Borg's stories

Borg▪️20▪️she/her I write things sometimes

[bookishb0rgid]

Writing Masterlist

For Immediate Release

Kade’s life had been upended by what was supposed to be a simple clinical trial. Now, after enduring the cold detachment of doctors and fleeing a government facility that used him to expedite important interrogations, Kade has decided to risk recapture for a shot at true freedom.

Matthew knew the boy he saved from the snow had experienced more than even the typical run away but he never expected him to be a victim of NewGenetics— the most popular controversy in bioethics. Even so, he wasn't going to leave Kade stranded without as much as a coat to protect him.

When Kade laid out his plan, all Matthew had to do was contact an old friend of his and find the camera buried in his garage. Kade didn't have it so easy. He'd have to tell the world what he went through— and hope his captors wouldn't find him as he worked to change the system that had made his imprisonment possible.

Burned

A hero, assumed to be dead, is found when their teammates infiltrate a villain's party and has to be left behind.

Whumptober 2025

[denversmanydeaths]

This is my first ever Whumptober, so I'm not going to do a full 31 days of prompts. I'm just going to do a couple of oneshots.

TW: Whipping

“You pick, Whumpee,” Whumper said as he placed the whip in front of Whumpee and Caretaker. Whumpee immediately knew what he'd pick–himself. He couldn't bear the thought of Caretaker being beaten by Whumper. At least Whumpee had experienced it before. He knew what to expect.

“I… I'll do it…” Whumpee mumbled, walking over to the post and waiting for Whumper to tie his hands. When he did, Whumper moved to Caretaker. Why? Whumpee thought, but he couldn't come up with an explanation for why Whumper hadn't begun yet.

“You,” Whumper said, slowly placing the whip in Caretakers hands, “will get to deliver the… punishment.”

“No!” Caretaker immediately said, thrusting the whip back at Whumper. “No, I won't. Whumpee. I won't.” But Whumper wouldn't listen, only moving to stand on the other side of the room, watching the conflict in Caretaker's eyes. “Whumpee.”

“Just do it…” he whispered through clenched teeth, gripping the post and willing himself to keep his composure for now because he knew it would be gone in a few seconds.

“But, Whumpee–” Caretaker protested, trying to get Whumpee to switch places.

“Do it, Caretaker. I'll be fine.” He bit his lip before he could say the words I can handle it. Could he? He had before, but this was Caretaker. Not Whumper. He wasn't sure if he could handle it. “Just… do it.”

Caretaker blew out a breath and stared at Whumpee's back for a long time before Whumper took a step, and Caretaker took that as a bad sign and lifted the whip, swinging it through the air in the direction of Whumpee before Whumper came closer to him. He'd rather control what he, himself, did to Whumpee than have Whumper in complete control. It was stupid, though. Whumper was in complete control anyway.

Whumpee stiffened against the post as the whip hit his back. Caretaker's aim wasn't the best, but he didn't miss. Whumpee's jaw clenched so tightly that he was positive that he wouldn't be able to open his mouth again. He had curled his head inward, forehead resting against the pole as he closed his eyes tightly. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

“Count.”

Whumpee had heard that before, and it made his stomach twist as nausea rose to his mouth. “One,” he forced out shakily, unable to hide the tremble in his voice.

Caretaker watched Whumpee, seeing the way his shoulders had curled in. The way he shook. “Whumpee–” But Whumper only held up a hand, signaling for him to keep quiet. Whumper nodded, and Caretaker reluctantly brought the whip down again, the loud noise of it echoing throughout the room.

Whumpee's back arched, head thrown back as the pain seared through his body. White. Hot. Agony. He inhaled a scream, a high-pitched whine coming from his lips as his vision blurred. He was sure that he was going to throw up, but he opened his mouth to speak anyway. “T-two.”

Whumper looked pleased. This would break the two of them, he could tell. Caretaker was shaking and cursing. Whumpee's legs were threatening to give out beneath him more and more after each lash. It's one thing to be hurt by an enemy. It's another to be hurt by a friend.

The perfect torture.

[bookishb0rgid]

Whumptober Day 7: Pushed Beyond the Breaking Point

When I wrote Burned a character says something similar to ‘you’ll be lucky if they kill you, they might torture you and use your healing powers against you’. 

Content: torture, blood, detailed injury, character with healing powers that are painful is forced to heal themself repeatedly after unnecessary injury

Cyrus fights against the restraints, squirming against the metal table and wincing as a hearty laugh echoes throughout the room. “The Organization will find me,” he asserts, giving away his fear by the frightened gasps he can’t get under control.

“How exactly do your powers work anyway?” Asks the villain, looming over him.

“I– did you not hear me? The Organization will find me, you should let me go while you still have the chance to.”

“I’ll take my chances.” 

Cyrus’s eyes widen as he catches the light gleaming off of a dagger. “W-wait, please don’t—” he groans as the tip of the knife sinks into the side of his chest, “no, no—” he whines, taking a stuttering breath as the knife is removed from his side, discarded onto a steel plate.

“Heal yourself.”

Cyrus tugs at the restraints pinning his wrists, “I can’t. Look, please, I—”

“What a pitiful thing to lie about,” the villain comments. “We know what your powers are.”

“I need my hands,” Cyrus gasps. “I have to touch an injury with my hands.”

The villain chuckles. “You can't be serious.”

The cold restraints release, replaced by a warm hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, and his hand is brought down to the bleeding wound. “Go on.”

Cyrus winces, taking a stuttering breath before willing the wound to heal, warmth explodes from his hand as searing hot pain rips into his side. He takes a ragged gasp, his hand being pulled away.

“Hurts both ways, huh?” The villain prods the skin where the wound had once been, ignoring Cyrus’s desperate whimpers.

“W-wait—” Cyrus gasps as the villain grips the blood-stained dagger.

The villain ignores him, continuing on his painfilled quest with both curiosity and determination. Cyrus’s hands begin to ache as layers of blood cake onto his palms. The blood on his chest, crackles and tugs at his skin with each breath. Later, he’s forced to seal small pins under his skin that jab at his sensitive flesh with every slight movement. The villain exhausts Cyrus, forcing Cyrus to use his powers to ensure his unending pain.

