#cult setting

[scratchandplaster]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 6 - "You lied to me"

CW: parental Whumper, hypnosis, emotional manipulation, interrogation, conditioning

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・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"There are still plenty of thoughts inside your head, so let's get them in order."

Shepard was intently focused on his son. Above now dried tear tracks, his unblinking attention denied Ben to be unguarded for even one second, whilst his assertive but nevertheless mellow tone carried him along a carved-out path.

Possessive strokes down his back dragged him further: "Down, just down, always deeper down. We can't choose our sorrows, but you can choose to let them go for a moment, to let me help forget them. Follow my lead."

In and out, it was impossible to resist the pace he was taught so well.

"I would count you down, but you know all my old tricks."

Shepard was not naive, he had to be extremely lucky that his charade still worked after all these months Reuben spent on his own, poisoning his mind and spirit out in the world. That he still responded obediently to the suggestions of the past was a goddamn miracle. One he would gladly use to its full potential.

"Remember all the times we did this before," Shepard repeated for good measure. So many, many times, half of which Ben couldn't even recall. Today was far from the first instance he helped to quiet his ward's nettled thoughts.

It was about time to rectify old lies.

"You always knew where Lukas was, though we both know you claimed otherwise," Shepard sighed low, "Will you tell me now?"

The soft face on his shoulder began to stir back to wakefulness, his bottom lip scrunched up in painful guilt. Rough start.

"Shh, forget that, it was a stupid question. You did nothing wrong." Comforting reassurance and soft circles drawn onto his temples helped to smooth out any risen qualm. "I know it's difficult for you to stay alert during this state, so I'm keeping this easy for us. Just Yes or No from now on, you don't even have to say a word."

Reuben showed himself more agreeable and leaned back against him.

"Is Lukas doing well?"

A small nod. Good.

"Is he eating enough? You know how he always skips breakfast."

Again, Ben nodded against the rough wool of Shepard's sweater while the same tediously tried to keep this interview on track: he could embrace his success later, when both of his sons were near him again. However, the abandoned father was ready to reap the fruits of his endeavor.

"Do you want to tell me where he is?"

Ben quickly shook his head. No, not yet.

"Mhh, I understand."

It felt horrible how easy it was to make him tell the truth, but Shepard had no interest nor intention to question his parenting methods at the moment. He knew exactly what limits confined them: he couldn't make Reuben do or forget anything he didn't want to, at least if he failed to be persuasive enough.

Shepard's boy was easy to read and just as simple as he was loyal to both his brother and father. But not in equal parts, Shepard was at a certain disadvantage he ought to correct. 

Children like them were too inept for the world outside the settlement, so it was no wonder Reuben merely crumpled under the first selfless act of affection in a long time. If his forgiveness was not given freely, Shepherd could just rip it from his fragile heart. For both their peace of mind, nothing else.

"You know how much I love you, both of you."

The shake of Ben's head said it all. It hadn't even been a question, but the blunt answer pricked nonetheless.

"Oh, well, I love you more than the world. I did everything to get you back!" Shepard mused softly, "If not me, what about the rest of our family?"

Kind memories of the people who waited for him outside rinsed Ben of any stray thoughts and drifted with him into the depths. He never wanted to hurt any of them with his decisions. 

"Did you miss us?"

Ben affirmed this shyly, grabbing a corner of Shepard's sweater.

"You are safe here, right?"

A nod.

"You are safe with me."

At the claim, Ben's head rolled around aimlessly, as if he was trying to stir awake again. Shepard tutted; this was a tricky one.

"You are here with me and the others, all together. We watch out for each other, we keep each other secure."

Yes, this made sense. Through the pleasant, thick fog that filled his head, Ben knew it to be sincere.

"Here, you are safe. With us, you are safe."

Safe...together. He couldn't possibly disagree with these smooth words.

"You are safe and loved by us all, we were awaiting your return. Always putting an extra plate on the dinner table for when you decide to come back." 

Shepard had to endure countless days of waiting before accepting that his youngest would stay gone. He had searched for him for so long it made him sick with fear, not knowing if his sons were hurt or fraternizing with God knows what kind of people. Yet, he didn't want for Reuben to realize the damage he had caused, not when he was so calm and open for the right input. 

"And today our wishes were granted!"

Warmth, safety, love. Encased by these sensations, Ben's mind caught itself slipping into easy relaxation once again.

"Can you say it for me, can you tell me that you're safe and loved?"

