#captivity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashintheairlikesnow · 22 hours

Text

To the Depths of the Sea

Bones in the Ocean Masterlist

CW: I don’t know, man. Siren commits a murder? This is out of order, timewise, but it's what wanted to be written, so...

His name was different, then.

It was not a clumsy tongue against the roof of a small mouth, flat teeth and full lips mouthing animal grunts without melody. Back then, his name was a lyric, a new line in the sirens' endless, ancient song.

His very being was a scale of perfect pitch. Sirens sang together, notes dancing up and down that mortal mouths and lungs could never recreate. He and his mother and his sisters sang in harmonies, children of the goddess of moon and tides, the wild water-woman who could turn a calm sea to turbulent waves in an instant.

He was born, at some point long ago. Borne by his mother, with his sisters huddled around her to be a dozen midwives, while the moon shone on the rock and the goddess watched. Born, yes, but he did not age, his wounds healed, he did not die.

Time shifted around him, like it did for all of the gods’ children.

The waves slapped the sand, sirens sang on rocks, and ships came and brought the men who heard their song. The men who steered their ships, unseeing and smiling, into the reefs to shred them apart, so that their bodies could be given to the sirens, and after that to the sea.

The ships changed, with time. The clothing the sailors they tore into wore changed, the style of shoe, the weight or shape of a sword and finally of the strange rifles. All these things changed.

The sirens didn’t.

They remained the same.

The siren boy had been sunbathing on the beach that day, eyes closed. The heat of the day lay over his brown skin like the humans’ heavy blankets, lulling him into a dreamless doze. Somewhere nearby, his sisters sang for their supper, having seen a ship hovering at the horizon.

But the siren boy was not alone. He was not the only one on the island to hear the song.

His eyes snapped open when he heard the softest crush of footsteps on underbrush. An animal, he told himself, even as he pushed himself up on his elbows, turned to see, half-hidden in the shadows just back from the beach, a human man staring back at him.

The human man’s hair was tangled and dirtied, hanging in clumps over his face. Mud had dried on his face and his shirt was worn nearly to shreds. He must have survived a past wreck, somehow slipped through the sirens’ fingers. Been here since then, wandering the island. He must have somehow held out against the siren song’s pull.

The man’s mouth moved.

He was whispering, but the siren was too far to hear him, leaning against a palm tree’s heavy, narrow trunk to stay upright. There was something wrong with one of his legs, the pants were torn but nothing was there beneath the tear.

The siren got slowly to his feet, tipping his head to one side. His curly black hair shifted, shadowing his own eyes as he moved soundlessly over the burning sand, where driftwood bits of broken ships lay in dried, bleached lines around him, their companions the scattered bones of the sirens’ meals.

Human voices, so flat and featureless, disgusted him.

But the eating would be good, and then the man's foul flat voice would stop interrupting the melodies.

“Monsters,” The man was whispering, but the siren didn’t know this word. He didn’t know any of their words. He knew what those throats tasted like, though, beneath his teeth. “Th-this island is made of monsters… You’re not a boy-... y-you’re not-”

The siren took one step, and then another. Each step sank his foot slightly into sand, brushed against shell and stick, rock, bone, and wood. Each movement a hypnotic sway, and he licked at his dry lips as his mouth watered for the meal.

His sisters’ song was all around them, and yet the man didn’t fall to it.

Their eyes met, then. The man’s were a faded blue, like the sky when the sun nearly bleached out all its colors with no clouds to subdue its power. His skin was like dried animal hides, wrinkled and tough. All bones and sinew, no real meat for the eating.

It didn’t matter.

All men were meals.

“They-... they said there was gold here.” The human’s whining voice, like a child, grated on the siren. Some foul mockery of the beautiful way the sirens spoke to each other, all out of tune, off-key. Not a song at all. This man’s name would be like the harsh screech of the birds the sirens ate during starving times, when there was nothing else.

There was no song in this man.

“There… isn’t any gold, is there?” The man’s voice tipped upwards, but the siren ignored it. He was so close he could smell the man, human odor of sweat and blood and something rotten where his leg used to be. The man was trembling, voice and body shaking together. He closed his eyes, slowly, and lifted his chin as if offering himself for the taking. Even so, his lips still moved in pointless speech. “It was a-a trick, a lie-... there was no gold here…”

The siren was on him.