Finally, as the villain presses Cyrus’s bloody fingers against the newest of wounds, Cyrus groans weakly, “No.” He’s done, he’s been pushed beyond the breaking point. All that will ever await him is more pain. He has to stop.

The pressure is immediately increased in response. Cyrus squeaks in pain, his pale face scrunching together.

“Suit yourself,” his hand is returned to the cold restraint above his head and the villain picks back up the blade.

Cyrus blinks, trembling greatly as the villain presses the blade against Cyrus’s skin once more. “If you’re so keen on dying—” Cyrus head swims, screeching at the pain that engulfs him until his body gives out and he’s swallowed in darkness.

Cyrus comes to in a seated position, arms wrapped around his upper chest, “Cyrus, please– please, just wake up.”

He weakly pulls away from the warm grasp of whoever is holding him. “N-no,” he can hardly make out his own voice.

“Oh, Cyrus. It’s me.”

His vision blurs, as he struggles to recall the source of the familiar voice. Perhaps it’s only a facsimile of a friend he once had known, but a name slowly comes to mind, “Celine.”

“Yes, good– good,” she says. All of his weight is pressed against her, he can hardly hold himself up. Is this real? His head feels like it’s full of air, this could be a hallucination, forcing him toward self-preservation. She takes a slow breath, “Cy’, this wound is bad.”

“No, pl–se, don’t—”

“I know it hurts, my love, but I need you to heal this wound. I can’t get it to stop bleeding.”

Cyrus sobs. He can’t do it anymore. He won’t do it anymore. His whole body aches with the soreness and exhaustion of the constant abuse. Healing it will only make it worse, will only prolong his suffering.

She guides his hand to the wound. “No,” he shrieks as his fingers brush over the torn skin.

“Cyrus, please,” Celine begs, a sob etched into her voice. “If I could do it, I would. I know it hurts and I’m sorry, but please I– I can’t let you die.”

Cyrus twists in her arms, pressing his face into her shoulder, choking on a sob. He’s certain it’s her, and through the fear and the pain he strengthens his resolve and finds the strength he needs to press his hands against the wound.

He screams in pain as his skin knits together beneath his fingertips, pushing his head into the crook of her neck, back arching as if he’s connected to a live wire.

When it’s over, he collapses into her arms, taking thin breath as his body trembles uncontrollably. Celine’s voice is distant and hazy, but he’s sure he’s being moved off of the table as he sways to the side. It’ll be okay now, he thinks. He’s going home.

[fineiguessimintowhump]

i think the best part of recovery whump is when whumpee doesnt quite get whats happening? that period when whumpee either hasnt been told or just doesnt understand whats going on. when they think the rules are weird (there arent any), the assumption that caretaker is their new [whatever], straight up speculating rules into existence.

[bookishb0rgid]

so real but especially when they're so determined to follow the rules this time. Caretaker's like "there aren't any rules" and it just makes Whumpee so frustrated because there has to be rules and they really want to prove to their new Whumper that they can be good (and the crashout that follows whenever they fail the rules they've made up).

[pvtashby]

Mockingly kind (babying) Whumper dialogue:

“Awwww, I know it hurts.”//"Owhh, does it hurt?"//"Did that little ouchie hurt?"

“You poor baby…”

"Oh, no... Are we crying now?"

"Aww... I thought you were stronger than that!"

"Such a brave little thing, trying to be tough."

"Ooooh, don't you look miserable."

"Aww... You scared?"

“Oh, what’s wrong, huh? Did it hurt your feewings?”

“Ohhhh, someone’s whimpering!”

[bookishb0rgid]

Whumptober Day 4: “Don’t be scared, I’ve done this before” | Loss of Powers

Content: blood, blood loss, great injury

“Don’t be scared,” Hero says urgently, hands shaking as they lift up Sidekick’s blood-soaked shirt, “I’ve done this before.”

Sidekick whimpers, their hand weekly catching Hero’s wrist. “It’s okay,” Hero shushes them, placing their hand against the feverishly warm skin covered with viscous blood. “We’re going to fix this—I’m going to fix this. It’s going to hurt, though. It always does.”

“It already hurts.” Sidekick’s voice is small and weak, worrying Hero as they check to make sure there’s nothing in the wound.

“I know it does. I’m sorry.” They should’ve intervened— they didn’t think it would have gone this badly.

Hero pushes away their guilt, focusing their abilities toward the wound. Sidekick squirms on the ground as Hero presses their hands against the skin around it, willing it to heal.

Nothing happens.

Hero gasps as blood seeps stubbornly through their fingers. It should be better now, there shouldn’t still be blood oozing out.

“Is it healed?” Sidekick asks, pushing themselves up. 

Hero immediately pushes them back onto the ground, with a little more force than they had intended. “No– no, it’s not. It should be, I don’t understand why–”

Hero seethes, Villain did this. “We need to get back to the base, we’ll get you patched up, you’ll be fine.”

“Just heal me,” Sidekick sobs. “Please, it hurts.”

“I can’t, I tried. We need to— we need to hurry.”

Hero helps Sidekick onto their feet, hoping they’ll make it back in time.

This was supposed to be an easy mission.

[sleepy-lump-of-moss]

Cw: Water torture, brief mention of vomit

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“Aww don’t look so horrified, Whumpee will only be hurt as much as you allow them to,” Whumper said with an eerie smile.

They were firmly grasping the back of Whumpee’s hair, leaning the front of their body just inches away from a small tub of water. Whumpee was on their knees, wearing both a blindfold and noice canceling headphones with their arms tied behind their back.

Caretaker and the rest of Whumpee’s team were surrounded by Whumper’s henchmen, each one sporting a gun aimed at the group. They had watched, eyes wide, as Whumper had brought out their missing friend and shoved them down before the tub.

“So, here’s how this is gonna go,” Whumper started, their eyes focused on the group. “You all are going to give me the information I need, or…” With a sudden jerk, Whumper shoved Whumpee’s head down into the tub.

