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The Chosen One™ is on the brink of death in The Final Battle™.

They are struggling to keep themselves alive, telling themselves that they are a failure if they do die while at the same time denying themselves that they were only a living weapon.

The spirit of death coaxes the hero to finally give in and come with it, they need to rest and finally close their eyes, and they will be alright if they just finally let go.

content: hero whump i guess, injury, near death, living weapon whump

“They don’t care about you.”

Whumpee coughed, letting more blood splatter on the ground before them. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter whether anyone cared about them. They barely cared about themself — but what they did care about was the entire world that was resting on their shoulders.

“Shut up,” they rasped.

They’d seen the spirit of death before. They’d met her several times, in particularly gruelling battles, but she’d never spoken to them. Were they this close to dying now?

“I could show you a whole new world,” she went on, unbothered. She reached out a hand, almost close enough that Whumpee could touch it. “A world free of suffering and sorrow.”

“I have a world already!” they snapped. “And I’m going to save—” Another coughing fit cut their monologue short, and the spirit took another step towards them.

“Come with me, little hero. Come with me and rest.”

“I can’t!” They pushed themself up, stubborn as a mule.

“One day I’m going to claim them all, you know.”

Whumpee looked into her eyes with flaming determination as they wiped the blood from the corners of their mouth. “Not today.”

#other people's writing #living weapon whump

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Whumper-Turned-Caretaker CYOA 7

CW for the series | Masterlist

You chose to explain that you’ve had a change of heart.

You’ve got to give them some explanation. Whumpee might not have reason to believe you right away, but they need to know regardless so they don’t have to be as afraid. Hopefully how gentle you’ve been today will lend at least a little credence to what you have to say.

“Whumpee, we need to talk.—It’s nothing bad, you’re not in trouble or anything. I just—there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” they peep softly. They meet your gaze, nervous as always but giving you their full attention.

How do you even say this? “I…don’t feel good about hurting you like I have been anymore. I don’t want to keep treating you badly. I’d like to treat you better now. Help you recover, hopefully. I’m not going to harm you anymore, you understand?”

“Yes sir,” they say, but you can tell it’s an automatic response rather than actual agreement. Still, they seem to mull it over after, searching your words for truth or hidden meanings, as if they are actually considering what you said regardless of how they first responded.

OK. Whether they fully believe it or not, at least they know. You've got another hour or so until you'll need to turn in for the night. And since you gave them time to rest earlier, Whumpee's not looking too tired yet. Maybe they could use a low stress activity now that their most serious needs are taken care of.

On the other hand, you could just let them go now that you’ve had the chance to explain yourself. But you are hesitant to risk them going to the police, and you’re not certain whether or not that would be best for Whumpee at this stage anyway.

Taglist: (split into fives because the tungle is being dumb)

@kabie-whump, @whumpanthems, @whumpsoda, @3-2-whump, @generic-whumperz,

@taterswhump, @alivenova, @whumped-by-glitter, @expressionless-fr, @whumpycries,

@whumpsday, @moons-cozy-corner, @echo-goes-aaa, @whumplr-reader, @starfields08000,

@whump-blog, @ivymyers, @currentlyinthesprial

#Reblogging now because I posted this one hours earlier than usual

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I know I’ve said this before but vampires

don’t show up on camera

can fly/scale walls

immune to bullets

can break into any safe by turning into fog or some bullshit

could probably hypnotize security guards as needed

therefore I am in dire need of a heist film where a group of vampires band together to steal back their old stuff from museums

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Calling myself out with this meme tbh

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"ai is making it so everyone can make art" Everyone can make art dipshit it came free with your fucking humanity

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I get so excited every time I see your whump CYOA. It's so fun!

Aaa thank you anon, this makes me really happy to hear! I'm glad you're enjoying!

#😁 #asks #anon ask

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Whumper-Turned-Caretaker CYOA 7

CW for the series | Masterlist

You chose to explain that you’ve had a change of heart.

