#prompt: trust issues

[serickswrites]

Crime

Warnings: betrayal, stabbing, blood, wounds, trust issues, fade to black, guns, mention of murder, knife

Whumpee walked into the warehouse Friend had asked to meet them at. They weren't sure why Friend wanted to meet them there or what Friend had to show them, but they were more than willing to meet them. That's what friends do after all.

They froze as they walked through the door. This was wrong. This was all wrong. They opened their mouth to call out, ready to run, but a blinding, sharp pain in their back stopped them. The pain radiated through their body.

Whumpee's trembling legs began to give out, but strong arms wrapped around them keeping them from falling. "Isn't this amazing," Friend Whumper breathed into their ear.

Whumpee's head was swimming. The warehouse was filled with various stolen goods, guns, and other instruments of crime. What had Friend done? "H-H-Horrifffffyinnnnnnggg," Whumpee managed to stammer out.

"Ah-Ah, none of that, Whumpee," Whumper said, tightening their grip on Whumpee. "I want you to understand exactly why I brought you here."

Whumpee opened their mouth to protest, but Whumper twisted the knife in their side. Whumpee screamed their pain, their world whiting out.

"The police are on their way. They'll be here any minute."

"C-C-Catchhhh........yyyyou-ou-ou-ou," Whumpee gasped. They could feel their blood flowing down their back. The police had to arrive in time to save them. They just had to.

"That's where you come in my friend. The warehouse is in your name. Everything here is in your name. You stole all these things. You used these guns to kill all those people. You, Whumpee. Not me."

Whumpee didn't have the energy to be horrified. Didn't have the energy to scream their anger and horror. They barely had the energy to keep their eyes open.

"And the best part is," Whumper said excitedly, "I'll get the credit for catching you. For stopping you. Isn't that a wonderful thing?"

"NNNNNN," Whumpee managed to whisper. Their head was swimming and everything was becoming hazier and hazier.

"Don't worry, Whumpee. I'll be sure to visit you in jail. I'm sure they're going to be finding evidence of your crimes for years to come."

Whumpee heard the sound of approaching sirens. Heard the sound and hoped the police would see Whumper for what they were. Hoped that they would be saved. They hoped all of these things, but realized it didn't matter. Their tenuous grip on consciousness wasn't enough to keep them awake. As they slipped into oblivion, they hoped that someone would see Whumper for the monster that they were. And that they wouldn't pay for Whumper's crimes.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[whumpster-dumpster]

Love it when Whumpee is in a vulnerable/suggestible state and the whumper uses a facade of a person they trust to convince them to do something that person would Never actually want them to do

[questions-about-blorbos]

This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[unforgivenn]

Traumatized whumpees!!!

I absolutely adore when whumpee they're just so.. so traumatized that they think they're just so so scared of every single thing around them. Whumper has broken them so deep that they don't even know what to believe now and what not to. Fear is the only thing they know. Even after being rescued.

Like just look at this

The whumpee huddled in the corner of the dimly lit room, their knees drawn up to their chest, trembling with fear. Each creak of the floorboards sent shivers down their spine, and every flicker of the dying candle intensified their sense of impending doom. They knew escape was futile, trapped in the clutches of their merciless whumper. Tears streaked down their dirt-streaked cheeks as they prayed for a sliver of hope to pierce through the darkness.

Bonus points if they don't believe Caretaker that they're Actually safe. How could they be anyways? After everything Whumper had made them go through how could they ever believe anyone? They're all lying. All of them. Just to laugh at whumpee once he actually believes them.

[moonlight-stalker]

# 29 dcxdp

Danny is being fostered by Bruce Wayne he would be very grateful for it if the Wayne family did not work with the Justice League and only took him in to get information

[moonlight0934]

Trust Issues

Damian watches through half open eyes as his family eats breakfast around him. He keeps his guard up, a feeling of anxiety and immanent threat choking him. He hasn’t slept in days, the smallest noise snapping him back to full awareness. Bruce looks over at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Why aren’t you eating, Damian?”

“I am,” Damian immediately lies.

Bruce looks confused at that, because of how obviously not true it is. Damian puts a singular piece of strawberry from his fruit salad into his mouth. Then he stands up, slipping out of his chair.

“Come on, Damian. We’re doing so good this morning. Tim is even eating.”

