#mentions of past torture

[ssa-neeks-prentiss]

Whumptober : Day One!

Notes: This can be read as gn reader but they are confused with a female and have hair long enough to cover their face.

Tw: Blood, mentions of last torture, character death.

Summary : What happens when you get kidnapped and they arrive a little too late?

Word Count : 1.2k

Your ears perked up at the sound of crunching above you. It sounded different to the steps of the.. You didn't even know what to call him. You didn't know who he was. But he acted as if you knew him. And he kept referring to you as Leila. That wasn't your name. But as the crunching steps disappeared, new ones followed. Steps you recognized. The steps of him. You would know them anywhere. It was always a habit, learning the sound of the steps to distinguish who it was behind you.

You shook those thoughts away as the thumps of his feet got louder and louder, coming up close behind. You were tired. So tired. Your skin and clothes and anything that belonged to you was stained with blood and dirt. And you could still feel the slaps.

He was in front of you now. You shut your eyes in hopes that it would delay just a little longer for someone to find you. Anyone. You prayed to a God you didn't believe in. Prayed to multiple. You didn't know which one to pray to. You just prayed that you would make it alive.

But those prayers were dashed against sharp rocks as you hear the click of the safety on a gun being take off. This was it. No use for praying. You were gonna die. Well, you knew you would at some point. But you didn't want it to be now. When the team was so close to finding you. But you were struggling to remember now. Struggling to remember who's footsteps had crunched against the snow earlier. All you could think of was him. The crunch of his steps. The feel of his hand against your cheek as the stinging pain begun. The sound of his laughter if you let out a cry of pain. The smell of his cheap cologne as he stepped closer to you. It was taking over your mind and it didn't leave room for anything else.

You racked your brain for something nice. Something that would make dying a tiny bit easier. Your mind flashed to the team. Of course it would. They were the family you never had. The one you would spend nights in your room wishing for. You had it and now it was all going to leave.

You thought of Hotch first, he was like a father to you now. His concerns for you when you were ill one time. That one time you saw him reading a trashy romance novel, you almost smiled at that, you had teased him ruthlessly for it, never thinking he was the type of person to read that kind of thing. You thought to the one time where Hotch invited the team to watch Romeo and Juliet on Broadway and you had a great time.

You then thought to Rossi. The little pastries you found on your desk after a hard case. The time where you were watching a movie with the team and after you saw Rossi crying and the excuse he made of allergies.

You wondered how they would feel when you passed. Would they cry? You hoped that they wouldn't. You knew they would. Tears stung your eyes as you imagined their reactions and the sound of Penny's sobs. Change of topic. Back to the team.

JJ. She was like a mother. When you were sick she would always check up on you via phone. And when you were rejected another time, she was the one who comforted you, the one who made you realize you were worth so much more than your ex crush gave you.

And Emily, oh sweet Emily. She would take it the hardest. You were like sisters. And she would lose you. She had already lost enough of her family. You thought back to when you had thought you lost her. That was when you realized how important she was. It was like a part of you was missing. But that part came back. You hoped that Emily would feel like that, her missing piece would be back. But you wouldn't be back. That piece of her would be gone forever.

You were going off topic. What was the guy doing? He was just stood there. No, think back to the team. He will kill you soon. Wait.. Will he make them watch? No. He wasn't that cruel.. Right..? Then it clicked. There was always one survivor. One witness. He wanted them to feel what it was like to lose someone. Your heart clenched. The team would watch you die. You hoped it would be in their arms. No that's selfish. But you were going to die so what's the point of being selfless? There was nothing and no one to be selfless for.

Off topic again, Penny. She would take it second hardest. No. Think of the good things. You thought to the shirt you had on. Penny had made it for you one time after a particularly bad case, at least you would die with something that reminded you of her. You hoped you would be able wear something she made to your funeral.

Spence. The boy you had watched grow and get better. The one who you helped after he got addicted. He was like a younger brother to you. You would listen to his rants. You wished that maybe you would be able to die listen to the soft lull of his voice. You think to the time you found out he was afraid of birds. He said something like 'they descended from dinosaurs! They're dangerous things!'

You think to Derek. The teasing between you, the play fights you had when you were both bored. You thought to the time when you found he coached a basketball team and you had mentioned you used to play, you were then dragged to each game he coached to be an assistant, not that you minded.

You finally thought to the team as a whole. You think of the late nights out. The monopoly games that made a screaming match. You remember the sounds of them screaming your name after you.. Wait. As you were hauled to your feet you realized. That wasn't a memory. You opened you eyes and in from of you was the team, minus Penny.

They all looked horrified and shocked. You offered them a small smile but as you felt the cool metal of the gun against your blood soaked skin your smile dropped. Right. You were going to die. You kept your gaze on the team. You didn't hear the unsub. You only saw the team. Nothing else mattered and as you felt the bullet pierce your skin you kept your eyes open. You heard their screams. You dropped as the guy ran. No one cared at that moment as some agents you didn't recognize rushed past them.

Nothing else mattered as you were scooped into Hotch's arms. You looked up and smiled. Nothing else mattered as you heard Spencer's voice as he ranted. It was a nervous mechanism. And it was something he needed right now. There was only one thing you needed to do before you let go. Oh how you wished they had come quicker. But you knew that wasn't gonna happen. It was a race against the clock.

"I.. I love you guys."

You uttered it out as a goodbye and their cries didn't register as you let go of the thread of life. They were a fast team. The fastest team you knew. They always won against every race against the clock. But, this race, the only race that mattered to them. They were too slow. They had lost this race against the clock.

[darkthingshappen]

Reckoning (Merry Whump of May Day 1)

A Brother's Keeper Story Set about seven month's after Ben's initial rescue after fourteen months of captivity with Volkov.

Thanks to my always whumperful crew @whumpcereal @sparrowsage @quietly-by-myself, and @oddsconvert for the flash beta job this afternoon.

Tags list at the end.

Warnings: BRIEF mentions of past torture, captivity, and noncon. Though nothing too explicit. PTSD. Ben just has a moment where he's tired of being told it's okay and unfortunately, Jake gets the full brunt of it. Ben's not wrong, but Jake... well... you'll see.

@themerrywhumpofmay (I'm so excited this is back this year!)

The kitchen was brightly lit, it was Fall again.  Ben and Jake were doing the dishes.  They were nearing the second anniversary of Ben’s abduction, but it felt like the first since he’d spent the previous one still with Volkov. Jake was dreading it.  Everyone was dreading it.  Ben was jumpy and distant, caught up in far too many dark memories.  

