#writing torture scenes

[whumpdaydreamerx]

Whumper forcing Whumpee to swallow something, whether it be a sedative, poison, maybe even the key to their own chains.

Whumper’s hand covering their mouth so they can’t spit it back out. Whumpee’s half lidded eyes pleading with Whumper as they maintain eye contact. Throat taut and Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as they struggle.

Clamping their eyes shut as they finally give in and whatever it is makes its way down to their stomach.

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #whump scene #whump prompt #whump tropes #forced feeding #chained whumpee #poison whump #drug whump #drugged whump #hand over mouth #torture #torture whump #neck whump #intimate whumper #pleading #my writing #whump community

[inoreuct]

thinking about zoro being the crew's main protector.

it’s quite literally his role amongst the straw hats; luffy's captain, usopp's their sniper, sanji cooks, nami navigates, chopper's their doctor, franky's their shipwright, jinbei's their helmsman and brook's their musician but zoro? zoro's their swordsman. zoro’s their guardian. his job is to be the first line of defense and protect everybody else so they can focus on doing their own thing and sure, none of them really need protecting— but they don't have to worry about defending themselves, either, because whoever they can't or don't want to handle zoro will finish up (if he hasn't gotten to them first).

like imagine a bunch of idiots cornering one of the crew (bad idea.) and picking nami because she's the woman without a devil fruit, as opposed to robin (BAD idea.). they've got her surrounded in the dead end of an alleyway and have somehow neutralised her clima-tact and she’s not worried, she’s not.

but against twelve men and with her weapon essentially now just a regular staff, she might be panicking. just a little. she’s gotten a couple of them good enough that they’re down for the count before a chain wrapped around her ankle trips her. it pulls at enough memories, faded but never forgotten, to bring up a sickening wave of fear and anger— and nami decides that she’s had enough of the bullshit.

she takes a deep breath and screams. “ZORO!”

the silence afterwards is deafening. the wind shifts, gently lifting the pieces of hair stuck to her sweaty face, and the men laugh uneasily. one of them yanks hard on the chain and she spits at him, heels scrabbling against the dusty ground even as he starts reeling her in like a fish on a hook. “he can’t hear you, little missy,” he snickers, grin widening the longer nobody shows up.

it’s still on his face when his head slides right off his neck.

blood sprays right before his body crumples like a doll. it takes a second for the others to realise and then the screaming starts— none of them get any farther than three steps before zoro’s cutting them down, swift swings of his sword and almost surgically precise slices rendering them incapacitated if not plain dead.

“sorry i’m late, witch.” the swordsman’s breathing hard, gore dripping off his blades even as he arcs one down and snaps the chain off nami’s leg with a growl. “did they hurt you?”

“no. no, i’m fine,” nami breathes, her smile quivering just a little— not because she’s shaken, no. because she’s pissed.

zoro’s voice is gruff as always, but his hands are careful if not outright gentle as he kneels to inspect her ankle before pulling her to her feet. “stay close,” he mutters, making sure that she’s nodded before cutting them a path through the fray. they bump into chopper next, and the doctor’s out cold over zoro’s shoulder in his regular form by the time sanji joins them to guard their flank. nami’s taken to just using her clima-tact as a bat for now, and it’s admittedly efficient.

she knew zoro would come. he always does. for all that they bicker and snip at each other, zoro has always protected his crew— even when said crew was just three people on what could barely be called a boat. he’d fought for her at arlong park and he fights for her now, his sword slicing over her head at an enemy she can’t see as she ducks low to jam her staff into another’s stomach.

they’ve moved closer to their ship when they find jinbei, then robin, then usopp, then brook and franky, and then zoro’s yelling luff, time to go! and their captain’s launching them all back onto the Sunny with a gleeful cackle that makes nami wheeze a laugh as they land in a mildly painful pile of limbs. somebody’s elbow digs into her ribs and she’s pretty sure that’s sanji’s bony kneecap pressed into her lower back. the swordsman swears as he sets about trying to pry them all apart and luffy seems to be actively fighting him, based on how his cursing’s getting more and more colourful.

behind them, their enemies burn, sliced to pieces. they debrief in the galley and zoro refuses to come away from the door until nami drags him by the ear and sanji threatens to personally shove dessert down his throat. they both know it’s because zoro’s still guarding them from a threat that doesn’t exist anymore.

they know he pretends not to care as much as he does. they know he keeps his words blunt and his swords sharp, but zoro lets luffy hang off him, unfazed, and makes a marginal effort to stick to nami’s budget even when he’s getting booze, and he eats his dessert. every last bit. he lets usopp fire moving targets to slice through so they can both practice. he keeps collateral damage when sparring with sanji to a minimum. he stitches whoever needs it up himself when chopper’s a little too tired.

and when his crew calls, he answers.

(now with a part from nami’s pov!)

#idk what this is #it was SUPPOSED to be a much angstier scene with nami getting borderline tortured before she cracks and screams for help #and zoro comes in swords blazing in full demon mode because how fucking dare. how dare someone touch his nakama #but i’ll spare you guys the pain (unless yall actually want me to write it lmao) #but also i love!! romance dawn trio!! #one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro #one piece zoro #strawhat pirates #straw hat pirates #mugiwara crew #nami and zoro are textbook wlw mlm solidarity but also #their friendship is something so special to me

[bleue-flora]

Ok, I recently wrote an essay [here] talking about the definition and duties of civil engineering as well as the ethics because of the brain rot @swordfright gave me with calling Dream Sam’s ultimate engineering project. So, because I actually am a civil engineer I took it upon myself to design the title and summary of quantities sheets just like I do at work for roads but with Dream as the project instead. And in honor of angst day sponsored by @sixteenth-day-event, I figured I’d share it because I feel like it kinda works for the prison of the mind prompt.

“Sam’s “ultimate engineering project” he deemed too damaged like a bumpy road or crumbling building that wasn’t worthy of patching and filling in the cracks or reinforcing, that’s too eroded to be fixed and preserved. So, Sam strived to tear him down to the bedrock so he could remake, remold, and reengineer Dream according to his design for the common safety, public health and well-fair.”

