#Augusnippets day 1

[oliversrarebooks]

Augusnippets Day #1: Brainwashing

Masterlist

tw: brainwashing, betrayal

Well, she'd finally found Zach.

She had hoped, probably irrationally, that he hadn't been converted to their side. Maybe he was still in one of their holding pens, waiting to be processed. Maybe he was hiding, or trying to escape. Maybe he was just too strong for it. He was one of the strongest of all of them -- if they could even take Zach, then what hope was there for anyone else?

That hope was dashed to pieces when she finally spotted him. He was wearing a glowing collar and one of their uniforms, like every other of their brainwashed minions. With vacant eyes, he was tending to some of the organic machinery that bloomed on the walls and floor like fungal growths.

But maybe it wasn't too late. She had to believe that. She had to believe that the leader of the human resistance hadn't been brainwashed so easily.

Glancing around to make sure she wouldn't be seen by anyone but Zach, she emerged from her shadowy hiding place. To her relief, his eyes lit up in recognition. "Sky? Sky, is that you?"

"Oh, thank god," she said, rushing to him. "For a minute I thought they had you."

"You came to rescue me," he said with that familiar cocky grin. "You should have known that I didn't need rescuing."

"Well, what was I supposed to think, Zach? Last time I saw you, you were being dragged away, hypnotized by one of those… things! You know how few people have been able to come back from that."

Zach took her by the shoulders. "Oh, I know," he said, with a strange tone in his voice that wasn't at all reassuring. "And now I know why, too."

There was something odd in his eyes, too, something that suggested that Sky had severely miscalculated. "Zach, what…?"

"It's because of how good it feels to serve them," he said, his grip on her tightening.

"Shit!" She tried to pull away, but Zach had always been stronger than her. She was such a fool. She'd let her desperate hope get the better of her, and now --

"I told you, I don't need rescuing. And you won't, either. You're going to finally get to rest, Sky. It's amazing. Trust me."

Sky finally managed to push him off, turning away from him only to find --

Colors. Gorgeous, swirling, mesmerizing colors.

While she had been talking to Zach, one of the aliens had snuck into place behind her, displaying several of its irresistible hypnotic tentacles before her widening eyes. Each one rippled with patterns designed to activate a particular neural cascade, one which sank humans into a deep state of suggestibility and obedience.

It was all a trap, and now she'd be just another of the mindless horde, maintaining the alien ships and capturing more humans to assist the invasion.

She tried to look away, but she was surrounded by the tentacles and their fatal pattern, with Zach holding her from behind and preventing easy escape. Within seconds, she could feel the neural cascade trigger deep in her brain, just like the rescued humans had described it -- a sensation of static, a feeling like sliding into a warm bath, her thoughts being silenced, a blissful euphoria, and then --

"You will comply," said a foreign voice inside of her head, a voice that filled the empty spaces where her thoughts had been.

"I will comply," she agreed in a dull voice.

"You will rest now."

"I will rest now." The idea of getting to rest felt so good as she slumped forward right into a mass of willing tentacles, ready to process her into whatever her alien overlords required.

Masterlist

There will be more of Zach later in the month. This one kind of got away from me...

@augusnippets

[sufrimientilia]

Mine, mine, mine

gaslighting | hypnosis | brainwashing @augusnippets Day 1 cw: vampire whumper, blood drinking, see above

Dilated pupils, heavy breaths. Reality distorted in a way that just didn’t make sense.

He didn’t always take well to induction, or the compulsion, or her vampiric hypnosis— whatever you wanted to call it. Some would say she just needed more practice, that her efforts were sloppy and destructive and wrought with impatience, but others would say he was just being a little bitch about it.

Mostly she was ‘others.’

It wasn’t like she did it all the time. Just once in a while, on the occasion he needed to calm down or be more attentive, or when she needed him to forget things and believe others. Maybe also when she wanted to feed, and when she wanted to laugh, and sometimes when he just needed a break and she wanted to help him sleep.

It just didn’t always work well. Like the clipped commands that made him twitch and tremble with every string of defiance still catching at the fray, or the worsening fatigue and forgetfulness that came with every lie and lost memory. There was also the time she tried to lull him under with hummed tunes and hypnotic stares, and instead somehow gave him the spins, made him so dizzy his eyes wouldn’t track, and he puked all over himself and slumped in one pitiful heap that was so gross she just left him there for hours.

One night she was going hard with the whole thrall narrative, trying for some sort of hypnotic safety-net after yet another one of his failed escape attempts. Eventually he pressed his hand to his nose and his knuckles came away riddled with blood. “Mm.., my head hurts.”