He took him down onto his back, the underbrush soft beneath them. A flock of birds took flight with their cries an echo of the siren’s own triumphant song, one that buried itself in blood. A hundred teeth sharper than a shark’s tore out his throat, devoured skin and muscle, picked clean bones. The siren’s melody as it rejoiced in the meal was a sharp thing, rending apart the man’s soul and sending it to be held by the ocean, like all men who died to sirens and the sea.

His prey never fought him.

But it whispered, once more, with dead sightless eyes and unmoving lips, monster.

The siren woke.

He was not in the sun-warmed sand or roaming the island he had always known, his sisters and mother beside him. He was in a cool pool of pointless water hemmed in on all sides by stone, the high windows mocking him with the world he could not escape. The dream was already fading, and the memories of who he had been, more than a century ago, faded with it.

He lost himself, every time he woke.

He found himself only in sleep.

Areyto rolled aimlessly onto his back, staring up at the ceiling whie he floated in the water. He could feel the tingle of the power in the marks the magicians made, each decade, that kept him captive to his master’s whims. He could feel how the marks drained his memories away, the ones he could see in dreams but that were lost to him after. He floated there feeling his sisters fade to little more than shadows, a thought he'd had once. Maybe never real at all.

Moonlight shone, diffused by the windows so much his goddess could not have heard him, no matter how he cried to her. Areyto had long since stopped crying, anyway.

What use was pleading if no one could hear you, and those who could would only mock you and take yet another part of you away?

Like his name.

The magic made sure he couldn’t remember it.

Come.

His master’s command came like an oil slick in the water, slithering slime over his bared skin and pushing him from the water. He shook himself and went, step by step, to the door that was already being unlocked to allow him to leave - but only to go where he was ordered, only to do whatever vile thing his master demanded. The butler on the other side looked through him, saw something else. Saw whatever the master wanted him to see.

As the siren moved through this endless hell, the moon that had shone on him where he slept in the pool shifted behind a cloud. The goddess left him, and his half-formed prayers. It was all lost, everything that did not belong to Guilford Wentworth was gone.

Come, Areyto.

Not his name.

But the name he had been given, and must answer to. The name layered over the song, the lyric he had once been. The piece of the harmony that had belonged to him, just on the tip of his tongue, never coming together.

The melody of his identity had been stolen, replaced with the flat human syllables he went by now. A shrieking off note, a sharp staccato. His master had stolen his name, as surely as he had stolen Areyto’s life.

As surely as Areyto would steal it back.

However small his master had made him, his teeth were still sharp, and his claws were still keen to tear human skin apart. The marks would fade, if he could only keep them from being remade yet again. The power that held him here would crack apart beneath his fury, if the human magician would help him. Her voice held the edge of a song even in flat human words.

Areyto didn’t understand it, yet, but he knew what the song meant even if he didn’t know the melodies.

Hope.

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee @angelsproject

#whump #whump writing #captivity #original writing #original fantasy #siren whump #sirens #siren #male siren #magic whump #fantasy whump #original work #original character #memory loss #bones in the ocean

20 notes · View notes

vintagewildlife · 11 months

Text

Thylacines sunbathing at the Hobart Zoo By: Unknown photographer Unknown year

#extinct #captivity #thylacine #marsupial #mammal #1900s #1910s #1920s #1930s #i mean it's gotta be one of those decades ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

14K notes · View notes

diamond-flavored-whump · 8 months

Text

Best ways to restrain your Whumpees (a subjective scale)

Tied to a chair: 7/10. Classic, gets the job done. Rub their skin raw while you're at it.

Cuffed to the chair: 9/10. The more cuffs the better. Sure, cuff each wrist to an arm chair. But what if you also cuffed their wrists together with just enough slack so their circulation doesn't cut off? ... what if you didn't give them enough slack? What about their legs?

Chained to the chair: 4/10. Oppressive weight is nice and all, but unless you know what you're doing, these are easy to slide off and best used alongside other methods.

Strapped to the chair: 6/10. Better suited for impersonal settings.

Duct taped to the chair: 7/10. Potential 9/10 if you rip the tape off every time you move them. Do you do it hard and fast, listen to their sudden scream? Or do you do it slowly, savor each pitiful little whimper?

(Surgery required) Put magnets in their wrists: 9/10. Make them try to lift their arms, only to feel like their skin is ripping from the inside. Make sure they know you put the magnets in there. Nothing that will make them sick, you reassure. Just making sure they can't go anywhere without you un-magnetizing the arm rests.

Chained to the wall: 7/10. How much room do they have? Is it only one wrist, both on the same chain? Each one on opposite sides of the room? What about ankles? Do their steps rattle? Can they toss and turn in bed without making any noise?