The team gasped in shock as Whumpee thrashed about, Whumper never loosening their grip. After a few moments, they pulled Whumpee back out, but kept their face only about a few inches from the water’s surface. Whumpee sputtered and coughed, the sudden movement clearly taking them by surprise.

“Now, as you all can tell,” Whumper continued, “Whumpee cannot see nor hear right now. In fact, they aren’t even aware that any of you are watching this. Makes things easier for me, that way there’s no communication between them and all of you. Plus,” they added smugly, “It’s more fun when they’re unable to tell when they’ll go under next.”

“You’re sick!” Caretaker yelled suddenly, “Absolutely sick!”

Whumper eyed Caretaker and, without hesitation, shoved Whumpee’s head down. Once again Whumpee started thrashing, only this time Whumper left them under just a little bit longer than previously. When they came up, Whumpee gasped, coughing even harder as water dripped down their face.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” Whumper warned, “the more compliant you all are, the better things will be for your precious little Whumpee.”

Caretaker quickly closed their mouth, their eyes never leaving Whumpee.

“Now, first question, where is the object hidden?” Whumper asked.

“We don’t know,” said Caretaker steadily, “we don’t have it.”

Whumper frowned and shoved Whumpee’s head down.

“You know, you’d think after two demonstrations you’d all be a little more compliant,” Whumper said, Whumpee’s head still under. After a concerning amount of time, they lifted Whumpee’s head only to nearly immediately throw it back down.

“No, stop!” Caretaker shouted.

Scowling, Whumper yelled, “you know if this keeps up I can always just kill Whumpee and then torture the information out of all of you instead!”

Whumpee’s head was finally brought back up. They coughed once, twice, then vomited water all over the tub in front of them.

“Please,” Whumpee gasped, “please stop, I can’t brea-”Whumpee’s pleas were cut off by Whumper dunking them yet again. This time however, their body only thrashed for a few moments before going oddly still.

“Whumpee!” Caretaker screamed, lunging forward. The nearest henchman dug the barrel of their gun into Caretaker’s side. Eyes wild, Caretaker shouted, “Stop! I’ll tell you everything, just stop!”

“Good choice,” Whumper remarked, bringing Whumpee back up. Whumpee’s jaw was slack, Whumper’s grasp being the only thing holding up their body.

“Better hurry though, I don’t think your little Whumpee has much time.”

[bookishb0rgid]

Whumptober Day 3: Isolation | Candlelight | Found Family

This one is related to my ongoing series For Immediate Release. Go read it if you haven’t already : )

CW: Referenced history of nonconsensual medical treatment (including non-con drugging), panic attack, referenced dehumanization and abandonment

Matthew’s eyes fly open in response to a loud crash that seems to shake the house itself. He sits up in bed, immediately aware of the rain’s ferocity in falling. He recalls the weather report expecting rain at one in the morning, they hadn’t warned of such an intense storm, but this is likely the worst part and will pass soon.

He reaches out toward his lamp, tapping the glass shade, then taps it again, harder. “Power’s out,” he grumbles, grasping for his phone to use as a flashlight.

With his phone’s light ahead of him he walks to the living room, pulling out two candles and a lighter from a drawer.

He doesn’t necessarily understand the importance of lighting candles for a power outage when it’s late enough to be sleeping, but his grandmother had always done it. It was nice to have that light on the occasion he’d wake up before morning and it will be satisfying for him to now do it for Kade.

Matthew lights the first candle, a gingerbread scented one he’d received for Christmas a few years ago, and takes it to Kade’s room.

He freezes, tightly gripping the door handle as he finds Kade kneeling on the floor, gasping for breath.

“Kade,” Matthew sets the candle on the dresser, kneeling in front of Kade. “Hey,” he gently grasps the side of Kade’s arm, keeping his grip light as Kade recoils in fear. 

“No—” Kade whines, gasping. “St–” the word starts out strong but he just whispers the repetition, “stop.”

“It’s just me,” Matthew says, “Matthew.” He pulls his hand away, but Kade reaches out, gripping Matthew’s arm.

“No, please don’t—” he takes a long, shaky breath, a sob etched into his voice. “Not again.”

“Okay, you’re alright,” Matthew says, taking Kade’s tight grip as permission to touch him again. “You’re okay.”

Kade collapses into deep sobs, pulling Matthew closer to him.

They embrace each other, Kade shaking and sobbing between each heaving breath.

Matthew carefully affirms Kade of his safety, keeping his voice level. Taking a relaxed breath as Kade’s sobs die down, dissolving into sniffling.

“It’s really dark.” Kade mumbles.

“I know,” Matthew says. “The power went out.”

“Hold on.” Matthew pulls away, hesitating as Kade whimpers, but continues, taking the candle from the top of the dresser, bringing it in front of Kade. “Does this help?”

Kade reaches out, taking it from Matthew.

Matthew studies Kade’s face in the flickering, dim light. His breathing slows as he stares into the flame, and he wipes his face with the inside of his shirt.

“Would you like to help me light some more candles?”

Kade looks up at Matthew, offering a small nod.

“Okay,” Matthew helps Kade onto his feet, keeping close to him as they walk to the living room.

Matthew lights the first one, the one he’d left on the bureau, then holds the candle lighter up to show Kade how to use it. 

Kade copies him, grinning as he lights the wick. Matthew passes another, a baby blue candle in a glass jar.

“Where did you get all these candles,” Kade asks, voice quiet.

“My grandmother collected them,” Matthew answers, adjusting the wick of a green colored candle. “I swear, she’d find a new one every month.”

Kade lights another candle and Matthew sets it to the side. “Only a few of them are scented, so hopefully it doesn’t start smelling like a perfume store in here. Most of the time, she bought them for whatever novelty they brought. They can make different colored wax and sometimes make certain designs. I don’t even want to mention all the votive candles I keep in that bottom drawer, there’s probably one for every saint that’s ever lived.”

The comment gains a laugh from Kade, and Matthew softly smiles, passing another candle.

“They um–” Kade softly states, the lighter in his hand flickering to life, “they’d just leave me in the dark.” He takes a shaky breath, lighting the wick of a cream colored candle. “And sometimes— because of the things they did— I wouldn’t be able to sleep or I’d be in so much pain. Just lying there, unable to move.”

