#aftermath of captivity

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1256

Submitted by Anon - thanks!

TW: starvation | disordered eating

If a character has become accustomed to prolonged under-nourishment, they probably won't be "fine" as soon as they can eat adequately. Of course there's the psychological recovery from whatever experience(s) they had, but also their body may not remember how to deal with normal amounts of food.

A few things they may experience when they start eating more (severe cases can be dangerous and require medical intervention, these are just in the "unpleasant" range):

Poor appetite and rapid/disproportionate satiety

Bad stomach aches

Increased lethargy/fatigue, in general but especially after meals

Suddenly needing a lot more sleep

Dizziness/shakiness/weakness if they haven't eaten for a few hours, even if they don't feel hungry.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

day 11: escape/breaking the conditioning/safe and sound + daero

Prompt from the Augusnippets @augusnippets challenge!

Path of Comfort: day 11: escape/breaking the conditioning/safe and sound

Could loosely be read as a follow-up to this, with the same caretakers

Content Warnings: demon whump, aftermath of captivity, aftermath of torture, trauma, nightmares, comfort, rescue, recovery, pain medicine

----

A week later and it still doesn't feel real.

The two humans tell Daero that he is safe and sound. That there will continue to be food and water, that their hands won't strike him. Their touches are soft, their voices quiet. They smell like citrus and cinnamon.

But still Daero flinches when either one enters the room. He still expects to wake in that damp dungeon, chained, beaten and starved.

Nightmares plague him, disrupting his much needed rest. On the worst nights, like tonight, his cries wake the humans and they are quickly by his side.

He is just awake enough to hear and feel them. One soothes him with kind words while wiping his tears away. The other holds a spoonful of pain medicine to his lips until he drinks. Then they sit on either side of him and wait.

In the moments just before falling asleep, when the medicine kicks in and he melts into the cushions, Daero feels something like peace.

[fallenwhumpee]

"An Hour."

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Hospital settings, aftermath of captivity, mentioned death.

Medic, despite what their job would suggest, wasn't a caregiver. They were just a mechanic working on circuits, not who carefully kept the whole mechanism running. They could fix people, but it was that. Someone would have to take over the aftermath.

Much to Medic's relief, Leader was a caregiver. A good one, even.

Too good, they lately noticed. Too good that it was starting to make Medic worried. But just like every other day, Medic knocked the infirmary door in exactly same time, before opening it fully. Youngest was asleep in the hospital bed - Medic had said Leader that it was unnecessary, but Leader  brought one anyway - and at last drops of their IV.

"An hour," Leader muttered. At this point it felt like a ritual. So, without a word, Medic moved and changed Youngest's IV to antibiotics as Leader deserted the room silently. Probably to sleep.

Good, Medic thought. Leader needed it.

Medic made their way to the armchair, only to see Leader's office keys on it. For a moment, they considered giving it back. They respected privacy, but they were also curious. For the last one month and a half, all Leader did was looking for Youngest, caring for Youngest or staying in their office. The first two was understandable, but the third...

Now Medic could learn whatever Leader was doing in their office.

Medic hesitated. They shouldn’t invade Leader’s privacy—Leader had done nothing to earn suspicion, at all. And Leader never broke anyone's boundries, so Medic doing it to them was just wrong. But something had been gnawing at the back of Medic’s mind for weeks now, something beyond the usual worry for Youngest. Leader’s behavior, so single-minded, so intense, felt wrong. So wrong for someone almost obsessed with making the future better. And if there was something in that office that could explain it...

Steeling themselves, Medic turned and walked down the hall to Leader’s office. The key slid into the lock with an ease that almost felt too simple. "Where's Leader?" Medic shouted. Leader's room was wide open and Leader wasn't there.

"Went for a quick walk," Right Hand shouted back.

Medic took a deep breath. "Okay," they muttered. With a simple twist, the door creaked open. Medic slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind them slowly. The room was dim, the only light filtering through the half-drawn blinds, casting long shadows across the walls. At first glance, it looked like any other office—neat, organized, professional. Just like how Leader liked to keep everything. Medic opened the lights.

Notes. Dozens of them, pinned to a board on the wall, scattered across the desk, and even taped to the edges of the bookshelves, almost creating a wallpaper. Most were in Leader’s precise handwriting, detailing locations, names, dates, and other pieces of information that, together, painted a picture out of a detective's office. Medic’s gaze was drawn to a map on the wall, marked with pins and red string connecting various points. They moved closer, recognizing the locations as places where incidents had occurred—break-ins, disappearances, attacks. All related to Youngest.

Their heart pounded as they picked up a file from the desk. It had a picture, the person's face partially obscured, but there was no mistaking who it was. Medic had seen that face around Whumper—one of the underlings of them. The person had been found dead two weeks ago, the cause still under investigation. There were detailed reports about them, autopsies, locations, biographies... informations that Medic doubted Leader had the authority to kno let alone storing.

They set the file down, their hands trembling slightly. Leader had been gathering evidence, but it wasn’t just about finding Youngest. It was about something more.

Another photo on the desk caught their eye. Medic took it, revealing more photos, more notes underneath. Some were crossed out, others highlighted. A list of names—people connected to the kidnapping—each one with a note beside it: confirmed dead, under surveillance, possible lead.

Some of these people were no longer a threat because they were dead. Was it coincidence, or had Leader...?

The sound of footsteps in the hallway snapped Medic out of their thoughts. They hurriedly closed the folder and placed thr picture back on the desk, glancing around to make sure everything was as they’d found it. The door clicked shut just as the office door opened.

Leader stepped inside, looking tired but alert. They froze for a moment, eyes narrowing as they stared in the sight of Medic standing in their office.

“What are you doing here?” Leader’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a warning.

Medic tried to keep their expression neutral, forcing a casual shrug qs if they weren’t digging through the room for the last ten minutes. “You left your keys on the chair. Thought I’d drop them off.”

Leader’s gaze flicked to the keys in Medic’s hand, then back to their face. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Leader crossed the room, taking the keys with a nod.

“Thank you,” they said, their tone polite but distant. “Please wait for my return next time.”

Medic nodded, feeling the tension in the air like a physical weight. They turned to leave, but couldn’t help one last glance at the desk, at the folder now lying innocently on the surface.

Leader didn’t miss the look. “Is there something else?”

“No,” Medic replied quickly, shaking their head. “Just... take care of yourself, okay? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Leader’s expression relaxed, a smile so soft and tender taking over. “Don't worry. Byt you should get some rest too.”

How could Medic be suspicious of them when all Leader did was worrying and caring for the team? Shoving the guilt down, they forced a smile and left the office.

-•-

Later that day, Medic was in the break room when the news broke. The television mounted on the wall buzzed with static before the anchor’s voice cut in, somber and urgent.

“We interrupt this program with breaking news. Henchman, a key figure in the recent string of criminal activities linked to the late terrorist Whumper, was found dead earlier this evening. Authorities are investigating, but details remain scarce at this time.”

Medic’s blood ran cold. Henchman—another name on Leader’s list. Dead. Just like the others.

They stood frozen, the room spinning around them. The timeline didn’t add up. Leader couldn’t have done it—they had only left the office for ten minutes, not enough time to cross the city and back. But the coincidences were too many, too pointed.

When Medic next saw Leader, they couldn’t help but study their face, searching for anything. But Leader looked even more drained than the last time, still trying to hold it together desperately. When Medic mentioned the news, Leader’s response was calm, almost indifferent.

“Tragic, but not unexpected,” Leader muttered, shrugging slightly. They weren’t even focused— they looked like they could just collapse and take a twenty four hour nap. “Agency was after them. It was only a matter of time.”

Medic nodded slowly, but the uneasy feeling in their gut only grew. There was something, something that was beyond their understanding. But as Leader walked away, Medic knew one thing for certain— Leader was doing something wrong. It was either their sleeping habits or the team had a huge problem.

-•-

Soo, have another random one. This is standalone, but I wrote this with "A Score to Settle" in my mind. Not quite part two, but I began writing with that intention.

[whumpshots]

Whumptober #29

Trope of the day: “What happened to me?”

_

Machines are beeping, footsteps walking in and out of the room. Someone talks to another person, but they can't hear out anything they are saying.

Whumpee remembers the coldness in the cell they had been sitting in for weeks. Their body throbbed and hurt with every breath they took, now they are warm and ... painless.

Is this death?

