#capture whump

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee has never been picked up before in their adult years, they're no small or delicate thing.

Now imagine Whumper effortlessly picking them up and gently placing them in the trunk of their car c:

[dioles-writes]

• OC FICLET •

Masterlist | Characters: Rory (they/she), Alzena (she/her), Winola (she/her)

Characters in purple belong to @jiphenn and Winola belongs to @sleepsloooop

Rory skipped through the cool gray halls of the Medicinal Unit base, her footsteps echoing faintly as she led Alzena and Winola towards a door.

Winola had been through these very halls many times, though this place was never one that she enjoyed to visit. Here was where she met with Reese for her bi-monthly mental health check ups, days that Winola would always try and avoid like the plague. Out of all of Paradise, the Medicinal Unit had to be one of her least favourite spots. Being back here…. It just filled her an ever-familiar feeling of dread.

Rory stopped in front of a random steel-gray door, one identical to the many others in this hall. She pulled out some keys from her pocket and unlocked it, leading Winola and Alzena inside. “Alzena go over there, Winola go over there.” She said, pointing at two metal tables separate from each other.

Winola made her way over to the table, still unable to resist Rory’s control, no matter how much she tried to fight it. As soon as she was lying down on the cool metal of the table Rory was strapping her down, tying tight restraints around her, until she could only freely move her head. “Whew, you should be good now.”

It was like a sigh of relief. In an instant, the numbness that had overtaken her entire body disappeared as Rory released Winola from their control. Winola should have been glad. She had been fighting all day to break out of the mind control and regain her senses, but strapped down to a table, unable to even so much as adjust her uncomfortable position, it just felt like an irony. As long as Rory was still around, she was never going to be free.

Rory made their way over to Alzena, strapping her down as well. “I hope you had a good time today Winola.” They said, rubbing their head and grunting in discomfort. “Hopefully it cheered January up seeing you!”

Winola could still feel the terror that ran through her veins at January’s look of bloodlust. His words repeated in her mind, sounding almost foreign coming out of his mouth. She remembered, before Paradise, before the Winter Concert, before he changed, how nice his company had been. She could never expect to feel unwelcome by someone like January. He always took care into making sure everyone was included, that she was included. She couldn’t remember a time in her life before she had met him when someone did that, when someone had been so kind to her.

January had been so different back then. A part of her… missed him.

He was the kind of person that everyone wanted around. No one seemed to hate him, not truly. Even Felix, who wasn’t nice to really anyone, was nice to January. He had a way with people, despite not having the experience to back it up. Nobody really seemed to have much bad to say about him. He was just so naturally charming. He could always been seen with a friendly, warm smile on his face, one that just seemed to put everyone at ease.

But now, he was just so much… colder. She remembered how he screamed at the Board Game Club on the Day of New Waves, how his voice had been filled with so much pent-up rage and sorrow. Before Gunther’s betrayal, Avil’s death, he would never have turned his back on them like he did, would never have stared at Winola was such a murderous glare, would never have even had the thought to kill her.

He’d changed so much. But strapped to the cool, uncomfortable table, staring sadly at her best friend whose face showed no recognition about where she even was, it dawned on her that it wasn’t just January.

They’d all changed so much. And they weren’t ever going to get back what they had together, when the Board Game Club still existed. When Avil was still alive.

Rory went and picked up a knife from a nearby table, walking closer to Alzena. “It sure was tough trying to stabilize all three of you at once.” She said, picking up Alzena’s hand. “Especially when you’re constantly putting up a fight.” She ran her thumb softly across her knuckles.

The sight disgusted Winola. She wished nothing more than to break free of her restraints, to run to Alzena’s side and put herself between the two of them. It’s what Alzena would’ve done if she were in her position.

Alzena would have never allowed Winola to be taken. To be so badly hurt. Alzena had sacrificed herself to keep Winola safe, to make sure that she would make it back home. That she would survive.

But here Winola was, weak, worthless. Despite all her training these past few months, despite all their attempts to get Alzena back, she’d still allowed herself to now be taken too. Alzena’s brave sacrifice had been for nothing. And now she could do nothing but watch as Rory held a knife over her best friend.

“Now keep quiet while I work, okay?” Rory said softly, setting Alzena’s hand back down on the cool metal table. They lifted their own hand up, knuckles almost white from how tightly they were clutching the shiny gray knife.

“Don’t hurt her.” Winola pleaded.

Rory slammed the knife down, the sound of bones snapping echoing through the room like a gunshot.

“Sorry, did you say something?” They slowly turned back to stare at Winola, their singular charcoal-black eye swirling with an unknown emotion that drove fear straight through her heart.

“Please, don’t hurt her.”

Rory slammed the knife down again, the crunching of bones reverberating in Winola’s ears as Alzena shivered and let out a quiet groan. “If I don’t hurt her she’ll hurt everyone else.”

“Please,” Winola begged, the sight of Rory’s blood-splattered figure looming over Alzena’s smaller, shaking one filling her with a numbing powerlessness. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

It was as if Winola wasn’t even there - like she was invisible. Rory slammed the knife down again, chopping away without a care, completely ignoring her. They only paused to occasionally groan and rub at their temples before bringing the knife down on Alzena once again.

