#paralytic drugs

[whump-collector]

Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark in Iron Man

For whumptober2022 No. 16 Paralytic Drugs

No paralytic drugs, but a paralytic machine. I hope that counts too.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whumptober #16: No Way Out

Option: Paralytic Drugs

A paralytic drug with a side-effect of the whumpee feeling as though their blood is on fire. They cannot scream, and they cannot move. Everyday is agony. 

[whumpty-dumpty]

Whumptober2022 | no.16 | No. 16 NO WAY OUT

[linecrosser]

Whumptober2022 - No.16 - Paralytic Drugs

when you accidentally touch something in the workshop that should not be touched

[onceuponastory]

hidden darkness - steve kemp

Plot: After witnessing some strange events, Y/N becomes convinced her fellow medical student Steve Kemp is hiding something. She’s about to learn just how right she was. Warnings: This is another dark fic, so 18+ please! Mentions of death, murder, cannibalism, blood, injections, body parts/organs, stalking, gaslighting, drugging and paralytic drugs. Basically everything Steve does to people in Fresh is a warning. And of course, Steve Kemp, because that man is a warning all on his own. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know.  Notes: This was written for @whumptober Day 16: No Way Out/Paralytic drugs, and I also combined it with Day 23: At the End of Their Rope/Tied to a Table.

Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

Sitting outside the Dean’s office, Y/N awkwardly fiddles with the hem of her shirt as she bites her lip nervously, gnawing at the skin. The receptionist watches her curiously, peering over at her over the rim of her glasses. Her gaze does little to calm Y/N’s nerves, and her stomach continues to churn. Maybe she should just go now. If she runs, nobody will even know she was here. Suddenly, the door opens and Y/N curses. Too late to run now. “Miss Y/L/N?” She nods, standing up.

“Yes, that’s me, sir.”

“Come in and take a seat.” She does as she asks, shrinking into the giant leather seat in front of the desk. The Dean looks over at her, staring at her just the same way as the receptionist did. Already, Y/N knows she doesn’t believe her. “I understand you’re making a complaint against a fellow student in your medical classes, Mr Steve Kemp. Is that correct?” 

“It’s not a complaint, exactly. I just think things have been going on, weird things. And I wanted to talk to someone about it.” Y/N stammers, immediately feeling even worse, and even more embarrassed. Maybe she should have run.

“Care to explain?”

“Well, there have just been some strange occurrences recently…things that don’t add up.” She trails off, casting her mind back.

At first, Steve was like any other tired medical student in her class. Perfectly normal. Yet, things soon started to seem off. The first time Y/N realised that there could be something wrong was when they practised drawing blood from each other. For almost the entire class, it was their first time doing this, so they were unsure and clumsy. She still has the bruises from her partner’s attempt. However, Steve was a natural, finding the vein right away. Almost like he’d done it before. And as he took the blood, the deep crimson filling the syringe, a strange look took over Steve’s face. It looked like one of hunger. For a second, she thought she even saw him biting his lip. Slightly unnerved, Y/N frowned, looking closer. But in the blink of an eye, the strange look was gone. So, Y/N convinced herself she was seeing things. 

However, the strange events kept occurring. More odd looks, excitement when there shouldn’t be. As things continued, Y/N started to think there was something more serious going on, something dark hidden behind Steve’s smile. However, things always stopped just before she could look deeper. Until one day, things came to a head, and Y/N and Steve were partnered together for dissections. Steve had elected to be the one to cut into the chest, which originally Y/N was thankful for, as it meant that she could take a moment to brace herself before being confronted with the sight of the inside of a dead body. Steve, however, was more than happy to do so, adding to Y/N’s unease around him.

“There we go.” Steve had murmured once the chest was open. “Wow.” He gasped, staring down at the organs inside.

“I know, right? It’s really something, isn’t it?” She had chuckled with a nod, expecting him to agree. To her surprise, though, he was instead staring at the heart. He also began running his gloved fingers over the tissue, a strange grin on his face the whole time. “Um Steve? I think the Professor said we’re actually supposed to be looking at-”

“It’s incredible, isn’t it? Holding and touching something that provides human life. Really makes you think how easy it is to take it all away, doesn’t it?” He murmured, the grin growing even bigger. Immediately, Y/N’s blood ran cold.

“What?” she gasped, but Steve said nothing. He just kept staring at the heart, that strange, hungry look on his face back once more. Almost as if he was thinking about it himself. Even when the professor began the lecture, she could see Steve grinning out of the corner of her eyes, and it chilled her to the bone. Since then, that look has haunted her. She tried to justify it, telling herself that she was just imagining things once again, that she needed some sleep. But each time, she remembered just how uncomfortable she felt, and how concerned she was that it might be masking something more. And so, here she is. 

The Dean peers at her incredulously, frowning. Before he even says anything, Y/N knows he doesn’t believe her. “I see. Are you sure these events happened? These are serious claims.”

“I know. But I saw them happen.” Y/N mumbles, staring down at the floor. She knows she’s doing the right thing…so why does she feel so bad about it? “Well, Miss Y/L/N, we will take your concerns into account and conduct an investigation.” Y/N’s eyes widen, and she sits up straighter.

“An anonymous one, right?” She asks. “Like, Steve won’t know it was me?” If her worries are true, god knows what he’d do to her now she knows. The Dean nods, and she breathes a shaky sigh of relief. At least that’s a bonus. Hopefully, something good comes of this. 

However, in the weeks after her complaint, nothing happens. Steve is still on the course, and there hasn’t been a follow up between Y/N and the Dean. Nobody believes her, just as she thought. As the weeks turn into months with no further word, Y/N even starts to wonder if she was seeing things after all, and if she was just blowing things out of proportion. That thought is practically confirmed by Steve’s change in behaviour as the years go on. He seems less…off, and more mature and focused. And in the few times they interacted since, he’s been nothing but kind to her. So soon, Y/N’s worries and unease slowly disappear. After all, the Dean investigated him, and they didn’t find anything. And besides, being interested in the human body is part of being a doctor. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything untoward. 

Maybe, after all this, it was just first term jitters making Steve act weird. Maybe, thankfully, she was wrong after all. 

After the pair graduate and they and their classmates go their separate ways, Y/N becomes focused on her own career. Sure, she kept an eye out, just in case. Every day for years, she scoured news channels and websites, looking to see if there was any information out there about Steve, or if she could connect any unexplained deaths or disappearances to him. But she found nothing. As the years went by without so much as a peep, Y/N realised that she probably was wrong about Steve after all. And gradually, all thoughts of her strange classmate fade away. Until one day, when Y/N is sitting in a coffee shop and hears:

“Oh my god, Y/N? Is that you?” Y/N looks up and immediately finds herself staring into the blue eyes of Steve Kemp. She gulps. Well, there’s someone she wasn’t expecting to see again. Especially given their…history.

“Steve! H-Hey! How are you?” She asks, trying not to appear too scared and awkward. Almost immediately, he pulls her into a hug, and she gasps as he wraps her arms round her.  

“I’m great! It’s so nice to see you again!” He grins as he pulls away from her. She looks over his face, feeling herself blushing slightly. Man, he may be a bit of a weirdo, but he is pretty cute. “It’s been what, almost ten years now?”

“Yeah, I think so!” 

“I can’t stick around, but do you want to grab a drink or something later this week? We’re due a catch up.” He offers. 

“Um….” She trails off, debating whether to go in her mind. It’s been all this time with no news. And he seems nice enough, even after everything. Besides, what harm could one drink do? So, Y/N nods. “Sure.” Steve grins.

“Perfect.”

