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@befuddled-calico-whump

calico • 26 • she/her • whump prompts, comics, and art
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Augusnippets Day 29: Singing

cw: aftermath of/referenced torture and captivity

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 665

=~=~=

Benji hummed quietly from the spare bed, an open paperback on his knee, words neglected and unread. It felt weird to watch Sahota sleep, but he couldn't take his eyes away. Every little shift, every change in breathing spiked his nerves. He was healing now, filling in, looking almost healthy, but he still wore the remnants of his weeks in the cell.

They'd almost been too late. Benji couldn't shake that. He'd still been recovering when Joy and Jer finally found Sahota, bedbound for almost a week after his own horrible ordeal, but it all felt so small when they'd carried him in.

He'd been almost skeletal, bruised up and unconscious, his torso wrapped in a hasty bandage that was oozing blood from everywhere. Benji didn't need to be in the medbay anymore by the time they got to him, but he'd moved back in anyway. Couldn't leave him alone for a second, couldn't let him wake up to being alone, because that had sure fucked him up the first few nights, and—

Sahota coughed in his sleep, and a zap went through Benji's nerves at the sound. His eyes went to the man's face, scanning for anything wrong, seeing nothing but an expression that looked almost peaceful.

Okay. Good.

He continued humming, a little louder now in an effort to calm his nerves. 

The summers die, one by one. How soon they fly…

Yeesh. Maybe a little on the nose.

Good morning Baaaltimore, every day's like an ooopen door—

“Y’singing?”

Benji nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't realized Sahota was awake. Had he woken with the cough? Or before it? Had Benji woken him up?

“Uh. Humming,” he answered. “So kind of?”

“Mm.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Benji found himself holding way too still. He was a little irritated that he couldn't tell if it was residual jitters from his stint in the cell or just regular awkwardness.

Sahota was the one to break the silence.

“You don't have to stop.”

“Yeah?” It was all he could think to say in the moment.

“Better than silence.”

Yeah. He got that much. Humming and singing under his breath had been the only way he could comfort himself, especially once they started leaving the bag on. His captors didn't like it, but it was the one thing he kept coming back to, even after they'd hit him for it a few times. Silence was a killer.

“Any requests?” he said lightly. 

“Anything you want,” Sahota responded, shifting against his pillows. 

“Hope you like showtunes.”

The other man let out a quiet chuckle, and Benji smiled at the sound. “Sure. You know the Flintstones theme?”

He had to keep himself from busting out laughing. The man was bedbound, he had to cut him some slack here. “That's not what I mean by showtunes,” he said. “I'm thinking more along the lines of Broadway musicals.”

Sahota's eyebrows went up slightly, though his eyes remained closed. “I liked The Lion King. Does that count?”

“The musical?”

“No, the cartoon. Is there a musical?”

This time, Benji did laugh. “Oh, you have a lot to learn.”

“Are you planning on teaching me?”

“I can go on for hours if that's what you want.”

“Beats listening to my own heartbeat.”

“Then don't say I didn't warn you.” Fuck, he wanted to launch into something fun, perform a one-man Wicked, find a way to bring the life back into Sahota---and introduce a hardcore spy man to Broadway, to boot.

But they were both exhausted, and killing silence didn't mean getting loud, not right away.

“Let me take you back to the musical that started it all,” he said. “For me, at least.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise not to laugh.”

A chuckle. “Cross my heart.”

Benji took a breath. It had been ages since he'd sang for an audience, even an audience of one. But right now, this felt like something they both needed.

“Memory, turn your face to the moonlight. Let your memory lead you, open up, enter in…”

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Augusnippets Day 26: Warm Blanket

cw: past noncon drugging and captivity, themes of substance dependency/addiction

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 699

=~=~=

He spends an eternity on the verge of waking up.

Nothing feels real; he's simply adrift, passing between pain and nothingness in a senseless pattern. Everything hurts less, but it still hurts; a dull ache that covers him, rising and falling in intensity. The acrid sting of wounds being cleaned. The claws of the creature, dull teeth gnawing at the inside of his chest.

