#war whump

[defire]

Ripping the arrow out of their own flesh, arrowhead and all, to string it onto their bow and fire it at the enemy as blood gushes down their arm.

[writersisland]

“What are you doing? We can still win!”

“At what cost? Look around! How many more must die before you are satisfied? How many more children won’t return to their parents, left behind in unmarked graves?”

“But… We have to…”

“We have to do what is right. We’re not avenging anyone by leading our people into their death for our personal vendetta.”

[bloodiedbriars]

Field Medic Whump

As the war progressed, the soldiers being sent into battle got younger and younger. There was no time to prepare them fully, and many never even came close to finishing their training.

This included the medics, who spent their days at the frontlines performing procedures they never learned on people who could not be put under an.

After the war, many veterans were left permanently disfigured or died even after receiving treatment in the field. In the following years, medics were the group with the highest suicide rate, by a lot.

[kninewarrior-whump]

Blood of the Yōkai follows Gorou, a military general, thrust into a mission that changes his life permanently. Through self-doubt and tested relationships, Gorou struggles to learn to live again as a rescued Prisoner of War.

Gorou is entwined in a legacy he was created to fulfill. When everything he believed is turned upside down in a violent fury, Gorou is faced with a choice:

To follow his heart, or to sacrifice everything in the name of the people he loves most.

✨PLEASE NOTE: some parts of the story are written intentionally omitting names; let your imagination run wild!

You do NOT need to know any canon Genshin knowledge to follow along with Blood of the Yōkai.

A poished version of the story will be posted to AO3 using only proper nouns, stay tuned. ✨

✨ this story is 18+ ! There is themes of noncon, NSFW, Major injury and queer issues and questioning. Please mind the tags on posts. ✨

The main cast of the story as written are below! While they are fandom characters, I have a lot of fun pushing canon to create something new.✨

Taglist: jumpywhumpywriter

✨Whumpee✨

Gorou is the advantageous General of Watatsumi Island, serving under Sangonomiya Kokomi. He is a young inugami, whose ancestors served the serpent god Orobashi and the Sangonomiya Clan in the creation of Watatsumi Island. Gorou takes this history and his role in its continuation very seriously, working eagerly alongside Kokomi. He believes his place in the military is symbolic of his ancestors’ role to Orobashi; by serving Kokomi, he himself mirrors that bond.

Though small in stature, he is well regarded; widely known and respected by many. He has a tendency to never quit, largely attributing to victory on the battlefield… though sometimes this lands him in tough situations.

Caretaker

Arataki Itto is an oni hailing from Inazuma. He is typically regarded as a menace, his boisterous way of life getting him into sticky situations and outcasted from the Inazuman city folk. Itto is an orphan who largely raised himself, oni being drastically looked down upon in the city. Despite his tumultuous upbringing, Itto is a free spirit who’s optimistic to a fault, heroic and has a heart of pure gold.

During the war, Itto assisted the Watatsumi Resistance against the Shogun, earning him much respect with Gorou and Kokomi. Gorou petitioned for Itto to move to Watatsumi, believing that a yokai’s race should not predetermine their status in society.

-Wip-

Leader

-Wip-

PART ONE

Prologue

Caretaker Loses Whumpee (1)

Caretaker Loses Whumpee (2)

Spilled Blood

Captured, Day One

Preparing for Rescue

Interrogation

Force Fed

A Spark of Hope

Infected

Presumed

Get Out While You Can (1)

Get Out While You Can(2)

Hollow State

Distress Call

Like a Kaleidoscope

Doomed by the Narrative

White Flag

Ripped the Rug from Under You

Under Pressure

Seeing Red

Improvised Solutions

It Was Always Burning

Don’t Leave Me

Not a Good Place to Be

Caught in the Crossfire

We’re Not Safe Yet

Cruel Irony

The Only Way Out is Through

Lost ⭐️

PART TWO

Imposing Nightmare

Take a Walk

Off This Boat

Breaking News

Rattle

Splitting Headache

Empty Letters

You Got Me

Selfish

Token of Your Trust

A Tool to be Used

What I Am to You

We Will See it Through

Weaponized

Wisteria

A Means to an End

Vulnerable Again

Branded

Damage Done

One Last Chance With You

Unwell

PART THREE

Arrival to the Mainland

Meet Again

Not How I Wanted You to Find Out

Don’t Pretend to Understand

Old Friends

Planning pg.1-3

Whumper Reveal

The Missing Link pt.1

The Missing Link pt.2

Barely Alive and Hardly Dead

Once and For All

Give Me a Sign

You No Longer Own Me

PART FOUR

•No Other Option

[chaotic-orphan]

A crumb of vendetta, I beg of you governa!

- a sick victorian child.

Vendetta (XII)

Read part one // Masterpost // Continued from here

While most people got the imprisonment part down for what Supervillain did to the Heroes, this part is dedicated to @sunflower1000 to coming the closest to what he actually has in store for them…

To the sick Victorian child, I hope you're still alive considering you asked this ages ago... but here, an offering

*~*~*~*~*

Supervillain leaned down and grabbed Hero under the arms and yanked them into a startled standing. Hero stifled a gasp at the suddenness. The room blurred before their eyes; their brain pulsed painfully against their skull until the world refocused. Before they knew it, they were back in their wheelchair and being wheeled back through the arches into the hallway that led them here.

Their room was to the right, but Supervillain wheeled them to the left from the dining room this time. Hero would be lying if they said they weren’t nervous about where exactly Supervillain was taking them. Was he tired of Hero’s antics already? There was something not right about how Supervillain looked when he spoke of the heroes that remembered. Something Hero needed to know; why did he look so cruel and smug when he told them?

