Alternate Prompt - Tumblr Posts

Self-Sacrifice

If I gave you the truth would it keep you alive? Though I’m closer to wrong, I’m no further than right. -Truth [Seether] Febuwhump Day 18: Alternate Prompt “Hostage” | Fandom: Overwatch (Pre-Fall) | Angela / Gabriel

AO3 | FF.net | Works

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Less than two hours later, Angela was perched on a roof, waiting for the fighting to begin. It tried her patience, sitting and waiting for it to be safe to proceed while she knew people were dying, but she forced herself to remain where she was. It would be far more dangerous to those civilians if she drew the attention of their attackers. Twenty minutes later, she was carefully swooping down, her HUD having led her to the survivors. As Angela’s eyes swept the scene, she was grateful that she had convinced Jack. These people weren’t equipped to handle this type of damage - most of the uninjured were sitting in shock; Angela didn’t blame them, but she also knew she had to rally them. “I’m in position,” Angela reported quietly into the comm unit before striding into the mess of people to bark orders. Under her cool gaze and firm declarations, she managed to push people into action; some were to find supplies in the nearby ruins while others were directed to apply pressure to open wounds that Angela could see. Once she trusted that they wouldn’t fall back into their despair, Angela turned to the worst of the injured. Blood was everywhere on the woman, but Angela couldn’t find any debris in the wounds. “You,” she pointed at a nearby man with one bloody hand, “come here, please.” The man approached unsteadily, clearly uncomfortable with the gore before him - but she didn’t have time for his, or anyone else's, squeamishness. “Take this,” Angela ordered, offering her staff. Normally, she would never part with her staff - but there wasn’t anyone else here to help her, so she needed to adapt. Angela quickly instructed him on using the staff before directing him to use it on the woman. “If the wounds aren’t healing after a few minutes, let me know,” Angela told him; that would mean something else was wrong with the woman, which would require Angela’s direct attention. Once she was sure he was using it right, she moved to a nearby man who was almost as bloody as the woman she’d just left. Angela wasn’t sure how long she had worked - between her and the man with her staff, she had helped at least four or five people - when everyone around her went silent. “Well, well, what do we have here?” Fingers, red and sticky with blood, dropped to her blaster as she turned, wings flaring in a bid to protect and shelter those now behind her. It wasn’t hard for her to find the three armed men, weapons pointed threateningly at the surrounding civilians. “Now, doctor, don’t do anything stupid,” the one in the middle said, his words almost a taunt. “We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt or anything.” The man to the left chuckled as he nudged a woman with the tip of his gun, causing her to whimper. “No,” Angela agreed, “we would not want that.” Slowly, Angela released her blaster and raised her hand to show her surrender. Her aim wasn’t good enough to take on three of them, even if she weren’t surrounded by noncombatants. “Is there anything I can do for you? Medical assistance, perhaps?” She offered, keeping her voice cool instead of desperate. Angela could hear the strike teams buzzing in her ear - none of them knew that she was in danger, and she had no way to tell them. “You know, Dr. Ziegler,” Angela stiffened at the use of her real name, “I think there is something you can do for us,” the leader said, lifting his assault rifle to rest on one shoulder casually. “You can come with us.” Angela’s eyes flashed; she knew better than to go anywhere with an enemy. “Or,” the man continued, “we can kill everyone here and take you with us.” He shrugged as if the choice didn’t really matter to him. “It’s your decision, doctor.” The man smirked, knowing he had her. “I’ll give you a minute to think about it.” As if she needed a minute. Angela hated that their assessments had been correct - the second response had been the target. Jack had known better and hadn’t wanted to risk her, but she had pushed. Angela had been right to come - these people would have died without her aid - but she was too valuable for Overwatch to lose. But what else could she do? Angela knew that she couldn’t fight off these men, couldn’t escape them before they caught her. Even if she called for help right now, she doubted any of the teams could reach her before these men killed everyone. All her resistance would do was cause every noncombatant in this room to die. “I will go with you,” Angela said, spreading her hands before her in surrender. “There is no need for violence.” The man smiled then, a horrible thing full of teeth and malice. “I appreciate your cooperation, doctor.” He looked her over quickly. “Get rid of the gun,” he ordered. Angela complied, slowly pulling out the blaster and crouching to set it on the ground. Before he could tell her where to send it, she kicked it backward - away from anyone who might use it. “The comm unit,” he added, once she had straightened. Angela hesitated for only a moment before reaching up with careful fingers; once she had it detached from her and out of her ear, she dropped it to the ground. “Don’t!” He yelled sharply as she moved to crush it. Angela lowered her foot back down slowly; she had hoped to signal her distress by killing her feed altogether - apparently, this man was wise to the trick. “You said you would cooperate, Dr. Ziegler,” the man chided, wagging one finger at her before turning to look at the man on his right. “Show Dr. Ziegler what happens when she doesn’t keep her word.” Before Angela could do anything - say anything - the man had whipped his gun up and killed one of the cowering men. “No!” Angela shrieked, stepping forward with one hand extended - but it was too late; the man was dead. “Stop, stop, I’m cooperating!” Angela forced her horror and nausea back - God, his death was her fault, if she hadn’t tried to be clever - and made herself appear calm, despite her outburst. She was Dr. Angela Ziegler, and she would not show weakness before these monsters. “I trust I’ve made my point,” the man said, and she nodded her head in a jerky movement. She had learned her lesson: to disobey was to risk the lives of those around her, those she was here to protect and save. “Good. Come here.” Angela kept her eyes firmly on the leader as she closed the distance between them with careful steps. As soon as she was within reach, the man wrapped one hand around her bicep in a cruel grip. Angela bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. “Finish it,” he ordered, turning to drag Angela along behind him. “Wait, you said—” Angela’s eyes widened as gunfire and screams erupted behind her. It was then she struggled: she dug in her heels and tore at his hand. When that didn’t work, she loosened her knees and let herself drop into pure deadweight; that stalled him for a moment, but then he yanked her back to her feet. “You said you’d let them live!” The words were a mixture of hysteria, grief, and terror. “I surrendered!” That had been the deal: her life, her cooperation, for their lives. The mans’ grip tightened on her - something she hadn’t thought possible, considering how hard he had originally grabbed her - as he pulled her along, away from the blood-soaked room. “I lied, doctor.” The gunfire stopped, and then there was nothing but silence as Angela was dragged away. She forced back the tears that threatened to fall; she would not cry before this man - this monster - who had ordered the deaths of innocent people for no reason.

