#tw captivity
It was strange how the important questions got answered on a small scale, now that he was facedown in the grass. They had plagued him so completely, driven him to distraction on even the good days–What am I? What am I doing here?–and now he had his answers.
What am I? Alive.
What am I doing here? Dying.
It had been a long flight, and he didn’t know how far he had gone, only that he had done it as fast as he could, sometimes making the air pound against his ears in a bone-shaking burst. Behind him, pearly drops of ichor trailed in a mist from the places where the tubes had attached. He shouldn’t have taken off the armor in such haste. He shouldn’t have left without a plan.
It turned out, he really needed that ichor to stay on the inside.
He wanted to get up, keep flying onward, something.
Help me, he thought. He thought it very loudly. Maybe, if things like him were allowed miracles, someone would hear.
*
Something sharp in his back pricked at him until he swam up out of the black. He cracked his eyes open, enough to see that he wasn’t alone. A hand, a human hand, covered in the ichor he needed to stay inside, set a tray on the grass near his face. The hand picked something long and shiny out of the tray, and there was more of that sharp pricking that had called him back. It hurt, but it was a different kind of hurting than there had been before. Another prick, and a terrible twisting, and the new kind of hurt completely replaced the old one.
The hand dropped a squat black tube of metal into the tray. He could swear he had seen that black ring somewhere before…maybe more than one of them…
He sank back into the black.
*
Two in his upper arms, two in his shoulders, three on each side of his belly, five down his spine, one at the top of each leg, two in his chest. Something was missing. Whatever it was, he didn’t want it back. For the first time in his life, there was nothing but himself in his body. Outside, there was something soft at each of the ring ports. White tape stuck the gauze in place. He could still feel the places the rings had been, and wondered if he would ever forget that they had been there, but he was already forgetting the pain of them.
They had been there for a reason though. He could feel a new sensation that he had only heard described by others, beginning to scratch at him from the inside. The footsoldiers of Team Rocket had complained of it sometimes, when they were out in the more remote places. They had complained about a lot of things–walking too far, the smell of the Tauros, who was cheating at their games of chance, whose turn it was to gather firewood, but more often than anything they had spoken of hunger.
He had never been hungry before. He didn’t like it. He especially didn’t like having anything in common with the humans, but maybe this was one of the things that came with being alive that nobody had bothered to explain to him. It seemed there were a lot of those.
He pushed himself off the grass, the bandages and the tender places under them pulling enough to make him gasp. When the sharpness faded, he could pay attention to where he was, and what was different now.
When he had lost the strength to fly any further he had come down hard, skidding into the turf of this grassy hillside. He had seen some buildings on the other side of the hill before he fell–a human settlement, a small one. Here on this side of the hill, he was hidden from view of the village. That had been morning, and without a single tree nearby, the sun had been harsh on his face right up to the point where he’d lost his grasp on everything.
Now it was night, and there was no way to tell how long had passed since the crash. It wasn’t completely dark though; a small fire flickered to the side, the light of it glinting off metal and plastic. A human, presumably the one who had built the fire, sat with her knees pulled up against the cold. He didn’t know a lot about clothing, but he knew there was a difference between when it was chosen by the wearer’s preference, and when it was required by their job. This human had the second type, a uniform of pink and white, that had probably been crisp when she first donned it. Now there was mud all over the knees, smears of black oil and pearly ichor across the apron, more on her face and arms to join soot. She looked exhausted.
“Oh! You’re awake!” she chirped, seeing his movement. Her tiredness vanished and she sprang to her feet. “You’re a pokemon, aren’t you? I’ve never seen your type before, and the pokedex doesn’t have an entry for you. Are you feeling better, little guy? No, don’t try to get up yet!”
I am Mewtwo, he said. She jumped as though he had stung her, mouth falling in shock. Had she not expected a response?
“You can talk? Wow! You must be something really special!” She smiled. She put her whole face into smiling, letting it change her eyes, her chin, her voice. He could see how someone else might find it disarming, but he recoiled at the word special. The other humans he had met had been fond of the word, as it pertained to him. They used a dozen different varieties of it, and all of them meant that while he was singular, he was also lesser. Unique, a marvel, the ultimate…but still not worth as much as the commonest human. Just a pokemon. An animal.