A few nights later, Y/N and Steve sit in a bar together. The room is quiet, filled mostly by the voices and laughter of Steve and Y/N. Even though they’ve only been together for a few hours, Y/N already feels more at ease. That may be because of the alcohol constantly flowing throughout her blood, but she knows it’s more because of how charming and funny Steve is. Y/N keeps finding herself looking over at him with a giddy smile on her face and a warm feeling in her stomach. All her previous thoughts and worries are gone. Steve notices her smile, chuckling lightly.

“What?”

“Nothing. So, what are you doing now?” Y/N asks, taking another drink. It tastes bitter, but she swallows it anyway. They probably just didn’t mix it properly.

“I’m going to be a plastic surgeon…well, hopefully I am.” 

“Really? That’s great!” She smiles. “I hope it works out for you.”

“Yeah.” Steve smirks, looking her up and down slightly. “Okay, enough about me. Tell me something about you.”

“I’ve just been working at a hospital to pay the bills. Hopefully, I’m able to actually start studying for my specialisation soon.” As she finishes her sentence, Y/N feels the familiar drunken haze kicking in. And this time, it’s hitting her hard. God, she really needs to chill out with the alcohol.

“That’s great! What are you specialising in?” Y/N opens her mouth, but seems to be losing the ability to think coherently. “Y/N?” Steve asks. Y/N tries to reply, but still no words come out. However, although a part of her is panicking about how rapidly she seems to deteriorate, she mostly just feels tired. “It’s okay Y/N.” She registers Steve’s voice. “I’ll take care of you.”

And that’s the last thing she hears.

When Y/N wakes up, her head is pounding, and the room feels like it’s spinning. That’s definitely the last time she drinks so much. Soft music plays in the background, some song from the eighties. She tries to sit up, but the rest of her body won’t move. Glancing down, as her eyes focus, Y/N realises she’s strapped to something, ropes binding her wrists. At first, she simply blinks, expecting that she’ll soon wake up and be back in her own bed after whatever strange nightmare this is. But it doesn’t work. Although she’s still weak, Y/N wriggles her wrists, foolishly hoping the ropes will fall off with a bit of pressure. When nothing happens, panic courses throughout her entire body. How the hell is she going to get out of here? As her eyes try to adjust to the light and to this unfamiliar sensation, Y/N registers a figure at the end of the table. 

“Steve? What happened? What’s going on?” She murmurs, her words coming out slurred. The sound of her voice makes Steve jump slightly, and he turns to face her. It’s only then that Y/N realises he’s wearing scrubs. Bloodstained scrubs. 

“Well, look who’s awake.” He grins. “In all honesty, I’m surprised you are awake. After all, I gave you a lot of sedatives.” He holds up a syringe, and Y/N’s blood chills.

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Oh please, don’t pretend like you don’t know.” When she doesn’t reply, Steve sighs. “Remember when we were in medical school together? And you were so convinced I was hiding some kind of dark secret, just because I was a little too interested in death and organs?” Although her memory is still hazy, sporadic memories flash through her mind. Ones of Steve, staring transfixed at the dissected dead body, or when he was holding a human heart and made a comment about how thrilling it is to hold the life of someone else in your hands…and how easily you can take it all away. The look on his face, the sick grin that haunted her for years afterward, the one she thought she just imagined, stares down at her now. “Oh yeah, I know it was you. The Dean wasn’t exactly subtle about it.”

“Steve….” Y/N mumbles.

“Well, you were right after all. Ever since I was young, I’ve had a deep, depraved hunger. One I could never act upon. The taste of human flesh.” As he stares at her exposed body, biting his lip, the realisation of why she’s here slowly dawns on Y/N. “That’s why I joined medical school, actually. All those blood and body parts, just ripe for the taking…and the tasting.” As Steve laughs, Y/N limply shakes her wrists and ankles even more, trying to break free before she becomes a victim. Oh god, why didn’t she listen to herself? Why did she go with him? “Stop moving.” Steve snaps, his voice suddenly harsher and more terrifying. When Y/N doesn’t stop, Steve huffs. “I said, stop moving. Or else I’ll be forced to make you stop.” When she continues, a strike hits her cheek, and she yelps in pain. “God, I’ve always wanted to do that.” Steve grins, holding up another, fuller syringe. 

“No!” Y/N gasps, her body squirming as she tries to move out of the way. But she’s not fast enough, and Steve jabs her harshly in the arm with the syringe, injecting her with whatever drug is inside. When she tries to move again, she can barely move. Even moving the slightest inch is a challenge. Even more terrified, she looks back at Steve, who laughs again.

“That’s better.” Almost immediately, Y/N feels herself becoming docile again. “Now, where was I? Oh yes. My future medical career was going so well, actually. Until you came along, ready to spoil it all.” He glares down at her, and fear strikes her body once more. “But as you know, I can be very persuasive, and he didn’t sense that anything was wrong. So, I stayed on the course, and things went back to normal. I was free to carry out my desires undetected, even when I started my job. I never forgot you though. The girl who almost destroyed everything. And I knew what I had to do.” He chuckles. “I kept my eye on you constantly, even when we graduated, waiting for the right moment to strike. I had to make sure you wouldn’t be a problem again. Even though you stopped looking and asking questions, I couldn’t take that risk. And well, here we are.” He grins.

“There is one part I just don’t understand, though. You accuse me of being a future murderer…and yet you go for a drink with me. Wasn’t the smartest idea, was it?” He smirks. “That doesn’t matter now, though. You’re going to be someone very useful to me, Y/N.” He runs his gloved finger down her face. Y/N tries to use the last of her strength to turn away from him, but to her horror, she can’t. He stares down at her, watching as her eyes warily dart around the room, looking for a way out. Seeing the confusion and fear on her face, Steve laughs. “Oh, don’t worry about that. You won’t be able to move. That was a paralytic drug, so you won’t be causing me any more trouble for the time being. It’s my favourite one, actually. It’s as if the person is trapped in their own body, only able to move their eyes…and your ones are just beautiful.” He grins. Willing every part of her, Y/N tries to move her body, even slightly. But nothing happens. She tries to cry, to scream out, but even that doesn’t work. Only one thought is in Y/N’s mind.

“Oh god. I’m going to die.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t kill you. Right away, at least. Y/N, did you know that there’s an entire group of people like me out there? They’ll buy everything. Hair, breast meat, and so on. It’s a huge business, actually.” Steve trails off, staring down at her. “So that’s why I’ve decided that working with dead people just isn’t worth it anymore.” He moves over to a little dish beside the table, picking up a scalpel. Y/N’s heart almost stops. “It’s about time I start with live ones. And that’s where you come in Y/N. What a perfect way to start my business: with the one who almost destroyed it all as my guinea pig, my perfect first.” Without another word, he slices a small gash down her cheek, blood flowing out. Steve’s eyes widen hungrily, and he grins sickly. “So. Let’s begin.”

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[robinrites]

Day 16: Scarecrow

Happy Day 16 of Whumptober!

Day 16 Prompts: No Way Out, Mind Control, Paralytic Drugs, No One’s Coming

TW: Non-consensual drug use and sensory deprivation

Word Count: 2717

Summary: Jason Todd has been helping Jonathan Crane slowly take over Gotham as Red Hood. What happens when he finally comes to his senses and wants to go back to being one of the good guys?

“So you’re not mad?” Jason asked as he picked up a new inhaler off the table in front of him. 

“Me? Mad? What would I be mad about dear boy?” Jonathan Crane replied as he eyed the inhaler in Jason’s hand with bated breath. “That you went behind my back and started distributing before I- before we were ready?” He laughs, shaking his head, “No, no I think it was a good thing that you did it.” 

Jason nods, then takes a puff from the inhaler. When the effects don’t instantly kick in, he raises an eyebrow and takes a second hit. Dizziness takes over as he begins to feel weak on his feet. “What-what was in that inhaler?” He stumbles forward, only to be caught in Crane’s arms

“Tt, oh my dear boy, this is what happens when you don’t follow orders.” Jason’s head drops, his eyelids grow heavier and heavier until he finds himself fast asleep. 

