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tiredassmage · 10 months

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@jupitcrising | staring back at me

It laces like ice through his chest: this isn’t right. Something’s wrong. Very, very wrong.

The hall’s as familiar as it can be, wreathed in something that rolls like smoke, panels low to the floor and set into the harsh, stone-toned tiles snaking flashes of red and stark white up polished black boots and fitted uniforms. A little slice of Dromund Kaas, wherever you go.

Tyr shifts uneasily in sleep, brow twisting.

Something’s… not right. It’s familiar… It’s not. Uniforms. A glint of sickly green-tinted light off a metal inlay. That’s…

Sparks at the back of his neck - lightning, but physical this time, and racing down his spine, splitting his lips in a silent, but roaring hiss, teeth flashing white in the slim lighting, stark against the looming black halls, sweeping black robes, the dull gray of a uniform jacket.

Wait. The grip around his arms settles in heavy. Two bodies on each side. At least two more - at least one in front, at least two or three behind. His eyes widen. His heels can’t dig against the pristine floors. The resistance is stronger in the durasteel grip tightening around his arms. His grimace turns into a snarl, draws his lips back farther over his teeth, masks for a moment the fear in a bloody kind of defiance.

“Keep him still.” He twists, writhes, tries to throw a shoulder to throw off the way he’s being all but herded, dragged along.

Restless eyes underneath closed lids. Uneasy grip adjusting around the pillows. A sharp jerk of an arm. Twist. Turn. Try to wrench away from the pain.

“Get off,” he finds his voice. A sharp stop, a gloved hand thrown squarely back at him. Heat, a sharp pain, a metallic tang floods his mouth. The restraining hands steady his shoulders from the way his head snaps with the blow and then fingers twist into his hair. The pull’s not gentle. Instinctively, he throws that snarl back across his split lips.

“Spirited this time, are you?” A faceless mask, but he can hear the threat of a smile prowling over the words like a vine cat in the jungle. Robes on this one. Black, red lacing through, long fabric sweeping down shoulders and adding to a solid silhouette still half-shadowed by the lights.

Not for much longer. From smoke and shadow to almost blinding, sterile light.

Three days. Approved for limited use.

“I said, let go of me!” His feet feel solid against the floor this time when he throws his weight back against the push of his would-be captors.

“You were busier than expected, agent. You’ve become quite the liability. Did you think we wouldn't notice your new... alliances?” It doesn’t stop them. There’s too many of them. Resistance hurts, sends fire down his spine, metal biting at the back of his neck until he nearly falters in their hold.

And once he’s down, there’s nowhere else to go.

“Stay the fuck away from me! What are you doing?!” He hates it - the desperation that starts to leak into the words. The restraints bite back at his arms when he pulls. Flared nostrils. Wide eyes. They fix on the threat of a needle glinting in the lab light.

“Settle down. It’s faster if you don’t fight it.”

“Back off! You can’t-!”

“Welcome home, Cipher Nine. Codeword-”

The mere threat is enough to lock up his muscles, the next breath stuttering in his lungs. “Don’t you-! You can't- Not again! Not again!”

It’ll light up like fire in his veins, if they-

Where is he? Where are they? Where is he? If he wasn’t alone. If he wasn’t-

“STAY AWAY-!”

Pressure. Something - another hand? - trying to hold him down. Again. Again?!

Tyr’s eyes fly open, throat aching around the incoherent rage. Void-shrouded faces and blinding lab lights block out his vision. He claws at the first shape he can settle on - technician? Overseer? Inquisitor? Merely the restraints? “I’m not going back! I’m not-!”

They can't take him. He can't take it. Not again.

#( hyroh i loveee youuu i'm sorry i'll. spare you some of the details. maybe )#notecards [rp]#[ic] tyr #implied torture #implied mind control #cw mind control #( sparing us all some of the details bc my heart couldn't take it klandflnsdlf )#cw needles #( and to all of this tyr says: we do NOT want to unpack that )#long post #ish. i am. i'd rather overtag this ksnskfnlsdf

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wardenred · 7 months

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Whumptember 29: "You told me this was the right thing"

Randomly, a sequel to my very first Whumptember snippet.

“You told me this is how we do right. By destroying gods. You were wrong.”

The hero hates how their voice trembles. All this time, and they still brace themself for a scathing comment. A kick to their pride.

They get none of that. Their former mentor just lies there by the wall, motionless, nearly breathless. The hero has to bend down and squint to see the shallow heave of his ribs.

He looks like a broken puppet, the goddess croons at the back of the hero’s mind, utterly delighted.

The hero rather thinks he looks like a toppled statue. They’re caught staring, wondering if the man hears them at all.

The goddess doesn’t say anything more, but she makes her impatience known. It’s in the tension at the back of the hero’s neck, in the spasms in their gut, the ache in their teeth. She wants them to get on with the sacrifice.

I don’t know if I can, they think at her, desperate. He’s...

They don’t know how to encompass everything this man has been to them in a word. It’s not love that keeps their hand away from the blade, for sure. It’s not gratitude.

But it’s something.

It’s something.

Their spine cracks and throbs, the goddess urging them to go on.

He taught me everything I know.

How to fight. How to hate. How to fear. How to be alone.

How to steady their hand and move forth with impossible tasks.

Warmth tingles through their entire body. I’ll teach you so much more, the goddess promises.

They have to believe her. Otherwise, this has all been in vain.

With a ragged sigh, they pull the ritual knife out.