“My name is Joy!” the human was telling him now. “It’s a good thing I found you here! You were hurt pretty badly! If you can, we should get to the pokecenter right away!”
Did she even know how to speak without emphasis? Did she put this kind of enthusiasm into every word all the time?
You removed the ports, he said, examining the bandages on his chest. She jumped again. He had never met another pokemon that could use human language. He had never had any difficulty understanding them, but the humans did. She was not used to being spoken to by a pokemon, an animal. She recovered quickly, and laughed.
“Well, I am a nurse! I’m not a surgeon but those rings had to come out! Now that you’re awake I can go get someone to take you–”
No. He rose to his feet, still unsteady but gaining confidence with each minute that passed. He was taller than she was, and his tail lashed as he kept balance. He looked down at her. Nobody will ever take me, ever again. For the first time, Joy faltered. The smile leached from her face and her eyes got big. They had a look in them he had seen on other humans before, though never directed at him.
She was afraid.
She took a step back, toward the other side of the hill, toward the other humans and their village. Whatever a pokecenter was, it was going to be full of people that would find him fascinating. That had, historically, ended up badly for him. He didn’t think, he only knew that Joy must not be allowed to start that cycle all over again.
Stay, he barked. She froze.
This was new. She hadn’t just stopped moving, she had frozen utterly, paralyzed. Her eyes blinked, her chest breathed, the thick vein beneath the skin of her throat still throbbed. If he looked closely, he could see it pick up the pace as her heart began to hammer. She was still afraid, yes. But she was doing as she was told.
Sit down, he commanded cautiously. She sank to her knees on the grass, somewhat stiff but sitting all the same. She stared straight ahead. The vein kept throbbing.
He took his time in deciding what to do. He needed her, that much was clear. The metal taken from his body was a good start, but they had left gaps he couldn’t see. He would need more assistance with their healing before long. Someone with the knowledge of what must be done and how it would apply to a pokemon (even a unique one) would be a rare treasure. Someone who already knew that, and also too much about him could not be allowed to escape.
The ports still hurt. He was still hungry, He was not yet in safety. He wanted more rest, and he did not know where to go. And yet…he was the only one who would ever control what he did from now on. That alone gave him the strength to focus.
The fire blazed violet and snuffed out. Gather your tools, he told Joy. She mechanically did so, holding the tray and kit in a jumble between the folds of her skirt. He snaked his tail around her waist, and found her to be lighter than he had anticipated. They rose into the air, and set off into the wind, towards the place on the horizon where the dark sky was fringed with gray and gold.
*
New Island was really more of a rock. Had it always been this small?
*
It turned out there was plenty of earth material to be found under the water. It turned out, when he didn’t have anything to distract him, he could just pick it up and put it wherever he wanted.
The rock became bigger.
*
Joy had read a lot of books when she was a child, fairy tales and made-up nonsense a lot of it. There were some interesting images to be found in the memory of them all the same. He liked the ones of old cathedrals, colored glass and high, pointed ceilings reminding those who entered that they were in the house of a creator. One could look up and be in awe of a being who had not been born, but existed all the same.
Well, he could relate to that.
He pulled metal and silica out of the ocean bed and bent them into the shapes he liked best. It kept the rain off, and was a convenient place to put Joy when he wanted sleep. She had a tendency to do silly things when he was not looking over her shoulder. There was no way she could actually make it to shore on her own, but she tried. There was nobody to signal for attention, but she tried. Her oath as a nurse prevented her from killing him, but she wanted to break it so badly there would come a day when she’d try that as well.
Better to keep her somewhere safe.
*
Distance did not make a difference when it came to supervising Joy. She could be teleported to anywhere he wanted and trusted to obey her orders, though it took practice. Maybe it was rebellion, maybe her human mind interpreted his own pokemon one imprecisely, but he learned not to give her directions that were too broad. The first time he had sent her to bring back food, she had returned with a bucket of garlic bulbs, mud and stringy leaves still on them from where she had clawed them out of some farmer’s field.