Chained/cuffed to the floor: 10/10. Absolute humiliation. Forced to kneel, bow their head, cower like a dog before you. Their restraints holding them down every time they try to rise against you, reminding them of their place.

Ankles chained to a pole: 6/10. Oh sure, you can run. You just can't go very far. An interesting idea, but overall mediocre.

Leash wrapped around a pole: 8/10. Leave your pet unable to wander too far, perhaps keep their food bowl just out of reach. Make them dependent on you for bathroom breaks, food, and water.

Tied to a beam/pole: 8/10. How big is the pole? Are they tied so tight that all they can do is squeeze their shoulder blades together, and every time they try to relax the ropes tug them back? Is it large enough that their entire arms can wrap around it? A little too big for that? Did you tie up their feet as well?

Tied horizontally to a beam/pole: 9/10. So many ways this could go! Arms and legs above them like they're a pig on a spit, or one of those rotisserie chickens in the grocery store. Arms below, facing up, like they're laying in bed. Forced to look down at how high up they are, unable to do anything to get down.

Dangling by their wrists: 8/10. Once again, a classic choice. Rope or cuffs work here.

Dangling by their hair: 2/10. Not a long-term solution, hair will be pulled out. Only works with certain Whumpees. Only suited for short-term punishments.

Dangling by their neck: 7/10 if done right. Once again, a temporary solution best used to scare and threaten your Whumpee. I cannot overstate that you must be careful with this method if you like to reuse Whumpees. Remember to let your Whumpee down once they pass out!!

Dangling by their leash and collar: 6/10. Same concerns as above.

Dangling by their waist: 4/10. Has some potential, but have not seen it used much if at all.

Dangling by their ankles/feet: 5/10. A good way to disorient and weaken your Whumpee, but must be used in moderation. Excessive blood rush to the head can cause permanent damage and makes your Whumpee less fun to play with.

Standing in water: 4/10. A good short-term punishment, but can cause loss of toes and even feet of water gets too cold. Proceed with caution.

Gags: 9/10! Good for defiant Whumpees, Whumpees in transport, ones who can't learn the lesson not to speak. Just remember to take it off when you want to hear their screams.

Small rooms, holes in the ground, boxes: 8/10. Less about restraint, more containment, but still gets the point across. They cannot escape you, no matter how much they wish to.

I reiterate, leashes: 10/10. Hold their leash at all times, and you'll know when they try to run away.

#whumpblr #whump #whump scenario #your whump words of the day #whump writing #whump tropes #whump prompt #whumpee #whumper #restrained #captivity #captive whumpee #pet whump

1K notes · View notes

jump-in-the-whump · 3 months

Text

Whumpee doesn’t really understand what is going on, everything is happening so fast and their head is pounding so bad.

“hey, can you hear me? Whumpee?” A voice calls out their name. Whumpee raises their head.

“i-i... don’t... understand....i-i...” Whumpee rasps out, before a coughing fit interrupts him.

“shh, don't force yourself too much. I'll explain everything later, now I'm here and I just wanna help you, ok?”

Whumpee is in so much pain, it's hard to breathe. They’re so weak, they lean onto Caretaker, drowning in their quiet words and soft movements. A tear escapes Whumpee’s eye. It's been so long since they were treated like this, like a human being.

"Caretaker..... " Whumpee manages to say, with a weak, raspy voice.

“Yeah, that's right, I am Caretaker. I am here and I won't let them hurt you anymore..." Caretaker whispers, hugging Whumpee, caressing their dirty, greasy hair. Whumpee winces in pain and can't help but cry, the happiness and comfort are too much for them to manage.

#whump drabble #whump prompt #whump scenario #whump community #caretaker #whumpee x caretaker #weak #captivity #hurt/comfort #rescue #whumpee #whump #ptsd #jump-in-the-writing

503 notes · View notes

whump-bunny · 1 month

Text

Thinking about Whumpees in neighboring cells. They have never seen each other's face, but they can talk to each other through the grate in the wall. They keep each other sane, and make life just a little more bearable.

Until one day, when the other Whumpee doesn't answer.

#whump #writing #whumper #multiple whumpees #captivity

347 notes · View notes

whumblr · 1 month

Text

I, too, like the trope 'forced to listen' with hearing agonising screams from the room at the other side of the cell block.

But I'd like to raise with:

Hearing a single gunshot followed by earth shattering silence from the room at the other side of the cell block.