And now? This was an impulsive move on Supervillain’s part, and impulsive people were harder to predict than organised ones… but what did Supervillain expect? That Hero would wake up and just accept the fact that they were to be Supervillain’s counterbalance in a room full of his fanatics?!

The hall led to a ballroom of sorts, or at least that’s where Supervillain turned Hero’s wheelchair into. There was a balcony that lined the upper walls, but Hero’s eyes went further up to the ceiling that displayed a beautiful arched ceiling carved out of white stone like bone and a grand chandelier of crystal teardrops.

“Where are we?” Hero asked, unable to keep the awe from their voice.

Supervillain hummed above them. “Impressed?”

“Yes,” Hero said honestly.

“Then where we are doesn’t matter, little Hero, does it?”

Hero swallowed the biting retort they wanted to throw at Supervillain. He didn’t trust Hero, which was smart, but annoying. Hero couldn’t fight back from this fucking chair. They could barely stand without support… but then again— Supervillain wouldn’t have been able to literally change the world if he only thought about the immediate future. He played the long game, and even if he could trust this pathetic version of Hero, once they got their strength back, they would go right back to being a legitimate threat. Especially if he was stupid enough to give Hero back their swords.

Supervillain wheeled them through the ballroom out into an atrium. Hero dragged themselves from their thoughts at the doors to the outside. Supervillain just wheeled them to it, but that’s not what drew Hero’s gaze.

It was the blonde zombified girl standing at attention beside the wall. She was dressed in all black. Her hair tied back into a ponytail, hands behind her back, like a solider awaiting their orders.

Somehow, this was worse than seeing Medic used as a servant. Teleport’s face and clothes lacked any colour. She wasn’t bouncing from foot to foot, filled with limitless energy she just… stood there. Still as the grave. Hero felt the soup curdle in their stomach at the sight.

“Teleport,” Supervillain said, and Teleport looked at him. She didn’t spare so much of a glance at Hero. Hero wanted to speak. To scream. To say— to fucking say SOMETHING! But their jaw locked and all they could do was stare, mutely horrified. “We need your services.”

Teleport glanced at Villain, then at Hero in the chair and Hero leaned forward, eyes wide. Please, they pleaded silently. Recognise me. Please.

“The cripple coming too?” The words had barely left her mouth before her head whipped to the side, a slap echoing through the atrium. Hero flinched at the sound, stunned. Villain was in front of her, moving quicker than lightning across the sky.

“You will address your betters with an appropriate tone, Teleport,” he said coldly, and Hero knew the bastard was smiling his cold smile. “Or I’ll have you put in the dungeons for another lesson.”

Teleport’s blue eyes widened, a protest on her lips but she didn’t get to say it before Hero lunged out of their chair towards Villain. They crashed into the back of Villain’s knees, and they went down, Hero climbing on top of the bastard as he turned beneath them.

“You fucking bastard!” They hissed, drawing back a fist, feral. “Don’t fucking touch her!”

Hands grabbed Hero and yanked them easily off of Villain who smirked up at Hero as they were wrestled back into their chair. This time when Supervillain had Hero sitting in the infernal chair, he produced a pair of power dampeners. Hero froze for a beat.

“No! No, no, Supervillain—” they said but their words fell on deaf ears. Twin shadowed hands grabbed Hero’s wrists and yanked them to each armrest. Supervillain cuffed Hero’s wrists to the arms of the chair while Hero cursed and raged and kicked out at the bastard. “You fucking cowards! You’re scared of me like this, just fucking wait until—”

Hero shut themselves up. The words died on their tongue as they saw Villain with a knife against Teleport’s throat. Once Hero was secured Supervillain straightened and fixed his jumper before a blur of movement and Hero gasped as flames of pain erupted on their cheekbone. They saw stars as they slumped, completely caught off guard at the violence. Of all people they never expected Supervillain to lose his temper so quickly.

Hero didn’t right themselves in the chair. They stared, glared at the spot to their left, where their head had snapped after the almost knock-out punch. Supervillain grabbed Hero’s chin and yanked their head towards him, looking into his glacier gaze that froze Hero to their chair with fear. The taste of blood metallic on their tongue.

“Are you going to fucking behave?” Hero swallowed at Supervillain’s barely-contained-rage filled question. They glanced at Teleport who didn’t look at them and nodded once, slightly, as much as they could. Supervillain smiled.

“Good.” He said, and his frosty rage melted, replaced with a smile, with saviour Supervillain, the charming man. Hero swallowed the lump in their throat when Supervillain walked around their chair again. “Now, Teleport. If you would, please. Put us in the box, I don’t want Hero to do something stupid again so soon.”

“Yes sir,” Teleport said softly. She grabbed hold of Hero and Supervillain, while Villain held onto her shoulder. Hero opened their mouth to protest that three is too many when the world morphed and folded around them. Oxygen compacted into tight space as Hero felt the world contort and pulled around them. Nausea climbed Hero’s throat as they tried to breathe in the liminal space before the world stopped attacking their senses and they could breathe again.

Hero folded in on themselves, the cuffs clinking against the metal of the wheelchair and they sucked in a few deep breaths trying to steady themselves. They didn’t open their eyes or straighten until they were sure they wouldn’t throw up again.

“Are you okay, Hero?” Supervillain asked. Hero hummed in reply, swallowing hard before they finally sat up straight in their chair again. “It takes some getting used to.”

I know, Hero wanted to snap. Teleport is my friend, of course I know that. But they kept quiet. They didn’t want to anger Supervillain anymore than they already have, afraid of the consequences. Not for them, but what Supervillain or Villain might do to Teleport to make Hero behave.