You’ve got to give them some explanation. Whumpee might not have reason to believe you right away, but they need to know regardless so they don’t have to be as afraid. Hopefully how gentle you’ve been today will lend at least a little credence to what you have to say.

“Whumpee, we need to talk.—It’s nothing bad, you’re not in trouble or anything. I just—there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” they peep softly. They meet your gaze, nervous as always but giving you their full attention.

How do you even say this? “I…don’t feel good about hurting you like I have been anymore. I don’t want to keep treating you badly. I’d like to treat you better now. Help you recover, hopefully. I’m not going to harm you anymore, you understand?”

“Yes sir,” they say, but you can tell it’s an automatic response rather than actual agreement. Still, they seem to mull it over after, searching your words for truth or hidden meanings, as if they are actually considering what you said regardless of how they first responded.

OK. Whether they fully believe it or not, at least they know. You've got another hour or so until you'll need to turn in for the night. And since you gave them time to rest earlier, Whumpee's not looking too tired yet. Maybe they could use a low stress activity now that their most serious needs are taken care of.

On the other hand, you could just let them go now that you’ve had the chance to explain yourself. But you are hesitant to risk them going to the police, and you’re not certain whether or not that would be best for Whumpee at this stage anyway.

Taglist: (split into fives because the tungle is being dumb)

@kabie-whump, @whumpanthems, @whumpsoda, @3-2-whump, @generic-whumperz,

@taterswhump, @alivenova, @whumped-by-glitter, @expressionless-fr, @whumpycries,

@whumpsday, @moons-cozy-corner, @echo-goes-aaa, @whumplr-reader, @starfields08000,

@whump-blog, @ivymyers, @currentlyinthesprial

#interactive whump #interactive #interactive fiction #choose your own adventure #choose your own adventure poll #whump poll #cyoa #whump cyoa #whump #whumper turned caretaker #whump writing #original fic #writing #whumpblr #whumper turned caretaker cyoa #my writing #my posts

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An Axe, A Forest - 3

The weapon had lost track of how much time had passed since that door opened. She'd slept a little. Maybe. But food hadn't been delivered so maybe she hadn't. Her stomach gnawed at her ribs like an unhappy animal at the bars of its enclosure and she bent over her knees to stifle the noise.

The darkness was oppressive, choking every thought that tried to form in her mind. She tried to recall the faces of her family, of the soldiers she was in basic with. Hell, she even tried to remember what she, herself, looked like. All she could find was formless smoke where her face should be.

Floating between dizzying sleep and motion sick wakefulness, Fugue became aware of the boots on the floor outside her door. Her heart started slamming a wild dance against her sternum and she pressed further into the corner, shielding her face from the white-hot rectangle of light that pierced through the dark.

“AEX-1307, do not move.”

The Handler. Voice sharp, command clear. The weapon stayed as still as she could, long dirty fingernails digging into the skin of her legs as she waited.

Steps. Her brows pinched. More than one set.

Pain studies were taught by multiple hands, multiple boots. This was training, then. She could handle it.

But no blows came.

The Handler was speaking again, his voice shifted into something quiet and poisonous. A shuddering breath, a shuffle of feet on the dirt. The snap of an ordered “Sit”.

There was a great thump of something dropped onto the floor before the booted feet walked one, two, three, four, five, six, back to the door.

“AEX-1307, meet DGA-67. Maintain ‘friendly’ command unless otherwise directed. Understood?”

“Yes, Handler.” The weapon croaked, still unmoving. Her throat burned with unspoken questions.

“DGA-67. Command ‘docile’ now in effect.”

“Yes, Handler.”

That was a new one. A new voice. From the middle of the floor. The weapon’s breathing quickened and grew louder as the door closed. There was someone else in the room. A person? Another weapon?

She wasn't sure what to do with this. The dark swallowed her once more and she fought with her body to quiet it as she listened.

Fast, wispy inhales. A wheeze on the exhale. Something scratching in the dirt. The rattle of metal. A deeper inhale.

“Hello?” The newcomer, DGA, spoke into the empty space between them. Fugue straightened her back slowly and turned towards the speaker.

