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omori-aus-archive · 22 days

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Omori: Kindred Spirits (Bad End AU by pyroanime2k16)

A/N: My last multi-chapter Omori fic for a while. Pic is a comm from @zipsunz, who gave me permission to post and share it for this AU. Specifically using the watermarked version to prevent art theft.

Chapter I: Siblings, Together Again….

Mari didn’t have a choice but to wait now….

All her efforts to help Sunny forgive himself for her accidental demise were now in the balance. He was in a hospital bed now…due to a confrontation with Basil….

She was scared….

Scared that Sunny wouldn’t make it to see the next day. Scared what might happen after he told everyone the truth of what happened to her.

The dead girl couldn’t do anything else though…besides waiting. And so she went through the hospital, hoping that their mother would come by and visit.

Maybe…. Maybe their mom could help Sunny more than Mari was able to do…in her ghostly form.

….

She HATED having to wait. She hated having to leave this all up to chance.

But she didn’t have a choice now….

She did all she could.

She could only pray that things would work out for the best this time….

-----------------------------------

The dead girl felt like she was in a nightmare…. Or my own personal Hell, for that matter.

It started with her realizing that Sunny was missing from his hospital bed. Then it led to her discovering him heading up to the room.

And just as she tried in vain to grab the boy and prevent him from jumping off the roof…

….

Sunny was dead now….

Lifeless on the pavement and sidewalk below…with Kel and Aubrey screaming horrifically and in agony as they saw him….

Everything Mari tried to do…. Everything she attempted to help her little brother forgive himself….

….

All for nothing….

-----------------------------------

She didn’t go to the funeral….

She felt like she didn’t deserve to see her brother one last time….

And his mutilated body would only be a reminder to her greatest failure….

Instead, she’s at home…going through the building one last time. It’s unnaturally quiet…. It truly was haunted now….

The dead girl went to the staircase, before entering the piano room. This was where it all went wrong.

And Mari hated herself for not noticing Sunny’s struggles sooner….

….

All that enjoyment of playing the piano vanished…just as quickly as Sunny’s life did….

Seeing the instrument only reminded her of her failure. It only made her angrier with herself.

It wasn’t long before Mari did something impulsive…by setting the piano ablaze. And at this point, she didn’t care about the consequences.

Sunny was dead. Gone. There was nothing salvageable in this building…. The only thing she wanted to do and the one person she promised to protect were both gone….

As she left the room, she froze in place….

Not because of her recent actions, no.

Rather, she heard a faint sob from upstairs…. And she KNEW whose voice it was making the cries.

Immediately, she went up the staircase and right into her and Sunny’s room.

And in some twisted form of a miracle…there Sunny was, curled up in his bed and crying. He was just like her. A ghost haunting the Earth….

He looked up from his position briefly, before freezing and backing up into the corner of his mattress. She could only assume that he was scared of how she might react….

…And that broke her heart irreparably.

Slowly, the dead girl made her way over to her brother, sitting with him. She then whispered, “You shouldn’t be here, sunshine…!” She wanted to cry, even though her tears had long since ran out.

The boy lowered his head, croaking out, “I’m sorry….” It’s all he could say to her. All he wanted to say to her.

After everything that happened, all he wanted to do was apologize to his sister.

It didn’t take any convincing for Sunny to suddenly lurch forward and hug his sister tightly, crying into her shoulder.

“I got you, baby brother….” Mari whispered, holding Sunny tightly in return, rocking him gently as he cried against her.

“I’m here…. I’m right here, Sunny….” She reassured. “I’m so sorry, baby brother….”

She wanted to apologize…for everything.

For not noticing Sunny’s struggles.

For not noticing why he wanted to participate in the recital with her so badly.

For yelling at him for getting frustrated.

For not doing enough to help him forgive himself.

For not being able to protect him.

For failing him.

….

But to Mari, not a single word would be enough to apologize for any of that.

#omori #mari omori #omori mari #omori sunny #sunny omori #omori au #omori kel #omori hero #aubrey omori #omori basil #tw character death #tw hospital setting #sunny #mari #bad end au

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em-writes-stuff · 10 months

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isolation-chamber

day two of two weeks of whump @promptsforyourwhumpfic

characters: villain, caretaker, doctor

warnings: hospital setting, sick whumpee, cursing, medical neglect

428 words

a/n: idk man i dont really know what this is. i’m just kinda pissed off with the world right now i guess. doctors are the worst

---

Villain stares at the plastic barrier between them and Caretaker. Such a small thing keeping them apart, what would be the harm in breaking it, really? But he wouldn't risk Caretaker like that. Not after everything she’s done for him. No, he can manage a few more hours in the small room marked of plastic so thin it shakes with each of Villan’s breaths. He could break it so easily.

She smiles at him, not her normal smile. This one doesn’t reach her eyes. Before the doctor came last, she didn’t have to fake it as much. Bad news.

Now, the doctor stands in front of Caretaker, blocking both of their faces from Villain. But plastic isn’t soundproof. And Villain isn’t deaf.

“It’s not looking good. By now, we’d have some sort of improvement from the medications. You should say goodbyes. Just in case.” He shakes his head sadly and turns to leave the room.

“You’re a coward.” Villain rasps. “You’ve barely done any testing. You don’t know what this is or how to cure it. And now I’m going to die because you won’t do anything else. Because you’re scared.”

“Villain,” Caretaker almost snaps. “That’s not fair to them. They’ve done a lot for you.”

“What have they done? Taken my blood? Don’t think so. Checked my vitals? Didn’t happen. I came in with a fever, cough, rash, and upset stomach and they threw me in this-this isolation room! They didn’t give me an IV, or a fucking phone in case I needed anything. They don’t fucking care.”

The doctor takes a deep breath and frowns. “I’m sorry you feel that way. My team and I really have done everything we can without putting anyone else at risk. But with your line of work…can you really expect us to have a cure for this? I mean…just last week you got three different death threats. This can’t be a surprise.”

“Whatever.” Villain mutters. He pulls his knees to his chest and rests his chin on his hands. “If you’re going to let me die, at least do me the courtesy of leaving me the fuck alone. Don’t come back.”

The doctor nods and leaves the room, leaving Villain with Caretaker. She glares at him, her gaze bothering him more than the burning in his lungs.

“What?”

She shakes her head, “I just think you’re being a little unfair.”

He rolls onto his side and sighs loudly, screwing his eyes shut against the bright lights. “I don’t care if I hurt his feelings. He’s killing me.”

She doesn’t respond.