Matthew nods, giving his full attention to Kade, who takes a long, drawn out sigh. “You’re here now,” Matthew reminds Kade, “you’re not alone anymore.”

Kade hums in acknowledgement, looking toward the cream colored carpet below.

“Thanks,” Kade whispers.

“For what?” Matthew says, hating that Kade feels that he needs to thank him for doing the bare minimum.

“For um— for treating me like a person.”

[bookishb0rgid]

Whumptober Day 2: Prophecy

Content: Prophesied Death, mentions of parental neglect, themes of isolation

“Let’s look at the wording again, ‘death’ could mean so many different things.”

“Like what?” The prince drawls, still reclining against the large oak.

“Death can be a metaphor,” she says. “Poets use it all the time to symbolize great change, not just…well, death.”

“And what will my drastic change be?” The prince asks, clearly unimpressed.

“I think you’d be less cynical.” She says pointedly.

“You’d be cynical if you were in my shoes.” He says, looking out toward the horizon. “We should get moving though, this isn’t a great place to be after dark.”

“Right,” she says, readying the horses for travel. “I just— there has to be something we can do.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so concerned now,” the prince comments as he pushes himself off of the ground, dusting the dirt off of his clothes.

She freezes, hands hovering over the saddle strap. “You’re my friend. I don’t want to have to watch you die.”

“That’s not what you said a few months ago.”

She fumbles with the leather, recalling how she had sworn she wouldn’t get attached to him, that she was only here to help him get to the cursed place. She lets out a heavy sigh as the knot is secured, looking at the ground as she says, “I didn’t know you then.”

The prince stiffens, setting his jaw as the bitterness of the statement forces him to bite his tongue. Who knew him? Certainly not his parents, who’d left their servants to raise him. Not his siblings, who only looked upon him with pitying looks. And sure, they’ve been on the road for a few months, but did his traveling companion really know him?

What is there to know about him, anyhow? That he’s been being prepared as a lamb for slaughter, to fulfill a prophecy to rid the land of evil? This land that will celebrate his death for ages, but fail to ever acknowledge his life.

“So, then, I didn’t matter,” he says, climbing onto his horse before he may receive a response.

“That’s not what I said— I just—everyone else seemed fine with it.”

“Of course,” the prince says, taking a careful breath. “Makes perfect sense.”

The rest of their travel is in silence, the cold of the evening settling on their hearts.

[bookishb0rgid]

Whumptober 2025 Masterlist

Day 1: Begging for Forgiveness

Day 2: Prophecy

Day 3: Isolation | Candlelight | Found Family (For Immediate Release)

Day 4: "Don't be scared, I've done this before" | Loss of Powers

Day 5:

Day 6:

Day 7: Pushed Beyond the Breaking Point

[bookishb0rgid]

Whumptober Day 1: Begging for Forgiveness

Content: aftermath of whump

Whumpee winces as the large barn doors open, light pouring into the dark, landing on him like a spotlight. Whumper’s back to gloat.

A tiny whimper escapes Whumpee’s throat. He deserves whatever Whumper plans for him, he was too weak to protect his friends. He broke their trust; he chose his comfort over their safety. 

Are they dead now?

“Whumpee!”

Whumpee squints at the figures. Whumper brought them here?

Will Whumper kill them all now, saving Whumpee for last? Surely, he’ll make it into some big show.

This is all his fault.

Whumpee looks at the ground with great shame, his eyes closed as tears threaten to spill. 

He doesn’t deserve to cry, either.

“Whumpee, it’s me.”

Whumpee jerks backward, head smacking against the wall with a dull thud. It’s not Whumper. “No,” he groans, a splintering headache emerging.

“It’s over.” Leader says calmly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry—” They wouldn’t kill him, would they? He’s never seen anyone on the team execute even the worst of the villains they’ve faced— though, he’s far worse than any villain.

“Whumpee— Whumpee, please just—”

Warm hands free him from the cold bite of the metal restraints, gently grasping his hands.

Whumpee’s voice grows with panic, “I didn’t mean— I just— please, please don’t hurt me. Please. I know what I did. I know. I know and I’m sorry. I’m begging you—”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Leader affirms. “It’s okay.”

“Whumper told us everything, no one blames you for this.” Another voice chimes in. Friend?

Whumpee shakes their head, choking on a sob. “You’re lying—you have to hate me. You should hate me.”

“Oh, Whumpee,” Leader says, pulling him away from the restraints that forced him to withstand this hell. “We could never hate you.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Whumpee concedes, sobbing into Leader’s chest. “It started out so small, and when the stakes rose—” he chokes on a sob. “I couldn’t take it– I just– I couldn’t do it. I’m the worst choice for this team, I couldn’t handle the pressure, I just— I’m sorry.”

Whumpee gives into the warm hug, sobbing into Leader’s scratchy jacket. “It doesn’t matter anymore, it’s over. You’re safe.”

He sinks into Leader’s chest, his body going limp in their arms. Soon, they’ll guide him out and Whumpee will take their first full breath in weeks.

[bookishb0rgid]

Exposed

Content: fear of recapture, references to a political assassination attempt (minor character), mentions of difficulty with eating, some themes of isolation, references to past abuse (specifically involuntary medical treatment including experimentation), implications of government conspiracy, emotional distress

The part where Matthew locks in

Kade glances at the TV. The headline, Senator Thomas Reddik in critical condition after assassination attempt in Galois, EG, scrolls across a blue banner as a newsperson describes the event. This channel has been the focus of most of the household television use of the past three days. It has been weird to see his name on the screen and a recent picture of his face as a focal point of discussion. The last time he saw a picture himself on the news, he was much younger and he didn’t have the scars he has now.

It’s been harder now that focus has shifted away. He’d prefer a hundred news articles demonizing him, newsanchors suggesting that his experience is some work of fiction, prominent figures calling him some fugitive of justice, compared to the reality: nothing. It’s like the video was still sitting in an unopened email, that the last few days had been some sort of hallucination or dream. Though, he can’t really let himself belief that, not when there is so much at stake.