{These are very similar to the actual sheets I make day to day, which I shall not share for the sake of doxing my location, but yea pretty much everything has a significance. Some of it doesn’t necessarily make sense but that was because I was more so taking inventory of what we see in lore (so you know I counted ;) lol)}

#sixteenthdayevent #AAANNNNNGGST #Ah and now you see why I’ve been digging up all the prison lore and inventories ;D…. my brain rot is too powerful #still never got wardens torment enchants though :( did for the shovel and how which I’ll now have to write torture scenes for… #so ummm stay tuned for that in Misery Loves An Idiot… Dream going to have lots of fun I’m sure >:) #c!dream #dsmp #dreblr #dream smp #dsmp dream #dsmp analysis #dsmpblr #prison arc #dsmp art #pandora’s vault has a singular purpose #pandora’s vault #c!dream fanart #blue does art apparently #ah Sam… such a good engineer… if only he realized Dream was a person not a condemned structure oof #if y’all are curious enough I might share a irl work example with different numbers and stuff but didn’t want to bore you XD #happy angst day :)… wait isn’t that everyday? lol #can we talk about how I’ve done all of these prompts as descriptions of metaphors and stuff kinda funny #civil engineering

[whump-in-the-closet]

He didn’t realise what capture meant for his friend. For his never-smiling, always-glaring friend. His friend hid the fear so well. Hid it with sarcasm and long, trailing curses until their captor threatened to gag them.

When his friend spat in their captor’s face and was dragged away, he called out: “You can’t hurt them.”

And he believed it. They were iron-forged.

His friend didn’t come back for hours. Sometimes he could hear screams. Staccato, broken off screams, like they’d been cut off with a sharp blow.

When his friend was dropped to the cell floor—crimson hand-shaped smears left behind— the world snapped beneath his feet.

His friend couldn’t be—

That couldn’t be his friend.

Shoulders shaking as they sobbed? Their glare replaced with terror? No. No no nono—

Their captor came back for his friend. This time, he lunged against the chains. “Don’t fucking touch them!”

The screams came faster this time, dragging on and on and on.

He thought, if he could, he’d rip his ears off. If only to stop the screaming.

The bleeding screams. Open-mouthed horror. Why were the walls so thin?

His friend was kicked into the cell and they collapsed almost instantly. They didn’t move.

It was a long, quiet night.

In the morning, their captor laughed as they grabbed the bleeding shape that was their friend.

He spat the words out. “Coward! Take me instead!”

#whump #whump writing #whump prompt #whumpblr #whump community #whump ideas #whump scenario #whump scene #self sacrifice #cw captivity #cw torture #idk what i’m doing and it shows #whump drabble #i guess #idk if it’s long enough to be a drabble

[aquickstart]

ok sure i'll talk about farleigh start. i'll talk about his tragedy of never being enough as it were and then having to deal with fucking oliver. sure. disclaimer: it's about class (and race) and the horrible reality of the rich. the horrible reality of living as farleigh.

another disclaimer: i'm white! and poc definitely pick up on everything i'm talking about here as it is, and better. i was and am specifically interested in farleigh vs. oliver but it's impossible to examine without considering race. definitely let me know if anything abt this sucks!

farleigh and oliver are similar. it's annoying because every intruder that is not himself is annoying, partly because felix's attention swaying from farleigh is dangerous; there is always a threat of being discarded, even if no precedent existed. the potential is terrifying.

but you'd think he's seen this before, every summer (if venetia is telling the truth) or at least often enough to learn to recognize it fast, so he should know this will pass. part of it is i think still the deep anxiety, and i think he hated every boy that was there before, and it is sort of routine.

but definitely a huge factor in farleigh's annoyance is the fact that he's a biracial (black for cattons, that's all they see) man in a white rich household. he's alert and exhausted all the time. of course he's angry at oliver, regardless of whether he's the first to crash at saltburn for the summer or the fifty-first.

but the important thing is this.

farleigh is very jealous of and angry and pissed at oliver because farleigh sees all the similarities between them. outsider, in financial trouble, whatever it is, in need of cattons; and yet oliver is preferred. and farleigh seems to be the only one to really consider it. felix does not pick up on the hint when farleigh brings up the birthday party vs. his mother. felix's clumsy "different or... anything like that" is as much about race as it is about class, of course. the "we've done all that we can" bit is felix absolving himself of guilt because surely they had, surely the mysterious collective cattons that he's not really part of had tried all they could do. to him, farleigh is different from oliver, because farleigh has been helped. felix is rich and white and twofold uncomfortable with farleigh, even if he's nice about it, even if he genuinely enjoys his company; he doesn't look too close at farleigh because he feels too guilty to come too close. and farleigh can't do anything about it. he can't nice himself into it. the fucking tragedy of him is that he's never enough in the world of the ultra-rich white, even if (especially because!) he's born into it.

farleigh is very pissed at oliver because farleigh also sees all the differences between them. you know who can be nice poor white enough to fit in? fucking oliver. felix says "just be yourself, they'll love you" when oliver first moves in. farleigh was also probably told the same thing, and felix also probably believed that farleigh could just be himself, but even if the cattons were magically not racist at all (impossible), it wouldn't make a difference to farleigh. he would still self-censor, keep in check, be in dangerous waters (because racism is not just about the individual, but about the system). we see that he'd won himself leeway by years of trial and error by the way he speaks to the family, but it's still within the boundaries of acceptable, built by the cattons. he's part of them because they allow it, and farleigh is very, very aware.

the annoying thing is oliver can be himself. like, truly, genuinely, he can just be. and farleigh can't help but envy that.

as a side note, oliver is obviously jealous of farleigh in the beginning as well, because regardless of the reality of farleigh's situation, he was born into it, and hence, at least in oliver's mind, has his position solidified. oliver's whole thing is unquenchable thirst and hunger for whatever and everything the cattons have (including themselves!). he wishes to have been a catton from birth. to oliver, at first, there's nothing farleigh can really do to lose it. and until he figures out the cattons completely, he can't help but envy that.

but i think farleigh senses something different about oliver early on. at least on the level of the text, we have "you're almost passing [for] a real, human boy", which is so important because farleigh is the first to point out oliver's weirdness. the next to do so is venetia in the bath scene calling him a freak, but it's too late. farleigh is too early.

and i like to think he clocks oliver too early because he sees the jagged edges that he recognizes in himself. i think that one other thing that farleigh envies is oliver's freedom to let go. freedom to let go is very similar to freedom to be, but not quite the same.

to be is about perception: farleigh knows he cannot fall out of line, but would like to, and oliver does not have to worry about it at all (i mean, he does, because oliver also performs for felix, but farleigh doesn't know that).

to let go is about the self: farleigh is too scared to even want what oliver eventually does, to even consider the possibility. oliver can let himself want. oliver can let himself act. oliver just can do things and want things. i'm not sure farleigh can.