“You were wrong about the gods and the world,” they tell the crumpled body before them, and they believe it, of course they believe it. It’s true, isn’t it? “You were one of those who created the problem... and now you’ll have to be part of the solution.”

They brace themself. They mouth, I’m sorry, and pretend that the goddess can’t hear them; that they can’t feel her distaste.

The first cut, the first scream, the first splash of blood over their hands.

Later, they’re going to be sick.

Now, the second cut.

#warden's random scribbles #whumptember2023 #original fiction #flash fiction #writeblr #snippet #writers on tumblr #my writing #blood on hands #fantasy #horror #implied mind control #cw: torture #build up to it mostly #whumpee turned whumper

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 1 year

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Didn't realize you were also doing ships things for the emoji thing!

I would love Shini/Karai/Leo (or really any combo of these three; I love these three sm) with 🥶Angsty , because I like my angst.

Karai sleepwalks. She didn't used to, not before the brain worm, but now Shini and Leo will wake up as the sheets fall off and find her walking away, or kneeling on the ground, or just standing there, staring in the space. Her eyes are always glowing green and she calls for her father as they guide her back to bed. They know she doesn't mean Splinter.

Shini wants to try spells, but Karai's had panic attacks at the idea of anyone messing with her head since the worm. Restraint doesn't work, considering the fact that she can shapeshifter, and locking the door just makes her feel like a prison. Donnie has a few suggestions for different therapies, but nobody's really about anything that will work.

They haven't lost her yet, but Leo and Shini still have dreams of finding Karai gone. Karai worries about waking up to find them both dead at her hand. Leo's terrified at the idea of trying to fight her again, and Shini worries that if things go really bad she might have to hypnotize Karai without her consent, and she's not sure if they can ever go back from that.

I just want him to leave me alone, she confesses to them, late at night. All they can do is hold her a little bit tighter and promise to always bring her home, no matter what. All they can do is pray the day won't come when she doesn't wake up at all.

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nagisreader · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 3

took a while again

#whumptober 2023 #no.3 #“make it stop.”#original content #oc #fic #implied mind control #implied burning flesh

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ghosts-and-glory · 16 days

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I desperately wanna know what it was like for each of the bishops to gain their crowns. Like they were all children, Shamura was the first. They were alone for a long time until Kallamar came along.

I feel like every time I answer an ask I just leave y’all with more questions. But Shamura, dispute being the first of the bishops, was not alone. They are about 12 here.

I have a headcannon that a lot of Shamura’s game dialogue are phrases that they have said or heard before their injury. Left over fragments from their past that they can’t quite remember yet are still haunted by.

Don’t ask me what happened with the visual style here, it’s out of my control. This is barely even cult of the lamb anymore, I’ve gone rouge.

Comic about Narinder getting his crown here.

Also extra unused panel of Shamura.

#my post #my art #no devotion au #cult of the lamb #cotl #cult of the lamb shamura #cotl shamura #comic #fancomic #comic art #digital art #art #tw suicide mention #Tw death #tw implied death #Tw implied suicide #tw mind control

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goated33 · 2 months

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It’s not my fault! I’m not to blame. It is that wretched girl, the witch who sent this flame!

Inspired by @sharkscene ‘s tags

#to be clear it’s not her going to hell it’s her being terrified of it #heaven isn’t threatening her either she’s just breaking down from fear #vaggies the one ending up in hell after this #this was supposed to be a shitty sketch. again. I need self control I need restraint #ten productive and healthy ways to deal with your severe internalized homophobia! one: Kill Her #[my art]#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #(vaguely)#lute #vaggie x lute #lute x vaggie #fallenwings #…..#luggie #it’s only implied but that Is what it is #Ik what the songs about but it’s real funny to imagine that she had (1) romantic thought about her sparring partner #and immediately freaked out like this #not the cover I initially had in mind but it’s the only fem one I can find that doesn’t. slur #(use a slur. I mean)

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abhainnwhump · 5 months

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Under mind control, Whumpee has no idea what they're doing. Then Whumper sets them free. Whumpee realizes they've done so much damage, they've harmed and killed so many people, they beg to go back under it. At least they won't feel or remember the pain.

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump tropes #conditioned whumpee #sort of #mind control whump #mind control #brainwashed whumpee #implied death #implied torture #sadistic whumper #fantasy whump #magic whump

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galaxygermdraws · 1 year

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I desperately gotta replay Super Paper Mario someday because man this game gets me. Anyways I fully believe that Luigi should’ve woken up in the Underwhere in the Mr L clothes because he was blown up. How did that change his clothes?? I mean Idc I just like the idea of Luigi being so confused why he is in this outfit but never really gettin an explanation til the end of the game.

(reblogs with tags/comment are appreciated. Thankyuuuu)

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nocakesformissedith · 3 months

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First Kill was so funny for the whole Oliver drama

like imagine you have one kid who is always saying the evil things he did weren’t his fault and blaming his sister for them. and that you KNOW this sister is an active serial killer who has literal MIND CONTROL powers. And still being like “:/ stop trying to act innocent.”

#first kill #oliver fairmont #elinor fairmont #the fairmonts #I know the show implies it was not mind control but more regular manipulation/that he wanted to anyway #BUT!! as far as the facts the parents knwo??

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wri0thesley · 2 months

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I am glad that u agree that Sunday has a corruption kink

angel-coded characters have corruption kinks 99% of the time, i don't make the rules. and a well-placed, handsome, well-spoken and polite young leader like sunday? taking into account how suspicious the whole 'family' are? oh, he's absolutely definitely mired in it.