It takes a few more moments for them to finally open their heavy lids, the room is not as bright as they anticipated. The talking stops and someone rushes to their sides.

There are hands on them, warm and gentle. Whumpee's throat hurts as they open their mouth and croak “What happened to me?”

[darkthingshappen]

🧣☺️ for ben!

A Soft Blankie and Words of Reassurance.  

Ben was home.  He wasn’t in his cage, he wasn’t in Volkov’s bed with it’s horrible chains and restraint systems.  He wasn’t at the hospital.  He was home.  In his own bed.  

When he opened his eyes, if he were here and not trapped in some horrid flashback, he could see the spring light from his mother’s garden dancing its reflection on his ceiling.  He could smell his family.  It sounded odd to think about it like that, but it was true.  His house had a smell.  Not a bed smell, just a homey, comforting smell.  It was candles and cooking and soap and aftershave and and essential oils and blankets and laundry detergent.  A smell unique to their specific combination of habits.  

Ben slowly let his eyes wander from the ceiling.  It was safe to look at the ceiling.  He looked at his walls - band posters and cheesy science posters that he’d put on the wall in high school and never took down.  Lower still… His desk, Zoe’s ring still hopefully tucked away and hidden in one of the lower drawers.  And Jake.  Ben stopped.  Jake was curled up in that stupid papasan chair that Ben, with his long lanky limbs, always felt like he was going to fall out of.  

Ben quirked his head to the side.  While it was rare for him to be left alone, it wasn’t usually Jake that was there.  Jake didn’t live with them.  Jake had been in custody.  There was a lot that was still blurry and unexplained to Ben since he’d come home, but he remembered that.  

A black reflection on Jake’s ankle caught his eye and he had to do a double take to make sure it wasn’t a black leather cuff.  He felt a flash of the phantom cuff around his own ankles and wrists and was suddenly on the verge of being back there once again.  

Ben squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate on what was real.  The smell of the house again, the feel of the blankets, the garden sunlight reflecting on his ceiling.  As his breathing calmed again, he opened his eyes.  Jake was awake now.  He sat very still and looked at Ben cautiously.  

Ben glanced at Jake’s ankle again.  There was a black band there, but it was an ankle monitor, not a black leather cuff.  

“Hey, Benny.”

Ben still hadn’t fully mastered talking again.  He could talk, but conversation was hard, so he just nodded.  

Jake slowly rose from the precarious papasan chair and crept over to the far edge of Ben’s bed.  

“Sorry if I scared you.  Just, they let me out last night and… and I needed to see you.”

Ben’s eyebrows knit together in a silent question.  Why?  

Jake reached out to touch his hair and then pulled his hand back.  They all knew what happened if they did that.  Ben was grateful he remembered.  

“I… I just needed to know you were okay.  That you were okay and really home.”

Ben didn’t know what to say.  What was he supposed to say?

Jake reached down and snatched something off the floor.  

“Also, I brought this.”  He held out a soft pastel blue knitted blanket.  

The edges were raggedy where there should have been a satin ribbon.  Ben had chewed it off as a toddler.  It was his baby blanket that his mother had knitted for him while she’d been pregnant with him.  Somewhere Jake had a matching green one.  

“It was… it was in storage and I… Well, I thought it might help so I went and dug it out of the garage for you.”  Jake tucked it against Ben and the familiar sight and texture was instantly reassuring.  

“Th-thanks,” Ben managed to croak out.  He felt stupid pulling it against his chest and rubbing the delicate yarn against his face, but it was so familiar and soft and he couldn’t help but love his brother all the more for thinking of it.  Jake looked down at the floor, his face red with shame and guilt.  

“I… I’m so sorry, Benny.  I… I should have come and seen you more in the hospital.  They would have let me, you know.  Agent Vaughn offered.  But I… anyway I’m sorry.  I’m… I’m…”

Ben reached out and touched the back of Jake’s hand.  

Jake moved his fingers and brushed the scars that curled around Ben’s wrists where the leather cuff had been for fourteen long, hellish months.  

“I can’t ever make this right.”

Ben could see that sadness on Jake’s face.  His brother had aged, much like himself, over the last year and change.  Ben saw Jake’s eyes flick to Ben’s neck and he knew he was looking at the similar scars that rested there, made all the worse by countless electrical burns from the shock collar.  And the fucking slave tattoo. Ben's face reddened slightly with his own shame.

“I should go.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have come here.  I’m sorry.  I’ll just…”

Ben’s grip on Jake’s wrist tightened and he shook his head at him.  

“S-st-stay?” Ben asked.  

“Why?”  Jake whispered.  

Ben tugged the blanket closer to himself.  There were so many words that he would have to say one day.  Good, bad, angry, loving.  He was too tired for all that.  They would have to be said, shouted, whispered, or cried at a later time.  

“Family.  Y-you’re my b-brother.”  It was all he could really muster.  

Ben saw the tears well up in Jake’s eyes.  His hands flew to his face and he sobbed into them.  

Ben let his own tears flow.  

An hour later, when Ben’s mom poked her head in to check on him, she found both her boys sound asleep on Ben’s bed, his baby blanket tucked over both of them. 

Tags: @i-can-even-burn-salad @peachy-panic @deluxewhump @arwenadreamer @whumpcereal @melancholy-in-the-morning @dont-touch-my-soup @whumpsday @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @oddsconvert @melennui @susiequaz12 @morning-star-whump @crystalquartzwhump @whump-and-other-things @mylifeisonthebookshelf @reflected-pain @hold-him-down @quietshae @quietly-by-myself @there-will-always-be-bloodblood @whumping-seven-days-a-week @hiding-in-the-shadows @mj-or-say10 (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this) 

[catwings-writes-things]

Febuwhump day 1, prompt “helpless!”

Helen exists, helps Jon escape the Circus of the Other, and does some self-reflection.

[zoethehead]

and here's the other sketch., it's of after wulf was brought to the Tegian castle.

(story below)

- -

He came to, being dragged by the arms. “My lord, we found this straggler sinking underneath the ocean and badly injured.” a voice said. Wulf opened his eyes to a teal marble colored floor, he was soon thrown down onto said floor, trying his best to stifle his pain as he turned onto his tattered back and coughed up any excess water that he had in his lungs. “And WHY did you decide to bring him here? You shoulda just let him be left out for the sharks!” a voice yelled. Wulf looked up, seeing what was supposedly the king. “Father, that is enough!!!” another voice shouted, through blurry vision he saw the owner of that voice; it was someone--possibly around his age, his hair tied into a bun; colored orange with streaks of magenta. “Why do you need to interfere with this situation, Chalakon?!” the king shouted. “Because he doesn’t seem to be a threat, okay?” Chalakon sighed. “HE IS, Every human is a colonizer, We don’t need Humans Colonizing Tegia!” the king argued…. The arguing went on and on and on, Wulf couldn’t really make sense of it, he was just tired and so...so numb, he looked up at the blue stone ceiling, his consciousness eventually giving way before he sunk back into the dark and vast depths of unconsciousness.

[whumpster-dumpster]

A whumpee with glasses who's been in captivity for years, finally seeing the free world again with a new clear, crisp prescription through lenses that aren't scratched and cracked and filthy

[serickswrites]

Lie Still

@lurkingwhump gave me such a delightful idea for this little piece

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds, rescue, unconsciousness, bed side vigil, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

The world Whumpee lived in was hazy. Hazy and narrow. Logically they knew this meant they weren't going to live much longer, that Whumper had gone too far and cut too deep. Logically they knew that they were bleeding out and would be gone soon. But they were too tired and too cold to care.

They were so tired. They could barely keep their eyes open. Each time their eyes drifted closed, they knew they had to open them again. They couldn't let the last few moments of their life slip away with closed eyes. Even if the world was hazy.

Sounds were muffled and distorted. They thought they had heard Whumper talking to them. Then the sound of a fight. But that didn't make sense. Whumper had them all alone. There was no one else here. Perhaps their mind was playing tricks on them.

But their mind played the cruelest trick of all: Caretaker. They could hear Caretaker calling to them. They began to cry as they realized it was their dying brain trying to soothe them. To give them one last measure of comfort as they faded into oblivion.

"Whumpee, darling, it's ok, you're ok. I've got you," Caretaker murmured in Whumpee's ear.