“I'm here.” It was like she choked on a sob as she spoke. It had been so long.

“Where? I can't see.”

“Keep talking. I'll follow.”

DGA spoke in a tiny voice, not sure what to say but speaking anyways, as Fugue crawled towards them on her hands and knees. It was an achingly long moment before she got close enough to feel the puffs of breath from the other weapon.

Her fingers found a knee under ragged, scratchy fabric, then they found a hip, a stomach. DGA felt along Fugue's back and shoulders.

Both of them were shaking as they embraced.

The hug was tight, full of screams that wouldn't come and tears that came in quantities that would flood the world. Fugue could feel the newcomer's heart beating rapidly against her own. Her hand found the back of a closely shaved head and pressed DGA’s face into her shoulder and started rocking.

“What's your name?”

“I don't- it's Dog. They call me fucking Dog.”

—---------------

“Fugue? Hey.” The captain snapped his fingers before her face, making her blink and refocus her gaze on him.

“I apologize, sir. What did you ask?”

“I wanted to know about this individual called Dog. They have her listed alongside you on several training reports.”

Fugue felt her mouth going sour and she clasped her hands before her, squeezing them so hard it hurt. Dog. Friendly. Train.

Sacrifice.

“Yes, sir. What did you need to know?”

The captain eyed her reaction, humming in his throat before continuing. “How long did you work together?”

“One month.” The answer came quick, easy. Her previous Handler told her that was the right way to answer a superior.

“You both were trained in irregular warfare tactics and close quarters combat and were housed together. Does that feel correct?”

Fugue inhaled slow and deep, thinking back to the sessions at the facility.

The two of them, left alone in that room for what must have been days, were eventually pulled, washed and dressed, and thrown into a training session with only one directive: kill the red targets.

Specifically, the Handler said “AEX and DGA, we are working with a new command today. ‘Hunt’.”

The lights of that room dimmed to a merciless ultraviolet and the two weapons, each given a pistol and a knife, moved into the room with their bodies pressed close. Sound pumped into the room, low vibration making the floor shake under their feet with intense bass. Every 60 seconds, the Handler's voice rang out through the speakers in the corners of the room.

“Hunt.” Was all he said. When a kill was achieved, either by Fugue or by Dog, his voice would become warm and he'd practically purr “Good work” to them.

The exercise lasted 20 minutes.

All red targets were annihilated, but Fugue had taken a slice along her thigh. She was dragged from Dog to receive medical attention, rough hands holding her down as she was stitched closed, and she was returned to the closet where she found Dog waiting. They crawled to one another, whispering, discussing, soothing. Dog's fingers pressed into sore muscles and Fugue dragged her nails lightly over the other weapon's scalp.

It was in this way that their training continued for the month they worked together. Pulled, trained, treated, returned. Some days, the pain studies came for them both and they were forced to listen to the other as they were made to endure agonizing, torturous beatings. Fugue insisted that it was to help them learn to tolerate pain.

Dog said it was abuse.

Back in her new handler's office, Fugue smiled sadly and nodded. “Yes, that's correct. We learned a lot together. She was a good teammate.”

The captain didn't ask for more. He got what he needed.

“I want you to go and eat something, but you should stop by the med wing first. Tabor wants to run some tests with you before the day gets on too long. Is that clear?”

The weapon nodded. “Med wing, then food.”

“Good work.” Fugue felt heat blossom in her chest at the words. “You can find Tabor back down the hall, past the kitchen on the right. If he is not there, get breakfast and visit him after. Dismissed.”

Fugue stood, snapping to attention to salute her handler before turning on her heel in an about face and leaving to complete her tasks. Back past the kitchen she went, listening once more to the conversation of her fellow soldiers as they ate. Something in her belly ached to join them, to sit and be seen, but her legs forced her forward with such a pace that she was nearly panting by the time she made it to the medic’s room.

It was obviously a living room at some point, but it had been gutted and transformed into a miniature hospital. Monitors of all kinds decorated a wall above a hydraulic metal table. Towards the opposite wall, there were three empty beds in a row near a beautiful pair of glass doors leading out to a garden. By the table, a desk had been set up and Tabor himself was scrolling through something on the computer there.