#nat.txt #hsr posting #tell me if i'm off but there's so much vaguely implying the harmony and the family have the capability to use #mind control or at least HEAVY suggestion #and oughhh. that gets the brain whirring #not sfw text

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hood-ex · 6 months

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Having a Homer Simpson "d'oh!" moment because I missed/forgot some pivotal information on the Zur situation that happened a few issues ago.

Zur created Failsafe and erased the memory of how to stop him. He also created a batcave under Bruce's batcave. (Batman #127 / Batman #136)

Bruce literally mentioned that Zur "poisoned the well" and put doubt in Bruce's head and heart. Bruce questioned, "What else has he done?" (Batman #136)

Bruce locked Zur away in his mind, and they were at odds with each other because Bruce didn't want Zur taking over, and Zur wanted out because he perceived Bruce's insecurities and doubts as his mind being "under attack." He wanted out to fulfill his purpose. (Batman #136)

In a flashback, Zur took over Bruce's body without Bruce even knowing. One minute, Bruce was trying to solve a case, and in the next, Zur was doing his own thing. When he gave up control to Bruce again, Bruce simply carried on with his previous thought as if he hadn't been personality swapped at all. (Batman #136)

Zur tried to tell Bruce what to do. Bruce snapped and yelled at him, reminding Zur that he (Zur) was in a cage. Bruce reassured himself, "He's in a cage. I'm in control." (Batman #137)

Now there was a moment in Batman #136 where Bruce started to panic because he couldn't see the future or whatever, so he didn't know how he could save everyone he loved, and he wondered how far he could go before it all burned away.

And then in Batman #137/Catwoman #57, Bruce realized that he no longer owned the manor, and he kinda started spiraling and talking about how even if he lost the manor/his wealth, he wouldn't lose his soldiers.

"They can't be bought. But they can be saved."

Notice the fact that Bruce used the term "soldiers." Because guess what? In Batman #127, Zur referred to Tim and the other members of the family as soldiers, and Bruce angrily corrected him.

"And Tim isn't my soldier! HE'S MY SON!"

SOOO. Do you see where I'm kinda going with all this? Bruce not knowing when Zur takes over? Zur being able to erase memories? Zur using "soldier" in his own dialogue color, and Bruce using the term "soldier" in his own dialogue color? Bruce saying that Zur "poisoned the well."

AND NOW, in today's issue, Zur forcibly took over to try and kill Joker again. And you know what was said?

Bruce: No! I'm in control! I'm--

Zur: You're not in control, we (Zur) are.

BRUCE CANNOT CONTROL ZUR. HE CANNOT. He thinks he can, and he thought he had it under control, but Bruce doesn't have shit under control!

#MAYBE i got it right that first time #the only doubt i have is that zur and bruce do have separate dialogue colors #but if zur is just idk poisoning bruce's mind (like dick or jason or whoever implied) then it would make sense that #we would have bruce's dialogue color but have zur's crazy ideas actually be behind it #like we (readers) are being tricked into thinking everything is bruce's idea but it's actually not #ON THE OTHER HAND... bruce's freak out over his family's safety in 136 does fit with bruce's rhetoric in gotham war #about wanting jason to live a normal life. he wanted to save jason. he wanted to save the family from this whole lifestyle #so that's why i also have the doubts about zur being fully in control during that jason thing #BUT ON THE OTHER HAND--zur wants the family out of the way so that bruce will ONLY be batman #AND GUESS WHO REFERS TO HIMSELF AS JUST BATMAN?? ZUR!!!!#Bruce Wayne #Zur-En-Arrh #Batman 139 spoilers #Gotham War

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short-wooloo · 25 days

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The way people hype up pre-inhibitor chips order 66 is ridiculous, especially when they deem it better and more realistic and "nuanced"

Buuuuuuuuuuulllllllllllshiiiiiiiiiiiit

You mean to tell me that in 3 years of fighting alongside each other, none of the MILLIONS of Clones told the Jedi about the entire series of contingency orders? Especially the "kill Jedi" one? That's silly

"Well the Jedi did know never thought it would be used against them-"

Shut up

That's still stupid

A "kill Jedi on sight" command would be a red flag on principle, but beyond that, it makes no sense for the Jedi to know of it (and it's pretty much impossible for all the MILLIONS of clones to know of it and the Jedi not to know) and not be against it, the Jedi always try to avoid killing as much as they can preferring to take people alive and such, they would definitely be horrified at the idea of an execution in the spot of one of their own, even if a Jedi did betray them

Oh, and the reason people give for why all of the clones comply with the order is silly too

It's always some variation of "they were trained to follow orders"

....

And how is that different from mind control/brainwashing/conditioning?

And lastly, I'll say this

Just because there was mind control doesn't mean there's no nuance

Aside from the trauma the clones may experience from having their minds hijacked, there's all manner of responses they may have

Some might try to cope by ignoring it

Some might not even realize something happened, genuinely believing order 66 was their own choice

And maybe the chips don't actually cause true mind control per say, maybe they just make sure the clones can't disobey, compelling those who resist to follow orders, with those who chose to follow orders being unaffected

#wooloo-writes #wooloo writes #star wars #sw #clone troopers #jedi #inhibitor chips #order 66 #its also not a retcon either #you can very easily read lama su's dialog in aotc as implying there's some manner of modifications in the clones #to say nothing of Sidious in rots #even aside from the trance like state the clones enter when Sidious gives the command #they all acknowledge him as a sith #that makes no sense #unless there's a manner of mind control or brainwashing or sleeper agent conditioning #and the chips make perfect sense for Sidious anyways #WHY would he leave something ike this up to chance?