Winola was forced to watch as more blood splashed onto the cool gray of the table, Alzena’s already marred fingers massacred into short stumps. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. “No, please,” she pleaded, pure desperation dripping from her voice. “Don’t hurt her. Please, don’t hurt her.”

Despite all her pleas, Rory wouldn’t so much as turn to look at her. “Be quiet.” They snapped, the squelching sound of the knife slicing through Alzena’s finger sounding once again. Winola choked back a sob, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill over the surface. She found herself unable to speak, not when it could make it worse for Alzena. She was left lying there, useless.

One by one, the sound of bones crunching filled the room.

Although it wasn’t much more than a couple minutes, it felt like an eternity for Winola. Trapped in that cold, bare room, the sounds of the knife colliding with the table as it made its way through Alzena’s hand echoing through her mind. She could hear Alzena still trying to resist, her grunts of pain only growing deafening in her head, until the small moans escaping her friend’s lips were more like desperate screams. Her eyes pricked with tears she still couldn’t seem to choke back.

But finally, it came to a stop.

“All done.” Rory said, tidily bundling up the fingers and wrapping them up into a clean, white cloth. She moved towards a small fridge in the corner of the room, humming a gentle little tune as they made their way over and neatly stored the severed fingers away. It made Winola sick to her stomach.

Rory walked back towards Alzena, beginning to clean her up. She treated her fingers, making sure they were nice and neat, carefully wrapping them up with bandages.

It was a long, painful while, the minutes slowly passing by, the only sound being Rory’s soft humming as they cleaned up the table. But eventually, all their materials were properly cleaned up, Alzena’s hands now wrapped with clean white bandages already mottled by red.

Rory stared down at Alzena, her expression one of what could almost be described as gentle care. They softly placed their hands over her glazed-over eyes and closed them. “Goodnight Orla.” She murmured, pressing a kiss on her cheek.

She turned back to Winola. “Try to get some rest tonight. We have a mission tomorrow.”

Winola gave her the nastiest glare she could muster. Her entire body boiled with barely contained rage. All her life she’d felt small, felt insignificant. Everyone in her life had made sure she knew it. This whole situation was exact proof of it. Of how useless her stupid existence was.

But she was so tired.

So tired of watching others have power over her. So tired of losing everything she ever cared for. Tired of watching Alzena be played with like she was nothing more than a toy. Like she didn’t matter.

She just wanted it all to stop. She wished she could have gotten rid of Rory, wished she had the strength to stand up to her. Wished she was anywhere but here.

Rory simply gave her a small smile in return before flicking the lights off, the door gently clicking shut behind them.

The entire room was enveloped in a complete pitch black.

“I’m so sorry.” Winola said into the darkness, her voice coming out more hoarse and shaky than she had intended.

She wasn’t even sure if Alzena could hear her right now, if she was aware of what was going on. All she could hear was her ragged breathing; slow, heavy breaths filling the room in a way that sent chills down Winola’s spine.

Still, Winola forced herself to continue.

“I should’ve just given up that day, so you could’ve protected yourself instead of me. I’m so sorry, Alzena.” Winola wasn’t sure the last time she had ever spoken so emotionally with a person, when she had been so raw and vulnerable - or if she even ever had. “If we ever get back to the base and you don’t want anything to do with me, I’ll understand. But I just want you to know that I’ve really missed you and I’ve been training a lot to try to get you back.”

Alzena’s breathing stopped for a split-second before picking up again. This time, the sound of her short breaths was accompanied by small sniffles.

“I’m so sorry and I feel really guilty for putting you through all this.” Winola’s voice cracked. Hot tears streamed freely down her face now, no matter how hard she willed them to stop. “I love you and I miss you and I promise, I’m going to do whatever I can to get you out of here.”

She’d never told anyone that she loved them before. Yet the words didn’t feel hollow and empty like she thought they would. They were full of true, genuine sincerity; full of actual love. The truth was, there wasn’t a person that she cared for more, that she loved more. Alzena was her first friend, her best friend. Before she’d found a place in the Board Game Club, before she had Band, before everything, she had Alzena. It was always Alzena. There wasn’t anything Winola wouldn’t do to keep her safe.

And she was determined to do anything if it meant freeing her. No matter the cost.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, and I’m sorry if you’re sick of me. But I really do hope you know that if I ever have an opportunity to get you out of here, I’ll do whatever I can. Goodnight.”

The rest of the night passed in silence, the two of them lying there in the dark, but Winola found herself unable to sleep. All she could focus on was Alzena’s laboured breathing as she chokedly sobbed, only one thing present in her mind.

A promise.

I’ll get you away from her. I swear. I won’t let you suffer anymore.

[rosetyler42]

Here's something slightly WIR-Verse I did back around the time I first watched Dark Revival dealing with @lovelylivelyv 's Jack Nephalem. Being Bendy's chaotic good son, I imagine Jack'd be a Cycle Breaker in either universe...and that Wilson would see the boy as a threat. The Ink Nephalem would be the perfect successor for the Ink Demon should he be cast out, after all.

So here's an idea if Toddler Hijack was part of the game, locked away in the Pit as Subject 1031 and Jumpscaring Audrey.

(Since all the others had subject numbers relating to their birthday Month and day- Aside from Henry's 414 - Jack's subject number is 1031 for Oct 31.)