"'m safe and loved," he slurred quietly against the wool. It felt good to be here in his dad's arms, it felt right.

"That's my boy, I knew we could stand above the past." 

Shepard's sweet promises hugged his exhausted soul, he was too tired of running, adapting, changing. They tried to teach Ben what to say and what to hide out there, but the only thing he understood was to never be himself; another truth nobody could ever tell his brother. He remembered exactly how angry and disappointed Luke loved to get with him.

Cupping his face carefully, Shepard pushed him to sit straight up: "Open your eyes."

With a wide, empty stare but not awake in the slightest, Ben continued to sway back and forth. He was unsure what Dad wanted from him and too dizzy to care, silently begging to be allowed back into the stream of soft, dark dreaminess. Tears collected at the corners of his eyes, but Shepard was far from done with him: "Ben, tell me what you are when you're with us."

"I'm safe and I'm loved," tumbled from his lips without thinking twice about it.

"Yes, you are." Relief washed over Ben like a tsunami: he didn't do anything wrong after all, nobody hated him here.

"Now close these heavy eyes and relax."

As he sagged back down, the inward pull doubled its force. He felt that the soap bubble his brain had become threatened to pop. Too much to focus on, nothing to think about, clutching onto the inner peace Dad had so kindly given him. 

"We all love you so much. Missing is too weak a word to explain how desperately we wanted you back. You are always wanted here." 

Every word was law.

Shepard should feel dirty at using Reuben's obvious weaknesses so bluntly against him, but not today. Today they would celebrate his return and plan the one they enjoyed as soon as the other prodigal son decided to come home. A selfish sting inside Shepard's heart forced the next question out: "Did you miss me?"

A final nod made tears run down Ben's face. Shepard hugged him tighter, as if he never intended to let go again:

"I missed you too, starshine, it's going to be alright. Everything falls into place when we are together."

Numb with joy, Ben felt too tired to hold on to the present any longer, a problem his father gladly helped him with: "Sleep now, sleep and let my words manifest as truth in your mind."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

[whumpshaped]

tw religous whump, cult setting, implied torture, captivity, conditioning

Whumpee lay on the cold ground in their cell, staring into the darkness. There was nothing to do, nobody to talk to, and barely any thoughts left in their head. It was just the buzzing of static, along with mantras and prayers drilled into them.

It wasn't their god. It wasn't. It was a cruel mockery of a benevolent master, made bloodthirsty and unforgiving, and Whumpee would never bow down to worship such a thing; even if they kept them in the cell for years, even if they kept them there forever, they wouldn't yield.

How foolish.

How utterly, unbelievably foolish. As if any absent god could've given Whumpee the strength to withstand vicious torture day after day. It didn't matter whether it was their own or their tormentors' god who was real, because their tormentors were, and Whumpee found little energy to concern themself with hypotheticals and the divine in the face of immediate danger.

When they were finally let out of the cell and allowed fresh air and sunlight, the only words on their treacherous lips were the ones they'd been taught while they were drowned and whipped; but they'd never worship again, not earnestly. The only god in their eyes was the person bringing them water every day. The only one who had showed them mercy.

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou @whump-kitty

[ratking-roleplays]

I hiss at the shallow cut, but nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of a blade going through bone.

I don't scream. I can't, it gets trapped in my throat. I can't even pull away with you holding my hand like that. Not for a lack of trying.

My leg, my shoulder, now my hand. I'm not doing too great. Everything hurts, and I absolutely detest the way I'm crying in front of you.

"See, that wasn't so bad, now was it Junebug?" I teased, some sadistic urge curling in my gut as you sniffled. I needed to wring you dry of all your blood and make you scream and beg and-

But I wouldn't. I waited until enough blood had drained, and then I helped you to your feet, half-carrying you to another, larger shed. This one actually had a bloodstained mattress in the corner, which I helped you onto. This time, I didn't bother trying to tie you down, or even lock the door. I doubt you'd make it that far if you did try to run, although that would be entertaining, and certainly give me reason to punish you.

[sincerely-sofie]

Guess what fandom I’ve been gradually succumbing to, friends.