“Father, Tim agreed because he’s still asleep. He was eating, then he fell asleep with his bite of eggs half out of his mouth.”

Bruce turns to Tim, who is in fact asleep with his spoon only half in his mouth.

“Tim, dear, you’re going to choke,” Bruce says, taking the spoon out of his mouth.

Tim startles, pulling back.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

Damian slips out of the room while Bruce is reoccupied with Tim. He heads up to his room to get dressed for school, though that’s the last thing he wants to do right now. He sighs as he walks into his room to grab his uniform. It’s only a few minutes before he’s coming back down the stairs, and heading for the door. Damian can hear Bruce trying to get Tim to fully wake up so he doesn’t fall face first into his eggs.

Damian walks out without letting anyone know that he’s leaving since someone will insist on driving him to school. The walk is quiet, though that’s only because it’s so early that no one with good intentions is out right now. Most kids aren’t allowed to walk, that’s why Damian usually isn’t either. It’s not that they don’t know he can take care of himself, but they have appearances to keep up. They have to look like they’re prissy rich kids, though Damian hates how he has to act every time he leaves the house without being in costume.

A few of the small time muggers eye him as he’s walking past, but his glare is enough to put them off till he gets past them. It’s still quiet as the light manages to get past the clouds, lightening the sky. Damian keeps his hands in his pockets.

The school is empty too since he’s early. The teachers are the only ones there, and they all seem surprised to see him as they pass him in the halls. He heads straight to the cafeteria to wait on everyone else to show up. It’s quiet, so he pulls out his drawing pad and colored pencils.

A feeling of apprehension creeps up on him even though he’s alone, almost as if something is going to jump out of the shadows. After a few minutes, Damian jumps to his feet. He looks around wildly, but doesn’t see anything. He darts out of the exit attached to the cafeteria, leaving his bag, and not even sure where he’s going.

His vision starts going in and out, his hearing cutting out completely. He redirects himself to head back home, but doesn’t even get a few feet before passing out. When he wakes up, he can’t recognize where he is. It looks like a booth of some sort. People are talking right outside.

“Man, it sure took a long time for that toxin to kick in. We had to follow him for almost eight days,” one complains.

“He was in his house for a lot of that time, shut up,” another replies, sounding annoyed.

“Still, you’d think it wouldn’t be that useless. That’s a long time.”

Damian blinks, looking down. He’s zip tied to a chair, rope wrapped around his wrists and fingers on top of the zip ties.

Someone kidnapped me? They gassed me with some sort of toxin? That must be why I was feeling the way that I was.

He pulls one hand out of the ropes with a smug grin.

Now, time to get out of here discreetly so as not to ruin my secret identity. I need to call in backup.

He pulls the other one out, then begins taking the zip ties off of his wrists.

As long as I don’t get caught, I should have no issue with this. Even if they think I escaped somehow, I could still come back in costume with my family. However, there’s only one door.

Damian walks over to the door, feeling much heavier than he normally does. He cracks the door open soundlessly. It’s dark outside, but it’s not hard for him to tell that they’re in an abandoned amusement park. The Ferris Wheel is looming over the buildings, stalls, and shut down attractions.

The guards are less than a foot away from the door, still distracted with their conversation. Damian slips out of the doorway, making a beeline for the next attraction. He makes it there without incident, giving him time to look for his emergency beacon. Luckily it’s there, still tucked into the heel of his shoe.

He clicks it before straightening back up. Then someone grabs him by the collar. A large man shakes Damian. He almost punches the man in the throat, but remembers why he can’t in just enough time to pull back. The man punches him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He feels the man throw him towards the two guards that were watching him originally.

One of them kicks him in the face immediately. This goes on for a while as they take turns hitting him while he just has to lie there and take it. Eventually he tastes blood coming up his throat, and at this point, he’s not even sure where it’s coming from. Though it doesn’t really matter if he’s throwing it up or coughing it up, either one is pretty bad.

I wonder what they wanted. They sure did do a lot to just kill me.

Someone stomps down on his fingers, breaking them. He doesn’t let out a single noise.

That’s probably why they’re still going. I haven’t screamed or cried like this is a big deal. I wonder if they’re going to figure out how badly I’m already hurt.

It’s only a minute later when exactly that happens.

