#sabotage whump

[whump-queen]

sabotage

a carewhumper who’s constantly engineering situations for whumpee to need them, to run to them crying, to fall to their knees, broken and shattered and so easy to convince that all they need is whumper.

- slashing their tire so they’ll have to call whumper for a ride

- paying dudes to go rob and beat them up so they’ll be bloody and broken and weak and whumper can happen to ‘stumble upon them’ since they were just in the neighborhood…

- sabotaging whumpee’s finances (stealing their rent checks, running up their credit cards) to get them kicked out of whatever meager housing they’ve managed to rent. make them destitute. desperate. and all whumper has to do is waltz in with open arms, maybe a warm coat, and an offer whumpee can’t afford to refuse.

whumpee just doesn’t know why these things keep happening to them. whumper doesn’t help of course; their every word implies it was all whumpee’s fault. that maybe if they weren’t so careless and reckless with these things, maybe they—

no, whumper should just take care of these things for whumpee from now on. that’s what’s best, since whumpee has clearly proven they aren’t responsible enough to manage money, or shopping, let alone a job or really any human responsibilities.

after all, whumpee’s just a broken thing, and only whumper can put them back together.

only whumper will let them break down. only whumper can make them safe. only whumper can hold them close, warm, and just let whumpee collapse into their arms and sob against their neck until they finally drift to sleep.

[whump-captain]

it's a beautiful day in the unethical lab and you are a horrible test subject

[feroluce]

When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 6

"They don't care about you." / Flinch / Broken Promise / Abandoned

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

Hero x Villain Masterpost | <- Previous Part | Next Part ->

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 1600

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf @doctorsawyer @pinkrangerv

CW: PTSD, breaking and entering, sabotage, self-deprecation, swearing, harsh words, denial, mentioned injury, crying

A/N: Introducing a couple new characters: Antihero, a part-time hero, part-time villain who owed Villain a few favors, and Youngest, the most inexperienced member of Hero's old team. Also the first appearance of Hero's powers! They're a telekinetic.

----------

“...are you sure the distraction’s gonna work?”

“Antihero knows what they’re about, love. Trust me, we’ll have all the time you need.”

Hero shifted uneasily in their seat, watching the lights of the city streak by outside the car window. “I do, but… what about Techie? Won’t they alert Shapeshifter, Sound Gun and Leader once they find out we’re inside?”

Villain sighed, eyes fixed on the road. “I already told you, I’ll handle it.” Hero opened their mouth, but Villain raised a finger from the wheel, silencing them. “And don’t worry, I won’t kill them. If all goes well, they won’t even suspect what we came for until it’s too late.”

“Okay….”

Villain turned onto a side street, close to Hero’s former team’s headquarters, but not close enough to draw attention. They eased the car to a stop and put it into park before turning to Hero. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? If things don’t go as planned, it could end very badly for both of us.”

Hero gritted their teeth and nodded, thoughts whirling. “Not just us, but Techie and Youngest and maybe Antihero and—!”

Villain gently put a finger on Hero’s lips. “Hush. It’ll all work out.”

“But—!”

“Trust me?”

Hero slowly exhaled, trying to soothe their racing nerves. “Trust you.”

Villain smiled. “Good. Now, let’s break into your old headquarters, shall we?” They removed their hand and swiftly exited the car. Hero stared after them for a long moment, painfully aware of the spot on their lips where Villain’s finger had just been, just barely brushing against their skin. Villain shut the car door, and Hero jumped, quickly following suit, heat spreading across their face.

Their mask would hide the worst of the blush, probably. And the rest was hopefully covered by the darkness—

“…Hero?”

Hero jumped. “S-sorry,” they mumbled, starting down the sidewalk. “Just… memories.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Hero couldn’t afford to lose focus. Not now. And especially not while inside their old headquarters, where every second that ticked by was one second closer to getting caught.

Caught.

And imprisoned.

And tortured….

“Hero?”

They snapped out of their thoughts as Villain gently touched their shoulder. “I…” Hero blinked and realized they’d almost walked past the side door, their ticket into the building. They smacked their forehead in frustration. “Fuck… sorry, I was just….”

Villain frowned. “If you’re not ready for this, we can turn around and go home. I’ll call off Antihero, and we can try again another day.” They glanced up at Hero’s old headquarters, and the frown deepened. “Your team did a lot of fucked up shit, and they deserve to pay for every damned scrap. 

“But…” they looked back to Hero, and their gaze softened. “We don’t have to do this now. Just say the word.”

Hero hesitated. The offer was tempting, it really was. But… they had the suspicion that if they backed out now, they would never muster up the courage to return. And that thought… that thought terrified them more than getting caught.

They shook their head.  “No. We’re doing this.”

“Alright.” Villain nodded slowly and gestured to the door. “Lead the way. This is your mission, after all.”

Hero took a deep breath, steeling their nerves against the memories that threatened to flood their brain and overwhelm them again. I’m coming, Youngest. They pressed their hand to the doorknob and reached out with their powers, grasping the inner mechanisms with insubstantial fingers.

The lock clicked. Hero allowed themself a small smile of victory. It had been a while since they’d used their telekinesis for something as complex as the lock. This was promising. They pushed open the door and slipped inside, Villain on their heels.

The side door opened into a hallway that ran along the entire length of the first floor of the headquarters, connecting to the lobby, a few unimportant storage rooms, and the service staircase. Hero led the way down the hallway, their powers seeking out and disabling the security cameras in the stairwell long before they reached the door.

“Alright,” Villain murmured as they ascended the stairs, “just point me in the direction of the surveillance room and I’ll be off.”

Hero nodded, passing the second and third-floor doors before stopping at the fourth floor. “Second door, end of that hallway.”

“Got it,” Villain moved past them, but Hero caught their arm.

“Just… don’t hurt them too badly. Please.”

Villain’s expression was unreadable beneath the mask, but they nodded. “Of course, love.”

With those words, they vanished through the door. Hero listened to their quiet footsteps for a couple heartbeats before they shook themself and continued up the stairs. Youngest would likely be in their room. Hero remembered from their training days when Leader would lock them in their room to prevent them from following on patrol before they were deemed ready.

The memory reared its head, threatening to drown them, but Hero shook their head and pressed on. Youngest. They were here for Youngest.

The lock was no more difficult to open than the side door. Youngest jumped up as the door opened, words already spilling out. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to…” Their eyes widened as their brain caught up with what they were seeing. “Hero?!”

Hero winced at the shock and disbelief in their voice. “Hey, Youngest.”

“I… you died! You’re supposed to be at the bottom of the ocean somewhere…” Youngest staggered, grabbing onto their desk for support. Frost spread across the wooden surface from their fingers, but they didn’t notice.