[thegreendiamondart]

The eepy beansssss

I need these two to be cuddly before I throw trauma their way :)

[aubeezz]

I like to think he feels a little regret for u know, tearing his eyes out

[tow-bees]

Fishing trip with death god/dad and death god/dad’s usurper/new death god after being imprisoned for like a thousand years in the land of the dead or something

[caramelldansenu]

[lambouillet]

Leader

[scratchandplaster]

Tales of Arcadia - Lost

A little recapture!AU for your palate. Have you ever wondered what Shepard had planned to happen in the first chapter? Well, the more you know...

CW: stalking, manipulation, kidnapping, noncon drugging

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The bass nearly deafened all other noise surrounding them. Horrible, just horrible, Lukas wished they rather had stayed at home. But no. No, Ben practically begged to go out into the screaming masses and work off his little spring fever while electronic beats assaulted Lukas' eardrums from every direction. 

The redhead Ben so desperately tried to impress, surprisingly charmed by this huge klutz of a brother, only laughed sweetly.

Good for him, Lukas thought, and hoped Ben would remember that he was allowed one single drink tonight. 

The last thing I need is-

Someone bumped against his shoulder from behind, nearly throwing Lukas to the ground. As quickly as they appeared, the person was swallowed up by the sea of colorful dancing shapes.

-him getting alcohol poisoning.

Squinting through the flashing lights, his lovestruck brother was visible to everyone as his companion stepped closer to dance, if this spastic twitching could even be called that.

Everything was too loud, too embarrassing - Lukas could only suffer through this farce in short laps. Not a flicker of patience in sight, he quickly gave his roommate's shoulder a few hard slaps, guiding the attention away from this doomed mating dance: "I'm going to get some air."

"Huh?" Avery screamed, too amused or disinterested to care.

Lukas just shrugged and squeezed through the mass towards the exit, suffering unknown skin rubbing against his, letting sweat soak into his clothes. Quickly swallowing down his urge to gag, he finally rushed through the side door, and took in a few gulps of the crisp night air.

Days ago, they had agreed for Ben to try his luck on campus or a local bar, but Avery - who else - brought up the bright idea to drag them to a club in the back of beyond.

The damp touches still clung to him, as did the drums inside his ears. He should have stayed home. No matter how unsuccessful Ben's efforts were tonight, in the future he was free to run around town on his own.

Walking through the parking lot, step by step away from the packed circus, Lukas passed more cars than people. The bushes separating concrete from the short piece of woodland next to the industrial district invited him with the dark peace he needed so badly.

Fingers twisting into each other with painful pressure, he simply hummed, a sound to drown out all others. He rubbed his shirt across every inch touched by others, friction cleansing him from the tacky prickling on his skin. With every step away from the building, breathing came naturally to him again.

The night was cold, and now, Lukas was too.

Great. Thank you, guys. 

How long would it all take? The flirting and the chatting and the groping and whatever else they were here for; his insistence on keeping Avery and Ben apart came back to bite him in the ass.

Nobody was left to blame but himself.

I want to go home. The hum in his throat turned into annoyed hissing. The sooner, the better.

Busy walking circles on the forest floor and holding any remaining warmth inside him, Lukas suddenly felt a jacket drape over his shoulders from behind. He jumped a little, then huffed. Sometimes Avery couldn't help but act like a mother hen, despite his dismissive way.

"I'm fine, you could've stayed inside." 

Silence. Lukas awkwardly hoped that his nagging didn't ruin Avery's mood: "Can we go home soon?"

"If you like to," an all-too familiar voice responded.

The air had shifted in a heartbeat, and with a chill on his skin no longer caused by the temperature, Lukas slowly turned around to meet his visitor. In the shine of a lonely streetlight, his father studied him intently. 

Too close for comfort, yet still a good distance away from being eye to eye...

Lukas stumbled back. In his head, hundreds of questions with no answers in sight merged into an unstoppable maelstrom of dread that threatened to let him freeze up.

Despite the state of shock, Shepard didn't come closer. His son's troubled expression caught him like a slap to the face.

"What are you doing here?" Lukas finally gasped.

"Oh, you know my love for..." The old man squinted at the sign leading lost visitors back to the club, "...electronic dubstep."

No quips could lighten his mood at all, the demand getting even louder: "What do you want?"

"Two years, Luke. After two years, that's the first thing you ask me?"

Ben, that fucking idiot; who else could have brought him here? The older brother cursed himself and everyone around for not being careful enough. All these extra steps I took, and what for?

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Shepard mused, strangely sorrowful, "I only want to talk."

"I have nothing to say." The day for his vindication had arrived, yet any words of defense were caught in the throat of the prodigal son. As if he owed that man anything! 