and so in this scene, when oliver's wants and actions have landed him nowhere with farleigh, felix, venetia, the cattons, of course farleigh gloats. he can let himself do that, because if the cattons are slowly discarding him, farleigh can allow himself this one small victory. he's relieved because despite the dangerous similarities, oliver is, thankfully, not really the same as farleigh, right?

but like. this movie is a love letter to all things gothic. oliver is a white man. he prevails. the brief performance that oliver put on did eventually end up more effective than farleigh's lifetime of constraint. my heart fucking breaks for him to be honest.

the issue that remains is the fact of farleigh's survival. i like to think that oliver came to respect him. oliver is smart, but farleigh is clever. he picks up on everything oliver does (to refer back to the karaoke scene, farleigh immediately retaliates in the cleverest way, in the moment), and he's the only one to do so consistently (venetia, again, for example, comes close, but too late; oliver doesn't like that, there's nothing to work with). hence, stay with me for a little longer, the paradox: farleigh survives because he was never enough for the cattons, but he is very worthy of oliver's attention. in his own freaky way, oliver wants him. look at that.

so. farleigh. farleigh might come back. he always comes back. and i think oliver wants to try harder next time.

#saltburn #farleigh start #i think someone mentioned how the race commentary was fleeting in that scene abt his mom but i disagree #it runs thru the whole movie #because oliver is white and because they're pitted against each other #im not saying its the best commentary ever and also like the movie is not about it at all #but it's there and it's pretty prominent #also on a completely different note can we talk about how oliver correctly assumed everyone at saltburn desires him carnally #dude pulled all the bitches by being strange and off-putting. i mean i completely get it. completely get it. i'd fold so fast you've no ide #also while i was writing i realized that yes indeed both farleigh and oliver perform for felix and its so fascinating #and it works for oliver because of course it does because hes white #anyway! again! let me know if this sucks #in like any way at all #i needed a masterpost of all and every thought i have about farleigh #i think this pretty much covers it so i'll let it go now #HES SO. like do you UNDERSTAND #the DEFINITION of doomed by the narrative but i LOVE that he survives #as he SHOULD #emerald is so right. he does come back and quickstart just torture each other in that house forever. besties for life #god im gonna shut up now this is so horrendously long #mine #saltburn journaling

[guys-in-distress-database]

Disturbing my writing mentors since 2014!

#I was writing torture scenes when I was 14 #and the look on my Mormon writing mentor’s face was something I’ll never forget lol #still disturbing college professors to this day lol #whump #whump meme

[raayllum]

me asking myself if callum would torture someone for information if rayla or ezran's lives were on the line

#tdp #snake boi callum #mine #memes #text post #post of all time. to me #tag ramble #personal fave #cause i really do love this gif #thinking about this bc i'm writing a scene where my OC protag does torture someone and #she's generally more extreme than callum is in general #and i was like 'would he do something like this?' #and not in the same manner (the one she picks is particularly cruel) #but my immediate response was 'no! callum would Never torture someone' #then my brain whispered 'for ezra tho?' and it was like #s i g h s . y e a h #rayla would threaten someone with her knives (hi terry <3) but i do wonder how much she'd actually hurt them #she'd hurt them at least a lil tho #ezran would be staunchly opposed bc he is a Good King lmao

[cpt-winters]

Heyo, got anymore team leader whump up your sleeve? I’m a sucker for selfless whumpees

←～(o ｀▽´ )oΨ

Heh, do I. Hope you enjoy (:

Team Captivity Whump - Leader Whumpee Part 2 (part 1)

Right Hand's eyes snapped up as the door to the dingy cell swung open. The string of profanities they'd prepared to hurl at their captor caught in their throat the second Whumper stepped in.

Earning a gasp from Medic, Whumper dragged Leader's battered, bloodied and near limp form in tow. His boots scuffed against the cement ground in feeble protest.

"You fucking bastard!" Right Hand yelled, muscles straining against their restraints.

"Thank you-" Whumper carelessly tossed Leader forward, allowing him to crumple to the floor in a heap. "-for your cooperation."

Ignoring the animalistic growl rumbling from one of the teammates, Whumper shoved their boot into Leader's ribs for good measure. Barely receiving a reaction, they took their leave without even chaining him back up.

"Sh-shit." Right Hand's eyes soaked in the deep gashes and burns riddling Leader's flesh. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It was meant to be me." At that moment, they were glad Youngest wasn't here to see this. At least they had evaded capture.

Face still buried in the floor, Leader gave a weak groan of a refusal. "'t's m...my job."

"What did..Whumper want?" Medic cut in, chains keeping them from offering Leader any support as he began peeling himself off the floor.

"Are you okay?" they tried again as he pulled himself toward the wall, sagging against it.

Leader's gaze dropped down to the heavy scarlet spray dappling his torso, and Medic cursed themselves for the foolish question.

"It's not-" His breath hitched as he smeared the red spatter on his face with the back of his hand. "Not all mine."

"Boss-" Right Hand started, at a loss for words for his leader's unrecognizable state. "What'd they do to you?"

Leader's clouded eyes lost their focus as a tremor travelled through his lower lip.

#whump #whump writing #team whump #team dynamics #team leader whump #leader whump #emotional whump #angst #whump scenes #broken whumpee #implied torture #stoic whumpee #sacrifice whump #breakdown #military whump #interrogation whump #protective caretaker #male whumpee #protective whumpee #angry caretaker

[whumperelle]

the water cure

(content warnings: torture, forced-feeding, noncon touch, restraints, general physical/psychological abuse, noncon master/slave dynamic)

water cure (torture): water cure is a form of torture in which the victim is forced to drink large quantities of water in a short time, resulting in gastric distension, water intoxication, and possibly death.

---

whumpee lay restrained on the table, their heart pounding in their chest, their mouth forcibly kept open by a device that tasted of rusted metal. whumper's trained hands were steady as they positioned a funnel over whumpee's mouth.

"this is necessary, slave. you need to learn," whumper said with a cold, clinical detachment. "when you ask for things you haven't earned, there are consequences."

whumpee had asked whumper for water earlier in the day. they didn't receive an answer - only a chuckle and a smirk that promised future consequences. now, whumpee's eyes widened in horror as whumper began to pour water down the funnel. they tried to swallow, to keep up with the relentless flow, but it was too much, too fast. their stomach began to distend painfully, their body's natural reflexes fighting against the unnatural influx of water.

they could hear whumper's voice, distant and distorted, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel. "you see, slave, this is how you learn obedience. you need to understand your place."

the pain was unbearable, the psychological torment even worse. whumpee felt like they were drowning, not just in the water but in the complete loss of their will, their autonomy.

whumpee's body shook with the effort to cope with the physical pain and humiliation. their eyes, red and wet with tears, conveyed a mixture of fear and remorse.