Still, he had made so much progress, especially in the last month or so.  He was smiling more, Jake had even seen him laugh once, with Zoe.  Ben was slowly coming out of his shell after a brief stint in a mental hospital and months and months of intensive therapy.  Ben stared blankly out the window.  He never seemed to be able to get enough of looking outside.  

Jake slapped him playfully on the arm with his wet washcloth as he’d done a million times throughout their childhood.  

He shouldn’t have done that.  The loud smacking sound of the cloth on Ben’s arm sent him to the floor, arms over his head, curled in a ball and rocking.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Ben whimpered. 

Jake glanced around the kitchen in panic.  He was alone with Ben.  Their parents were out, his dad at work and their mom grocery shopping.  They were counting on him to take care of Ben.  He’d told them he could do it.  He was eight years Ben’s senior for god’s sake.  Think!  He could do this.  He could handle it.  Couldn’t he?  

“Shit!  Benny.  It’s okay.  Sorry.  That was stupid of me.  I was just playing like we used to.  I didn’t think...  Shit I’m sorry.  Please Benny.  Please,” Jake begged, trying to recall what the therapist had said about how to bring Ben out of these horrible flashbacks.  

Jake got up and ran to the living room.  He grabbed the heated and weighted blanket they’d got Ben recently.  They left it on most of the time for emergencies like this.  Jake draped the warm blanket over Ben and held Ben’s hand, rubbing soft circles on the back of it with his thumb.  

“It’s okay, Ben.  Don’t worry.  It’s okay,” Jake assured him for the millionth time since Ben had come home and had one of his prolific flashbacks that, at best made him freeze dead still and zone out, and at worst made him panic and react as if he were in the moment that he was seeing in his head.  

“It’s not fucking okay!” Ben snapped suddenly, throwing the blanket off and getting to his feet.  “Stop fucking telling me that!  You don’t know a damn thing about it, do you?”  He glared at his brother.  “You.  Weren’t. There!”

Jake recoiled, taken aback by the sudden and uncharacteristic anger and volume.  Ben was always quiet now, rarely talking and when he did it was barely above a whisper.  Jake attributed it to months of wearing a fucking shock collar.  He stared at Ben in disbelief.  He knew he deserved his brother’s anger.  Whatever Ben wanted to say, he deserved it.  He deserved to be reviled by the shell of a brother in front of him.  He wished to God he could fix it; could make his baby brother whole.  

“He didn’t take you, did he?  He didn’t fucking torture you on daily basis, did he?  He didn’t ra-” Ben’s voice, dripping with rage, cut off and he was left standing, heaving in breaths of air.  His whole body trembled and Jake saw the dam of emotions and torment and memories that threatened to overwhelm his baby brother.  

They both knew what he was about to say.  

“It’s not okay,” Ben finally finished, more quietly than before.  

“I-I know, Benny.  I’m not meaning to make light.  I know what he did to you.-”

“No.  No you fucking don’t.  Seeing my scars or reading that damn file that they gave mom and dad doesn’t mean you know.  It doesn’t.  It doesn’t.  There’s so much more than what they could fit in my fucking file.”  Ben made air quotes over the last word.  

“I spent almost every night curled up in a cage.  A fucking cage, Jake.  No blanket.  No pillow, no mattress.  Just a hard plastic or metal bottom of a cage.  And it was cold.  All the time.  I asked for a blanket one time.  Do you know what he did to me?”

Jake’s expression reflected the horror of what Ben was telling him.  It was the most Ben had directly said about what happened to him when he was with Volkov and Jake felt ashamed to want him to stop talking.  He shook his head minutely.  

“He tied me to a fucking cross outside.  Outside in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.  Outside in the fucking Russian winter.  I thought I was gonna die.  Over and over and over I thought I was going to die.  Until it shifted from being afraid of dying to…” Ben’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “To hoping for it.”  He looked at Jake.  “I don’t know who I am anymore because of what he did to me.  Do you know what it’s like to hurt so bad, in every part of you, that you just want it to be over.  Permanently.  Do you?”

A tear slipped down Jake’s cheek and he shook his head,  “N-no.  No, Benny, I don’t. I’m… I’m sorry.  I wish I knew what to do.  I wish I knew how to take it away.  God!  Fuck! Benny I wish it were me.  You have no idea how badly I wish it had been me.  It should have been me.”

And for once, Ben didn’t disagree.  He just stood there watching his brother crumble.  He had always said, believed, told himself, that he wouldn’t wish what happened to him on his worst enemy.  But he was so angry, and so terrified, and so overwhelmed with all that he had been through, that a furious mean little voice that he never used to have reared its ugly head and screamed inside him, ‘I wish it had been you!’

Ben clamps his lips shut before he can utter the hurtful words, but he knew it was too late, he may not have said them, but Jake heard them loud and clear all the same.  Ben sighed.  

“I… I need to… I need a break, Jake.  I-I-I don’t blame you.  I don’t.” He said the words, but he was no longer sure if he believed them.  “But I can’t do this right now.”

Ben turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jake standing in the middle of the room, holding a warm blanket that offered him no comfort. 

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) 

[doyouevermakeasound]

Febuwhump Prompt Day 1: Touchstarved

CW: Mention of past torture

Whumpee didn’t know it until the realization struck them, much like they had been hit.  So. Many.  Times.  Before.  

Caretaker’s forehead touched theirs, their hand gently cupping their cheek.  No words were said.  They didn’t have to be spoken.

Whumpee had been found.  Found!  After all this time!  Time?  How much time had passed?  Whumpee didn’t know.  Caretaker knew, down to the hour.

The silence was broken by caretaker’s hushed tone as they withdrew their forehead from whumpees, “We need to leave now.  Can you walk?”  

Whumpee missed the touch already but understood the gravity of the situation.  “I think so.”  Their own voice felt foreign to them.  It was hushed, gravelly, and not much higher than a whisper from the hours spent screaming.  

“Good,” the caretaker’s hand withdrew from Whumpee’s cheek, leaving them with just a fond memory, as the caretaker went to work on the rough rope that cut many sores into whumpee’s wrists.  

A familiar squeak from above, one so quiet that even caretaker didn’t hear it, made whumpee stiffened.  “Care-caretaker.  Run.”  They spoke in a hurried tone.  “They’re coming.  Whumper is coming.”  They jerked away from Caretaker, trying to create space between them.  “Go!”

Caretaker missed the telltale noise and instead redoubled their efforts to free whumpee.  “No!”

“Whumpee.” Caretaker freed one wrist, “I can’t leave you!  Not again…”

The door creaked open behind the pair, freezing caretaker in their place, understanding dawning on them.

“Caretaker, how nice of you to join us.” 