#whump #whump fic #two weeks of whump #twow #whumpee #villain #villain whump #villain whumpee #careatker #tw hospital #tw hospital setting #sick whumpee #em writes #em writes stuff #my writing

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youneedsomeprompts · 1 year

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~ HOSPITAL / ER ROOM AU ~ WRITING PROMPTS

requested by: anonymous

Feel free to use and reblog!

OTP meets accidentally at the hospital because they both accompanied someone else there

A has to stay in the hospital & doesn't want B to leave because they're scared

"It's gonna be alright. I'm sure the doctor will be here in a minute."

waking up in a hospital bed & not knowing how they got there

"Hey, look at me! Stay with me! No, no, don't close your eyes!"

B is panicking much more than A who got committed to the hospital

"It doesn't look too bad, right?"

B is trying to distract A when they need to get an IV because A hates needles

"Do you hear me?"

A, who actually works at the hospital, turns out to be a lousy patient

"Deep breathing."

B is getting mad waiting in the hallway and imagining countless scenarios of what might be wrong with A

"I told you, you need to take more care of yourself."

B wants to be there for A but they can't see blood

"Is it broken?"

B offers to bring A some stuff if they have to stay overnight

"Your partner can stay if you like." "Oh, they're not... actually, that would be nice."

B is stroking over A's brow

"You scared the shit out of me!"

"Do you need anything?"

A refuses to stay at the hospital because they're 'not sick'

"Everything's fine! Leave me alone!"

"Why won't you let anyone help you?"

getting dizzy from all the countless examinations and tests

having a medical/health-related secret

trying to be strong for everyone

"You're what?" "... pregnant..."

"It's just a checkup. You can go home." "You came here with the ambulance. This is no checkup. Now stop downplaying it!"

being excited to get a cast everyone can sign

"Stop fussing!"

B feels guilty because they have been arguing right before A got committed to the hospital

"Don't leave me!"

seeing how uncertain everything is in life, they realise they have to confess their feelings

"I won't spoil you just because you have been so careless to injure yourself."

B neglects their own needs as they stay by A's bedside continuously

B can't stop holding A's hand

"You're very brave."

B kisses A's bandaid

"Does it still hurt?"

"Don't worry! We'll make sure you'll get better very soon."

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callaeidae3 · 24 days

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A is for Anaesthesia - my art and letter page in the Whump ABCs (@thewhumpyprintingpress)

The art I drew for this was of my ocs Kyle Kindall after an incident, and Yuuki Takahashi trying to offer what soothing and comfort he can - in spite of the fact that neither of them like hospitals.

The Whumpy Printing Press has now published the Whump ABCs zine (from 2nd April 2024), if anyone happens to be interested in it!

#whump art #hurt comfort #whump abcs zine #ocs #kyle kindall #yuuki takahashi #kindall k series #hospital setting tw #hospitalisation

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cripplecharacters · 14 days

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I need some advice about how to include magic as an aid. All of my stories are set in a high fantasy type of world with (i think at least) solid worldbuilding where magic is relatively common, especially healing magic and everyday magic (????? like, not highly destructive explosions, more like convenience stuff).

I have a lot of disabled characters who I want to represent authentically & the best way I can, and I reallllllly don’t want to be that author that’s like, oh you have fibromyalgia? Poof healing magic it has no effect on you. Oh you’re an amputee? Poof magical forcefield prosthetic. Yknow

I guess, advice if you have any about how to be respectful about disabilities and magic coexisting

Thank you for your question! I would recommend treating magic like medicine, it can’t fix everything and is always working to be improved. Some issues can be cured with things like surgery or medication, or in your case magic, but sometimes those issues can only be managed and not cured. Sometimes medical help can even make issues worse or cause disability (whether or not the initial problem was solved). Big procedures such as surgeries often have lasting side effects no matter the outcome, and I would imagine so would big magical procedures.

You should also think about how the magic interacts with the world. Is it physically draining to preform? How much does it cost for professional help? Is it accessible to everyone or are there barriers (money, rank/class, education, etc)? Are certain conditions managed with potions that need to be taken over long periods of time, if not forever, and if so how do people get access to it? Is certain magic only practiced in certain places, such as big cities with certified universities/hospitals, and if so how difficult would it be for your character to get to them? What are the side effects of these cures, and how long do they last, if they go away at all?

Also much like every doctor isn’t a good doctor, every healing magician doesn’t care to actually help. There would still be people being misdiagnosed, not being believed, not getting sufficient care, not to mention snake oil salesmen who would sell fake cures for money.

Magic prosthetics also shouldn’t be a cure, they are not in the real world either. They have limited movement, and the more movement a prosthetic has the more expensive it is, the more difficult is is to learn to use, and it’s often heavier. Plus prosthetics can be uncomfortable and difficult to use so not every amputee chooses to wear one.

Just keep these in mind and don’t cure disabilities that are incurable today and you should be good!

Have a lovely day!

Mod Rot

#anonymous #mod rot #fantasy disabilities #fantasy setting #tw ableism #tw hospitals #writing resource #writing disabled characters #writing disability #magic aids

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wickedthroats · 1 year

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Methlyamine doesn’t spoil, does it?

↳ 4 Days Out, Breaking Bad

#breaking bad #brba #tvedit #breakingbadgif #walter white #jesse pinkman #jane margolis #skyler white #4 days out #mygifs*#bb**#comfort episode ily #hospital tw #i was not happy with how the first set turned out with the square gifs so. i redid it.#:')))

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only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are · 1 year

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Whump drabble - Sedative

Whumpee wakes up in a room full of beeping equipment and unfamiliar faces partially covered by masks. Terrified and confused, they begin to thrash around on the bed, desperately trying to rip out their IV. The faceless people begin yelling.

"Calm down!"

"Stop that, it's okay!"

They don't stop, and continue thrashing against the grip of the nurses trying to pin their arms to their side.

"Sedate them!"

A nurse approches holding a syringe.

"No!" Whumpee screams.

They bite the nearest nurse, who lets go of their grip on Whumpee, swearing.

"Hurry, do it now!"

And then, a new voice. "STOP!"

Caretaker pushes the nurses aside. "It's okay, you don't need that. I can calm them down."

The nurses, irritated, look at each other doubtfully.

"Just, let me at least try first." Caretaker says.

The syringe is put out of sight in a pocket of the nurses' scrubs - for now.

"Hey, Whumpee. It's me." Caretaker says softly as they approach.

Whumpee can hear the beeping of their heart rate, still just as fast.

"Remember me?" Caretaker asks. They sit on the edge of the bed, smiling softly. "I know it's scary. But you're okay, it's alright." They place a hand on Whumpee's shoulder.

And Whumpee screams. Their hands shoot out, shoving Caretaker backwards with enough force to send them tumbling to hospital machinery and equipment. Tools clatter to the floor.