"i'm sorry, master," whumpee gasped out, their voice distorted by the device in their mouth. "i didn't mean to… I'm sorry."

whumper circled the table, looking down at whumpee with a twisted satisfaction. "you should be sorry. you brought this on yourself. you need to learn, slave. you need to understand who's in control here."

the cruelty in whumper's tone was unmistakable, their words designed to crush any remaining sense of self-worth in whumpee. each apology from whumpee seemed to fuel whumper's desire to break them further.

"you're nothing without me," whumper continued, their voice dripping with disdain. "remember this, slave. remember your place."

whumpee could do nothing but nod, their body and mind overwhelmed by the intensity of the ordeal. their apology was automatic, a conditioned response to the terror and pain inflicted upon them. in this moment, whumpee was lost in a haze of agony and despair, utterly at the mercy of the person who had claimed them as their own.

#whump #whumper #sadistic whumper #whump scenario #whump stuff #whumpblr #whump drabble #whump writing #whump scenes #conditioned whumpee #whump community #whump story #whumpee #captive whumpee #torture whump #content warning #physical whump #kidnapped whumpee #cruel whumper #restrained whumpee #whump blog #whump tropes #tbc possibly #whumperelle #water cure

[pokituu]

Owl AKA Rhynjip

#love her. been writing a lot of her scenes recently so drew her :) #though she's pretty obscure as far as TSC cats go. she's a Fen cat who trains in the strategist's faction with Woodsmoke #she's tiny for a boreal cat. rough around the edges with a chip on her shoulder but chill once she calms down #her theme song is worldwide torture by jazmin bean for an idea of her vibe lol. rock music intensifies #poks art #The Sun Constellation #Owl #Kith of the Shaded Fen #cat #feline #pokituu #solytuu #drawing #sketch #poks OCs

[whump-allthe-way]

multiple whumpee’s chained in a room together and forced to watch each others torture, their wrists running red as they scream and beg for it stop, quiet sobbing in the night as they lean on each other for a glimpse of comfort

or

multiple whumpee’s kept in separarte cells, the screams echo against their walls but they can do nothing to help, each night they’re left alone and in pain, yearning to see their friends again and feel a gentle touch

#whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #whump writing #whump prompt #multiple whumpees #torture #torture whump #whump torture #kidnapped whumpee #kidnap whump #captivity #whump scenario #whumpee #whumper #whump tropes #implied whumper #whump #whump scenes

[whumpdaydreamerx]

A Whumper wanting to have fun torturing the Whumpee, but also not wanting to deal with too much cleanup. So they keep them in the bathroom, making them stand in the tub. Binding Whumpee’s hands to the shower rod.

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #whump scene #whump prompt #whump tropes #whump ideas #torture #torture whump #restrained #bound #tied up #whump visuals #restrained whumpee #whump locations #my writing #whump community

[summertimemusician]

Linktober (Shadow) 2023, Day 11

Monsters (Dead Hand)

Summer Stop Giving Reader/PoV Character and the Chain a Hard Time and Trauma Challenge (impossible) /j. But really I'll probably write something lighter for Linktober or Linktober Shadow later to compensate for this one lol. Probably a sequel to this one that has Reader actually having a nice time with the Links for once.

Technically since unfortunately studying for future exam season in like a couple of days has been kicking me in the ribs and thus my time was highly cut and unfortunately I don't have an Ocarina to give me more, this is actually a mix of prompts! The ones in the title, Keese, Wolfos, Wizzrobe, Lizalfos, Redead, and Boss, although they are not the focus here, mostly just mentioned but technically checking out the boxes, maybe next time I'll go more in deep on that (Like the original idea that basically was Reader taming a pet Wolfos as a guard hound that I will not elaborate on at least not this year), instead y'all get this with the boss that gave a lot of people childhood trauma and was never seeing again since because we really don't talk about just why Dead Hands are terrifying much, just that they are, really missed opportunity to use them more in an LU context lol.

As always any relationship between Reader and any of the Chain can be interpreted as romantic or platonic, and Reader is Gender Neutral on Purpose. And First is here because again, this would have been longer if exam season wasn't kicking me in the ribs and I have some really evil ideas involving First, Reader and Time bonding over having trauma of enclosed spaces, but thankfully y'all don't get that today lol, or not, it would be a really fluffy scene so up to y'all if it's a win or a loss.

TW:

Don't think there's anything too heavy-ish? But I'm a horror fan so I'm not someone who can accurately judge that. I'd say graphic descriptions of violence and gore, and being restrained/pinned in place and the entire deal that is the Dead Hand's existing, so please don't read if you're squeamish or uncomfortable. Health is important and specially mental health and I always leave these warnings on Linktober Shadow related prompts or heavier stories, so just a heads up so no one is caught by surprise.

Anyway, enjoy reading!

It was an almost unanimous agreement that no hero liked to pass through a cemetery in Hyrule.

From the restless Gibdo, to the mischievous yet usually cruel Poes and the lost Ghini, to the ever wandering Stalfos and the ghastly agonized Redead and ever determined ghoulish Garo, nothing good ever came from entering in areas where dead things roam. You can't be sure if it's because of the magic in Hyrule, the living force of light and shadow and the divinity coursing through the land, or simply the will of the undead or the consequences of Demise attempting to claim the Triforce, graveyards and desolated fields meant silence, they should be where those who are gone should finally acquire their final catharsis, not to roam endlessly without release, solemn as these places are they are still places for a peaceful end and to be denied such due to the whims of the Shadow... You can think of very few awful fates that can compare.

('Terrible fates, you could say.' The grimly bemused part of your mind whispers, as you walk alongside Time further down into the crypt that you and the Chain had followed the shadow into, silver, prisitne armor briefly blends with old, rusted, bloody gold and you think you hear the rattling of bones in the distance, the draw of a rusted, but still serviceable sword. You shut it away with a snarl as you cut down the Stalfos attempting to ambush Wild from the rear, and it goes down and back into the darkness with a screech alongside the chilling knowleged and the sick cracking of broken bones, not on your watch, never on your watch, you refuse.)

"Of all places why did it have to be a bloody crypt?" Grimaced Warriors, casting a weary glance towards the skulls decorating the walls, their empty sockets empty but silently cutting, as if sneering at the fact you lot had dared disturb the dead, as if it wasn't the Shadow's mere presence making what would otherwise be a place for rest into a possible death trap.