He’s left this channel on the tv all day, at a low volume, hoping to at least hear something about NewGenetics, as he works on a puzzle Matt had bought just a week ago.

The last few hours have been about this senator and the young person who’d shot him.

He could tell you all about the event, every moment of the breaking news story; the newspeople have repetitively recapped the events every few minutes.

“Senator Thomas Reddik was shot earlier today during his campaign speech in his hometown…” Kade mumbles beneath his breath as newsanchor, Elaine Barnes, repeats the spiel he’s heard over and over again.

He swiftly grabs the remote as he catches the sound of a car door closing, turning off the tv as he moves to peer through the blinds.

In the driveway, Matthew carries an abundant load of groceries. Kade lets the wooden slat of the blinds fall back into place, sighing. It’s not as much of a panicked reaction as it used to be— though he really should be more vigilant about it now— but it’s become more of a compulsive habit. Though, he does begin to breathe easier knowing that Matthew is back. Maybe his overwhelming trust in Matthew is dangerous, though it’s clear Matthew has no intention to ever hurt Kade.

He pushes the thought away, instead settling on the soft rug in the living room, to at least pretend to still be working on the puzzle when Matthew walks in.

He does spot a piece he thinks might fit, but forgets its placement as the front door creaks open and house keys jingle.

“How’s it going?” Matthew keeps an uplifting tone around Kade, but Kade knows he must be tired—he usually is after work. Though the groceries must be a source of exhaustion for Matthew.

“Fine,” Kade says, leaning away from the coffee table. “Can I help?”

“Uh–”

“-putting them away.” Kade clarifies, seeing the look of confusion written on Matthews face. “Not–” he awkwardly pauses, “the car.”

“Right,” Matthew says, “yeah. Yeah, of course you can help— if you want to— I mean—” he takes a slow breath, instead offering a nod.

Kade stands up, “How was work?”

“It was alright,” Matthew says in that high pitched tone that tends to mean he’s being more polite than honest. “I had some interesting interactions today.”

“Yeah?” They move to the kitchen.

“There was this lady that came in around one,” Matthew elaborates as he places the bags onto the small counter. “She was… kind of intense,” he gives a short laugh. “She apparently was convinced I was twelve or something because she was very adamant that I was not old enough to work in the store.”

“What’d you do?” Kade asks, pulling a few cups of yogurt out of the bags.

“The manager had to get involved, I wound up in the back room until she left.” He sighs, his shoulders slumping forward for only a moment as he leans against the counter. His posture then straightens as he turns to Kade, “So what have you been up to today?”

“I did part of that puzzle you got,” Kade offers. 

“How's the news watching going?”

“There’s some senator that got shot,” Kade shifts a box of minute rice in his hands, listening to the grains skate across the sides of the box.

“I, um, thought you might like to try some other cereals.” Matthew says, holding a box in his hands. “I know it’s—” he clears his throat, looking to the side for a moment, “It has dried blueberries in it.”

Kade bites his lip, nodding. “Sounds good.” He likes the cereal he usually has, even if it is just raisins and corn flakes, but clearly Matthew is concerned— as usual— with Kade’s limited access to the outside world.

It’s not spoken of, but Matthew clearly worries about Kade’s autonomy. He’s offered to try to disguise Kade in order to get outside— Kade’s not interested, it’s too dangerous. He’s offered to let Kade buy things online— there’s too many things and it’s far too overwhelming. It’s clear Matthew worries about restricting Kade’s choices— about being another captor— but he should know it’s not him that has made all of these restrictions necessary. It’s NewGenetics that have made it that every new food makes Kade gag, why he can’t go outside without fear of being forced to go back, and why he had to make that video that had not even made it through three whole days of the news cycle.

Three days— the reality slams into Kade. He had risked his life, his safety, his ability to even stay with Matthew for a video that had died in the news cycle after three simple days. 72 hours.

“How are you doing?” Matthew’s voice cuts through the frustration of the thoughts, leaving Kade to decide whether or not to share them.

“I’m doing…” Kade sighs, “okay. They’re not reporting on the video anymore.”

“Yeah,” Matthew says. “Are you…” he purses his lips in thought, “upset about it?”

Kade shrugs, he doesn’t want to get emotional right now, Matthew’s clearly dealt with enough today. Though, as Matthew looks at him, head cocked like a curious puppy, he allows himself to admit, “This just wasn’t anything that I was prepared for.”

Matthew nods, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. “This was not something I– or Savannah– could’ve anticipated either. I’m sorry, Kade.”

“I just don’t understand.” Kade’s voice becomes incredibly small as he looks down at the linoleum floor, pushing back tears and breathing through the pressure that begins to build in his chest. “I thought they would care.” He speaks slowly and deliberately, carefully choosing each word. “I thought if people knew—I thought something would change.” His voice cracks and he takes a shaky breath. The tears are back and he can’t push them away this time. “And I did all of this for what?” He’s done it now, he can’t take the words back. He knows Matthew’s watching him, silently awaiting Kade’s next words.“They’re going to find me now.” He snaps his head up, looking at the blurred shape of Matthew, “I don’t want to go back. I can’t– I don’t–” his breaths become shorter and Matthew embraces him as he begins to hyperventilate.

“Okay, you’re here. You’re safe. I’m right here, you’re not going anywhere, they can’t find you— I promise. They can’t hurt you,” Matthew rubs circles in Kade’s back as Kade leans into him gasping, crying, and shaking— the cloth of the shirt between Matthew’s shoulder and Kade’s chin already wet with tears. 

“I’m so scared,” Kade blurts out at once, bursting into sobs.

“I know you are,” Matthew says, keeping his voice level. “And you’ve been so brave.”

“I wish I wasn’t, I could’ve— I shouldn’t have done anything. I just wanna stay here— I just–” Kade coughs,  pulling out of Matthew’s embrace as he momentarily chokes on the onslaught of emotion.

“Okay,” Matthew says, helping Kade sit on the floor, “you’re okay.”

“And those people hate me and they’re calling me a liar and I just—” Kade curses violently into another fit of coughing. 

Matthew leaves Kade’s side, standing up as Kade continues to choke on his sobs, finally getting his breath under enough control to ask, “What— what are you doing?”