He discovered he did not like raw garlic.
*
He discovered he did not like meat.
There was nothing physically wrong with the ingestion of it, but the idea of it made him feel ill. It felt barbaric, that he should consume another life that had been so much like his own. Furthermore, there was the idea that this creature had been born with a purpose, and that it was to die and be eaten. He didn’t even have a purpose to his existence at all, and he didn’t know who had it worse. He buried the steaks in a small funeral behind the castle.
Joy was sent for broccoli after that.
*
It turned out having thumbs made a difference in preparing broccoli.
It turned out having a knife made a difference in how hard Joy was willing to resist his control. She did not prevail, but that evening meal was a tense one.
*
He discovered that there was only so much he could tolerate of the sensation of boredom. Once the castle had been decorated, and Joy had been decorated, and he had read all the books and scientific journals he could find, the silence was thick as butter in his ears. He decided that if he wanted to actually answer the questions he still had, he couldn’t wait for the answers to present themselves on their own.
The ruins of the old lab were the foundation for his current dwelling. When he considered exploring them further, there was a moment where he unwittingly thought of it as returning home. He was ill all that night, and the nausea swelled anew every time he remembered the slip.
*
He had not expected returning to the lab where he was created to be so…uncomfortable. The scorched stone and still-lingering scent of ozone and vat fluid would likely be here for years yet, and they brought back the memory of violet fire so strong he sank to the ground. He wanted the memory to stop. It had been the first day of his life, and the worst. He dug through the wreckage until he found enough pieces to put together a vat of his own.
He found the notes and journals of his creator. Part of him wanted to crush them into sand, finally obliterate all that remained of that–that–
Well, who was he to call anyone a monster?
Building his own lab was a very good cure for the boredom. Building his own cloning lab, one where he could rewrite the events of that day, and see from every angle what they might have been thinking, was good for everything else.
Joy and her thumbs were not needed for this part. It felt better to do it alone.
*
“Let me go,” she said, as she always did when he came into her cell. Her voice lacked the passion that it had the first couple of weeks. In many ways that was a relief. Tears were messy.
I have a new project, he told her. She sat on her bed with her back against the wall and didn’t look at him.
“I don’t care,” she said. Her voice told him it was true.
You know pokemon trainers, he said. You know who is considered the best. Find them for me. This made her look up in surprise.
“You want to be trained? What for?”
I want no such thing! he snarled. You humans love science so much. I wish to prove something. They are necessary.
“What do you know about what humans love?” she said. Her mouth twisted in a sneer. “You’re a crime against nature. You don’t even have a soul.”
You dare–!
“Oh, you don’t like that? What are you going to do, throw me in a dungeon?”
Silence! She shut up. Her eyes still sparked with an acidic hate, but she was quiet. Humans call themselves the owners of pokemon, he said. Consider what it means to be owned. This was not a command, though he did hope she would do as suggested. Humans were not as adept as he had first thought when it came to thinking about the implications of things they did and said. He might not even exist if they were.
I will summon you when your services are required. If you don’t like this ‘dungeon’ as you call it, ask yourself what a pokeball is like on the inside.
Joy stayed quiet as she had been told to do, but her face reddened, and leaked. He turned his back on the sight, and left her to her own company.
*
She hated him. That was fair. He didn’t particularly care what she thought of him, but when he traced one paw around the port scars on his chest, he did care that he had repaid her assistance poorly. Did he even need to keep her around anymore? He could take care of himself. If he had never had a childhood, he at least had a period of being dependent on someone else for survival.
We all have to grow up sometime, he thought. When the trainers arrived, Joy would leave with them. Perhaps she would be less miserable in someone else’s fiefdom. Perhaps he’d be less miserable here in his, without the burn of her hatred in his mind.
*
On impulse, when he released his servant from her duties, he erased everything. Clean sweep, from now until the day he had lain in the dirt and called for help. She might always wonder what had happened in those months, but it was the only gift he could give her that she might accept.