@lovelylivelyv @black-ak9 @serial-serializednovelreader @hotelt-resurrection @deathfangirl9 @heartsong1994 @wingingfromthezing @inkiedraws @inkhyaena @inkspottie @inkwelldevil @howling-nightmare @thedopedemon @thedemonsurfer @thedobermutt

[dont-be-gentle-please]

Kneeling. It can be forced, voluntary, a learned habit.

Kneeling at the master's feet, hoping to be kept safe from the guests.

Kneeling in the middle of the room, exposed and helpless to all sorts of weapons.

Kneeling in a corner, or against the wall, showing what a good pet they can be. How well they have been trained.

Kneeling in a tiny, empty room with a camera opposite of them. Is it for proof that they are alive or for someone to enjoy later?

Kneeling on the dirt, not knowing if this time it's another mock execution or the actual one.

[whump-me]

Obscure: Chapter 1

Chapter 1 of Obscure, novel-length interrogation whump about a rebel leader who can erase memories with a thought, an interrogator who can see inside his subjects’ minds… and the connection they share that neither of them suspects.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the completed novel on Patreon

---

Elias

Even deep under the orchard, the sterile filtered air of the bunker still held the faint sweetness of the coming apple harvest. Elias breathed in the scent of comfort, the scent of home. He needed that comfort.

Tonight, as on every other bunker night, he was walking a tightrope. Across the orchard, in the drafty, too-big farmhouse, Laina could wake up at any moment to find her husband out of bed in the middle of the night. And there was the other risk of discovery, the deadly risk, not from the woman he loved but from the enemy.

He had never fallen off that tightrope yet. He was under no illusions that it meant he was safe.

The bunker was a twenty-by-twenty space, as welcoming as he could make it. A cot in one corner, made up with a quilt handed down from Laina’s grandmother. Laina had never liked the quilt or the grandmother, so she hadn’t shed any tears when he had told her it was lost.

A bookshelf in another corner held a smattering of dog-eared bestsellers of yore, scavenged from yard sales and thrift stores. A mini-fringe, regularly restocked, held enough food for a week—assuming the guest rationed it carefully. That was the longest he had ever needed to keep anyone down here.

Behind him, the air filtration system let out a constant hiss. Across from him at the square vinyl table, the woman with the hood over her head drew in a ragged breath. Her hands trembled in her lap.

She was afraid. They were always afraid. Afraid of him, at first—the way he had to operate made that unavoidable. And afraid of the enemy. He wouldn’t try to talk her out of that latter fear. She needed it. It was one of the few things he would leave her when she left.

He pulled the hood off her head, slow and gentle. He folded it on the table next to him as he settled back into his seat. Then he rested his hands on the table so she could see that he had nothing to hide.

He schooled his face into a fatherly expression. Not a smile. She wouldn’t trust a smile, not after the way she had come here. The hood, the car ride to parts unknown, the assurances his associates would have given her that they were there to help—unconvincing with no accompanying explanation. An unavoidable problem.

He met her eyes, his face solemn but soft. He tried to look both unthreatening and utterly in control. Like someone who could be trusted. Like someone who could take care of everything. Most of all, like someone who had no reason to be afraid.

It had been a long time since he had been anyone’s father. But he remembered it had felt something like that.

Especially the lying. In truth, he had never been in control. He had always been afraid.

Her eyes belonged to a rabbit trapped in a hawk’s gaze. Her shaking didn’t stop. “This is a mistake.” Her trembling voice lacked conviction. It told him she knew it was no such thing. “I don’t know what you want from me.” Even less convincing.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he said. “You asked certain questions online. One of my people found you before someone worse could.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But even if she had been a decent liar, he would have noticed the way her eyes widened when he mentioned her online activity.

“The fact that you suspected those questions might have placed you in danger puts you ahead of most people,” said Elias. “Have you had an encounter with them before?”

She visibly weighed further unconvincing lies against her curiosity. Curiosity won out. She shook her head. “But that’s how it always goes in stories, isn’t it? When there are people like us, there’s always a them.”

He made a vaguely affirming noise and waited for her to ask what she wanted to ask.

It didn’t take long. “You said ‘one of your people,’” she said. “What does that mean? Who are ‘your people’? Who are you?”

“Soon,” said Elias. “But I’m going to need you to prove yourself first. Prove you’re one of us.” He shot her as an apologetic smile. “I’m sure you understand.”

It wasn’t a foolproof test. The line between us and them was even blurrier than the line between good and evil—he had more reason than most to know that. But in the absence of someone who could literally sniff out a lie like a bomb-detecting dog, it was what he had. And he hadn’t had someone like that since he had watched a loyal man bleed out in his arms years ago.

She tensed. If she did what he wanted, she was risking nearly as much as him. She had no way of knowing he wasn’t a liar, either. But she was also the one who had been abducted and brought to an underground bunker, and if the enemy wasn’t in here with her, then they were waiting for her aboveground.

So she chose to trust him. He saw it happen, saw the moment when her shoulders squared with resolve. He heard her let out a defiant breath, like she thought it might be her last.

She held one of her hands up over the table, palm facing the ceiling. She closed her eyes. A small, perfect ball of flame appeared, hovering half an inch above her skin.

“Is that enough?” she asked, her voice still shaking. She met his eyes in challenge, daring him to throw off the pretense of helping her.

He only nodded. She closed her hand around the flame with no sign of pain. The fire winked out.