“Hey, I think you’re going too far. He has to be alive to use him for ransom,” the second man calls, sounding worried. He also sounds far away, and Damian doesn’t feel like listening anymore.

A few more sounds bring him back from the edge, even if just a little bit. It sounds like a scuffle of some sort. Then someone grabs his head, startling him. He cracks his eyes open, seeing Dick above him. He’s in costume, his mask covering his eyes.

“Hey, Baby Bird. Just hold on, we’re going to get you to a hospital. You’ll be ok.”

“You came,” Damian whispers, blinking his heavy eyes.

“What do you mean? Of course we did. Don’t you trust us?”

Damian doesn’t respond, letting his eyes drop closed.

“No, Damian, open your eyes!”

Dick shakes his shoulders, but everything continues to fade. He doesn’t feel it as Dick keeps shaking him, and eventually stops hearing him too. Then nothing.

[skyward-floored]

Me: okay I’m going to actually work on figuring out ideas for other whumptober days, I will succeed I will prevail—

Day 2: >:)

[kybercrystals94]

Trusted

Read here on Ao3!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 9 | Prompt 9: Trust Issues

Rated: G | Words: 445 | Summary: The issue of trust…or lack thereof. | Character Focus: Wrecker, Crosshair, Omega 

“Can you hear me? Wrecker?” 

Wrecker groans, the voice - one of his brothers…he can’t tell which one - throbs like a percussion inside his skull. It’s excruciating and soothing all at once. He’s dying, but he’s not alone. He won’t die alone. 

“Stay with me, Wreck, you’re going to be fine,” his brother says. 

His eyes are open, but he only sees darkness, a consuming shroud of a thing. He’s blind, he can’t even see his brother’s face one last time before…

“Dying…” Wrecker croaks. 

His brother scoffs, and he’d know that deprecating sound anywhere. Crosshair. 

“I just told you you’re fine,” Crosshair says, but his voice is reedy. 

“Cross…” Wrecker manages. He reaches out blindly, and thin fingers clasp around his hand, gripping so tight Wrecker wonders if Crosshair thinks it will keep him from falling into the abyss of death. 

“Do you trust me?” Crosshair asks. 

Wrecker swallows around the pain, the fear, the sorrow. He nods, the tiny movement agonizing. 

“Good. Then you’re going to be fine. I promise.” 

Crosshair doesn’t have any sort of cosmic power to keep his word. Wrecker clings to it nonetheless. He trusts his brother to the ends of the galaxy. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Omega curls into Wrecker’s side. She’s grown in the months they’ve been apart. She’s taller, her hair is longer, and her face has lost some of the soft edges that made her look so young. But the light in her eyes has dulled, her expressions have sharpened. She’s seen and experienced things on Tantiss that haunt her and have shaped her. 

“I missed you so much,” Omega whispers. 

Wrecker chuckles brokenly. “I missed you more.”  

Wrecker’s gaze darts to the sniper sleeping in one of the fold down bunks. Almost as soon as Hunter got the Marauder into hyperspace, Crosshair had wilted, as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

The weight of keeping their sister safe.

He’d gotten Omega out of Tantiss when Wrecker and Hunter couldn’t. Omega had given them an abridged version of their escape. She couldn’t have done it without him. Not a chance in sith’s hell. 

“Do you trust him?” Wrecker asks, a rumble of a whisper. He doesn’t have to clarify who. 

Omega twists in his one armed grip, looking up at him so that their eyes meet. “Yes,” she says, her voice soft and confident, no discernible waver of doubt.

Wrecker remembers when he trusted his brother that much, with every last particle in his being. That trust had shattered long ago, but maybe it could be gathered up and rebuilt. Omega trusts him, and Wrecker trusts Omega. Maybe that can be enough for now.

