Day 8 - no anesthesia with hurt!Fundy
Other characters: Tubbo, Tommy
Other tags: Dream SMP setting, L'Manberg independence war, child soldiers, field medicine
Summary: Three kids and the reality of war
There's nowhere for them to go, so they drag Fundy into a hole kicking and screaming.
Tubbo covers Fundy's mouth with his hand, doesn't even flinch at the feeling of spit and blood pooling against his skin. The arrow has pierced Fundy's chest, right above the ribs. Sinking metal in between them, rupturing the lung beneath. What is coming up his throat is just that which has already been ripped apart on the inside.
"Okay!" Tommy says, all decisive and zealous and with eyes wide, terrified. "Okay! We need to- The potion, potion!" He's fumbling around. "Where the fuck is it?"
Fundy bites Tubbo, a quick sharp nip of warning that makes him pull his hand away so Fundy can cough up phlegm. "Pull the arrow out first," he says once he catches his breath.
And Tubbo nods because, of course, yes, Wilbur taught them how to do this. Eret showed them the basics. They were told exactly what steps to take if injured out on the patches of no man's land they were fighting for.
"Don't lose a life out there," Wilbur had told them, commanded them as their leader. They wouldn't know what else to do but listen.
But there's such a stark difference between the adults explaining it to them, patient and joking with their dismissive air that made it easy for them to believe they were in no real danger, and this- Fundy expelling part of his insides shredded, blood pooling out around the shaft, claws trembling as he clung to Tubbo's uniform.
What they had been doing before was merely play pretend, battlefields of grass and sticks as their weapons.
This is war.
"We need to pull the arrow out before using the potion," Tubbo emphasizes, feeling eerily calm. "Otherwise the flesh will close around it and get all weird and shit."
Fundy barks out a laugh. "Yeah, what he says. Wouldn't want weird flesh."
"That's gonna hurt," Tommy mutters, pronouncing the last word strangely - like it's foul. Where their experiences with pain are supposed to lie, scratched knees and backyard tumbles, feels like such a pathetic farce compared to this.
Fundy's shoulders are shaking, head falling back against the cobblestone as blood trickles down the side of his mouth, staining his lips. Tubbo knows they don't have an abundance of time.
"We can do it in one yank, you'll hardly even feel it."
(and oh, they'd been taught something about promises they couldn't keep too, hadn't they?)
"Yeah, yeah." Fundy's hand drags along his arm, falling to his side. "In one go, then."
Tubbo nods again, staring at the arrow sticking out of Fundy's flesh, and doesn't move. He can't. He can't bring himself to move. Something wet is pooling against his knees, Fundy's eyes are half-closed and Tubbo can't bring himself to move.
Tommy can. He tries to jerk the arrow out in one go, fast. The pointed ends still get stuck. Fundy screams, seizing upwards. Tubbo only just pushes him down again before things can get worse.
"Harder!"
Three more tugs and then it finally dislodges. Fundy wouldn't stop shrieking but they're far beyond caring if anybody will find them now. So long as this ends. Tommy opens the bottle to splash some potion on Fundy's chest, so the flesh can knit itself closed and he doesn't bleed out.
And for a moment there is near silence, heaving breathes and the still-too-wet noises of Fundy's exhales.
"Fuck that," Tommy says empathically.
Fundy grins at them, blood-stained teeth.
Tubbo knows they're too young for this, but still... he smiles back as if it's a victory.