Jason wakes up, hours later, only semi-aware of what is happening currently. His half-open eyes stare at his wrists, which he notices are bound to the arms of the chair he’s in with duct tape. He forces himself to look up, using all the strength he thinks himself capable of at the moment, to see Crane working at the table in front of him. He turns, as if some second sense told him Jason was awake, and smiles. Crane kneels in front of Jason and holds his chin up, something Jason is grateful for as he doesn’t think he could keep holding it up for much longer. 

“Wh-whadyou give me?” He mummers, fighting to stay conscious. 

“Just a little something to remind you who’s in charge here.” Crane lets go of Jason’s chin, then stands up to grab something off the table. A needle catches Jason’s eye as Crane kneels in front of him again, rolling up his sleeve. 

“What’s in that?” Panic lines his voice as he tries to pull his arm away, despite it feeling like it’s lined with lead. 

“That is for me to know.” Crane plunges the needle into Jason’s upper arm and when he pulls it out, he ignores the blood pooling at the injection site. A blank look takes over Jason’s face as what Crane injected starts to kick in. His first test run of a mind control serum, and who better to test it on then someone who won’t be missed? “Jason?” 

Jason looks at Crane blankly, “Yes sir?” 

“Good.” Crane smiles and cuts away the tape from around Jason’s wrists. “Now, if my math is correct- which it is- the serum should wear off in about two hours, which gives us plenty of time to test it. I want you to-” An explosion sounds off from across the warehouse, which makes Crane jump. He runs over to the window to see all the Titans march in, before he darts back to Jason. “Change in plans, distract the Titans while I get out of here, then meet me at the Water Treatment Facility, got it?” 

Jason nods, then stands up and heads towards the door, grabbing his guns on the way. Jonathan allows himself to watch the first few minutes of the fight as his mindless soldier works his way through the Titans with more efficacy than usual. Has he been holding back? He can’t help but wonder as he watches him work. A second explosion reminds him that he should be running instead of watching from the sides, so he quickly sets about grabbing all the important documents he thinks he’ll need, then runs out the back door. 

When Jason comes to hours later, the first thing he notices is the blood on his hands. His knuckles are bruised and bloodied, but some part of him suspects most of the blood isn’t his. He then notices his wrists are bound to a chair again. Jason looks around and realizes this isn’t the same warehouse he and Crane were in before. Speak of the devil, where is he- A laugh echoes from across the warehouse as Crane steps into the light. 

“Oh that went wonderfully!” He claps as he gets closer to Jason. “Wouldn’t you say so?” 

“What did you do?” Jason furrows his brows, pulling on his bindings as he does so. 

Jonathan laughs again, “I didn’t do anything, the question you should be asking is, ‘what did Jason Todd do?’” Jason tries to remember anything from the past few hours, but all that is in his head is a blank slate. Nothingness. “Oh! I wish I had it on camera for you! The way you worked through those Titans, I mean wow! Are you sure you weren’t a trained killer in a past life?” Panic flashes across Jason’s face, prompting Crane to laugh again. “Tt, you didn’t kill anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. But you did get some fantastic hits in.” 

Crane turns to the worktable behind him, fidgeting with something Jason can’t see. Then he walks around behind Jason and wheels a stand next to him. His heart drops when he realizes what it is, an IV pole. Crane rushes back to the first table and grabs a bag full of a weird, off-color liquid. 

“What’s in that?” Jason’s heart picks up as Crane begins to set up the stand beside Jason. 

Crane hangs the bag up and attaches a tube to the bottom before he turns to look at Jason again. “Good boys get to go out and fight crime and be the savior of Gotham. You tried to pull the rug out from underneath me and start distributing our products early. I can’t have that.” Crane grabs another rolling tray, with various medical devices on top. “And you’ve been holding out on me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-” 

“Uh uh uh.” Crane puts a finger in front of Jason’s mouth, cutting him off. “I saw the way you fought in the warehouse. You’ve been pulling your punches haven’t you?” Jason’s head drops as he internally curses himself. “See, all it took was a little mind control serum and I could tell. Gotham could’ve been ours by now Jason!” Jason flinches, and despite his best efforts he can’t get himself to stop shaking. 

“Why would I pull my punches? Fuck the Titans-” 

Crane slaps him across the face. “DON’T LIE TO ME!” He shouts, getting up in Jason’s face. He leans back and takes a deep breath, smoothing down his shirt. “Sorry. I got carried away. But, regardless of what you have or haven’t been doing, you still disobeyed me. You know what happens to kids who disobey?” 

“I’m not you’re fucking kid Crane!” Jason scoffs, “Let me go and we’ll settle this like adults. Unless you’re scared to-” 

Crane slaps him again. “They get time out Jason. That’s all you had to say.” He shakes his head as he grabs a pair of medical gloves and slides them on. “But, since you decided to keep back-talking, I’ll have to extend your punishment a little bit, maybe alter it too.” He grabs the needle and pushes it into Jason’s inner arm near his elbow. He then uses it to get the IV running into his arm, flooding Jason’s system with drugs. 

“In the interest of transparency, something you’ve been lacking in, I’ll tell you what’s in this glorious concoction, sound fair? Some fear toxin, sugammadex to keep you from squirming, some water and other various medicines to keep you alive, along with some other various things I managed to steal from a nearby medical facility.” Jason’s head begins to slowly drop as the drugs begin to do their work on his system. Crane reappears in Jason’s field of view with three more blurry items. He quickly gags Jason with one rag, then blindfolds him with the other. He goes to set noise-canceling headphones over his ears, but pauses briefly. “See you in a week.” 

Jason whimpers as the headphones settle in place over his ears, the lack of noise reminding him of when Slade had him. He wants to yell after Crane, tell him that he’s sorry and he’ll do better this time, but his mouth refuses to open. Jason focuses his strength on trying to shake the headphones free but fails to even move his head, let alone get them to budge. He wants to cry, to scream for help, but his eyelids feel so heavy and sleep sounds so nice…

He dreams of falling. He watches as his hand slips from Dick’s grasp. Jason watches the building speed by until he hits the ground. Conner doesn’t catch him, no one miraculously appears to save him. Jason feels every bone in his body break before his heart stops. 

He wakes up in a cold sweat, or at least he thinks he’s awake. The headphones are removed from his head, followed by the blindfold. Dick has come to save him. Jason can’t help but smile when he sees his savior. That smile quickly drops when he realizes that Dick is frowning. 

“Dick! Thank god you’re here…. What’s wrong?” 

“You betrayed us dammit!” Dick yells, slamming his fist into the table next to them. “We trusted you, took you in as one of our own and for what?” 

“N-no Dick you don’t get it!” Jason stutters out, his body shaking, “Crane was manipulating me! I didn’t know what I was doing, I wasn’t in control I swear!” Jason waits for him to answer, but Dick stays silent, his back turned to Jason. “You, you believe me, right?” 

“You killed Hank.” Dick spits out, turning as he says it. “You killed my brother!” Before Jason can even register it, Dick’s hands are around his throat, choking him. 

“I’m sorry Dick!” Jason sobs between gasping for air. “Being brought back from the dead fucked me up! That’s no excuse but please you’ve gotta believe me!” 

“Oh I believe you alright.” Dick growls, “I believe that you’re a liar, and a thief, and a murderer. I bet you killed your own mother, didn’t you?” 

Tears prick at the corner of Jason’s eyes, “You don’t mean that.” 

“Who was next huh? Me? Bruce? You’re nothing without either of us behind you and you know it.” A gun appears in Dick’s hand, “It’s time I finished the job the Joker started, wouldn’t you agree?” 