@febuwhump

[whumpshaped]

very specific whump drabble request because it won’t leave my mind.

whumpee recovering (with the help of caretaker) after being tortured by whumper and specifically having his achilles tendons cut :D

content: past trauma, rocky recovery, hospital setting, gore mention, sadistic whumper, surgery mention, aftereffects of torture, flashbacks

The cast felt uncomfortable. The surgery site was not yet painful, likely because Whumpee had been pumped full of painkillers, but his leg was already itching, and he knew that stupid cast wasn't coming off for at least several weeks. And they'd put his foot in such an odd position, it was just... so weird.

"I don't like this," Whumpee whispered, and Caretaker gave him an apologetic smile.

"I know. I'm sorry. But they had to do the surgery."

Whumpee nodded. Of course, he knew that too. It just didn't make it any easier.

It felt so unfair. He was here with a stupid cast on his leg, while Whumper was somewhere still out there, free, happy, able to walk and run and jump.

"Just let me know when you're ready to go," Caretaker said softly, breaking Whumpee out of his thoughts.

"I mean... I, I'd like to go as soon as possible. Can we go now?"

"Uh— well, I mean, I guess? Let me ask a nurse, hold on. They said we could go whenever, but I'm not sure they assumed you would want to go immediately."

Whumpee watched his friend disappear into the hallway, and he turned his head back to look at the ceiling. It was all white, just like the rest of the hospital, aside from pops of that ghastly green colour.

He wanted to go home. This emergency hospital visit felt like one last punch from Whumper, one last way in which they could keep him from finally returning to his life. It was infuriating.

"I hope you're not a dancer," they said, giddy with excitement as they raised the knife. "I would so hate to do this to a dancer."

The memory flooded his mind all at once, without warning. He clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle any sobs, trying to calm down. It was over. It was over.

"I hope you think of me every time you take another step."

~

this is one of my last drabbles here, please feel free to follow me on my new blog @sowhumpshaped

[fallenwhumpee]

Full Prize

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Mentioned past torture, mentioned murder, inexplicit injuries, restrains, suggesting torture, possibly dissociation.

Leader stared ahead. They didn't spare a glance at their ankles throbbing as if they were still broken, their wrists aching. They could practically feel the knife once was between their shoulder blades, deep enough to puncture one of their lungs.

But Leader didn't react to the pain at all. It was all they had felt until a month ago— for almost a year. It was familiar, comforting, even. To have a reminder that they had been beaten, but not broken.

"We can rough them up a bit," Right Hand suggested, touching to their healed arm lightly. It still hurt— the mere sight of Whumper was enough to resurface the pain that was supposed to be gone, but clinging to Leader's skin.

It all looked to a word from their mouth. Whunper was just there, yet to wake up, tied up and thrown to a corner like a bag. Defenseless. Leader could just wrap their hands around their throat and—

"There's no need," Leader all but ordered, not breaking the blank expression. They didn't know how they sustained their image, but at least their flat look would stop possible protests. "They will pay for what they did to everyone."

"Then let me have the watch at least. You haven't moved since we came back," Right Hand tried again.

"I'm alright," Leader assured. They were alright. They could act like they were alright, at least. And that was more than enough.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Anything I should know before you go?" Leader shifted their stance, taking some weight off of their almost healed ankle.

"No sir."

"Good." Leader nodded, bothered by the formality. Right Hand began walking out, and Leader called them before they could stop themselves.  "Right Hand?"

"Hm?" Right Hand's head snapped at them.

"Don't worry," Leader tried again. They had already burdened the team with their absence. They didn't want to cause more trouble.

"Hard not to," Right Hand muttered.

"I know."

"I won't let you be around when they wake up, though," Right Hand insisted.

Leader gave a small smile. "I give the orders here," they reminded.

"No. Not this time. Last time you insisted on something—"

"It was for the best," Leader cut through the sentence. The other option would end with slaughter of their team.

"No—"

"Right Hand," Leader warned, a little too sharp. They took a deep breath, fixing their tone. "The reason of our argument is now incapacitated. I see no reason for me to leave."

"When will you stop acting as if nothing happened?"

"I'm not ignoring what happened. But truly, Right Hand, I'm alright. Past is past."

Telling was easy, after all. Leader could lie in their sleep. They weren’t proud about that, but it was useful. And it was a lie they told themselves constantly. They would fake it until they made it.

"But its not for me!" Right Hand yelled. The tone made both of them flinch, but it was all Leader needed to pull Right Hand into their embrace. Gently, they wrapped their aching arms around the younger officer. Right Hand grabbed Leader's shirt tightly from behind, tense.

"Its not, and you acting as if you were always here is eating me alive. I… I'm afraid. I don't want you and Whumper in the same city, let alone the same room." Right Hand mumbled, burying their head to Leader's neck and clinging to their shirt. "I can't— we can't lose you again."

"I'm not going anywhere." Leader patted Right Hand's back, pulling away only a little after Right Hand loosened their grip.

"Don't. Ever." Right Hand stepped back fully, schooling their voice back to neutral just because Whumper began to stir.

Right Hand grabbed Leader's wrist to pull them back, but Leader didn’t budge. Instead, they shook Whumper with their shoe, trying to get them coherent faster.

"Rise and shine, darling. I brought you to your hell."

"Don't tell me they fixed you," Whumper whined, sitting up straighter. They looked sore.

Good.

"Bold of you to assume your pathetic attempts made a dent on me,"Leader retorted.

"You break my heart," Whumper pouted. They wiggled in their place a little. "At least your mercy is still here. These binds are too lose."

They were not, Leader reminded themselves. Leader checked it far too often to doubt just because Whumper made a comment.

"When will the vehicle arrive?" Leader asked, ignoring Whumper trying again.

"Almost there," Right Hand said after checking their phone.

"And you'll just let me go, dear? I thought you loved me when I was crushing your bones. A special experience and all. Sentimental people like you would appreciate quality bonding time more."

"Shut it. Adults are talking," Right Hand snarled back before Leader could open their mouth. "Leader, we still have time for it. I can't stand them."

"We gotta be an example. And I want full prize, their corpse cuts the bounty in half," Leader returned, voice neutral. They were surprisingly alright with Right Hand's suggestions, they admitted to themselves reluctantly, but it wouldn't satisfy Leader.

Nothing could calm down the rage Leader had locked deep into their mind.

"Technically, they can fall from the elevator shaft and elevator can fall on them. In best case scenerio, we'll have to call for cleanup."

"See, this is the hospitality you kept gloating about, dear Leader. You can't even pull your weight. You should try my discipline methods."