“Be right with you.” He called, not turning his head. His accent was Southern, Fugue decided, lilting as it rolled over his tongue. She stood, hands loose at her sides, and took him in.

The man was tall, she knew that, and lanky as taffy being pulled by hand. His hair was black and left as long as he could get away with. He had a scar over his nose and down one cheek and, when he finally looked at her, his eyes were the silver gray of mercury.

And his grin was infectious.

“Well, our resident weapon has decided to grace me with her presence. Come in, please. Have a seat on that table, yeah? Let me get a look at you.”

The weapon moved to obey, hopping up into the table as the medic stood and approached her. He didn't come all the way to her, not right away. He stopped exactly 2 feet from the weapon and those soft gray eyes scanned her from head to toe.

“You remember me from last night?” The question was weightless, calm. Genuine.

“Yes, sir. You're the medic for the unit.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Good! And you're called Fugue. Is that a comfortable name for you?”

Comfortable? “It's… my name.”

“Hmm. You're right, of course. Now, Fugue, I'd like to come closer and give you an examination. I have records from the WSMT facility with your medical files attached but I like to collect that information myself for each of my teammates. Do I have your permission to do so with you?”

Fugue stared.

She watched the man tilt an eyebrow up towards his hairline as he waited for her reply. Her lips felt like they were buzzing. There was no answer for him.

“Fugue?”

“I don't understand the question, sir.”

“I was looking for your consent to come closer.” He clarified. The weapon sat still, hands braced on the edge of the table with her green eyes nearly vacant. Tabor sighed and held up both hands. He could see those eyes track over the width of his palms and the length of his fingers.

“I understand that was hard for you. It's okay. Let me try again.” He smiled, scars crinkling a bit. “I am going to approach you. I'm going to come to stand by your right knee. I am going to take your vitals first, so I'll be using this stethoscope. Do you understand?”

“I understand, sir.” There. Her expression switched, no longer vacant but now keen and willing. He almost felt sick.

“Good. Thank you.” He moved slowly, hands still plainly in sight. The man walked forward and did exactly as he said he would. The heat flowing off his body felt almost soothing on her knee as he unwrapped the stethoscope from around his neck.

“Now, I'll need access to your chest. Would you please remove your shirt if you are comfortable doing so?” There was that hesitation again. Confusion. But she pulled the shirt off from the bottom so she was left sitting in only a dark blue sports bra. Tabor's eyes widened as he took her in.

“Well, fuck.”

#other people's writing #whump #living weapon whump

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The amount of times I've googled something for whump and it's pulled up the suicide hotline....Like thanks, Google, but I'm not doing this to myself I'm doing it to a made-up guy

#whump #writing #suicide mention #though it's such a mild mention I think it's really not worse than reading the word in that tag ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Shop , Patreon , Books and Cards , Mailing List

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Freelancing in technical theater means you’re on a lot of different email lists. People need a crew, they send out an email, you respond with your availability. Now, most people start these with things like “hey folks” or “hi everyone”. Neal is not most people.

His openers started off innocent enough.

Then, he started to push boundaries.

And as you can see, it has spiraled out of control since then.

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For something a bit different, here's a silly little video of a silver gull hunting flies. The area had been hit by a storm recently which washed massive amounts of kelp and other sea weed onto the beach which in turn attracted enormous numbers of flies.

#animals

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i've heard about yandere whumper and whumpee as the object of their affections. but what about yandere whumper with whumpee as their rival? perhaps their obsession's current partner, or just someone who has feelings for them or vice versa. whumper can't just let whumpee get in the way of their love, now can they?