And sometimes, when it all becomes too much and the spy is left sobbing and shivering and begging for it to stop, there's relief. A true quiet that hardly lasts a moment as the familiar lull of the drug sweeps his veins.

He needs it as much as he needs to never touch it again. The pain is receding, he's getting stronger, yet his skin still crawls without it, a hollow within him growing and growing.

He's almost himself the next time he opens his eyes.

Back at their makeshift base, in a small room with an overhead fan spinning and spinning.

His head hurts. Even glancing around makes him dizzy, but he needs to know where he is, he needs a grasp on his surroundings, on reality.

There's another bed beside him.

Benji’s form is still, a good portion of him covered in bandages and fading bruises, and for a moment Sahota is afraid. But then the other man blinks awake, perhaps feeling eyes on him, and sits bolt upright.

“Sahota!” he says, a hint of a smile on his face. He's quick to quiet himself. “Hey! Hey, how do you feel? It's been. Um, it's almost been a week. We've been worried.”

He hops up, and Sahota notices the distinct lack of tubes or needles or monitoring. Was he just… staying with him?

“I've been better,” he murmurs, his voice grating on its way out of his throat.

“Shit, let me get you some water.” Benji hurries to the cupboard, and Sahota's skin buzzes when he produces a plastic bottle.

Shut up.

The creature is in his throat, trying to claw its way up, to drag itself forward and reach for the water bottle and beg for the emptiness, for the relief from the full body aches and exhaustion. Sahota chokes it down.

His hands shake as he reaches for the bottle, no matter how hard he tries to steady them. 

Shut up.

Before he can even touch it, Sahota forces his hands to his sides, squeezing the blanket with all the force he can muster.

He doesn't need it anymore. There's no need to escape like that. He knows this is something to be expected, something out of his control, but he can't help the anger at himself.

He's supposed to be better than this.

Benji’s brow furrows, mouth tipping down as he clutches the bottle with both hands. “Hey… you okay?”

Sahota forces a nod. “Just… cold.” He's certainly shivering.

Don't think about it, don't think about it. It's just an effect of the shit you just got pulled out of, don't think about it.

“Oh! Here.” The other man pulls the blanket from his own bed, draping it over his shuddering form. Sahota nods again at the contact, closing his eyes so he doesn't see the bottle.

You're just sick. It'll pass.

Benji’s hand finds his own, fingers gingerly wrapping around it. He doesn't pull away.

“I'm glad you're safe.” A gentle squeeze. “If you want to be alone right now, I can go.”

He wants to say no. He so, so badly wants to say no. He's been alone for so long already, in the cell and on the mission and well before either.

But the creature is burning inside him like a bellyful of coals, raking up desperation with its claws, shame rolling off its skin.

He can't be with anyone like this. He needs the little monster gone, expelled, and then maybe. Maybe he can manage to look any of them in the eye.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I–I think that's a good idea.”

(Is it?)

Benji nods, giving him a gentle smile. He leaves the bottle of water on the nightstand beside Sahota's bed.

He doesn't even reach for it until he's sure Benji is long gone.

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Augusnippets Day 23: Massage

cw: chronic/phantom pain

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 516

=~=~=

He was quiet this morning. Not the usual Lex quiet either; brooding or just comfortable in silence. It was something focused, intense despite the lack of sound, and Sarah was pretty sure she knew what that meant.

“Hey. You okay?”

A nod, a little too jerky. She could hear his heart racing beneath layers of clenched muscle, see the sweat start to bead at his forehead, the faraway look in his eyes.

“Tylenol?” she asked.

“Took some already.”

After the first bout of phantom pains she'd seen, She’d made sure his bathroom was well-stocked. What else could help? A heat compress? Or would that feel like a whole lot of nothing, given his powers? She bit her lip. Taking off the cybernetics would probably do something, but she knew they were a source of security for him. The only time she'd seen him without them was after the river, and he'd woken up in a panic. Still, when she looked closer, the skin around the metal looked irritated.