Leader didn't wince at the remark. Their hand, hidden behind their body, however, clenched into a fist hard enough to hurt. The suggestion made them feel dirty for no reason. Leader wasn't a monster.

Or well, they weren't a monster like Whumper.

Because Leader knew what they could do. Leader still remembered the first time Whumper released their underlings into their cell. They remembered the second, the third. They remembered the bloodshed just by their hands. They remembered the raw rage shutting down their thoughts.

They remembered the corpses

"Its always sad to see people assume fear is a good teacher," Leader mused instead, dismissing the thoughts. The safehouse's door cracked open behind them. There were still two doors between, but Leader could practically feel people closing. They stepped aside, turning their face to the door as if it was a potential treat. Of course they knew it was not but still… survival instincts were hard to get rid of.

Leader let the rest on Right Hand. They offered their opinion only when asked as the authorities dragged Whumper away.

-•-

At that night, for the first time in a long time, Leader went to sleep feeling safe. Until Right Hand basically broke into their room, telling that Whumper escaped.

[jvpiterstears]

“ if i died in the middle of a frozen night, would you feel alright? would you be alright? ”

a

hey guys………, ugghhhh me trying to listen to Stay Behind, Dirty Town, Arms Tonite (OH MY GOODDDDDDDD. THAT ONE.), Back To Life, and Burning Pile trying not to think about either of them (and failing (MISERABLY)) why are they so wet dogs core. doomed yaouri. oHH MY GOD BOTTOM BY MCCAFFEETY JUST STARTED PLAYING AS I WAS WRITING THIS IM GONNA FUCKING SCR EA,MMMMM???? “hey man i miss your collar bones i miss the way your skin feels on my collar bones” i might be unwell about this. they make me sixk disgusting little. little tthings.. /aff

reblogs over likes please !

( all intended ship but can be platonic ::} )

[whumperofworlds]

Caretaker-turned-Whumper where they torture Whumper for hurting Whumpee, except they hide that fact from Whumpee.

Whumpee grew suspicious of Caretaker, and when Caretaker is away, Whumpee looks for the truth. They find Whumper chained up in Caretaker's basement, beaten and bloodied, and begging for help.

How would Whumpee react? Would they be joyous and even help Caretaker torture Whumper? Would they be shocked to realize that Caretaker did this, and they are now scared of Caretaker? Would they keep their mouth shut?

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 31

My beloveds are here to send off Whumptober <3 It's been a truly incredible experience to not only stay on track with, but to actually complete. I still can't believe I did that. I'll be continuing some of what I started here, just give me a minute to rest my typing fingers <3

Content warnings for: mental health evaluation, mentions of suicide, and suicidal ideation.

Therapy

“Seriously?”

“Come on, Dec. Lay down, relax.”

Declan frowned and reluctantly reclined back on the couch, resting his head against the arm.

“On your back…”

“I could not give less of a shit, Hasan.”

“You can’t calm down when you look at me.” Hasan crossed their knees, settling a clipboard in their lap. “This is supposed to be a therapeutic environment.”

“Therapeutic my ass.”

“Yes, darling? Shall I give it a massage?”

“Shut up.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes.

“A spanking then, love?”

“Fuck off, Hasan!” He shot up and bared his teeth, but they ignored his discomfort.

“How often would you say you experience little or no pleasure in doing things?”

“Every single second I have to deal with your sorry self.”

Their clothes rustled and something clinked on the coffee table next to him. His eyes flicked over to see Hasan setting down their belt, the heavy buckle meeting glass.

“Tell the truth and I won’t use it today. Or anything else for that matter.” Well, his attention was piqued but he still leveled his gaze, glowering. “Now tell me again. How often do you experience little or no pleasure in doing things?”

“What kind of things?”

“Let’s say hobbies. Watching television, playing games, and so on.” They were clicking their pen in the silence.

“Probably half the time,” he mumbled.

“Would you say several days this past week, or more than half the days?”

“Picky much? The latter.”

“How often have you felt down, depressed, or hopeless?”

“It’s a little hard to separate my mental health from your influence.”

“Estimate, my dear. You’re stalling.”

He was, but his question didn’t come without merit either.

“Every day then.”

“Do you experience trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, or sleeping too much?”

“Sometimes. Depends how much you torture me.”

“Touché. Have you been experiencing tiredness or low energy?”

“Constantly.” The pen circled another number. “You know I’ve done this a million times before, right? I know I’m depressed.”

“You told me before that you were in remission.”

“Something like that, at some point. I’m not perfect.”

“I didn’t say you should be. I want to understand your state of mind, sweetheart. Have you had a poor appetite or been overeating?”

“Not really. Probably no.”

“Alright. And do you feel bad about yourself? That you’re a failure, or have let people down?” 

“No, Jesus, you just want me to talk about being miserable.”

“Declan.” They raised a brow, flicking the belt buckle. “Truth. Now.”

“...sometimes.”

“Interesting.”

“Don’t interesting me-!”

“Have you had trouble concentrating on activities?”

“Yeah, on weekdays. Always checking the goddamn time for some reason.”

“And how about speed? Are you moving so slowly or so erratically that others would have noticed?”

“That’s a question for you, isn’t it?”

“What answer would you expect?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“I would agree. And in the past week, have you had any thoughts of hurting yourself, or thoughts that you would be better off dead?”

“I think you hurt me enough for the both of us, Hasan.” Declan crossed his arms and turned away, staring into the cushions. “Circle the one and leave me alone.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Excuse you?”

“You know precisely what I’m asking.”

“No, asshole. No I don’t. But if you wanna pink slip me, then be my guest.”

“Just covering my bases.” Hasan stood, picking up their belt.

“Woah! You said you wouldn’t!” He shoved himself back into the couch, watching with wide eyes as they threaded it back through their belt loops.

“I did indeed.” They fastened it and picked up the clipboard, tucking it under their arm and tapping it again with the pen. “We’re going to keep that in check, whether you like it or not.”

[pervartwhoo]

accurate depiction of my reaction to today's tsams:

[pharawee]

My tumblr and BL holiday is probably going to be a bit longer because my internet is down. Again. Apparently there's return path interference (cries in cable) and they can't just fix it. They have to find the source of the interference first (which could be hiding anywhere in the neighbourhood).

It's a good thing I downloaded all the recent trailers and shows I couldn't watch so I can at least catch up and make some gifs.

They couldn't even give me an ETA. It might take them weeks. 😭

[whumpacabra]

Fault

Or AI-less Whumptober 3: “It’s not your fault.”