“You’re Enhanced,” he said. “At least, that’s the most common term. There are others, but that’s the one they use, so it’s the one I use. You make fire. Some people read minds, or make objects move, or see into the future or to places they’ve never been. The number of potential abilities is as vast as the number of people on this planet. Those are some of the most common.”

“And you?” Her voice shook a little less now. “What can you do?”

“You have a special gene,” he said, instead of answering. “It’s been present in humanity since the dawn of history, at least as far as the current research can tell. But until sometime in the 1970s, it almost never became active. The gene requires environmental exposure to certain substances in order to activate. Pollutants in the air and water have turned people like us from the demigods of myth to something almost ordinary.”

In some rare places—if any of those places still existed—it truly was ordinary to have powers. The places where people like them came together to live among their own kind. As always when his thoughts found their way back to his childhood, he felt a pang deep in his gut.

And as always, he turned his thoughts away.

“If we’re so ordinary,” the woman said, “why haven’t I heard of anyone else who can do… this?” She opened her palm and stared down into her hand, as if searching for the remnants of the flame.

“Because it benefits us to keep ourselves a secret,” Elias said. “It benefits them, too—all the different thems out there. Governments and scientific facilities around the world know about us. Criminals, too. High-level corporate types. They all see ways to use us to gain an advantage, and the more secret they keep us, the more of an advantage they think they’ll get.”

“Because they’ll be the only ones who know about us that way?”

Elias shook his head. “They all know they aren’t the only ones. But if they were to do their business aboveboard, they’d have to follow rules. More paying salaries for the kinds of work we can do for them. Less locking people up in secret labs to breed the next generation of supersoldiers.”

A tremor ran through her, a lingering echo of her earlier shakes. He hadn’t realized until then that her shaking had stopped.

“We stay hidden so they can’t use us,” Elias said. “And the ones like you, who activate on their own and start asking questions before they figure out all the advantages to keeping their mouths shut… well, it usually doesn’t take long for someone to find them and shut them up. If they’re lucky, it’s me, or someone like me.”

“So you’re here to shut me up,” she said.

“I’m here to save your life.”

“Those men… they kidnapped me. They gave me something…” She stared down at the crook of her arm, at the small red needle mark.

A sedative. So that was how his people had stopped her from turning them into living torches. He had wondered.

“They did,” Elias agreed. “I apologize for that. But the work I do has to stay secret. If I or my people had reached out ahead of time, you might have told someone. A friend. Family.”

“My family will be looking for me anyway. They’ll go to the police, and the police will—”

“No, they won’t,” said Elias. “We’re good at what we do. We have decades of practice. Not to mention a lot of natural advantages.” He tapped the side of his head.

Another shiver ran through her, even though he didn’t mean he had an advantage over her. She could set him on fire right now if she wanted to.

“So what is it you do after you kidnap people?” She shot a glance around the small bunker. “How does this save my life?”

“I get people new identities, and I help them run. In a few days, there won’t be any way to connect you with the person who asked those questions.”

“There shouldn’t be any way to connect me now. I didn’t use my real name.”

“Nothing is ever truly anonymous,” he said gently. “If we found you, so could they.” Any number of theys. The woman had sent up a flare advertising herself as defenseless prey, and there was a world full of predators out there. But there was one they in particular that always came to mind first for Elias. Call it personal bias.

Call it experience.

“Then you’ve done this before?” Her glance around the bunker was slower this time. Maybe she was imagining all the people who had sat at this table, who had slept in that bed, under that quilt.

“Many times. My network is small, but I do what I can.” It wasn’t that small at this point, but he preferred people to believe that. Anyway, it felt small to him, even now. He didn’t compare it to what it used to be. He compared it to the size of the opposition.

“Your network?” She gave the first word a slight emphasis. It took him a moment to figure out she was asking whether he was in charge here. Maybe he didn’t look the part, with his grandpa glasses and his weather-lined hands.

He nodded. “Yes, I created this. I’ve been at this for more than a decade now. You’re in expert hands, I promise.”

He hoped she wouldn’t ask what had happened two decades ago. Some of them did. He was used to pushing the memories away when the questions came, and the grief along with them. But the taste always lingered later, a soft bitterness at the back of his throat.

“So you’re in charge here,” she said, asking the question straight out this time.

Usually they didn’t harp on that. Usually they found the acknowledgment reassuring and moved on. He frowned. “Yes, I am.” He paused. “Does that bother you?”

“It seems dangerous. The person in charge of the entire network, meeting with people like me personally.” Her sharp eyes studied him.

She was suspicious, but he didn’t know of what. If he did, he might have known how to ease that suspicion. “Because no one else can do quite what I can. I have a unique power that helps people like you stay hidden—and eases their minds, besides. I—”

Then he stopped, because those sharp eyes were still watching him, like she was waiting for something. Her fear was gone, along with her shaking. Now she held herself perfectly still, coiled tightly in tense anticipation.

He had seen a lot of fear over the past fifteen years. That wasn’t fear.

The sharpness in her eyes changed from waiting to wariness, and he knew she had seen the change in him.

He held her gaze and quested out for her mind. He sought her out on the thread of her fear. But that fear had never been real. She had never shown him anything except her power—and that was strength, not vulnerability. Her mind was closed to him.

She stood, unfurling her hands. Twin balls of flame came to life.

He dodged as the first shot toward him.