Whumpee sobbed harder as they lay there, the hallucination of Caretaker stroking their hair as shadows moved in and out of their field of vision. Even though Caretaker was supposed to be a measure of comfort, it hurt Whumpee. Hurt worse than the pain of being cut open repeatedly by Whumper. Hurt more than any torture Whumper had done. Because Caretaker wasn't here, but Whumpee wanted them. Wanted them more than anything.

"Keep your eyes open, darling. You're doing so great. Please, come on. Look at me, Whumpee. I've got you."

Whumpee wanted to look at the hallucination. Wanted to listen to Caretaker's voice. Because even if Caretaker wasn't really here, they were soothed. As Whumpee let themself fade into oblivion, they could have sworn they heard their hallucination crying softly.

***

Caretaker froze the moment they entered into Whumper's torture chamber. Whumpee was restrained to a metal table in the center of the room, their abdomen and chest cut to ribbons, their blood flowing over the edges of the table and onto the floor. The floor was slick with Whumpee's blood.

"What did they do to you, Whumpee?" Caretaker muttered as they hurried over. The medic had called for them to hurry, that they weren't too late, but it was close.

They could see Whumpee was blinking slowly, their breathing shallow. Between the deep slash marks in their body and blood loss, Caretaker knew Whumpee was going into shock. And if they lost consciousness, Caretaker wasn't sure they would wake up. "I'm here, Whumpee."

Whumpee was unresponsive to their words. "Whumpee, darling, it's ok, you're ok. I've got you," Caretaker murmured in Whumpee's ear.

They were unsure where they could touch Whumpee. Between the team of medics working to stabilize Whumpee and all the injuries on their body, Caretaker wasn't sure where wouldn't hurt. They stroked Whumpee's hair and murmured in Whumpee's ear.

"Keep your eyes open, darling. You're doing so great. Please, come on. Look at me, Whumpee. I've got you."

It didn't matter how much they begged Whumpee to keep awake. They knew Whumpee wouldn't be conscious for much longer. Their only hope was that the medic had done enough to stop the bleeding to get Whumpee to the hospital.

But as they watched Whumpee's eyes close, no longer fluttering open, panic gripped Caretaker's heart. As Whumpee took a stuttering breath and went still beneath the medic's hands, Caretaker looked around, desperate to find any help.

"It's ok, Caretaker, I gave them something to make transport easier," the medic reassured Caretaker. "I'm going to try and dress some of these, it's going to hurt. I want them to be comfortable."

As Whumpee was whisked away from them, Caretaker tried to swallow past the lump in their throat. Whumpee would live. Whumpee had to live. Caretaker wouldn't be able to living in a world without Whumpee.

***

"What did they do to you, darling?" Caretaker whispered to the near silent room. They had taken up residence in the chair next to Whumpee's bed the moment the doctor said that they could. Whumpee hadn't woken yet, no one was sure when, or even if, Whumpee would wake up.

The only thing that told Caretaker that Whumpee was still alive was the whirring and hissing of the ventilator and the steady, regular beeps of the heart monitor. Whumpee was alive. Whumpee was alive. They weren't too late. They squeezed Whumpee's hand. "Please come back to me, darling. I'm here. I've got you. Please come back to me."

Death would not be good enough for Whumper. Caretaker was going to rip Whumper apart limb from limb the moment Whumpee was stable enough for them to leave. Caretaker couldn't risk leaving and having Whumpee fade away to nothing.

Caretaker's rage was nearly all consuming. To be angry, to be ready to destroy Whumper felt so much better than to give into the terror that had been gripping Caretaker's heart since they found Whumpee. Since they nearly lost Whumpee.

Whumpee was strong. They were a fighter. Caretaker kept reassuring themself that Whumpee would wake soon. That Whumpee would be ok. That they would heal. They wouldn't lose Whumpee. Whumpee would be ok.

Caretaker didn't want to imagine what would happen otherwise.

***

"Darling, you have to stay in bed," Caretaker urged Whumpee four days later.

Whumpee lay against the pillows, their face glistening with sweat. But they had the look of determination on their face that Caretaker knew was dangerous. "Darling, you are still so weak. Please, please lay back."

"I....I am tired of....being in bed." Whumpee's speech was still stilted, every word and effort for them to get enough breath to speak. Whumper had injured their lungs. Whumpee was determined to stand today. They pushed off again and tried to rise.

"Darling, you will tear your stitches. Please, lay back. For me?" Caretaker put a gentle hand on Whumpee's shoulder and guided them back down to the pillows.

Whumpee didn't want to admit it, but Caretaker was right. They were so exhausted. What little energy they had evaporated with their attempt to sit up in bed. "Maybe....maybe I....could nap....for a while."

Caretaker smiled softly at Whumpee. "I think that's a great idea, darling." Caretaker took Whumpee's hand in their and squeezed. "I'll watch over you. Rest, please, darling."

Whumpee's eyelids slipped closed as they could no longer fight the weight. "Love you," Whumpee muttered as sleep claimed them again.

"I love you, too," Caretaker said as they leaned down and kissed Whumpee's forehead.

Which is why they were going to end Whumper at the first opportunity they could. Caretaker knew that their colleagues wouldn't let them get close to Whumper. Wouldn't let them be alone in a room. Still, there was always the opportunity for something. Because death was not good enough for Whumper. Not after everything they put Whumpee through.

"Sleep, darling, I'll keep you safe. I'll always keep you safe. I love you so much, darling," Caretaker murmured again as they watched Whumpee relax into a deeper sleep.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

An Offer You Can't Refuse- Part 3

Part 2

Hero did not win. They woke up back in their bed, a few bruises blooming across their body, with the beginnings of a black eye. They groaned, sitting up.

“Ow…” Hero mumbled.

“How are you feeling?”

Hero jolted, and immediately regretted it, as that only served to aggravate their angry bruises. They turned their head- ow- and saw Supervillain sitting at their bedside. Their brows were knitted together, and their mouth was drawn in a thin line. Oh, Hero had really screwed up now.

“I, um,” Hero stammered, “listen, if you’re going to kill me- please just make it quick-”

Supervillain’s expression softened. They held out an ice pack to Hero.

“I’m not angry with you, Snow Angel,” he said, “though I am a bit upset you ignored my instructions.”

Hero cautiously took the ice pack and held it up to their swollen eye. They used their powers to make the pack a little colder.

Supervillain grabbed a glass of water and two small pills off the nightstand. Hero eyed the pills warily.

“they’re not drugs,” Supervillain said, “just pain relievers.”

Even if they were drugs, what choice did Hero have? They took the pills and swallowed them with the water.

“I’m afraid your little stunt has forced my hand- I’ve had to increase your security,” Supervillain said, taking the empty glass from Hero, “but before we get into anything else, let me apologize.”

Hero blinked in surprise.

“I gave my men strict orders that you are not to be harmed under any circumstances,” Supervillain said, “the henchman who apprehended you seemed to have forgotten that. You won’t have to worry about them anymore, however. The only thing they’ll be doing now is fertilizing my plants.”

Hero’s face went pale. So now someone was dead because of them.

“Oh, Snow Angel,” Supervillain sighed, “what am I going to do with you?”

“You could start by telling me why the heck you brought me here in the first place!” Hero shouted, “I can tell you right now I’m not going to be your living weapon!”

“Who said you were?” Supervillain asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hero sputtered in disbelief.

“It’s very heavily implied- it’s- it’s- if it’s not that then what for!?”

There was an all-too-convenient knock on the door, and Supervillain was more than happy to take the opportunity to go open it and forget about Hero’s question entirely. A henchman walked in, pushing a cart full of breakfast food inside. Supervillain thanked them; the henchman nodded and left the room. Supervillain sat back down at Hero’s bedside and set a tray from the top shelf of the cart in their lap.

“That isn’t drugged either,” Supervillain said, reading Hero’s face.

Hero’s eyes bounced from the tray of food, to Supervillain, to the food, to Supervillain, and finally back to the food. Hesitantly, they took a very, very small bite… and melted.

“Good, isn’t it?” Supervillain smiled.

“Mhm…” Hero agreed.

Their mouth was in heaven, and before they knew it, the plate was empty.

“Judging by the state of this-” Supervillain held up the cleared plate, “-someone was indeed hungry. First you sleep for almost a whole day, then this. It’s a good thing I bought you when I did, you’ve been neglecting yourself.”

“Wha- I have not been neglecting myself!” Hero protested.

“Hm,” Supervillain hummed, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Supervillain took the tray up, setting it back on the cart and pushing it to the side. They got up, holding their hand out to Hero. Hero eyed it with a puzzled expression.