“Ah… is that what Leader told you?”

Youngest hesitated before nodding. “They said… they said you were taking a break, to go visit some family… but your plane crashed into the ocean…” They perked up and started moving towards the door. “We have to let everyone know you’re okay! Have you told Techie yet—?”

Hero didn’t move from the doorway, even as Youngest paused expectantly in front of them. “Listen to me, Youngest. I never went on a break, never went on a plane.”

Youngest blinked in confusion. “...huh?”

“I…” Hero’s voice shook as they sought the right words, “I was getting sloppy. Pulled one too many all-nighters. Let a couple big villains get away from me. Leader wasn’t happy about any of that. And… and when I asked to take a break, I think that’s when they snapped. There’s… there’s a reason why the lower levels are off-limits.”

Youngest stared at them, eyes growing wider by the second as Hero’s words sank in. They stepped back. “No,” they protested, “no, you’re lying!”

“I wish I was lying,” Hero murmured. “They don’t care about you. They only care about what you can do for them, and damned if you act like a person who has needs!”

Youngest shook their head, hands raised defensively. “How could you say something like that?! Leader took us in, trained us… they’re like a parent to me! They would never do that!”

“I’m sorry, Youngest, but it’s true. They’ll abandon you if they thought it was ‘for the good of the city’.” Hero’s voice turned mocking, remembering Teleporter’s words as they’d exacted the punishment ordered by Leader. “That’s why I came back. I didn’t want to leave you behind when you, too, caught their wrath.”

Youngest’s expression darkened. “Get out.”

Hero blinked. “What?”

“Get. The fuck. Out. Or I will make you leave. You’re not Hero. You’re something else, wearing their face, wearing their mask.”

Hero’s stomach churned, the earlier fear and panic returning at full force. “Youngest, I….”

“Don’t ‘Youngest’ me!” Youngest screamed, the temperature rapidly dropping. “Leave! Leave, or I might change my mind and trap you here so you can repeat your lies to Leader’s face! How does that sound?!”

Hero stepped back in shock. They wouldn’t… would they? “I’m sorry, Youngest,” they managed to say, voice shaking. “Just… I’m sorry.”

They thrust out with their hand, slamming the door shut with such hurried force that it rattled in the doorframe. The lock clicked, and Hero spun and sprinted back down the hallway, tears threatening to spill down their cheeks.

They were too late. 

Down the stairs.

They’d waited too long.

The fourth-floor hallway.

They failed.

The surveillance room. Hero barely glanced around the room, registering Techie lying unconscious on the floor before they dashed across the room to where Villain bent over the console. Villain turned in surprise, eyes widening as they noted the look on Hero’s face and the distinct lack of Youngest.

Hero mashed themself against Villain’s chest, the tears finally arriving in full force. “I… they… they thought I was… they didn’t want… threatened to…to….”

Villain slowly wrapped their arms around Hero, their fingers running through Hero’s hair. “Oh… I’m so sorry. You tried your best.”

“I… I really thought….”

“I know, I know.” Villain removed one of their hands, tapping on the keyboard. “If it’s any consolation, I got the other thing we needed.”

Hero continued to sob, Youngest’s words playing over and over in their mind.

“Hero… Hero!” Villain gently pushed them away and planted their hands on their shoulders. “We gotta get our asses out of here before the team gets back, okay? Plenty of time to sort through your emotions when we’re home free.”

Hero slowly nodded, removing their mask to wipe away the tears. “Okay…” they mumbled, voice still shaking.

Villain nodded, grabbing Hero’s hand. “Let’s go, love.”

[fallenwhumpee]

Empty

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Permanent injury, character death, sabotage, blood, injection, medical settings(?)

They wished that someone had prevented them from taking this mission. They wished that someone had called out how much time was to pass before even they opened their eyes. They wished that someone had cared about them enough to tell that a thousand year they were going to spend in space was a huge loss to them and their loved ones. But all of their friend has been out in space, and they had nothing left to tie them to the earth since their admiration for nature wasn't enough.

Space, unlike nature, felt empty. Despite the crew of a thousand and ten times of it as passengers, the emptiness led to a bone deep ache they couldn't name. The emptiness was comforting in a sense, with the absence of responsibilities and worries, but it was also letting the thoughts they desperately tried to bury to creep up.

Captain sighed as they realised that they were brooding yet again. This was the fifth time this month. Or the week. Their awareness of time was not very trustable.

[A familiar, comforting smile appeared on the hologram. There's a moment of silence as the person struggles to find the right words.

You've always been too gloomy, cap. Sometimes, I couldn't believe how you motivated us but failed to see something to motivate yourself. But getting the rank, I began to understand. It was never about motivation. Now I know why you sacrificed your nights and chances of raise for us. Now I understand. And I understand how... lonely this is, how lonely to stare at the deck and know all those lives look up to a word between your two lips.

The smile turns bitter.]

A cough began to bubble up in their throat again. They eyed the crew, who were doing the routine checkup before the breakfast. They couldn't just cough here, knowing that it would draw attention. They stood slowly, ignoring the stiffness, and relieved the crew from the final tasks. First Officer glared at them, probably thinking that they were being too soft.

Captain ignored the look. They just needed to be alone, and they didn't think they could make it to their room at that moment. Also, they could complete the checkup themselves, so it was pointless to keep the crew around.

The crew emptied the deck slowly, their chatter growing more faint as Captain is left alone.

[And I truly don't know how you survived without going mad. I will go mad if I go through this without talking to someone. I'm glad you offered me to call when I need... though I was surprised to hear you took another mission.

The figure chuckled, breathing in. The camera angle shifted, and revealed a drained face, smiling with a hint of sadness.

Captain coughed harshly, blood spluttering to their black uniform. When the chest pain faded, they were only glad that this wasn't the ceremonial one— the plain white one that they were supposed to wear at the landing day. They wheezed a few times as they struggled to catch their breath, leaning to the helm to keep themselves stable. They could feel their body breaking down day by day, their facade beginning to crack.

I was expecting you to retire, you know. Find a beach planet and take a vacation. If that was the situation, then you could answer me before it's too late, but perhaps it's for the best. Now, it'll take some time for you to get these messages, but knowing you'll see those is somehow soothing. Anyway, skipping my usual blabber, I...

The figure shifted uneasily, preparing themselves about what they were going to say.

I woke up before the time. It's only one week, but knowing the high tech stuff we work with, it's truly concerning...]

"When's the medicine?" They asked the computer. They cleared their voice and asked again when it didn't answer. "When is the next dose?"

"It is recommended..."