Instantly, the nurses leap on Whumpee.

"NO! LET ME GO!!" They scream so hard their voice cracks.

"SEDATE THEM, NOW!" A nurse yells.

The syringe is coming closer and closer, but Whumpee isn't able to move out of the way. The nurses' grip is too tight, and they watch in terror as the syringe is driven straight into their thigh. They scream, one last, long and terrified animalistic scream as the contents are injected into the muscle. The syringe is pulled out, and the nurses, slowly and hesitantly let go of Whumpee. Whumpee pants and heaves, their vision blurring. They can just barely see Caretaker being helped to their feet by the nurses.

And then their eyes roll back in their head, and their head lolls to the side as the sedative pulls them into unconsciousness.

#whump community #whumpblr #noncon drugging #medical whump #needles tw #sedated whumpee #sedation whump #forced sedation #noncon sedation #whump fics #whump drabble #defiant whumpee #caretaker and whumpee #hospital setting

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shion-yu · 1 month

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A Safe Place (part 4/4) [day 24]

Cliff’s past experiences in hospitals have all been bad. For @monthofsick day 24: Panic and @badthingshappenbingo Paralyzed by Fear. 3,698 words, original work, TWs emeto (mild x1), hospital/surgical content, child abuse/trauma. If you'd like to skip the first half which is a childhood flashback, control-find the word “eighteen”.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 - This is the final part! Thanks for sticking with me guys.

Cliff’s fear of hospitals first began when he was three years old. He’d been inside the hospital several times because his dad worked there, but he hadn’t really processed it as anything significant until one day when he went there with his mother, who’d been tasked with watching him because the nanny was off. Cliff had been doing everything “wrong” that day, and Hana Barrows had reached her limit after a spilled glass of orange juice. She dragged him by the wrist to the car and drove to the hospital, swearing loudly all the way there. Cliff was silent because even back then he knew that saying anything would just make things worse.

Hana brought Cliff up to Dr. Claude Barrows’ office without warning, ignoring the secretary shouting after her as she passed without signing in. She yanked Claude’s door open without knocking and found him hunched over a pile of paperwork.

“What in the - Hana! What on earth are you doing here?! Why is Cliff here?”

“I’m not a babysitter!” She shouted as she shoved Cliff towards his father, who would have fallen on his face had Claude not caught him. “You promised me I’d never have to babysit!”

“Keep your voice down,” Claude hissed. He sat Cliff on the chair he’d been sitting on and turned to his irate wife. “It’s one day in his entire life Hana, one goddamn day.”

Hana let out an angry groan of frustration and slapped her hands on Claude’s chest, grabbing the lapels of his lab coat and pulling him forward. “I never wanted this! I’m not doing it!”

They squabbled for another few minutes, young Cliff staring at his velcro-up shoes and distracting himself trying to remember how the last nanny had taught him how to tie laces. He’d forgotten how after his mom fired her, because Cliff had been too attached to her.

“You can’t leave him here Hana, I’m working,” Claude said finally, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Well figure it out, because I’m not taking him home with me,” Hana snapped back. With that she stalked out of the office, not stopping despite Claude shouting after her. He followed her out, and Cliff was left alone in his dad’s office, on his big spinny office chair, with no idea what he was supposed to do now. He was old enough to know that his parents didn’t like him, although he didn’t understand why. He didn’t talk much but they still said he was too noisy. His big sister Moira was nice to him, but that was when she was around. Usually she was too busy with her high school friends and sports to be home much.

Cliff tried to climb down from the chair, but it was really tall and he was afraid of falling. Still, he eased his lower half down, stretching his short legs to try and feel for the floor. He felt it all at once when he fell, smacking his forehead on the hard floor. He bit his lip, trying not to cry. His parents hated when he cried. Still, he couldn’t help it as a few little tears rolled down his chubby cheeks.

“Did you fall, honey?”

Cliff looked up to find a young woman kneeling in front of him. He nodded, wiping his face with tiny fists. “Aw, poor thing,” she said.

“He’s my son. Do you like kids?” Dr. Barrows was back, standing in the doorway - without Cliff’s mom.

“Yeah, totally,” the girl said. “Sorry Dr. Barrows, it’s just I heard a kid crying and the door was open so-”

“It’s fine,” Cliff’s father responded. “Actually, I need you to watch him for the rest of the day.”

“M-me? But, um, I’m a medical student, I don’t think...”

“Part of being a doctor is doing what your attending orders, and I’m telling you to babysit my kid until my shift ends at seven,” Dr. Barrows said sharply. “Is that a problem?”

“No - I mean, sort of, my clinical ends at four, and-”

“Great. I don’t care what you do with him, just keep him out of the way. I’ll pay you for your time.” Dr. Barrows ignored any further protest from the student and shoved two hundred-dollar bills in her hand before leaving.

The student shook her head in disbelief. “Alright, Cliff is it?” She asked. Cliff nodded, clutching the hem of his shirt nervously. “Right. Well, Cliff, I guess it’s you and me until seven...”

The student was nice, all things considered, but she clearly had no interest in babysitting. She had long legs and walked so quickly that Cliff had to run to keep up. A lot of times she’d turn a corner before he did and he thought he’d lost her, but she always found him again. They ate lunch in the cafeteria and she let him draw with a pen and a piece of printer paper while she did work. Cliff honestly didn’t understand what was going on, but he went with it because he was taught not to complain and didn't want to be left behind.

It was around 5pm when the student said, “You’d rather be with your dad, right? He has a pretty cool facial reconstruction starting now. Let’s go watch.” She led Cliff to the gallery, a large room with chairs above the surgical theater with a glass window for an audience. Cliff’s dad was scrubbed in, hyper focused and didn’t notice the spectators. “The surgery will last a few hours,” the student told Cliff. “I’m going home, so just stay here and don’t move until your dad comes and gets you.”

Cliff looked at her, confused. She was going to leave him here by himself? “It’s fine,” she said. “Your dad’s right down there. Just stay where you are and whatever you do, don’t move from this room, got it?” Cliff had no other choice but to nod obediently. Then he was alone.

At first, Cliff was excited to see what his dad did for work. A large woman was lying on the table - sleeping, Cliff thought - and everybody was dressed in funny clothes. His dad was wearing a long mint gown, goggles and a puffy scrub cap, which made him laugh. That laughter died in his throat when he saw his father take a long, silver knife and cut into the sleeping woman’s face.

Cliff screamed, but nobody was there to hear him. He started to panic and it felt like there was no air in the room. There was blood and the sound of a drill. Cliff began to cry, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horrible scene. His father seemed to be tearing this lady’s face apart, and he did so for two hours before pulling the skin back up and sewing it all back together.

