WIJ Day 9

“Look at me.”

CW: military whump, vague allusions to minor whump, promise of torture, torture being normalized, choking

Kai was perfectly confident in their ability to stand at attention for a few hours, and they didn't worry about the pressure of an officer slowly walking by, looking for something he could criticize in every person. Kai stood in the front row of the formation, shoulders relaxed and breath even, trying to remind themself this was familiar and no different from what they had down for twelve years at school, even as the officer passed in front of them and gave them a hard look.

He walked past them and stopped, and Kai knew better than to breathe a sigh of relief, not wanting to draw attention to themself when he was still so close. “Look at me,” he commanded, putting his hand on the well-oiled whip clipped to his belt.

They saw the cadet’s head dip out of the corner of their eye as her gaze dropped down to the whip, swallowing before opening her mouth to answer. She didn’t get a chance, however, when the officer raised his arm and slapped her with the same force that Kai could imagine him swinging a whip.

They knew she didn’t see it coming. She stumbled, her body twisting as she bumped into Kai. Kai wondered if the officer had done this on purpose, remembering the look he gave them earlier, and in the same instant they managed to grab the other cadet’s arm without moving their shoulders, helping her regain her balance in the most subtle way they could manage, hoping the officer wouldn’t notice.

"I said look at me, cadet. You are not going to make it very far if you can't even follow a simple order."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir," She replied quickly, turning her face to him.

The officer hummed in approval. "Good." He waited until she relaxed before smiling and raising his voice so the entire group could hear. "This is a great example to show everyone how punishments will work, don't you think? Thirty lashes, tomorrow morning before training begins."

He walked on after that, ignoring her shaky response, looking for the next target to terrorize. Kai kept their gaze forward, listening to the proceedings behind them as each cadet hoped they wouldn't be picked out, and those who were answered nervously. It was easy to zone out, not completely of course, but they only took stock of the words they heard, not thinking about them any deeper than they had to.

It had seemed like the officer was about done, when he once again returned to the front and his gaze settled on Kai. "You," he pointed at them, taking a step until he was right up in their face. "Look at me."

"Yes sir." They carefully dropped their blank stare straight forward, turning until their face was toward the officer, and their eyes looking slightly down, just barely avoiding eye contact. They had learned early on what the boundary between respectful and provocative was when you looked at a superior.

"You seem experienced," He looked in their eyes for any sign of uncertainty, but he was right, Kai was experienced with officers just like him, and they've had years to learn what they liked best. "Your name, cadet?"

"Kai Waykes, sir!" They projected their voice slightly, answering in the tone that they knew was expected of them when an officer asked them a question on parade. They found themself tensing as they wondered what his response to that would be.

"Hm." He nodded as if he just heard something interesting that he needed to think over. "Step forward, Cadet Waykes.

They gave another "yes sir" in reply without having to think, glancing down. The officer was already standing too close for them to take a proper step, so they shuffled forward, their boots almost touching his.

Before they could find their balance, they gasped when they felt a hand in their hair pulling their head back, before another hand clamped around their neck. They just barely held back from letting their hands fly up and claw at the increasing pressure that cut off their air, and their teeth gritted as they pressed their middle finger to the seam of their trousers, keeping still even as they felt their lungs start to burn.

They were lifted until only their toes were left hovering on the ground. They didn't need to be ordered again to keep their eyes on the officer, letting their unfocused gaze go to the space above his face. Their eyes were almost starting to toll back when he released them, and they stumbled, canting sideways dangerously before he steadied them with a hard grab of their face.

"Now, don't think things will be easy for you just because you're more experienced than the others. Nothing personal against you, but the better you are, the harder we will push you. That's how we ensure our best future officers reach their full potential." Smirking as he watched Kai try to catch their breath, he took a step back and addressed the whole formation. "Dismissed. I will see you all at training tomorrow morning. Don't miss the show."

#others' writing #military whump #IIIIII like this a lot #hi #such pointless cruelty #delightful

just-horrible-things

Here’s some old writing (probably 2014? gee.) from a tabletop game I was once in. This was backstory for my character.

Cameron Blithe remains one of my favourites, and I may yet overhaul the character and work him into something new.

---

At Attention

"At ease!" the sergeant bellowed, and the thud of two score booted feet hitting the ground echoed round the courtyard. "Not you, Blithe!" Cameron snapped back to attention, confused and a little apprehensive. Being singled out was never a good sign. "You stay there. Everyone else, dismissed! Come on, move it along! Don't waste time!"

The courtyard emptied rapidly, footsteps echoing off the concrete buildings along with the sergeant's voice. Soldiers scattered, some walking, others jogging so as not to arrive late to their next posts. Cameron stayed still, eyes fixed on the peeling paint above the door opposite until the movement died down.

He thought he'd heard the sergeant leave, but he couldn't be entirely sure. It wasn't worth looking round. Either this was some trick to fool him into moving so he could be called up on disobedience again, or he was just going to be left here for an hour or two.