"It is recommended for a medical personnel to oversee the procedure, I know." They cut in with the irritation of hearing the same sentence for the tenth time today. "But I ordered you to shut up about it and just answer the questions."

If it was a crew member, they wouldn't use that tone unless it was a life and death situation. But with a very irritating computer, they didnt know how to restrain it.

"Your next dose of medicine is in two hours." The computer talked in its annoyingly flat tone. "The medicine can be taken in cafeteria."

"No." Captain almost snarled. They ignored this was basically arguing with a bunch of wires. "In the medbay reserved for the command crew."

"Your preference is noted."

Captain sighed. The computer was noting this every day, yet forgetting. They had tried to fix it multiple times, but because of an unknown software in the ship, some minor things like that was getting deleted from the ship's memory. They hoped no one else noticed it, at least until Captain found a way to crack the software. The technicians could look at it after that.

A sudden wave of dizziness caused them to slip. They gripped the console not to fall with a sudden panic, a whimper escaping as their chest ached with the strain. They held their hand to their nose, expecting it to begin bleeding soon. This was becoming more and more frequent ever since...

[I didn't realise it at first, but after two days, I noticed that I got tired easily. And not only me. Everyone was tiring out easily. So, I ordered a full checkup on my crew—

The figure chuckled weairly.

Don't scold me so soon, I got myself too, but I followed your footsteps and had to be dragged first... anyway, we are all damaged. The cryopods were sabotaged and... and...

Slowly, tears begun to fall from the figure's eyes. They sobbed a few times to get themselves together, but their voice was thick with emotion.

This damage is irreversible. It seems like I had the worst blow... I... I'm dying. The ship is also falling apart and I don't know if we can make it... ]

They slowly lowered themselves, breathing heavily to build their composure back. Their knees felt weak as the last medicine began to wear off. But they knew their crew expected to see them in the cafeteria. There weren't many people to cover their absence. Only fifteen of their crew was awake since they had to keep an eye on everyone.

Slowly but carefully, they pushed themselves back to their feet. They coughed again and commanded the computer to run a final checkup as they manually checked some of the instruments. They were glad that they had swallowed most of the information to run a ship alone in theory. It would be impossible to run a vast ship like that all by themselves, but with the information they had, they could at least give people some break or see their own needs.

Making sure that everything was in place and then checking after the computer, they forced themselves to walk to the cafeteria. It was a gruelling walk with their every muscle rebelling against themselves, but they kept their usual stoic look until they sat down with their tray. Unsurprisingly, their second in command slid their tray and sat right in front of them.

"You're distant."

[I'm growing distant, with the neverending suspicion of my own crew, with the neverending paranoia of alarms wailing...

The figure wiped their tears.

Sorry. I didn't intend my... farewell message to turn to a breakdown. But... someone is doing those and I can't find it. We all pay the price. And I'm coming to the only place, you, for the advice but...]

Captain ignored. It had been only a month awake. They couldn't ve held responsible for acting like this, after considering.

"Were your former crew's lying, or you just got old and grumpier with time?"

Captain didn't have the energy to deal with First Officer's suspicions. They bit from their meal slowly, not having much appetite. "Perhaps the news exaggerated, and my former crew decided not to mention that I'm not a morning person."

"There's no morning in space," First Officer chuckled.

"And there's no coffee in this ship too. Stop circling around what you want to say. I'm sure my former helmsman said that if I hadn't been so straightforward, I'd be in the command centre, not stuck in a long-distance spaceship," Captain returned.

There had been many interviews about them, and it was strange to think that many of those could be considered antiques. The people, their former crews, were either dead - a thousand year was too long even with the increased average lifespan - or in other ships, sleeping under freezing temperatures just like Captain was until a month ago. They briefly wondered if pulling away from them was the right choice, but after what they lived through... Captain didn't have the heart to make their workplace their family again. It was better to put some distance between, at least after making sure everyone was going to be fine.

Captain's attention snapped back when First Officer finally built up the courage to talk. "You're hiding something, and I don't like it."

"And what's it, since you are so perceiving?"

First Officer frowned. "You wouldn't be hiding if I knew."

"Maybe," Captain swallowed their last bite, realising that they rushed their meal to get out of this place, "there's nothing to hide, and you are just reading too much into people's behaviour."

"You are lying."

"I am not obligated to earn your—"

A sharp, stab like pain (they had been stabbed before, but this actually felt worse) cut their sentence. They coughed, covering their mouth with a tissue. They could feel it get wet and a faint smell of blood irritated their nose, so they didn't let go of the tissue. They wrinkled it into their palm after making sure there's no blood present on their face.

First Officer's expression softened. "Are you okay?"

Captain considered the change of tune for a moment. Perhaps First Officer was just searching their mouth. Coughing a few more times, they cleared their voice, purging their voice of emotions.

"Went down to the wrong way."

First Officer looked unconvinced for a moment, but Captain wasn't going to deal with it. "Well, if you are so curious about everything, you can go and check everyone's schedules and report back to me for any inconvenience you find," they said with a playful tone, standing up. Their vision blurred for a moment, but they managed not to falter.

[But perhaps advice is not the best course of action. I need you to be okay. I need you to be safe from this conspiracy.]

With quick steps, they made their way to the living quarters. Their chest was squeezing, their head beginning to throb again. Eating too fast was catching up. They doubled over after making the turn, their knees wobbling. They leaned to the wall for a moment, closing their eyes. They didn't let the dread come and dictate them again. They were going to be alright, they murmured to themselves.

They dragged their feet to the second medbay of the ship, which was not used due to numbered awake medics. "Open the cot." They gasped as they fell to the floor, the hiss of the cot coming from close. They whimpered on the cold floor, their vision darkening for a moment.

[I...I feel my end is near, my dear friend. I will call you that, after a long time under you, as your loyal first officer. My end is near, and I... I have no worries left behind other than you. Someone wants this interstellar route to fail. I'm afraid you're one of the next targets. I don't want your end to be like mine...]

"I'm afraid," Captain murmured themselves as they slowly rose to their knees, breathing heavily, "we are destined to live the same thing regardless of distance and time."

There was no room for pride as they crawled to the cot, the glass hatch closing over them.

[Scanning...]

Captain tried to calm their breaths, laying flat relieving some dizziness. They tried not to think much. They tried not to think at all. The hum of the medical equipment echoed through the small room. They clenched their jaw, fingers gripping the edge of the cot. It was a desperaye attempt to anchor themselves as the machine got louder, revealing what they already knew too well.

Captain's gaze fixated on the sterile ceiling, the rhythmic whirr of the machinery getting into their nerves.