Once the anger receded, Hero finally took in where they were. It looked like they were in some kind of stadium. Hero could barely see anything from their wheelchair, but it looked like an arena with tiered seating like a football stadium or concert venue, except the stage must be in the middle.

Ahead of them a wall of glass exposed the spectacle to whatever entertainment happened here, and Hero jerked forwards. The only response was the rattle of their chains. Supervillain let out a soft laugh.

“Oh, sorry. I forget you’re sitting,” he said coming around Hero’s chair and wheeling them towards the wall of glass. “Here. A better view.”

The glass box was a little more than a quarter of the way up the giant stadium that looked more like an amphitheatre or… Hero swallowed when their eyes fixed on the arena of sand in the middle of the stadium. Their heart stuttered in their chest as all breath left their lungs and Hero shook their head.

“Do you not like?” Supervillain purred as a door behind them opened but Hero didn’t pay it any mind as they fought against their soup coming back up again.

“What is this?” Hero whispered, horror coating every breath. Hero couldn’t take their eyes from the centre of the arena. It looked like a mockery of the guild sparring pit that Hero grew up in, spent their youth training in day after day. They pulled at the cuffs as they leaned forward, staring down at the arena. “What is this?”

“I could tell you, Hero,” Supervillain cooed. “Though I’m sure you already have a good guess. But I think it’s far more entertaining to show you.”

Hero swallowed the lump in their throat as they stared and stared and stared. Hero couldn’t stop the flashes from the war, fighting in the dirt and the mud so like the sandy pit below, the smell of blood and piss singeing their nostrils and sweat, they swore they were back there now as a siren sounded and two heavy portcullis gates lifted on opposite sides of the arena.

Hero could see everything from the box they were in, even the faces of the two people who emerged onto the sands of the pit. The portcullis dropped as they stepped out far enough. Hero’s heart jumped into their chest as they recognised hero Trainee’s sister, Ishka, a water wielder. She had the same golden skin as her brother, her hard, dark eyes framed by her silky dark hair as she glared up at the box Hero was watching from. There was no lightness to her usual happy features. Hero knew Ishka. She was kind, cheerful. Now she looked like nothing more than a cold hearted weapon.

Her dark eyes widened in surprise at seeing Hero, mirroring Hero’s as they stared down at her. Ishka’s eyes glanced at Hero then Supervillain and then at the cuffs around Hero’s wrists they tugged on as they leaned forwards in their chair. Hero swallowed as they realised Ishka had a pair of power dampeners around her wrists too, but with no chain in between.

“They can’t use their powers?” Hero demanded, hands balling into fists.

“No. They can’t. All thanks to you, really.”

Hero’s head whipped to Supervillain. “What?”

Supervillain grinned down at them. “While you were… asleep, I had my best scientists and craftsmen experiment with your power.”

Hero flinched. “What?”

“I needed my gladiators to be able to fight, Hero,” Supervillain said as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “But I couldn’t have them wielding their powers against me or any of the audience so I set my best minds to work and work they did.”

“Gladiators,” Hero repeated, barely audible. They really were going to be sick. Tears brimmed Hero’s eyes as they turned their attention back to Ishka and AnotherHero, Hero didn’t recognise. Wait… no. Wait, Hero knew most heroes—

“He’s not a hero,” Hero said, gesturing at the other person in the arena with Ishka. He was built like a giant, big and burly and thrice the size of Ishka’s lean frame.

“No,” Supervillain said with something like pride. “He isn’t. There were a couple of… little rebellions while you slept. Some people don’t take as well to their memories being adjusted.” Supervillain smiled wryly. “Who knew. So I squashed the petty squabbles and then offered their leaders a deal. Die for their uprising, or live as a gladiator.”

Hero’s body was like ice in the chair. They wouldn’t be able to move their limbs if they wanted to, but… this? This was too much to comprehend. Too horrifying.

Supervillain imprisoned the rest of the heroes and anybody else who dared question him and made them fight each other… for sport?!

“You’re a monster,” Hero hissed.

Supervillain laughed coldly. “It seems a fighting punishment, no? To those who fought a war against me, who killed my people, people who followed my orders… well, their punishment will be to fight to the death.”

A rush of cold dread struck Hero like a lightning bolt ricocheting through their entire body. “To the death?”

“Only on some occasions,” Supervillain said, his eyes glinting with a cruel malice as he drank in Hero’s horror. Hero recognised this vicious Supervillain, the monster behind his well crafted mask. The man that had Superhero killed and dragged Hero back up the podium to face the spectacle of gathered villains. The sadistic beast that lingered deep under his skin, but was always there.

“Besides,” Supervillain said, his hand lifting palm facing Ishka and the other gladiator. “This is only practice.”

He closed his fingers into a fist and both gladiators bowed towards the box before turning to face each other. Hero watched, their heart in their throat as Ishka sprung at her opponent with lethal grace and speed.

Her opponent to his credit didn’t fall for her feint and instead planted his feet and spun on his heel to bring his broadsword up against her daggers, her typical weapon of choice, though… they weren’t her usual ones. The ones she showed Hero once, perfectly balanced for her short stature and skinnier frame.

“You said you wanted an end to this violence,” Hero ground out through gritted teeth. They pulled sharply on their cuffs. “This is barbaric! Controlled violence?! For entertainment, do you see yourself as some fucking roman senator?”

Supervillain shot Hero his charming smile. “Why? You planning on stabbing me in the back?”

“I’m no coward.” Hero spat, yanking on their cuffs again just to do something. Not a coward, but powerless? At Supervillain’s mercy? Their stomach rolled as they watched Ishka spar like her life depended on it.