What he owed himself was quickly realized: taking big steps back to reach the parking lot, Lukas squeezed through rows of cars. The entrance to the club still felt miles away. Avery; he needed to get back inside so Avery could get this whole chaos settled.

"Why?" his father called out behind him and pursued, "Please, tell me why."

"Do you really want to do this right now?" 

"What happened? Did I do something wrong?"

If he did- 

Shock turned into rage quicker than Lukas could have ever expected from himself: "Are you fucking serious, where do I even start?"

"Just start, I'm listening."

"First of all," Lukas whipped around and came to an indignant halt, "you look insane."

He had always hated the creepy farmer look that hid the man who once was the center of his whole world, the specifically procured aesthetic for everyone who had joined them on their homestead.

His father sheepishly peeked down to his jeans and flannel; sure, it had been a rough couple of months, maybe he let himself go a bit more than usual...

All other reasons Lukas had neatly listed in his head bubbled out of him in a fountain set free:

"Second of all, I hate staying with these screwed-up hippies. I hate living on a field, I hate that whole thing you opened up my home to, ripping these idiots off for their last cents."

"Who gets ripped off?" Either he played dumb, or started to buy his own bullshit. No matter which way, Shepard hadn't changed a bit.

"Everyone who sets a foot on there, everyone who buys only one of your words, you fucking liar."

"Language, dear." Shepard watched him mumble and hiss in response, pacing on the spot, and wondered since when his boy had concerns for strangers. "They are happy."

"Exactly," he huffed, "that's the worst thing about it!"

"So how am I ripping them off then?"

Luke kicked a stone against a truck's tire, so hard it ricocheted off to skim a layer of varnish on the unlucky car next to it.

"You loved our remote living. No school, little traffic-"

"Yeah, when I was three years old!" Lukas yelled and threw his hand up in frustration. Like always, he preached common sense to a wall. "I'm not anymore, as you can see and as I've told you many, many times. But somehow you still don't get it, not even right now."

"I'm sorry, Luke, I don't want to argue with you." Shepard looked around and sighed, like he didn't just ask for this thorough lecture, hoping to shift the discussion in a more friendly direction: "How's Ben doing?"

Fantastic. Getting plastered, dancing, ruining the life I built.

"What do I know? I left him with you." Left him because I thought he was safe, you psycho. And if he sees you here, he's not safe anymore. None of us are.

Pensively watching him like Shepard spotted a rare bird in the wild, Lukas realized this back and forth got him nothing but wasted time. His father needed to get off their backs. Fast. 

Despite his gall, Lukas felt powerless: physically he couldn't get very far, he had never been a good runner. And undoubtedly, his father wouldn't take another "No" serious enough and leave it at that for tonight.

Damn it. To slip away from this ghost of the past, to get all three of them home in one piece, to avoid a family discussion in the dark cold, Lukas needed to entertain this poor attempt at reconciliation.

"I don't want to argue with you either," he finally murmured, somehow trying to spin it like it wasn't Shepard alone that drove him away.

"That's good. But if you won't tell me, I need to ask again: Why?"

Why should I have stayed, Luke loved to ask back, but a firm bite on his tongue stopped his spite.

"I just wanted to be on my own. Not with these people."

His father looked like he was near tears: "Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I did, every day. And you. Didn't. Listen!" he spit through clenched teeth.

Not that it mattered. Lukas had a hunch about what happened in his absence, and of everything Ben told, he already heard enough. The three of them were long past family breakfast in the camper, like all those years ago. 

Wrapping the jacket closer around himself - because he was cold, no other reason - he frantically thought of his next move. Maybe Avery had the mercy to come out here soon, or anybody else for that matter. Hidden between the cars, Lukas wished to be back in the crowd, invisible to the man in front of him.

As his father took a step towards him, Lukas flinched back. Hurt flit across Shepard's face, halting him on the spot and silence spread out again, both men unsure of what to say next.

"Would you..." His father's fingers fiddled with a set of car keys, "Can you imagine sitting down with me for a bit? We can go to a café or somewhere that is not a parking lot. And we could talk."

"I'm not going back there."

Time stood still, as did the broken family.

"You didn't change a bit, Lukas. Always so perceptive, I shouldn't be surprised you wanted to be independent sooner or later, hmm?"

His son shrugged wordlessly.

"When you say you never want to see these people again, does that include me?"