“Wonderful,” his father said in a confident tone. “Good work gentlemen.” Someone was helping him take off his bloody robes. At this moment, he finally looked up at what should have been an empty gallery, but instead he saw his traumatized three year old son. “What the hell? Is that my son?” Cliff heard him say loudly. Cliff was terrified. What if his father got mad and did the same thing to him? He hid under a chair in the corner of the gallery until his father flew into the room and dragged him out.

“I’m sorry, I stayed like she told me to, I’m sorry,” Cliff sobbed. He was so scared, pushing his father’s face away. He kept thinking of how bloody his dad’s hands had been. “Don’t hit me!”

“Cliff, shut up, you’re embarrassing me,” Claude said angrily. “It’s not your fault though, that stupid medical student - her career is over,” he growled. “Come on. Let’s go home.” He picked Cliff up and carried his crying child out of the hospital, and together they went home. They never talked about what Cliff had seen, but for years he had nightmares about it. He was scared of what his father was capable of, and every time Claude yelled at him or hit him, Cliff wondered if it would go further - if he’d end up on that table being cut up next if he didn’t behave.

By the time Cliff reached middle school, he understood that his father’s job was to be a surgeon and that he actually helped people, even if it was scary - and horrible - to see in person. But when he had his stomach ulcer and had to be hospitalized for a few days, his fear of hospitals was renewed and solidified. His parents were furious at him. Even with a fever and in so much pain, his father yelled at him every step of the way. Every time Cliff cried, or threw up, or panicked because he was afraid of needles, it was made ten times worse by his parents’ obsession with Cliff not spoiling their image of what a perfect son should be like. The pressure they put on him while he was in the hospital just made him sicker. It was a terrible experience, and Cliff vowed never to let himself get sick enough to end up in a hospital again.

Unfortunately, these sorts of decisions are not truly one’s own. Now Cliff was in the hospital with pneumonia, and although he was eighteen and told himself he was an adult who knew better, he was still scared. It was a different hospital, but everything smelled the same. The nurses acted the same - nice, but brisk. He felt the same helpless feeling of being surrounded by people who didn’t understand him, and most of all he was terrified of his father finding out he was here. He was sure he’d be furious if he discovered Cliff had ended up here after disrespecting his mother by leaving home. He thought about ripping the IV tubing out of his arm and making a run for it, but he didn’t think his legs would hold him.

When Elliot was next to him, Cliff felt like he could keep it together. After all, he’d never had someone like Elliot to hold on to during these scary moments before. But now Elliot had gone home for the night and Cliff was alone in a tiny room without windows in the hospital, and he was losing it.

Cliff didn’t realize he was having a panic attack until the nurse came in because his heart monitor was going off. She tried to settle him down, speaking to him in hushed tones and reassuring him that he was safe, but he didn’t believe her. All he could think about was his prior bad experiences in hospitals. His entire chest felt tight and he was crying, which made it difficult to breathe in conjunction with his already junky lungs.

“Cliff, you need to slow down your breathing for me,” the nurse said, but Cliff couldn’t. He couldn’t control it. He was just as scared as the day he’d hid under the chair above the operating room from his father, abandoned and afraid to trust anybody.

The thing that did stop him panicking was the uncontrollable coughing fit that came on. All the tears and snot that came with crying choked him, and then he couldn’t stop. He coughed until he vomited onto his lap, tears and mucus mixing into a horrible puddle that he could feel seeping through the sheets onto his legs. He was so disgusting, he couldn’t stand himself. Elliot was right to leave him here alone.

The nurse called the other nurse for backup, and soon they were changing Cliff’s sheets together, changing his nasal cannula to a simple face mask while he was so snotty from crying, and one of them administered something through his IV that made him feel sleepy. Cliff’s nurse asked him if it would make him feel better to call his boyfriend.

“What time is it?” Cliff asked, his voice hoarse from crying and throwing up.

“Eleven,” she told him.

Cliff shook his head no. He had already woken Elliot up enough times this week. “It’s okay. He’s probably asleep.” They hadn't agreed on a time that Elliot was going to come back, Cliff realized. Elliot had said he’d be back in the morning. The morning could be eight, or it could be as late as noon. That was, if Elliot came back at all. No, he'd come back. Elliot kept his word - usually. Then again, Cliff had never expected Elliot to trick him into coming to the hospital. He understood he was really sick and needed help, he did, but the betrayal still stung.

After his nurse did another albuterol treatment through the mask, she changed Cliff back to a new (not snot-clogged) nasal cannula and left him to get some sleep. Cliff couldn’t rest though. Even with the lights off, all the machines cast a glow that kept the room too bright. The faint beeping of his heart monitor and the drip of his IV fluids reminded him too much of the last time he was in the hospital, and he felt vaguely nauseous despite being sure there was nothing left in his stomach. He curled in a tight ball and held his knees to his chest, trembling. He missed Elliot and wished he was here to make him feel safer right now. Instead, all he had was himself and a very long night ahead of him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cliff woke up drenched in sweat. He didn’t know where he was and immediately began to panic, but then he felt someone pushing him back down and shushing him.

“Elliot?” Cliff blinked in confusion. He’d finally cried himself to sleep in the wee hours of the morning but he hadn’t expected to sleep long enough that it was already within business hours. “What time is it?” His voice crackled, laden with wetness, and he let out a congested, barking cough. It made his sides ache and he gripped them automatically.

Elliot smiled at him and ran a delicate hand through Cliff’s damp hair. “Hi baby,” he said fondly. “It’s about nine AM.”

“Really?” Cliff glanced around, slowly remembering the details of yesterday. “I’m so hot,” he muttered.

“I think your fever broke,” Elliot said gently. “How do you feel?”

Cliff considered things. He felt significantly less achy than last night and it was easier to breathe. He didn’t feel like his brain was entirely full of sand - maybe just halfway. “Better,” he said. “Can I go home?”

“That’s up to the doctor,” Elliot said. “I ordered you some breakfast though. Do you feel up to eating? I got you oatmeal and toast.”

Cliff grimaced, remembering all the vomiting he’d done yesterday. “I’m not sure.”

“You can see how you feel when it gets here,” Elliot said. “The nurse said your breathing got a lot better after your second steroid injection.”

Only now did Cliff notice the lack of oxygen tubing on his face. He’d fallen asleep with it on and Cliff was shocked he’d really been so passed out that the nurse had been able to give him IV meds, do vitals, and remove his oxygen without waking him up. He must have been truly exhausted.

“Thanks for coming back,” Cliff said suddenly, looking at his hands instead of Elliot’s face.