“This is the cost of losing a war,” Supervillain said, coming around to kneel slightly in front of Hero’s chair. Hero’s glare snapped to Supervillain’s glacier eyes. “Don’t worry, Hero. You’re safe from this fate.”

“And you call that mercy?”

“Yes.” Hero swallowed at the honesty colouring Supervillain’s voice. “I know you won’t see it that way, Hero. Not now, maybe not ever, but in time you’ll respect the cushion of safety you have by my side.”

Hero’s eyes widened in horror. “I would give my life to save all of theirs,” Hero spat, venom injected into every word. Supervillain smiled like a proud father speaking to a child.

“I know. Which is what makes you all the more compelling, Hero. You and I,” he continued, his eyes glittering with something that terrified Hero, “will change the world. Make it better than it was before.”

Hero pulled against the chains of their cuffs. “Better on your terms!” Hero hissed. “You have changed everyone’s memories to follow along with your stupid narrative of Superhero being the bad guy!”

“The victors write the history books,” Supervillain said softly. He dipped his head, his smile extending on one side of his face. “I mean, if you won, I would be in prison right now. As would all my people who fought with me.”

“Humanely treated!” Hero cried. “Not forced to- to fight for your lives through blood sports!”

Supervillain hummed and stood, cupping his hands behind his back as he stared down into the arena.

“A punishment must fit a crime, Hero.”

“Punish me in their stead!” Hero cried. An oppressive weight pushed down on Hero’s shoulder, on their skull, on their chest and it felt like they couldn’t breathe. “Please! I worked under Superhero! I was his second in command! I made the plans that killed so many of your friends. I was there in the war room. Punish me! Not them!”

Superhero didn’t speak for a moment. A single moment that managed to weave that terrible spark of hope in Hero’s chest.

“They chose their side, Hero. Now they must face the consequences.” He glanced at Hero over his shoulder. “As must you. Besides you wouldn’t last two seconds in the arena in your state, and the people love the spectacle of it all.”

“You’re a monster.”

“As are you,” Supervillain replied easily, pinning Hero to their chair. “We’ve both done monstrous things to survive. Don’t act like we are different.”

“We are different!”

“Not in the ways that matter,” Supervillain replied. He glanced to the right of Hero as the doors opened and closed again behind Hero. His eyes brightened and his smile warmed. “Ah, Hero, you are in luck. Meet the overseer of the Arena of Heroes.”

Hero didn’t want to turn their head and greet another of Supervillain’s sycophant, but they didn’t have a choice as Supervillain turned their wheelchair to face the door.

“I didn’t expect you to be here today, sir,” a strong voice answered that pulled at Hero’s heartstrings. “It is only a training day. There are no games tonight.”

“Don’t worry. We just came for a visit. I would like to introduce a guest of mine that will be joining my office,” Supervillain said. Hero couldn’t hear anything over the booming of their heart, deafening all sound, all love and peace evaporated. They couldn’t turn their head. They couldn’t… it would… it would shatter them.

But their brain had to… they had to see and register that he wasn’t dead. That he was still alive.

Hero turned and their breath caught in their throat.

“Vigilante.”

It was him. It was him. He was… he was alive. Beside him stood Villain who smirked at Hero over Vigilante’s shoulder. Hero wanted to slap that smugness from his stupid face, but they couldn’t take their gaze from Vigilante.

He looked good. He didn’t… he didn’t look zombified like Teleport or mistreated like Medic. He looked- Hero’s eyes raked over the uniform that Vigilante wore. Their stomach turned.

Oh god… he looked like one of them.

He smiled warmly at Hero. His voice soft as he said, “hi Hero. Good to see you’re awake.”

If Hero were a house of bricks, they would all be crashing down around them right now. Vigilante knew Hero? He recognised them? Supervillain didn’t introduce them, did he? No. He didn’t, which means… Vigilante— did Vigilante— was Vigilante?

Hero yanked at the cuffs keeping them bound to the chair. They couldn’t help the tears welling behind their eyes as they looked at Vigilante, their Vigilante, healthy and well. Not in the gladiator ring. Not bloodied or wearing power dampeners.

“You… you recognise me?” Hero asked in a breathy whisper. Vigilante’s golden gaze went from Hero’s face to Supervillain’s and back again, an awkward smile on his face.

“Yes,” Vigilante said with a small laugh. Hero’s breathing hitched. Did he… was he?…

No.

No!

Hero couldn’t entertain the possibility that Vigilante was always on Supervillain’s side. They couldn’t. They knew Vigilante; knew him in their soul. This wasn’t Hero’s Vigilante standing before them. The one who told Hero he’d always find them, that he loved them.

His golden eyes went to the cuffs on Hero’s wrists, and he frowned. Something Supervillain clocked too. “When Hero awoke, they were a little… violent,” he explained. “This is for their safety.”

“Yeah,” Villain scoffed, “and mine.”

Vigilante’s eyes lit up with his smile and Hero swore that everyone in the room could hear their heart break.

“What did you do to him?” Hero cried, yanking their wrists against the cuffs. “Vidge, it’s me, please! Please tell me you remember me. Please! Please!”

Vigilante’s eyes widened slightly. “I– I don’t think we’ve ever properly met before, Hero,” Vigilante said. Hero couldn’t restrain the whimper that broke up from their chest. “I… I mean,” Vigilante continued quickly, “I know you were in a coma for a while and that sometimes long-term coma patients wake with new memories and–”

Hero couldn’t take it. They yanked at their wrists harder as hot tears poured down their cheeks, shaking their head as they said no, over and over again as Vigilante continued. Hero ignored him and turned to Supervillain. “Kill me… just kill me, just- just-” Hero yanked harder on the cuffs until they drew blood. “JUST KILL ME! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING…” their voice cracked at the end as they pulled back hard on a blood-soaked wrist, trying to break their thumb and free themselves.