She licked her lips. Sometimes humans leaked blood from such funny places. “Here, maybe you should lie down.”

“I don’t think…”

“You shouldn’t think,” she cut him off, words heavy and weighed. He grimaced hard and sunk right into her lap. “Good thralls have no thoughts at all.”

His brow creased the way it always did when he was in such delicious exquisite pain. Blood dripped over his lips. “I’m, I’m…”

“You’re nothing. You’re just mine.” She ran her thumb across his lips and licked some of the blood clean. His eyes opened and closed, struggling to track. “Mine, mine, mine. And nothing at all.”

"H... hhff-" His gaze wandered and went glossy, words incoherent on slow-moving lips. An odd tremble went through his body, and then he sucked in one hard breath and settled.

He was just so resistant. And sure, maybe there were some risks or side effects to vampiric hypnosis, especially if you weren’t great at it. But it wasn't like he made it easy. She pressed sharp nails against his forehead and he didn't even react. Blood dribbled and dribbled from his nose, mixing with the saliva now collecting at his lips.

It wasn't like she really cared if his brain turned to mush. Maybe it’d make him sweeter, and he could do with a little more sweetness. Sweetness that left him limp, and helpless, and drooling uselessly in her grasp.

Oh, her dear sweet thrall. He'd be just fine. She licked some more of the blood clean and tucked him in close.

[snakebites-and-ink]

Augusnippets Day 1: Gaslighting/Hypnosis/Brainwashing

CW: Brainwashed whumpee, referenced captivity, slavery/trafficking, dehumanization, emotional whump

Caretaker had found Whumpee. 

They'd been co-captives before. For a while, they’d only had each other. Whumpee was always the more actively resistant of the two, struggling and spitting vitriol at their captors.

Yet Caretaker had been the one to make it out first. Their captors had always seemed to have more of an interest in Whumpee.

Whumpee was being sold now, advertised as a weapon of some sort. Caretaker’s heart ached for them at that. But they’d rounded up enough money and were going to get Whumpee out of there at last.

When Caretaker was closer, their gazes met. Whumpee’s eyes lit in recognition, but…not much else. Not hope, not fondness. Maybe they just didn’t dare get their hopes up.

Caretaker was as tense as they could be, but successfully bought Whumpee.

They kept up their role as a normal buyer as they left, and Whumpee seemed to play along. When they were far from prying eyes, Caretaker dropped the ruse. “I got you out, like I always promised I would. You can go, and be free now, at last!” Caretaker smiled.

“I don’t need freedom, sir,” Whumpee said, still acting as they had when they were sold. Suddenly Caretaker doubted they’d just been faking to get out.

Caretaker’s smile faded. “You always used to fight so hard. Don’t you want to go free?”

"The malfunction has been resolved. I won't resist anymore, sir."

Caretaker swallowed. They studied Whumpee searchingly, worried. “Do you really believe that? The whole ‘weapon’ thing?”

“Of course, sir. That’s what you bought me as, isn’t it?”

[whumper-whimsy]

Augusnippets day 1

Gaslighting/Brainwashing/Hypnosis

Content– gaslighting, pet whump, police, hospital.

Whumpee awoke in the night to the sound of sirens. He jumped up, scrambling to the window and looking out. Red and blue lights dazed him, and he pulled away, covering his eyes. The sounds of car doors slamming shut sent him into a frantic kind of panic, and he ran for Whumper's bedroom.

"Sir!" he cried, grabbing the hand that hung off the side. "Sir, wake up! There's sirens, a- and there's lights, and people are here—"

Whumper sat up, sucking in a breath. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing Whumpee's cheeks. His voice was serious, with a hint of panic creeping through, "Whumpee. The cops are here for me. They are going to take you away from me," Whumper explained, running his right hand through his trembling pet's hair. "I need you to listen. They will try to lie to you, try and fill your head with their words, and convince you I'm a bad guy so that they can send me to jail. You can NOT, under any circumstance, let them get to you, do you understand?"

Whumpee began to tear up, shaking his head frantically. "No, no, why? Why are they taking me?" he cried, grabbing at Whumper's sleeves. "Did I do something bad?"

"No, dear. They— they don't... approve of relationships like ours, see? They'll tell you that I kidnapped you, that I abused you. This is not true. Do you understand me, Whumpee?" Whumper grew more serious.

"What? No, you- you saved me! You trained me to be good! You aren't a kidnapper!" Whumpee blubbered, flinching as hard knocks sounded on the front door. "No, I can't—" he choked on his own words, interrupted by Whumper's steady voice.