The gun goes off with a bang, sending Jason spiraling down a black hole, where he falls and falls and falls, unsure of where the bottom is or if he’ll ever hit it. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright team, sources say Red Hood should be in here.” Dick says to the team as they stand in front of the third warehouse this week alone. 

“What if he’s not?” Gar asks, “We got Scarecrow a week ago, who’s to say Jason didn’t just get scared and leave town?” 

“Crane said Jason was still in town.” Dick informs him, trying not to betray any of the anxiety he’s currently feeling in regards to confronting his brother. “He can’t just try to go off the radar and hope we’ll forget about this. He needs to face consequences. Now are we ready?” The Team nods, following Dick’s lead as he kicks the door in. “Don’t let your guard down. Gar, Conner, and Rachel, you guys take the second story, Donna, Kory and I’ll check the ground floor.” 

The Titans all nod, before splitting up and heading towards their assigned areas. Dick motions for Donna to take the left side and Kory take the right while he works through the middle. He pulls his two escrima sticks off his back as he slowly makes his way through the vast warehouse. He reaches the middle, a wide-open lab space and almost drops his weapons when he notices the hostage sitting in the middle of the lab. 

“Fuck.” He whispers to himself. Dick briefly considers alerting the team, but upon remembering Red Hood could be in the warehouse, he decides against it. Best to avoid conflict when dealing with hostages. 

He takes in the nearly empty IV bag, coupled with an empty one sitting discarded on a nearby table. Green liquid runs from the bag into the hostage’s arm, filling them with some nasty concoction of the Red Hood’s making. They are bound to the chair by their wrists and ankles and are gagged, blindfolded and have what looks to be noise-canceling headphones tightly fitted over their ears. First things first, get those headphone’s off so they don’t freak out when I touch them, Dick thinks to himself as he cautiously approaches the hostage, mentally preparing for any booby traps. He carefully slides the headphones off, causing the hostage to flinch, probably from the sudden touch. 

“Hey,” Dick whispers, knowing that depending on how long the headphones were on, they could not be used to the noise. They shake as they hear his voice, “I’m one of the good guys. You’re safe now.” Dick frowns when he realizes this does nothing to quell the shaking. “I’m going to leave the blindfold on, I don’t want to hurt your eyes, but I can take the gag out so we can talk okay?” They don’t do anything to let Dick know they’ve heard him, so he takes the gag out anyways. 

“J-just shoot me already,” His hoarse voice spits out, “I know how this goes.” 

“Woah!” Dick jumps back in shock, “I don’t know what the hell happened to you but that’s not how things go here, like I said, I’m one of the good guys. I’m not gonna shoot you-” Realization dawns across Dick as he recognizes the voice. “Holy shit. Jason?” 

“N-no need to pretend.” Jason shakes out, “I know how this scenario ends.” His head drops, “Can you please- please just get it over with.” 

“Scenario? I don’t know what you’re talking about-” Dick’s eyes fall upon the IV again, “Do you know what’s in the IV?” 

Jason hoarsley laughs, “That’s a new one.” 

“Jason, this is real. I’m real.” Dick grabs his arm gently, ignoring the flinch from Jason. 

“You know what’s in here.” Jason’s voice chokes as tears well up in his eyes. “Fear toxin, some other shit-stuff. Can you just shoot me so I can go back to sleep? Please?” 

Dick shakes his head, even though he knows Jason can’t see it. “You can sleep now.” He waits a few seconds, and when Jason doesn’t respond, he continues to work on freeing him. Dick gently pulls the IV out of his arm, cursing himself silently when he realizes there are no bandages present. As he’s cutting the bindings off of Jason with a batarang, Donna and Kory appear behind him, making him jump. 

“Holy shit.” Kory exclaims, looking at the man before them. “Red Hood’s taking hostages again?” 

Dick shakes his head and turns back at Kory and Donna briefly. “Scarecrow did this. It’s Jason, we gotta get him out of here.” 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘it’s Jason’?” Donna asks as she continues to watch Dick cut the restraints off of him. 

“I mean Scarecrow left Jason here to die.” The last piece of duct tape snaps free, resulting in Jason tumbling forward into Dick’s arms. “I don’t know how long he’s been blindfolded, so I don’t want to remove it and hurt his eyes.” Dick scoops Jason into his arms and carefully stands up. “God he weighs nothing.” He begins to walk towards the main door, only for Kory and Donna to step in his way. 

“Dick this could be a trap.” Kory points out, crossing her arms. “How do you know he wasn’t planted here? They could’ve known we were coming!” 

“He asked me to shoot him, Kory.” Dick looks down at his brother in his arms. “I don’t think this was planned. I don’t want to fight you guys, but he’s hurt and needs help.” 

“Fine.” Donna says as she and Kory step out of his way, “But he’s getting handcuffed to the bed until we sort this all out.” Dick wants to argue, but bites his tongue in favor of getting him to the car. All that matters is making sure Jason is okay.

[geminihurt]

Whumptober 2022 | Day 16

No way out | Paralytic drugs

"You remember Dr. Arzt's friend. Did it bit you? Does it hurt? He told why they call it the Medusa spider"

Lost 3x14 | Paulo - Rodrigo Santoro

[pigeonwhumps]

Auction part 2

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Whumptober masterlist

Day 16: NO WAY OUT | mind control | paralytic drugs | "no-one's coming"

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch

Phoenix is sold at auction.

1.6k

CWs: minor whumpee (17 year old), non-con drugging, non-con nudity (non-sexual), non-con touching (mostly non-sexual – not detailed), restrained

When Phoenix wakes, they’re shivering, legs bare and bent, pressed against something hard and cold. It feels like tiles. They try to move their arms around themself but there’s a clinking sound and they can’t.

“Finally. You’re awake. I was beginning to think we’d have to auction you off unconscious.”

Phoenix snaps their eyes open at the sound of Earthshaker’s voice, remembering where they are. They’re chained kneeling to the floor, power-dampening cuffs snapped around their wrists, completely naked aside from the mask covering the top half of their face (which explains the cold – they try to hunch over, to cover themself, but they can’t). They pull at the chain, feeling for weak links or rust or... something, they’re not sure, but anything that can get them out of this. There’s nothing though, their chains are solid.

“Now, now, don’t try that. You can’t get out of here without any powers. Not that camouflage will do you any good.”

“Fuck you,” spits Phoenix. Their illusion and camouflage powers have saved them more times than they can count, even though Abbie hates them using them (but then, she’s not there most of the time).

Earthshaker rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, they certainly named you right. All fire and no substance. Now, hold still.”

The supervillain pulls out a syringe and Phoenix eyes it warily. “What’s in that?”

“Paralytic.”

“That’ll kill me! You need me alive!”

“Oh, little firebird. Don’t look so worried. I wouldn’t kill you. This is a new formula, developed by my best scientists. You will be able to breathe, although everything else will be paralysed. It will allow me to display you in the best possible way for prospective buyers.”

“You’re not coming anywhere near me with that!” shouts Phoenix, pulling back as far as they can. All they succeed in doing is pinning themself into a corner, unable to stop Earthshaker depressing the syringe into their shoulder. They feel their body start to slow, dropping out of their control, and with a last-ditch effort they say thickly, “Do you get some sort of kick out of drugging people?”

“Only you. You’re a pain in all of our asses, and I am very much looking forward to getting you out of our way. I wonder who will buy you.” Phoenix tries to open their mouth, to tell Earthshaker that they won’t be bought, they’re not just going to give in, but they can’t. Their mouth won’t move. The drug is kicking in far earlier than they’d expected and they’re terrified. They try to smother their emotions but too slowly. Earthshaker smiles. “There’s that fear. Such fire, and yet there’s no-one coming for you, is there? There never is.”

With the last of their strength they push a finger out of their fist, holding it up at Earthshaker. The supervillain snarls, backhanding Phoenix hard across the face.