Vigilante stepped forwards, coming closer to Hero and kneeling in front of them. He grabbed Hero’s hand in his and pulled a roll of bandages from his pocket. “Please, don’t hurt yourself, Hero,” he said, and it sounded so like Hero’s Vigilante that they couldn’t help but stare as Vigilante carefully and meticulously wrapped Hero’s bloodied wrist. “You must be weak from waking and hurting yourself more will only delay the healing process.”

Hero stared at Vigilante while he worked. Their heart slamming against their chest and for a moment, a single, logic defying moment, Hero could pretend that it was only Vigilante and them in the world, maybe back in that shack in the trenches, and he was berating them for being foolhardy in battle.

But of course, reality didn’t let Hero have that delusion for long.

“He’s right you know,” Supervillain said. Hero didn’t take their eyes from Vigilante, afraid if they did that he would disappear again. “In fact, Vigilante watched over you while you slept, Hero. Making sure you were okay.”

Vigilante blushed hard, shooting a sideways smile at Supervillain, but he didn’t drop Hero’s fingers, or their hand and Hero held onto his for dear life. “Way to make me sound like a creep, Supervillain.”

“Good looking boy like you?” Supervillain said with a smile in his voice. “I’m certain Hero didn’t mind.”

Hero stared at Vigilante, heart pounding so loud it felt like everyone could hear but they didn’t care. They had to know. “Why?”

Vigilante’s dark hair fell over his forehead as he looked at Hero once more. “What?”

“Why did you watch over me?”

Vigilante ran their thumb over the knuckles of Hero’s hand absent-minded as he considered the question. “I… I don’t know. I just felt the need to be close to you, like… like I’ve known you all my life,” he said earnestly, his golden eyes bright. “Like this isn’t our first conversation.”

Hope struck in the shape of a knife straight through Hero’s chest as they deflated in the chair, in the cuffs, under Vigilante’s gaze. They knew it wasn’t an accident that Vigilante felt that familiarity that Medic and Teleport didn’t. That he was as soft and gentle as he was with Hero before… it all made a perfectly, devastating picture.

Supervillain crafted Vigilante into the perfect trap for Hero and fuck did it work. How Hero went from hysterical in one second to docile and quiet the moment Vigilante touched them. How their body remembered what their mind fought so hard to try and differentiate against. And Hero understood too the peace offering that this was from Supervillain to them, that he had kept Vigilante happy and fed, that he was in this box instead of down in the ring fighting for his life.

Hero swallowed the lump in their throat. They couldn’t rage against this softness. “Funny,” Hero replied hollowly. They could feel Supervillain and Villain’s gazes lock on hungrily at Hero’s reply. “I feel the same.”

Vigilante's smile was a hammer poised to crack Hero's ribs, but they didn't care. They couldn't. They'd do anything to get Vigilante back, anything... even if that meant sacrificing the world and following Supervillain's plans.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Hehehe, I will refer back to the song that inspired this entire series Gladiator by Jann...

Tag-list— @micechomper @aarika-merrill @silentpotat0 @dutifullykrispyland @gloriousqueen101 @ehobep @alynaevelyn

[mj-iza-writer]

Warning: amputation, burn victim, suicide attempt, hatred to someone's race. Contains: prisoner of war, grumpy unwilling Caretaker, snarky Whumpee. Recovery Whump.

"Hey Caretaker, we got a rough one", the team walked into the medic's office, "peeled them off the battle ground. They were left for dead by their people during a retreat. They're still alive because of Leader."

Caretaker watched as someone was hoisted roughly onto the operating table.

The person was wrapped in tattered rags and whatever else the soldiers could find.

Tiny whimpers escaped the gnarled form.

"They stumbled out of a burning building", Leader came in, "I think you can see they were in there for a little too long. They're a little crispy around the legs. The rest of them looks alright though. They've been crying in pain our entire way here though."

Caretaker pulled some of the cloth off of the gnarled skin, "so what do you want me to do? Need them alive for questioning?"

"I was hoping to return them to their family. We may be enemies, but we're not monsters. I'm trying to reach out to the leaders of that side", Leader looked over Whumpee, "just see if you can get them stable enough to be transferred."

Caretaker laughed roughly, "you're kidding. You want me to waste time and resources on trash. Why not take 'em out back and kill 'em."

"They are someone's family", Leader sighed, "just stabilize them."

"What if I refuse?", Caretaker argued.

"I will lose a lot of respect for you. And you'll be dishonorably dismissed from your duties. You'd let a poor soul sit in pain just because they were born somewhere else", the Leader glared, "I don't know anyone else who can fix this. You won't even willingly look at them. You have what's needed, we have plenty of supplies to help them."

"Fine", Caretaker raised their voice, "but I'm not doing this willingly", they turned to the person on the bed, "and I won't be gentle. If I hear any complaints from them... I will only be rougher. Now get out of my office."

Caretaker grumbled as they turned.

Leader stepped over to Whumpee as the team left.

"I will be back to check on you. Hopefully with some good news about returning you", Leader sighed, "don't let Caretaker scare you, they know what they're doing, just a little angry about it."

Caretaker cursed in between every breath.

"What were you even doing in a building?", Caretaker sighed as they worked, "probably trying to desert your post."

Whumpee winced louder than before.

"Sorry... sor... uh **cough**", Caretaker frowned, "I guess I did that a little harsher than I planned."

Whumpee took a few short breaths.

"De... de", Whumpee tried to talk.

"De-what?", Caretaker looked at them roughly, "deserter? As I suspected..."