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 1 year

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ooh something both 🥶 and ⛄️ with any leo?

Hmmm....IDW Leo, because I've love talking about him and I think you once called him your blorbo-in-law, which I love.

🥶 After he breaks free of the Foot and comes back home, he keeps getting lost in the Lair. It doesn't make sense, especially considering how small the lair is, but he'll find himself breaking into Donnie's room thinking that he accidentally locked himself out of his own room and had to jimmy the lock, or he'll somehow keep never quite finding the door to the kitchen and finding up at the exit every time. They have to put a label on the bathroom door because he can't remember where it is.

It doesn't make sense, because even back in his early days at the Foot, he never lost once. He always knew exactly where to go, every time, and he never wavered from his purpose. Now he's left standing in front of a row of doors, trying to remember which one is his, and he feels so lost and broken and damaged he just wants to fucking weep.

⛄️ Leo names, and talks to, all his plants. Not just encouragement or "hi, how are you," he has full-blown, in-depth conversations. He argues with them about philosophy and fighting tactics, he tests out the jokes he thinks might make his brother's laugh, he tells about his secret fears and insecurities, he engages in a very much learned-from-TV kind of self-therapy. Everybody's careful to stay away from Leo against he's in the "green zone" unless they want to walk in on him yelling at shrubbery.

#tmnt #tmnt idw #tmnt comics #idw comics #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo #leo #angst #humor #implied mind control #past mind control #mind control mention #post city fall #city fall #winter ask game #mutuals

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ashintheairlikesnow · 7 months

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The Nightingale's Song

CW: Dehumanizing language, use of ‘it’ as pronoun for nonhuman whumpee, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, intimate whumper, fade-to-black noncon implied, magical whump, captivity, minor side character death

One year after the events of The Seas No More

Gilly, fingers itching to close around the old biddy’s skinny neck, settled for laying the cool compress over her forehead, taking pains to look like nothing so much as the devoted tenant helping his landlady through some terrible mysterious illness.

It had been a very, very long eight months or so since he'd started this little act, feigning devotion and care for the old woman, and it was with very real relief that he finally saw the end in sight.

Mrs. Neumann’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her little yappy dog running circles below her where she was laid out on the chaise in her less-fashionable front room. It stopped, now and then, to lick at her fingers, and then ran in circles again.

“Water, please, Gilly,” Mrs. Neumann croaked, and he smiled solicitously as he tipped the cup to her lips, allowing her only a few sips before pulling it back away. “Thank you, you sweet young man.” Her cold bony fingers closed around his wrist and Gilly suppressed a shudder only with effort. "You have been so good to me, in these hard days..." Her eyes, when they met his, were strangely foggy, as if covered with a sort of film that stood between her and the world. “You have been such a boon to an old woman with no one to care for her. There is some infection, I should think… We must send for the doctor, mustn’t we?”

“The doctor has already come and gone,” Gilly said, leaning close and half-shouting in the hopes she could hear anything he said. Her mouth worked aimlessly, and he gave her more water, although it didn't seem to help. “Do you not remember?” Her hearing had gotten even worse since her illness had taken hold of her - or since the siren's song had convinced her that she was ill, anyway - and soon enough, he thought, all this shouting could finally cease.

“Oh, he did?,” Mrs. Neumann quavered, eyes watering. But then she seemed to forget her emotions and looked to the side. “I suppose so… He must have. Oh, but Gilly, who is singing? The voice is so fine…”

In the corner, Gilly’s siren sang, plaintive and mournful, as he’d been ordered to. He hadn’t wanted to turn his song to Gilly's will, but with a year of careful teaching he had taught the creature to obey him without hesitation, and they were finally ready to put Gilly’s plan into motion.

It began here.

His future would start here at Mrs. Neumann’s sickbed, where beneath the notes of the lovely song were the commands being worked into the elderly widow’s malleable little mind while she burned with unchecked fever.

The doctor came and said there is nothing to be done now but rest. Gilly Wentworth cares for you now. Leave him everything you have. He deserves all you have and more.

He deserves everything.

“He's a friend,” Gilly replied to her question, shouting right against her ear and getting almost no sign she was aware of him at all. Her eyes shifted, moving as if following the notes of Areyto’s beautiful song. The clouds over her irises were thickening. “He sings well indeed! It was a miracle I found him!"

“As the hart on the mountain so was my love brave,” The siren sang, powerful tenor rising and falling. Its eyes were distant, its body relaxed in a way it never was otherwise. But even Gilly could see that the siren loved the act of using its voice, not only for luring wayward sailors but simply to sing at all. “So handsome, manly and clever. So kind and sincere and he loved me so dear - oh, Edwin, thy equal was never..."

“How beautiful,” Mrs. Neumann whispered, lips barely moving. He watched the fog on her eyes overtake them entirely as the spell in the siren’s voice took hold of her. “Oh, Gilly, you have done more than anyone could ever be asked to do for me… it's a pity, what happened with your father… you should have kept your riches…"

“Yes,” Gilly whispered, leaning closer. “Yes, I should have…"

"A pity," The old woman repeated, reaching blindly for him, unable now to see anything but what the siren commanded. "Such a pity… you deserve everything…"

Gilly shivered with anticipation, breathing harder. "Yes, yes, I do…"

Even the little yappy dog had gone silent, now, head cocked with its ears up as it listened, seated on the ground. Gilly wondered idly if the dog would try to give him all its stupid little bones or something, if the siren’s magic could speak to the hearts of animals, too.