Yes, Lukas lied to himself. I don't miss you.

In fact, he missed Dad, the man always by his side and ready to be here for him. The only person who understood why the world as it was often felt too overwhelming for Lukas to live in, a man who never called him difficult, even if he was. 

Nevertheless, he couldn't admit it to himself. So Lukas said nothing.

"I think of you," Shepard confessed, helpless against his son's silent treatment, "every single day."

Biting his quivering lip, Lukas let all his anger and sadness flow together: "You can't just come here and expect me to play along, it messes everything up!"

Would he be furious with Ben? With Avery, even? Anxious thoughts caught up to him, now jittery again and trudging on the spot.

"I'm sorry, Luke," the old man said and took a step back again, "I don't want to scare you. Ever."

This doesn't change anything, get a grip! It's good that I left, it's good that Ben followed.

"I'm not going back," he growled.

To this, his father only nodded, as if slowly digesting his answer. 

"Okay."

"I'm not."

"I understand, it's okay." The gentle tone in his voice resonated with hurt, and this time, Lukas believed him. "I need to know that you're doing well. Are you?"

Shaking in the breeze, grinding his teeth and thinking of the many hours he slaved away his life at the sink of a rundown restaurant, the son couldn't be as truthful as he would like to be: "Yes, I am."

"That's good to hear," Shepard exhaled deeply, like a great burden was lifted from his shoulders, "I'm so glad."

Awkwardly, Lukas rubbed his soles into the asphalt. Shepard took the bait without any problem, but leaving itself was not the only sin he committed during his trip to Atlanta.

"Are you mad?"

Shepard stood much closer now, rows of cars surrounding the pair at all sides. He blinked, then glanced back questioningly.

"Because of the money." Lukas explained, "I don't have it anymore."

The bit of seed capital he took from the collective register; five thousand dollars, to be exact. A missing sum his father surely had to explain to the residents... And still, for the first time in years, Lukas saw his father smile - more amused than happy.

"No, no. Impressed, you could say, I really didn't see that coming."

His son gazed up, the same amber eyes as the old man, framed by Claire's features: "What about Birdie?"

"Oh, you know her. Don't get me started."

Good! I hope that bitch had an aneurysm. 

Lukas' smirk quickly gave way to another beat of silence as he zipped the jacket around his shoulders open and close, still uneasy: "What happens now?"

"I have no idea, Luke," his father sighed somberly, "But maybe you could give me a chance to come back into your life again."

"Well..." Perhaps I can visit you, once a month or so. Lukas quickly shook this thought away. Thank goodness Ben didn't run into him, he would've begged and cried to go back already. "I need some time to think, so if you're planning on staying around here, we could set up a... meeting or whatever. "

Unless he managed to relocate himself and his brother first. Lukas wanted to throw up at the thought of explaining this whole mess to him later, as he carefully handed over the jacket back to its owner, who unlocked the truck behind him and tossed it inside.

What is he thinking anyway, Lukas wondered, driving around town and creeping through the parking lot like a weirdo?

The light from inside the vehicle let him see his father a bit better, and the deep lines of worry carved into his face. He suddenly seemed much older than he was, the beard didn't help much either, yet he wore a small smile on his lips. His old man looked relieved.

If he - by some force of nature - should come back to himself one day, Lukas may rethink his plan. But as long as their peace of mind fell victim to strangers on a meadow, he needed to keep them both away from this life as far as possible.

"I missed you so much," Shepard breathed as he turned back to face him, even closer now, and suddenly pulled him into a gentle hug.

Lukas' muscles tensed up, surprised, but there was no force behind the embrace. It felt nice, being held like that.

I missed you too, Luke thought for a second and rested his forehead against his dad's chest. Why couldn't he act like that all the time? Patient, a bit silly here and there, and attentive like he used to be; like he was most of the time. 

But sometimes, he just-

In a fraction of a second, Shepard's grip tightened around his son. Before Lukas had a chance to register it, he was picked up, spun and pushed onto the passenger's seat of the truck. The impact knocked a silent scream out of his lungs.

What-

Hot flashes of pain surged from his back up to his head, where he took an unlucky fall on the center console. In his confusion, Lukas managed to lift his leg and land a kick against his father's stomach. With a twist of his hand, Shepard swiftly grabbed his ankle and pressed it down onto the seat. Big eyes full of panic gawked up at him.

"You can't-"

A cloth pressed into his face, calculated and determined. Luke tried to scream, but all efforts stayed smothered by the thick fabric.