Matthew grabs a cup from the cupboard, “I’m getting you some water— sorry, I should have announced what I was doing.”

“It–” Kade hiccups, “s’okay.”

The glass is passed to Kade as Matthew takes a seat across from him on the linoleum floor.

Kade shakily pressed the glass against his lips, gulping down water between heaving breaths. 

Matthew takes the empty glass from him and Kade offers a weak smile as thanks. The tears are no longer coming, but they uncomfortably stick to his face as he sniffles, his nose still running.

“I’m cold,” Kade mumbles, a chill rushing over his body. His face feels the coldest, and he attempts to wipe off what he can with the back of his arm as Matthew collects a blanket from the living room, setting it over Kade’s chest and wrapping it around his shoulders.

Kade continues to sniffle, wiping his face on the blanket, as Matthew says, “I know that a lot is going on right now— that a lot has already happened.” Matthew sighs, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, sadness written on his face. “But right now, you are here and as far as I’m concerned, you can stay here for as long as you’d like. Things like this take time and honestly, you’ve had a much stronger start than any of us could have expected. You suggested that you don’t feel that people care— I think it’s more likely that people do care. Every news site in the world has negative influences, and the fact that something so startling, so evil was brought to light so quickly shows that people care and the way it disappeared overnight is more likely to be proof of malice. Not that there’s some secret group controlling things in some secret base somewhere— this isn’t Gotham.” Kade scoffs, a smile forcing its way onto his face. “But NewGenetics did just receive a government contract, as much as that news has boosted your story, it does unfortunately make sense that no one wants this coming into the light right now.”

Kade holds the blanket tightly, reveling in its warmth, “Are you— should I—” he shakes his head, stopping himself.

Matthew’s phone rings, he shuffles, pulling it out of his pocket. “I’m going to let that go to voicemail. It’s not— this is more important. What were you saying?”

“I don’t remember.”

Matthew’s phone rings again. “You should take it,” Kade says, “I’m fine.”

“I–um— okay.”

And Matthew leaves Kade sitting on the linoleum floor, the blanket wrapped around him becoming cold from the lingering tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi! I'm thinking about starting a tag list so please let me know if you'd like to be added :)

[bookishb0rgid]

Exposed

Content: fear of recapture, references to a political assassination attempt (minor character), mentions of difficulty with eating, some themes of isolation, references to past abuse (specifically involuntary medical treatment including experimentation), implications of government conspiracy, emotional distress

The part where Matthew locks in

Kade glances at the TV. The headline, Senator Thomas Reddik in critical condition after assassination attempt in Galois, EG, scrolls across a blue banner as a newsperson describes the event. This channel has been the focus of most of the household television use of the past three days. It has been weird to see his name on the screen and a recent picture of his face as a focal point of discussion. The last time he saw a picture himself on the news, he was much younger and he didn’t have the scars he has now.

It’s been harder now that focus has shifted away. He’d prefer a hundred news articles demonizing him, newsanchors suggesting that his experience is some work of fiction, prominent figures calling him some fugitive of justice, compared to the reality: nothing. It’s like the video was still sitting in an unopened email, that the last few days had been some sort of hallucination or dream. Though, he can’t really let himself belief that, not when there is so much at stake.

He’s left this channel on the tv all day, at a low volume, hoping to at least hear something about NewGenetics, as he works on a puzzle Matt had bought just a week ago.

The last few hours have been about this senator and the young person who’d shot him.

He could tell you all about the event, every moment of the breaking news story; the newspeople have repetitively recapped the events every few minutes.

“Senator Thomas Reddik was shot earlier today during his campaign speech in his hometown…” Kade mumbles beneath his breath as newsanchor, Elaine Barnes, repeats the spiel he’s heard over and over again.

He swiftly grabs the remote as he catches the sound of a car door closing, turning off the tv as he moves to peer through the blinds.

In the driveway, Matthew carries an abundant load of groceries. Kade lets the wooden slat of the blinds fall back into place, sighing. It’s not as much of a panicked reaction as it used to be— though he really should be more vigilant about it now— but it’s become more of a compulsive habit. Though, he does begin to breathe easier knowing that Matthew is back. Maybe his overwhelming trust in Matthew is dangerous, though it’s clear Matthew has no intention to ever hurt Kade.

He pushes the thought away, instead settling on the soft rug in the living room, to at least pretend to still be working on the puzzle when Matthew walks in.

He does spot a piece he thinks might fit, but forgets its placement as the front door creaks open and house keys jingle.

“How’s it going?” Matthew keeps an uplifting tone around Kade, but Kade knows he must be tired—he usually is after work. Though the groceries must be a source of exhaustion for Matthew.

“Fine,” Kade says, leaning away from the coffee table. “Can I help?”

“Uh–”

“-putting them away.” Kade clarifies, seeing the look of confusion written on Matthews face. “Not–” he awkwardly pauses, “the car.”

“Right,” Matthew says, “yeah. Yeah, of course you can help— if you want to— I mean—” he takes a slow breath, instead offering a nod.

Kade stands up, “How was work?”

“It was alright,” Matthew says in that high pitched tone that tends to mean he’s being more polite than honest. “I had some interesting interactions today.”

“Yeah?” They move to the kitchen.

“There was this lady that came in around one,” Matthew elaborates as he places the bags onto the small counter. “She was… kind of intense,” he gives a short laugh. “She apparently was convinced I was twelve or something because she was very adamant that I was not old enough to work in the store.”

“What’d you do?” Kade asks, pulling a few cups of yogurt out of the bags.

“The manager had to get involved, I wound up in the back room until she left.” He sighs, his shoulders slumping forward for only a moment as he leans against the counter. His posture then straightens as he turns to Kade, “So what have you been up to today?”

“I did part of that puzzle you got,” Kade offers. 

“How's the news watching going?”

“There’s some senator that got shot,” Kade shifts a box of minute rice in his hands, listening to the grains skate across the sides of the box.

“I, um, thought you might like to try some other cereals.” Matthew says, holding a box in his hands. “I know it’s—” he clears his throat, looking to the side for a moment, “It has dried blueberries in it.”