"Decoy", Leader had snuck in behind Caretaker.

"Decoy?", Caretaker turned.

"They are a homeless person, pulled off the streets and forced to fight", Leader sighed, "they were considered expendable. The soldiers had to escape. They left this one in the building for us while they left. The building was purposely set on fire to get this one to run out at us. That way, our soldiers only focused on them, not the retreaters. They will be killed if we hand them back to their people."

"That's horrid", Caretaker looked down at their hands.

Caretaker followed Leader out after a guard came to monitor Whumpee.

"So what are your thoughts?", Leader looked behind them to see Caretaker.

"I have to amputate. Both of the legs are gone", Caretaker frowned, "their lower half is still burnt, but not as bad. I can work with it. The legs are a no. It might be better to kill them. A mercy kill. What are we going to do after? Hand them back, and let them get killed? Then, it would still be a waste of time and resources."

"I thought about...", Leader paused in thought, "keeping them here with us. They could live with me."

"Here... you're kidding", Caretaker frowned.

"No, I'm not kidding", Leader sighed, "you should have seen them stumbling out of the fire, it was heart breaking."

Caretaker glared.

"Don't look at me like that", Leader frowned, "do the amputation, give them a chance."

Caretaker came in later carrying a tray.

"You need to eat something", Caretaker set the tray down.

Whumpee watched them nervously.

"I'm not going to hit you, you've been hurt a lot already", Caretaker sat down, "just need to feed you."

"I'm not hungry", Whumpee mumbled, "why do you care?"

"I don't care... you got that right", Caretaker raised their voice, "Leader is the one who cares. Actually I now have to amputate your legs because of Leader's little sympathy project."

"Am-amputate?", Whumpee's eyes widened, "I-I don't want that."

"You don't get a say", Caretaker shoveled a spoon full of the food into Whumpee's gasping mouth, "I will make you comfortable tonight. The surgery gets done tomorrow. You're a prisoner, you don't get to decide what happens."

Whumpee choked slightly.

"Please just kill me. I-I was meant to die anyway", Whumpee pleaded.

"I would happily kill you. You are nothing but trash in my eyes", Caretaker roughly shoveled more food into Whumpee's mouth, "Leader wants you alive, so again, you have no choice."

Whumpee frowned as Caretaker walked away. They had placed an IV into their arm.

They reached for the IV, but Caretaker threw something at them before they could yank it out.

"I swear, I will perform this amputation without anesthesia if you pull that out. You will go through this battlefield style", Caretaker warned, "I'll even rub dirt in to make it more realistic."

Whumpee huffed.

"You know what, I think it's time to start", Caretaker came over with some injections, "give me some peace finally."

Whumpee watched as an injection was administered.

"What is.. that?", Whumpee whispered, "I-I feel numb suddenly."

"It is an anesthetic. In a few moments, you will not feel or be able to move. After you confirm that you can not feel anything, I will put you under."

"Wow, this is the first time in a while that I don't feel any pain", Whumpee looked up in amazement.

"Don't be dramatic, you've only had these burns for twenty-four hours or so", Caretaker prepped the breathing mask.

"My pain started much before this", Whumpee sighed, "do you think this is my first pain? Do you think I was treated well over there? I was homeless. Trash, like you said. I wasn't given food, just scraps from the other soldiers. This is the first bed I've slept in in years. Even in war, I was too broke to afford blankets. I slept on the ground. Normally, where my body collapsed. The expendable soldiers normally slept together in piles to keep warm. We weren't seen as much there either. Though you don't like me, you've shown more mercy to me than anyone else has. That's why I was hoping you would kill me, to show me a final mercy."

"I can't kill you", Caretaker talked lowly. Semi-comfortingly even, "I'm sorry for your luck, but it's time."

Whumpee grunted as Caretaker forced the mask on them.

"Do I get a final word or something?", Whumpee mumbled muffly, "in case I die?"

"You won't die. I won't allow it", Caretaker felt around, "do you feel any of this?"

"Feel what?", Whumpee sighed.

"Perfect", Caretaker smiled as they flipped a switch to the breathing mask.

Moments later Whumpee was out and prepped.

"Finally some quiet", Caretaker sighed.

Whumpee's eyes opened slowly.

"Mmm, is it done already?", Whumpee groaned.

"Already?", Leader leaned over and grinned, "you were out for a few hours."

"I was?", Whumpee slowly blinked.

"Yes, Caretaker stepped out for a breather", Leader frowned, "you know, we realized we don't know what your name is."

"Whumpee", they dared to look down, "how bad is it."

"Caretaker did a good job. They removed some of your underarm skin to replace some of the burnt skin. They will be able to focus on healing the rest of your skin as they heal this."

"Mmm", Whumpee moaned.

"You have some time to rest. It seems the war is going to be done soon. I will be taking you home with me after", Leader looked over Whumpee.

"As your prize? A pet? Look at my prisoner of war. Yes, I had them amputate", Whumpee mocked hatefully, "I would rather die."

"It won't be like that", Leader frowned, "you'll see what I mean."

Leader stepped away when Caretaker came back in.

Whumpee glanced around and found a scalpel.

Caretaker turned just in time to see Whumpee cut their wrist.

"I don't think so", Caretaker hurried, "I've had plenty of suicide attempts to deal with. Nice try."

Whumpee slowly blinked away tears as they watched Caretaker tie a tourniquet.

Leader hurried to help.

"They missed", Caretaker chuckled as they held gauze over the cut, "we won't have any of that. I didn't just spend the last few hours amputating you for you to do that. Am I clear?"

Caretaker set a tray on Whumpee's table and slid it closer to them.