It didn't work on animals, everyone knew that. But then it wasn't supposed to work on women, either, and here was Mrs. Neumann wholly ensorcelled by it.

He would have to go see Atabei, and tell her, after this was over.

“You have been such a good and kind gentleman…” She murmured, and he held her hand in both of his, soft papery wrinkled skin cradled between his palms. “I will leave you everything, everything you deserve…”

“Yes," Gilly repeated, more insistently this time, leaning even closer. He could smell her now, the rosewater she dabbed at her neck and wrists each day like clockwork when she rose, the sour note of her sweat beneath. It wouldn’t be long now.

As soon as she signed.

“But now he is dead and gone to death’s bed,” The siren continued, “He’s cut down like a rose in full bloom. He’s fallen asleep and left me here to weep by the sweet silver light of the moon…”

Mrs. Neumann’s mouth had fallen open, a look of serenity overtaking her features entirely but for the clouds over her eyes. Gilly left her for the moment and went over to a table near to the door, grabbing the sheaf of papers there, an inkwell and pen. He returned, settled himself back next to her, and began to speak to her in a soft voice.

She heard, somewhere, deep beneath the deafness that had come on her with age and the siren’s song. The siren commanded her to hear him, so she did.

He explained how important it was that she leave her wealth to someone who would use it wisely, that her friends and the church could not be trusted with it - only Gilly Wentworth, who cared for her so faithfully, deserved her fortune.

She nodded, and wept a little at the selfless nature of such a man, and then she took the pen.

The old woman signed every paper he gave her, her signature unmistakably her own and unwavering, even though she never looked directly at any of the words. He’d had these drawn up himself by a solicitor who had remarked, also, on the fine quality of his friend’s singing, before his own eyes had clouded.

When they had left the solicitor's office, the man had remembered no such song, only Gilly himself, and how kind he was to care so for an old woman alone in the world.

He would file the papers, once Mrs. Neumann finally kicked over the bucket and went on to the endless pile of her previous beloved yappy dogs in the sky, waiting for their mistress to greet them. Really, it wasn’t like she was doing anything with her wealth anyway.

Gilly intended to do quite a lot with her wealth.

“Roll on, silver moon, guide the traveler’s way when the nightingale’s song is in tune,” The siren’s voice shifted, went so painfully sad that tears welled in Mrs. Neumann’s eyes, moved by the mourning the siren could mimic but, Gilly thought, not actually fully feel. “Never more with my lover shall I stray by the sweet silver light of the moon…”

She signed.

And she signed.

When he had all he needed, he put the sheaf of papers back, poured a glass of a scarlet liquid into a crystal cordial glass, and then set it into Mrs. Neumann’s hands, closing her fingers around it. She didn’t seem to notice, frozen in place by the strength and power of the siren’s song.

Smiling, Gilly walked slowly towards the corner where his captive magic creature stood, lit by the strong yellow sun coming in the windows. Despite the immensity of emotion in its song, there was an emptiness in its dark eyes that sent a thrill down Gilly’s spine and pooled a greedy heat within him begging to be released. The sun touched the edges of its black curls and turned them to gold, shone warm on smooth brown skin.

Naked, it was a vision, an ancient statue brought to life by the favor - or curse - of ancient gods. Gilly came to a stop beside it, looking over its finely-formed face, the imprints of his fingers still, eternally, written clearly in purples and reds around the slim column of its neck. His eyes moved down, following the complicated swell of magical symbols that held it firmly in check, bound it without question to his will. The siren looked down and away from him, the song… shifting just a little.

The note of wistful loss that the words called for became something stronger but far more painful to hear, a wailing plea to the heavens for help trapped within its perfect pitch. And yet no help could come.

Not for such a monster, not with the magic keeping it still for Gilly’s every touch, for as long as he commanded it to be.

“His grave I will seek until morning appears and weep for my lover so brave…”

Gilly laid his hand against the siren’s face, palm to its cheek, and its voice wavered a little as its dark eyes closed.

“I’ll embrace cold turf and wash with my tears the flowers that bloom o’er his grave…”

With avid delight and no small amount of desire he followed the trail of a tear that ran down its other cheek and settled at the corner of its mouth. He touched his thumb to the spot and then licked the salt off it. To see the creature at its wicked work was… truly beautiful to behold. To know that it wept because it could do nothing but obey him - him, Gilly Wentworth, just a man in a world full of men and yet now one of the most powerful men alive - was… incredible.

Awe-inspiring.

And they had only just begun.

“Never again shall my bosom know joy,” The siren’s voice dipped to low, a hushed and mournful lament. “With my Edwin I hope to be soon. Lovers shall weep o’er where we both sleep by thy sweet silver light, bonny moon.”

Gilly checked back on Mrs. Neumann, and smiled. She stared off into space, her chest moving fitfully with emotion. The money, the house, the horses even… all of it would be Gilly’s very, very soon.

Really, it was like she was investing in him.

Just like everyone else was going to do.

Pity she wouldn’t see the returns.

“Have her drink what’s in the cup,” He whispered. The siren took a breath and obeyed, changing its power minutely.