“Of course I came back,” Elliot responded. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

Promises didn’t always work out, Cliff thought to himself, but he just nodded yes. “Well, I missed you,” was all he responded. “So thanks.”

He was surprised by the quick kiss that Elliot stole from him, even though he hadn’t brushed his teeth since yesterday morning. “E-Elliot,” he stuttered, red faced as he sat back and covered his mouth with his hands in embarrassment.

“I missed you too,” Elliot said. His smile was so kind and genuine. It made Cliff feel so much better. “You did incredible staying here overnight by yourself.”

Cliff understood that Elliot was babying him a little, but he also realized that he was unable to stop himself from smiling into his hands. Something inside him felt so content when Elliot was proud of him. He wanted to feel like that over and over.

Breakfast arrived and Cliff picked at the food, trying to get down a few bites mostly because Elliot was staring at him so hopefully. He really wasn’t hungry, but he managed half of a piece of toast and two bites of oatmeal before he couldn’t manage any more. It was difficult to eat when his cough was still so harsh, overtaking him at random moments and leaving him doubled over in bed, his arms clutching his sides in pain. At least he managed to keep the food down, though.

The doctor came by shortly after Cliff finished eating and examined him. He listened to Cliff’s lungs and cough, nodding along with his own conclusions. “I believe it’s safe to send you home, but you have to promise to rest and do nothing else for several more days,” he said finally. “How does that sound to you?”

Cliff nodded in agreement. He’d gladly stay in Elliot’s bed for another week if it meant getting rid of this awful cough - preferably, far away from any hospitals. Elliot awkwardly raised his hand a little before speaking. “Excuse me Doctor, but we start classes back at school in the city on Monday. Will he be okay by then?”

“Hmm. You’ll have to play that by ear, but as long as he gets proper rest and takes his meds, no fevers, then probably. Do you have to walk far to get to class?”

Cliff shrugged. Sometimes, not always. Elliot answered for him though. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t walk too much,” his boyfriend said confidently.

“In that case, I’m not concerned about discharging him,” the doctor said. “I’ll put in the orders and we’ll have you out of here in a few hours. I do recommend you keep using a nebulizer at home for a few days and as needed, do you have one?”

Cliff shook his head no at the same time Elliot said, “We’ll get one for him, we just need the medicine.”

“You’ve got someone taking good care of you, I see,” the doctor chuckled. “I’ll write scripts for that too then. Make sure you follow up with an asthma doctor as soon as you can.”

Elliot thanked the doctor several times, Cliff echoing the sentiment with a simple thank you, and then all they had to do was wait for paperwork. In the meantime the nurse helped Cliff get back into normal clothes, took out his IV and detached him from all the equipment. He had sticky residue on his finger and chest from the oxygen and heart monitoring leeds that didn’t seem to want to come off, but it didn’t matter. He’d have plenty of time to scrub it off later. Cliff was just relieved to be escaping this place without a longer stay or his father finding out and showing up.

At discharge, Elliot bundled Cliff up in a warm jacket and hat even though it was late August. He pushed Cliff in a wheelchair down to the lobby, then ran to get the car. Cliff insisted he could walk, but he wasn’t entirely convinced of his own strength right now so didn’t push the matter much. He waited patiently for Elliot and waited to feel relieved for when they had officially left the premises of the hospital. It had only been one night, but it felt like a long time. The fresh air felt good on his skin and he took a deep breath, appreciating it even as it made him cough.

Elliot pulled up at patient pickup and helped Cliff into the car, settling him in the passenger’s seat. “My mom’s gonna pick up all your meds and find a nebulizer for you at home,” he explained as he drove. “We’re going to follow all the directions to a tee, get you straightened up before we head back to school this weekend.” He sounded confident about this plan, as if it were foolproof. “Do you want to shower when we get home, or go straight to bed?”

“Shower,” Cliff said. He didn’t want to smell like a hospital anymore. “Sorry about all this.”

Elliot shook his head. “It’s okay. I mean... I was really scared. But you’re going to be fine, so...”

“That’s what I mean,” Cliff said, looking at Elliot seriously. “I’m sorry for scaring you. And being a burden and crying and... I guess what I’m really trying to say is thank you for being there.”

Suddenly there were tears running down Elliot’s cheeks and Cliff panicked. “Wait, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

Elliot pulled over on the curb and wiped his eyes. He sniffled and gave a tiny laugh at the same time, which sounded funny to Cliff. “I’m just really glad you’re okay,” Elliot said, taking Cliff’s hand in his own and squeezing it. “And you’re welcome. But you’re not a burden and it’s okay. I love all of you, Cliff. When you’re sick or scared and lonely... I want to be there for you. Do you understand that?”

Cliff didn’t answer right away, not trusting his own voice not to waver right now. But finally he said, “I’m trying to.” It was more honest than the automatic ‘Yes’ he had very nearly said.

Elliot smiled a little sadly and leaned over to give Cliff a kiss on the cheek. “Okay, as long as you’re trying to,” he said. He looked both fond and sad. “Now let’s get you home and in bed. We’ve got a big school year waiting for us next week and you’re not getting out of that bed until Friday.”

“The nurse said a little exercise is good,” Cliff pointed out.

“Some very light exercise,” Elliot said. “Bed to couch and back is plenty. Got it?”

Cliff smiled. He found it amusing when Elliot got bossy. “Sure,” he said. “You’re in charge, El.”

Elliot grinned and started driving again. “You’re damn right I am.”

Fin.

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erstwhles · 3 months

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open to anyone (w / m / nb), mutuals and nonmutuals

premise: professional athlete injured during a game and suffering from brief, short-term memory loss after waking up in the hospital (so i was thinking friends who have feelings for each other and he accidentally lets it slip because he's out of it, but i'm open! so, friends? teammates? feelings for each other? partner? whatever it is he's being a lot)

"Oh no," Joel grumbles as he pulls his arm over his eyes to block out the fluorescent lights. "That's... embarrassing. They had to carry me off the ice?" Shaking his head, he lets his shoulders sink into the pillow while he considers the scenario. This isn't the first time they have explained how the injury occurred, but the doctors weren't kidding when they said it may take a couple hours for his mind to find its bearings. "What about you? You were there...? That's so much worse. I'm so sorry..."

#open rp #indie rp #almost posted valentine's starters instead.#but really anything can be a valentine's day starter if you set it around the middle of february #injury tw #hospital tw #joel tbt.#i realize that posting an open at 9 pm on a tuesday is a choice. but yknow

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i-eat-worlds · 7 months

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New Whump Aesthetic: Old Operating Rooms

I’m in love with these. Big windows, bright white gowns, it’s perfect. I need to set something here.