“Wouldn’t you like to see the grounds?” Supervillain prompted.

Hero blinked. Yes, actually, they very much would. If they knew the layout of Supervillain’s home, the easier it would be to escape it. Hero took Supervillain’s hand and slid on some slippers that had been left out for them. Supervillain smiled and led Hero out of the room.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @morning-star-whump @crotchgoblin69 @books-are-everything @worstcasescenariolullaby @0eggdealer @pan-to-the-head @watermelonrandom @ghosts-room @6vaguebook @aylitgirl @nevermore-ramblings

[reid-whump]

Stubborn/Protective Caretaking Prompts

“Whumpee, where are those scars from?”

“You can take as long as you need, but I’m not leaving. Understand?”

“Leave them alone.”

“Don’t touch them!”

“Do you normally get nightmares like that?”

“I’ve never seen you act like that before…”

“I know how much this hurts, and i need you to understand that it’s okay to be affected by something like this, whumpee.”

“Crying has health benefits, i know, but I hate seeing you like this.”

“There was nothing you could have done to change your situation, don’t you understand that??”

“I don’t recognise you anymore.” “Well neither do i”

“You are never alone as long as I’m with you.”

“This is who i am now!” “Whumpee, it doesn’t have to be…” “but it is anyway!!”

“You can still be a good person whumpee, like you were before.” “I will never be the same person I was before.”

“You know, we used to be inseparable. I miss the way we were.”

[chaotic-orphan]

Would you write another part of June of Doom: Day 19? I loved it!

Continuation of June of doom; day nineteen:

Read part one Here

I am so sorry to whoever asked this, I have had this in my drafts for a while and just didn't have the energy to edit it, but I did now and hope it satisfies ~ enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

“Come on Leader,” Leader heard in a hazed moment of consciousness, hungry, stormy eyes gleaming down at them, “I thought you were more durable than this.”

Leader blinked, eyelids heavy, watching Supervillain lift a hand covered in blood – Leader's blood, they recognised dimly – and run it back through his hair, slicking it back off his face using Leader's blood. He looked feral, unhinged, and Leader wanted to look away. He wanted to move, but his body was as heavy as lead and all he could do was look into those bright, stormy eyes smirking down at him.

Until the darkness swallowed Leader again.

When he woke for the second time he was sitting in a chair. He was vaguely aware that his hands were asleep, tied behind his back, he found out after a jerking, pulling tug. He shouldn’t have moved, he realised in hindsight as the pins and needles set in from being stuck in the same position for too long.

Leader lifted his eyes to get his bearings and saw himself sitting ahead of him. Leader blinked, groggy from blacking out after Supervillain’s welcome. He could see it plain and clear in the mirror, his torso bare just so he could see Supervillain’s handiwork.

Bile crawled thick and hot up his throat. Leader looked away sharply, bending over his torso and only just managing to not get any vomit on himself as he threw up the contents of his stomach. It was grim and vile, but Leader felt a little better after it, spitting for good measure to clear the rancid taste from his mouth in place of mouthwash or toothpaste. He rubbed his chin on his shoulder as he sat up again, dragging reluctant eyes to the full-length mirror in front of him.

Leader only remembered Supervillain carving in two letters to his body, but the bastard must have kept working after Leader passed out.

Leader’s torso still had dried blood sticking to it, but Leader’s eyes stayed on the two jagged letters carved into each shoulder. A crooked S on his right and a ghastly F on his left.

S. Fowl was carved into his body.

A signature.

Supervillain’s promise echoed in Leader’s ears as his eyes lingered on Supervillain’s name: “You I want on display. As a warning and a trophy. A reminder to what happens to those who oppose me.”

Leader wanted to cry. He did, he should have, maybe he would feel better, but he was exhausted. He didn’t know how long he was passed out for, but his body ached from his fight with Supervillain — Fowl — and his struggle when Supervillain dragged him to the medical table.

Leader’s ribs throbbed dully, his jaw hurt from where Fowl’s cane had hit it, a big angry blue bruise the size of Leader’s hand colouring his jaw and neck. Even his throat was raw from all his screaming. He looked like shit, which he could see thanks to Supervillain’s perfectly placed mirror, to remind Leader just how shit he looked. There were lines of purple bags under his eyes, his skin was dry and lacklustre, and his lips were pale except from where the blood from Leader’s nose painted them a faded dark crimson.

The mirror was torture, seeing himself broken and marked and beaten, too afraid to move because his entire body was sore and crying at him to stay as still as he could. Supervillain had cuffed Leader’s hands behind his back, attached them to the chair so his chest stood out in the mirror.

So Supervillain’s name stood out in the mirror, more like. His own personal brand.

Leader didn’t recognise himself in the mirror, this wasn’t – it couldn’t be him. This weak shell of a person who couldn’t fight Supervillain off him. How pathetic. Too powerless to stop himself being branded. His team relied on Leader to lead them; make the plans, do the impossible. All Leader could do at the moment was stare at that fucking name on his chest, written forever…

They’ll die with that scar.

Leader let out a soft sigh.

“Leader…” it was Medic. Leader closed his eyes. He was sitting in a chair in the centre of their circle of cages. The mirror was just a little in front of the door, reflecting the cages back at Leader from behind him.

Medic’s cage to be exact, who was looking at him through the mirror with wide eyes filled with pity. Leader didn’t need their pity; he shouldn’t have let this happen. He should have been ready for Supervillain he should have—

Leader’s hands balled into fists in the cuffs. He couldn’t see that look in Medic’s eyes again.

“Leader… we’re okay,” Medic said softly. Leader sniffed, unaware that he was crying. “Supervillain kept his promise, and he didn’t touch us. He brought us food. Brought us to the bathroom. We have water.”

“In dog bowls,” Rogue muttered in disgust. Leader wasn’t aware that they were all awake. Shame burned hot up Leader’s neck, colouring it red.

“I’m sorry,” Leader whispered. “This is all my fault. None of you would be here if it wasn’t for me, I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Leader,” said Rogue without hesitation. Leader opened his eyes, glancing at Rogue’s cage and saw them sitting at the front bars, expression one of unflinching earnest.

“We’ll get out of here, Leader,” said Medic behind him, determined. “We always do.”

“You just can’t give up hope,” Youngest piped up. “Not with that bastard, Leader. You’re better than him. When we’re finished with him, you can carve your name on his chest.”

“Exactly,” said Medic, a smile in their voice. “You just have to stay strong, Leader. We’re all here with you. Supervillain can try, but he can’t beat us all.”

“How touching,” Supervillain said. Leader’s head whipped back to the door; he didn’t hear it open. Only Supervillain didn’t come in through the door, in the mirror Leader could see him standing behind Leader’s cage, that same horrible smirk in his eyes, face impassive as always, neutral, sending a shiver down Leader’s spine he suppressed as best as he could.

“Do you like your new addition, Leader? I was so proud of it myself, but I thought it was so good it just needed to be shared. You needed to see it for yourself.”

“Kinda weird you kept going after I passed out, Supervillain, I doubt I could have given proper consent.”

Supervillain stared into Leader’s cool eyes through the mirror, the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly, as he said as if it was a completely civil conversation: “Mutilation is hardly ever conducted with consent.”

“You don’t know,” Leader said with an effortless shrug that almost winded him but was glad to see he looked fine in the mirror. “Maybe I was into it.”

“If you like we can go again,” Supervillain purred, walking up behind Leader and putting a hand over his last name. The heat from his hand was enough to make Leader wince, and he cried out as Supervillain dug his fingers into Leader’s chest. “Although… you still seem pretty raw to me, Leader.”

“If you keep doing that, you’re risking infection!” Medic cried, trying to draw Supervillain’s attention away from Leader.

“Oh Medic,” Supervillain cooed, looking at them through the mirror, but Leader didn’t really care what he was doing because as Supervillain spoke, he dug his fingers deeper into Leader’s chest and Leader was screaming. The pain was white hot, blinding and Leader swore he was seeing stars as the world tilted hazily around him.

After what felt like an eternity, Supervillain let go of Leader. Leader doubled over, the handcuffs clanging the only thing keeping Leader in the chair as he gasped in lungfuls of air that his screams had stolen from him.

Nausea climbed Leader’s throat again as Supervillain walked over to Medic’s cage.

“Don’t…” Leader wheezed pathetically, even to his own ears.

“Relax,” Supervillain chided politely, waving away Leader’s concern. Leader could only watch through bleary eyes as Supervillain started unlocking Medic’s cage.