Nightmares, vomiting, past trauma, past character death, dog mention, noncon mention, implied past torture, implied past animal attack [dog]

Masterpost / Previous / Next

“East?” Jackson woke with a start, suddenly cold as his husband jumped out of bed, stumbling to the watercloset. He fumbled his glasses onto his face, wincing as heard East wretch. “Oh, love…”

He flicked on the bedside light, and shuffled to the bathroom where he found East curled over the toilet, shaking. Jackson muttered soft reassurances, knees cracking as he sat on the bathroom floor next to him.

“Are you coming down with something?” Jackson held back East’s hair as he dry heaved, spitting bile.

“No. ‘m fine. Go back to bed - ” East gagged again, face ashen as he breathed through the nausea with a whimper.

“You don’t seem fine.” Jackson started to rub small circles on his husband’s back, watching him with worried eyes. “…you’re shaking, love.”

“ ‘s just a bad - a bad dream. Go back to bed. I’ll - let me clean up quick…” East trailed off, still breathless as he looked helplessly at his partner. Jackson’s concerned expression only deepened.

“…do you wanna talk about it?” He leaned against his husband’s shoulder, arms wrapped around him as East wiped his mouth with a wad of toilet paper.

“Not really.” East’s voice was tight as he relaxed back against Jackson. His words were hoarse and soft. “…I killed them.”

Jackson’s expression was soft, eyes damp. It had been years since his partner had brought up that fateful day. He doubted East would ever stop blaming himself for what happened at the Holloway House.

“That wasn’t your fault, East - ”

“Not - before. When - when I was Wolf.” He spat the name with venom, but Jackson could hear the vein of fear and regret in the tremor of his voice.

Jackson stayed quiet, hands wandering to rub East’s shoulders, kisses planted at the base of his neck as he nuzzled against his husband.

“…I killed so many - I didn’t count. It was a blur until - until - ” Jackson leaned away, automatically holding East’s hair back as he wretched again, stomach empty. He croaked with a sob, voice raw. “It - it was my idea - I - he wanted me to - to - I couldn’t so I - I - I - ”

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, love.” Jackson hummed softly, wiping spit from East’s face with another handful of toilet paper. “…but I’m here, if you want to tell someone.”

East sobbed, sniffling as he turned away from the toilet to bury his face against Jackson’s chest.

“…he wanted me to fuck them.” East breathed, chest shuddering as he curled his arms around Jackson. “And I didn’t want to so I - I had to figure out something he - that would be just as - I didn’t want to hurt them.”

“I know. I know you didn’t, love.”

“It - it seemed like - like mercy. At the time. But I - I can still hear - the screams aren’t even what I remember it - that dog it just - ” He shivered, quiet for some time as he sobbed against his husband. “…I didn’t know a rabid dog would…I knew it would kill him, I - I knew he - it wasn’t - I didn’t want to. I - I shouldn’t have but I don’t - I can’t - ”

“It wasn’t your fault, love - ”

“It was. It was and I - ” East was shaking, words choppy and choked. “I chose - it was my choice. I - I chose - selfish - my choice. My fault.”

“It wasn’t.” Jackson held him tighter, voice firm. “You shouldn’t have had to make that choice. You shouldn’t have been there. They shouldn’t have been there. The people who put you in that situation, put them in that situation - it’s their fault. Not yours.”

East still trembled in his arms, minutely shaking his head. Words were too far from him now, Jackson knew. So he continued to whisper reassurances, holding his husband safely in his arms.

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. And if it was - it doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t change the past. Doesn’t change the present. I love you, East. It wasn’t your fault.”

Jackson didn’t know if East believed him. He hoped he did.

Masterpost / Previous / Next

(Part of my Freelancers series)

Taglist: @stargeode @sacredwrath @genuineformality

[queermentaldisaster]

“There's a Revolution Coming”, part three of “The Devil Made Me Do It; But I Also Kinda Wanted To”.

First thing's first. If you read this on AO3, please, please, please pay attention to the tags. I will add sufficient warnings for each chapter here as well, but this is very much a Dead Dove fic. What you see is what you get. So please, proceed with caution when you see the tws/tags.

Tags: @forestshadow-wolf @axelaxolotl09 @im-here-and-im-confused @bringinsexybackk69 @rainerestored @8-rae-rae-8 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist please inform me)

(Possible) tw: Children in captivity, mental breakdown, mentions of torture and mind control, discrimination towards demons, and implied child abuse. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 1 under the cut.

The helo landed, and Mirror grabbed Soap's bound wrists and began dragging him towards the military base. Soap's eyes trailed upwards, and his eyes narrowed. With the amount of security around this place, it reminded him of a castle. He looked back down, taking a deep breath. ‘Och, poor Si…he's probably terrified right now and masking it with anger…’ he thought. His thoughts were on Ghost, even as Mirror dragged him through the base. Then, he looked up, and saw just how many demons were here. More than a thousand. The rest must've come from all over the world, then. ‘How many demons did Meister break?’ Soap thought, as his mind drifted back to a conversation Ghost and him had while he was still recovering.

“You know, Meister tortured us to make us weak to mind control.” Ghost murmured. Soap's head snapped up from his sketchbook. “Mind control?” He asked. Ghost nodded. “Affirmative.” He brought his hand up to his neck. “He’d collar us, then attack us. He saw us as nothing more than tools.” Ghost's wings tightened around himself. Soap's eyes softened and he touched Ghost's hand. “Yer so much more than a tool to me, Simon. Yer as alive as the rest of us.” he murmured. Ghost looked back at Soap and his eyes spoke volumes. “Thanks, Johnny.”

A tear rolled down Soap's cheek. God, he hoped Ghost was looking for him. He was scared.

Mirror dragged him into a room, shoving him in and locking the door behind him. Soap fell to the floor, and knelt there, his hands clenched into fists. He let the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, as he tried not to sob. He was in the lion's den and all alone. Too weak to fight against demons and vampires and…whatever Shepard was. God, he'd never wished for anything, not even to be a monster…but now, he was cursing his human heritage. ‘Ah’m useless. Cannae even save maself, much less love Simon how he wants.’ He bit his tongue. ‘Ah’m pathetic. Fought tooth ‘n nail ta get where ah was, and now ah'm here. In an empty room, captured, unable to save maself.’ A sob escaped from the gag, and the dam broke. He curled up, sobbing.

•✧-----------------------------------✧•

He didn't know how long had passed, and he didn't care. He'd managed to get the gag out at some point, and he was now staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles. “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six-” He was interrupted by the door flying open. Graves was standing there, his eyes narrowed. “Do you ever shut up!?” He snapped. Soap sat up, placing his bound wrists on his knees. “Ya ken, Graves, ye have a really bad track record with kidnapping. Twice in two months. Ghost isnae goin’ tae be happy with this.”