"Shhh." The hand only held on tighter against his face.

Fumes burned inside his mouth and nose, forcing cough after cough out of his lungs. As if all air was slowly disappearing, Lukas felt his mind freeze up, paralyzed by fear and chaos.

It hurts, was the one thought echoing through him, Dad hurts me.

Haplessly, he tried to stem away from the cushion, to maybe get a leg on the ground and slip out, yet all the twisting and turning only gave him another well-meant shush and more weight pushing down on his body. 

The smothered whines hurt the most, nearly ripping his father's soul in two.

"I know, I know," Shepard whispered into his hair, "it's alright."

Laying flat on his stomach now, Lukas knocked his useless feet against the locked door. Nothing more than a cry for help, he focussed his whole strength on trying to get out of an embrace that only grew firmer with every motion: nails scratching against flannel, an elbow between the ribs. 

All the noise fell on deaf ears. Nobody was coming to help him.

With every kick and scream, Lukas' struggle became less and less coordinated. His dizzy vision made it hard to aim, and despite the scratchy fibers digging into his face, his skin suddenly felt warm, so warm that it felt hard to pull away anymore. 

One blink, and keeping his eyes open became impossibly difficult, like the biggest chore he could manage. Images melted into each other, a kaleidoscope of colors and vertigo.

Another blink, and his tired limbs gave up the fight, leaving him to droop further into the cloth. Only his eyes still fluttered, until even this task became impossible. They shut eventually, long after the last thought got wiped away from his consciousness.

Slow, deep breaths pulled Lukas even further away until he fell asleep, calm and peaceful, in his father's arms.

--------

Inside his mind, Shepard counted. He had to be accurate, for his and Lukas' sake. It kept his thoughts from what he was doing to his son right now, but in extreme situations, a father resorts to extreme measures.

And in refusing to contain his stubbornness, Lukas had left him no choice.

Gradually, the body beneath him grew slack under his weight. After another minute, Shepard carefully pulled the cloth away from his airways when he felt confident enough that the boy wouldn't start throwing another fit.

In the dark, he listened for any unrest outside the truck, any unwanted onlookers. Nothing but the remains of what they counted as music shook through the surrounding metal. Finally, then, Shepard realized it was over.

Lukas was back. Back with him. It was unreal, like a lovely dream come true at last.

His son laid motionless on his side while he held him close, a kiss on the forehead to take away any anxiety left. Checking his breathing and temperature - his skin a bit too cold to the touch for Shepard's liking - the father only marveled at how Lukas looked exactly as he did the evening they last spoke. Nothing had changed, and soon, Shepard knew it would be just like it used to be. Only the two- 

Only the three of them.

A part of him stung from having to leave Reuben behind, yet Shepard had no doubt that he would follow them soon after. He did feel a bit disappointed, though, that Lukas would so blatantly lie to him, but nobody should be surprised by that. There were bad influences all around in this part of town.

"I know it's unfair." A lone tear got wiped off Lukas' cheek. "We'll talk about it later."

Safe and secure again, he positioned him in the passenger seat, buckled in tightly to keep him from slumping over.

With a twist of the key, the engine sprung awake and let ease shake through his chest. His little one would surely be inconsolable when he woke up, but for tonight, the restless void in Shepard's heart had stopped aching.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whumpyourdamnpears

[whumpshaped]

Been thinking about a mock execution followed by a mock resurrection in a cult setting. Like… Whumpee watched their best friend be ‘killed’ and now the cult demands all this stuff for the ‘ritual’ to bring them back and by the end Whumpee is so brainwashed they’ll play the role of being mock executed to help bring people into the cult. Deception isn’t that big a deal if it’s saving someone’s soul, and they should know- they’ve turned out fine

- @another-whump-sideblog

ok i realise this is different from the prompt because whumpee doesnt actually know theyre participating in deception..... but i think its still pretty good

tw cult setting, religious whump, murder, manipulation, conditioning, noncon drugging

There was nothing they could do. They couldn't stand up and rush over to the priest, they couldn't get their friend off the altar, they couldn't even move. They were surrounded by all their other friends and loved ones who didn't move a muscle either, didn't even bat an eye as the priest raised the ritual knife. If they had stood up and opposed this madness, they would've been shunned.