Whumpee sighed and looked at it. They then glanced at the handcuffs that bound them to the bed.

"You have two options: you can let me feed you and get the blessings of eating utensils or you can feed yourself with one of my wooden tongue depressors", Caretaker held up the stick mockingly.

"I'm not going to try it again... I give up", Whumpee grumbled, "you won't let me die anyways. You seem to know how to stop anything I do."

"Well, I'm just that good", Caretaker grinned, "what will it be?"

"I-I can feed myself. Let me have some self respect", Whumpee sighed.

Caretaker adjusted the bed slightly.

Whumpee was finally able to see how much had been amputated.

"Th-that much had to go?", Whumpee whimpered.

"Uh, yes, it wasn't great. I had to take more than I even planned. I tried not to over do it. That's why this leg is slightly longer", Caretaker pointed then unlocked the shackles.

Whumpee wiped at their eyes.

"I... am... actually sorry that I had to remove that much... if that counts for anything", Caretaker handed them the wooden tool.

Whumpee sniffled as they nodded.

"Look on the brightside, the war is over now. You won't have to deal with me for very much longer. Leader is already setting up visits for you to see doctors near their home. You probably won't have to see me very often once this is all over", Caretaker grinned, "I might actually miss you."

"I doubt you will", Whumpee looked down, "I guess I do appreciate you taking care of me though."

"There, we can leave it at that. Not too much of enemies now", Caretaker watched Whumpee take a bite, "at least we will leave the battlefield a little but friendlier than we started."

Whumpee sniffled slightly before smiling weakly at Caretaker.

A year passed by.

Whumpee received expert medical care from Leader's most trusted doctors. They were able to finish what Caretaker started.

Whumpee was in full recovery now, just a little more therapy, the burns had healed. Only leaving nasty scarring.

Often, Whumpee covered their lap with a blanket that Caretaker had given them as a gift when the war was over. It was good for covering the scars and helping keep their legs warm or out of sunlight.

"Hey Whumpee", Leader stepped into Whumpee's room, "we are having a guest over for dinner, and to stay for a few nights. Please be on your best behavior."

"Why wouldn't I?", Whumpee frowned.

"You'll see", Leader winked.

Leader had adopted Whumpee as a member of the family, and was working on Whumpee's citizenship to finalize everything.

Whumpee climbed into their wheelchair and hurried to the lift elevator so they could get to the main floor.

In their haste they accidentally caught their wheel on some of the stair railing. Their wheelchair turned sharply and tumbled down a few steps with Whumpee along with it.

They took some large gasp of air before sitting up.

"I'm starting to think injuring yourself is just a habit", a familiar voice approached.

"Ca-Caretaker?", Whumpee looked up worriedly.

"That was quite a tumble", Leader came in, "I didn't see it, but it I heard you across the house."

Leader picked the chair up, and held it while Caretaker lifted Whumpee.

"Next time, the elevator... please", Leader mocked, "I'm aware the stairs are faster, but I installed the lift for a reason."

"I'll try my best", Whumpee giggled before turning to Caretaker, "I take it you're our special guest?"

"Yes", Caretaker nodded, "I had to come this way for work, I thought I'd stop in to see how well you healed and adjusted. Leader invited me to stay while I'm in town."

Whumpee looked up at Leader, then at Caretaker.

"Is that a problem?", Caretaker grinned.

"No, not at all. It's just been a while. I wasn't sure I would ever see you again", Whumpee grinned sheepishly, "I honestly have kind of missed you."

"I missed you too", Caretaker admitted, "how about after dinner, we spend some time together and talk."

"I'd like that", Whumpee nodded.

Leader grinned, "that works, I have to actually leave soon after dinner to meet someone. You both will have to excuse me tonight unfortunately."

Caretaker nodded, "as always, Leader always disappears and leaves me with the troublesome ones", they grinned and poked at Whumpee shoulder, "just like old times."

"I don't always", Leader pouted playfully.

Whumpee giggled lightly, "just like old times."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the taglist. It's not a problem at all.

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[macknus]

Brotherly love

Protagonist gasps as he’s flung from his horse, the wind knocked out of him as he lands painfully on his back, his sword clattering a metre away. He blinks at the gun-powdered sky, fog like smoke filling the air as his horse kicks up dirt on his face and races away. Protagonist groans as he rolls, a hiss pulls from between his teeth as his ribs scream at him for moving, but he has to. He’s defenceless on the ground.

He turns his head to see his sword lying in wait and he gets to his hands and knees, sucking in a breath as his body screams at him to stay down.

A foot slams into his back, right between his shoulder blades and Protagonist’s head smacks against the dirt. White flashes behind his eyes as he groans miserably. The foot retracts and Protagonist takes it as his opportunity to lunge for the blade, and just as it’s within his grasp—

“My brother,” a voice mocks above him as a boot slams on the back Protagonist’s hand. Protagonist cries out as the spiked heel digs into his hand, pinning it to the dirt. “The white knight. Ever the saviour.”

Protagonist gasps, freezing beneath his attacker. He— he knows that voice. He swallows as he tilts his head over his shoulder and looks up into the smoke soaked sky, and there, bathed in grey, stands a face that looks like his own.

An impossible face.

A face that is dead.

His brother is dead.

“Brother?” he asks with a soft breath. The spike is yanked from Protagonist’s hand and he hisses as blood pumps freely, clamping his other hand over it as his brother steps around him towards his head. Protagonist follows him the whole time with his eyes. “It— it can’t be, y-you’re alive?”

A tip of a steel toed boot catches Protagonist’s cheek, flipping him onto his back and staring at the sky again before a weight slams down on his waist. Another punch slams his head to the right and careful fingers draw him back to face the sky, but the sky isn’t visible with his brother’s cobalt eyes glaring down at him.