“You’re going to regret that. I can let the buyers do whatever they like, if I choose.” He snaps his fingers and two black-clothed attendants appear. “Display them in room two.”

The woman picks Phoenix up and drapes them over her shoulder, heading out of the room. Phoenix’s stomach rolls with dread as they’re taken through the corridors of the mansion and dropped roughly on the thinning carpet in one of the rooms. They can’t even begin to move away, they can’t even focus their eyes, everything’s blurry. The two attendants waste no time in brusquely chaining Phoenix back up, wrists attached to a beam hanging from the ceiling and feet attached to a spreader bar, as far apart as they can go. They’re spread-eagled, naked in front of anyone who might walk in, and they feel horribly exposed. After the attendants leave without a word spoken, Phoenix can still feel their rough, too-tight hands on their body.

It’s weird, they think, being so afraid and yet unable to feel any of the physical effects of it. No stomach cramps, no tight muscles... it’s unusual. They can’t decide whether they prefer it, and that disgusts them. They’re chained up like some mockery of a hero, only wearing their mask, visible for all to see, and yet there are parts of this that they... prefer? God.

They hate most of this. They hate that they, too, can see their body, and their breathing comes in short gasps as they contemplate their situation. Trapped, helpless, alone. No-one coming for them, they never do, Abbie trusts them to get out of their own messes. They won’t die, after all.

Breathe. Just breathe. They need to breathe. They focus on that, because there’s nothing else to focus on. Not yet.

At least they won’t die.

They’re not sure how long they stay like that, alone in this room, before there’s movement and voices outside. Phoenix prepares themself. If they could, they’d grit their teeth. This isn’t going to be pleasant.

And it isn’t pleasant. Villains crowd into the room, touching them, hands too tight and too intimate and too much, groping, squeezing their arms, nails digging in, scraping down their body, leaving stinging cuts. It’s too much, they’re all too close, boxing them in, and they fight to keep their breathing even. Some people don’t touch, just circle Phoenix, examining them, and they can hear their breathing. It’s still too damn close.

Finally, finally, staff members come to usher the villains out, and Phoenix is left... not in peace, not exactly, but alone at least. They can still feel the echoes of touch everywhere, bruising hands, blood trickling down their back. They still can’t move a muscle. Everything hurts, and not just on the outside, they hurt with the pain and indignity of being strung up like this, like a piece of meat, like a mockery of a person, everyone looking. They can’t even move to cover themself at all.

Suddenly, Earthshaker’s voice booms loud near them, and they would jump if they could.

“And now it’s time for today’s main attraction! Many of you here have been insulted, hurt, homes destroyed, plans thwarted, by our little Firebird here, and now, for one time only, they’re for sale, for you to do with as you wish! But first, can you hear me, little hero?” There’s a pause. “Of course, I forgot. You can’t answer. But they’re listening, believe me. So. Bidding starts at £100,000!”

Phoenix tunes out the majority of the auction, not wanting to hear what amount people are willing to pay for them. But they need to know who’s bought them, so they keep one ear out for when their name is mentioned again.

“And Firebird is sold for £2.3 million to Black Ice!”

Phoenix goes cold. Fuck. Not her. They’ve crossed paths before, and what will she do to them for what happened then? They try to concentrate back on Earthshaker’s voice.

“... our attendants will pack them as per your directions.” The speaker clicks off abruptly, and Phoenix drifts, wondering what will happen to them now.

They’re not sure how long it is before two more black-clothed attendants appear in the doorway, followed by Earthshaker and Black Ice. Phoenix still can’t see very well but if they struggle they can focus a little. The paralytic must be wearing off.

Of course, with four people in the room, at least two powered, and still barely able to move even when the chains and spreader bar are removed, it doesn’t make much of a difference. They topple forwards, falling on their face with a thump.

“Just tie them up so they can’t move,” orders Black Ice crisply, “and blindfold them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” says one of the attendants, and Phoenix is kicked over onto their back. The attendants start winding chains around them, binding their arms to their torso and their legs together.

“So,” says Earthshaker, “just out of personal curiosity, what are you planning to do with them?”

“Oh, you’ll find out when it happens. But don’t worry, I won’t go soft on them. They blew up my base, after all.”

Black Ice is standing above them now, supervising the attendants, and Phoenix forces a tiny smirk onto their face. Despite everything, that memory still brings them satisfaction. Black Ice was the first villain they defeated.

“And you’re going to regret doing it. Would you like to know what my plans for you are?”

Phoenix can’t respond yet, and Black Ice waits for the blindfold to be tied tightly over their mask before bending down to whisper in their ear.

Phoenix doesn’t react to the words. They couldn’t, even if they wanted to. But as they’re lifted and jostled, taken out into the cool night air and dumped on something... not entirely hard, but not soft either, they have nothing to do but think on her proclamation. Something slams behind them and an engine starts, and Phoenix’s mind just keeps circling. The paralytic’s wearing off, and although it doesn’t help them escape it allows them to tremble with fear. Nausea roils in their stomach and they take deep, slow breaths, trying not to throw up. They need to survive this until they can escape, and that won’t be helped by vomiting all over Black Ice’s car.

It’s difficult not to, though, when they think about what’s in store for them. How are they supposed to survive that?

How are they supposed to get out of it?

Maybe someone will rescue them. It’s very unlikely but, maybe, just maybe, if they’re missing long enough... maybe someone will care enough to help.

Maybe one day.

Picrews of Earthshaker and Black Ice! (picrew here)

[musewrangler]

“You don’t deserve to die in battle. You don’t DESERVE to die in some honorable cause,” his captor had hissed as Anakin was dumped upon the stone unceremoniously, like an animal to the slaughter.

“You are responsible for the deaths of MILLIONS. Possibly more, and that really does boggle the mind. One man—--man,” he scoffed, “hardly. One MONSTER with galaxies of blood on his hands.”

He was stretched on the stone and shackled to it by wrists and ankles.

“How can you possibly ever feel the depth of remorse needed to atone for THAT, Anakin Skywalker?” snarled the one who seemed to be in charge. He was a Klatoonian with a horribly scarred face and a left arm that was shrivelled and useless. Anakin wondered vaguely how it had happened and had no doubt it had occurred through something he’d done.

“I can’t,” he’d croaked, despising his helplessness. “But I am seeking to live a life spent in atonement.”

[littleperilstories]

Whumptober 2022: #16 :: No Way Out

Whumptober Masterpost

Mind Control | Paralytic Drugs | “No one’s coming.”

Whumpee: Ash Levin

Whumper: Douglas Heminworth

@whumptober-archive / @whumptober

CW: noncon drugging, kidnapping/abduction/captivity

The Curiosity Collector

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The man cocked his head to one side. “Your mind is still your own. The potion should have worked. Your mind should belong to me.”

“What have you done to me?”

Ash could not believe the voice that cracked from his lips was his own. It can’t be. It couldn’t be. He didn’t sound like that.

Exhausted, weak, helpless. Half-dead.

“Not enough, apparently.” The man who’d taken him—who’d filled him with wicked human chemicals that made Ash’s thoughts trudge through a bog that dragged and sucked at his feet—narrowed his eyes in displeasure and confusion.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Ash willed his limbs to move, but neither bone nor muscle would obey. He could blink, cast his gaze around the room like a frightened animal in the woods, move his tongue to form words. But that was it.

“I do not understand,” the man said. Ash tried to remember the name he’d given, something pompous and disgustingly human. “How are you resisting it?”

“Resisting what?”

The man cocked his head to one side. “Your mind is still your own. The potion should have worked. Your mind should belong to me.”

Ash felt his breath begin to stutter. “Why—What—”

“I have never know anyone, witch or no, to resist this poison,” the man said quietly. “And yet here you are. Your mind is clear.”