It hit the air vent behind him. The fire alarm gave a startled shriek.

The woman raised her wrist to her lips, and he saw too late that her watch wasn’t a watch. “Confirmation that Elias Kitzner is the leader and central point of contact for our unknown network.” Her voice was crisp and professional, without the slightest hint of a tremble. “Do you have my location?”

In other circumstances, he might have been impressed. It took skill to lie well. It took more skill to pretend to be a bad liar.

A tinny voice issued from the watch. “We are at your location. Standing by.”

He reached for her mind again, even though she was no longer looking at him. It was more difficult without direct eye contact, but not impossible. And although she had never given him anything real, he had made himself vulnerable in front of her. A one-way connection was sometimes enough.

But a compact ball of fire whizzed close enough to his ear to singe his hair—an intentional miss, he was sure—and his concentration evaporated.

And then the people on the other end of the watch poured down the ladder like an infestation of ants, human-sized ants in gleaming white hazmat suits with opaque face masks. There were too many of them to fit in the bunker, like a clown car in reverse.

Too many for him to ever fight off on his own.

He didn’t carry weapons. None except the one in his head. It was too great a temptation, he had always maintained. You can tell yourself all you like that violence is the last resort, but the easier you make violence for yourself, the sooner it will become your first resort.

He understood the temptation to use whatever weapons he carried. Only a childhood around parents and surrogate parents who understood powers had trained him early out of the temptation to use his natural weaponry to smooth his path through life at the expense of everyone he encountered.

He had never regretted his stance on weapons until now.

He was stronger than he looked. Laina liked to tease him about his professorial looks. There was no bite to her words; quite the opposite. She loved it. In reality, his skinny frame held hidden muscle from his work in the orchard. He hired help during the harvest season, mostly people who were in need of under-the-table work the way he had once been in need. But he preferred to do most of the work himself. Every person he let into his life represented another danger.

But strength didn’t make him a fighter. And the invaders had a taser that sent him sprawling to the concrete floor with a cry of pain, and a needle that sank into his arm before he had regained control of his body. His vision went blurry. His muscles turned to rubber.

“Target captured,” he heard the woman tell someone who wasn’t here. “En route to PERI headquarters.”

He knew the name. His mind, rapidly filling with static, found room for one final thought—a wordless burst of satisfaction. The enemy that had come for him was the enemy he had started this work to fight. Full circle. It was only right.

On the other side of the orchard, in a farmhouse Laina had always said was too big for two of them, Laina slept in peaceful ignorance. She wouldn’t know anything was wrong until the next morning, when she would oversleep because her husband’s never-quiet-enough morning routine hadn’t forced her to drag herself out of bed before dawn along with him.

When she called the police, they would feed her the reassuring words PERI had told them to say, and set the wheels in motion for the manufactured disappearance they had planned weeks ago. A burned-out husk of a car on the road between the farmhouse and the bar he visited on the rare occasions when he needed a few hours of oblivion badly enough to lie about his whereabouts. An equally burned-out husk of a body, identifiable only through dental records. The records would match.

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @suspicious-whumping-egg

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

[vidawhump]

Day 12: Caught

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

Brilla looked on as the net hoisted further up. She stood off to the side, not actively perpetrating anything, but not doing anything to stop it. It seemed like she was doing that more and more these days. A silent enabler. Before long, Nilalang's pitch-black eyes peeked over the ship's edge. The shipmates whooped and hollered in achievement at the sight of Nilalang. It almost seemed like it was about to cry. Its eyes looked tear-stained, despite living in the ocean its whole life. Though you could never really tell where it was looking, Nilalang kept its eyes tracked on Brilla. A silent cry for help. Brilla couldn't do anything except stare back amidst the celebration on the ship. Nilalang looked dejected at Brilla's lack of reaction, but it never stopped watching her. It curled up in the net, resigning to the fact that it'd been caught, and nothing could be done to change that.

[echoingalaxies]

1, 2, 3, 5, and 7 for Jacques and Salvador!

-- @whumperofworlds

Thank you for the asks!

How do you kidnap/capture your OC?

Jacques: He'll probably have to be sedated, because he'd kick, hit, scream, bite and scratch.

Sal: Sal has powers that are tied to an amulet, by which you can control him. If you possess the amulet, you can just command Sal to sleep and calmly take him to his cell.

2. Are they defiant? Scared? Stoic?

Jacques: Scared. Some defiance comes from fear and his natural instincts to protect himself.

Sal: Mostly stoic, just hopeless and depressed type of not giving a shit. Partly defiant.

3. What kind of torture methods would you use against them?

Jacques: Jacques isn't human and has wings, so they'll obviously have to come off. Also maybe trying to get rid of other non-human characteristics. Psychological torment also works well, telling him he's evil for being what he happens to be.

Sal: As you can control him, you can make him hurt and humiliate himself. Humiliation is worse for him. He is no stranger to pain, so it wouldn't bother him as much.

5. What do they do if you torture a loved one in front of them?

Jacques: Attack. Probably rip your throat open with his teeth.

Sal: Hmm, attack, but use some kind of weapon, like sword. If he was tied up or something, he'd cuss the Whumper out and spit threaths he has absolutely every intention to fulfill.