“Roll on, silver moon, guide the traveler’s way when the nightingale’s song is in tune…”

Gilly watched as Mrs. Neumann, seemingly in a trance, lifted the cup to her lips and drank it all, swallow after swallow, some of the liquid running from the corners of her mouth to wet her hair and the chaise beneath her.

He smiled.

“And never, never more with my lover I’ll stray by thy silver light, bonny moon…”

The final note hung in the air, as Mrs. Neumann’s eyes slowly closed. She relaxed back into the chaise, her hand dropping, the cup clinking onto the floor and rolling away, the last drops of poison spilling like water to evaporate and leave no trace of themselves behind.

Gilly exhaled, then walked with purpose back to the siren.

It raised its eyes, briefly, to meet his just as he grabbed it by the arms and shoved its back against the wall. A gilded mirror hanging next to it crashed to the ground, cracking into pieces, and the little dog took to yapping again.

It stared at him with naked, unhidden fear.

“Good,” Gilly murmured, an inch from its false man’s face. Uneven breath on its lips, those eyes like pools of deep water locked on his. There were still red welts on its back, new ones thanks to Gilly discovering that even its pain sounded pretty, and he enjoyed the soft sound the siren made as its back was ground against the wallpaper.

He put one hand around its neck, thumb pressing just over its pulse, and felt it flutter and jump under his touch as the siren bared its neck to him, as he had taught it always to do. To defy even this touch would result in a misery the stupid sea creature could not bear. Even the dumbest animals could be trained, after all. Even the stupidest, most stubbornly beautiful man-shaped things could learn.

Its voice was thin and airy. “M-Master-... please-"

“You did wonderfully,” He breathed. “A perfect tool for my will. Now we must find someone to take the dog - it’s irritating but I won’t leave it to starve here, will I? I’m not so heartless as all that - and then we’ll sell the house and the horses and all this nonsense and frippery she keeps… and then we’ll be on our way, won’t we?” He leaned forward, speaking against the siren’s ear just to feel the way its body shivered against his. “You and I. Now. Kneel for me.”

“Yes, master.” Its voice went dull. Its mimicry lost its shine, and everything fell flat from its mouth like heavy stone. It always spoke like that, when he commanded it to its knees.

Gilly didn’t mind.

Behind him, as the poison took hold, he heard Mrs. Neumann's breath go suddenly rapid and rasping, heard her fall from the chaise to the floor, arms and legs rigid, muscles spasming.

It would only last a few moments.

Then she would slip into unconsciousness and finally to her death, and Gilly would be one step closer to everything he'd ever wanted.

He let go and stepped back, watching the siren gracefully sink down onto Mrs. Neumann’s expensive woven rug.

Gilly put a hand in its hair, gripped tight enough to make it whimper with the pain when he pulled its head back. “I need to write a letter to Atabei." His other hand worked at his breeches, and his eyes took in the way the thing shuddered at the sight with greedy, rising lust. "Have to tell her it worked on a woman. I should see if it works on other women... Need to tell Beibei I finally have the coins to come see her for a visit. Be dressed in real finery, for once."

"Yes, master."

"Sssshhh. Open your mouth for me."

He closed his eyes, buried both hands in the siren’s thick hair, and gave himself over to his triumph and the perfect pleasure of the siren’s tears.

Taglist: @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings

Covers @whumptober prompts 13, 14, 15

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 2 years

Note

That last ask reminded me; would love to know the 'conversation' of Tom and Aftran meeting each other for real when she first infests him. What a way to find out your brother is the leader of the Andalite Bandits

Aftran slips inside his skull, and — stops. Holds very still there. She can feel his mind around her, braced for impact.

«Hi,» she says. «I’m Aftran.»

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t appear to be aware he’s being addressed at all, or isn’t sure what to make of it if he is.

«It’s Thomas, right?»

A twitch in response, letting her know she’s guessed wrong. The right answer comes to her without her having to look for it: he goes by Tom. Okay, then.

«Tom,» she says, continues to get nothing in response. «Please, I really need you to stand up now. Or else they’re going to think I’m having compatibility issues.»

Did you just ASK me to stand up, he thinks at her. It’s too exhausted, too impatient, to be a real question.

«Yes. Please,» she says. «I’ll explain everything, but first we have to get out of here.»

I don’t know what they told you, he says, but I’m not voluntary. You can shove ‘please’ up your cloaca.

«I don’t know what they told you, but I’m...» Here goes. «Not exactly loyal to the Empire, these days.»

The fuck’s that supposed to mean.

He is a sullen little shit, isn’t he. She likes him already. «Right now? It means you’ve got one last chance to stand your own body up before I do it for you.»

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t stand.

That braced feeling hasn’t faded, has only gotten worse. Oh. He’s expecting her to lose her shit at him for doing exactly what she just asked him to do, because technically that’d count as rebelling. She doesn’t get the sense he has any idea why she’d be playing this game, but that resigned impatience — waiting for the blow just to fall already so he can get it over with — is perfectly clear.

So she straightens up his legs, bracing his right hand against the floor as she goes. He’s way taller than Karen, and she almost sends them both ass-over-teakettle before Aersa 515 grabs his arm to steady her.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, in Tom’s voice.

Derane 731 holds up the tablet. “No adjustment problems? For a second there it looked like...”

She shakes Tom’s head. Dammit, this would be so much easier if she could just explain... “It’s been a little while since I’ve had a host. No problems so far with this one.”