#worlds babbles #medical #whump #hospital setting #surgery #surgery tw #whump aesthetic

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omori-aus-archive · 8 months

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Omori: Recovery Route (A Coma-Mari AU by pyroanime2k16)

A/N: Sorry. No special cover this time. Also, this will primarily focus on Mari and Sunny's interactions, as that's what I write best.

-------------------------------------

Chapter 1: Case Of Awareness

Mari would've had to be a fool in order to NOT notice what her brother was going through.

Even now, as they were practicing for the recital one more time, the girl could tell how stressed Sunny seemed.

She could tell that he was growing tired and frustrated with the constant practice of the recital. Her perfectionism and their father's expectations certainly weren't helping and she knew it....

The older of the two siblings wanted to apologize in some way. A way that could actually be felt.

Mari was also worried about straining or ruining her sibling relationship with Sunny.

Eventually, the practice ended and Sunny quietly left the room. Mari felt a sickening feeling in her abdomen.

....

And then there was the sound of something shattering on the floor, cuing Mari to immediately stand up and rush to the foyer, spotting a broken violin at the bottom of the stairs.

The teenage girl paled. She screwed up. She was certain that she had fucked up now....

Especially when she turned to face Sunny, who was struggling to calm down. He was heaving, his arms shaking as he tried...and failed to take in deep breaths.

Mari went up the stairs. She had to fix this. She let this happen for too long. She had to do something to make up for it.

"Sunny...?" The teenager called out, cuing the boy to instinctively turn away. "Sunny, please look at me."

The boy didn't say anything for a few moments, before mumbling, “Please leave me alone….” His sister shook her head, “Brother, please talk to me…!”

“Mari, please stop….” The boy mumbled at a volume that was to quiet to hear. He was struggling to keep himself calm.

He wanted to run. He wanted to leave.

"Please just...talk to me, Sunny...!" The teenager pleaded. "Please let me try to help...!"

The boy shook his head, trying to block the words out. He needed to leave. To be alone to calm down.

Eventually, after a few more moments of back and forth, Sunny just...couldn't take it anymore and chose to push Mari away to give him some distance....

...Except both parties forgot that they were on top of the stairs. Upon being pushed, Mari's bad knee ultimately buckled painfully, causing her to fall towards the stairs....

Almost on pure instinct and in a state of shock, Sunny lurched forward and grabbed Mari's hand with his left, holding the railing with his right.

Almost immediately, the boy's weak grip began slipping, cuing him to tighten his hold as much as he could. The two siblings looked at each other, still in shock by what just happened.

The older of the two siblings, much to Sunny's surprise, just gave a weak and sad smile as the boy's grip ultimately failed.

The boy could only watch in horror as his sister collapsed on the stairs and tumbled to the floor.

The boy stood in fright and silence, before eventually working up the courage to walk down towards Mari. Of course, he understandably assumed that she was dead....

That he accidentally killed his own sister....

Then he heard the very faint sound of breathing. After kneeling down and putting his ear near his sister's face, he was able confirm it.

The breathing was obviously strained...as a result of severe pain and a near-fatal incident....

But Mari was miraculously alive. Unconscious, but alive....

Though, before he could react to that, Sunny realized that there was another person in the house...right in the front doorway as he glanced up.

"Basil...?" The boy whispered, noticing the equally shocked and frightened blonde.

Basil then asked in a shaky voice, "I-Is she...?" "She's...alive.... Needs help. NOW...." Sunny responded as attempted to control his breathing.

"Get Kel and Hero's mom or dad...." The boy pleaded, which resulted in the blonde rushing next door in a panic....

...Leaving Sunny alone to hold Mari in his arms and whisper apology after apology....

#omori #mari omori #omori au #omori mari #omori sunny #sunny omori #recovery route au #omori omori #omori basil #omori kel #omori hero #omori aubrey #tw coma #tw hospital setting

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distinctlywhumpthing · 8 months

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Unintentional 28

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CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization. Ongoing raid, fear of recapture, clinical/hospital setting, side-effects/consequences of medwhump (cerebrovascular). Beta-read by @alittlewhump <3 Second ask is from this list

Leo told him to stay still and pretend to sleep, no matter what. One of so few direct orders, Aiden could count them on his hand. The very same Leo had just been holding, fingers warming his, giving him one last reassuring squeeze before he’d let go.

He couldn’t fail Leo.

Aiden pressed his hands into the bedspread to hide their shaking, to make them still. Starched-not-soft fabric in an orderly, woven grid under his fingertips. Hundreds of washes keeping it uniform for every new patient. Knuckles wrapped in the soft fabric of Leo’s sweatshirt. Left hand throbbing, forearms aching. Betadine and antiseptic sharp in his nose. The sounds in the hallway—the agents in the hallway. He knew those boots, those footfalls. He’d been here before.

He was there.

Beside the pool, clothes still damp from diving in, from sweating through what had to be hours of CPR. Dragged to his knees, slapped around, put in a van. The End.

He wouldn’t be able to give them his number this time, even if he wanted to. Except instead of taking a stand, he was simply too damaged. The idea of being beaten in front of Leo made his stomach twist and his throat tighten.

He couldn’t shake his head, squeeze his fist, find something, anything, to anchor him to where he was, who he was. The simplest task impossible. He used to be more than a passenger, an observer, recognizing less and less with each visit. Especially when it was like this, when he fell beneath the surface, into things that were muddy and murky and meant to stay that way.

He wanted to look, to confirm what he kept telling himself was true, but he had to keep his eyes closed.

Leo wouldn’t leave him. Leo had promised.

But the very foundation of the conditioning was doubt.

With Archer it pushed him toward an impossible perfection. Empty responsiveness that only left him aching to do more, to be better.

It nagged him constantly with Harrison but there was little to be done. Harrison took what he wanted, didn’t care what kind of vessel it came from. All of his memories returned were not enough to erase the conditioning, relieve the doubt. The ache to be deserving.

He was certain it was worse to have both: what once was housed in the ruins of what he was now.

Leo had no idea what he was taking on. Had no idea Aiden was falling to pieces in his own head when all he had to do was stay still and be quiet.

He wasn’t meant to open his eyes but Harrison was peeling them open for him. Shining his penlight into one and then the other.

“I know you’re awake.” His tone was terse. Frustrated? There was a complication? A delay? It was hard to follow, his mind slow to process. He tried to turn his head but he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t, he was strapped down like always.

Leo had told him not to move.

Harrison snapped his fingers in front of his face. “I asked you a fucking question.”

He blinked a fraction of a second after he thought of it. He couldn’t remember hearing a question. There weren’t any quips surfacing and he wasn’t sure he had the energy to speak anyway.