“Do you think taking off your arms would help?”

Unsurprisingly, he shook his head. “No.”

“Not even for a little while?”

“Can't.”

“You know you're safe here—”

“Can't,” he repeated, then added, voice nearly a whisper, “Not… not like this.”

Okay. She could work with that. Maybe once he was in a better headspace they could get a look at the skin under the metal… Fuck, they should probably find some… silicon sleeves or whatever. Those were a thing, right? She didn't know how she'd find someone who specialized in that and wouldn't turn him over to Fox, but she'd sure as fuck try. In the meantime…

“Is it okay if I touch you?” She didn't expect a yes, but after a moment, Lex nodded.

“I'm gonna be behind you, okay? You can tell me to stop at any time.” Another nod, and Sarah moved into place. Her hands were slow to lay on his shoulders, hearing intensifying to listen to his heart.

Slowly, gently, Sarah began to massage his left shoulder, kneading her fingers as close to the metal of his cybernetics as she could.

A soft exhale slipped out of Lex, so loud compared to his heartbeat that it almost made her jump.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah. That's…”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

She moved to the other side. Her hands were already getting a little tired, but she tuned them out.

“If you're comfortable with it, I can do this without the prosthetics on sometime. Might be more effective.”

He nodded against her. “Now?”

“Now?” she repeated.

“Just… one at a time.”

“Yeah.” She stepped back, giving him space to access the mechanism that would release his left arm, extending her own hand to help catch it and lower it to the couch. The scars underneath were thick and uneven, the skin around them reddened. She'd have to be gentle.

He shifted as her fingers grazed the residual limb, eyes drifting closed as she began to knead the tense area. 

Little by little, he relaxed against her.

Little by little, his heartbeat slowed down.

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T$$ Dystopia AU: Part Two

cw: aftermath of whipping/beating, referenced public torture, institutionalized violence, adult language

× × ×

Joy didn't often bother with the floggings or the stocks or the other punishments inflicted by the police state. As shitty as it was, they happened too frequently for her to expend the resources to help every victim. Better to focus her efforts elsewhere and try to stop it altogether.

This was different though.

One of her scouts reported a whipping, and whatever, it was practically a daily occurrence at this point, but then they'd added that the kid on the post had already looked beaten half to death before the first crack even came down. That was just a little too cruel for her to ignore. She figured she'd at least check up on him, make sure he knew where the unsanctioned medic huts were and that he had the means to reach one. The rest of her guys were busy with other taskings, so Joy decided she'd pay him a visit herself.

Only when she arrived at the square, what must've been an hour at least since the flogging had ended, the poor guy was still on the post.

Security was posted around the perimeter, watching their prisoner with a body language like they'd shoot down anyone who tried to help.

If they were going to all these lengths… who was this guy? Just a victim they'd decided to be especially cruel to? Or was he something more?

Knowing the police corp as well as Joy did, she knew either option was equally as viable. Either way, she was gonna rescue the kid, and either way, she'd need some backup.

And fast. Fuck knew how long the poor guy would be able to hold out for.

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Anonymous asked:

wouldnt it be a shame if lex collapsed before getting to choppers………wouldnt it be such a shame if sarah had no choice but to take him back to the rogues………..

cw: fever, aftermath of whump

Sarah's legs shook. Her forearm burned from keeping a tight grip, and her shoulders were on fire, and they weren't even halfway there.

"L-left. Next street."

Sarah managed a nod, too winded to want to attempt words. The only reason she was still standing right now was because she had no choice. It was either push through her stupid muscular exhaustion or abandon Cinder, and the latter wasn't gonna happen.

She took another step forward, her footfall heavy, practically dragging against the pavement. Cinder's breath was hot in her ear, now and then interrupted by a quiet cry of pain when she moved too quickly and jostled his ribs.

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