Derane nods. “All right, so you have to get back to the civilian parents for the evening. Got the address?”

Aftran isn’t going to go looking for it; the plan is to ask Tom nicely to walk them both home. “Yes,” she says, still using his voice.

He’s watching her in wary silence. But there’s a cynical triumph to his mood too; he knew that her alleged principles were going to get dropped the instant he inconvenienced her. And now the inevitable other shoe has fallen: her words are coming from his mouth, his hands are on his hips whether he likes it or not.

«Sorry,» she tells him.

He’d snort in contempt, if he could. Would roll his eyes and tell her to shove sorry up with please.

All he does is toss a memory at her. History class, that old truism: that the worst owners of all were the ones who were kind to their slaves. Because those were the owners who thought they were owed something in return.

Okay, then. Aftran will take that under advisement.

“He’s on a pretty tight schedule,” Derane 731 is explaining, half-apologetically. “We wouldn’t have bothered with him at all, if he wasn’t a witness.”

Again, Aftran nods Tom’s head. It’s a pretty common way for them to get involuntary hosts, grabbing the people who’ve seen too much: an uncloaked Bug fighter, even just the Sharing’s tax records. But the witnesses aren’t special-recruited, so it’s not uncommon for them to be saddled with the inconvenience of civilian families.

Aersa 515 makes a shooing motion. “We’ll see you next cycle, and you can tell us how you’re finding him.”

«Last chance to walk us out of here,» Aftran tells Tom.

No response. If they were two humans, he’d be staring at her in incredulous silence right now. Yeah, she really needs to explain all this, sooner rather than later.

She moves his body easily up the stairs — he really is a lot more capable than Karen — and emerges into the high school. There’s no one around, so she takes that chance to sit him in the nearest unoccupied classroom. Then she stops exerting any control over his body, just to show she’s as good as her word.

They fall off the chair.

«Ow,» Aftran comments. She definitely felt where his elbow slammed the ground.

What did you expect would happen? he asks.

«I thought you were going to catch us! I just said, like, eight times, that I want you to be the one to control this body.»

Which of us is the yeerk and which the human, again?

«It’s your body. And that hurt, for the record.»

Tom watches her in judgmental silence. He noticed that it hurt.

«Can you get up?»

No response.

«Okay.» Aftran makes no move to get them up off the floor. Neither does Tom. «Okay, fine. We’ll do this here. My name's Aftran 942. And I'm here with the Yeerk Peace Movement.»

Still no answer.

«Peace Movement.» She can't tell without digging through his brain whether he's heard of them. «We're trying to end the war.»

Another mental eye roll. More incredulous silence.

«I need your help,» she explains, «Because I’m trying to help Jake—»

You don’t want anything to do with Jake, he explodes at her. Jake’s just some stupid kid, he doesn’t even have a driver’s license, he gets bad grades because he slacks off, he’s always in trouble with our mom—

«Tom,» Aftran says.

He got cut from the basketball team. Did you know that? He can’t even make the JV team in eighth grade, he’s a useless athlete, he’d make the worst host body you’ve ever used—

«Tom, I’m not—»

He’s fourteen and nobody listens to him, so he wouldn’t work for infiltration, I already told you he’s not built for combat, and did I mention he can’t drive? You can’t get anywhere around here if you can’t drive, so he’s basically useless.

«You done?» Aftran asks. His chest is already heaving with the force of his near-hysteria.

Temrash 114 tried to get him to join the Sharing, he already tried that, but Jake went to one meeting and then quit, said that he ‘wasn’t a joiner’ or whatever, which is true, it is, and everybody knows it, which means that if he suddenly did join the Sharing then loads of people would be suspicious, it’d be really weird for him, and if my parents don’t start a whole investigation into the Sharing, which I bet they would, then they’ll lock him up in a juvie hall where there’s no kandrona and you’ll die, do you want to DIE, Aftran? Because that’s what’ll happen if you —

«Will you shut up?» she snaps.

He does, of course. She’s resting against his sensory cortex.

«Sorry,» she says, and again gets that silent flash of contempt. «I promise you, I’m not trying to recruit Jake. If anything, he recruited me. Can I show you what I mean?»

Tom doesn’t say anything. Because she told him to shut up. And, sensory cortex. With a single careless poke, she could convince his brain that every bone in his body is breaking at once. Right.

She’s terrible at this. At least Karen was a blank slate, didn’t expect anything of a yeerk.

«Tom. I’ve met Jake. Talked to him. He’s one of the people who helped change my mind about the Empire.»

Still nothing.

«Has that ever even worked before?» Aftran asks instead, because at least when he was sniping at her they were communicating. «Lying to a yeerk that’s currently in your brain. Has that ever worked, ever?»

It’s not lying, he mutters. It’s misdirecting.

Because everything he said about Jake is, technically, true. Sure.

«Misdirecting,» Aftran repeats.

And then, mental voice so small it barely even exists: I had to try.

Because Jake’s the most likely target, she can see from Tom’s memories. Temrash put Jake at high likelihood of going voluntary, if he could be talked into the Sharing, given the lack of other prospects in his life. She knew objectively that it was Empire policy to start by pulling in hosts’ families if possible, but she never really thought about it from the perspective of the hosts in question. Not until now, when she can feel the sick hollow of horror open in Tom’s chest for the hundredth, thousandth, time. He knows Jake’s an easy mark.