Almost 1/3 of the way through Angstpril! 😱

Prompts Completed:

@the-little-moment (1. Homesick / 4. Longing / 7. Bad Dreams)

@just-here-with-my-thoughts (2. Frozen / 5. Self-Surgery / 8. Lost Battle)

KyberCrystals94 (3. Broken-Hearted / 6. This isn't going to work / 9. Trust Issues)

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @merkitty49

[nana-mizu-shiki]

So this is just a prompt for a second chapter of the fic I just read called Lesson Learned By Blacksheeperton:

Ok, but I have the idea that Cass would come back and notice, but not know what to do. Tim tells Kon and he is PISSED because he understands what Tim is underreacting to, as well as how scared he is of the bats. Kon comes up with a safe word he will listen for for Tim because there is no way he will actually ever use the distress signal unless it was to make the bats believe he will. Tim and Kon end up hanging out as civies and one of the bats (like dick or Jason or something) see them and tries joining them out but Kon is like super protective/passive aggressive. And it keeps happening whenever they see Tim with his friends and they don't know why. Except Cass. Cass knows. Cass knows but doesn't know what to do. (Hold up I am rolling. And I am rolling fast here-) Jason ends up snapping at Tim's "friends" (Kon or Bart or smth) and asking what the he// is up when they're just trying to be nice to their little brother's "friends". Then they snap back. Saying about how Kon was right and Tim should've left them long ago for all the sh¡t they put him through. That Tim shouldn't have been so complacent when pretending he didn't know they want him dead. That they should've tried harder to help Tim realize that feeling unsafe and unwanted isn't something he should feel is a constant and will always be. That they should've helped him the first time one of the bats tried to ki// him. After the tower. After Bruce's disappearance. After the new Robin came. After they started giving him lessons like his bio parents. And just- the batfamily finding out just how truly little Tim thinks they care. How he feels he can never trust. That he never even considered that Bruce could ever think of him as one of his sons. And Tim... he just stands there like he knew all of this. Like it was normal. That he was only annoyed that the plan he was using wouldn't work now that they knew he knew. It's fine though. Tim always has contingencies for his contingencies. Even contingencies for those. It's fine. Red Robin will just work alone. Like Red Hood did. He'll take up Kon's offer lightly and let them help him while staying in Gotham. He'll deal with the Bats trying to ki// him just like he deals with everyone else who has tried. Make them think they win. Make them think he's fallen for the lies. Let them get close. Pull the rug from right under them. Although this time will be a little different -Gotham wouldn't survive without the Bat after all- there are many ways to pull the same trick. He's not just Red Robin After all. He's Timothy Jackson Drake. And he's played this game since he was a toddler. He'll let you get uno before stacking four +4 cards and winning with two red +2's. He'll trap you with the contraption you made. Let you hurt him before revealing everything you've done to those you cherish most. Turn you into a monster to everyone and yourself. Because well.... That's just how it works. How it always has. He Won't Lose. He's Learned His Lesson

[whumpster-dumpster]

When Whumpee's loved ones learn something new, some secret or vulnerability or maybe even something that should have been common knowledge about them while Whumpee is mind controlled by Whumper. The implications that Whumpee is more open with an enemy while under duress than they can be with them

[whumperwithwings]

Whumptober Day 2

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

Caretaker stormed into Whumpee's hospital room, arguing with an orderly as they slammed the door open.

"Whumpee! Why didn't you tell me that you were going into the woods this late? You know I would have picked you up. Now look at you, in the hospital. You even ruined your coat!" Caretaker exclaimed, shaking their head in disappointment while Whumpee glanced away.

"You didn't pick me up before." Whumpee's response, while short and curt, was undeniably correct. Caretaker could vividly remember not picking up the phone when Whumpee had called, late at night, looking for a ride to avoid the dangerous forest around their house.

"I know, I'm sorry Whumpee, but can't you please trust me? I'll try to do better next time. I promise."

[whump-or-whatever]

Imagining a Whumpee who is rescued by a Caretaker who they’d never met before. As soon as they’re safe Whumpee is just waiting for Caretaker to tell them they’re on their own or pass them off to be someone else’s problem. Meanwhile, Caretaker is expecting Whumpee to want to go off and do their own thing at some point. They both know that they have no real obligation to each other. So both of them are waiting for the other to leave while secretly hoping they won’t.

Just that angsty lack of communication and fear of getting their hopes up just to be let down, probably a result of both Whumpee and Caretaker having trust and self-esteem issues. Yeahhh.