“Is this what you do, then?” Ash licked his lips, his body beginning to scream from the effort of  trying to get his muscles to budge. “Take witches and make them your obedient slaves?”

“Usually, yes.” The man was still frowning. What is his name? Something hideous, with letters that tripped on the tongue and caught in the throat. “And I have quite the collection, too. I have never encountered this before.”

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Ash said, “that you should release me.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it.”

Chilling—how calmly this man talked of collecting living, breathing creatures as if they were toys. Playthings.

The memory of a hand fisting into his hair while this human forced poison down his throat came to mind. A boy with a name, something far more witchlike. Conri.

“How many are you keeping here?” Ash asked, his heart pounding.

“I think that’s enough questions,” the man said, “until we figure out what’s wrong with you.”

Ash began to sputter. “I—you—wrong?” Fire was burning in his veins. It was going to boil him from the inside out. “There’s nothing wrong with me just because your—”

“Quiet now,” the man said, and something about the dangerous edge to his voice jogged Ash’s memory.

“Douglas.”

The man met his gaze, eyes narrowing again.

“That’s your name,” Ash said. “I remember.”

Even narrower still, until they were nearly slits.

“When I get out of here,” Ash said, “I’ll make sure everyone else knows it, too.”

The threat held none of the weight he hoped it would. Douglas Heminworth began to laugh. “You think anyone in this town gives a rat’s ass about the witches who live beyond the walls? What makes you think they’ll believe a word you say? Or, if they do, even care?”

Ash thought his neck might break as he strained against the hold of whatever drugs Heminworth had given him, but even the pain could not will his muscles to move.

“You’re a fool,” Heminworth said. “A pretty fool. No one knows you’re here, and no one’s coming. Not any witches. Certainly not any humans.”

Ash wanted to scream, to let his voice erupt into the air until his throat bled. But he found he could not. A tear spilled out of the corner of his eyes, and he felt it trail down his cheek.

“That’s right,” said Heminworth, a smile that might be confused as tender curling his lips. Ash jerked his head away as a filthy human hand reached over to stroke his hair. “You’re mine now, whether you like it or not.”

“I’m not,” Ash said, “nor will I ever.”

Heminworth shrugged. “We’ll see after this. I have upped your dosage. Perhaps that will do the trick.” His smile widened. “Let’s find out.”

[writergeek]

Not his hands. Anything but his hands. (Except… he’s already lost control of this.)