Legend smirked, though you could tell he wasn't anymore pleased from the way he marched through the cold, cracked stone floor, steps flighty and eyes darting around corners, "What, a bit too much for you, soldier boy?"

"No," came the prim answer, although the twitch of the hand near his scabbard as you stepped into an open chamber gave him away, as well as Wind being kept at his side rather than near the wall, "Just don't generally like fighting the undead in closed spaces. It's a recipe for disaster."

"On that I believe we all can agree on." Came Time's voice, cutting through the banter, tense as a drawn bowstring, you knew being back in a crypt wasn't easy for him, with the way his jaw tensed, you both had the same awful memories of a similarly buried, abandoned place where dead things roamed without cease, frantic, hungry for the warmth of the living, "Keep your guard up, and stay close together."

Almost as if on cue came the monsters from the open corridors, you didn't hesitate in drawing your blade to cut through the enemy, keese were easily dispatched by Four and Legend's swords, you spun to slit the throat of a growling Wolfos from Twilight's era going for Sky's back just as he mercilessly chased down the Black Lizalfos, the beast clearly avoiding the glow from the Sword of Evil's Bane. Time's back to yours as you cleared the path for him and blocked the Shadow's exit through the left corridor, it had already proven that it would not matter if you did or not, but you refused to not let it work for survival.

The jolt of magic being used crawling up your spine was your first warning. Like the build up of lightning in a storm, the taste of rust and a feeling like tar  slithers up your throat.

The second was Wild's warning shout as the chamber shook with the grating, chilling, blood curdling howl of the Redeads, Time lunging away from your side to slash the beasts away from Wind and Warriors with all of the fury of a wolf defending it's pack, before you had to throw yourself back, slamming your back against the arch on the right as it caved in, lest you be crushed alongside the Wolfos coming for your neck the second the older hero moved.

You were separated.

You were alone.

A really, really bad spot to be when in Hyrule's catacombs.

"Are you alright?!", Came muffled from the other side of the stones, the hint of an actual wolf's growl and the distinctive Ordonian cadence, Twilight.

"I'm fine! Keep fighting, I'll find my way to you guys!", You yell back, heart racing, trying not to think about what you could find on your way back, you didn't have any bombs on you, it wasn't feasible to use them in a place as old as this, not without risk bringing down the ceiling on you and the Chain. But most catacombs have interconnected hallways, if you moved quickly, you might just avoid finding anything that you won't be able to handle on your own.

You think Twilight replies, but it's muffled by another Redead's yowl, you wince, your muscles lock up and you feel something warm drip from your ears, but thankfully you are not rendered immobile due to the involuntary wall, you swallow your trepidation and get moving.

The further you get away from the fallen stones, the more silent the catacombs extending from the crypt you were dropped in became, shadows twist oddly by the torches upon the wall with only your breathing and the cold, unfeeling remains of the dead to keep you company, the lowly burning flames bringing you no warmth. The corridors blended together in the darkness cast by the faint light, the shades contorting themselves in the crevices of your paranoia the longer you went on with only your own hurried footsteps to make any true sound.

Not one monster had found it's way to you thus far, though, and according to the copy of the map Legend had made the second you had acquired the original from a very unfortunate Wizzrobe from Wild's era. You just needed to pass one more open chamber to find the corridor leading to your boys, You couldn't keep them waiting, who knew how long it would take for the fight to finish if Redead's were involved? And staying still when the Shadow could turn itself intangible was practically begging it to switch it's attention, it usually didn't pay you as much mind as it did the heroes, Time specially (it seemed to hold a grudge against him more than any of your boys, you noted bitterly), but it would occasionally target you if it meant getting a rise from any of the Link's or if it felt you were too  secure in your safety, it was better if you found your way back first to the hunt before you became hunted.

You grit your teeth, by Hylia's dripping gash, you were so. darn. tired. of. being. hunted.

Of watching your friends being led into a wild hunt with no end in sight, dragged by the noose by a remnant that refused to stay dead, you never thought you could burn with so much anger, with the desire to see if fire would scare it sober into ceasing in it's infection of all of Hyrule's Eras. But unfortunately you knew it didn't work like that, so you had to survive, you would survive, because someone had to protect the heroes when the heroes protected everyone else and if no one was going to step up to the job, you'd just have to do it yourself.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, lest you end up drowning in them, you breath in relief as soon as you come upon the metal door with the symbol of the royal family, faded and rusted with age, there. You just needed to pass through this chamber and the corridor next to it, and you'd be back with Link, all of them, and hopefully out of here. You push it open, grip tightening on your long dagger, almost a sword, good enough to cut and hide. The thick and pungent combination of old, congealed blood, sick and decaying flesh, something like rotten eggs dipped in alcohol and withered flowers hits your nose, making you nauseous but you press on, the chamber is circular and dimly lit, with a long cracked, soft stone from a leak in the walls. You studiously do not look at the far corner of the dungeon or the pillory's and shackles scattered around near the cells,  there's a second door to the other side, as soon as you pass through it you'll be in another corridor.

... It's silent, too quiet. Unease slithers and twists around you like vines, but you can't delay, you won't, so you keep walking-

Until you can't.

Something has grabbed a hold of your leg. You look down, and your blood freezes, spotting a long, sickly, pale arm and a bright crimson, elongated nails, claw-like, digging into your ankle, having dug itself up from the fragile ground.

You don't hesitate, slashing down violently at the offending limb, frantic terror spreads through your blood, you knew what was here. It featured in your nightmares for a long, long time, you knew it still haunted Time's, the limb goes slack as it is severed, and you barely note the way it starts bleeding black and green at the stump, thankful for Four's expert craftsmanship and maintenance hints as you dive to the exit. You don't make it far, it's companion limbs  bursting in front of your path like a snake emerging from the ground, it makes a solid grab for your  arms, one of them grabs you by the scalp, firmly digging as you dodge and weave between, a stabbing pain upon your skull from the indomitable grip of something fueled by fury, twisted magic and rigor mortis and makes you cry out, your slight moment of hesitation allowing two more hands to latch onto your legs and arms, nails slicing through your flesh like easily and digging, tearing like a rabid hunting dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, leaving deep gashes upon your arms and ankles, it's not unlike being pinned and held to a torture rack, in hindsight, ironic given just where in the crypt you ended up.

