The Memory Circuit [III]

We’ve all seen the ‘after being tortured whumpee has an absurdly high pain tolerance and caretaker has to ask them why they haven’t moved their hand away from the burning stove etc etc’ and while I do love that trope I raise you:

Whumpee who after being tortured becomes hypersensitive to pain, to the point where stubbing their toe or burning their mouth on hot food or the pressure of their bandages against their wounds is enough to send them spiraling into flashbacks and convince them that caretaker is just another whumper with more creative methods

Becoming a writer is great because now you have a hobby that haunts you whenever you don’t have time to do it

A villain that’s very protective of their hero

A tear ran down their temple when the hero woke up.

"I..." Their throat tightened. It hurt. All of it hurt. As they realised they were covered in dust, their eyes teared up even more, washing the dirt off their face in clear slim lines. They couldn't see much, but there were little rays of sunshine pushing through the concrete above and to their sides, revealing the villain on top of them.

The hero had to swallow, clear their mind. The villain stared at nothing in particular, not even the hero under them. They looked like they were concentrating, but the hero knew that look too well: the villain was in surging pain.

Their washed-out eyes were wide open and there was blood sticking onto their hair. The hero couldn't tell for how long they had been unconscious, but the villain seemed to have been awake the entire time.

Apparently, not even a building collapsing on top of them could destroy them.

The hero stared at them, stared at that face shape, those shoulders, those eyes. Was that it? Were they ultimately going to die together? Right here?

The hero didn't have any energy left in them to lift a finger, at least of all chunks of concrete. Their muscles burnt and they were sure several bones of theirs were broken. They continued to observe their enemy. Their enemy who had saved them. Without them, everything left of the hero would be mushed-up heroism and a torn cape. How was it even possible that the both of them were alive?

"How are you holding up?" the hero whispered. They were sure they had mere minutes before the villain's arms would give out. Mere minutes before the villain would collapse just like the building.

At first, the villain didn't answer. Their arms were shaking. They took in a deep breath.

"My kidneys are definitely done for," they said eventually. Their voice was raspy, their breathing quick. "And my leg is broken. You think some of your friends will come to our rescue?"

"If we can hold on for like ten more minutes, maybe. That's a big if, though." The villain nodded or maybe the hero imagined it, after all their view was extremely limited. "Why'd you do that? You could have saved yourself."

The villain finally looked at them and the hero's chest hurt more than before.

"...how could I not?" they asked.

"No, please, don't do that-"

"You're my everything. I do all of it because of you. I show up to see you, I mess up to see you, I fight to see you."

"Please," the hero begged. They couldn't bear a confession now. They couldn't watch the villain die because of them. "Please don't say that. Please tell me you hate me and it was a mistake or instinct."

"You know that's not true." The villain's blood ran down their side and dribbled onto the hero. They moaned softly. "You know that's not true, not even a little bit."

The villain let out a sharp breath and the hero could tell they were breaking down slowly. Growing weaker while the concrete grew heavier.

Tears gathered in the hero's eyes anew.

"I can't do this," the hero said. "You can't leave me, please. I am so scared. I am so-"

They choked on the words. There wasn't much space for either of them, but the hero managed to push their arm up and although some of their fingers were certainly broken, they touched the villain's cheek.

"Are you getting claustrophobic?" the villain asked gently. Their arms were trembling and more and more blood was running down their sides. The hero knew the villain could barely hold it together and they didn't seem to realise that the hero was rather getting thanatophobic. Even now, the villain remembered that the hero was a little uncomfortable in tight spaces, but the lack of space was their last problem right now. "Don't worry. I am here."

And there it was.

Blood coming out of the villain's mouth.

"I am here, please don't cry," the villain said. "I am right here."

The hero tried to hold back their sobs, but it made everything a little harder.

"I am so tired," the villain whispered. They closed their eyes for a second. "Please, can I lay down? Just for a minute or two. My back hurts so much."

"Yes, come here," the hero answered. Their bottom lip quivered.

But they were more than ready to share the weight the villain had protected them from.

Goretober [5/15]: BEATEN UP

do you have any icks in whump?

I haven't really thought about this before now, so bear with me!

I would say I'm not really squeamish about anything specific, but I did have an experience like. Mid-last-year??? That would suggest otherwise HAHAHAHA

TW: mentions of child abuse.

Whether you've ever heard of Ancient Chinese foot-binding or not, I would suggest proceeding with *extreme* caution if you feel so inclined to research. It was done to young girls, and gosh did I think I could handle one x-ray imaging of this poor victim.

dear nonny, nuh-uh. Not the case at all. While I was staring at this very real x-ray with a sort of horrific fascination, or enthrallment, or whatever you want to call it---it was a mix between the two---anyways; I saw a sort of black fuzziness start to crowd my screen, like crawling, miniscule ants, and I frowned because what the helly man 😔

And I kind of tried to shake my screen, flip my laptop lid back and shut, and I blearily realised it was my very OWN vision infected with this onslaught of static. And I felt so very very tired and sick and nauseous and

Cut.

