“What did Whumper do to you, Whumpee?”

Can do!

CW: Whumper turned whumpee, torture very lightly implied, vengeful caretaker

part 2

It had been a week since Caretaker took Whumpee from them. They were thankful they weren't there when they came, knowing what Caretaker was capable of. They were ruthless and angry, especially with the condition they had left Whumpee in. 

So Whumper packed their bags, said goodbye to their burned down home, and left. They were almost excited, a fresh start, a new town and opportunities. With the key in hand, they cracked the door open and slumped their bags on the floor, their hand fumbling for the lightswitch after they shut the door.

The small table lamp clicked on, Whumper's breath stopped when they saw the silhouette of two legs crossed in the chair. The figure slowly cocked its head to the side as a quiet chuckle came from the darkness. The figure stood, stepping into the light as Whumper shakily took a step back.

"No... No that's not possible! You couldn't have found me, not after every precaution I took...!" Whumper rasped.

Caretaker just smiled with a shrug, their hand slowly reaching for the lamp as they flicked it off, the room crippling into darkness.

Whumper gasped as they spun around, blindly feeling for the doorknob with desperation. As soon as their fingertips grazed the handle, two hands shot out around their lips and waist, throwing them back as they hit the floor with a muffled grunt. 

Then they heard distant chuckling surrounding them, before a clear and direct voice whispered in their ear- 

"You should have never hurt them"

next

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The dust and smoke that filled the air made Bucky’s eyes stream and his lungs burnt. It was horrific. And he could only imagine as he hurled himself into the quinjet for extraction. 

He was, as he took a headcount, the last one. Except. He scanned the assembled faces, all dust coated and coughing, once, twice. Three times. And his heart sank even as it pounded against his ribs. 

“Where’s Y/N?” he demanded, wheezing. 

Gilbert tore out a clump of grass before letting the wind carry it out of his hand. It had been many weeks since he’d first came here, and he knew this would soon end. They would realize he had failed his mission at some point, and one day soon he wouldn’t be allowed back, and he’d never see Ludwig again.

Right now, Ludwig was lying on his chest taking a nap. They had played football again and Ludwig had gotten tired, so they had decided to lay down in the grass. Gilbert couldn’t sleep though.

He was still having trouble admitting to himself that he did care about Ludwig, that he felt warm when he called him his brother, that when he was chained up and suffering that remembering the times he’d spent with Ludwig made it slightly more bearable.

But it was hard to fully let him in. What if he hurt him? What if he found out what kind of person he really was and leave him? He couldn’t handle that. So, when Ludwig had said ‘you’re like the brother I always wanted.’ Gilbert had simply forced a smile, and ruffled Ludwig’s hair.

He had never had a brother either, the only family he had had was his father, and he was only family in blood. If Gilbert were still alive he would change his last name to divide himself even further from that monster. For the longest time he had told himself he was his own family.

You recall my saying I was writing a rated-E explicit torture fic yesterday? Well! Best lines of the night! (That I feel are valid to share publicly)

-

[Image id: a screenshot of a document that reads: And there. That’s the terror they want. Ice dripping into his veins, needlepoint injections as he freezes. As he becomes a solid block of crystalized fear.

     The Aasimar took in the sight of torn flesh that was not his own; of tears and blood that was not his own; of begging, whimpering, crying, of desperation that was not his own.

     The sight was a foreign one that both fascinated and horrified him. And for a moment, just a brief second in time, Vinchand saw, and he understood.

     He understood the smiles, the words, the reason. For a brief time, he forgave them.

Blood, the stink of hot iron and searing flesh in the air. There was already so much pain. The monster grinned, gold eye reflecting the glow of the red-hot blade as it came closer and closer to his eye-

The scream died in Xion's throat as she gasped awake. She shot up in her bed, hands clutching the blanket over her chest. Her back heaved with the effort of trying to get her breathing under control; her ragged gasps devolved into tiny, stifled sobs in the night.

Roxas shifted and murmured in his sleep, and Xion froze as much as she could. The last thing she wanted was to wake her twin brother, and have to deal with telling him what she'd dreamed. What she'd seen. In her nightmares, it was Isa's body she inhabited while Xigbar visited all manner of horrors on him, but she had already seen so many of those horrors perpetrated on real people before. Strangers, but living people. Xion didn't want to have to even begin explaining that to Roxas.

But there was someone she did need to try to explain it to. Lea was so sad about it, and she'd tried so hard to be strong and not make him talk about it, but Xion couldn't stop thinking about it. Even months later, she still had recurring nightmares where Xigbar killed Isa in increasingly gruesome ways.

And they were getting worse.

Shivering, Xion slid out of bed. Her purple blanket was draped over the whole thing, and Roxas always slept so sprawled out there was no way she could reclaim it without waking him. Xion gave it one futile tug and gave it up. She would just have to face the dark without it.

Xion padded through the house to Lea's room and eased open the door.

“L-Lea…?” Her voice trembled, and Xion swallowed as she let herself in. “Lea, I-....” She barely waited to see if he was all the way awake before she dissolved into trembling, choked tears, hands curled near her collarbone.