Your hear the ground below shifting below you, a groan carrying through the air, awfully monstrous, coldly human. You struggle harder like a desperate butterfly upon a dissection board, from your peripheral, you see the form of the thing unhurriedly dragging itself over, it uses the sharp and bloody ends of where bone was broken to slice it's hands off to shuffle out of the grave, using it's stubs as support. Long long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, the scent of rot intensifies and you feel like gagging as it settles it's empty, frigid, hungry eye sockets on your bound form; it's broken jaw contorting itself in a mockery of a human smile over rotten gums and exposed teeth, stretching unnaturally and bringing emphasis to it's rotting, bloodied sunken features. From behind it's bloated, putrid shape, barely obscured by the bloodied white cloth and the grotesque vision of the undead you swear the crimson eyes of the shadow, watching you coldly, the hint of a knife sharp, serpentine smile as the sound of wet meat slamming across the ground rings in the chamber.

Fury mixes with your panic as you snarl, trying to twist the dagger in your grip as best as you can to drive it into the arms, pain and blood drips from the open wound but you don't care; you need to get away from the Dead Hand. A monster like that feels no pain when struck for it is not human, not any longer, and you couldn't hope to face an infected one alone, it shuffles over the floor, unhurriedly shuffling like a predator that knows it's prey can't run away, it moans and groans with hunger as it approaches and you have no intention of giving it a meal, you grit your teeth as the nails sink deeply into your shoulders and arms, using your blade to saw through rotting flesh and hopefully break bone with every single inch of strenght you have, the blade is slick in your hand with your own blood and the poison-tar of the Shadow's infection burning through you but you do not mind, can't. You need to get away-

The undead's teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, blunt, human teeth that shouldn't have half the strenght it does to rip through flesh, blood and crack bone, and you caterwaul with pain, skin crawling and numbing and set aflame with curses sent from the dark reflection of the hero, darkening, veins blackening, your eardrums vibrate with the force of your own agony and you are sure you could rival a Redead on pitch alone of your tortured howl. Struggling even more ferociously, attempting to disloged it, kick it off, your blade sucessfully slashes through the arm from your reverse grip, pushing away from it with the savegery off a cornered predator you sink your long dagger into the undead's eye sockets, tearing through it's cheek with animal ferocity, it keens high and chilling, you're losing blood quickly and it (for it's not a human, not anymore, you can't feel sympathy for it, won't. You can't hesitate.) knows, for it tries to chomp down onto your vulnerable neck, your arm being the only thing keeping it from biting it out as you growl with pain, although you can't be sure it just won't bite through, it's teeth are bared, the pitch of it's blank eyes locked onto yours in stalemate, you have the advantage of not being weakened by hunger and decay, not sluggish like it but that will not help for long, the clammy being determined to bleed you dry and feast on your corpse and you are drowning drowning drowningDROWNINGWITHWRETCHEDTORMENT MAKE.THE.PAIN.STOP-

A scream of your name, sword calloused hands yank you away from claws and fangs (because nothing with blunt teeth and nails should be able to wound someone so throughly), you waver on your feet, swaying, supported by a warm, strong body and pulled away. A sword slashes the foul being away from you and you go lax, numb with pain.

First, First was supporting you. Keeping you steady, stopping you from falling, snarling at the corpse with a lion's fury, holding you protectively. Time tears by him like a man possessed, frenzied with the look of a man looking at his worst nightmare and growling in denial. The Links, wounded but alive, the Chain had met you halfway.

The last thing you remember before losing conciousness as adrenaline leaves your body and everything goes dark, is wishing that they'll burn it to be sure it's gone for good. It's the kindest thing that can be done for a such a wretched existence.

You'd be okay.

#linked universe x reader #technically #lu first x reader #lu time x reader #but mostly only hinted at because things didn't go according to plan #anyway my pitch is that dead hands died of hunger more so than torture which is why they are so darn bitey #and that being an undead being in Hyrule is horror at it's finest actually and in this essay- #Really can't wait till exam season is finally over so I can ACTUALLY dig up those essays lmao #missing scenes include and are not limited to: First comforting Reader after because he knows intimately how unpleasant it is #to be restrained underground alone #and the two fall asleep on each other to reassure the other is still there #and protective Time caring for Reader because having Dead Hand Trauma™ dug up is not fun #On a Scale of Viscerally Hating the Dead Hands from Biggest to Lowest: Time First Twilight Warriors Sky Wild Hyrule Legend Four Wind #I will not elaborate why at this moment #And now I'll take a darn nap lol #summer writes linktober 2023 #summer writes linktober shadow 2023 #summer writes #Feral Reader #Reader gets to be capable as a treat

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

"It hurts,"

Whumpee was trembling, arms lashed above their head and back in shreds.

Almost reverently, Whumper turns to them, gently cupping their cheek.

"I know," the mutter, warm palm soothing over Whumpee's already flushed skin. "And it will continue to hurt until I get what I want."

#whump prompt #implied torture #whump #smol snippet from a scene i cant seem to get the motivation to write

[whump-in-the-closet]

“Get up.”

A boot on their back, their face buried in the concrete. Arms shaking with strain, but they can’t manage to lift themselves up.

The fight is lost and they’ve been kicked to the ground. The taste of blood is in their mouth and it coats their teeth with metal. Their enemy laughs over them, telling them to stand. Pick up their weapon. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

They’re shaking with exhaustion, vision blurry. Escape is nearly theirs. It’s so close— yet so far away. They collapse near the exit, one hand still outstretched. They can’t hear the footsteps, but they can feel the steel-toed boot in their side. “You thought you could leave without saying goodbye?”

A hand in their hair, forcing their head up. A hissed threat of what will happen if they don’t stand.

Brought before a powerful ruler, they’re kicked to the ground. But the ruler waves the guards aside and tells the prisoner to get up. If only there wasn’t a cold smile lining the words.

They’ve been running for so long, their legs are numb. When they collapse, it’s out of sheer exhaustion. Colours explode behind their eyes as they’re hauled to their feet and shoved forward. They can’t stop unless Whumper says so.

In a gladiator ring, the only mercy they can receive is when their weapon is kicked back across the sand after it’s been dropped, their enemy inclining their head ever so slightly. One more round. One more chance. But first. Stand.

They drop to their knees to beg. For mercy. For death. For anything else but this. “Don’t make me hurt them—I can’t!” Whumper backhanding them. “Get off the ground and do as I say! You don’t get a choice.”

#whump prompts #cw implied torture #cw forced to hurt #whump #whump writing #whump prompt #whumpblr #whump community #whump ideas #whump scenes #whump scenario

[fallenwhumpee]

Why

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Guilt, mentioned past torture, blood, betrayal, self-blame.