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People liking your personal OCs is still such a crazy feeling, I've been doing this for years and ppl asking about them still fills my entire heart with warmth and idk how to handle it

You enjoy this fictional guy I made up for fun?? Whose only content is random artwork or writing made by me and a handful of other artists at most? They have no show/book/game with a large fandom, it's just one person with an art blog?? I love u

#It's also a special feeling to be the one liking someone else's OCs #To get obsessed with a blorbo that only a relatively small group of people know about #To be able to interact with the creator directly and not be just another of many fans. #Maybe even become friends with the artist! #No big publisher or corporation watering down unique ideas to make them more palatable to the masses #Sometimes just one person with an art blog is better than something with a large fandom.

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nigh-indestructible nonhuman in an abusive relationship with a completely normal human.

because the nonhuman can take so much damage, they don't see their partner's behavior as that big of a deal. they can take it, it's not like it hurts them in any way that matters, right?

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Patient File: MO-1620

As with most other things, this has been burning in my brain for the last however long and I need to exorcise it by writing it down

TWs: captivity (imprisonment), discussions of self-worth, discussions of anxiety, discussions of trauma, self-flagellation, references to murder (including child murder), referenced but not discussed self-harm and suicidal ideation

The following is a transcript of Inmate MO-1620's visits with the facility psychologist and counselor, Dr. Juan Castillo. These documents contain confidential information. If you have received them in error, please destroy them immediately and notify the phone number on the cover sheet. Failure to do so may result in a felony punishable by a fine in any amount not exceeding $5,000, or imprisonment of not more than 5 years, or both, together with the costs of prosecution. For privacy, inmate names have been redacted in all places that they appear.

This document has been translated from Spanish to English, per written request.

BEGINNING OF TRANSCRIPT

XX/XX/XXXX - Session X

JC: Hello, XXXXX, it's good to meet you. You don't have to be nervous, this isn't a bad visit.

MO-1620: Can I ask why I'm here? They don't...usually let people talk to me.

JC: Of course. You're here because there's been talk of you being released early. I'm going to determine if you're ready for that over the next few weeks.

MO-1620: I...they can't do that. They shouldn't release me.

JC: Why is that?

MO-1620: You've seen my records. You know...you are aware of what I've done. They shouldn't let me out.

JC: I have seen your records. I've also seen your records of conduct during your sentence. I think you're a suitable candidate for release.

MO-1620: My conduct here does not mean anything. This isn't the real world.

JC: I think it does. I know during the incident in July, you didn't fight back. You chose to walk away.

MO-1620: It was not a situation that needed to be escalated. Anyone could see that XXXXX was...not in his right mind. He got bad news, I accidentally bumped into him on my way back from my yard time. I got hit. It was nothing to fight over. The guards got him away before anything could even happen, anyway.

JC: Most people in that situation would've fought back. Why didn't you? You hadn't done anything wrong.

MO-1620: It wasn't necessary. I don't like...I don't like hurting people. I don't want to hurt anyone again.

JC: So following that logic, why are you not a good candidate for early release?

MO-1620: I didn't want to hurt the people I killed, either. I still did it when I was told to. I can't be trusted with freedom.

JC: XXXXX, you were in a difficult position. Youngest member of your team, given the most unpleasant tasks, and threatened with punishment if you didn't fulfill them. You reported everything that was happening, as well, to the public and media. Don't you think that deserves some consideration?

MO-1620: No.

JC: Why not?

MO-1620: Those are excuses given to justify behavior. I've burned people alive. I've killed entire towns with nothing but my casting gloves and a handgun. People have begged me for their lives, for their children's lives, and I ignored them. You cannot ever justify that. You cannot justify any of that.

JC: Your hands are shaking. Are you angry at me?

MO-1620: No.

JC: Are you upset?

MO-1620: No. I am sick. I'd like to go back to my cell, please.

JC: Alright, lean back and I'll call someone in.

XX/XX/XXXX- Session X

JC: Welcome back, XXXXX. How are you feeling?

MO-1620: I'm nervous.

JC: What has you nervous? Nothing will happen to you in here.

MO-1620: I know. I...am just a nervous person, I think. You are...you are kind, though. I apologize for how I ended our last session.

JC: No, I think that was the healthiest thing you could've done. Leaving a situation to calm down is a good way to deal with hard emotions when you don't have other options.