“Don’t… tou—” Leader said but was cut off by Rogue’s menacing:

“Get off them!” Rogue growled, kicking at the bars of their cage. Youngest was quiet, and the silence was a welcome relief to Leader. One Rogue was enough, and Supervillain was brutal.

Supervillain offered a hand to Medic, but Medic stood up on their own and nearly let out a sigh at being able to be vertical for the first time in who knows how long.

“Come now, Medic,” Supervillain scolded, voice playful but behind it was something cold that only promised pain. “Take my hand and I’ll let you look at your dear Leader, hmm? Make sure he doesn’t get an infection.”

Leader swallowed; mouth suddenly dry as Medic took Supervillain’s hand. Supervillain’s fingers closed tightly around Medic’s like a vice and Leader knew something was wrong with the scene, but he couldn’t think of what it was. His brain sluggish and muggy like a swamp Leader’s thoughts were trudging through.

Fuck.

Maybe he did get an infection from Supervillain’s branding.

Supervillain led Medic over to Leader and grabbed a fistful of Leader’s hair yanking his head up to face him. Medic protested, but Supervillain still hadn’t let go of Medic’s hand so all they could do was try and pry Supervillain’s fingers off of them.

“It’s bad manners not to look someone in the eye, Leader.”

“If you want to talk about manners let’s start with your hospitality, Supervillain,” Leader ground out. He just saw the flash of Medic’s exasperated face, before Supervillain’s fist blocked it from view and Leader’s head slammed back, blood dripping from his nose.

“Sorry, Medic, he has a really punchable face,” said Supervillain conversationally, then let go of both Leader and Medic and stepped back. “Whatever you need, Medic, just make sure he won’t die for round two.”

Medic whirled on Supervillain, eyes wide. “Round two?”

“Did I or did I not say that I want Leader on display? He is going to live a long, long life by my side or at my feet, or whatever way I want him. The only reason you’re looking him over, and not another doctor, is merely convenience, Medic, so don’t give me that wide eyed Bambi look when I say I want to hurt him again. Like I said, Leader has a very punchable face.”

“What about us?” Medic demanded, taking a step forward. Leader relaxed back into his chair, craning his neck back to see Supervillain’s face. He was smiling. Like that was exactly what Supervillain wanted them to say.

Wait, Supervillain was smiling?

Leader did a double take and just stared, not believing his eyes.

Supervillain was… Leader didn’t think he knew how to smile, and it looked wrong on his face. Hollow, twisted, hungry and vicious.

That meant nothing good.

The realisation dropped like a stone into Leader’s chest, and he looked over at Youngest and Rogue’s cages, but they were gone. How? Leader didn’t even see—

He was too focused on Medic.

He knew it was too quiet.

“Medic!” Leader cried, shooting to his feet and shouldering Medic out of the way of Supervillain. His head swam but Leader didn’t care as he planted a foot and pivoted the chair’s legs towards Supervillain. They made impact and Leader heard a satisfying oomf from Supervillain as he faced Medic.

Their devil-may-care smile melting off his face as he saw Supervillain's Henchman come up behind Medic, needle in hand. Leader wanted to shout in warning, but the words were too slow.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, and yet too quick to wrap his head around.

Leader shot forward like a bull on instinct, Medic dodging at the last second, before Leader collided with Henchman. The pair toppled to the ground, Leader on top snarling at Henchman below but unable to get themselves back up to defend Medic.

A hand on the back of his chair and Leader was dragged back up, all four legs on the ground and Medic was kicking the needle out of Henchman's hand and stomped on their face with a satisfying crack.

Medic looked back up at Leader, eyes bright from the brawl and then they went to Supervillain behind Leader, and they froze. All blood draining from their face.

“Even two of you is enough to cause this much trouble,” Supervillain said, voice cutting through the room like ice. “I’m going to give you two options Leader,” said Supervillain coolly. Then: “Bambi, be a dear and turn Leader to me, would you?”

Wordlessly, Medic turned Leader’s chair and Leader understood Medic’s silence. Supervillain held a gagged Youngest up, an arm around Youngest’s shoulder and his stupid hidden dagger from his cane at their throat. The same knife he used to carve his name on Leader’s chest, Leader realised. His heart lurched and his stomach churned, fear rooting him to the spot. Youngest’s hands were bound in front of them and there were terrified tears spilling from their eyes.

Leader felt winded again, but when he met Supervillain’s eyes he was filled with a powerless kind of hatred.

“Do I have your attention now?” Supervillain asked, voice cool.

Leader’s throat felt like sandpaper, tongue heavy and dry as he replied with a raspy— “yes.”

“I have come to the conclusion, Leader, that there is no chance of getting you to submit to me while you are surrounded by your teammates. You have too much bravado around them, they encourage you too much. To — what was it you said, Bambi? “You’ll get out of here together, you always do? We’re all here with you. Supervillain can try, but he can’t beat us all.””

Leader could see Medic still from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Youngest, shaking in Supervillain’s grip.

“Fine,” Leader said, licking his lips, trying to add moisture to his mouth but it didn’t do anything to stop the raspiness, “you let them go.”

Supervillain smiled and pressed the knife into Youngest’s throat just enough to draw blood. Medic and Leader lurched forward but were stopped at Supervillain’s soft: “ah-ah-ah. Move and the kid dies on the spot, Medic. Do you want to test how good your medical skills are right now?”

Medic stepped back, shaking with anger and adrenaline, but they stepped back.

Supervillain looked between the pair and the hideous, gruesome light returned to his eyes. “Isn’t this nice, huh? Just a nice easy hostage situation with you two too concerned for Youngest’s safety to think of any witticisms? I could do this all day just to hear that silence.”

“It’s not – it’s not silence if you fill it with the sound of your own voice.”

Supervillain’s eyes narrowed in confusion. He was looking at Leader and Medic and they didn’t speak. Didn’t open their mouths at least, but Medic and Leader were staring at Youngest like kids who just talked back to their parents and were waiting for the punishment to begin.

Supervillain took the knife from Youngest’s throat and gently turned them around to face him, the cloth Henchman had gagged them with now loose around Youngest’s skinny neck. Their eyes had that same spark of defiance that made them want to kill Leader on his bad days. Days when he wasn’t in control.

“I should have expected as much,” said Supervillain, raising his chin, turning his nose up at Youngest’s defiance.

“Leader has corrupted you, Youngest, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you,” Supervillain said, grabbing Youngest by the throat and squeezing slightly. Youngest jerked back, trying and failing to fight Supervillain off. He was twice Youngest’s size, and one hand nearly wrapped all the way around their throat, not applying pressure. Not yet, but Youngest still panicked.

“Just— fucking— let me go—” Youngest cried, struggling to wrench themselves free. Supervillain sighed. With a deft flick of their wrist silver flashed through the air and Youngest gasped, screwing their eyes shut bracing for the worst. The blow never came and just when that thought registered in Youngest’s mind they heard Leader grunt in pain.

“Leader!” Medic cried and Youngest’s eyes were open, staring into Supervillain’s triumphant ones.

“Medic, you move, and Youngest dies.”

“You fucking bastard!” Medic cried. Youngest looked over their shoulder and saw Leader with the knife in his shoulder, just above the clavicle and they couldn’t stop the trembling at seeing what Supervillain did because of them.

“Leader will be fine, as long as you all behave. This was a good lesson to learn before you’re all separated.”

“You said—” Leader breathed, voice strained. “You said you were giving… giving me two options.”

Supervillain smiled.

“Oh. I was. Then your subordinates pissed me off and now I’m not letting any of you go. Especially Bambi and Youngest here, they’re just too fun. Rogue on the other hand, well,” Supervillain’s smile widened at the mix of helpless fury and pain twisting Leader’s features into something close to desperation, something close to submission. “Rogue, I could just slit their throat and leave them in a ditch, and you wouldn’t know any better, Leader, would you?”

Leader’s breath was coming out laboured and ragged. This was too much. This was too much, the pain was too much, and he couldn’t move, he couldn’t fight, he couldn’t talk his way out of this. It felt like everything was slipping, and it was all his fault. If he had predicted the blade in the cane, then none of this would have happened.

The blade that was currently imbedded in his shoulder.

He lost focus for a moment.

A moment too long.

And it got everyone he loved here. Trapped. Just as powerless as Leader was to protect them.