“Strike Commander!” Jack’s hand raised automatically at the call, activating the microphone almost before he realized it. “Strike Commander here. Report.” His voice was cool as he watched the cameras before him. “It’s Mercy, sir,” the voice continued, hesitating. Jack went cold as he leaned down to brace himself against his desk. “What’s happened to her?” That was the only reason the man would be hesitant in his report; no one liked to give bad news, after all. “I - I think she was taken, sir.” At least she wasn’t dead - but that wasn’t much consolation. “We, uh, we went to find her once the fighting was done. Her comm unit led us to - well, maybe you should see for yourself, sir.” Jack swallowed hard before accessing the agents’ camera. There was blood everywhere. Arcs of it had gone up the walls and dripped from the ceiling while more had pooled on the floor. Everywhere the agent turned was a dead person - men, women, and children; none were spared. Jack couldn’t see Angela among the dead - though he imagined the agent would have reported that immediately. “As you can see, sir, everyone is dead. We’ve recovered her effects,” the camera - the agent - turned so that Jack could see them. “Her staff, gun, and comm unit, sir.” They had been piled haphazardly on the ground in one of the few places that wasn’t dripping with blood. “Make sure you bring them back with you,” Jack ordered with a heavy heart. “Comb the area to see if you can find her - or any sign of her captors.” “Yes, Strike Commander.” Jack closed the feed and sat back in his chair. God, he did not want to make this next call - but it would be so much worse if he didn’t. Jack wished Ana were still here; she had been so much better at handling these kinds of situations. Resigned, Jack scooped up his communicator and dialed a familiar number. “Yeah?” Despite the situation, Jack rolled his eyes; of course, he would be greeted with sass. “Gabe,” Jack kept his voice sober instead of rising to the bait, “are you alone?” Jack knew that Gabriel wouldn’t want witnesses for this conversation. “I don’t have time for whatever this is,” Gabriel said instead, blowing off Jack as he so often did these days. “Gabe.” Jack snapped. “Make time. It’s about Angela.” Gabriel muttered a slew of curses. Jack wasn’t sure, but it sounded like he was walking down a hallway. A door slammed, and then: “Alright, I’m alone. What’s happened to Angela?” Gabriel demanded; while the two men were often at odds these days, they could always agree upon one thing: Angela’s safety. "She’s been taken.” Jack released a pent-up breath; for better or for worse, he’d said it. “I don’t know who took her, but they left her staff.” “You don’t—” Gabriel cut himself off with a frustrated sound. “Damn it, Jack!” There was a banging sound - Jack was pretty sure that was Gabriel slamming his fist into his desk. Silence fell between the two men. Jack didn’t have any words - he was responsible for Angela’s safety and had let her down; Gabriel, Jack knew, was far too angry and worried to speak. “I’ll find her, and I’ll get her back.” Gabriel finally announced. Jack nodded as if the other man could see him. “I swear to God, Jack, if she’s hurt because of this—” Gabriel didn’t finish the threat, but Jack didn’t really need him to. “Yeah,” Jack breathed, “I know.” The line went dead, and Jack set his communicator down on the desk again. He allowed himself a moment to sit, one hand covering his face, before forcing himself to his feet. There were things he - Overwatch - could do in the search for Angela. He just hoped they could find her before it was too late.

