Cw: threatened eye trauma

capturing and restraining a powerful hero by using a hostage

Hero was a force of nature, tearing through enemy after enemy without ever faltering or breaking a sweat. They were the distraction, a rampaging beast to draw enemy attention while Teammate grabbed what they came for.

Their awareness of the battlefield was perfect, so when they heard a pained gasp in a familiar voice, it caught their attention immediately.

“Stand down, everyone.”

At Villain’s order, the forces around them forced themselves to lower their weapons and step away, limbs shaking from adrenaline. Hero itched to take advantage of the openings they were all presenting, but they forced themselves to stand still, attention on the Villain who had entered the room.

In Villain’s arms, hands behind their back (bound!?), was Teammate. Their head tilted back at an uncomfortable angle, making room for the knife ever so slightly digging into their neck. A gag sat between their bared teeth, digging into their cheeks and pushed slightly forward by the wad of cloth that seemed to have been shoved into their mouth. Their nostrils flared with the deep breaths they were unable to take with their mouth. Their eyes, tears glinting at the corners, were filled with fire, darting furiously from Villain’s cocky smirk to Hero’s darkened expression and back again.

Villain grinned.

When the villain first entered the room, they didn’t speak. Instead, they walked to either side of Whumpee, inspecting them, gaze wandering up and down, lingering on the chains at their wrists and ankles. Whumpee made sure to stand up tall and proud, doing their best to communicate a lack of fear, though they couldn’t stop their eyes from tracking the villain’s movements. They longed to lunge forward, to defeat their opponent with a single mighty blow and run, but they’d already learned that the chains would easily halt any such attempts. The bruises under the cuffs were proof enough of that.

Finally, the villain came to a stop in front of Whumpee. When Whumpee met their eyes, they smirked.

“Kneel.”

Whumpee couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Kneel? You lot are even more foolish than I thought if you think I would follow even one of your commands.”

The smirk grew into a grin. “Oh, I am not the fool here, hero.” The villain pulled a radio from their belt and spoke into it, still smiling. “It seems our guest hasn’t realized what’s at stake here. Make sure to kill one civilian during your patrol tonight. Someone who won’t be noticed, of course.” With a click, the radio turned off and was returned to the belt.

Whumpee’s next breath caught in their throat. They went to step forward, but the chain caught and they stumbled, nearly falling. Their eyes were wide. “No— no! Why would you..? This is a trick, isn’t it. A lie. There’s no reason for you—“

“Oh, you know that’s not true, hero. Haven’t you been keeping up? My reason is right here.”

They paused for a moment, allowing Whumpee to come to the realization that there was little reason to doubt the validity of the threat. They shivered, steeling themself once more.

“Now, unless you’d like to test me again, I believe I issued an order.”

Whumpee lowered one knee, then the other to the floor, glaring at Whumper all the while. They looked up at whumper to find an expression filled with both violence and affection. Swallowing felt difficult, as though they were going to choke.

Whumper stepped forward, resting their hand softly on Whumpee’s shoulder, then letting it creep towards their neck. Light fingertips turned to fingernails digging into skin. They were standing more than close enough for Whumpee to knock them out, search them for a key. That would probably be the best course of action. They could escape, come back immediately with a team. Take down the villains before anyone else could be hurt.

But…

Would the villains be careless enough to let them escape that easily? Maybe not.

Still, heroics often meant weighing risks. Maybe people would be hurt if they were caught escaping, but knowing this group, allowing them to roam free was even more dangerous, down the line. They couldn’t let threats stop them from taking these villains down. And they really, really wanted this person to stop touching them. They were feeling sicker every second.

They swung up their hands and slammed them to the sides of the villain’s head, dazing them, then pulled the chain tight around their neck, waiting, waiting, one hardly breathing and the other not at all, until finally they could be certain the villain was unconscious. They checked for breath, then a pulse— still perfectly alive— then searched the belt for keys.

Then the jacket.

Then the pockets of their pants.

Then……

Someone young and scared came to pull the villain out of the room shortly after, making sure to stay out of reach. Whumpee didn’t move, keeping their hands still and gaze lowered.