I'm on my back now. I'm blinking up through a haze, and I vaguely feel my hair scratching my neck and back, and I see the faint, dark outline of something looming above me, and I think, huh. That looks like the desk in my house! :D:D

But my vision sharpens rapidly, and oh, it is my desk

But what's it doing so high up above me-? And I realise my chair is right there, and my arse isn't on it anymore :D, and I'm lying flat on my back and I push myself up with clammy hands and sweaty hair and the room is spinning and dipping, and my stomach does a twisted sort of turn

And I push myself up further onto shaky legs, gripping onto my table with a white-knuckled grip, and I force myself to the kitchen, and pick a mug, any mug [from later investigations I belatedly realised it was the one I usually reserved for rice, no wonder the water tasted like fucking flowers] and I chugged a full shot.

The nausea is still there but it's lessened severely in the bare minutes I stumbled to and from the kitchen, and I walk to my bedroom and stare in the mirror, and Jesus Fuck have I never seen my face so drained before.

I didn't do much afterwards except lay my head on my knees and try to get the beating of my *loser ass* dysfunctional heart back under control. That was my first and only experience of fainting. No I did not enjoy it. But did it serve to enhance the accuracy of its depictions in my writing? Hell YEAH

Anyway, moral of the story is. Please be cautious when consuming media. Do NOT overestimate yourself for your own sake please I beg of you. I could've suffered a concussion if there was anything to hit my empty head on, passing out is not fun!!!!

But it's all the more reason to whump your blorbos with it amirite 😈

Sorry for derailing so disastrously. I can say with full confidence, my whump-related ick? Child abuse, child whump. Not to say I wouldn't interact---I WILL read, and have written such works on the regular. Frequent compulsory breaks tend to help me a lot! But it's not something I tend to react positively to.

The fact I was viewing imagery of something that happened to real children in real life was just... more upsetting than usual?

Can you do a prompt about the Hero being apart of a team and Villain is forced to work with the Hero's team after being kicked out of their own villian team. The members of the Hero's Team doesn't trust the Villain but the hero does, mostly because the hero thinks the villain cute and reminds him of someone.

Very inspired by prompt 339.

Corrupted By a Pretty Face

The alarm blared across the spaceship. Red lights flashed on and off. The hero put down their sandwich. What was it now? They looked down at their watch. An incoming call was coming in from their second in command. The hero left the dining bay, running, and picked up the call. Their second’s distressed face projected above the watch. The hero held up their wrist as they ran.

“What’s the issue?” The hero said.

“Your fugitive!” Their second shouted. Veins were popping out of his forehead.

The hero sighed. “What has the villain done now?”

“Come and see for yourself! We’re next to the greenhouse.”

On the plus side, by the time the hero got there, the flashing lights and the blaring alarm had turned off. On the other hand, half the crew was standing there, everyone glaring at the villain. The hero slowed down, trying to piece together what had happened from everyone’s faces.

“This is why we don’t just pick up every criminal we-”

The second cut himself off when he saw the hero. Everyone else saw them and quickly scattered. Except for the second and the greenhouse head. The hero approached them. They gave the villain a quick look. They looked very pretty, as always. But also very guilty. Not a good sign.

“Okay. What happened?”

“Disaster, captain!” the greenhouse head said. Her eyes went wide. “They sampled the hybrids!”

‘The hybrids’ were several cross-plant breeding projects the on-ship farmers were working on. They were an innovation, considering the mixed plants were from different planets. A project like that could get you access to any planet across the galaxy. They took a long time to grow, and only 5 out of 100 would ripen well. So they were saved for the most important diplomats across the Milky Way. And the villain had eaten some.

“You’re joking,” the hero said.

They looked back at the villain. The villain blinked for a second, remembered what they had done, and took a deep bow of apology. Mostly, the hero thought, to avoid eye contact with the three people staring daggers at them.

“I’m truly, deeply sorry, captain. I didn’t know the fruits were of significance.”

The hero had to tamp down a laugh. The villain’s tongue was purple with fruit juice.

“The fruits,” the greenhouse head mocked. “They’re scientific marvels! Why, I-”

“Hey,” the hero touched her arm. “How about you take a minute. Survey the damage. Get back to me later. Okay? I’ll deal with them.”

The greenhouse head looked even angrier, but she nodded. “Okay, captain.”

She stomped back into the greenhouse and slammed the door. The hero gestured at their second to get lost, too. He frowned. The hero gestured again. He rolled his eyes. 

“I hope you finally see what a mistake this was,” the second said.

Then he turned on his heels and walked away. His heels clicked down the corridor. The hero rubbed their temple. The people on this ship sometimes acted no older than five.

“Hey. Look at me.”

The villain finally broke their bow and sheepishly made eye contact. The hero tilted their head, surveying the villain up and down. Hopefully the villain would think they were just assessing the situation. The hero looked into the villain’s eyes again and started walking backwards.

“Follow me.”