“Leader,” it was Youngest. Their voice so quiet, so lost, looking for what they had to do, because Leader always knew.

Leader swallowed the lump in his throat, shaking his head slowly, voice hoarse. “Don’t act out. Don’t rebel, do whatever Supervillain tells you without question or hesitation—”

“Leader?!” Medic cried, panic colouring their voice as they kneeled in front of Leader, trying to catch his eye. “Leader you can’t just—”

Leader looked at Medic then, his eyes pleading and hard, and Medic swallowed the rest of their sentence. It hurt, it hurt more than anything to see Medic have to accept their fate, fighting back the tears gathering behind their eyes.

Leader spoke before he lost his nerve, he refused to crack in front of Supervillain. He looked at Youngest’s lost expression, like a little kid being told Santa isn’t real and remembered how young they were… then he looked at Medic and his expression softened as he gave the orders to protect them as much as he could. To protect themselves when Leader wasn’t there to do it for them.

“Remember when you want to react or scream or fight, that it won't be you that Supervillain hurts, it will be someone else. This is the best we can do for each other now. We're still a team, we're still stronger together, even when we're apart,” Leader said, confident defiance still emanating from his gaze as he met Supervillain's eyes in a challenge. “Even Supervillain can't stop us looking out for each other. Remember that.”

A corner of Supervillain's lips curled up in a half smirk, surprised at the gall of Leader to look at him with that much cocky assuredness that they won't break in Supervillain's care.

Supervillain would prove him wrong.

“We'll see,” Supervillain hummed, smiling eyes narrowed, locked on Leader's.

Challenge accepted.

Supervillain’s eyes turned to Medic, finally letting Youngest go with a gentle shove backwards. Youngest stumbled a step and regained their footing, glaring at Supervillain.

“You first, Bambi, since you seem to love the drama of it all.”

Medic didn’t say a word. They just glanced at Leader who nodded his head slightly. Medic walked towards Supervillain and willingly gave themselves up. It put a spear of fear through Leader’s heart to see Supervillain put his hands on Medic, but Leader forced himself to be still. To not react. That was what Supervillain wanted, he wasn’t going to give it to him.

“Oh, Youngest?” Supervillain asked, voice deceptively sweet. Youngest didn’t answer. Supervillain didn’t even hesitate to slap Medic across the face, eliciting a shocked gasp from Medic. Leader’s handcuffs rattled and Supervillain’s cruel grey eyes got brighter, and said again: “will we try that again?”

“Yes,” said Youngest.

Supervillain’s face settled into one of neutrality. “Yes what?” he asked, voice as cold as the arctic.

“Yes sir,” Youngest bit out, their voice cracking on sir.

“Be a dear and keep Leader company while I bring Bambi to their new cell, will you?”

Youngest hesitated again, but this time Leader nudged them with his foot and Youngest said again, more demoralised now: “yes sir.”

“Good. Sit by Leader’s leg like a good little dog, I insist,” and Youngest sank to the floor, slumping beside Leader’s chair, bound hands still in front of them. “See, Leader? They can be trained to be civilised. I’ll be back soon.”

Youngest and Leader watched scornfully as Supervillain led Medic out of the room. Watched them disappear from view, powerless to stop it happening. Leader just sat handcuffed to the chair, knife imbedded in his shoulder, Youngest tied up by his side and let out a long, shaky sigh.

He didn’t know how they were going to get out of this, or what they’d have to endure, he just had to believe that they would, because… well, to think anything else would be blasphemous and Leader didn’t think he’d be able to survive if he started going down that rabbit hole.

[whumpshots]

Whump Snippet Saturday #31

Whumpee looks up when caretaker enters the room and scrambles to hide the wrappers and used bandages they just changed. Apparently too late because caretaker crosses their arms before their chest.

They don't seem angry, despite the look on their face, but whumpee swallows hard and takes a step backwards to ensure there is enough distance between the two of them.

"I won't scream at you," they say and sigh. "I never do. But I do want to know where you're injured." Whumpee averts their eyes and hugs their own torso, trying to keep their fight or flight response at bay.

"You don't need to tell me what happened. I just want to see if you're alright," caretaker adds with a smile of which whumpee only catches a glimpse. They are so different from whumper, but it still takes so much to trust them.

Whumpee takes a tiny step forward and caretaker waits a few seconds to catch up with them. They don't touch them immediately, ask where it hurts and if they can take a look. A few seconds pass until whumpee nods their okay and gets their wounds checked.

[darkthingshappen]

Merry Whump of May, Day 10

@themerrywhumpofmay

Day Ten - “Hit the hay.”

Key

Forgetting

Warehouse     

Okay, seriously y'all. This prompt wrote it self. I have collaborated with the amazing @sparrowsage (Part of my always supportive Whumperful Crew) for another crossover with his enthralling The Warehouse series and my Brother's Keeper series. As we saw during Whumptober, Ben and Jake did a stint at the warehouse and met Sparrow where they spent a most unfortunate evening together. If you'd like to read that, you can find it here. Also, if you're interested in The Warehouse, here's a link to his masterlist. This takes place after Ben and Jake's second captivity and is part of a recovery arc.

As always, I'd like to thank the rest of my whumperful crew: @quietly-by-myself @whumpcereal and @oddsconvert for the wonderful beta job she gave this tonight.

Warnings: aftermath of torture, aftermath of noncon, aftermath of captivity.

Even after spending a few weeks in here, Sparrow couldn’t help but still find this place foreign to him. There were small bits and pieces he still remembered, barely remembered, from when he was here months and months beforehand, like how the staff members in the light blue scrubs weren’t the doctors, more like assistants. He couldn’t remember the proper word for them. He had been here at the hospital for a few weeks now, and somehow his stay was going better than it did the first time. That didn’t mean that there weren’t challenges. The only thing that made it easier on him this time was that he was around a few people he knew he could trust. 

Alex, his doctor (at least that’s what Sparrow believed the word was), had told him that he was finally allowed to walk around the floor after the few weeks of healing that prevented him from doing much of anything. He hadn’t been allowed out of bed much, only to shower and use the washroom. Any other time, he had to have someone with him, pushing him around in a wheelchair. While he did miss the company of his friends, now that he was free once more, the growing need to have some space became more apparent to him. 

The hallways were dimmed, since it was a fair bit into the evening, but despite this, Sparrow wasn’t scared. He was just exploring, looking into rooms that had open doors or uncovered windows, observing the environment he was in. So long as he didn’t go into any of the rooms, no one would say anything or approach him. It felt strange to him, being able to do things of his own free will again. He had almost forgotten what it felt like, almost leaned too far into what was being done and asked of him to the point where he lost any kind of will. But he was safe now, for good. The Warehouse had been shut down since the raid. Damon was arrested, whatever that meant, but all he knew was that Damon couldn’t get to him anymore. 

Sparrow played with his fingers while he walked, glancing into a dimly lit room with only the patient in it as he had done with all the other rooms he had passed.But as he carried on, he nearly tripped over his own feet as he scrambled backwards to get a better look at the person laying in the hospital bed.

He couldn’t help but let his eyes widen as it finally registered; the patient in the bed was Jake Adkins. There were different wires attached to his body that connected to different machines and a tube down his throat. It took a lot of willpower for Sparrow not to move from the doorway to try and get the tube out, convinced it was placed there to hurt him. But it wasn’t there to hurt him; Sparrow had to remind himself that this place wasn’t like the Warehouse. If it was there, it was being used to help Jake. 

So instead, he just stood in the doorway, watching Jake sleep. The steady beeping from the monitors in his room slowly faded as Sparrow’s thoughts swarmed around in his head. 

How was Jake here? At this hospital? Volkov never took his captives to hospitals and they were nowhere near the island. 

Then it dawned on him; if Jake was here, where the hell was Ben? He couldn’t stop the panic beginning to well up inside him that Ben wasn’t safe, or that Volkov and Dmitri were here for some twisted reason, that he himself wasn’t safe. 

Unconsciously, Sparrow leaned against the doorframe to keep himself upright, his breathing already starting to increase before he heard footsteps coming from his left. Sparrow’s head snapped to the side to see who it was, fearing it was one of his old captors. His entire body was tense, but he froze when he saw who it really was. It was Ben. 

His hands were bandaged from the nails that Volkov had put through them, but he looked like he was healing. There was more color in his face than there had been over those few days when he and his brother were at the facility. He still bore the myriad of bruises, scrapes and cuts from their fresh rescue, but at least he was alive. 