Well, he was no stranger to standing at attention. If that's what was to happen, then fine. He'd just deal with it. He counted time in his head, taking note of the five minute mark when he should have showed up for patrol. He wondered if the sergeant had reported that he'd left Cameron standing in the courtyard, or if he'd have to explain his absence later. Probably the latter, he mused darkly, and he'd more than likely be punished for that too.

#my writing #my ocs #cameron blithe #military whump

just-horrible-things

Part 3 / Scene 5

[First | Prev]

The pallet-car slides round the corner soundlessly into line of sight of the roadblock. The driver and all but one of the people clinging to the sides wear the grill-faced masks of the revolutionists. But one of them stands balanced atop the car's cargo - an enormous spherical steel tank - and waves a square of white cloth vigorously above her head.

"Don't shoot!" she yells, tone almost cheerful. "Don't shoot!" Behind the barricades, one of the Vencore rank and file stands up to get a better look. The others remain at their guns. "Don't shoot!" the revolutionist repeats. "Five hundred gallons of distilled potentia right here! Shoot and you'll blow the whole ward sky high!" There is no movement behind the roadblock.

#my writing #my ocs #story: world ablaze #guns tw #gun violence tw #death tw #military whump #oppressive regime tw #war tw #hostage tw #knives tw #threats tw

just-horrible-things

Part 2 / Scene 8

[Prev | Next]

The torture room reeks. The prisoner's clothes are stained and caked. She no longer struggles wildly. Only when the pain is worst does she pull against the cuffs that hold her to the table. Without her grinning mask her face is young and hard. Her features were sharp, before swelling and bruising rounded them out. One open eye stares blankly upwards as she gasps for air.

When the General leaves the room, Colonel Byers flicks a switch and the prisoner's body goes slack. She takes deeper breaths. It is several seconds before she turns her head to look at the Colonel. "... that's not the orders she gave you." The revolutionist leader's voice is raw and scratchy from screaming. "This makes me sick," the soldier replies shortly. "You could always get me out of here..." "I think I'd rather shoot you dead."

#my writing #my ocs #story: world ablaze #torture tw #military whump #electrocution tw #oppressive regime tw

just-horrible-things

"I'm not eating that." The prisoner turns up his nose at the lumpen, unidentifiable slop. The guards exchange a glance. One shrugs. "Fine by me," she says, and takes the food away. The evening brings more of the same beige sludge. He turns it down again.

In the morning, bitter and grumpy from hunger and exhaustion, he throws his bowl on the floor. The guard looks so coldly furious that he wonders if she will strike him again. But she just walks out.

There's no food that evening, and no visit from the guards. The prisoner sits and shivers and paces the length of his cell. The night is long and cold and he cannot sleep. The slop remains on the floor where he threw it. It's disgusting to look at. But it smells almost like food.

#my writing #military whump #starvation tw #famine tw #gross food tw #forced march tw #prisoner of war tw

just-horrible-things

[Content: forced nudity, stripping in a non-sexual context.]

He steps out of the showers still proudly wearing his - now sopping wet - uniform. The guard looks him up and down as water streams down the cloth and puddles at his feet. “What the hell you playing at?” she asks tiredly. “I told you yesterday,” he lifts his chin, “If you want me in your horrible prison rags, you’ll have to strip me yourself. I know your tricks. You only wanted me to shower so you could steal my uniform - well I’m not having it.” “You’re not clean,” the guard points out. “I showered, what more do you bloody want?” “No one gets clean showering with their clothes on.” “I’m not taking it off.”

#my writing #generic characters #military whump #tw prisoner of war #tw captivity #tw nudity #tw forced nudity #tw stripped #tw humiliation #tw hunger strike #defiant whumpee #well I didn't expect to write this #it just showed up in my head

just-horrible-things reblogged

heartlesslywhumping

Whump Prompt #290

Force them into humiliating garb and tell them it suits them

(This doesn’t have to be nsfw. You can put them in the enemies’ uniform, dress them as a slave/servant. Are they a race, like fae, that look down on humans? Dress them as a human)

whumpqhs

The enemy uniform thing just speaks to me for some reason. Imagine them being a captured spy or officer and being given the uniform of the enemy forces who captured them.

If they want to eat or drink or sleep on a real bed, they’ll wear it, and it had better be perfect. Deviations from the uniform code are punished–severely–and at first that’s the only way they learn. They try not to react, but after so many beatings, they find themselves cringing on the floor from every blow, begging to know what they did wrong, they’ll fix it, please!

It kills the last bit of their dignity to ask the guard for advice on how to present, how to salute, how to fit their uniform. And having to follow his advice.

But the last shred of their pride holds on for a while. After all, it’s just a uniform, right?

Finally, they’re sure they’ve gotten it perfect, all pressed and smooth, the fit is exactly to regulation, the ribbons–more mockery, as they’re all signifiers of a soldier who killed the whumpee’s own troops–all bright and straightened and gleaming. They present themselves for inspection, standing tall, saluting perfectly just like they’ve been taught… only to be presented with a mirror, and a startlingly bright camera flash. Staring back at them just before the camera goes off is an enemy operative, pride for the whumper’s forces shining in their eyes. The overseer uses the enemy equivalent of their rank to congratulate them on a job well done.

When the food they earned is delivered later, they throw it away in disgust.