Prompts: 1. Unconventional restraints + 12 Rusty nail + 16. Paralytic drugs + 23. Forced to kneel & tied to a table + (22) alt8 made to watch

~~~~~~

At some point, they get tired of threatening him with implied, unseen torture and move on to the, well, more visible and permanent things.

Which does mean he loses the blindfold, so there is that.

It happens all at once, in a swift motion of someone grabbing his head and yanking at the knot at the back of his head, tightening it briefly, and then—

And then suddenly it's gone and—

There’s light—

So much light—

The brightness piercing his eyes makes him cringe at first, and it's all he can do to squeeze his eyes shut. But there’s still an imprint of light and dark on his eyelids and he would swear that light is still curling into his eyes around the edges of his eyelids.

The light is physically painful after hours (days?) of not seeing, of being trapped in the darkness. It’s enough to bring his headache ratcheting back up.

His hair is grabbed again, forcing his head up and to the side.

...

Continue on AO3 or read the whole thing from the beginning. :D

[sadinasaphrite]

Whumptober Day 16 - Silver

Little child Silver goes wandering through the woods and finds something unexpectedly dangerous.

No. 16 NO WAY OUT

Mind Control | Paralytic Drugs | “No one’s coming.”

Read on AO3!

Fic under the cut!

Silver wasn’t lost.

At least, that was what he told himself as he wandered through an unfamiliar part of the woods. He’d finished his chores early, so Father said he could go out and play, so long as he stayed close to home and didn’t talk to strangers.

Not that there were many strangers that came near their cottage in the middle of the woods. Silver was almost seven years old, but hardly anyone came all the way out here except for Sebek, Malleus, and the rare unfamiliar adult. When the adults came, Father always sent Silver to go play in his room, and the adults would speak in hushed tones that Silver never overheard.

Silver frowned and looked around him. He surely wasn’t lost. The mountains were to his left, and that meant the cottage was to his right. …Right? He thought he knew the area around the cottage, but the Feywilds of Briar Valley were unpredictable at best, and the landscape sometimes had a habit of shifting around when he wasn’t looking. Whenever he did get lost, there was almost always a helpful rabbit or bluebird to guide him back home, but the forest was oddly quiet. Uncomfortably quiet, actually. There wasn’t a single singing bird or scolding squirrel anywhere.

Maybe… maybe he should start trying to find his way home now…

Silver pulled his little cloak tight around his shoulders and started for the direction he hoped was home. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when something caught his eye.

Just off the path was a flower he’d never seen before. It stood amid a patch of brambles, with long, tapered petals that glowed a vivid green. Silver stared at it, mesmerized. He’d never seen a flower glow before.

He crouched down next to it, eyes wide with wonder. Maybe if he just…

Silver reached forward with an outstretched finger to touch the gleaming petals. At his touch, the petals snapped closed like a trap and something within the flower pricked his finger. Silver cried out and stumbled back, falling on his rear. The flower curled in on itself and withered, turning black and purple before turning to ash.

What in the world? Silver looked down at his finger to see a drop of blood beading on his fingertip. Did the flower bite him? It was definitely time to go home. Silver rose to his feet.

Or tried to, at least. His legs didn’t seem to want to move. Silver frowned. He could imagine wanting to stand up and start walking, but his legs simply didn’t respond. Silver grabbed his ankle and lifted his foot up. It felt strange, like he was holding someone else’s leg, and the sensation of his own foot felt distant and far away. Also…stiff?

His hands tingled, and then his fingers fumbled their grip, dropping his leg back to the ground. What? He looked closely at his hands, inspecting them front and back, but they didn’t look any different. Silver tried clenching a fist, and instead his fingers spasmed and stiffened, sticking straight out. His arms were next, muscles twitching uncontrollably until they dropped to his sides, useless as his numb legs.

His throat ran dry and his heart pounded in his chest. Something was wrong. Very wrong. A tension crept in from his shoulders and up his belly, tightening everything along the way.

“H… Help!!!” Silver cried to the silent woods. “Help! Father! Lilia! Papa!!! H-He… help… m-me…”

His voice failed him and Silver’s words faded into wispy, desperate breaths. His abdomen went numb and he fell backward, hitting his head hard against the packed dirt of the trail. What was happening to him??

He stared up at the trees, heart racing in his chest. Tears welled in his eyes. He blinked quickly, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He tried to blink again, and his eyelids didn’t respond, eyes open and fixed on the branches above. His breath stuttered and Silver’s heart beat erratically in his chest.

What was going to happen to him? How would he ever get home like this? Would Father even know where to find him?

His breath stopped.

Was… was he going… to…

“SILVER!!!”

Lilia’s scream was like nothing Silver had ever heard before. Strong arms scooped him up and held his limp form against his chest.

“Silver!!! Silver, say something! What happened? What did— that’s… a spindle blossom? All the way out here?? Fuck!”

Silver had never heard his father use such strong language, but he was too far gone to be shocked. Thinking was difficult, his thoughts slogging through his mind like a horse in mud, and darkness crept in from the corners of his vision.

“Stay with me, my little knight. This won’t be pleasant.”

Strong, slender fingers pressed against Silver’s chest, then glowed with a violet light. The light slowly crept across Silver’s body, flowing out from Lilia’s fingers like streams of water until Silver was fully engulfed in light. Then Lilia clenched his hand into a fist, and every inch of Silver’s body burned. He would have screamed if he could move, but all he could do was lay helpless in Lilia’s arms as wave after wave of pain screamed through his veins like fire.

Lilia slowly lifted his hand from Silver’s chest, and the purple glow crawled back to him. Silver caught a glimpse of streaks of poisonous green light amid the purple before the pain became too much, and he succumbed to darkness.

* * * * *

He must have only been out for a minute or two, because when Silver awoke, he was still in Lilia’s arms.

“Silver?” A gentle hand stroked through his hair. “Can you hear me, Silver?”

Silver gave a soft groan in response and his eyes fluttered open.

“...Papa?”

Tears shone in Lilia’s scarlet eyes.

“Welcome back, my little knight.” He tenderly kissed Silver’s forehead and held him close, heading for home. “You’re safe. You’ll be alright.”

“Mmsleepy,” Silver murmured. The ordeal had left him truly exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next week. He curled up against Lilia’s chest and clung to the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Rest, Silver.” A chuckle vibrated through his chest. “However, we will be studying poisonous plants when you are well.”

That sounded like a problem for tomorrow. Safe in his father’s arms, Silver drifted into sleep.

[crackedcrystal]

Whumptober2022

No.16 No Way Out

Paralytic Drugs

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Pt. 32: No Way out

TWs in the tags

Previous

Masterlist

Next

Mind control | Paralytic drugs | “No one’s coming.”

You’re allowed to leave the basement, now. Your collar is back on.

Your punishment isn’t over. Not even close. You’re going to hurt and hurt and hurt for months. You won’t be able to eat solid foods or walk or hold things. But you’re allowed to leave the basement. Jane feels you’ve learned your lesson.

She didn’t even make a threat for if you tried to run again. She knows you won’t make another escape attempt.

You haven’t left the basement. You haven’t even left the cold room. You can’t move.

“No one’s coming.” Jane mocks. “They won’t step foot down here unless I tell them to. You’ll have to get upstairs on your own.”

Finally, Jane gets bored of taunting you and calls Dollie down. Dollie will take care of you.

You open your eyes. Dollie kneels next to you and squeezes your hand. You can’t feel it, which is good because all of your fingers are broken.

You wish you could ask for a hug, and you wish a hug wouldn’t hurt.

Dollie picks you up. You cry. It hurts, it hurts to have your bones move.

Dollie hums gently. You focus on her voice, trying to ignore the pain.

Dollie gently sets you in your bed. Warmth is coming back to your fingers and toes and ears, and it burns. It burns as if you’re being branded all over again. You shriek. You don’t want to lose the numbness, you want the numbness back, you want the cold back.

Dollie leaves the room and comes back with a medical kit. It’s not the normal first aid kit, but you can’t see what’s in it from your position.

Dollie moves back out of your field of vision. You don’t know what’s happening. You whimper.

There’s a loud crack, and your burning toes somehow hurt even more.

Dollie painstakingly forces all of your toes into the positions they should be in and secures them so that they can’t move. You scream.

You don’t want this. It hurts, it hurts so bad, you just want it to stop! You scream and scream but she doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand that you want her to stop. You’d rather your bones stay in their incorrect orientations, you don’t want her to move them! Please, it hurts!

Why isn’t Kit here? They would ask what you wanted. They would develop a system where you could ask for a break without speaking.

Is this how Dollie feels all the time? This hopelessness? This feeling that you can’t get anyone to understand because you can’t communicate?

You try to tell her to stop. You make the noises you can with a broken jaw. “St, st, st!"

She doesn’t understand. You can’t escape the pain, there’s no way out of your own body.

She moves up your body, setting most of your broken bones, until she realigns your jaw.

You scream and cry, frustrated with your inability to communicate. Dollie leaves and comes back with a smoothie.

You press your lips together. You don’t want to drink more. You don’t want to ever eat again.

Dollie forces the straw between your lips anyway. Maybe she does understand what you’re communicating. Maybe she just doesn’t care.

The smoothie doesn’t taste like meat. In fact, it tastes like like chocolate. The smoothie is gone before you know it.

Dollie pats your head. You guess that’s the only way to provide you physical comfort right now. Everything hurts so much.

~~

I teleport into my Puppy’s room. I told her to stay in there tonight, instead of with Bunny. She sits on the edge of her bed.

“Are you ready to strengthen some associations?”

Puppy stares straight ahead and nods mechanically.

“I really don’t understand why you hate it so much. It doesn’t even hurt. Hold still.”

I adjust her collar and inject the paralytic. It really is annoying, to have to make sure her body keeps associating the conditioned stimuli with the things I want. Especially when I’m hardly ever using that specific response. But I like to keep it around, just in case.

“You’re safe now.”

She goes completely limp.

I should probably change the conditioned stimulus for that one at some point. The point of it was to fuck with whoever found her after her first “escape,” but that won’t be necessary anymore. And wouldn’t it be fun, to have her go limp at a snap of my fingers?

Another time. For now, we’re just making sure extinction doesn’t occur. I inject another drug into her neck.

“It’s bedtime.”

She’s unconscious immediately, faster than the drug can kick in. Very good. The conditioned response is the one exception to her needing permission to sleep.

Those two are the only responses I bother to upkeep. There used to be loads more, but I let them fall by the wayside after she was done trying to escape.

I curl up next to my Puppy on the bed. I haven’t slept in ages, and teleporting a house and a car left me more tired than normal.

Should she wake up, she’s too well trained to try anything. I close my eyes and fall into a contented sleep.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @ghostsinthecloset

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Whumptober Day 16: Mind Control | Paralytic Drugs

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

This one demanded to be told from Lord Denholm’s perspective and yet he fought me every step of the way. Oh well. I think the result was well worth the struggle of writing it.

Sometimes Lord Denholm likes to take some time to indulge himself.

Contains: Intimate whump, vampire whumper, bloodbag whumpee, noncon kissing, noncon touching, referenced past noncon, fade-to-black noncon, drugging, mind control, mental link between whumper and whumpee, manipulation, gilded cage

~~~

He had Wallace bring them lunch in his study.

That wasn’t unusual; Soren had quite a collection of tomes, and they often worked through the day, trying to make progress in sorting through what was worthwhile and what was useless. Elze’ith, with his knowledge of healing and holy magics, was quite helpful in that regard, able to catch things Soren would have missed due to his lack of experience in those areas. 

But it also gave Soren the opportunity to slip things to his companion and watch the effects play out in a more comfortable setting. Like today; Wallace had been told to mask a potion in Elze’ith’s soup, under notes of clove and pepper. It would interrupt their research, but that was fine. He did so like to indulge from time to time.

Elze’ith, bright as he was, had caught on to Soren’s trick; flickers of suspicion sparked in his mind with everything Wallace brought up, despite the rarity that it would actually do anything to him. Today was no different, and Soren sensed his apprehension even as he picked up his utensils. The slight prickle of fear and uncertainty was delectable, as was the helplessness, as Elze’ith knew he couldn’t refuse the meal without being punished for denying Soren’s generosity, and going hungry besides. 

The bowl was halfway empty when a spike of alarm shot through the mental connection Soren maintained with the object of his captivation. He pretended not to notice as Elze’ith struggled to maintain his grip on his spoon and continue eating. After about another minute of effort, the spoon clattered noisily into the bowl and Elze’ith’s arm fell limply by his side. Soren smiled as Elze’ith tried and failed to flex his fingers, only managing a slight twitch before they went fully still.

“Lor’ D’nholm?” Elze’ith’s words slurred through a mouth that didn’t want to move. His heart was beating rabbit-quick in his chest, audible to Soren’s keen hearing. “Wha— I feel—”

Soren gently closed the tome he had open. Yes, they were done with reading for the day. “No need to fret, my light. I’ll put the books away, and send for Wallace to collect the remnants of our meal.”