Tom knows, too, that the yeerks have decided his dad is harder to grab but might be worth the trouble, given Steve’s occasional shifts at the hospital. Tom’s done the math, and if he can only save one of them he’ll try to protect Jake, because Jake’s so young, so naïve, that Tom is certain he’ll crack under the pressure—

Aftran jerks back, realizing too late what she’s doing. Getting information from a host’s mind is as easy as turning the pages of a book that’s already resting open in your hands. Only it’s not hers to read. Cassie would probably compare this to going through someone’s diary.

You planning on getting up anytime soon? Tom asks. He has to know what she was just doing, but doesn’t comment on it.

«No,» Aftran says. «Are you?»

Silence. He still hasn’t decided if her offers are a trap, a joke, or a sign she’s the kind of teacher who both insists on being called by her first name and throws textbooks at kids’ heads.

«Can I show you something?» Aftran asks.

I don’t know, can you? Because it’s not like he can stop her.

«May I please show you... everything?» See? She can be nice.

Whatever.

So she does show him all. She doesn’t start at the beginning; she starts with the lede. The part where she infested Cassie, and a thousand things they’d spent the last two days shouting at each other suddenly snapped into place. The part where leaving Cassie and going back to Karen felt wrenching, awful, the contrast between a voluntary mind and an involuntary one so great she could never unsee it. The part where first Jake, then Tobias, then the others all chose to trust her against all logic.

From there, she expands outward in both directions. The yeerk pool before Karen, the indoctrination and monotony while waiting for a host. The yeerk pool after Karen, the suffocating frustration of being trapped in a 40-square-foot pond. Karen. Karen’s laughter. Karen’s confusion. Karen’s desperate pleas to go home.

She’s not sure how long they’ve been there, when she’s done. Tom’s arm is pins and needles from where he’s been lying on it, but the light hasn’t changed.

«Any questions?» she asks.

Um. So many.

«Then...»

The first is a mental image, shoved her way: Jake, mid-morph from falcon to human. What, Tom says. What.

«They call themselves Animorphs.»

The andalite bandits?

«Yeah.»

And Jake’s... with them.

«Jake’s leading them.»

Bullshit.

She can tell, almost as soon as he thinks it at her, that he doesn’t really believe that. More misdirection. Tom’s focusing hard on those bad grades, that mumbled confession about the basketball team. Trying to keep her from noticing how much faith he has in Jake’s ability to command, to strategize and persuade.

«I’m on your side here,» Aftran says, exasperated. «On his side, rather. You’re... they made me take a host. Sorry.»

You’re being honest. And he appreciates it more than her trying to pretend that they’re friends.

«Cassie said that andalite, Elfangor, he gave them all the power to morph.»

What a fucking asshole. Total fucking andalite move, putting human kids in the line of fire.

«I guess he had no choice, and said that someone has to protect the Earth.»

He’s lucky he’s already dead. That’s all I’m saying.

«Anyway. However it happened, there’s six of them and now Jake’s in charge.»

I hope it hurt, when he died. It looked like it hurt.

«Tom. Elfangor aside. Can we please, please just get off the floor?»

Oh, and you’re just going to let me do that?

She shows him what she’s planning. To let him do the walking, the talking. To ride along inside his body, not because she thinks it's right but because the alternative risks giving up the Animorphs to Visser Three’s torturers.

I’m not going voluntary, he tells her again.

«I’m not expecting you to.»

Then, what? he demands. You’ll just sit there while I run out into the street and start screaming that there’s an alien in my brain?

«That’s not the worst idea,» she says slowly, «but we might want to check in with Jake first. See if he has any suggestions.»

Because fucking Elfangor put him in charge of the fucking planet. When he was thirteen.

She’s sensing this is going to be A Thing with him. Fine.

I’m getting up now. Just so you know. Back to sullen.

He moves, then. Shifting his knee under him, clumsily bracing his right arm and leg against the floor. He stands.

Aftran watches him.

So that’s how it’s going to be, he says.

«I hope so.»

I still don’t trust you, he informs her. He is, she can tell, weighing the merits of that running-and-screaming plan.

What would Cassie do? Aftran wonders. But she already knows the answer. «You don’t have to trust me yet,» she says. «I’m going to start by trusting you.»

Aww, gee, letting me stand up all on my own. How can I ever repay you.

«Not,» Aftran says, «what I had in mind.»

They’re in a Home Ec classroom. She points his gaze at the wall sink. At the row of mason jars next to the sink. And she lets him know what she’s thinking.

Tom’s head jerks back in surprise, jarring her. You’re nuts.

They met less than an hour ago, and she’d be putting her life in his hands. Literally. Once she’s out of his head, with no other controllers present, it’d be as easy as breathing for him to close his fingers around her and crush her. Easier still for him just not to bother filling the jar, so that she’d suffocate in a matter of minutes. Easy for him to hurt her, to kill her...

Almost as easily as she could hurt him now, could kill him in seconds.

But she doesn’t have a better idea for how to level the playing field.

«Well?» Aftran says, trying to sound braver than she feels. «Aersa said you have to get home. And I assume you have questions for Jake.»

Tom takes a breath. Completely nuts. Utterly, totally, bonkers.

«Takes one to know one,» she says. And then, feeling as if stepping off a cliff over a hundred-foot fall, she starts to detach from his brain.

#animorphs #animorphs ficlet #aftran 942 #tom berenson #animorphs au #long post #mind control #implied torture #implied child abuse

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