Kade bites his lip, nodding. “Sounds good.” He likes the cereal he usually has, even if it is just raisins and corn flakes, but clearly Matthew is concerned— as usual— with Kade’s limited access to the outside world.

It’s not spoken of, but Matthew clearly worries about Kade’s autonomy. He’s offered to try to disguise Kade in order to get outside— Kade’s not interested, it’s too dangerous. He’s offered to let Kade buy things online— there’s too many things and it’s far too overwhelming. It’s clear Matthew worries about restricting Kade’s choices— about being another captor— but he should know it’s not him that has made all of these restrictions necessary. It’s NewGenetics that have made it that every new food makes Kade gag, why he can’t go outside without fear of being forced to go back, and why he had to make that video that had not even made it through three whole days of the news cycle.

Three days— the reality slams into Kade. He had risked his life, his safety, his ability to even stay with Matthew for a video that had died in the news cycle after three simple days. 72 hours.

“How are you doing?” Matthew’s voice cuts through the frustration of the thoughts, leaving Kade to decide whether or not to share them.

“I’m doing…” Kade sighs, “okay. They’re not reporting on the video anymore.”

“Yeah,” Matthew says. “Are you…” he purses his lips in thought, “upset about it?”

Kade shrugs, he doesn’t want to get emotional right now, Matthew’s clearly dealt with enough today. Though, as Matthew looks at him, head cocked like a curious puppy, he allows himself to admit, “This just wasn’t anything that I was prepared for.”

Matthew nods, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. “This was not something I– or Savannah– could’ve anticipated either. I’m sorry, Kade.”

“I just don’t understand.” Kade’s voice becomes incredibly small as he looks down at the linoleum floor, pushing back tears and breathing through the pressure that begins to build in his chest. “I thought they would care.” He speaks slowly and deliberately, carefully choosing each word. “I thought if people knew—I thought something would change.” His voice cracks and he takes a shaky breath. The tears are back and he can’t push them away this time. “And I did all of this for what?” He’s done it now, he can’t take the words back. He knows Matthew’s watching him, silently awaiting Kade’s next words.“They’re going to find me now.” He snaps his head up, looking at the blurred shape of Matthew, “I don’t want to go back. I can’t– I don’t–” his breaths become shorter and Matthew embraces him as he begins to hyperventilate.

“Okay, you’re here. You’re safe. I’m right here, you’re not going anywhere, they can’t find you— I promise. They can’t hurt you,” Matthew rubs circles in Kade’s back as Kade leans into him gasping, crying, and shaking— the cloth of the shirt between Matthew’s shoulder and Kade’s chin already wet with tears. 

“I’m so scared,” Kade blurts out at once, bursting into sobs.

“I know you are,” Matthew says, keeping his voice level. “And you’ve been so brave.”

“I wish I wasn’t, I could’ve— I shouldn’t have done anything. I just wanna stay here— I just–” Kade coughs,  pulling out of Matthew’s embrace as he momentarily chokes on the onslaught of emotion.

“Okay,” Matthew says, helping Kade sit on the floor, “you’re okay.”

“And those people hate me and they’re calling me a liar and I just—” Kade curses violently into another fit of coughing. 

Matthew leaves Kade’s side, standing up as Kade continues to choke on his sobs, finally getting his breath under enough control to ask, “What— what are you doing?”

Matthew grabs a cup from the cupboard, “I’m getting you some water— sorry, I should have announced what I was doing.”

“It–” Kade hiccups, “s’okay.”

The glass is passed to Kade as Matthew takes a seat across from him on the linoleum floor.

Kade shakily pressed the glass against his lips, gulping down water between heaving breaths. 

Matthew takes the empty glass from him and Kade offers a weak smile as thanks. The tears are no longer coming, but they uncomfortably stick to his face as he sniffles, his nose still running.

“I’m cold,” Kade mumbles, a chill rushing over his body. His face feels the coldest, and he attempts to wipe off what he can with the back of his arm as Matthew collects a blanket from the living room, setting it over Kade’s chest and wrapping it around his shoulders.

Kade continues to sniffle, wiping his face on the blanket, as Matthew says, “I know that a lot is going on right now— that a lot has already happened.” Matthew sighs, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, sadness written on his face. “But right now, you are here and as far as I’m concerned, you can stay here for as long as you’d like. Things like this take time and honestly, you’ve had a much stronger start than any of us could have expected. You suggested that you don’t feel that people care— I think it’s more likely that people do care. Every news site in the world has negative influences, and the fact that something so startling, so evil was brought to light so quickly shows that people care and the way it disappeared overnight is more likely to be proof of malice. Not that there’s some secret group controlling things in some secret base somewhere— this isn’t Gotham.” Kade scoffs, a smile forcing its way onto his face. “But NewGenetics did just receive a government contract, as much as that news has boosted your story, it does unfortunately make sense that no one wants this coming into the light right now.”

Kade holds the blanket tightly, reveling in its warmth, “Are you— should I—” he shakes his head, stopping himself.

Matthew’s phone rings, he shuffles, pulling it out of his pocket. “I’m going to let that go to voicemail. It’s not— this is more important. What were you saying?”

“I don’t remember.”

Matthew’s phone rings again. “You should take it,” Kade says, “I’m fine.”

“I–um— okay.”

And Matthew leaves Kade sitting on the linoleum floor, the blanket wrapped around him becoming cold from the lingering tears.

Prev << For Immediate Release >> Next

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi! I'm thinking about starting a tag list so please let me know if you'd like to be added :)

[bookishb0rgid]

Jordan steps echo against the walls of the tunnel, mingling with the sounds of dripping water and cars racing by on the nearby road.

“You’re early.” The face of Florence Mire is illuminated by a flickering light as he leans against a sleek, black car, smirking.

“I make it a habit to be punctual.” Jordan says, voice level despite the fear churning in his stomach.

“I assume you came unarmed.”

Jordan stretches his arms out, “Come and find out.”

“No,” Florence says, not bothering to move from his post. “You rid yourself of any weapons you have before I search you.”

“You want me to handle a weapon within your vicinity?”

“You know better than to try to hurt me.”