Graves's eyes narrowed. “I do not care what that beast thinks. He's nothing more than an animal, a tool to use as we see fit. He doesn't have feelings, he can't.” Soap's eyes narrowed. “...” He lunged at Graves, only to be tackled by one of the other demon guards. Graves's eyes narrowed. “Take him to the little room.” The demon nodded and dragged Soap off as Soap screamed his head off at Graves, in pure rage.

The demon threw Soap in another room, this one with three beds, and paper strewn around the room. He hit the ground roughly, and he let out a groan. He felt hands grab his binds and he almost struck the person…until he looked ahead…and saw a child with pale tannish skin, her right eye being a purple color, her left eye being a pink color, blonde hair, and tiny red horns. “Evelyn! He could be a threat!” came a voice. He turned his head and saw a girl, no older than fourteen, shielding a smaller boy. The girl had light grayish pinkish-purple hair, her right eye being orange and her left eye being a dark grayish magenta color. She had a burn scar by her right eye, and she had horns of a dull gold color that curved like a ram's. Soap looked around, spotting two other kids. His heart sank.

[whumpshaped]

For fluff prompts, maybe some casual vulnerability from whumpee with caretaker, either when they were previously unable to or when it’s commonplace. And/or parallel play

@strawberry-whump

tw stoic whumpee breaking down, past trauma, past torture, nightmares, emotional whump

"Well, maybe I'm not fine. Maybe I'm not." Whumpee turned around, cloth still in hand. They had been wiping down the counters when Caretaker asked them how they were feeling and proceeded to press them on it after the initial response. "What now?"

Caretaker didn't seem bothered by the cynicism. "That's a start. That's something. You've been giving me nothing for the past months. I want to help you, but I can't help someone who's perfectly fine."

Whumpee nodded, like that was a reasonable thought. "Okay. So, what now?"

"Ideally, you'd tell me about your problems."

"Hm." Whumpee looked down at the cloth in their hands, contemplating. "Well, ideally. Ideally you wouldn't pester me about it. But," they went on before Caretaker could've cut in, "I know you're relentless. Don't worry. I kinda realised that after the first three weeks."

Caretaker slowly leaned back against the wall, giving them more space. They stayed quiet. No encouragement. No judgement either.

"I've been having nightmares," they blurted out. "About all the whippings and group tortures. The blood. I keep waking up with the– the smell of it in my nose. The taste of it in my mouth." They put the cloth on the counter and met Caretaker's compassionate gaze again, their own neutral and unfazed. "There you have it."

"I'm sorry you're going through that," they said gently, and Whumpee barked out a laugh.

"I'm sure you are. Now that that's settled, I think–" As Caretaker moved closer, they immediately cut themself off. Were they about to try to hug them? "Stay where you are. You hear me? Don't turn this into something– something it's not."

They didn't want it. And yet as Caretaker closed the distance between them, they couldn't will themself to move. Their embrace was tight, warm, and full of... love. They told themself they'd just let Caretaker hug it out, but before they knew it, they were clinging to them just as tight.

"I'm so sorry, Whumpee," they repeated, and this time, it opened the floodgates.

They broke down sobbing, as if they'd just been given permission for the first time in years. But who even held the permission? Whumper? Caretaker? Themself? Who was the one making them bottle it all up?

"It's never gonna get any better," they cried desperately, so grateful that Caretaker was keeping them upright. They felt like the weight of the world was sliding off their shoulders; the same weight that had kept their broken pieces so tightly compressed that they had no chance of coming apart. "I thought it would, I– I thought– I thought it'd go away–"

Caretaker held them for minutes, eventually lowering both of them to the kitchen floor, gently cradling their friend. "I know," they whispered. "I know it's hard. I know. We'll get through it."

Whumpee had their doubts. But in the haze of their breakdown, for just a couple blissfully dizzy moments, they wanted to believe that it was true.

~

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

[chopper-base]

Plan 99

Day 5 of @tbb-appreciation-week (which yes, I know im very late to)

Summary: Tech finds himself alive but in the empires hands. Extremely injured and alone, he can only hope his brothers managed to escape as he fights to escape with the help of a brother long lost.

Warnings: mentions of torture and death, hurt/comfort, Crosshair needs a kriffin vacation.

Prompts: Crosshair, Whump, Hiding face in neck, "I'll keep you safe"

Chpt1 | Chpt2

Chapter 2

Crosshair awoke to a sharp ache, a pained groan slipping past his lips. He took a shaky breath, a migraine quickly forming. It was no surprise when he realized he couldn’t move, restraints tightly bound over his wrists and ankles. He knew it was only a matter of time before Hemlock or one of his assistants noticed he had regained consciousness. It was a hellish routine. Every second the sniper was awake, he was being probed and prodded, a rat for them to use however they pleased.

“Crosshair?” A small voice whispered his name and Crosshair hoped to the Maker he was hallucinating. “Crosshair, it’s Omega. Can you hear me?”

Maker, kriff it all…

He forced his eyes open a crack, looking out of the corners of his eyes to see two very young and tear filled eyes staring back at him. The young girl's hair was longer than he had last seen it, hanging down just above her shoulders. Small bruises littered her face and neck, a hint of blood staining the collar of her shirt. Crosshair couldn't stop the seething anger that came over him as his eyes scanned over every scrape and bruise on her skin.

He opened his mouth to speak, wincing at the pain it caused but he forced himself to look his little sister in the eye, "...Who did this to you?"

She forced a small smile onto her face, reaching up and setting her hand gently on his bicep. "I'm okay, Crosshair."

If he wasn't strapped to this damn table, Crosshair he was sure he was gonna murder whoever the unfortunate soul was that stepped into this room next. The sniper was never one for physical contact but he wanted nothing more than to hold the terrified child next to him. He looked around, surveying the room, noticing the two were strangely alone. "Where's the rest of the batch?" He asked, hating how his own voice scratched out of his throat.

Omega's face fell, tears beginning to collect in the corners of her eyes. "Hunter and Wrecker escaped but…" Her voice broke, the tears rolling down her bruised cheeks. "Tech… he…" the choked sob that escaped her lips was enough for the sniper to realize what she meant.

He desperately searched her face for some sort of lie. Tech couldn't be dead. They had survived so much. He couldn't…

"Omega." He said as calmly as he could muster. "What happened to Tech?"

She couldn't look him in the eye, holding his arm like a lifeline. "We got- we got your message. Tech convinced Hunter to… to look for you. He- we were stuck on a rail car and was just hanging. We tried to pull him up! But he- he shot the connector and- I'm sorry!" She sobbed, her grip on his arm tightening.