She ran with the other humans at the first opportunity. He did not stop her.
Mew wanted to know why he was being so slow in following the other pokemon.
It’s nothing, Mewtwo said. I never thought I might envy a human.
Please tag me or give credit if you use this prompt.
A group of whumpers run their operations in an abandoned school building. The classes for the whumpees who live there are as follows:
Science: Whumpees are experimented on.
History: Whumpees are conditioned into believing that their friends/families/teammates never cared for them.
Language Arts: Whumpees write self-deprecating things about themselves.
Math: Whumpees are beaten or whipped and have to count the strikes.
Gym: Whumpees exercise until they pass out from exhaustion. On other days they go through dangerous obstacle courses.
Art: Whumpees have designs carved and branded into them.
Music: Sound torture
Lunch: Whumpees are fed things that people shouldn’t eat.
Recess: Whumpees are forced to hurt each other.
Please tag me or give credit if you use this promp.
Two whumpees escape captivity. Whumpee A can’t see, and Whumpee B can’t walk. A carries B on their back, while B gives A directions.
“Punishments”
Tw: Whipping, Manipulation, Stress Position, Duo Whumpee’s, Forced Look, Captivity Whump, Alcohol Mention, Bruising.
A/n: Hello!
So I noticed that there were some people wanting some more of This Drabble“Caught” I did sometime ago so … *softly drops a part two*✨
I did end up Naming Whumpee A (Avery)&Whumpee B (Bryn)I tried to keep them more Unisex names and still used (They/Them) but it got really confusing half way through. ☠️
× × ×
Whumper softly pressed their lips to their glass, taking a short drink of their preferred brand of whiskey.
The dark amber liquid left a rough warmth as it made its way into Whumper’s system, causing them to feel a bit calmer and more relaxed than their usual abrasive and cold self.
Though only a little,
“Ouch!”
Whumper gazed down at Avery, who was on all fours on the floor in front of them, acting as their foot rest.
It had been nearly several hours now that Avery had been forced to stay in such a position, the cold, hard flooring beneath them only adding to the burning, numbing sensation that had formed in their elbows and knees.
“Something the matter, Avery..” Whumper spoke softly, their words faintly slurred from their mildly intoxicated state.
“Oh no, not at all..” Avery replied with a faint sarcasm that Whumper almost immediately picked up on, as they felt their arms buckle briefly under their own weight.
Whumper narrowed their eyes slightly towards Avery while digging their heels into their lower back, lifting themselves in the chair a bit to readjust their position.
“Agh– Ow!”
“Fuck Off, Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole!?”
Avery spat angrily towards Whumper, narrowing their eyes into a deeper glare, feeling a sharp pain radiating from the area where Whumper had dug into them.
There was a pause. Avery suddenly went dead silent as they lowered their head to the floor.
“P-please I-i’m sorry–” They softly started to whimper.
“Shh–”
“You were warned, Avery..”
Whumper snapped their fingers sharply, signalling his henchmen.
“Don’t! P-please it was an accident, I-i didn’t mean to curse or insult you!”
“Tch, I feel it’s a little late for that. Besides, this little back and forth is starting to bore me, it’s always the same, ‘You’re sorry’, ‘You won’t do it again’ yet here we are. Again.”
Avery looked up again after a moment, hearing the door open, seeing Whumper’s Henchman holding a medium length chain and attached at the end, Bryn.
‘Damn it – Fuck, fuck, fuck! What do I do, I can’t let them hurt Bryn!’
Avery thought in a panic as their eyes locked with Bryn’s momentarily before they were roughly jerked forward, causing them to abruptly lose their footing and fall to their knees.
“Bryn!”
Avery cried out suddenly before feeling Whumper once again dig their heel deeply into their back, causing Avery to let out a painful gasp as they dug their fingernails deeply into their palms.
Bryn weakley gazed at Avery, shaking their heads subtly from side to side as if to try to tell them to stop.