Jordan purses his lips, immediately disarming himself of the gun in his thigh holster, setting it on the ground. 

“What was the point of bringing all this, anyway?” Florence asks, mildly entertained.

“I didn’t want to be late,” Jordan admits, pulling out a dagger that was sheathed at his ankle.

Finally, Jordan stretches out his arms, wordlessly inviting the infamous Florence Mire to come closer.

“You know,” Florence says, “if you forgot something, it’d be a terrible start to this… deal of ours. How would I be able to expect you to uphold it if you lied right at the beginning.”

His weapons are gone, and yet, Jordan wonders if he missed one. “Can I–” he takes a weighty breath, his fear suddenly far too palpable, “check one more time.”

“Of course.”

Jordan slides hands over his arms, essentially giving himself a pat-down, before finally stretching out his arms once more. “I’m not armed, you can check.”

Finally, Florence advances, first checking from the front and then–

He steps behind Jordan, immediately pinning his wrist’s behind his back, sickening clicks tightening the metal cuffs to an uncomfortable extent.

“I trust you, dear.” He says as his head lingers over Jordan’s shoulder.

“I told you I’d come willingly,” Jordan says, trembling with fear.

“I know,” Florence says, “and you’ve done such a good job so far, but this is for my enjoyment.”

A moment later a blindfold is fastened around Jordan’s head and darkness floods his vision.

[paingoes]

conditioned whumpee being forced to hold a stress position and they don’t move or struggle because they are too well-trained but they are crying

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

A lucky charm whumpee.

They bring luck to others, just by standing there. Of course it doesn't work on them. They might even be less lucky than most.

Do they feel it, every time someone drains them by scratching a lottery ticket next to them ? And, of course, winning ? The drain, the exhaustion? Maybe it's even painful? Do they have the slightest control on the amount of luck they give away, or are they like a tap others can turn on and off ?

How ? Maybe whumpee is nonhuman, and it's just one of their characteristics. Then you can put them on a leash and drag them everywhere with you. Luck guaranteed.

Or maybe it's a world with powered individuals. And this is whumpee's power. Which everyone abuse. They have a lot of friends, but none care about whumpee. They just care about his power, no matter how painful it is. Maybe both heroes and villains want to use them.

Or maybe it's due to an experiment. Lab rat whumpee created just to bring luck to others, a living artifact.

Just a silly idea.

[bookishb0rgid]

Just for Show

Cw: Torture (stress positions, sensory deprivation), dehumanization, assumed dead whumpee

Celine gasps as the tension of the chains pulling at her wrists releases, sending her forward into the arms of her captor. She allows herself to fall into him, his arms wrapping around her to keep her upright. She should pull away, wiggle out of his grasp, try to support herself on her own, but she can’t and there’s no point in pretending otherwise, not when she’s this tired.

His grasp tightens as she’s lifted off of her knees, the dull, constant pain now sharp and throbbing as her legs straighten out.

She’s released as she’s set into a chair, her hands swinging freely at her side, grazing the chair legs. 

The audio suppressors crackle as hands settle over them and she winces at the noise. She knows it’s not really as loud as it sounds, but outside of her heartbeat it’s the only sound she’s heard for hours.

And there will be plenty more soon. She grimaces as the audio suppressors are pulled away, suddenly aware of the whimpers that escape her with every spasm in her leg. Hands sweep away the hair that had stuck to the front of her face with sweat, finally removing the blindfold. As the knot comes undone, every shift of the fabric is a terrible, grating noise. Her throat lets a sob loose, only worsening the pain that wraps around her entire being, like an itch deep within her chest unable to be relieved.

She keeps her eyes pinched shut, not prepared for the assault of light, as a glass is pressed against her lips.

“Water.” He promised to tell her when it wasn’t, not that she’d have a choice in drinking it either way.

She gulps it down hungrily, leaning forward in desperation as it’s pulled away from her, empty. 

“More,” she gasps.

Flare gives a pleased hum as she bows her head with sudden shame. She didn’t used to be like this. She was strong. She had held her head high through all of this for such a terrible length of time.

She never expected it to go on this long. To go on until she was begging for a second glass of water, sobbing in front of her captor, dropping to her knees on command, or learning party tricks for a party she hadn’t ever seen or heard.

He tilts her chin back up, “Open your eyes.” She does as she’s told. He moves his finger through her range of vision, testing to make sure ‘no real damage has been done.’ He’s told her so many times how this was all a means to an end, to show heroes a fate worse than death, to have a show of power from a villain unaffiliated with The League.

“Your friends were here tonight,” he says, returning to his full height. “There was that Shifter hero– I think some call him the Chameleon– he was here as The Blade.” He scoffs, muttering, “Such a ridiculous name.”

Celine widely watches him with anticipation. “What did you do to them?”

“Nothing, they didn’t make a scene, and it looks like they were after something to use against The League, anyway. Why would I want to stop that?”

Celine studies his face. Surely, something– a scene– should’ve happened when they saw her. Did they see her? She currently sits in a large, open area of Flare’s manor, but perhaps they were somewhere else. It’s not like she could know how this party works. “You’re too precious to have to hear what those villains are saying about you,” she’d been told just before those horrid things were pressed over her ears. 

“It was odd though,” he says. “He looked surprised, like I haven’t been sending your little hero organization photo after photo of your sorry state.”

Celine looks down, her mind drifting to Cyrus. Had he seen the photos Flare had taken? Had the organization used him to verify that the photos were of her? The thought alone makes her stomach turn.

He makes a dramatically big yawn, “Gosh, hosting sure is exhausting.” He stretches his arms out wide with a groan. “I think I will be heading to bed now.”

She bites back an acidic comment as he exits into the unseen halls of the manor. His henchmen’s tight grips fail to even elicit a flinch as she’s pulled out of the chair, and her feet drag behind her as she’s taken to her cell.

They leave her on the cushioned mattress in the corner, and she waits until they leave to allow herself to fall to her side, grasping the thin blanket she’d been allowed.

Letting them parade her around like this is humiliating, but she knows better than to resist. She has fought back before and suffered the consequences. This is better, when everything that happens to her is just for show.