MO-1620: That's very generous of you to say. I felt like I was being dramatic. Throwing a tantrum.

JC: I didn't think so. I do think that you tend to judge yourself very harshly, though.

MO-1620: I don't understand what you mean.

JC: You seem like you take a very harsh stance on your own actions, with very little room for compassion or understanding.

MO-1620: I have to make sure that I don't slip up. I'm...very dangerous.

JC: I don't think you're dangerous. You have the potential for danger, just like anyone else, but I don't feel like I'm in danger right now.

MO-1620: Of course not. The people who raise lions and tigers in their home don't feel like they're in danger, either. But something always happens.

JC: Are you just a lion or a tiger, trapped in someone's home?

MO-1620: I might as well be. I can't hurt people in here. I don't see anyone that I could hurt. It's safest for me to be here.

JC: Don't you feel lonely staying in here?

MO-1620: I do. That's alright.

JC: Why is it alright?

MO-1620: I think being lonely is the least I could do.

JC: Can you elaborate on that?

MO-1620: I took people's families from them. Partners, friends, there are a lot more lonely people in the world now, because of me.

JC: You being lonely won't bring them back

MO-1620: It won't. But neither will me living a life that those people won't ever get to experience again. I still don't understand why my sentence was so light compared to the others.

JC: So you should be punished until you die?

MO-1620: I think so, yes.

JC: That's not a very healthy mindset.

MO-1620: Why should I get the privilege of health?

JC: You're a human being, I think every human being deserves health.

MO-1620: I think that's a bit of a stretch.

JC: Are you not a human being?

MO-1620: No, not anymore. I threw that away when XXXXX told me to start razing XXXXX and I did it.

[Two minutes of silence follow]

MO-1620: I think I'd like to go back to my cell, please, Doctor Castillo.

DD/MM/YYYY - Session X

JC: XXXXX, it's good to see you again. How have you been these last few weeks?

MO-1620: It...is good to see you too. I...have been better. I have also been worse, though.

JC: It's important not to get caught up in minimizing your own pain just because you've experienced worse.

MO-1620: I...I apologize.

JC: My feelings aren't hurt. What has you feeling bad?

MO-1620: I just can't understand what you see in me. It's confusing. I've done some of the worst things someone can do. How could I ever be fit to go back to...to a normal life?

JC: I focus on your current behavior, not your past.

MO-1620: Why is that...okay? Why do you do that?

JC: People can change. Not everyone will, but some people can. I think you're a different person than you were when you hurt those people.

MO-1620: What makes you so sure? I...I feel the same. I don't think I'm any different.

JC: Change isn't some big, sweeping thing. Not permanent change, anyway. It has to be small, and gradual. Sometimes we don't even notice it. I think you've been doing that. I've seen the books you've been checking out. Why have you been focusing on self-help and communication books?

MO-1620: I want...to understand people better. I don't understand others very well. It makes things hard.

JC: Someone who didn't care about hurting others wouldn't care about understanding them.

MO-1620: Maybe. You talk like I deserve to be forgiven, though.

JC: I think it should be on the table. You might not be able to forgive yourself now, but I don't think it should be off-limits forever.

MO-1620: That is not mine to give, though.

JC: Forgiveness?

MO-1620: Yes. Forgiveness for how I hurt others is not something I get to give to myself. That doesn't make sense. I wasn't the one hurt.

JC: I think you were.

MO-1620: How was I hurt? I did the hurting. It's selfish to make this about me and my feelings.

JC: These sessions are all about you. If there's a time to explore something that feels selfish, now is the perfect time. I can't imagine it was fun to do all of that.

MO-1620: There was adrenaline, but...you're right. It wasn't something I liked. I didn't want to do it.

JC: You wanted to stop so badly that you almost beat someone to death.

MO-1620: I...did. I did that, yes. It was not the way I should've handled it. I shouldn't have touched our superior officer.

JC: But nothing else worked. You don't immediately jump to violence. Should you never be forgiven for hurting your superior officer?

MO-1620: No, I shouldn't. I think he deserved it, but I still shouldn't forgive myself for it. I'm not a good judge of what is right or wrong.