“Well now.. I do believe the deal was that if you misbehaved, Bryn would take the punishment, was it not?” Whumper swirled the whiskey around in a circular motion in the cup, watching it idly.
It took Avery a moment before they quietly murmured their response.
“Yes.. But I–”
“Shut it!”
Whumper raised their voice sharply, slamming the glass on the table beside them, causing Avery and Bryn to both flinch from the loud thud.
“I made it very, very clear to the both of you the second you trespassed onto my property. That is what you became, My property.”
Whumper spoke aggressively with a deep voice while they got up from their seat.
“If at all the both of you owe it to me for not reporting the both of your pathetic asses to the police, do you think you’d still be together then? Not at all.You should be grateful to me!”
Their voice boomed like thunder throughout the room as Whumper walked past Avery towards Bryn, watching their eyes grow with an uneasy fear.
Bryn’s body trembled unconsciously as Whumper approached, their hearts racing in their chests as their breathing became faster, a tightness formed deeply in their throat as they looked up helplessly towards Whumper, who stood only feet away.
“Are you scared, Bryn?” Whumper asked calmly, though there was a light sinister tone behind it that made Bryn’s skin crawl.
“Y-yes, S-sir..”
They replied almost immediately in a lower, shaken tone, almost barely audible to anyone in the room.
Whumper stayed still with an unreadable expression as the tension in the room filled, the air almost too thick to breathe as they slowly kneeled down in front of Bryn.
“Good.”
Whumper smirked maliciously as they reached their hand up, tightly gripping Bryn’s cheeks between their fingers.
“You should be.”
Before Bryn or Avery could say a word, Whumper let go of Bryn’s face before swiftly punching them across the cheek, causing Bryn to nearly hit the floor, though they stayed suspended inches from the ground as Whumper’s henchman held tightly to the chain, choking Bryn.
The impact from Whumper’s fist was hard enough to cause the flesh on the inside of Bryn’s cheek to cut into their teeth, leaving a strong taste of blood in their mouth, filling their senses, while a hot, sharp stinging pain radiated from their cheek.
“Stop! Whumper please, please stop!!”
Avery begged as they watched from their spot.
Every inch of them wanted to run for Bryn and save them from Whumper, but they didn’t dare move from their spot, knowing that if they did, Whumper would only punish Bryn more severely.
Whumper ignored Avery’s pleas as they grabbed the chain roughly from their henchman, giving it some slack, causing Bryn to suddenly drop face first into the floor, hearing them gasp in pain.
“Maybe.. Just maybe you’ll actually learn something this time.”
Whumper didn’t hesitate as they pushed Bryn over onto their stomach, so their back was lying face up.
They raised the loose end of the chain in the air while twirling it a few times before swiftly whipping Bryn across the back, listening to them let out a blood curdling scream of pain as a hot wave of pain washed over them.
Bryn screamed continuously, their voice cracking and weakening over the next several whips.
Their back was burning with a searing white hot pain that numbed their other senses to everything except the throbbing emanating from their backs.
Bryn couldn’t tell if their spine had been broken or not by now with how deep the pain had sunk into them.
Whumper watched their body tremble and twitch under them as they stepped to the side, dropping the chain to the ground while turning his gaze to Avery.
They sat there still, on all fours, petrified with fear and a deep concern for Bryn.
Their eyes widened with fear and shock, watching Bryn’s body suddenly but slowly curl into the fetal position as they hugged their legs tightly to their chest, whimpering and crying out in pain.
“Take it away.”
The henchman, unphased by Whumper’s display, nodded as they walked towards Bryn, grabbing them tightly by the collar while pulling them up forcefully, hearing their cries grow louder as they dragged them out of the room.
It didn’t feel like long before the henchman returned, though this time for Avery.
They stepped closer, roughly grabbing Avery by the hair, causing them to yelp and whimper in sudden discomfort as the henchman started to forcefully pull Avery away from them, leaving Whumper alone in their study.
//
The henchman opened a door after a few minutes of walking down the hall leading to the stairs into the basement, tossing Avery into the room while slamming the door shut before they even made contact with the rough carpeting beneath them.