The hero did this sometimes. They knew this ship with their eyes closed. And it was more convenient looking at someone while they talked. Bonus, it made the villain focus on them, trying to see if the hero tripped up. After watching the hero make two flawless turns, the hero finally started the interrogation.

“Tell me what happened.”

The villain rubbed their arm. “Okay, so, like I missed mealtime, right? So the dining bay wasn’t serving food anymore.”

“There’s always food. Make a sandwich.”

“But I didn’t want a sandwich.”

“Fine. So you went into the greenhouse?”

The villain nodded. “I was just picking some fruits for a snack.”

“And you didn’t notice the giant ‘don’t touch’ sign above the hybrids.”

“I don’t think so? Or I ignored it. I’m not sure.”

Of course they weren’t. The hero came to a sudden stop. The villain almost ran into them. The hero turned to their left. The room was numbered 38625B. Their office. They pressed their thumb to the scanner. The door slid open.

“Come in,” the hero said, moving inside.

Their office was a desk with high shelves on either side. They contained books, gadgets, and pictures from across the stars. Behind the desk was a mounted painting of the outside of the ship. The hero knew the villain thought the painting was a little over the top. But the hero loved their vessel.

The hero sat down at their crowded desk and had the villain sit across from them. The hero went into a desk drawer and rooted around. Finally, they pulled out a sheet of paper. They put it on the desk so the villain could see it. It was the agreement the villain had signed a few months ago, when they had just boarded the ship. It was an agreement to behave according to the ship’s code of conduct. The hybrids were explicitly mentioned. The hero plucked a pen from their overstuffed pencil holder and pointed at the clause.

“You’ve done some strange things on this ship. Spreading greenpox-”

“I didn’t know I had it when I boarded!”

“-and making the soap in all the bathrooms explode everywhere-” “I was just testing their durability.”

“What about almost killing Lucky?”

The villain rubbed their neck. “My bad. But dogs are contaminated with a million diseases.”

“That’s what his shots are for. Remember how you didn’t have any for greenpox?”

“Okay, point taken.”

The hero continued. “But messing with the hybrids? Clear violation of the code of conduct.”

“Trying to kill the dog wasn’t?”

“We’re not supposed to have dogs on the ship. So.”

“I knew it!”

“Anyway,” the hero tapped the contract. “I have grounds to kick you off this ship. Abandon you on the next sparsely populated exoplanet and let you find your own way.”

The villain took in what the hero said. It gave them pause. “But. . .you’re not going to?”

The hero balled up the paper and tossed it in the trash can next to their desk. “Nope.”

The villain stared for a second. “The crew’s not going to like that.”

“Which is why I’m going to draft up a new contract,  without hybrids, and we’re going to pretend that was the agreement all along. Like I forgot to add it.”

“You never forget anything,” the villain said.

“I almost never forget anything,” the hero responded.

The villain reached out and clasped the hero’s hands. The hero looked down at where their skin touched and tried not to blush. This must be a custom on the villain’s planet.

“Thank you,” the villain said. “How can I ever repay you?”

“By behaving,” the hero deadpanned.

They pulled their hands back. The villain was smiling wide. “I don’t know why you’ve decided to help me, but I’m eternally grateful.”

The hero smiled back. “If I left you, you would just find another gang to get abandoned by, and we’d find you again in six months trying to rob us to make ends meet.”

“Hey,” the villain said. “Rude.”

“But I’m not wrong.”

The villain didn’t have to know how cute the hero found them. Or that they reminded the hero of everyone back home they had a crush on. The villain would probably tell everyone, and the crew wouldn’t take kindly to the hero giving someone they found attractive special treatment. But boy, did it make it hard to look at the villain’s face and stay mad. If the hero ever even was mad.

“Okay,” the hero said. “Get out of here. I don’t want to see you leave your quarters until tomorrow.”

“But-”

“I’ll bring you food later! Just get out of here.”

The villain nodded. They stood up, bowed once more, and quickly shuffled out. The hero leaned back against their chair and sighed. Why did they always fall for criminals? It was going to get them in big trouble one day.

Then again, you only live once. The hero hated to say it, but they were looking forward to visiting the villain’s room later.

If my ocs were real and I walked into a room with all of them I'd immediately get jumped

It’s really bold of me, a neurodivergent who struggles with rejection sensitivity, to want to be a writer— a career path forged entirely by rejection.

The Memory Circuit BOK JOYEUX!!!!

I've been neglecting the actual story but I'll cry about it. Anyway, here's some art instead.

I finally made art for my own story!

This piece is from The Memory Circuit and is a glimpse into Bok's past, where the adrenaline of a mission hasn’t fully worn off just yet. It’s not his blood! He’s catching his breath before he disappears again *cackles in conspiring author*. In all seriousness though, it’s my first time illustrating a scene from The Memory Circuit, and I'm literally so proud I could holler—Bok means so much to me and I’m just GAHHHH about seeing him like this. I hope you all enjoy it!!!

⎉: @chaotic-orphan @morning-star-whump Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Masterlist | The Memory Circuit