JC: Because you trusted the people in charge of you?

MO-1620: Because I knew better, and still made excuses. I made excuses to myself until I couldn't look either my leader or super in the eye without wanting to vomit. I should've taken the torture training instead. I should've accepted the punishments. They couldn't kill me and get away with it, and I knew that. I should've done anything but what I did. The only thing I did right was turn us all in.

JC: I think most people would've done what you did in your position.

MO-1620: I don't think that makes it okay, or forgivable.

JC: I think it does. I think you don't want to admit that it was traumatic to go through all of that, because you happened to also hurt others. But it wasn't fun. I think it hurt you a lot to do those things. I think it was scary to have those threats made if you didn't obey orders.

MO-1620: I...I think I deserve to hurt like this, though. It's fair.

JC: It's fair?

MO-1620: I shouldn't ever forget, or get too comfortable. If it helps me remember, and if it helps me stay in line...I think it's fair. I'll take that.

JC: I see. Would you like a tissue, XXXXX?

MO-1620: ...Yes. Yes, please.

JC: Take your time, and then I'll let them take you back. I think it's a good time to end today.

MO-1620: Thank you, Doctor Castillo.

XX/XX/XXXX - Session X

JC: Hello again. XXXXX. You don't look well, are you feeling alright?

MO-1620: I haven't been sleeping very well. The guards tell me that you are saying I should be released next month. I...I don't understand.

JC: You've demonstrated self-restraint, self-awareness, and a deep remorse for your actions. You haven't participated in so much as an argument in your years here, either. Unless you've somehow managed to fool someone who's caught serial killers in their games, you aren't going to re-offend.

MO-1620: I...I am very afraid, Doctor Castillo. I do not know how to...to say how I'm feeling. It doesn't feel like you've been listening to me at all.

JC: I've been listening more than you think I have. You are...what, XX years old? I've been doing this since before you were born, XXXXX. I've talked to guys who've done what you did before. You're not my first violent offender. You know how many have begged me to stay here, because they were afraid they'd hurt someone else?

MO-1620: Not...many?

JC: You have. You and one other have begged to stay. The rest have all but promised me their first-born to get out of here early. So no. You will not be staying.

MO-1620: What if I mess up again? What if more people end up dead? I cannot handle that. I don't know what I'd do if that happened.

JC: You don't have to know. No one else will die because of you, because you aren't going to do that again. You don't trust yourself enough to even come close to being in a position to do that again. I'd be surprised if you felt confident enough to care for a pet rock when you're released. You will be fine out there.

[One minute of silence follows. Unintelligible noises can be heard, but the recording is too low quality to discern the source. The noise gradually becomes clearer and can be identified as MO-1620 crying.]

JC: Alright, none of that, hands on the chair arms. Good, good. Just like that. Breathe. Here are the tissues. I'll tell them to take you back. Not to your cell yet, you're on a watch. You can go back to your cell afterwards, then we'll get you ready to get out of here.

[A beep can be heard]

JC: Can I get Rodriguez in here? No, no. Nothing like that. Yeah, looks like a panic attack. Just for a few days, maybe a week. Yes. Just to be sure he makes it to release date. No, we certainly don't need a repeat of the XXXXX situation.

[A door squeaks open]

Off. R: Is this...him? XXXXX XXXXX? The one who...

JC: Yes. I think he'll need some help--yes, it's safe. He won't hurt you, if he could I would've asked for Ortega. Just like this, at his elbow. There. I'll call Medical and ask them to send down something to help keep him calm.

JC: I'll check on you later, XXXXX. You'll be fine. Just breathe.

END OF TRANSCRIPT

My analysis of MO-1620 is such: He is safe to return to society. He has expressed marked improvements in behavior, judgement, and habits, along with regret and a strong desire to not re-offend. Additionally, the differences between his actions and those on his team are large enough that I support the proposal put forth by Judge Miranda.

Dr. Juan Castillo

Dr. Juan Castillo

XX/XX/XXXX

#other people's writing