The cold, clinical announcement pulled Captain back to the present. The holographic display flickered to life, revealing a detailed map of internal damage, highlighted in stark red. But it didn't need to be, as another coughing fit took over and Captain failed to cover their mouth, the glass painting with red almost in an instant.

[Internal damage detected. There are no available treatments, but medicine could be administered to relieve symptoms. For further instructions, please consult the medical personnel.]

"Just give the medicine." Captain gasped. A needle tied to a canal came out from the cot, piercing their skin and bumping a clear liquid into them. The pain dulled instantly, Captain growing limp. They swore, groaning as they opened the cot.

Captain took a deep breath, determined to regain composure. They wiped away the remaining traces of blood on their lips with the back of their hand, their gaze fixed on the holographic display showing the internal damage. The sterile hum of the medbay equipment seemed to echo the silence of their situation.

"Captain, the report is—" First Officer's mouth dropped open at Captain's dishevelled look. Their expression was horrified. And the swearing they used was the only word they could express the situation.

After a moment, Captain straightened up, shoulders squared, and a mask of authority settled on their face. It was a practiced facade, a shield against the vulnerability that threatened to consume them. They stood shakily, getting out of the medbay with faltering space. When they opened the door of their own room, a voice behind them called.

[lili-loves-whump]

lili-loves-whump presents:

a 'whump: the musical!' prompt,

Cats

Caretaker runs a hand through Whumpee's hair with a small smile.

The body underneath them shudders. Caretaker cards their fingers across the sweaty curls of their friend, humming a song softly.

My best friend, she’s a small girl, yes,

She sings of shadows and rain, 

And if you catch her, and you shall catch her, 

She’ll sing of happiness again. 

They sing the lines over and over again. In the kitchen, the bag of flour falls to the floor, white powder spilling all over the tiles. Caretaker doesn't flinch at the sound.

Whumpee does.

Their skin is feverish, almost grey, and they tremble underneath their blankets. The sun has risen to the highest point, it is midday, and Caretaker is hot with the human hot water bottle draped atop them, but they don't move.

They can't.

Guilt claws at their gut. Whumpee whimpers underneath them. Caretaker makes a soft shushing sound at the book of their throat, grimacing as their fingers tug at knot in their sweaty curls.

They run their hand through repeatedly, gently separating the strands until they come through in one pass. The tips of their fingers are greasy and almost gritty with sweat, and they clench their jaw but say nothing.

The plate of cookies in front of them lay abandoned. Caretaker squints. Whumpee shifts beneath them.

"Shush," they whisper, "go to sleep."

Whumpee breathes a deep sigh and relaxes into the hold of Caretaker a little more. Their breathing evens out, and they sleep.

Caretaker glances at the cookies again. They have an unusual shine, and the slightest pink tinge that is barely visible to those who don't know.

They didn't mean to overdoes on the amount. Honest.

Still Caretaker doesn't move. It is their own doing, they know. Guilt keeps them attached to Whumpee's hip.

They let them sleep it off. It's the least they can do.

And if Caretaker keeps the biscuits in a container under their bed for the next time they fear Whumpee will hurt themselves, they do their best to ignore it.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Obedience

for Angstpril, Day 11: Self-Sabotage

cw: death mention, creepy whumper, manipulation, very vague noncon reference, adult language

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

וווווווווווווווווווווו×

Alexei was back in Uriah's office. Same chair, same cinnamon candle sitting cold on the desk, same shock collar weighing heavy on his throat, reminding him that he couldn't run; he was still a prisoner.

Even before the Tower, he'd been no stranger to electrocution, but the pulse the handler had dealt him had been especially strong. Lex was exhausted. Every muscle was sore, as if he'd been slammed against a wall, or thrown down a few flights of stairs, and there was a tremor in his shoulders that wouldn't go away.

Uriah Fox took his time coming in. A quick glance at the clock told him it was 3am, and Lex wondered if the CEO had been woken up when he'd turned on the handler.

Defective tool. Faulty weapon. 

Fox had used the Tower as a threat, implying he had another chance to stay free of it, but Lex was still on edge. There was no way he'd escape punishment, even if he was still useful enough to stay out of the cell.

"Well well," Fox's voice came from behind, and Lex tensed instinctively.

Stop. It's no use here.

"I wasn't sure you'd actually come back. Color me pleasantly surprised."

(Surmise, demise, unwise.)

Lex watched him move around the desk, take a seat across from him.

"You said you wanted to re-evaluate."

"I did. I understand you're upset. Misleading you about Overkast was unkind of me, I'll admit—"

"Misleading? Lying."

"Let me finish." There was an edge to his voice that made Lex oblige, and Fox smiled at his silence. Like he knew he was holding his leash.

"I think we should start again. I'll offer you more transparency, and in return, I ask that you offer your services." Fox reached into the cabinet beside him, retrieving a crimson folder, opening it, spreading the papers inside across the top of the desk. Headshots. Codenames and personal details. Lex recognized the people in the photos; the same ones he'd encountered at the apartment a few hours prior.

"Each individual here has been Redlined," Fox began, using a term Lex was very familiar with.

It was what happened to a powered person when they committed a crime; a warrant was put out for their arrest, and worse, they lost any legal protection. Sometimes civilians would band together to hunt Redlined. On the occasion that they caught up with their quarry, there wasn't much left to bury. Lex was Redlined himself, along with plenty of his Neath acquaintances.

"What'd they do?" Lex asked.

"Broke contract with Titanium. They're unpredictable. Dangerous."

Dangerous. He thought of the round-faced woman, reading her book. The girl in pajamas. Even when Fox told him there would be a team, he hadn't mentioned the kid.

"And you want me to kill them?"

Fox sighed. "I want you to ensure that they can't run rampant through the streets. Whether that means killing them, or bringing them to me."

"What will you do with them?"

"They'll be dealt with by the company."

Dealt with. Locked up in the Tower, then. The book woman and the girl whose fire could rival his own. The skinny young man who'd stood frozen in the street. The woman with a red streak in her hair, who'd offered him her hand.

The Tower wasn't meant for people like them, it was for people like him. They wouldn't last a week.

"What happens if I say no?" Lex said.

"What makes you think you can?" Fox raised an eyebrow. "Well, you certainly can, but you know where you'll end up."

(Cup, pup.) Lex swallowed, reaching out to pull the papers closer to him. How many times had he done this, before the Tower? How many files had he been handed, to familiarize himself with a target? But never someone he'd met, never someone who'd wanted to help him, however stupid that notion was.

Sarah McCloud. Codename: Spyglass. Twenty five, able to enhance her senses.

A danger.

Akeela Harris. Codename: Firebrand. Fourteen, pyromancer.

Fourteen fucking years old.

"You want me to kill a child?" He pushed the datapage back. 