He hadn’t felt this drugged before.

He wasn’t.

Leo—was Leo still there?

“For fuck’s sake.” Harrison demanded all of his attention by undoing the straps. “You’re lucky we need to do this or you’d be kissing a taste of freedom goodbye thanks to your attitude.”

Too slow to snipe back again.

He cried out when his arms fell to his sides, so heavy now that he had to hold them, fingers tingling as the blood rushed down to his fingers.

He had to stay still.

“I don't have patience for your bullshit today. Do not test me.”

He swallowed the next whimper, the reprimand curdling in his empty stomach. Unaware that Harrison had released all of the other restraints until he folded forward. Harrison caught him unceremoniously, wrapping his arms around him in a parody of an embrace that still made his heart race and his cheeks flush as if it were earned attention, a reward. Sometimes, he’d wriggle closer, moan in Harrison’s ear or whisper a few lurid suggestions. (Anything was better than being a lab rat.) Once even licked his neck but after that, Harrison had kept him unconscious for so long.

As much as he had nothing to lose, would push every button he could find in a fruitless attempt to force Harrison’s hand, his nerve was riddled with holes. Whenever Harrison was gone too long, he’d wonder if he’d ever come back. Doubt warping fearful anticipation into longing. He’d miss Harrison. Miss the attention, even of his scalpel, when there was a question of it never returning. He was nothing if not what they’d conditioned him to be.

“Alright, up you go.” Harrison’s voice still had an edge. They were in the other room across the hall but he didn’t remember getting there. Harrison pulled him to his feet, placed both of his hands on the rail bordering the room. “Let’s go, I don’t have all day.”

He gasped when Harrison let go, overwhelmed by all of his muscles working together for a purpose. But there was something else too, something beneath whatever drugs Harrison always gave him before these bouts of “exercise” to make sure he wasn’t too much trouble.

“I don’t feel right…” It came out slurred.

Harrison was busy on his phone and waved him on with his free hand. “You remember. One foot in front of the other.” He used the hard toe of his sneaker to prod against his bare heel until he moved.

Left foot forward. One step at a time.

His head hurt, ears ringing, vision wavering. Harrison would be furious if he passed out.

Right foot forward. His leg almost buckled and he gripped the bar tighter. The room spun.

“Something’s wrong.” The syllables were marbles in his mouth.

Left foot forward.

The fingers of his right hand slipped from the bar.

He couldn’t raise them again, like his whole arm had been numbed. His heart sprinted and stuttered, drilling fear deep into his chest. “Harrison, what did you give me?” The panic in his voice was clearer than the words.

“Whatever game you’re playing, I am really not—”

Right foot forward. The room tipped.

Harrison caught him and let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m fucking serious. Stand up and finish the lap.” He tried to shove him onto his feet again but he couldn’t balance.

He was crying now, tears sliding down his cheek. The ones on the other side lost in the fabric of Harrison’s lab coat. “I—I—can’t—I can’t—” No words came out at all this time, only sounds. “Harrison!” His vision spotted. Harrison lowered him to the floor, let him slump against the wall, listing sideways.

His expression was out of focus but his voice was stern. “This is your last chance. Stop—what—what are you doing?”

Harrison caught him again but he couldn’t feel where, only the other hand opening his left eye for the light. He didn’t feel his fingers on the right before his vision flared.

“Fuck.” Harrison held two fingers to his neck, checking his watch. “Look at me, talk to me.”

“I—I—I’m scared,” he cried. It was nothing, it was moans and slurs. “Harrison, help me, please!”

“No, no, no.” Harrison laid him down. “Squeeze my hand.”

His hand was empty, he couldn’t—

Harrison raised their hands into his line of sight. His right hand limp in Harrison’s grip. “Please, come on, Nothing. It’s nothing, you’re fine. You’re fine.”

He couldn’t feel his hand. “What did you do to me?” Again nothing came out. He whimpered when Harrison rolled him onto his side.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He must have been high out of his mind to hear those words.

“Talk to me, stay with me.”

How many times he’d wanted to say that himself but now he was the one leaving.

“Beau, come on. Hold my hand.” Harrison wrapped both hands around his left one. He didn’t think he’d ever done that without gloves on. It felt so warm. “Here, see? Stay with me, Beau.”

But Beau didn’t belong here.

He had died when she had, when he’d failed her.

“No, no, no.” Harrison was holding his face now. “Hey, ‘359. Come on, keep your eyes open. Trainee ‘359. That is a direct—” His voice broke. “Fuck. Please—”

‘359 was out of place too.

Fragments and pieces, hollow on the inside, incomplete before he’d been given Beau’s purpose.

A clean slate would always be empty, ‘359 couldn’t exist here.

“Please.” Harrison held him more carefully than he’d ever imagined him capable of. Like he was far from nothing, precious even. “Brandon. Forgive me.”

But he wasn’t Brandon.

Or ‘359.

Or Beau.

He only wanted to be Aiden.

And even though he could still feel Harrison’s fingers entwined with his, he was Aiden. Aiden being careful not to make a sound as memories drowned him. Aiden not moving a muscle or opening his eyes, pulse sprinting in his chest as they waited. He couldn’t feel anything under his fingertips anymore, was growing more and more desperate to check that he was in fact lying in a bed and not waking up on the ground beside Harrison or worse already back on his table. He—

The door opening brought everything in his head screeching to a halt.

It wasn’t Harrison’s warmth still lingering on his hand.

It was Leo’s.

Leo who had found him, sheltered him, been so patient and kind with him. Had risked everything by bringing him here.

He could keep still and quiet, bury his fear of what it would mean to go back, in hopes of selling this lie. To say nothing of what consequences Leo and his sister might face. He could never be the reason someone else was unmade. He owed Leo this, at the very least, as disappointing as he may have been in the rest of their short time together.

Or did he have a different kind of obligation now? Not just to please and obey but one of higher grounds. To earn everything Leo had given him so freely. To repay selflessness with a sacrifice of his own.

One of the agents cleared their throat and Aiden knew this was it. If he went easily, quietly, they might leave Leo alone. As long as he surrendered before Leo had a chance to try and improvise.

And he wouldn’t look at Leo at all. To make sure to implicate him as little as possible.

There were voices in the hallway but he couldn’t catch the words over the way his heart beat so loudly in fear, thudding through his whole body.

He promised himself he would tear the stitches in the van later.

Being manhandled into cuffs might start the job anyway.

He would—Aiden would do this to save Leo.

He sat up and opened his eyes—

In time to see the backs of the agents as the nurse ushered them out, hissing something about “immunocompromised” and “goddamn idiots, don’t they teach you to read?”