“I’m alive, dear brother,” he snarls and his arms snaps out again. Blood spurts from Protagonist’s lips onto the dirt as careful fingers draw him back again. He chokes on the blood as he tries to speak, but it doesn’t matter when Brother grabs his wrist of his uninjured hand and pins it under his knee. Protagonist cries out as Brother leans his weight on his wrist, blood bubbling up over his chin, reaching up with a bloodied hand to try and bat him away. But his blood greased palm only makes Brother’s polished black armour gleam in the light. “You would have known that if you tried to look for me.”

Protagonist stares, his eyes wide, his heart racing beneath his chest plate. “I— I did. Brother, I looked for you, I—”

Brother’s hand shot out, grabbing Protagonist’s cheeks between his fingers and squeezing viciously as he leaned down, eyes manic and filled with rage.

“You left me! To rot!” Brother cries, tears gleaming in his eyes, making them brighter. “You left me, and for what? Hmm? For the cause? For the mission?”

He leans in, his grip tightening further until Protagonist can’t contain his grunt of pain. Blood slick hand grasping Brother’s desperately, trying to ease the pressure.

“For the girl?” He whispers venomously, his breath fanning Protagonist’s face he was so close, his words poisonous and filled with hurt. In a flash he releases Protagonist and slams his fist against his jaw again.

White flashes again behind Protagonist’s eyes as the pain makes his ears ring. He coughs onto the ground, and Brother doesn’t turn his head back this time as Protagonist’s vision shutters.

“Brother,” Protagonist groans, his eyes filling with tears. “I— we thought you were dead. I… I mourned you.”

The battle could have stopped for all Protagonist could hear of it. The only affirmative he has that they are still on the battlefield is the rumbles of feet and horses beating against the dirt below. The world slows around them as Protagonist turns his head back with an effort to look at his brother.

But all he sees is a stranger staring down at him with disgust and apathy.

“You were right to,” Brother replies, sniffling. His eyes hard, even as tears trail down his dirty face. “Your brother died that day. And after they tortured me, after they got tired of my screams, after they broke me,” Brother says, his voice breaking. “They built me up again. Thought I’d be useful. They knew I knew your skills, your training, your tactics, brother to the king,” he drawls like it’s an insult. “And you know something? They were right.”

“Brother… no. You’re not… you can’t be one of them.” Protagonist whispers, horror flashing across his features.

Brother smiles and it freezes Protagonist below him. “You can take that up with Antagonist.”

Before Protagonist could protest, Brother’s fist slams down on his face and darkness swallows him whole.

***

Gen-tag list (aka, all the cool people assemble😎): @sunflower1000 @scoundrelwithboba @glimmering-whump @distinguished-ruler (I’m kidding I love you all, lmk if you wanna be added/removed ^.^)

[whumpcreations]

Whump promt: Immortality is a curse

"Can you tell me about the war? Can you tell me your story, Whumpee?" Caretaker asked.

Whumpee took a sip of their tea but didn't say anything. The silence grew longer and just when Caretaker thought, Whumpee wouldn't answer, Whumpee spoke.

"The war was horrible. Every war is. And even if you fight for the right cause, you still end up knee deep in some bloody mud with your allies dying next to you."

Whumpee's eyes were distant looking at something only Whumpee could see.

"Every war consists of battlefields soaked with blood and pain and agony. And this war was no different.

"I fought with the resistance and that's where I met my partner. Their name was Rhea and they were my light in those very dark times.

The ghost of a smile flitted across Whumpee's face.

"I couldn't imagine a life without them. But just as war usually does, it took everything away from me. I lost everything to this fucking war."

Whumpee's voice wavered and their hands nearly crushed the cup they were holding.

"In our final battle we fought against this thing, this otherworldly goddess or whatever it was. We knew there was only one way to kill it, to completely erase it from existence. Back then, I still had my magic. It was the right kind to fight against its darkness, but I was far too weak. There was this... spell someone could perform to...."

Whumpee took a deep breath before they continued.

"This spell could give someone an immense amount of power; it could make someone immortal. But the price was a soul. And not just any soul but one with a deep connection to the performer. I was a coward because even though I knew it could end this war, I wasn't ready so let go of my love."

Silent tears ran down Whumpee's cheeks. Not once since they started talking to Caretaker had they looked into Caretaker's eyes.

"Rhea was the brave one. While on the battlefield they performed the spell and when I fought against the goddess, Rhea completed the sacrifice by pressing their cut hand against mine, mixing our blood and ending their own life.

"The power I had then was barely enough to end the goddess. I gave so much, not a single drop of my magic remained. But the goddess was gone and the war ended.

"After the fight I cradled Rhea in my arms, screaming, crying but they were gone. I don't remember much after that but someone must've carried me away because I woke up in the capital's castle. But with the war ending my personal hell began.

"My magic was gone and I never thought one could feel so empty. Most of my friends were dead. I had to learn how to live without Rhea. And I got older and older and older. And the dying started again. All the people I loved started dying around me, finally at peace and being able to walk into the afterlife. At some point I was completely and utterly alone.

"I moved into the woods because I could not bear seeing the world around me change, seeing all the people I once knew die around me, and seeing the world forget about the sacrifce my partner made.

"This immortality is a curse. I am more than 250 years old and all I wish for is finally being able to join my loved ones wherever they are now."

Caretaker felt tears running down their face.

"Thank you for telling me."

Whumpee seemed to be surprised that there was still somebody in the room. They stood up, walked to the window, and stared into the dark and rainy forest.

"We'll find a way to break the spell. I promise, Whumpee."