"Do you understand, Whumpee?"

Whumpee nodded tearfully, hiding his head between Whumper's knees. He only looked back up when something bumped against his head. He looked up to see his stuffed bunny, which Whumper handed down to him.

There was a bang as the door was knocked down, and footsteps thundered into the house. Whumpee squealed as cops filled the room, guns aimed at Whumper. He ducked down when they began to bark commands, clutching his bunny as he cried.

The cops grabbed Whumper, cuffing him and dragging him away. Whumpee couldn't help but sit up, crying out, "Whumper!"

Two more cops crouched down to grab Whumpee, scooping him up and bringing him towards the door.

As he was brought outside for the first time in years, Whumpee searched frantically for his owner. He caught a glimpse of his face through the barred windows of the cop car's backseat and called out again, only to be hurried into an ambulance.

Whumpee was dimly aware of his bunny being pulled off his chest, of gloved hands easing him onto the stretcher, of machines beeping around him. He seemed to blink, and all of a sudden, he was in a hospital bed with IVs in his arms and his precious bunny at his side again.

A doctor was talking to him, probably— he could see lips moving, but in the haze of the situation, he heard only noises, not words. Whumpee was only thinking about his owner, his poor, poor Whumper in trouble all because of him. Whumpee could only clutch his bunny and cry, inhaling the remnants of Whumper's scent on its dingy fur.

[ronanziriano]

Augusnippets Day 1 - Gaslighting

The only piece of decoration in Whumpee’s room was the clock.

Everything else was gray and flat and bare. The walls, the ceiling, the floor - plain, cold, gray stone covering every inch. There was the light in the ceiling too, of course, the one that would dim or brighten or turn off completely at regular intervals; and the stiff cot bolted to the floor in the corner.

But besides that, there was just the large analog clock in the center of the wall. Framed in a dark ring of wood, the second hand moving silently at all times, flowing rather than ticking. It was always there for Whumpee to watch. It even had a dim backlight that rendered it the only thing visible at all when the overhead light turned off.

Whumpee had relied on that clock the whole time he’d been stuck here, using it to keep track of the days and Whumper’s schedule, to know when to next expect food or whether it was day or night.

But lately…

He was starting to wonder.

Whumper was meticulous about keeping time. The light went out at ten p.m., then turned back on to wake him at six a.m. Food and water were given to him at the same times every day. And Whumper would give him time limits on tasks, and tell him how long punishments would last. Down to the minute, they would follow the clock precisely.

And yet Whumpee could swear something was off. Sometimes he would fall onto the cot only for the light to wake him feeling like he couldn’t possibly have gotten more than an hour of sleep. Sometimes the time between meals seemed endless, and by the time he was fed again he was near delirious from the hunger pangs in his empty stomach. Whumper would give him five minutes to wash himself and then cut him off before he could do much more than a quick rinse. He would tell Whumpee that he’d have to stay still for one hour, and Whumpee would be left wondering if Whumper had left and forgotten him as his muscles cramped and stiffened and he was sure he would never move again, only for Whumper to tell him an eternity later that his hour was up.

According to the clock, everything was correct. The time on the clock always matched what Whumper said. Whumper would point to the clock. “See?” he would say. “It’s four-thirty,” he’d say, or “It’s been thirty minutes” or “It’s morning” or “Time’s up.” He would always be right.

Whumpee would stare at the clock sometimes, follow the second hand with his eyes, try to count the seconds. Sometimes it would seem to be moving too fast or too slow, but it also could have been his own counting that was off.

He could swear one time he glanced at the clock to see an earlier time on its face than what it had displayed minutes before, but he couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t thought to memorize the time between glances. Whenever he did, whenever he stopped to focus and test it, nothing seemed off. And he couldn’t just stare at the clock all the time.

Really, though, did it matter? Whumper followed the clock. What the clock said was law. He didn’t know how long he’d been there - surely long enough to throw off his internal clock. Maybe time itself moved differently between these walls. He knew the basics of relativity, that time felt slower when you want less of it and faster when you need more. That would make sense. It would explain why sleep kept feeling shorter and punishments kept feeling longer.

He stopped keeping track of the days at some point. Stopped testing the clock and trying to count seconds. Things happened when the clock said they would, and that was the way of it. Seconds and minutes and days passed at whatever speed the clock commanded.

It wasn’t worth questions or suspicions. The clock was in charge here, not him. Whumper always pointed to the clock, and the clock was always right.