[pixiestickie]

also jamiazu prompt fr u to talk abt: who do u think kissed the other first. how do u think their first kiss played out

RUBS MY EVIL HANDS LIKE AN EVIL MOSQUITO ON A SUMMER MORNING

okay so ill get to the point my awnser is jamil im sorry . i dont know how many people here will agree with this post but i am no longer a coward on tumblr (LIAR)

i mostly feel like this because I can’t picture azul as being straight forward about that sort of thing. i can picture him as meticolously planning and practicing everything beforehand and then just failing miserably because jamil is jamil.

sometimes i think abt how azul never had a friend to socualize with in his childhood (other than the tweels which are FAR from normal friends). if he ever crushed on someone as a kid he 100% never acted out on it because of how insecure he was (and is) with all that bullying he received

also azul is at disadvantage because jamil is always so grumpy around him how is one supposed to know if its ok to kiss this guy without getting punched in the face

the whole thing about jamiazu is that jamil needs to learn how to trust azul (abd actually azul does as well but thats another can of worms that needs its seperate post) which is why i can only see it happen post-book6 jamil

once he learns to overcome his horrifying trust issues induced by his horrible job . thats when he kisses azul ^_^

i really went off topic with this post cuz it was supposed to be about a first kiss but i deserve to wtite paragraphs and be shameless i think

anyway my vision is: they’re hanging out alone in an unplanned place like maybe away from a scarabia party? maybe in the fucking hallways bathrooms away from classes? just not a planned date or anything because i have delusions (i feel like jamil would do it in an unplanned context on purpose). at first they’re just standing there alone with lots of tension, with azul trying to chat like he always does but jamil is deep in thought about how he feels about everything. jamil concludes that he is so tired of depriving himself of what he wants and of holding himself back. that he should go for that kiss because he deserves it ^_^ and azul explodes and dies……. u think about the rest…….

i hope you like my vision i should not be allowed to write crimge when sleep deprived ❤️❤️❤️

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1143

Submitted by @cyborg0109 - thanks!

Whumpee goes into a dangerous situation without backup and finds an ally who is really dangerous but shouldn’t be trusted. The team can’t help whumpee for whatever reason, but can talk to whumpee through coms. Whumpee and ally are fine, but whumpee’s coms broke, and team is worried sick, because what if whumpee got hurt or the ally killed them?

I’ll add: What if the whumpee is hurt, but not by the ally. So when they emerge, tensions are incredibly high, and maybe the all is imprisoned for it. They have to wait for the whumpee to wake up before they learn the truth. 

[gun-roswell]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Clone Force 99 | Bad Batch (Star Wars) Characters: CT-9902 | Tech, CT-9904 | Crosshair, CT-9901 | Hunter, CT-9903 | Wrecker Additional Tags: Neurodivergent CT-9902 | Tech, CT-9902 | Tech-centric, ndtech2024, Neurodivergent Tech Week 2024, Fan Events and Prompts, Team Dynamics, Pre Echo Era, Game Time, Trust Issues, Light Angst Series: Part 4 of Neurodivergent Tech Week Summary:

Tech gets to play a card game with his batch mates. There are some questions though, which are better left unasked.

Fan Event: neurodivergent-tech-week.tumblr.com: DAY 4: “Do you not trust me?“ "Absolutely not. Next question.”

Part of Neurodivergent Tech Week series @neurodivergent-tech-week​

[whumpflash]

Penumbra: Undeserving

for Angstpril, Day 28: Trust Issues (alt)

cw: referenced beatings/abuse/torture, death wish, brief reference/allusion to self harm

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

•§•§•

Even warm and dry, even in a bed for the first time in months, even utterly exhausted, Cerus could not fall asleep. In the time since his fall, not a single person had falsified kindness before hurting him, before taking from him, but nevertheless, Cerus didn't trust the soldier's intentions. He'd never given anyone a reason to love him. Never a reason to extend a hand. And even when asked directly, the soldier wouldn't give him an answer.

What did they want? Every possible reason for their administrations eluded him; beating him didn't require a bed. Taking vengeance in other ways didn't demand his wounds be bandaged. Anything they wanted from him could've simply been seized, be it the boots off his feet or the flesh off his back, and not a soul would bat an eye. Such were the rewards of the damned, and Cerus had come to expect as much. 

There was always the possibility that the soldier wanted more than simple revenge. Perhaps they thought they could access his magic, the lifeblood that had been torn away from him at the trial where he should've been allowed to die. If that were so, the soldier was a bigger fool than he'd thought. In his early days as a slave to the kingdom, when he was at his most desperate, he'd tried to cut away the tattoos the priests had tainted his skin with. He'd despaired to learn it was a fool's errand; they kept coming back.