Right Hand wasn't supposed to feel like this, they scolded to themselves as they walked towards Leader's office. Right Hand wasn't weak, and not helpless.

But they let Leader down once, and Leader was still recovering from... everything. Leader was doing their best to act like nothing happened, but Right Hand could see through their facade.

They wouldn't stand doing nothing again. Not after spending a week at Leader's bedside, waiting for them to wake up. The others were another story, though. The squad often thought Leader was invincible or unbreakable.

And that was what Leader wanted, Right Hand realised long after. To become a pillar even when they weren't there. To guide, to be a voice in Right Hand's head to be better while restraining Right Hand's little self-destructive habits.

Right Hand sighed, wishing that they could do the same for Leader. They weren't good at it, but they could try.

They could try now.

The offices were mostly empty at this late hour, save for a certain insomniac and workaholic commanding officer.

Right Hand knocked the door and opened it without waiting for an answer.

Leader quickly turned their chair, half facing Right Hand and half still glancing at the papers they were dealing with.

"Right Hand?" Leader prompted, their voice hoarse.

"You should be in bed." So blunt, so straightforward. They had never been good with words, so unlike Leader. Their approach was always simple.

Leader chuckled, their laugh turning into a light cough towards the end.

“And leave the planning to you? Or would you prefer the Captain to do it?” Leader smiled.

Right Hand and Captain's strong suit was commanding the field, and coordinating. They weren't good at planning. That was also the main reason for taking so long at rescuing Leader.

Guilt clawed Right Hand's mind, and they looked away. Leader deserved better than what they had done.

Right Hand looked back as they felt a hand cupping their chest. “None of that, I'm just teasing.”

Oh, how much they had missed this. Falling into their usual pattern, Leader reading them like an open book.

The familiarity was comforting and gave Right Hand hope that maybe things could be like before. Before Leader had sacrificed themselves to get the squat out, and before they were forced to find their footing without Leader for months.

Right Hand briefly wondered how their plan was shattered by just one mistake and how the enemy looked so ready as if they knew the plan but focused on the problem at his hand.

“It's past midnight,” Right Hand didn't let go of Leader's cold hand. Cold like death.

“That is my line,” Leader smiled. It only upset Right Hand more.

Yes, Leader would often have to drag them out of the training rooms. Leader smiled, likely thinking the same thing.

Leader stood absurdly, nearly falling. Right Hand caught them as they gasped, their all weight dead on Right Hand's arms.

Right Hand helped them to sit on the table, Leader clinging them like Right Hand was the only thing keeping them up. They leaned their head to Right Hand's shoulder, eyes distant and drained.

“Did you get your medicine today?”

Leader nodded and mumbled a weak yes.

After a long moment of rest, Leader pulled back slightly, calming their breaths.

“Stood too fast,” they murmured, more to convince themselves rather to ease Right Hand's worries. Leader stood again and leaned to Right Hand, barely able to stay straight on their own.

Sometimes it seemed like they were getting worse each day. Their hair, even though it was still clean, was damp. Their eyes were smaller, with big dark circles looking like bruises. They were slightly sweating throughout their pale skin. Their fever rose again, Right Hand thought as they wiped the sweat on Leader's flushed cheeks.

“Maybe we should get some late meal," Right Hand offered. It was accepted without any protests, making the moment strange. Usually, Leader would be the one offering, and Right Hand would deny it until they were both preparing something light for themselves in the empty cantina.

They walked to the mess hall anyway, Right Hand deciding it was too much of a work for that night. And perhaps, they didn't want Leader to be on their feet any more than neccesary, and it was closer to Leader's quarters.

As they entered the mess hall, Leader's grip on Right Hand's arm tightened, but they starightened, slowly gaining their posture. There were not many people, but a few were eating a late meal, probably just back from a patrol, and the cooks were quite busy until they could get a warm meal served.

They had peaceful ten minutes before Captain barged in and locked eyes with Leader, a creepy smile crept onto their lips.

Right Hand understood it too late, and Captain's smile grew as they shouted into the room.

"Leader, since you seem so eager to prove you're still fit to lead, how about a friendly sparring match in the training room?"

"I would prefer a more appropriate time for it," Right Hand growled, protective instincts in them rising. This was a challenge, and the decision for calling one was supposed to be made in one's right mind, not in the middle of the night with everyone tired.

They didn't even start about Leader was still recovering.

"No one asked what you would prefer," Captain snarled back.

"I will give you a second chance to think what you said," Leader pushed them aside, towering over Captain. Perhaps it was less intimidating with the muscle mass Leader lost, but they were still pretty bulky, making Captain look so small.

"I said what I said."

Leader turned to Right Hand with a short, hesitant stop before opening their mouth.

"Call everyone to the training room, please."

Right Hand took the order with a protest they buried under their heavy heart, the people in cafeteria already off to spread the word.

Right Hand hurried through the dim corridors, calling out to the members of their squad to gather in the training room. They knew the confrontation between Leader and Captain was inevitable, but the timing couldn't be worse.

Chief Medic should have tied Leader down or knocked them out until they looked like they weren't dying. They knew it had happened before. It was the only way to keep Leader down.

And it was a cheap play by Captain. To challenge Leader's authority when they were clearly at a disadvantage felt like a betrayal of their shared history. They had faced so many things together, trusted each other with their lives, and now Captain was too eager to undermine all of that.

The training room buzzed as the squad members gathered, some still sleepy but snapping as they saw what was going on.

Right Hand stood at the front, their heart pounding as Leader and Captain faced each other in the centre of the room.

Leader's voice still carried a commanding presence, but Right Hand knew better than assuming Leader was fine. "You think challenging me in this state is a testament to your strength, Captain? It only proves that you're willing to challenge authority only when it's weak."

Captain sneered, circling Leader, their eyes gleaming with arrogance. "Authority that can't defend itself isn't worth following. I'll prove I'm the stronger leader, and those who choose to follow me will know the difference."

Right Hand looked away as they began to circle. Seeing Leader's guard was enough to know their tactic.

Right shoulder exposed, weight resting slightly more towards the right foot. Yes, that would give Leader the strength they needed to use their good - left - arm, but it also left the wide whip wound on their right side open. The fight was going to be violent.

Right Hand scolded themselves. They had to watch this.

With a shaky breath, they eyed the audience made of a hundred professional mercenaries, staff, and guests, only brought together by Leader, for the last time before turning to the fight.