@augusnippets

[scratchandplaster]

Bedtime

CW: hypnosis, parental whumper, dubious parenting

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Hey, buddy. Still up?" 

Thin metal creaked as Dad sat on the edge of his cot, the scrunch of his eyebrows telling Ben that "It's way past your bedtime, young man." 

"I'm not tired," he mumbled and stared back into the dark office, its walls only illuminated by the red sheen of a lava lamp. Blobs of plasma danced in soft lighting.

"After keeping four kids at bay all afternoon, you're not tired?" his dad laughed, "Somehow, I don't believe you."

But Ben simply shrugged, his pout a bit too melancholic for Shepard's liking. His hands now carded slowly through his son's curls, still a bit damp from washing the campfire smoke out of them tonight. Only one person had the power to thicken the peaceful calm between them. After a few minutes, Ben admitted it too: "I hope Luke's doing okay, I miss him." 

And Avery, though he felt glad no one could see him blush in the semi-dark.

"I do too, I missed both of you," Shepard mumbled, as if the thought squeezed all the air out of his chest, "Every day."

Ben's focus turned back to the radiant spheres of lava: joining, bouncing, fusing into each other. He couldn't stop thinking about his brother and how furious he surely was with him for coming back home to Dad, not until gentle fingers began tracing over his cheek, nose and down his nape. Melting into the touch, Ben's already unfocused eyes were caught in the mesmerizing flow of plasma.

"'m not tired." 

His dizzy head sank into the pillow, any protest getting smothered by cotton. The soft rhythm with which Ben's chest rose and fell, though, proved the opposite.

"Of course you're not."

Flickering lights always got him the best, and his dad knew it. With a warm kiss on his temple, another day together came to an end. 

"Good night."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Prompts: gaslighting/hypnosis/brainwashing

@augusnippets

[chompy-wompy]

augusnippets day 1, hypnosis/brainwashing!

"Please, stop.. can you even hear me?"

"You need to snap out of it! This isn't you!"

"You don't need to listen to what they told you anymore. They're gone- it's just you and me. So, please.."

"It doesn't matter if they don't know what they're doing, they're going to hurt people if we don't stop them right now."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll make sure you won't remember any of this. Now, go to sleep~"

[whumplump]

Day 1 of @augusnippets

Prompt used: gaslighting

Not used: hypnosis / brainwashing

CW: gaslighting (obviously), slightly defiant whumpee crying, creepy/intimate whumper, non con touching

When it got dark, the whole house was silent. No noise from clocks, cell phones or footsteps. Whumpee went downstairs only to hear the sound of shoes against the wooden floor. They went to the front door, which was obviously locked, only to have the satisfaction of hearing the lock’s cry.

“I thought we already talked about this," Whumper said behind Whumpee's back.

The captive turned their head to look at Whumper, without taking their hand off the door handle.

"You can't leave," Whumper continued, "It's too dangerous out there."

"I'm going home."

“Dear..."

"Whether you like it or not, I'm going to my house!"

Whumper cut through the air and charged at Whumpee before the captive could predict it. They grabbed Whumpee by the arms and pressed them firmly against the door.

“This is your home now. Here, with me..."

“Let me go! You have shit on your mind! When I finally meet someone and have a house, a home, you kidnap me and take everything from me!"

"Home? You call that home? With that person who isn't capable of protecting you?"

Whumpee froze. Caretaker was a somewhat... clumsy person. But they did their best, and that was what mattered to Whumpee.

Whumper approached Whumpee's ear and continued, whispering:

"Remember that day when you got food poisoning? Why didn't Caretaker check the expiration date on that cream cheese?"

"It wasn't their fault—"

"And when you tripped and fell down the stairs, Caretaker wasn't there to catch you."

"It's not quite like that..."

"These times and more, they never protected you."

Whumpee shook their head, trying hard not to listen to those words. They remembered Caretaker's good efforts and began to cry. Whumper wiped away the tears.

"I'll protect you. I won't let anything happen to you, baby.”

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Day 1: Hypnotism

Reporter stared at their visitor.

“I thought you’d come,” they groaned.

Begrudgingly, they let Sidekick enter in her place. They stepped in with a soft, confident smile. Reporter pointed at them with a threatening finger:

“I warned you. The article is ready. I have several copies already, and my editor knows. I’ve accepted to hear your point of view because I have to listen to both sides, but that’s all I can do for you. Try to bribe or threat me and see how this is going to turn out for you.”

Sidekick look at them with a wounded expression.