One | Two | Three | Four | Five

Retaliation|T|301 Words

Read on AO3

Fandom: Naruto

Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Namikaze Minato

Characters: Hatake Kakashi, Original Characters, Namikaze Minato

Tags: Whumptober 2024, Friendly Fire, Young Hatake Kakashi, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: Kakashi is on a mission with a new group not long after he returns to Konoha with Obito’s eye. One of them happens to be an Uchiha.

Whumptober 2024 Day 8: Alternate Prompt: Friendly Fire

Whumpril 2023

Coincidence

Day 6: “Don’t push me away.”

Contents: TW blood, bruises, and burns, Caretaker, Whumpee, Signs Of Abuse, Stormy Weather, Reluctance To Accept Help, Fear, Begging, Whimpering.

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The clouds rolled in, dark and heavy. It took no time for the rain to start pouring on unsuspecting people who had been deceived by the clear skies mere minutes ago. The rain fell like pins and needles at rapid speeds. The wind was unmerciful to anyone without a windbreaker or even those with umbrellas.

“Fuck.”

Dolion ducked into the nearest alley way. The wind couldn’t reach him in between the brick buildings, except for the occasional channel that swept pass him. He got his phone out from his right pocket and called for a ride.

Soft crying could be heard just barely, practically carried by the wind. Dolion looked to his left, further down the alley way. He had only just noticed a crouched figure behind a dumpster. Should I help them? He took a few step towards the figure. His footsteps were louder than he would have liked them to be, no thanks to the expanding puddles that have almost engulfed the concrete. The closer he got, the more noticeable the crying became.

Not wanting to scare them, Dolion let out a light, “hey.”

The crying turned into whimpering, they’re legs pulled closer into themselves. Dolion came into view of the figure and was taken aback by the sight. The sniffling man was littered with bruises and fresh cuts that had dry blood washing away with the rain. They were sitting in a puddle dyed a faint red. It took him too long to notice the burn on their cheek, as if an iron was pressed to their face. They only had a t-shirt and shorts on, they shivered from both the rain and the fear.

“p-p-ple-se d-don’t h-h-hurt m… me.”

The man looked up with pleading eyes through his wet, matted hair. They were red and puffy. Dolion crouched in front of him. The man very noticeably flinched.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I-I want to help you. What happened to you?”

The man tucked his head into his legs, not wanting to answer. Dolion took his jacket off and threw it on top of the mans head and shoulders. The man quickly shoved Dolion to the ground. He tried to press himself impossibly further into the wall and curled back up into his ball, practically ignoring the jacket as if he hadn’t noticed it was on him.

Dolion, surprised by the reaction, simply got up to his crouched position again. He reached for the jacket so that he can readjust it. He anticipated the man’s movements this time. Dolion grabbed his arms before he could use them causing him to whimper.

“Don’t push me away.”

The man tried to tug his arms away from Dolion but he was clearly too weak to resist.

“I gave you my jacket, I want to help you. Please don’t be scared.”

The man stopped his struggling and took a moment to finally notice the jacket that had been covering his head. Dolion released his arms, but the man kept them in the air. Dolion reached for the jacket and adjusted its position so the rain wouldn’t hit the man’s face.

“Is that better?”

The man nodded, taking back his arms and tucking them away. “Th-thank y-you sir.” He still seemed tense, but clearly confused by the act of kindness.

Before Dolion spoke up, he heard a honk to his right. He looked over and saw his ride. He was happy to get out of the rain, but he didn’t want to leave this man here.

“How about we get you out of this storm?”

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Date: April 6, 2023

Taglist: @whumpril