Even without the black marks of the holy mages, any spell requiring refined movements would be impossible with his ruined hands. He'd been allowed a healer after the trial, so that he could be put to work right away, but the woman who'd done it didn't bother to align bones, or even hold the larger gashes closed, and Cerus was left with ugly scars and uglier hands. Hands that could hardly grasp the tools he was made to use; fingers that still spiked with pain when he tried to curl them.

The soldier hadn't returned yet. Cerus was uncertain how long it had been since they'd closed the door, and as he lay shivering on the mattress, trying to suppress the painful coughs that wracked his body, he wondered if they'd come back at all. Despite their supposed determination to care for him, they didn't seem to enjoy it; hardly looking his way, hardly speaking. Perhaps they were only acting on orders. That would explain some of the situation, but still left the larger question of why unanswered.

He wished they would hurt him and be done with it; the fear of what was to come was worse than any pain they could inflict. At least then he'd know what to expect. A whip, a stick, a fist. Something that left him shaking and bleeding, something easier to understand than a gentle hand.

In spite of those hopes, Cerus still flinched when the door at last swung open. The soldier was back, a steaming bowl in hand.

"My uncle's gone to bed," they said as they crossed the room. "I'd thank you to not start shouting at me again."

Their uncle. Was that who had ordered him brought here? What did he want with him? A ransom, perhaps. Nurse him back to health and sell him to a lord who desired revenge. Cerus was very used to revenge.

At the mines, if a night was particularly dull, workers would pay him a visit. Reminisce about sisters and mothers, lovers and sons, lost to the war. Punish him for it, with whatever they had on hand, and let his screams soothe their grief. He couldn't pretend any of it was undeserved.

"Let me help you sit up," the soldier said. "You'll have an easier time eating if you aren't lying on your stomach."

Cerus didn't respond, but allowed himself to be lifted, wincing as the movement pulled at his damaged back. The feeling there wasn't what it had once been, but pain still found a way to sink its fingers into him.

The soldier propped him against the wall, taking care to avoid the wounded skin, and Cerus once again wondered why they'd bother. Even on orders, their master couldn't fault them for a moment of carelessness. They picked up the bowl then, holding a spoonful of broth to his lips.

"Shell stew," they said. "I'm sure you've had it since coming here."

He hadn't. A thin porridge in the morning, bread and a strip of dried fish at night. Enough to keep him on his feet, for the most part. 

Cerus took the broth, too hungry and exhausted to feel humiliated at the notion of being fed like a babe. Whatever the soldier's plans were for him, refusing food wouldn't help. He hoped the stew was poisoned.

In slow silence, the soldier helped him to empty the bowl; thin, salty broth full of bits of potato and seaweed and a chewy meat that reminded him of the smell of the ocean. He felt warmer after, though shivers still ran through his body.

The soldier rolled him back onto his stomach, then left with the dish, returning moments later with another blanket. They laid it on the floor, parallel with Cerus, and blew out the pair of oil lamps that lit the room; leaving nothing but the faint glow of clouded moonlight from the window.

Were they sleeping on the floor? Had they been commanded to watch over him tonight, so he wouldn't try and run? 

"Wh—?" he started to say, but the shift of air in his throat sparked another coughing fit, driving spikes of pain through his lungs and still-healing ribs.

"I hope you're not about to ask me 'why' again," came the soldier's voice from somewhere in the darkness. "Sleep."

Cerus was silent for a moment, steadying his breathing before trying again. "Are you meant to be guarding me?" His voice came out ragged and small. He hadn't had much reason to speak in the last months. Begging rarely granted him a reprieve, though sometimes his stupid tongue couldn't help itself, and conversation wasn't one of the labors the kingdom demanded of him.

"If you'd really like to leave, by all means, do it." The soldier's tone told him they were tired of this topic. Cerus was tempted to push it, to goad them into lashing out, into striking him, or throwing him back into the rain. Something that would shed a light on their intentions for him.

But he didn't, instead allowing his eyes to drift closed, though he knew sleep would elude him. Pointless as it was, Cerus hoped the soldier or their master could be convinced to kill him.

Put an end to this. Once and for all.

•§•§•

@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles @kixngiggles @honeycollectswhump @chibichibivale