“We’re heroes! We would never do something like that. Just because you say things we disagree with doesn’t mean we care about your safety, just as much as any Citizen.”

Their great, big, pleading eyes mollified Reporter a bit.

“All right. Please sit on the couch, then.”

“No, no, please do. It’s you who have to listen this time, after all.”

Reporter wanted to protest, but suddenly they realized how tired they were. Working non-stop for weeks had taken a toll on them. And the voice was so soft... so persuasive. Their legs buckled a little while they yawned. Sidekick shook their head and smiled.

“You’re exhausted. Go ahead, you can lay down. I won’t mind.”

“I have to take notes.”

They went to take their notepad on the table, but thought better of it when they realized that they couldn’t properly see the lines on the paper. No matter how clean their glasses were, their sight was blurry. With a sigh, they put their recorder on. They’d write it on later.

“Are you comfortable?”

“This is my home and my couch,” groaned Reporter. “Are you comfortable?”

“Oh yes. Very comfortable. I am very comfortable. We’re both comfortable and safe.”

Reporter shook their head with annoyance, trying to keep it together.

“Right. First question. You’re very young to be involved in such a violent fight. Why Hero used your help while you’re powerless?”

They tried to look Sidekick in the eye. It was getting harder and harder, though. Now they just wanted to sleep. They wondered briefly if Sidekick ever blinked, or if they blinked every time they did. Whatever Reporter had to say about them, they had to admit they had beautiful, shining eyes. It was hard to look away.

“Don’t worry,” Sidekick assured with a soft smile. “I have a power. Is that your only question?”

“Of course n-”

“That’s your only question.”

“T-Yes.”

“The interview is done.”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re gonna sleep. When you’ll wake up, you will rewrite everything I say.”

And so Reporter did.

*

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

[whumperwithwings]

Augusnippets Day 1: Gaslighting/Hypnosis/Brainwashing

Content: Gaslighting, Threatening, Implied Kidnapping

"No, that's a Pyrite nugget. They look exactly the same. I understand that you might get confused, Whumpee, considering you're not the sharpest tool in the shed, but now you are making me question why I acquired you in the first place." Whumper seemed like a giant as they loomed over Whumpee while glaring at them, Whumpee quickly growing clammy from the threat, their palms sweating so hard they almost dropped the gold nugget they were holding.

Whumpee balked away from Whumper, before giving them one, dangerous, glance. "B-but, Whumper, I did the gold test just like you-"

"Hold it," Whumper said, interrupting Whumpee's supposed proof. "Last I checked, I am the expert here. I am the one who has undergone extensive training. I am the one who has several degrees. And I am your direct supervisor, so you better get your ass back to the river and find me some real gold." Whumper snarled the second to last word at Whumpee, leaning down to get all to close to Whumpee's face.

Whumpee gulped with fright. "Yes, Whumper."

"Good. And I'll be taking that Pyrite nugget you're holding. It's my property. And you don't want to take my property, wouldn't you, Whumpee?" Whumper casually leaned against a tree behind them, as if they were just two friends chit-chatting.

"Of course not, Whumper." Whumpee frantically nodded and scurried off, leaving Whumper to a mineral nugget that must have been Pyrite. After all, Whumper said so, right?

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets, Day One: Gaslighting

cw: manipulation, minor whump (he's 17 here)

for the @augusnippets challenge // wordcount: 419

=~=~=

“You holding up, champ?”

Benji pressed his back into the wall, hoping the cold concrete would clear his head. His palms stung from tumbling onto the asphalt while the crew made their escape. His new t-shirt—bought with his share from their last job—was ruined, tattered all down his back. His skin was cut up too, but he was trying not to think about it, letting the leftover adrenaline keep the pain at bay for a little while longer.

“Hey. Benny. You okay?”

He swallowed, managing a shallow nod.

“There we go. I knew you wouldn't let a little thing like this get to you. C'mon, let's get our act together.” Anya had her bag slung over her shoulder and was digging through it. Benji struggled to keep his eyes open.

“We… we're going back?”

“Of course we're going back. You wanna eat, don't you?”

Again, he nodded, trying to hold on to agreeance, though his mouth wouldn't cooperate. “But we almost got caught,” he blurted out. “W-we almost died.”

“No one 'almost died,'” Anya replied, a note of irritation creeping into her voice. “Look. The cops are busy chasing us, security’s distracted. No one's going to expect a second hit. If we don't go now—”

“Please,” Benji squeaked. “I… I don't think I can.”

Anya rubbed her face. “Damn it, Ruebin.”