"Harsh way to put it. Apprehend."

"A kid."

"I didn't think Cinder cared about those details," Fox said, tucking the pages back into the folder. "I thought you followed orders. Indiscriminately."

"I don't hurt kids." He folded his arms, a gesture he'd honestly missed. 

"You'd rather go back to your cell?"

Lex tried not to let his fear at those words reach his expression, forcing his voice to come out calm. "Thought you wanted to make use of me. Is one rogue team enough to make it worth it?"

"What are you suggesting?" Fox leaned back in his chair.

"I know how it works. Corporate loves using prisoners to do their dirty work." He mimicked Fox, leaning back as if he were capable of relaxing. "You wanted me for that, so why limit it to this one job? Surely you have other problems you want taken care of."

"And you think that's enough leverage to make me let up about the rogues?" Fox seemed amused by the notion. "Any prisoner in the Tower would kill to be in your position."

(Addition, commission, intuition.)

"But you chose me." His heart rate was picking up with every bit pushback from Uriah. Was it really worth it? Why should he risk going back to save a bunch of strangers?

"That looked bad."

"We aren't your enemies."

"Are you okay?"

Fuck.

To his relief, Fox chuckled. "You are bold. I can't say I don't admire that. And someone with your particular skillset can be hard to come by…" He put up his hands. "Alright. Say I indulge you. Are you planning on defying me every other mission? Attacking your babysitter?"

"No." Lex clenched his jaw. "I'll follow orders." He added, "No kids."

Uriah tapped his chin. "Fortunately for you, most of my enemies aren't children. Now you say you'll be obedient. How will you prove it?"

Lex looked up. "Prove it?"

"Yes. I'm not about to agree to your terms unless I know it'll be worth my while." He grinned. "Why don't you get down on your knees for me, Alexei?"

His breath caught. "What?"

"True obedience is without question. Or are you having second thoughts?"

Lex grimaced, getting up from the chair and moving to kneel on the floor, pushing away any shreds of damaged pride. It's been worse. I've done worse.

His pulse quickened as Fox stood, walking over to him. He placed a hand on his head. 

"Good boy."

Lex said nothing, eyes glued on the ground, jaw clenched.

(Ploy, coy, annoy. Toy.) He swallowed.

Relief washed over him when Fox's hands didn't trace down his throat or fiddle with a belt buckle, instead taking a half-step back.

"Kiss my shoes," he said, "and we have a deal. I'll forget this little incident, and you can forget about the rogue team. Stay out of the Tower. Work for me."

I've done worse. It could've been so much worse.

Lex leaned forward, slowly lowering himself and planting his mouth on the leather.

"Shoes. Plural."

He fixed his glare on the floor, holding back from directing it upwards, at Uriah, then moved to repeat the motion with the other foot.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" He lifted Lex's chin with the toe of his shoe, a smug smile on his face. "I'll arrange for you to have a room here. Life will be good for you Alexei, just wait and see. All you have to do is keep that obedience."

Lex stayed on his knees while Uriah circled around him, moving towards the office door.

"And remember who you belong to."

וווווווווווווווווווווו×

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing

[paperweight-inshadesofgreige]

will i crash and burn (or go up like a rocket)

everything was perfect. until it wasn't. funny how quickly things escalate. aka my take on the store scene in wonka (2023) :))

day 1: sabotage | second chances | ‘i can dream of the old days.’

guys look!! it's march!! starting @whumpthemusical w/ some wonka but dw there's hamilton tmrw :DD

[serys-writes-stories]

Chokehold

It’s a weird night so here’s a lil drabble (540 words)

CW: Conditioned whumpee, self-sabotaging/self-harming thoughts, masochist whumpee (sorta?), missing whumper, thoughts of returning to abuser, briefly referenced beating and drugging, mentioned chokeholds (and used as a metaphor), briefly implied noncon/dubcon.

Whumpee stared at the ceiling, laying horizontally on their single bed. Their feet rested on the wall and their head hung off the other side, causing a rush of blood that felt eerily similar to when Whumper would finally release them from a chokehold. They could still feel a chokehold now, though it was different. It no longer caused a fear of life, but a fear of living. More specifically, of never again being able to live the way they had before being taken.

They used to love the smell of roses, but now they were only reminded of the way Whumper would lay them out on the bed before a long night. Dressing up and getting drunk had been self-care, now it would feel closer to self-harm, with how many times they’d been drugged at Whumper’s gatherings. Even the cuffs of their sweatpants reminded them too much of rope.

What would Whumper do if they returned now? Probably give them weeks-worth of beatings and druggings. Reclaim and reprogram. It would be their hell.

It would be their heaven.

Whumpee wanted to get up and move—run a mile—but how could they? It was the middle of the night, and they never knew who might be lurking outside, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch them up, to drag them away from their life and what they loved for a second time. It was almost tempting.

Instead, they lowered their legs and raised their head, closed their eyes and waited for that euphoric bloodrush to pass. It hurt in a good way, the same way those old chokeholds had. Sometimes, Whumpee missed those fingers around their throat, squeezing, forcing them to beg and submit in order to save their life. They missed that subsequent bloodrush even more. That first breath after ages without. The knowledge that they wouldn’t die, not yet.

They wanted to feel like that again—feel that again. More than just physical floods of blood from hanging upside down, but the psychological torment that Whumper had inflicted upon them. A rollercoaster of highs and lows in which the highs were always more painful than the lowest of lows. When they could lose themself in the blinding flashes of agony and ecstasy.

God, they wanted to feel. Their skin breaking under too-tight bindings. Whumper’s hands tracing every curve of their body. A knife pressing into the vulnerable flesh under their chin, tilting their head upward so that their lips could meet Whumper’s for a kiss. The burning whenever Whumper got too impatient with preparing them both for the night to come.

They wanted it all back.

Caretaker couldn’t give them that, and neither could themself or anyone else. Only Whumper. They needed Whumper.

They took a deep breath and imagined Whumper laying beside them, praising them for being so good, for taking it so well. That gentle voice they could switch to so quickly when they were satisfied with Whumpee and their performance. Sometimes that performance blended with reality, and they could no longer discern what parts they liked and what they didn’t. Eventually, it had all become the same, all wonderfully awful.

All they knew now was that Whumper still had them in a chokehold, and they liked it.

[here-haveaprompt]

These prompts were requested by @shadowykidmakeregg! We had touched upon a couple different themes/categories for prompts so there's a mix in this list.

Prompts requested were:

- For those who are no longer friends but when one of them gets new friends the old ones start 'sabotaging' the new group. The groups are also sports team members.