7. Do they have a team? If so, supposed they were caught too. Do they protect their team from any torture or no?

Jacques: Both of them have the same people around them, but I don't really know who I'd say are a part of their "team." Hypothetically, Jacques would protect everyone in every way he could. He wouldn't even have to decide to - in these kinds of situations he'd act impulsively and face the consequences later.

Sal: He would, just as much as Jacques, just in different ways. He'll think things through as well as he can. Maybe offer a bargain. Maybe offer to sacrifice himself instead. But if nothing works, he'll shrug and pick up his weapon.

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 16

Shapeshifter and Space Abomination are close friends due to what they have in common. Shapeshifter doesn't understand why when they are captured Space Abominations treatment is much much worse.

[whump-queen]

but my pain tolerance is so lowww

If you hurt me id scream and scream and someone would find me eventually

-🪨

You can’t take pain and yet you volunteered to be whumped?

That’s hilarious. Don’t worry, you’ll get better at it.

And you really think I haven’t soundproofed my basement… Who do you think I am?

But by all means, scream extra loud for me if you still want to test it out.

[whump-galaxy]

The traitor is double crossed, thrown in the same cell as the team they turned in. Their captors, and the traitor themselves, expect the team to tear them to pieces.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

thinking about a whumpee on a forced march through rough terrain

hands tied in front of them, on foot while their captors are mounted, sleeping out in the open, forced to beg for adequate food and water

maybe they're barefoot, a captured royal in silken robes

maybe they're in a torn suit or soldier's uniform

maybe they were stripped at the start, increasing the exposure to the elements, the humiliation

are they a terrified mess from the beginning, or do they try to endure with dignity? how long before they're stumbling, barely putting one foot in front of the other? how long before they fall?

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee can barely feel their legs. They can't run, but they can drag themselves inch by inch.

Whumper lets them and watches.

Just curious to see where they think they're going.

[dioles-writes]

• OC FICLET •

Masterlist | Characters: Felix (he/him), Akali (he/him), Ilona (she/her), Maddox (he/him), Wilder (he/him), Winola (she/her), Rory (they/she), Hiraya (she/her), Kuali’i (he/him)

Characters in purple belong to @jiphenn and Winola belongs to @sleepsloooop

As soon as they stepped foot in the clearing bullets rang out from every direction.

Felix. BAM. Akali. BAM. Ilona. BAM. Maddox. BAM. One by one, they were all picked off.

Now only Winola and Wilder stood unharmed.

Thinking fast, Winola rose both her arms in one quick motion, and the dirt shot up around them, hardening into a protective shield. As everyone fell to the ground and began to quickly tend to their injuries, she glanced around, creating a peephole and peering through.

She found herself staring at the one person she didn’t want to see.

Rory.

“Yoohoo!! Guess who it is!” There was a knock on the shield as more bullets hammered against it, slowly weakening it bit by bit. Fortunately, Winola still managed to hold strong against it, skillfully blocking the gunfire.

“You guys are no fun.” Rory huffed. “Hiraya, break down the shield pretty please.”

The shield started to crumble as a large chunk of it was repeatedly hit, the gunfire ringing out louder than ever. “Come on guys, don’t make me shoot Winola too.”

A bullet ripped through Winola’s right leg.

The entire shield shattered, dirt raining down in clumps as all six of them took off running. Winola sprinted ahead, pain spiking through her leg for every step that she took. “Wait up guys!” Rory frolicked behind them, completely at ease.

A splash of liquid sprayed in front of them, and suddenly there was nowhere left for them to run. Where the ground previously had been now was a large, gaping chasm, bubbling as poison corroded it away.

Rory and Hiraya crept even closer.

Winola’s mind raced. There was nowhere left for them to go.

They were completely stuck; it would still be minutes before their powers came back, precious minutes that they didn’t have time to wait, and still then they were already weakened by their injuries. They were lucky Hiraya’s shots hadn’t been lethal - she could easily take out all six of them in a heartbeat. As soon as her and Rory grew bored of watching them desperately scramble away, they’d be sure to finish each of them off.

“Hey guys let’s talk!” Rory called out.

Winola noticed she looked different than before: Covering her left eye was now a black eyepatch with a white flower design in the middle of it. “You like my eyepatch?” She grinned.

“FELIX GET BACK HERE!” Akali screamed, turning around to stare at his friend with an incredulous look. Winola glanced back, momentarily pulled from her thoughts, only to see dumbass Felix charging straight towards Rank 3 at full speed.

“I got this after our last battle Akali!” Rory ignored Felix, her gaze still focused directly on Akali, her one charcoal-black eye watching his every move. Akali didn’t pay her any mind, taking off to go fetch Felix from death.

“You hurt my eye pretty badly, I couldn’t see out of it anymore.” Rory continued calmly, stepping backwards a little.

“Half of us can’t make this jump.” Wilder said, turning away from Rory to stare down at the rift - and then at Winola and Maddox.

“I can throw you over.” Ilona offered, making her way over to him. “We just have to stall until the bullet effects wear off.” She picked him up, effortlessly tossing him over the rift.

“Guys wait, before you go I wanna show you something!” Rory shouted from across the clearing, making sure to be extra loud so that even Wilder could hear.

She took a wide step back and tossed something up high into the air.

Instinctively, Winola’s eyes locked on it.

An eyeball.

Everything went blank.