His heart sank. Usually it was Benji or Benny. She only used his last name when she was annoyed with him.

“Why do you always have to do this?”

Always? He didn't always do this. He was just hesitant. Up until a few months ago, the biggest job he'd pulled was stealing the Rolex off a guy in a suit. This was high stakes.

“I don't…”

“You do,” Anya said. “Every run I've taken you on, you get scared and wanna back out.”

“Not every—”

“Every time.”

Was she right? Anya had been doing this for years. Maybe she saw something he didn't. When he didn't say anything else, she let out a sigh.

“I can't hold it against you. You're new. The rest of us aren't cowards, but that just means we aren't used to people who are.” She put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle smile. “I know you can move past this, right? You're one of us.”

Benji nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I'll... get better.”

“That's what I like to hear, Benny.” Anya slapped him on the back, and he tried not to wince at her enthusiasm.

“Now let's get back out there.”

[re-whump]

augusnippets day 1 - Hypnosis

I don't know that any of these will be particularly good, but I want to get myself back into writing so no perfection allowed 🤷 have a good dog contains: hypnosis/mind control, betrayal, werewolf whumpee

The sleep dragged him down like a lover, desperate and warm. Its grasping tendrils eased into his mind and stripped him of his worries. Pleasant dreams rose in their place, where there were no hunters and his pack was safe. His body relaxed and he sighed, feeling safe for the first time in what must have been decades.

He opened his eyes to a plain room. A man in fatigues sat in a chair beside him. The wolf didn’t know him or his scent, but he recognized the aroma of fading magic and human blood. He tensed instinctively, ready for a fight.

“Easy, you had a rough night. I’m only here to help you,” the stranger said.

The werewolf and ran a hand down his chest, his arms, his thighs. He didn’t feel hurt. He sat up and he felt…fuzzy, like maybe he’d been knocked out. His ears rang a little, but there were no injuries to be found. He wasn’t even sore, like he ought to have been after a tussle

“You were fully healed. Now, if you’re rested, you’ll follow me.”

The wolf did as he was told, rising without question. He should’ve had questions, he knew, but there was ringing in his head instead. He dressed himself in the clothes the man handed him. They were sturdy. As he inspected the fit, he thought the insignia on the chest was familiar, but…his ears kept ringing in a strange serenade. The man snapped for his attention and a sense of warmth and safety surged through the wolf’s chest. The man led him down the hall.

“You will guard this cell, no one goes in or out without my approval. It's for their protection.”

The wolf leaned around the man to see what was inside and his heart briefly dropped. My pack. They hadn’t been brought to a healer or given a quiet place to rest. They were bloodied and hurt, huddled together in the far corner of a bare concrete cell, and ready as they could be for the next fight to come for them.

One, still half-transformed, caught his eye and whimpered. The wolf’s heart jumped with the instinct to go to them, to reassure them, to fight for them. And then that ringing came back, a much more pleasant noise, and he looked back to the man giving orders.

His heart ached as he wondered what had happened to them in his absence. He was determined to keep it from happening again. He dutifully took his order and turned his back on the cell as they begged for his attention. He couldn’t be distracted.

“Good dog,” the man said before retreating down the hall.

Someone was crying.

The wolf let the pleasant ringing drown them out.

[stationary-cycle-in-motion]

@augusnippets day 1: gaslighting

tw: gaslighting

Despite the tightly-bound anger visible in the creases of Anakin’s eyes as he watches the hem of Padmé’s dress recede from the War Room, the Force is strangely silent.

Anakin has never been skilled in concealment; the punch of his broadcasts is something Obi-Wan is still getting used to, even after all these years. Contempt for Obi-Wan’s teachings, love for Padmé, pride, jealousy, grief. A constant cloud of emotion oozes from his former padawan wherever he goes, choking every Force-sensitive in a five-klick radius.

And yet, as Anakin runs an agitated hand through his hair, braces his arms against the console, huffs out a heavy breath, Obi-Wan’s only clue that he is unhappy with the meeting’s outcome is through observing with his eyes rather than the Force.

Hesitantly, because Obi-Wan has never been good at comfort, he rests a hand on his former padawan’s shoulder. “I know you’re not fond of this plan, Anakin, but–”

“What?” Anakin jerks away from Obi-Wan’s touch, shoots him an accusatory look. “I never said that.”

Obi-Wan blinks. “Really? Because I seem to recall you causing quite the scene when you found out the Council intended to place Padmé directly in the line of fire–”

Anakin shakes his head, the look on his face almost incredulous. “I think your memory’s cross wired.”