It was strange to know that not all of them came from the same place but sticked together for training or safer missions. People were even brought to take care of them in some ways, just because Leader wanted a systematic and more effective way if dealing with things. None of them could've dreamt of such stuns they pulled in missions alone.

Captain made the first move, lunging at Leader with a swift punch. Leader's countered it with their good arm, exposing their right side again.

But Leader had a plan. Right Hand could see it in the determined glint in their eyes. They baited Captain to believe they had the upper hand. Captain could press their advantage as much as they wanted, but Leader was waiting for something.

Captain continued to press the attack, taking advantage of Leader's exposed right side. The crowd watched in silence, and Right Hand couldn't hide the concern from their face.

Right Hand fought with their emptions— they wanted to stop this fight, to protect Leader, but they knew it would only damage Leader more. Damage Leader's authority, too, a smaller concern.

Captain, getting angrier with each hit not gaining the impact they wanted, started to attack like a mindless beast, showing everyone how unfit they actually are.

Leader suddenly shifted, their injured right side taking another hit. It seemed as though Captain was gaining the upper hand. Right Hand's heart staggered.

But Leader didn't stop. They braced hits after hits, finding rare opportunities to get solid blows to Captain's chest but failing to deliver a powerful one. Captain was not staying at their place, aiming perfectly but not hitting quite.

Leader was turning subtly to soften the impact, pissing Captain off.

Just as Right Hand realised that, Leader caught Captain's arm, and before they could blink, Captain was being launched over Leader's shoulder with a loud thud accompanied by a cracking sound.

The room fell silent as Leader stood over Captain, triumphant.

"Go now, with anyone who wishes to follow you." Leader growled, "I don't want the blood of my own on my hand today. But the next time, there will be only your corpse to be kicked out."

Captain, defeated and humiliated, picked themselves up and looked at the squad as they left left the room, a few following them.

"To your rooms now, if anyone else wants to challenge, they can try me," Right Hand shouted. People left as Leader stood still, the tension in the room seemed to dissolve.

But the calm was short-lived. After everyone left, Leader's gasps for breath became audible, and they faltered, nearly collapsing.

Right Hand rushed to their side, helping them down. They froze at the wince it earned, Leader smiling weakly to the reaction.

"Blood loss may be making me say that, but I actually need to go to infirmary this time," Leader mumbled without changing their expression, chuckling lightly. They both knew Right Hand was seconds away from freaking out.

-•-

Only when they arrived at the infirmary did the full extent of the betrayal become apparent. Chief Medic's departure must have been a calculated move, Right Hand thought, leaving Leader alone once again.

Right Hand's hands shook as they carrief Leader's weakened form. Panic clawed at them, but Leader was quick to guide them with calling Medic, who was supposed to be there in the absence of their CMO.

"Easy." Leader tried to soften Right Hand's nerves. "I've faced worse."

Right Hand's jaw clenched, their fingers curling into fist at their side while Leader kept holding their other hand.

Medic, the less experienced officer came soon, the first thing they did being cutting Leader's blood-soaked shirt and bandages, revealing torn stitches. They worked carefully, their hands shaking slightly as they cleaned the wound. Right Hand watched every move, their guard still up.

Medic finished restitching the wound, Right Hand watching their every move.

"Could I ask something?" Medic's voice came, meek.

"Go on," Leader hissed as Medic cut the first torn stitch.

"What was the first treatment after you got injured? This... doesn't look like it had been treated well from the beginning. Did you observe the initial treatment?"

Right Hand frowned at the question. They had been there for Leader since the rescue, but their knowledge about medical procedures was limited.

"I was with Leader after their rescue, but I'm not a medic. I don't know much about treatments," Right Hand admitted, their worry increasing. "Why? Is something wrong with the way they were treated?"

Medic carefully avoided eye contact with Right Hand and continued, "The stitches, they were sloppily done. It's a miracle they held up during the fight. I would like to talk with who was responsible, though. I dont want to accuse anyone, especially now."

"Chief Medic left with that traitor," Right Hand said sharply to shut Medic up. "Now you can go. You've done enough."

The kid seemed to understand the unspoken message and nodded before quietly leaving the infirmary, leaving Leader and Right Hand alone in the sterile silence.

Right Hand dressed the wound carefully, checking the ingredients of IV before finally collapsing to Leader's bedside.

"They were doing their best, Right Hand. Not everyone will try to take me down," Leader whispered.

"I- I will apologise to them later."

"Good. Just don't scare people like that again. We will hunt for spies later, though. I don't want this to happen again, but I don't think I can handle more action tonight."

Right Hand drew a sharp breath. "I'll do it. But you will rest."

Leader's lips curved into a sad smile. "You've barely slept in last few days."

"I'll be fine," Right Hand's voice was almost a whisper, their eyes refusing to leave Leader's face. "Don't want to be alone now," they admitted.

Leader stayed silent, just squeezing their hand lightly. Perhaps they understood that Right Hand didn't want to leave Leader alone because the mere thought was enough to spiral their thoughts down with worry. And maybe, maybe Leader didn't want to be alone too.

They started to talk about everything and nothing, wishing to distract Leader from the pain until the painkillers kicked in.

Minutes passed, and the effects of the medicine began. Leader's breathing steadied, and a calmness settled over the room. But then, tears welled up in Leader's eyes, their expression pained but not crying.

"I don't understand. Just— just why? Was... was I not enough?"

With a little hesitation, they moved closer, sinking to their knees beside the bed. They reached out, gently running a hand through Leader's hair.

"Neither do I, but this is not your fault."

Leader's fingers trembled as they tried to stop Right Hand's hand. "I should have seen it coming."

That could be translated to I didn't deserve this kindness too easily, Right Hand realised.

Right Hand knew the feeling well, and they had overcame it with Leader repeating the opposite like parrot in the littlest opportunity. Right Hand should've realised Leader felt this way, since it seemed like Leader was just incapable of taking their own advice in every matter.

Right Hand leaned in, their arms wrapping around Leader in a comforting embrace. "You're the strongest person I know, Leader. This isn't about you. It's about them being arrogant and selfish. Not everyone can hold this many people together."

Leader's head rested against Right Hand's shoulder, their silent tears soaking into the fabric of Right Hand's uniform. "It will be alright. This could've turned out a lot different."

"Not very comforting," Leader chuckled weakly.

"It will sound better in the morning," they returned. "Now sleep. I'll stay here."

#whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #guilt #mentioned past torture #tw blood #betrayal #tw self-blame #im not very proud of this but i think the action scene is well #though not really accurate #anyway sorry for the inactivity #will happen again i guess