So they stayed put and watched. They gripped the edge of their seat and tried to blink away their tears, hoping that at the end of all this chanting the priest would do something symbolic instead of literally stabbing their best friend. Maybe it was a test of faith. Maybe if they stayed put, the priest would reward them by not murdering their friend.

When the knife came down, Whumpee almost saw it in slow motion. Their eyes were helplessly locked on the scene as the priest buried the knife hilt-deep inside their friend's abdomen, but they couldn't make a single sound of protest. They couldn't believe it. It just wasn't real. It couldn't be.

They watched as their friend's head lolled to the side, glassy eyes staring into their very soul. They watched as the body went limp and was carried away, and they stayed in their seat, only moving to kneel for prayer once everyone else did so as well.

Their friend was gone. What were they even praying for?

"Whumpee."

They turned towards the source of the voice, finding themself staring at the priest. The church was empty. They were still kneeling. They must've zoned out.

"I'm sorry, I... I'll leave. Sorry. I didn't realise–"

"I would like to talk to you, actually. I know you must be experiencing a lot of emotions regarding today's events."

"I... I have questions."

The priest smiled and extended a hand. "Come. I'll answer them all to the best of my abilities."

-

"They said they would be resurrected," Whumpee said quietly. "I thought... I thought it was a metaphor. I didn't know... I'm sorry, I'm still so new to all of this, I don't understand how– how they could give their life so willingly– they said they'd seen others be resurrected, and they trusted me, and I just... I don't know what they trusted me with."

"Their life, of course."

Whumpee's eyes widened. "But– was I supposed to stop it? They said not to stop it! They said to trust in you like they trusted in me! And I did, I didn't stop it–"

"Calm down, child. Allow me to explain the process behind the sacrifice."

Whumpee took a shaky breath and tried to settle down. They wiped the tears from their eyes and gestured for the priest to go on, putting on their best listening face.

"People volunteer to become sacrificial lambs for those closest to them. Your friend volunteered their life to strengthen your faith, and they trust that you won't run away from the trial. Because if your faith is strong enough, you can bring them back."

"Bring them back..?"

"Of course. They weren't lying about having seen many resurrections. They have even resurrected a friend before themself. They were just as shaken as you are now, but they decided to trust in God, strengthen their faith, and go through with the ritual."

Whumpee felt like they were being lied to. Who could even bring back someone from the dead? If anyone, it certainly wasn't them. But if their friend had also done it... and if they were now counting on them... "I've never seen any resurrections before," they said miserably. "It sounds..."

"Impossible?" Whumpee slowly nodded, and the priest chuckled. "Yes, it does. But that is part of the trial. You see, those who have never gone through resurrecting a friend or loved one aren't allowed to participate in sacrificial sermons, unless it's their very own — which is what you've just taken part in. Once you've seen something happen in front of your very eyes, it's quite easy to believe it could happen again. But believing that even something that sounds entirely impossible, something you have never witnessed before could happen because of your trust and devotion? That is true faith."

True faith... But how were they supposed to believe something so outrageous? "I, I'm not sure I can do that," they stammered. They didn't even attempt to hold back their tears this time. "My friend– my friend trusted me this much? Why? Why, when I can't– I can't imagine how one could believe in such a thing! I wasn't ready! They gave their life for someone like me, and I'm not even– I'm not even faithful enough to, to bring them back!"

"They trusted you because they believed you were ready." The priest reached out and gently took their hand in their own. "They came to consult me about it, and I told them that I shared their sentiment."

"Why would you–"

"Because you are, child. You are ready. And I can help you grow your faith in the coming three days before the resurrection ceremony. I can help you trust. And I will, if you ask me to." They paused for a moment, their determined expression softening into something more understanding. "You can also choose to walk away from the trial, of course. Nobody can stop you. I know your friend would never hold it against you."

"How can you even say that?" they sobbed. "You murdered my friend, and now you're saying I have a chance to undo it, and– and that I can walk away? Of course I can't. I can't. I can't let them die if there's another way!"

"I assumed you would say that. And your friend did too."

-

Whumpee barely slept in those three days. They were advised to fast, read the holy texts, and pray. Nothing else mattered. They told themself over and over that everything was possible for God, that the people who said they'd already witnessed several resurrections weren't lying, that if they believed hard enough their friend would come back and hug them and tell them they'd done well.

On the day of the ceremony, Whumpee was sweating bullets. They were terrified that their faith hadn't grown enough to bring a person back to life. As they walked up to the altar with their dead friend on top of it, they thought they might pass out.