- angst/whump shapeshifter au prompts

- torture prompts

Unfortunately I could only come up with a few and I don't usually dabble in the last two for one reason or another so this list is on the shorter side and some of these might not be the best - sorry! As always though, feel free to tweak these to fit your story!

For torture prompts I also have this and this prompt that could be taken as such!

1. Shapeshifter is forced to stay in a certain form because of their surroundings (ex: must stay a small animal because they’re in a small space). Only problem is staying in another form has some serious drawbacks…

2. Shapeshifter!Whumpee catches an illness that only affects what they’ve turned into (like animal specific kind of illnesses). Turning back to their original form makes it worse and whumpee is unable to take care of themselves in their other form. It’s up to Caretaker to look after them.

3. “This…” they watch as their captor careless swings a liquid filled syringe in the air. A burning dread heats up their insides. “This may hurt a bit.”

4. “What if I," immediately a jolt of pain shoots through their body, "press here?”

5. Character A - who has always exhibited a strong will and mental strength, never one to yield or bow their head in defeat - now lays before B, sobbing for them to stop, to let them go. In other words: B has destroyed A.

6. When confronting the old friend group about an incident, the character is forced to believe it was their new friends who did it after receiving a very convincing denial, ‘proof’ and all.

7. “Are you sure it wasn’t (new friend)? They have access to your locker right?”

8. “It has to have been you! You’re the only one I told about this!”

9. As a way to lose trust among the group, the old friend group does little things to irk the new group. Things that could be brushed off as coincidences or accidents until it’s too much to be such. (Prompt 10 can kinda go with this!)

10. “Then how did it get into your bag!?”

11. Another idea that goes with #9 is to break all the sports equipment, again as a way to shatter the trust among the group (because of course it could only be someone within the group, right?)

12. Scare the captured character by making them believe they were forgotten about by their captor

13. For added angst make the captor someone the captured knows >:)

[whump-queen]

someone just gave me the amazing idea of multiple whumpers but it’s all clones of me

imagine how fucked you’d be with multiple clone!akias

[madamwhump]

Despite having whumpflies, reading it a lot and being able to imagine thousands of scenarios, I realized I struggle a lot to write it. I don't know why and I don't know how to explain the dry feeling that hits me the moment I open a new doc.

I enjoy specific kinds of whump and thus I want to create content to feed myself, but I simply freeze.

I write other things, and I'm being successful in all of those, so I don't get why it simply don't translate to whump! ☹️

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Does anyone else in the whump community watch Brave Wilderness, or….

[tildeathiwillwrite]

There's a Thief! Loose! In the Draigo Stronghold!

(The Watcher and the Thief, Chapter 2 Scene 1)

June of Doom Day 5: "It's not as bad as it looks." / Bite / Swelling / Disfiguration

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

<- previous | next (coming soon)

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 900

Tag List:@juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf

CW: deception, sabotage, arguing, bruises, swelling

A/N: No one knows what the thief is going to do next! Least of all the thief! (parodied from comedian John Mulaney) Comedy aside, we're actually getting to the "thief" part of TWatT. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to make that horse loose in a hospital joke.

----------

It was surprisingly easy to get close to the Draigo stronghold unseen. Sure, his employer had said they wouldn’t be paying much attention to the east entrance with the Council meeting in session, but Rift had to admit that he’d had his reservations about just… walking up to the building. He’d even gone to the trouble of putting on the disguise and getting into character hours before drawing near the stronghold, for fear of running into some far-flung patrol.

His employer had been correct, though. Nobody was paying much attention to the east entrance. The solitary guard minding it even wished him good morning as he went past! The Draigo truly were confident that their reputation would keep would-be thieves and assassins away.

The smart ones, anyway.

Rift absently palmed a small, round, flat metal object from one of the many hidden pockets on his person. A number of these strange objects had been gifted to him by his employer, with instructions that he place all of them around the stronghold before the Council meeting ended. He had not asked what the purpose of the objects was, and his employer had not elaborated, only given a stern reminder before they parted ways.

He flicked his wrist, and the object skipped across the ground, stopping against the wall near the guard. The guard didn’t notice, and Rift continued walking, consciously putting a purposeful bounce in his step.

Loop around the north side of the stronghold first, make a pass at the Council chambers—and if possible, get one of the objects under the door—plant the remaining objects as close to the chambers as possible, and keep one on hand for outside the archives. The idea was to concentrate the Draigo at the Council chambers and fool them into thinking they were under attack.

Those particular instructions had piqued Rift’s curiosity as to what, exactly, the objects would do. He supposed as he made his way towards the north side of the stronghold, that he would find out soon enough.

He dropped another object into a fancy-looking vase as he passed. The clicking sound it made echoed strangely through the mouth, and he winced, hurrying on his way. Not many Draigo around to notice, but still…

As Rift drew close to the west side of the stronghold, to the building where the Council chambers lay, the sounds of arguing drew his attention. He paused, head cocked, trying to locate the source of the voices. Up ahead… around the side of the building, maybe?

The voices grew louder and more heated as he drew closer.

“…not Marcella. Let me speak to Maelyn, then!”

“Miss Sorro is accompanying the Justice Head in the meeting. You will simply have to wait.”

A muffled thud, followed by a muttered curse.

“De Silv, if you do not compose yourself, I will have to see you out.”

“You can’t—!”

“…is everything alright over here?” Rift rounded the corner and paused, a carefully crafted look of concern on his face. Two elves, both facing away from him, flinched and whirled around, twin looks of surprise on their faces.

The elf furthest from him, with silvery hair, exhausted eyes and what appeared to be a bruise on the side of his face, recovered first. “Yes, of course,” he said softly, running a hand through his hair and wincing as he brushed the bruise. “I apologize for my outburst. It… it has been a long few days without rest. I am simply… frustrated. My message is incredibly urgent.”

“So you’ve made clear,” the other elf muttered. Raising his voice, he addressed Rift. “Thank you for your concern, lord…?”

“Theodoric Graves,” Rift supplied, giving a small bow. “From the far east stronghold on business. And I must apologize for intruding on your discussion, but I’ve only just arrived myself… is the Council in session?”

The silver-haired elf grimaced. “Correct.”

Rift nodded. “That would explain why the place is all but deserted.” He crossed his arms and glanced around the corner to the entrance of the building. “Any clue when the meeting’s ending?”

The elves glanced at each other before the other elf, who appeared to have some authority, answered. “I’m afraid I do not know, Lord Graves.”

“Ah. Well, thanks anyway.” Rift turned as if to leave before pausing and glancing back. “By the way… de Silv, was it?” He tapped the side of his face, mirroring the location of the silver-haired elf’s bruise. “You might want to get that looked at. It’s beginning to swell.”