Plan 99… Tech had sacrificed himself to save his brothers. Crosshair squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay. He looked back at Omega, choked sobs racking her small frame.

"Omega." He said softly. "Do you know if anyone is outside this room?"

Omega finally met his gaze, shaking her head. "I don't think so. They locked the door and left me in here. Nala Se convinced them to let me see you."

Crosshair glanced down at his restrained body before looking back up at the girl. "You think you could get these restraints off?"

Omega scanned over his body before nodding, freeing his head first before moving down. Her face scrunched in concentration as she fiddled with the controls for the metal cuffs restraining his arms and legs. A small smile worked its way onto her face as the cuffs snapped open, freeing the sniper completely.

He lifted his arms slowly, rubbing his sore wrists before slowly sitting up. Omega put a supporting hand on his back as he swung his legs over the side of the table. He knew they didn't have much time but he took a precious second to pull the child into an embrace which she gladly accepted. He pulled away, lowering himself to the floor, grabbing the table to keep himself from falling as his legs shook under his weight. Omega held onto his hip, helping steady him, her eyes locked on his. He looked around the room again, looking for anything he could use as a makeshift weapon, his eyes landing on a shelf stocked with different tools. He recognized every one as Hemlock had used everyone on him at some point during his unfortunate stay in this hell hole. He slowly made his way over the shelf, grabbing the electrocution rod, flipping it on and watched the electricity dance along the end before switching it back off. He turned to Omega who was watching him intently. "The next person to walk through that door is going to have a very bad day." That got the small smile to return to her face.

The sound of the lock disengaging had the sniper quickly crossing the room, standing against the wall next to the door. The door hissed opened, and two TK troopers stepped in, their gaze fixed on Omega. The first one dropped with a grunt, the other barely able to turn to see the sniper before he too lay in a heap on the floor. Crosshair quickly picked up one of their blasters, turning the stun off before handing it to Omega and grabbing the other, doing the same. "Stay behind me and shoot when I tell you too." He instructed, peeking out of the room to see an empty hallway. Omega remained glued to him, peeking out from beside him with a death grip on the blaster in her hands. It was almost cute to see such a small child holding a blaster but he was reminded of that dreadful day when the batch first fled Kamino. When that same child expertly shot his firepuncher out of his hands. He knew she had no blaster training and yet she made that perfect shot. He knew there was something special about this kid, he just didn't quite know what it was yet.

He made his way down the hall, making sure Omega never left his side, listening closely for any footsteps or alarms but the hall remained silent. Too silent for the snipers taste.

Finally, those dreadful footsteps began to echo down that damned hallway, forcing Crosshair to pull Omega into the closest door. He had snaked his arm behind her back, lifting her up enough to press the child against his chest as he slammed the door controls. The door hissed shut, both clones holding their breath as they heard thundering footsteps echoing down the hall. They were alone in the room, the lights dimmed as far as they could go leaving the two in near darkness. The blaster was still gripped tightly in Omega's small hand, her other hand made its way around his neck. She made no move to get Crosshair to put her down, holding tightly to the sniper. The footsteps faded letting them both finally breathe. Omega turned slightly, her face burying into the side of his neck.

He could feel her begin to shake, her other arm wrapping around the other side of his neck. He lowered them both down, his knees landing on the cool metal floor. Her feet were still barely touching the ground as he held her tightly, unable to bring himself to let her go. "It's ok, ad'ika." He whispered into her ear. "I'll keep you safe. I promise."

She pulled back, her feet finally flat on the floor. Her gaze met his, tears brimming her brown eyes. A small smile decorated her face as she looked at her brother.

Crosshair forced himself to return the small gesture, trying to keep the child as calm as he could. He finally broke his gaze away, looking closer at the room they had taken refuge in. The room was basically empty. All that stood in there was a small control station and what looked to be three bacta tanks. Crosshair's breath caught in his throat as his gaze met the face of the man suspended in the first tank. Omega turned, searching for what the sniper had noticed and it was clear the moment she did.

"...Tech?"

Tag list!! (Let me know if you'd like to be added!!)

@rain-on-kamino @idoubleswearimawriter @staycalmandhugaclone @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kalykat

[suspensefulpen]

Whumpuary Day 30: Aftermath

TW: Past Torture, Captivity, Bad Caretaker and Character Deaths

@whumpuary

Whumpee sat on the chair underneath the shade of the porch awning. Seeing pure greenery around them was refreshing. They loved to be outside. It made them feel at ease, less boxed in. They felt a reason to smile. All of the pretty flowers blooming around them made them hopeful about the future.

They remembered seeing all those same flowers years ago. When they were broken and without a home or a soul to care about them. When they had to bring themself up from the ground where they’d spent a huge part of their life. It never seemed to get better. They met two people who they believed would be the people that would bring light into their life.

It turned out that Whumpee judged incredibly wrong. Nothing would ever make them forget about Whumper and Caretaker. They were the most sadistic humans Whumpee had ever met. After showing their true colors, Whumper took their time in hurting them. The pain came either slow and dull or quick and sharp. There was never an in between. Then they met Caretaker, who after some time, was quickly revealed to be a fake working with Whumper. Whumpee had to admit, the way Caretaker had tricked them into believing they were genuine was actually quite smart.

For several months, there was a huge back and forth between the two, arguing and even hurting each other just to get to Whumpee and break them in any way possible. And now, several years later after their deaths, the memories still linger in Whumpee’s mind today. The road to recovery had been long. And painful even. But now Whumpee was happy, thriving and healthy. While they still weren’t fully healed from their trauma yet, they knew that someday they’d be like all the pretty flowers that grew in their garden.

Bold, happy and free.

[fallenwhumpee]

For the prompt, I have an idea ig.. Maybe public humiliation? Like being strung up, for the public to see, their hero or maybe their rebel leader along with two teammates, just how much power the oppressive force has and show the people what happens to people who try to rebel but they dont back down and maybe the rest of team rescues them? And right before leaving the three who were caught and tortured for the public to see let them know that the resistance never quits?

Hehe lemme know what you think!🐈‍⬛💜💜

Ooh this is awesome. I love it. So, here, have my try <3

The Show

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Public torture, humiliation, forced to watch, restrains, multiple whumpees, mentioned execution, mentioned past torture, open ending.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Fear was hardening their every muscle, their hands behind the stretching the metal cuffs digging into their skin. But the source of fear wasn't about the execution scheduled.

It was about the two lifes they were locked up with, and many more they were going to leave behind.