Avery gasped and grunted as they hit the ground, taking a moment to try to process what they had just witnessed before hearing a soft whimper break the tense silence.
“Bryn!?” Avery suddenly looked up from the ground, seeing Bryn curled up in a tight ball in the corner of the room, slowly rocking themselves for comfort.
“Bryn.. I-i’m.. I’m so–”
“S-stop.. A-avery.. stop..”
They paused, hearing the broken, pleading tone in Bryn’s voice.
“Stop.. what Bryn?”
“T-this!“ Bryn snapped. “A-all this.. I-i can’t.. k-keep c-covering for you.. t-talking your p-punishments.. I-i can’t Avery..”
Avery stared at Bryn with wide eyes.
A deep sting of guilt and pain slowly hit them, causing their chest to tighten as their eyes started burning with tears.
“I’m.. s-sorry..”
“No.. y-you’re not.. o-or you’d just fucking listen.. I-it’s like y-you don’t c-care.. so P-please.. if y-you do.. Stop..”
Avery was speechless as they slowly moved back from moving towards Bryn.
A deep hurt sunk in, causing their heart to slowly break as they backed off more until their back was pressed tightly against the wall behind them.
All they could hear through the bitter silence was Bryn’s soft cries and faint wails of pain, making them feel even more guilty than before..
{End}
Tag List: @painsandconfusion@j-is-evil-28@whumpshaped@uvanuva@suspicious-whumping-egg@whumpasaurus101@whump-cafe@drabbledealer
“Punishments”
Tw: Whipping, Manipulation, Stress Position, Duo Whumpee’s, Forced Look, Captivity Whump, Alcohol Mention, Bruising.
A/n: Hello!
So I noticed that there were some people wanting some more of This Drabble“Caught” I did sometime ago so … *softly drops a part two*✨
I did end up Naming Whumpee A (Avery)&Whumpee B (Bryn)I tried to keep them more Unisex names and still used (They/Them) but it got really confusing half way through. ☠️
× × ×
Neil/Kasey(Echo) Themed Whumpboard #4
Tw: NonCon Implication, Drugging, Needle, Captive, Missing.
Kasey(Echo) Themed Whumpboard #2
Tw: Captivity, Car Crash Implication, forced faked Death.
Kasey(Echo) Themed Whumpboard #1
Tw: Bruises, Blood, Captivity.
June 14th- Counting
Cw: kidnapping, torture, mentioned beating, illness, death mention, fear of death, cell, uhhh cold, idk what else to put here
Whumpee’s hand shook, their fingers flexing around the small piece of jagged stone as they raised it to the concrete wall.
A chill crept up their spine as a frigid breeze blew in from the barred window, goosebumps raising along Whumpee’s sickly skin. The rock slipped from their frail fingers, falling to the floor with a small clatter.
“Shh-hit,” They cursed quietly, head whipping around to the barred door. For a moment, they barely dared breathe as they listened close, praying to whatever force would listen that the guards didnt hear them.
The wardens were not very forgiving whenever a prisoner broke the rules.
Whumpee waited a few moments, their heart pounding as a terrible dread began to fill their chest. Oh god, if they heard- they’d be beaten for sure, whipped even- their body wouldn’t handle that- they couldn’t handle that. They were already sick, already weak. Another beating would be a death sentence-
A small breath of relief slipped from their lungs when they heard no disturbance, but the weight didn’t lift from their gut as they carefully palmed the stone once more, fingers wrapping around it so tightly their knuckles turned white.
Once again, they raised the rock to the cement, pressing the rough edge against the wall.
Ever so slowly, they began to drag their hand down, careful not to move too quickly for fear of giving themself away.
The scraping sound was barely audible, yet still much, much, much too loud.
Whumpee let out a small sigh, pulling the rock away from the wall and gently setting it down. Their eyes flicked over the tally, the newest scar added to the dozens upon dozens which already lined the walls.
Day one hundred and forty-eight.
They couldn’t help but wonder how many more they’d be able to survive.