It most certainly is not.

“I trust that Rex’ll keep Padmé safe,” Anakin says, and it sounds like a reiteration, even though those words have never left his mouth in the time this mission has been in discussion.

“And I suppose you told him as much?” Obi-Wan asks, rhetorically, because the overwhelming miasma of fear and nerves that had radiated from Rex as he left the meeting suggests no one reassured him of his ability to protect Padmé. With a pang, Obi-Wan realizes he should correct that before they land.

Anakin meets his gaze levelly. “Of course.” Another lie.

He walks away like that’s the end of it, like Obi-Wan’s clear memory of him screaming himself hoarse and telling Mace just where he can shove it not one day ago is nothing but a fabrication, a figment of his imagination.

The Force is still worryingly silent.

A lie feels like a pinprick, like an itch that can’t be scratched. The feeling is subtle, but it’s always there, no matter how good a bluff someone thinks they are. 

Except this time, it isn’t.

Obi-Wan knows Anakin is lying, knows it with more confidence than he knows himself, and yet, Anakin’s deception is so thorough, he fools even the Force.

With a shiver, Obi-Wan wonders how many other times he’s gotten away with deception.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

cw abuse of an adult child / cw referenced child abuse / cw gaslighting cw / cw alcohol abuse / cw abuse

The words shouldn’t hurt Jamie as much as they do; they shouldn’t sting the same as a slap, leaving his soul tingling the same way his flesh does. A look into James and Jamie’s relationship after his loan is canceled.

For @augusnippets day 1 - gaslighting

Read on ao3

[jamiesfootball]

Augusnippets Day 1

Brainwashing

CW: brainwashing (pre-brainwashing technically, these are early stages), referenced child abuse, sports injury

Summary:

When Jamie's career is still in its early stages, one of his teammates witnesses his dad's abuse. Unfortunately that teammate is Zava.

Here on ao3

“You do not need to put up with this.”

Jamie righted himself quickly, trying to hide his wince. With a quick swipe of his eyes, he turned to defend himself, discarded shoe at the ready, only to realise it wasn’t his father who stood behind him this time.

Cold horror filled his chest.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped. His eyes darted around the treatment room, but if there were somewhere to hide, he would’ve found it ten minutes ago. The corner of his lip throbbed from what had been a quick but brutal slap. He wasn’t sure yet if it’d bruise, but the residual heat felt like a neon sign to anyone who looked.

Zava, the Zava, stood in the doorway watching him, his head cocked as he studied Jamie like one of those evil Australian birds with the necks.

“That man, he is your father?”

Shame curled under his skin; an ugly flush sprung up to his cheeks.

“None of your business, is it?” he spat. He leaned down to fetch the other shoe from where it’d missed his face and smacked against the far wall. Even that small movement made his knee sing in agony, fingers shaking as he snagged the laces. “Don’t you have post-match incense to light or something? Or a shower? Your man bun’s looking a bit flaccid there.”

Zava ignored him the same way he’d ignored Jamie ever since the man arrived at City four months ago. “You are ashamed.”

“Fuck off.”

“He is upset because you did not play long enough for his liking.”

“Are you fucking deaf or something?” Jamie choked; even to his own ears he sounded screechy and overemotional. He dug his nails into palms, trying to ignore the heat where it sprung behind his eyes. This was exactly the kind of behaviour his dad wouldn't tolerate. Zava was far from the first dick to catch him vulnerable and decide to poke at the bruise. This should be nothing.

The knee brace was still right on the counter where his dad had tossed it after demanding Jamie show him what was so bad that they’d had to pull him fifteen minutes into play. Only his third time starting this season too. His dad hadn’t been impressed.

“Zava agrees.”

It took Jamie a moment to catch up. When he did, he paused, knee brace forgotten in his hand. “What?”

“Zava agrees. If not for the unfortunate tackle, Zava would have preferred you to play longer. You are not unskilled.”

“Oh. Uh-,” he choked, his throat gone inexplicably dry. After months of his dad riding him, even a backhanded compliment like ‘not-unskilled’ sounded like a choir to his ears. “Thanks?”

Zava nodded in approval. For a dizzying moment, Jamie found himself struck with the need to make it happen again – only to remember that he couldn’t do shit until his knee healed.

Just his fucking luck.

Shaking himself out of his stupid, short-lived daydream, he sat down on the bench. He needed to get the brace back on. Already, the swollen joint had started to turn black around the edges, an unnerving ink blot into how long it would take to recover-

“Stretch your leg out.”