"Let us pray," the priest said loudly, and Whumpee heard the sound of a hundred people all get onto their knees. They lowered themself to the floor as well, clasping their hands together with the desperation of someone who was truly suffering. "Lord, examine the heart of Your humble servant closely. Reward their faith if it pleases You, and give them the gift of life and love. Show them that with faith, everything is possible."

The crowd murmured the word 'amen', and Whumpee took a deep breath. "Amen."

Days without food had weakened their body, and they felt lightheaded as they rose to their feet again. They looked down at their dead friend, then up at the priest and the religious symbols on the wall behind them. In that moment, a wave of complete and utter peace washed over them. They knew that everyone in the room trusted the same God as them, and that they had all seen this happen before. Nothing was impossible.

"I believe," they whispered, and the priest took their hand and gently guided it to their friend's chest.

"Let it happen according to your faith."

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Whumpee broke down in tears as soon as they felt it, dropping right back to their knees while muttering words of gratutude and worship. Their faith had been enough. Their friend was alive! Their friend was alive again, because they had trusted and believed!

"Praise be," they choked out, and the priest laughed.

"Praise be!" they repeated joyfully, and the people behind them enthusiastically joined in.

-

"I can't believe I'm about to spring this on my friend," Whumpee said with a grin. "Like you did to me! That was the scariest day of my entire life, and I'm about to do it to someone else..."

"But it was followed by the best day of your life, wasn't it?" Their friend was cheery as ever, the scar on their stomach carefully covered up by several layers of clothes. "Your faith would not be as stable as it is if I hadn't done that! And now you get to help your friend like I helped you."

"You're right. Besides, I'm sure they'll do amazingly." Their smile faltered, and they stopped walking. "Were you scared? Before the big day?"

Their friend turned around to be able to look them in the eyes, but there was nothing on their face that indicated that this question was a bad one. They looked compassionate. "Yes, I was. Not because I thought you wouldn't pass the trial, just... I knew it would hurt."

"Does it hurt a lot?"

Their friend nodded a little, and absentmindedly raised a hand to their stomach. "It's over quite quickly, though. Quicker than I'd assumed."

Whumpee nodded as well, but then quickly went back to their joyful attitude from before. "Well, no need to be sad about it! It's for a good cause, and I'm happy to be a part of it!"

Their friend smiled back. "Yes. It's quite the thrilling experience."

-

The priest was quite pleased when Whumpee sought them out to talk about the sacrifice. They were eager to continue the cycle, which was always a good sign. It meant that they didn't suspect a thing.

They talked to Whumpee for a good while, answering all the questions they had with utter nonsense they made up on the spot. There was no truth to any of it, really, but all the idiots in the group ate it up. The real preparation started once Whumpee was out of the room.

They prepared a portion of their special drug cocktail, the one they used to coat the ritual knife. It had some anaesthetics in it to dull the pain, and of course something that would cause the subject to black out quite quickly. It gave the very convincing impression of seeing somebody die on the altar.

They prepared all the IVs and the surgical equipment, making sure everything was clean and in order. They couldn't have the sacrifice actually die, after all. No, they had to be kept in a limbo for three days, not dead but not awake either. The only time the heart needed to be stopped was right before the ceremony, in case someone got overwhelmed and decided to check for a pulse before they gave the go-ahead.

The priest pulled out one of the drawers, grimacing when they realised they would need to cook up a new batch of the other drug as well, the one they used to restart circulation. It was always remarkably easy to inject the sacrifice while all the sheep had their heads bowed in prayer. No one ever looked. No one ever noticed.

For all they knew, they were witnessing one resurrection after the other.

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em

[probablybadrpgideas]

Remember, the names of the great old ones are just human approximations.

While "Kuh-thoo-lu" is the accepted pronunciation, there's nothing stopping you from having cultists who use "Ku-lu-ho", "Kat-hu-lu" or the entirety of Flo Rider's 2008 hit song (Shawty Got) Low as the god's name.

[chancekey]

it was technically his temple anyway, so Narinder's holing up there instead of in some stupid hut

[the-one-with-spider-brainrot]

fucking around with brushes god I. Do not shade very often

[ninjasmudge]

low effort! if hed have just said he was gonna be a black cat theyd have gone as a witch to match

[bamsara]

My sticker from @spacedoutflowers came in WITH SURPRISE NARILAMB!!!! AAAAAAA