Elze’ith gave a small groan but otherwise didn’t audibly respond as Soren cleared the table. His panic had curdled into dread, and Soren basked in it. The anticipation and vulnerability were intoxicating, especially coming from a man as brilliant and capable as his light.

How he delighted in slowly, painstakingly snuffing that light out so he could spark something new in its place.

When he returned to Elze’ith’s side, the man was lilting slightly, face slack and eyes half-lidded. His breaths were shallow, and his heart hadn’t eased its rapid pace. The potion had taken full effect, and wouldn’t wear off for quite some time. He settled on the couch, ready for an indulgent afternoon.

With a smile Soren took one of Elze’ith’s hands, marveling at the softness of his skin. A thin half-sound squeezed from Elze’ith’s throat as Soren pressed his thumb into Elze’ith’s palm and rubbed outwards, slowly spreading his fingers out one by one. The digits folded back into place immediately, unable to hold a splayed position with the paralytic in Elze’ith’s system, but there was joy in the sheer act of manipulating them, seeing how they stretched and bent. 

Revulsion seeped through their mental connection as Soren closed his hand around Elze’ith’s and lowered it into his lap, but the emotion was distant. Pride swelled within him at the assurance that Elze’ith was growing more and more accustomed to his affections. Eventually he would give and receive touch freely. He might almost regret that day’s arrival; there was something gratifying about the chase, about getting what he desired despite Elze’ith’s reticence. But compliance could be just as rewarding.

Using his free hand, he tilted Elze’ith’s chin towards his own. Hazy, fear-filled green eyes blinked up at him. Elze’ith’s lips were slightly parted, and Soren could not resist the urge to lean in and steal a kiss. Of course, Elze’ith did not reciprocate, but that only meant that Soren had free reign to bite and toy with Elze’ith’s lower lip, to push into his mouth and lay claim to the space there.

Mine, he purred across their mental bond, drowning out Elze’ith’s distress. All mine.

Soren didn’t need to breathe, but Elze’ith did, so he pulled back after a little while, admiring the look of Elze’ith’s pupils blown wide and the reedy sound of his breaths as his body didn’t let him gasp. Beautiful, his light was simply beautiful. He always was when he struggled. It always drove Soren to push farther, if only to see how Elze’ith would look painted with new strife.

“I wonder,” he mused aloud, letting Elze’ith’s chin go. His head lolled forward, unsupported. “You’ve always taken direction quite well, my light. You’ve pushed beyond your limits under my guidance. But this potion is also quite strong. I brewed it myself, after all.” He trailed his fingers fondly down Elze’ith’s cheek. Elze’ith didn’t tense or flinch away. With a smile Soren focused his power across the magic that connected the two of them. “Raise your head and look at me.”

It was a simple command, and thus it took root easily. Elze’ith had followed similar commands in the past instantaneously, but not so now. A strangled noise of torment escaped Elze’ith’s lips as his neck and shoulders trembled. After several moments his head slowly started to rise, until Elze’ith was looking up at Soren from under his eyelashes.

A heady feeling of power pooled in Soren’s core. “Excellent,” he murmured, bringing his hand up to cup Elze’ith’s cheek. He released the command, and Elze’ith immediately went limp into his grasp. “Now, when I kiss you, you’re going to respond.”

Command in place, he leaned in once again. He was slower, less aggressive, so that Elze’ith could match him even through the paralysis. And Elze’ith did kiss back, even if it was faltering and unsteady. The quality of the kiss didn’t matter; this was about more than that.

This time, when Elze’ith’s detestation swept across their link, it was stronger, more immediate. With all of the care of a gardener trimming a rose bush Soren stripped the hard edges of the emotion away until only a vague sense of shame remained. Shame he could work with, but anything with teeth wouldn’t do.

He smiled against Elze’ith’s mouth before he pulled away. Elze’ith let out a low whine, trembling against Soren’s hand. Soren tilted his head, contemplative. “Interesting, how you can still make noise on your own even when you need my help to move. Speak for me, my light.”

For a moment Elze’ith only let out a soft groan. Then his mouth moved, ever so slightly. “M’lor— Ple-ase—”

“There we go, that’s it. You’re doing wonderfully, my light.” Elze’ith’s mouth remained open after the command left him; Soren idly wondered if he would drool. Oh, the things he wanted to do to that mouth.

He squeezed Elze’ith’s hand before letting it go and moving to touch Elze’ith’s chest. The silk shirt he had gotten tailored for Elze’ith was of the highest quality, and showed off his form nicely. He pressed the fabric into Elze’ith’s skin, tracing a pattern with his finger. Those beautiful green eyes of Elze’ith’s were still wide with fear, and Soren let the emotion sing across their bond as he moved to pull Elze’ith’s collar aside. 

“What do you taste like right now, my light?” he pondered. The hand grasping Elze’ith’s cheek took on a slightly more firm grip as he tilted Elze’ith’s head to the side. Elze’ith’s breathing picked up, but Soren paid him no heed as he leaned in and sunk his fangs into Elze’ith’s neck.

The magic in Elze’ith’s blood was strong, and Soren sighed as the familiar taste of powerful, refreshing life force blossomed onto his tongue. It was obfuscated somewhat by the bitter numbness of the potion working its way through Elze’ith’s system, and Soren knew he couldn’t take too much or risk hurting Elze’ith or drugging himself. But the experience itself was not unpleasant, and he took his time in drinking as much as he thought the both of them could tolerate.

Elze’ith was less pleased, and distress rang across their mental link. Soren took a moment to shift through Elze’ith’s mind before plucking out the memory of feeding on him at a peak of pleasure. He forced the memory to the forefront of Elze’ith’s mind, and reveled in how it scrambled his emotions and drew a keening sound from his throat. The more Elze’ith associated feedings with pleasure, the more he would come to crave them just as much as Soren did.

Eventually, he pulled back, licking his lips. The wound continued to ooze blood. When he looked at Elze’ith’s face, there was indeed a small bead of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth. Soren smiled and thumbed it away, then pressed another kiss to Elze’ith’s parted lips. It was quick, but the sight of Elze’ith’s mouth imprinted with his own blood made him never want to see Elze’ith any other way.

But he had a good sense of how far he could push his companion, and he could tell that Elze’ith was rapidly approaching his limit. A shame; he was having so much fun. Elze’ith could go a little farther, though, and he had the perfect idea.

In a smooth motion he swept Elze’ith up into his arms and rose to his feet. Elze’ith blinked up at him hazily. A drop of blood splattered onto the carpet.

“The potion’s effects won’t fade for another several hours,” he said lightly. “Let me take you back to your chambers, my light. I can ensure you have a perfectly enjoyable time in the meanwhile.”

He had wanted to indulge, after all. And Elze’ith was going to give him just what he wanted.

[miles2g0]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Joker (DCU) Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Joker (DCU), Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Whumptober 2022, Tim Drake is Joker Jr., Tim Drake is Red Robin, Non-Consensual Electroconvulsive Therapy, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Torture, Hurt Tim Drake, Protective Jason Todd, Past Brainwashing, Past Rape/Non-con, Blood and Gore, Like, a lot of blood, Hopeful Ending, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Protective Tim Drake, Tim Drake Has PTSD, Flashbacks, I'm serious about the blood Series: Part 8 of Whumptober 2022 Summary:

It was hard to open his eyes. His eyelids, his body…he was so heavy.

But he could feel something brushing against his face. Something hot and humid. And the smell, he—he knew that—

No. No—nonononono—He was dead. He was dead, Tim had killed him. He'd seen his body, Bruce had taken care of it, turned it to ash.

He forced his eyes open and—

If he could move he would have flinched.

Inches from his face, plaque encrusted, yellowed teeth, acid green eyes, fetid breath against Tim's skin—rot and cigarettes and shit.

"Good morning, son," the Joker crooned. "Did you miss Daddy?"