A part of them told that this was a sacrifice. The much needed trigger to finally make the public know about the torment people lived through outside of the capital. But that part was also angry that the people were too blind to see, blind enough to come and watch their execution like watching a movie.

That part was being overwhelmed by their grief. Grief of many deaths at the hand of the government.

All of that was still not enough to take over their fear.

They feared that the rebellion would suffer through this. They feared that the idea they fought for would be lost. They feared that people would obsess with it and become extremists— just as the resistance before them had become after losing their leader.

It would cost them the little sympathy they had. It would cost their— their family's sanity.

Right Hand would mock them forever for going soft if they had learned Leader called them a family.

But they no longer had the energy to lie to themselves. They no longer needed to protect themselves from the heartbreak that would come with the death of their close circle. They were dying before them. Their prayers for not seeing any of their team's death was accepted.

They tried the cuffs once more, a hand stopping them.

"You tried," Rebel One whispered. "Don't hurt yourself. It won't work."

"If I ever gave up when it—"

A guard shoved them to the wall, cutting their muttering.

"Don't speak."

"What about trying this after opening my binds?" They snarled.

"Leader!" Rebel Two hissed.

"And get a hole on my forehead like you? Thank you, but I value my life."

They couldn't hold back a laughter, the other two eyeing them with worry.

"And we're being run over by the government because of the fools like you. Have you ever thought that you shouldn't fear while you're doing your job?" they countered as their laughter died down.

The guard grew silent, and Leader turned to the other two.

"I think I can open your cuffs," they whispered.

Leader would die to protect the lit on the duo's eyes. They reminded Leader much of themselves with their sibling.

Their sibling, who was their trigger for standing up

They didn't want to think about that open wound, placing themselves in front of Rebel One as they reached to the cuffs. At least the duo had their hands at front, so it looked like they were just bundling up together.

One last time, Leader thought. They would get the duo out, but they weren't so sure about themselves.

It wasn't important.

It was hard to lift the plate covering the lock mechanism, but Leader's was determined. The two clicks were enough to assure Leader, the duo smiling as they placed the cuffs back like nothing happened.

"I want you to run when we get out of the vehicle."

"We're not—

"We're in no position to argue. And we all know the cuffs have a tracker inside. I won't risk your rescue."

"Still, we're not leaving you. You're our leader."

"And as your leader, I order you to run when you find the chance."

They still looked ready to protest, but Leader shot them a harsh look.

"Good."

The vehicle stopped soon after, the guard outside opening their cell and the one in targeting their weapon to Leader's back.

It would be a huge mistake if Leader didn't have their hands tied.

They sighed and motioned the others with a nod.

As soon as they stepped down to the concrete floor, they slammed their elbow to one of the guardians' stomach, the other motioning to them.

It was a mistake when there were multiple captives.

Keeping the attention on themselves, they managed to slam their head and break the nose of the guard that slammed them to the wall before. They were brought to their knees as a gun was slammed to their neck, their vision blurring for a moment.

"Did you really think that we wouldn't have a security around here? You only annoyed us more," Whumper chirped, throwing the two right in front of Leader.

A hitched breath escaped their lips.

"One would think a rat like you wouldn't have feelings. Where were they as you bombed and killed dozens of my people?"

No. Leader didn't attack to mere places. And people who weren't in mere places weren't very innocent.

Whumper pulled Leader from their collar. Leader was a lot shorter than them, and they were soon standing on their tips.

"I will enjoy the show you'll put up."

Leader could only snarl as they were dragged to somewhere else, the grunts of the duo following them. Their struggle was useless, their starved and unused body failing them in mere seconds.

"No one should realise that the nuisance they're dealing is just a mosquito buzzing at dark. Where's that sharp tongue of yours? You were more fun when we were gambling with the lives of our little pawns."

Their veins flared with anger as Whumper taunted them until they were brought to their knees under blinding lights. They squinted their burning eyes, their bones aching as Whumper pressed them down.

"Today I present you the murderer of many of our soldiers."

The crowd roared. Leader watched Whumper enjoy the attention before demanding silence with raising their hand. They turned to Leader, a wide and disgusting smile on their face.

"Your little rebellion dies with you tonight."

Leader's eyes finally succeeded to see the faces in the crowd, seeking a glimmer of understanding or empathy. Instead, they were met with cold stares and eager anticipation. The realization hit them like a physical blow—alone, vulnerable, and surrounded by the people either too afraid or brainwashed.

"You can kill me, but you can't shut the voices of reason," they just stared at Whumper. Whumper leaned on them a little, chuckling a little.

"I wish you had a microphone, but I couldn't risk you spreading your plague. Now tell it again."

"I said," they raised their voice but Whumper didn't let them finish, punching their face and sending them to the floor.

Leader spat blood onto the cold concrete, tasting the metallic bitterness. The crowd gasped, witnessing this for the first time.

Leader could perhaps go along with the show if they could show who actually was holding the strings of the government. And they had quite an image to destroy, Whumper's media experts were the best. But they didn't get much chance to do that.

Whumper didn't stop with a punch.

Kicks and hits targeted their openings, pain clouding their thoughts as their bones ached with each hit.

Whumper leaned in, whispering but spatting every word, "Your words mean nothing. You'll be forgotten, and your rebellion will die with you. Like a body with no head, it will crumble, and I will burn it down to ashes."

"They stood without me before," Leader wheezed as Whumper pulled them back to their knees.

"I was too busy with having fun with you that time. But without you in the frame, they will get all the attention. They deserve, don't they?"

"You don't dare."

"I'll enjoy every second of it."

With their body fueled by anger, they slammed their head to Whumper's mouth, causing them to stumble.

"You're weak," Leader panted as they stood. "You are nothing without the fear. And I don't fear you."

As the crowd watched in stunned silence, Whumper regained composure, wiping away the blood from their mouth.

"I dragged this out long enough," Whumper growled, drawing a dagger. "The sentence for disobedience is death. And your death will be an example for many."

Two guards forced them down, bending their arm and bowing their head.

"Severing your head would be kindness," Whumper came closer, stopping for a moment before striking with the dagger.

Leader gasped, unable to pull back as pain dug deeper.

Protests rose, the noise blending into the chaos of their own consciousness fading. But pain and shouts and tears and everything meant nothing.

Because they knew rebellion would move on, with Right Hand rushing to the stage and Rebel One disarming the guard holding them.

It was a good show. And Leader believed that the show would go on.

"They aren't taking you alive."

They felt the dagger crush their ribs as Whumper twisted it up, their breaths dying and body crumbling while Whumper pulled it back.

Their eyes closed with a smile on their face.