#whump #whump tropes #I just love the finality of a single gunshot #bonus when fake execution #whump prompt #whumplr #implied death #implied murder #captivity #captivity whump #my prompts #my writing

364 notes · View notes

oddsconvert · 8 days

Text

Whumpee's who call Whumpers by their actual name!!!

I live for it!!! How much more personal is it to call your tormentor by their name, to recognise that this monster is actually human too? 😍 There's no disconnect between whumpee and whumper, pet and master etc. There's that extra level to their relationship, a closeness whether they want it or not.

Or maybe it's in a moment of cheeky defiance, daring to call whumper by their name. Or a moment of pleading and desperation, trying to tap into Whumper's sympathy. Or an intimate whumper, a whumper forcing whumpee to be in a relationship with them - of course, they'd call each other by name!

I just think it has so many connotations to it hehe.

#It is SOOO good #I love me some 'sir' 'master' but #I will never pass up on this #whump prompt #whump thoughts #whump ideas #whump #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump blog #whumpee #whumper #captivity

220 notes · View notes

hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 1 month

Text

An Offer You Can't Refuse- Part 2

Part 1

Hero woke up to the feeling of being watched. The weight over their eyes had been lifted, and their restraints had been removed as well, judging by how they were sprawled out in bed. Bed? This bed felt much bigger and softer than their own bed. The feeling of being watched grew stronger. Who cared whose bed it was- who was watching them!? Hero’s eyes snapped open, darting around the room until they landed on- oh. Right. Them. That. This.

“Good morning, Hero,” Supervillain said softly, “I must admit, you slept so long I was worried they had overdosed you, but you seem to be alright. That’s good.”

Alright? Alright!? What about this was alright!?

“Do you often make a habit of watching people sleeping?” Hero blurted.

Did they really just say that!? Hero’s heart hammered in their chest. This was Supervillain they were talking about- one false move and they were dead. No, scratch that, death would be a mercy- surely someone like Supervillain was an expert at dishing out fates worse than death-

Supervillain just chuckled.

“No,” they said, “but after eighteen hours and no sign of you waking, I did want to check up on you. That couldn’t have all been the drugs, I’d wager. Were you overworking yourself before you were abducted?”

“Eighteen-” Hero started.

“Technically twenty-five if we’re being specific,” Supervillain said, “your little snores are quite cute, and did you know you sleep-talk?”

Hero blushed in embarrassment. More than flustered, they felt confused. Supervillain had bought them for… however much they paid for them (Hero couldn’t quite remember) and now they were waking up in a lavish bed while the mastermind made small-talk about the whole thing?

“Are you hungry?” Supervillain prompted.

“Confused.” Hero admitted.

Hero’s stomach didn’t like that answer, and it growled loudly in protest. Supervillain smiled knowingly.

“I’ll have my chef make you something,” they said, getting up, “It would be in your best interest not to leave this room.”

Supervillain left the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Hero waited until their footsteps faded into silence. They sprung out of bed and tried the door. Locked, of course. Hero formed a small icicle in their hand and started to pick the lock. After a couple seconds of picking, the icicle snapped in two. Right, well, time for something more aggressive then. Hero forced the door down with a blast of ice. Stepping over the now-warped door, they looked around for the nearest exit. They ran down a hallway and past a few different doors, before reaching a grand staircase. They checked both ways for signs of Supervillain, then descended the stairs at a breakneck pace.

They realized, as they were rushing to freedom, that they weren’t wearing any shoes. In fact, their entire suit had been replaced by silk sleepwear. Oh well, they’d just have to make a new one when they got out of here. Their hand was on the front doorknob when a rough force yanked them backwards.

Hero yelped in surprise. They craned their neck to see a large, muscular person behind them. They had an earpiece and a small microphone hooked up to them.

“Got ‘em,” they said, “taking them back now.”

The henchman started to drag Hero back by the arm.

“Hey, let me go!” Hero shouted, forming cold energy in their hand and hurling a snowball at the henchman.

“Gah- why you-!”

In shock from getting a snowball to the face, the henchman had let go of Hero, who was now making another run for it.

“C’mere you-”

Hero turned, anger burning in their eyes. If it was a fight this bozo wanted, it was a fight they were going to get. And Hero was going to win.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @morning-star-whump @crotchgoblin69 @books-are-everything @worstcasescenariolullaby

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #whump #hero x villain #snippet #heroes and villains #captivity #drugging mention #hero x supervillain #I'm so excited about this series guys you don't understand #an offer you can't refuse #hufflepuffwritingstuff2

213 notes · View notes