But almost just as fast as it had happened, everything started to come back into hazy focus. She could see Rory and Hiraya charging towards Felix and Akali, could feel as Ilona lifted her up and chucked her over the rift. Yet despite being aware of her surroundings, her mind was fuzzy, her body numb and heavy.

Like she wasn’t in control of it.

Ilona began to lead them all away, sprinting as fast as she could manage with a gun wound to her side, yet Winola’s body would not oblige. She slowly turned around, walking back towards Rory instead of following the others like she so desperately wanted to. “Aww, I was going for someone else. You’re still a good pick though!” Rory smiled at her, waiting patiently on the other side of the rift.

Winola couldn’t decide who she hated more.

Rory -

Or herself.

Akali glanced back to see Winola making her way ever closer to Rory. He quickly tossed Felix over to rift, sprinting back to her rescue.

Winola had barely even heard the distant bang of the gun before a sharp pain lit up her side. Vines sprung up from the ground, fast as lightning. They shot towards Akali, twisting and weaving through the air as they started to wrap around his neck.

Akali gasped for air, his hands desperately clawing at the plants, but they only squeezed tighter at his resistance.

Winola could only watch as Akali choked, internally screaming in frustration as her hands moved against her will, causing the vines to start to lift Akali up into the air. No matter how hard she resisted the mind control, fighting desperately to let Akali go and lash out at Rory instead, she just simply couldn’t stop.

Akali began to fight back, not wanting to hurt or murder Winola, but not wanting himself to get choked out either. His power had begun to come back, bit by bit, and using a shadow clone, he sliced the vines away before throwing Winola off of himself.

But still, he was being choked to death.

Wilder huffed out a small breath of air before begrudgingly running to help him, since he was the only one whose powers still worked. He charred the plants off of Akali’s throat, freeing him from Winola’s grasp.

Suddenly Winola felt herself turn away from the two. Her body drifted closer to the rift, walking to the very edge. Someone scooped her up into their arms, effortlessly crossing it and landing beside Rory.

Kuali’i set her down and Rory grinned. “Good job today guys! You all did so well.” She said, affectionately patting each of their heads. They softly ruffled Winola’s hair, smiling down at her. “You did great too Winola! You’ll be an amazing fighter in no time!”

Winola boiled with anger, straining to shrink away from Rory’s touch, but still, her body wouldn’t budge.

Hiraya whipped out her phone and dialled up a number. “Hey Haven, we’re all done here.”

“Now you can join us in our room!!” Rory jumped in joy. “Hey, let’s get ice cream too! We can invite January.”

A door materialized in front of them, and Hiraya opened it, holding it out for the others. “Let’s go.”

One by one, they all walked through, leaving behind the blood stained clearing and heading into Paradise.

[boneywhump]

pov: your future husband comes to your rescue

[oliversrarebooks]

listen to my Voice, hero

TW: mind control, hypnotic induction, intimate whumper, restraints, corruption

Are your bonds comfortable, Hero? I wouldn't want to cause any damage to your precious muscles and nerves. You are the city's shining hope, after all. Or at least, you have been until now.

Good, now we can have a proper chat. You can just listen carefully to everything I have to say. 

Oh, don't glare at me like that. How many times have we clashed now? And every time you manage to resist my lovely compelling Voice just enough to stop my plans, just enough so that I must escape by the skin of my teeth. You must have known it might come to this eventually, a time when my compulsions are too strong for you to fight, a time when my Voice finally brings you to your knees.

I've been training, dear hero, training especially for you. Training for you, because you're really the only one in this city worth controlling. You're better than all of them. We both know that. And I know how you feel about me, because I've seen the look in your eyes when my compulsions take hold of your pretty little mind.

No, no, be quiet. Be quiet.That's it, there you are. Oh, the delicious expression on your face when I use my Voice on you. I'll never get enough of it.

Most heroes look terrified, you know, to have their thoughts pulled out from under them, to find their body out of their control. Terrified, angry, defiant -- that's how the other heroes look. But you're different. In that moment when I weave my spell on you, when you feel your mind go hazy and your body stop obeying your commands, I see something else in your eyes. I see relief. Deep, unmistakable relief.

No, don't try to deny it. I've tangled with you too many times to be wrong about this. You're relieved when I compel you. You'd never admit it, not even to yourself, but you long for the way it feels. You long to have your choices taken away. You long to not have to make decisions. You long to not have to fight any more.

But every time, you fight. Every time, you break free of my Voice. And I can see the toll it takes on you. That's why I've been training so hard, Hero. So that you couldn't resist my Voice, wouldn't be able to break free. So that I could give you what you want more than anything. 

I've seen you, Hero. I've seen you at your best and at your lowest, haven't I? I understand you better than anyone else in the city. You know it's true. And I can see how exhausted you are. How you've been worked to the bone. How you never get to rest, never get a vacation. I even tried cutting back on my evil schemes in the hopes that you'd take a break, but all you did was pursue other villains twice as hard. 

There are deep bags under your eyes, Hero, marring your beautiful face. There's resignation in your tone that was never there before. I can't stand it, can't stand the way the city treats you. You're destroying yourself to save this ungrateful, useless population and all they do is criticize you. It makes me sick.

And I know what you do once you've defeated me and I escape back to my lair. I know you return to your cold, empty apartment, and curl up on the couch with some convenience food, trying to relax. I know how you toss and turn at night, wondering if you're doing the right thing. I know how lonely you are, Hero. I'm lonely too, you know.