“Hey, who are… Sparrow?” It took a moment for the younger brother to register who was in front of him and it left him standing in place, frozen, just as Sparrow was. After a moment, Ben was able to break out of his surprised stare, not expecting to see him. Ever again.

“I.. I didn’t… how are you here?  How did you find us?”  Ben stopped, not wanting to pester Sparrow with the thousands of questions forming in his head. 

Ben frowned when he looked in at his brother’s too still form laying in the bed. Even though they had both made it out, had gotten rescued, he still felt guilty at the fact that he was awake and walking while Jake was unconscious and unable to even stand. 

He looked back up tentatively at Sparrow.  “I… I need to sit down, I’m… I’m not very strong at the moment and I get winded kinda easily.  Wanna join me?”  Ben motioned to the chairs that were around Jake’s bed.  

The question managed to snap Sparrow out of his frozen state, nodding his head after a moment. He didn’t know what to say; there were so many things he wanted to tell him but if he tried to grab hold of something in his head to start with, it vanished. He followed Ben into Jake's room, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs before continuing to fiddle with his fingers in his lap. His eyes kept wandering to Jake and how he had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t supposed to touch the machines, and that the tube in Jake’s throat wasn’t hurting him. 

They sat in silence for a long while, just the beeping of the monitors between them.  Ben’s eyes rarely left his brother, as if he were counting his breaths.  

“He’s dead,” Ben quietly broke the silence.  They both knew who he was talking about. 

Sparrow’s head spun in Ben’s direction, the words snatching his attention. His eyes lingering on Ben’s for a brief moment before he averted his gaze. It was still hard for him to make eye contact with anyone for more than a second. It probably always would be. 

Sparrow could hardly believe his ears. He’s dead, that madman is actually dead. But it had to be true. How else would they be here if he wasn’t? At least that put some of his fears to rest. Sparrow turned his head back towards Jake, taking in a silent deep breath before letting it out slowly. 

“This is where I was brought the first time,” Sparrow said, just as quietly. “This is where I met Ale- Dr. Sharpe. A-and Felix. When they raided the Warehouse, they brought me back here.” Sparrow pulled his legs up onto the chair, hugging his knees close to his chest. “It’s familiar, to say the least. A good familiar.” He looked down at his wrist, eying his hospital bracelet. He still had a bit to go before he was allowed to go back with Felix, but that was alright. He didn’t feel ready to leave here yet, especially now. 

He glanced back at Ben, looking him over again. “Why are you guys here?” Sparrow hadn’t put much thought into where the two brothers would have lived before their captivity. Granted, he hardly knew the world around him, barely even knowing the name of the town he called home, but he didn’t think out of the entire world, Ben and Jake would end up in the same hospital when the island was so far away. 

“Jake… we… we um… we needed a level one trauma center, and mom and dad wanted him close… close to home.  I… I think I was here before too.  I… I don’t remember much from when I first came home, but… But I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks before mom thought I would do better at home.  I…” Ben shrugged. “ I don’t remember much from then.  I remember my mom visiting.  I remember them being there when they flew me home, but it’s all like flashes.  I… I was… not in a good place, mentally that first time.  I’m better now though.  D-Dr. Sharpe you said… blond guy, r-really tall?  S-s-sorry.  I st-stutter when I get nervous.”

Sparrow listened intently as Ben spoke, easily seeing he was wracked with nerves, disregarding the stutter entirely. While it had been a survival tactic, even now he was overly observant and could find telltale points in how someone was feeling. When Ben mentioned Alex, Sparrow’s face lit up a bit. 

“Y-yeah. He’s the one who helped me when I got here the first time, and was waiting for me when I got here a few weeks ago.” Sparrow’s body relaxed a bit; Alex had helped him through so much and Sparrow trusted him with his life. “He’s good with me. He never overly pushed me or did anything to hurt me. He kept me safe while I was here and was the first person I met outside of that fucking place that showed me any kind of care.” 

Sparrow looked back at Ben after a moment, noticing that he still seemed on edge a bit, more so than he should be. “He won’t hurt you, or your brother. I promise.” 

“He… He’s safe?  He asked a lot of questions… my mom tried to an-answer some.  But… but I know there was stuff I didn’t want to s-say with her there.  The past few months… I mean, you know.  Dr. Sharpe is really tall… but… but he’s safe?”

Sparrow nodded, a soft smile on his face. “He’s safe.” He took a moment to take in another deep breath, recalling old memories. They were a bit faded, though a lot of his memories from when he was last here were. Entering back into that hellhole had practically erased everything he had learned, at least on a conscious level. 

“I was scared of him too, when I first met him,” Sparrow admitted. “Though, I was scared of everyone. Everything was so….new and scary, I didn’t know what was going on. I thought everyone here was going to do the same thing the Keeper’s did. But Alex-Dr. Sharpe worked with me. He took things at my pace and respected my wishes.” 

Sparrow looked back over at Jake for a moment before turning his gaze to the bed sheets as he continued, “I honestly don’t think I would have left the hospital if it wasn’t for him. He helped me so much in ways I never thought were possible, even gave me a way to listen to books since I uhm, since I can’t uh, can’t read.” It was a thing he was still embarrassed about, but that small gesture from Alex had helped him cope, it gave him something to focus on and think about that wasn’t related to anything he had gone through. 

“You can’t read?  H-how long did… were you there?”  Ben’s eyebrows knit together in concern.  Ben couldn’t imagine not being able to read.  Books and knowledge had always been such a big part of his life.  He thought of all those horrible lonely nights trapped in that cage where he could do nothing to ease the pain and horrors.  One of the only things that had kept him sane had been to try and remember the stories from the books he’d read.  His favorite characters.  He had always been terrible at art, but he remembered trying to draw them in the dust of his cage sometimes and then rubbing it out before anyone could see.  No books, no stories.  Ben wasn’t sure he could have survived.  He looked at Sparrow with new admiration.  

Sparrow’s face blushed a bit at the question out of embarrassment, but even so, he knew that Ben meant no ill intention. It took him a moment or two to answer the second question, unconsciously hugging his legs closer to his chest. “I think it was around twenty-one years? I never knew anything different from that place, and in there, why teach a pet a skill they’d never need?” He was determined to get better at it though. Sparrow hoped that he would be able to learn how to read well so he could enjoy the comfort of books without having to struggle with them. 

“Twenty-one years!  How the fuck did you survive?” Ben kept his voice quiet, but he was nonplussed.  “I barely made it fourteen months.  Geez!  I… I’m impressed.  I would have died long before that.  Just given up.  You’re one hell of a s-survivor.”  Ben swallowed and brushed his floppy hair out of his face.  “A-an-and D-D-D… your Keeper?”

Sparrow couldn’t help but chuckle at Ben’s reaction. Before he had escaped, the Warehouse had been all that he knew. There were still so many things he didn’t know about or of and even the thought of that made Sparrow anxious, but he knew that in time, he’d learn. At his own pace. 

“It’s all I ever knew. I grew up there, I thought that’s how the world worked; people getting treated like shit and having to fight to survive. All I ever wanted was to be treated like an equal, to be treated like a normal person, like how the Keeper’s treated each other. When I escaped the first time, I finally started to learn that that’s not how things are supposed to be, which only made going back that much harder.”

Ben nodded knowingly as Sparrow spoke.  Being dragged back to captivity was so much worse.  

At the mention of Damon, Sparrow couldn’t help but tense. The events of the raid were still painfully fresh in his mind and it was hard to think about them, let alone talk about it, but he had come to learn that talking about things helped. 

“The Warehouse got shut down. There was a huge raid, so many people died. He…. he tried to escape with me when they came. One of them, I think his name was Vaughn? He managed to find us before Damon could escape. I-It’s hard to remember things clearly, but Vaughn came and visited me here after things were taken care of. He told me that Damon had been arrested, whatever that means, and that he wouldn’t be able to hurt me again. That he could never find me now that he was taken care of. He’s not dead, but I’m hoping that what he said was true, that I don’t have to be afraid of him anymore.” 

At the mention of Agent Vaughn’s name, it was Ben’s turn to brighten.  “If Vaughn told you that you were s-safe and he couldn’t get to you a-again, then it’s true.  I’ve never met a man more t-true to his w–w-word.”  Ben smiled at Sparrow.  He hadn’t smiled much, but putting the connection together that Vaughn had helped rescue Sparrow helped.  It’s like a little part of this messed up world that had finally come right.  The fucking Warehouse was no more.  Like Volkov’s holding pens were no more.  