And Leo, staring at him in disbelief.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @mazeish @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess @meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings @peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump @aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @lavbug

#bbu #bbu-adjacent #box boy whump #box boy rescue #bbu whump #sympathetic whumper #carewhumper #pet whump #is it? idk #institutionalized slavery tw #hospital setting tw #CVA tw #stitches mention tw #medical whump #clinical whump #hospital whump #whump #whump writing

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moons-cozy-corner · 2 years

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Rescued Pt.2

TW: Restraints, past torture, conditioning, kidnapping, non-con

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

"If anyone were to ever try to steal you from me, what would you do?"

"Keep my eyes closed and my mouth shut until I am in your possession again, Sir." The answer was simple, and he answered with absolute confidence and pride. He'd repeated it countless times on command, making his master proud.

The questions had filled his week up almost completely. He'd have to answer correctly before he could eat, before he could sleep. Any time Pet saw his master he'd be tested, gaining the chance to prove his worth to them, earning verbal praise that was usually so rare.

"Good. Good..." Master muttered, pacing the floor in front of kneeling Pet, who sat so nicely on the floor with his hands crossed on his lap. His Master looked worried, but he dared not speak a word of it, lest he be punished. Master crouched in front of him, lifting his face into their hands. "You've been so good, Pet. I'm very proud of how far you've come."

"Thank you, Master," he replied, bowing his head.

His master hummed delightfully, running their thumb across Pet's cheek. He was not used to such affection from his master, but still he sat, silent and obedient. "You've done so well...

"You've done so well, Villain." Fingers combed through his sticky hair, pulling on knots and other clumps dried together from sweat. He rolled over with a moan. Whoever this person was was not Master. If he could move any further away, he would have, but the other quickly grabbed his shoulders and led him back to the center of the bed. "Careful, love. You'll fall off the bed." The voice was annoyingly soothing, and Pet hated how relaxed it made him feel.

Trying to push the other away, he realized his hands couldn’t move all that far, and he immediately recognized the cold metal. They had cuffed him.

"Woah!" The man beside him yelled, shifting where he sat at the edge of the stiff hospital mattress as Pet yanked harshly at the handcuffs. Only one harsh off tug at the metal, just enough to show how pissed he was, then he lay still again. Immediately, he regret his decision. Master would not have approved that action.

Still, his eyes stayed shut, and he kept his breathing as calm as he could muster under the circumstances. Master had taught him well how to look and act differently than he was feeling. They'd taught him well, but it was clear he still had much to learn. That's why he needed to get back to his master so badly.

Somebody else walked into the room them, and Pet could feel their eyes on his still form. "Another outburst, Hero?" Hero. That was his name, the one that had created all that noise. He was the one behind all this, wasn't he? The abduction, the cuffs, the hospital. It was all him.

Pet had to force himself to swallow the bile rising in his throat. He hadn't been so angry in a long while, it almost felt... invigorating?

"No, ma'am. Not an outburst. He's just spooked, is all." The room fell almost silent, but Pet wouldn't know true silence again until Master found him and took him home. There was too much buzzing here. Hero stood and walked over to the woman, dropping his voice to a whisper, probably so that Pet wouldn't hear, but he so easily did. "Are the cuffs really necessary, Superhero? He's been through some serious trauma, restraining him like this can't be helping."

The older woman sighed, not bothering to soften her voice or her spitting tone as she sauntered over to the bedside. She smelled like antiseptic and some other scent that was probably meant to be flowers. It gave him a headache within seconds, making him squirm away, turning his head away to find fresh air.

She scoffed. "Trauma? What do you care about his trauma? He's a villain, Hero. He doesn't deserve mercy or pity or whatever this is that you're trying to feel for him." This Superhero person grabbed his hair, turning his face back towards her, and with the other hand she tried to pull open his eyes. "Open your eyes and face me, vermin."

Before she managed to, Hero was on her, and there was some sort of struggle. Superhero was screaming at Hero to get off, and it seemed as if he did, because she finally shut up, her heels clicking as she left the room in a huff.

He dared open his eyes for a second. Just a second, seeing the woman disappear behind a corner, Hero running a hand over his red, puffy face. He dropped his hand, resting it in his sweatshirt pocket before his eyes turned back to Pet's weak figure.

The figure that had stupidly decided to open his eyes, resulting in locking gazes with an exhausted Hero, who's eyes sparked with something so easily recognizable. It made Pet's heart jump, made him shut his eyes before his brain could process anything else.

"Villain?" He closed his eyes as soon as Hero had seen him, turning his head again. "Villain, please. Say something. Do something. Anything. Anything."

Pet stayed silent, clenching their jaw as tears threatened to fall out of their clenched eyelids. He didn't dare make another mistake like that again.

Hero sighed, sitting down in the chair beside the bed. Pet could hear it creak with their weight. "Y'know, I spend every day searching for you since you disappeared. I'd started to lose hope, but we found you, Villain. I found you, finally, after four years." A choked laugh escaped his lips, and Pet found himself crying as well, tears silently dampening the pillow beneath his cheek. "I don't know what that bastard did to you, Villain, but you've got to be in there somewhere. Please, come back to me." Clammy hands rested on top of one of Pets', but he didn't move. Neither of them did.

"Right. Well," Hero said, sniffling as they stood. "I have to go. I'll be back tomorrow." He leaned down and kissed Vil- Pet on the head, soft warm lips penetrating the cold and spreading heat across his face.

Then Hero left, and Pet sat there, confused. He had been right, Hero had been the one to steal him away from his Master, and he knew anger and resentment should have followed. If Master saw him now, with tears falling freely from his now open eyes, saw his quivering lip, he'd be punished terribly; but he couldn't help it.

He knew what he'd seen. Something so familiar was in those tired eyes, but he couldn't put his finger on it. And he didn't want to. He didn't want to be disloyal to his master, so he bit his lip and hid his puffy eyes, resuming the mantra's he had been told so many times.

Stay quiet. Be patient. Behave. You will not see or speak until I find you.

Well done, Pet.

Well done, Villain.

part 3

tag-list: @bleeding-letters @nicolepascaline @whumped-inc @subval01 @whumpkinz @littlespacecastle @hollowgast1 @aswallowimprisoned @edkore @vermillion-emerald

Let me know if you want off the tag-list-- I wasn't sure if people who asked to be on the tag list wanted this series specifically or in general

#writeblr #writing #writing community #my writing #villain #hero #hero and villain #hero x villain #whump #heroes and villains #pet whumpe #past torture #whumpee #caretaker #hero caretaker #tw restraints #tw hospital setting #villain whumpee #pet whump

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