They weren’t surprised when Whumper reentered what must have been hours later, though no bruises were yet showing behind the scratches at their neck. They’d anticipated anger, but instead, Whumper was chuckling as the heavy door closed behind them.

“Well shame on me I suppose for expecting you to be smarter than that. Live and learn, as they say. Speaking of which.”

Whumpee had been feeling their heart beat as surely as they felt the cold of the floor for hours. As they watched Whumper reach into their pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper, they felt it beat faster.

Whumper held out the paper. Reluctantly, Whumpee stood up to grab it, took a step away and cautiously unfolded it.

A body.

A photo of a body, lazily printed out in low quality on ordinary paper. A dead body, wrapped in blankets and huddled up against a brick wall. Sleeping, if not for the dark stain of blood, shining under the flash of the camera.

The paper was shaking. Their hands were shaking. The paper began to tear under the strain of their grip and they suddenly let go, watching it drift to the floor.

“I trust you’ve learned your lesson. I’m afraid you’ll be receiving five more pages like that one, due to your little stunt, but I’m optimistic that there will need to be very few after that. Ink is expensive, after all. Now then.”

The villain once again stepped within Whumpee’s reach, seemingly completely unconcerned about any sort of danger to their person.

“Kneel. A bit more enthusiasm this time, please.”

There was a crack as Whumpee’s knees collided painfully against the floor, and after only a moment’s hesitation, they lowered their forehead as well, fingers splayed at either side of their head against the cold concrete. They forced themself to take deep breaths, keeping down the bile but unable to stop the tears that now sprung their eyes.

When Whumper began petting their head, they failed to suppress the first shuddering sob.

TW for self harm, but not really.

I know that it's pretty common to have characters scratch at their skin and things like that in whump situations, so I thought it might be helpful for some writers to get insight into one potential reason someone might do this:

Dermatillomania [https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/22706-dermatillomania-skin-picking] is a skin picking disorder, commonly associated with anxiety and ADHD and probably other things too. I have it, so I think it's fair game for me to talk about in relation to whump and angst.

Dermatillomania is basically the urge to pick at skin blemishes. Pimples, scabs, fingernails, maybe stray hairs, anything. It almost always makes these issues worse, and especially with scabs it tends to make things more painful in the end, and can even cause bleeding. My dermatillomania tends to be worse when I'm stressed or understimulated, so I imagine that if I were, say, a stressed-out prisoner with nothing to do, that my dermatillomania would get pretty bad.

Ooh, and imagine if the whumpee was supposed to maintain their appearance, and the whumper caught them damaging their face.

I will note that I would not personally categorize dermatillomania as self-harm, or at least not as the most commonly known kind of self-harm. The intent (to the extent that intent is present in the behavior, which varies) is to relieve anxiety and boredom/understimulation, not cause pain.

If anyone has any further questions, I can answer them. Askbox is also open I think.

(Btw, trichotillomania is hair-pulling disorder. Don't really have that one, but I imagine the reasons for the behavior are probably similar)

On being lifted by your hair

Starting by saying that I am a white person with very thin-stranded hair.

As someone who has had my hair pulled pretty badly in the process of getting my hair put into a ponytail before, here is what I know about what this might feel like and how it might impact a person:

Getting your hair pulled hurts. It pulls at the skin of your scalp in a pinchy sort of way, and then leaves your head sore afterwards. Even slight pulling (like from, oh, a ponytail) over an extended period of time can leave you with a headache and a sore scalp depending on how sensitive your head is.

I have been told that your scalp can adjust to wearing tied-back hair over time, so someone who frequently wears their hair in a ponytail, braid(s) etc. might have a little more resilience.

(side note— if your whumpee is in more of a pet/model servant etc. kind of situation, being required to wear their hair tied up could provide a subtle pain/discomfort that is also somewhat symbolic of their mental pain from the control)

But that’s just the pain from tying your hair back. Take how painful such a simple thing can be, and then realize that we are now pulling with the weight of a person. Not only would it be extremely painful, you’ll probably lose some hair in the process. It might leave a person bleeding. You’d be left with a terrible headache, I’m sure.

Though apparently it is possible to get away from something like this physically unscathed, there’s a kind of circus act that involves hanging by your hair:

But even if you get to keep your hair, it’s still gonna hurt like hell.