A smile began to spread across Sparrow's face as Ben reassured him about Vaughn. There were so many things he didn’t know about Ben and his brother, but he hoped that they could keep in touch. They were too important to let go after all this time. 

“I would say that I want to forget, but I don’t think I do.  And it doesn’t matter because I can’t.  I… I think I want to try and help people.  People like us.  I-I used to want to b-be a s-scien-tist, but I don’t know if that’s st-still my p-path.”  Ben was quiet and reflective as he talked.  The last few years had upended his whole life like he’d never thought it could.  But hopefully this was all finally over.  Hopefully.  

Sparrow nodded at Ben’s words, liking the idea. Sparrow had no idea what he wanted to do since the only goal he had had been achieved; to be free. It was something he didn’t think was possible, yet here he was. 

As Sparrow was about to add onto the conversation, there was a soft knock at the door. Both of their heads turned to the source of the sound, both being a bit on guard, but Sparrow relaxed as soon as he realized it was only Alex. 

“I was wondering where you had gone off to, Sparrow,” he commented lightly. Alex looked to Ben, giving him a soft smile. “I’m glad you found someone to talk to though.” 

Sparrow glanced at Ben, giving him a reassuring nod that it was okay. He knew Ben wouldn’t trust Alex one hundred percent right off the hop, he hadn’t either, but he knew he could help start the process. “You said I could finally get up and walk on my own earlier, so I did.” 

Alex chuckled softly, “I did indeed tell you that you could.” He put his hands in his coat pockets, leaning a bit on the door. “I hate to end things early for you and your friend, but it’s getting late and I think it’s best that you both hit the hay. There will be plenty of other times when you two can talk when there’s more daylight.” 

At Alex’s words, Sparrow couldn’t help but look confused. What did that even mean, ‘hit the hay’? What even is hay? Sparrow shook his head slightly to try and get rid of the confusion, but he knew Alex was right. It was getting late, he could tell by how dark it was outside through the windows. He’d have to come back tomorrow if Ben was up for it. 

Ben smirked at Sparrow’s obvious confusion over certain colloquialisms.  Despite his apparent years of captivity, no, he wanted to call it what it was, his enslavement, there was something precious and childlike in Sparrow.  Not an innocence, per se, but a… naivete to his demeanor.  Ben liked it.  He liked Sparrow.  There was something fierce and loyal in him that Ben now believed was rare in the world but worthy and needed.  This was especially true after all the cruelty and lack of humanity that Ben had endured during his time in captivity.  He reached his hand up and unconsciously touched the horrible slave tattoo that he still bore on his throat.  This time, that would be the first to go.  

Sparrow started to stand from his chair before he finally remembered something. Something that had happened so long ago but had been important to him the last time he had been able to speak to Ben. He turned and looked at Ben with  an excited expression. “Maybe at some point soon I can introduce you to the people who helped me stay fighting while we were there. I’m sure they’d be happy to meet you and your brother. And hey, maybe you could introduce me to your fiance. I’m sure she’s really glad to have you home.”

“I’d like that. My parents will be around tomorrow if you want to meet them.  And they usually bring Zoe with them, if she’s not already here.  She had her own doctor appointment today, which is why she’s not here.  But she’d love to meet you.  Jake is… The doctor’s say it may be a while because his body is repairing itself and needs extensive rest.  They aren’t sure if he’ll be able to walk yet.  Either way , he’s going to need massive amounts of physical therapy, so I’ll be around.  I’ll need some myself for my hands and things, but the nerve damage is already done.”  

Ben shrugged as if to say it is what it is, but the uncertainty of what he was going to do with his life going forward unnerved him because before all this he’d been so certain.  But that was a problem for another day.  

“It was really great to see you, Sparrow.  I’m glad you got out.  No one deserves what happened in that warehouse.”

Sparrow nodded at the invitation, ignoring the anxiety of meeting new people. That night that he had comforted Ben, hearing about the people that were waiting for him and his brothers return, Sparrow knew that at some point, if he were to ever get out, he’d want to meet them, to let them know that Ben was ok. 

“It was good to see you too, Ben,” he said finally, his excited grin softening to a warm smile. “I’m glad you two got out too, and that you’ll never return to any of that. No one deserves what happened to us or anything in between.” 

With that, Sparrow gave Ben one last smile before he headed for the door, giving Alex a small, soft smile before exiting the room, Alex following shortly after. 

It was surreal, being able to see Ben and Jake again. Like Henley, Sparrow didn’t think he’d ever see these people again, but it hadn’t kept him from thinking about them every day, hoping and wishing they were ok and staying strong. It was almost like the whole ordeal, the entirety of it all, was a big lock, and he had only just managed to find the right key to unlock everything he needed to continue forward. 

Tagging List: @i-can-even-burn-salad @peachy-panic @deluxewhump @arwenadreamer @whumpcereal @melancholy-in-the-morning @dont-touch-my-soup @whumpsday @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @oddsconvert @melennui @susiequaz12 @morning-star-whump @crystalquartzwhump @whump-and-other-things @mylifeisonthebookshelf @reflected-pain @hold-him-down @quietshae @quietly-by-myself @there-will-always-be-bloodblood @whumping-seven-days-a-week @hiding-in-the-shadows (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this) 

Sparrow's Tags:

@mannerofwhump @honey-is-mesi @painful-pooch @whumperfully @hiding-in-the-shadows @flowersarefreetherapy @goronska

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whumptober 4: “you’re still alive in my head” + 21: spirit possession

CW: Captivity, ghost caretaker

“We need to get out. This is going to kill you.”

Like it killed me went unsaid. They both knew it was true, but there was no point in reliving that right now.

“But…” Whumpee hesitated. However afraid they were of staying here, they held a greater fear for how Whumper would respond to an escape attempt.

“I’ve been watching for an opportunity, remember? This is our best one yet.”

“Okay,” Whumpee said decisively, steeling their nerves. “You’ll come with me right?”

“Of course. I’m always with you,” Caretaker promised.

“Good. I…really don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m already dead, Whumpee.”

Whumpee flinched at the blunt reminder. “You’re still alive in my head,” they whispered, quickly checking for any signs of Whumper before moving into the hallway. “Or something close enough, at least. Still here. Still conscious.”

“I guess that’s true,” Caretaker answered.

For a few moments, neither spoke. The only sound was Whumpee’s heartbeat pulsing in their ears, loud and fast with fear.

“What are we going to do after this, Whumpee? I can’t go back to my life without a body, and you’ll look insane if you keep talking to a voice in your head.”

“Let’s worry about actually getting out first.”

“Fair enough.”

They rounded the last corner. No Whumper.

Freedom was within reach.

[whumpsday]

K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #1

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, torture, broken bones, whumper turned whumpee, referenced starvation, sadistic whumper

@whumptober Day 1 (Alt): Aftermath of Failure / Playing Cards / Broken

-

"Looks like you're out, leech." The hunter grinned as he revealed his hand, obviously pleased with the outcome. “You know what that means.”

Kane’s fingers scrunched up where they rested on his thighs while the other hunters snickered, like he could protect them if he just hid them well enough.

He stared down at his losing cards with growing dread. “Yes, sir.”

The hunter held out his hand. Kane forced himself to uncurl his right, laying it in the hunter’s. His own deficiencies were even sharper there: his hand was bony from starvation, like his skin was vacuum-sealed around his bones. The hunter’s hand was thick and strong, his job physical and his access to nutritious food unrestricted. His own trembled slightly, while the hunter’s stayed steady and sure in his cruelty.

It didn’t take much. The malnutrition had left his bones brittle enough that all it took was the hunter bending his pinkie finger the wrong way until– 

Snap.

Kane let out a yelp, his finger throbbing with pain. It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, not by a long shot. But it still hurt horribly, and would take weeks to heal completely in his state.

“There you go.” The hunter patted his hand–an extra dose of pain jolting through him at the contact. “Now, let’s get you dealt back in. You’ve got nine fingers left, after all. Who knows, maybe you’ll even win yourself a rest.”

“Yes, s-sir,” Kane replied, handing over his cards. He wished so badly that he could go back, play cards with his human again. Those had been some of the highlights for both of them, he could tell. The human always liked playing games. Kane may have made his life hell in many other ways, but at the very least, he never punished the human for winning or losing games. It was just… nice.

But he didn’t get to have nice things anymore.