De Silv blinked, his hand automatically reaching up and probing the wound. “I…” he stammered, “Thank you for your concern, sir, but it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Rift shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it. It’s your wound after all.” He turned away, another object discretely slipping out of his hand. “I think I’ll head over to the archives, in case someone comes along looking for me.” It landed on the ground with barely a sound, and Rift casually walked off, leaving the elves to continue their heated discussion.

By the time he finally began making his way south, towards the archives, he only had one object left on his person, with plenty of time to find his target. Celestials willing, anyway.

[myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19]

Unforseen Casualty

@irathgo @smellofsnoww @luna-rein

************

Keir did his assigned tasks while specific eyes kept their attention on him.

Mein, an old friend of his mother. She didn't look happy having him there but he didn't care for her right now. He turned his head away from her and kept working.

Another one of his projects. He could see the frustration in her eyes even though she kept a calm demeanor while giving orders.

He picked up a box, offloading another from the truck while keeping a defiant gaze on Mein.

She kept her eye on him until he disappeared into the large building.

************

Keir's back slammed into the wall. He was just walking out of the warehouse to have his break when she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him aside.

"Leave," she ordered in a low tone.

He just stared at her with a slight look of annoyance.

"I will," he answered.

"When?" She demanded.

"When I'm done," Keir answered.

She dug his back deeper into the wall, he stared her down and didn't break eye contact.

"Now you listen here kid," she began in a threatening tone. "If you don't leave I'll…."

"What?" He interrupted her, "Tell on me?"

Mein grit her teeth but didn't answer him. They kept on with the staring match until he pulled her hand from his chest and she stepped back. She was seething.

"Don't get in the way," he told her and then walked away.

****************

Keir managed to get away from Mein's constant gaze and sneak away to do what he really needed to do. He put his plan in motion setting up tiny explosives in different areas, mainly the boxes and barrels.

He set things up and was half way done when he spotted something. One of the barrels was leaking out something that looked odd. He got closer and touched the substance. This isn't right.

He checked the others and the others.

"Shit," he cursed. Most of these were explosive. These guys aren't into this business. He wondered if the others knew, but still if there would be a change in products he would have known.

He needs to stop his own explosives or else this will be too big of a problem for him.

He ran to his but stopped when something caught his gaze. He blinked at the tiny bomb. That's not his. He gulped someone set the timer and he needed to get out.

He sprinted out, this was a set from the beginning someone else targeted them before he could.

He managed to get out of the building a considerable distance.

"Yo, Steve," someone called behind him, using his alias for the day. He was a younger guy that's been hanging around Keir for a while now and he was assigned to teach the kid about the job to make sure he doesn't mess up.

Keir turned back. The kid was looking in the building. He began running towards him. That place could blow any moment now.

The kid got inside.

Keir ran faster. He was getting close but the kid seemed to run outside the building too. He probably saw it.

Before he could do anything else he was thrown back by the force of the explosion. It knocked Keir against a wall so hard he hit his head and knocked him out immediately.

***********

When he woke up, there was a ringing in his ears and warm dust in his throat. Keir looked around the place, most of his vision was blurred but he could make out something orange and red dancing all around. It was hot and his head hurt. It was pounding making it hard for him to remember what he was doing before let alone figure out what happened. He felt something roll down the side of his head, he touched the back and it came out wet and sticky.

After a while the ringing stopped and he could somewhat see. His mind was still hazy and his balance was off. Because he managed to stand up but found it hard to stay up.

He heard a loud groaning like someone was in pain, Keir looked up. Then he remembered the kid got caught up in the explosion.

He tried to stand again it was hard but he got the hang of it somewhat. He moved closer stumbling towards the kid, getting close until someone grabbed him and began leading him away before he could even protest.

Keir let the stranger lead him, to be honest he was still a little confused and all this running is making him sick.

He yanked his arm away and knelt down holding his knees as he threw up.

When he was done the person placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You need to get out of here immediately," the person said.

Keir flicked their arm away and he stood up to look at whoever this was supposed to be.

Mein watched him as he failed to stand up straight let alone walk. He was covered in scratches and dark blood fell from the side of his head. His dark black hair was now grey from the ash.

"What are you doing here?" Keir demanded, there wasn't much power in his voice as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Saving your life you little brat." She responded. Mein took his wrist again "now let's go before you get yourself killed,"

"I can't leave," he protested, feeling more and more weak. "I need…. to…. go back…..for Jonathan,"

"Keir, if you…." She began but paused. Her eyes and mouth went wide as she looked down at the blood leaking from the boy's side.

"Keir," she said, looking up at him. "Keir you're injured,"

"What?" He looked down and saw the shard of glass lunged in his side. How didn't he see that let alone feel it? That explains why he's been feeling weaker and weaker.

Mein kept her eyes on the wound, not sure what to do.

Keir blinked at it too, getting sleepy the more he stayed standing there until he couldn't stay awake anymore and his eyes rolled back, his legs turning into jelly while he fell.

Mein caught him before he could hit the ground.

"Damn it kid," she cursed then began leading him to her car.

************

The first thing he noticed as he began to wake up was the pain all over his body. Especially his side.

Keir cracked his eye open, he looked around, he doesn't recognize the place. He sat up slowly bitting back cries of pain.

Sitting up he could see the bandages around his stomach and he felt some around his head.

That explains the pain but whose place is this?

Most of the night before was mainly a blur but he could easily remember the explosion it wasn't him that set it and…. And… and the kid. The kid got caught in the explosion. He needed to get the kid some help.

Keir moved his legs slowly as he tried to get off the bed. He managed to get himself off the bed. Pulling on a loose shirt that was by the bed.

Then he moved out the bedroom, holding on to his side each time the pain was pulsing. He was more or less dragging himself along than walking.

He reached what looked to be the living room. No pictures to identify the owner but there was one. He moved closer to see and it was a picture of him when he a kid. He looked 14. That was when he was at his birthday at some Pizza restaurant with his moms and a few friends.

Keir stared at the picture for a little bit. Trying to figure out whoever the owner was. Cause they obviously know him.

He looked around again. It wasn't very big place but comfy. It's even smaller than James loft.

"You're awake," a woman's voice announced at the door.

Keir dropped the picture startled from Mein's sudden entrance. He looked at her and then looked at the broken picture frame.

"Sorry," he said as he tried to kneel down to pick up the pieces of glass.

"It's okay, leave it," Mein told him as she moved closer.

She bent down and began cleaning before he could. Well that was a good idea the wound hurt too much.

She finished picking the pieces up, she threw them in the small trash can by the side then brought out a broom.

"You brought me here?" Keir asked as she continued sweeping the tinnier pieces.

"Yes, you were hurt pretty bad. You don't remember?"