Jamie glanced up. Even disregarding the fact that Jamie still hadn’t hit his growth spurt, Zava was tall. Standing this close while he was still seated, he loomed over Jamie like a god.

Hesitant, Jamie slowly slid his leg out. He watched dumbfounded as Zava — Zava — knelt down in front of him to redo the straps. He worked quickly, professionally, the exact opposite of the irritated rage with which his dad had ripped it off.

Once it was secured, Zava worked his finger under the sides, testing and readjusting the straps.

“You are on contract with City,” he said. “Do you intend to stay after next season?”

Jamie nodded. Zava didn’t spare him a look; he appeared focused on efficiently tightening the straps. When the silence grew awkward, Jamie finally said out loud, “Yes.”

“You should not. During the summer transfer window, you should come with Zava.”

Zava did something to the brace, and Jamie hissed through his teeth as a sharp pain shot up his leg. Biting his lip was one of his habits that needed breaking, and the hot swell at the corner of his lip was the price he paid for forgetting. Jamie was certain now that it’d bloom into a bruise. His dad always got a bit heavy handed towards the end of the season – and this was the end of the season for Jamie.

Regret settling thick in his stomach, Jamie shook his head. “My knee’s fucked. Physios said I won’t even be able to train for another three months.”

Zava disregarded this. “It does not matter. Come play for Zava.”

“Mate, even if another club wanted me like this, my contract ain’t up for another year.”

“Irrelevant. Come play for Zava.”

“The fuck does that even mean?” Jamie demanded, overwhelmed and lightheaded as Zava gave one final, businesslike tug on the straps.

The hands that settled on Jamie’s knee were gentle; the stare that was levelled at him was heavy as granite and pinned him to the bench.

“It means you come with me. You leave behind the sad man with the bad aim. You come with me; you play for me. You give your life to Zava.”

The magic spray had worn off over an hour ago, and the physios still hadn’t returned with any pills. His face hurt. His eyes stung. He’d limped off the field with only two touches and a bad tackle to his name, and his teammates — the senior team he’d envied from a distance, the ones who hardly tolerated having a younger kid about anymore than his dad did — had barely clapped him off the pitch. He didn’t play enough to matter to them anyway. An entire season, and he’d only started three matches – and he’s been made to regret every one of them.

He didn’t play enough to matter to anyone. Yet.

Jamie swallowed. Out of curiosity, he asked, “Where are we going?”

Zava raised his hand. Jamie couldn’t hide his flinch in time, but the older man ignored it. With no regard for personal space, he settled his palm on Jamie’s face, right over the impression his dad had left behind.

“You do not need to know. You need only to say ‘yes’ to Zava.”

Something tilted in his head then. 

For years, Jamie had existed with a soul that felt too heavy for the skin it was supposed to ride around in. The pressure of it weighed him down, the bones in his chest squeezing and buckling under the pressure until he feared that one day it’d crush him dead in his sleep.

Whatever that weight was, wherever it had come from, it abruptly sprung loose, and for the first time in years the world felt… lighter.

Easier.

A shiver ran down his spine.

“Okay,” he said carefully, a bit scared that saying he wanted it might make the offer vanish. “Yes.”

The intensity of Zava’s stare made him feel as if he was being weighed, tested for that ugly stone inside him.

He bore the scrutiny with all the feigned strength his bony shoulders could muster up and tried to make himself a feather.

“Three more times,” said Zava. “Three more yeses. One for every time you made Zava ask. And one more for making him explain.”

That seemed fair.

“Yes,” said Jamie Tartt, eighteen and bruised, with hope flapping in his chest. “Yes, yes, yes.”

It would be the hope that killed him.

[whumpy-writings]

Gaslighting

This is the first installment in my brand new mini-series called Pennae Volatus! Masterlist

Augusnippets 2024 Day 1: Gaslighting/hypnosis/brainwashing

CW: slavery, winged whumpee, memory loss, gaslighting

Their world was nothing but the cage and the man.

"You've always been a slave," he said flatly.

"That-that's not true," they replied. But they weren't sure. They tried to reach back in their memory, but all they saw was themself in a cage. Always. If there had been a time when they were free, when they had a name, they couldn't remember it. If they couldn't remember it, then it must not have been real.

"I-I'm a slave," they said hesitantly. "I've always been a slave." The words felt wrong on their tongue, but it was the truth, wasn't it?

The man gave them a broad smile.

"Good slave. Now preen those wings for me. You're going on sale tonight, and I expect to turn a pretty profit."

@augusnippets