I wish you could see how glassy and dazed your eyes are right now. It's beautiful. Listening to my Voice is so nice, isn't it? Yes, that's it, just relax.

Oh, your hair is so soft. I bet you haven't had a tender touch like this in a while. I saw you lean into it before you caught yourself. Let me run my hand through your hair, there's a good, relaxed hero. Is that a sleepy little smile I see? You like that, don't you?

In fact, you like all of this, don't you? You like having no choice but to relax and listen as my compelling Voice weaves a spell around you. You like the feeling as I slowly hypnotize your vulnerable mind, how your resistance slips away little by little. You've thought about this on those lonely nights, haven't you? What it would feel like if I won. What it would feel like to succumb to my hypnotic compulsions. What it would feel like if you stopped fighting and let me take charge of your mind completely.

Oh, don't struggle. Don't struggle. Relax.There it is again, that relief. My Voice feels good, doesn't it? It feels so good to have the fight taken out of you. Don't deny it, it's written all over your face.

You don't need to pretend you haven't thought about it. You somehow manage to always be the first hero on the scene whenever I try anything. Almost as if you're willing to drop anything to see me, isn't it?

But you were scared. I'm a villain, after all. I don't deny it. You must think I might hurt or humiliate you. Well, you can put all of your fears to rest, because I have no intention of that. I respect you far too much. I'm going to take good care of you, Hero. I'm going to give you the treatment you deserve. I'm going to help you relax. I'm going to take all your worries away.  It's going to feel amazing, Hero, I promise.

I'm sorry, were you trying to say something just now? Still trying to fight it? You'll have to speak up, it's too hard to hear you when you're so out of it.

"It's wrong"? Is that what you said, Hero?

No, what's wrong is how little reward you get for everything you do. That's why I had to do this, had to train my Voice to be strong enough to be irresistible even to you. Now I can reward you. I can give you everything you want, everything you need, beginning with the beautiful, relaxing oblivion of total and complete obedience.

You'll get other rewards, too, of course you will. Together we'll share in the riches of the city, bend everyone in power to our wills. It's what we both deserve. But this is your first and most important reward -- obedience. Nothing is more calm, relaxing, and peaceful than knowing you have no choice, than having every decision made for you.

And all you have to do is listen. 

I'm too strong for you now, Hero, my Voice too compelling. You're almost entirely under my spell, aren't you? I can see how drowsy you are, how my compulsions are putting your conscious mind to sleep.

Yes, that's it. You're too exhausted, Hero. Too tired. Too many nights with too little sleep. You need to rest. You need to stop fighting. You need to surrender.

No one will think any less of you. They'll see how powerful I've become, how easily I can command even the strongest and smartest. They'll realize you had no choice, that it was out of your hands. You won't need to feel guilt or shame. Everyone will know this wasn't your fault, that there was nothing you could do to prevent yourself falling under my villainous control. 

And the fact that you actually enjoy this, the fact that you long to give in so badly and fall under my hypnotic trance? That can be our little secret, Hero.

There we go. That's it, just a little more. Look into my eyes. Look nice and deep into my eyes while I stroke your hair and talk you down softly. Just like you've always dreamed of. No more fear, no more pain. Only sweet restful sleep and deep hypnotic trance. 

That's it, Hero. It's too late. You're too tired, too drowsy, too captured in my Voice to fight it. There's nothing to do. Nothing you have to do. Just feel yourself growing oh so dazed and sleepy as I weave my Voice around you. So comforting. So right. Exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you needed. Exactly where you belong. 

Tell me, Hero, tell me you want this.

That's it, that's it! Oh, how I've longed to hear those words from you. Tell me how my Voice makes you feel. Be honest.

Oh. Oh, my. That's... that's even better than I expected. Far, far better. You love my Voice that much? Oh, Hero, dear Hero, why didn't you say so before? You could have had this any time. I would have been more than happy to bring you to my lair and give you the hypnosis you deserve. You could have been listening to my Voice all day.

Well, it doesn't matter now, because now you can have my Voice all you want, stronger than it's ever been. Isn't that nice? Oh, look at you bob your drowsy head. I don't even need to compel agreement out of you. You're so deeply hypnotized, aren't you? Good, good. Good hero. 

My hero.

Now, why don't you go all the way under? Just keep listening and let your eyelids grow oh so heavy. Let those heavy eyes close. Don't open them again. That's a good hero. So obedient and docile. You're so, so beautiful to me, my drowsy, docile hero. 

Yes, docile. That's what you are, deep down inside. All your strength, all your determination to do the right thing, all of that is a mask that conceals who you really are. A docile and obedient little lamb. And no one needs to know that but me. I'll fulfill your deep craving to be hypnotized and controlled, and you can still be every bit as strong and determined when you're working under my orders. Doesn't that sound just perfect for you? 

All the way under, now, deep into hypnotic trance. Let your resistance fade, my hero. Let your mind fog. Let your mental defenses fall.

Surrender. Surrender and submit. Submit to me, just like you've always wanted.

You can finally feel that relief. You can finally take that rest. Because I have you now. You're mine. I'm in complete control now, my docile little hero. 

And I order you to feel nothing but bliss.

Masterlist

If you like this, you may like "the defiant princess" for more gentle, slow induction on a resisting subject.