"A little," he answered.

"Yeah well you hit your head too." She brushed the dirt in a pan and then the tiny trash can.

"Your heads already messed up enough already,"

She took the broom back the headed back in.

"You shouldn't be out of bed Keir," Mein stated with a tired worried look on her face.

"I just have to find something out," he answered her.

"Can't it wait?" She asked.

"No,"

"Kid, you are in no shape to be moving." She motioned at his wounds. A fully visible bandage around his head and stomach. Some stitches and Band-Aids around his arm and face. "You shouldn't be moving, right, now."

"You don't understand," Keir argued.

"Make me,"

He hesitated, gritting his teeth.

"Well explain to me why you would set explosives and forget to run."

"That wasn't me," Keir let out.

Mein raised an eyebrow at the boy.

"What do you mean it wasn't you?"

"I mean I did set up explosives, but I didn't blow the place up." He cleared up. "Someone else did."

"What do you mean?" She asked again.

"I…. I don't know exactly but some kid got caught in it while looking for me."

"Jonathan?" Mein checked. She got off with some people about the incident and heard that only that kid got hurt and they didn't mention anything about Keir.

Keir turned to her. "Yeah, do you know what happened to him ? Is he alright?"

"I don't know exactly but he's in hospital and it doesn't sound too good."

"Oh…." He looked away, his shoulder slightly slumping. "It's my fault."

Mein shook her head. Then put her hand on his shoulder. He shivered slightly from her cold hand.

"You'll think about the kid later," she said. "Right now we need to focus on who set the explosives, if it wasn't you,"

"It wasn't me," he clarified.

"Alright I believe you."

He looked up at her not expecting her to actually listen.

"Also it wasn't your fault it was the person that set the explosives."

"But the kid was looking for me,"

"It's okay kid, it's okay you couldn't have controlled that one." Mein rubbed his back a little.

"But come on, you need to get back to bed. We'll continue this after you get some more rest."

She began leading him to the bedroom with a gentle hand. He let her. He was tired already and everything still hurt.

"You're a little wet," he said looking down at her clothes.

"I was washing your blood out of my car," she answered.

Mein helped him back in bed, he bit back a slight cry of pain.

He was laying down but it still hurt so much.

"I'll get something to help with that." She noticed the expression of pain across his face.

He didn't say anything but she left and came back, with a tiny medicine box. She pulled out a small bottle and syringe. She emptied the bottle's contents into the syringe.

"Give me your hand," she said and Keir just did as told.

Mein cleaned the area then injected the painkillers in.

"There we go." She said, pulling needle out.

"It's going to make you drowsy, so don't fight it."

He nodded, "thanks,"

"No need," she said and then checked his wound, "You're an annoyance but you're still Evren's kid."

The medicine was working and the pain was getting dull but he was also starting to feel sleepy.

Mein sat next to him, pulling her fingers through his dark hair. While he slowly began to fall asleep. His eyes finally closed and he was quiet.

He really has grown, she was sure Evren and Edna would love to see that he's still compassionate.

She kept stroking his hair as he slept for a little longer. Until she stopped and went to make him something for when he wakes up.

[whumpthemusical]

Whump: The Musical Prompts!!

As stated before, this challenge will run from March 1- March 31, 2024. All fandoms are welcome to participate despite it being prompts based off of musicals. Once again, all types of media are allowed. This challenge has the standard "choose one for the day" style, but feel free to do all three prompts if that's what you want to do!! All types of whump are allowed, but please be respectful to your fellow audience members and properly tag it!! Some of these prompts are sensitive, so make sure you warn your readers correctly! There will be an ao3 collection and an FAQ post coming soon, so if you have any further questions or comments about this challenge, feel free to drop me a line. Happy writing, my beautiful ingénues, and enjoy the show :)))

The prompts will be listed under the cut for those who have difficulty reading fonts!!

Cats- Sabotage • Second Chances • "I Can Dream Of The Old Days."

Wicked- Mob Mentality • Propaganda • "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished."

Jesus Christ Superstar- Whipping • Betrayal • "Then I Was Inspired, Now I'm Sad And Tired."

Les Mis- Survivor's Guilt • Failure • "Drink With Me To Days Gone By."

Heathers- Poison • Reluctant Whumper • "Wanna fight for me?"

Newsies- Chronic Pain • Exploitation • "Let 'Em Laugh In My Face, I Don't Care."

The Last Five Years- Infidelity • Gaslighting • "I Will Not Lose Because You Can't WIn."

Hadestown- Deals • Doomed Narrative • "Doubt Comes In."

Sweeney Todd- False Imprisonment • Razors • "Have You Decided It's Safer In Cages?"

Rent- Substance Abuse • Poverty • "Feels Too Much Damn Like Home."

Bare: A Pop Opera- Outing • Religious Trauma • "Please, See Me."

Waitress- Unplanned Pregnancy • Abuse • "She Is Broken And Won't Ask For Help."

Tick Tick Boom- Atychiphobia • Working To Exhaustion • "Is This Real Life?"

Dear Evan Hansen- Deception • Broken Bone • "Words Fail."

West Side Story- Star-Crossed Lovers • Prejudices • "A Boy Who Kills Cannot Love."

Come From Away- Stranded • Aftermath • "Blankets And Bedding And Maybe Some Food."

Spring Awakening- Withheld Information • Suicide  • "I Don't Scream, Though I Know It's Wrong."

Hamilton- Hurricane  • Dueling • "I Will Kill Your Friends And Family To Remind You Of My Love."

Falsettos- Sickness • Identity Issues • "Death Is Not A Friend."

Into The Woods- Blame • Lost • "Nothing But A Vast Midnight."

The Great Comet- Abduction • Letters • "Did You Love That Bad Man?"

In The Heights- Grief • Homesickness • "I Know That I'm Letting You Down."

Be More Chill- Mind Manipulation • Panic Attack • "Everything About Me Makes Me Want To Die."

Moulin Rouge- Class Differences • Sex Work • "Come What May."

Chicago- Cold Blood • Trial • "He Had It Coming."

Six- Execution • Trauma Bonding • "Playtime's Over."

Ride The Cyclone- Unexpected Tragedy • Forgotten Whumpee • "I Hear The Anguish Of The Street."

The Rocky Horror Show- Obsession • Wrong Place, Wrong Time • "I've Seen Blue Skies Through The Tears."

Nerdy Prudes Must Die- Bullying • Ritual • "Who Will Pray For You?"

Jekyll And Hyde- Duality • Good Vs Evil • "If I Die, You'll Die."

Phantom Of The Opera- Disfiguration • Shunned • "My Power Over You Grows Stronger Yet."