#cult setting

[scratchandplaster]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 6 - "You lied to me"

CW: parental Whumper, hypnosis, emotional manipulation, interrogation, conditioning

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・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"There are still plenty of thoughts inside your head, so let's get them in order."

Shepard was intently focused on his son. Above now dried tear tracks, his unblinking attention denied Ben to be unguarded for even one second, whilst his assertive but nevertheless mellow tone carried him along a carved-out path.

Possessive strokes down his back dragged him further: "Down, just down, always deeper down. We can't choose our sorrows, but you can choose to let them go for a moment, to let me help forget them. Follow my lead."

In and out, it was impossible to resist the pace he was taught so well.

"I would count you down, but you know all my old tricks."

Shepard was not naive, he had to be extremely lucky that his charade still worked after all these months Reuben spent on his own, poisoning his mind and spirit out in the world. That he still responded obediently to the suggestions of the past was a goddamn miracle. One he would gladly use to its full potential.

"Remember all the times we did this before," Shepard repeated for good measure. So many, many times, half of which Ben couldn't even recall. Today was far from the first instance he helped to quiet his ward's nettled thoughts.

It was about time to rectify old lies.

"You always knew where Lukas was, though we both know you claimed otherwise," Shepard sighed low, "Will you tell me now?"

The soft face on his shoulder began to stir back to wakefulness, his bottom lip scrunched up in painful guilt. Rough start.

"Shh, forget that, it was a stupid question. You did nothing wrong." Comforting reassurance and soft circles drawn onto his temples helped to smooth out any risen qualm. "I know it's difficult for you to stay alert during this state, so I'm keeping this easy for us. Just Yes or No from now on, you don't even have to say a word."

Reuben showed himself more agreeable and leaned back against him.

"Is Lukas doing well?"

A small nod. Good.

"Is he eating enough? You know how he always skips breakfast."

Again, Ben nodded against the rough wool of Shepard's sweater while the same tediously tried to keep this interview on track: he could embrace his success later, when both of his sons were near him again. However, the abandoned father was ready to reap the fruits of his endeavor.

"Do you want to tell me where he is?"

Ben quickly shook his head. No, not yet.

"Mhh, I understand."

It felt horrible how easy it was to make him tell the truth, but Shepard had no interest nor intention to question his parenting methods at the moment. He knew exactly what limits confined them: he couldn't make Reuben do or forget anything he didn't want to, at least if he failed to be persuasive enough.

Shepard's boy was easy to read and just as simple as he was loyal to both his brother and father. But not in equal parts, Shepard was at a certain disadvantage he ought to correct. 

Children like them were too inept for the world outside the settlement, so it was no wonder Reuben merely crumpled under the first selfless act of affection in a long time. If his forgiveness was not given freely, Shepherd could just rip it from his fragile heart. For both their peace of mind, nothing else.

"You know how much I love you, both of you."

The shake of Ben's head said it all. It hadn't even been a question, but the blunt answer pricked nonetheless.

"Oh, well, I love you more than the world. I did everything to get you back!" Shepard mused softly, "If not me, what about the rest of our family?"

Kind memories of the people who waited for him outside rinsed Ben of any stray thoughts and drifted with him into the depths. He never wanted to hurt any of them with his decisions. 

"Did you miss us?"

Ben affirmed this shyly, grabbing a corner of Shepard's sweater.

"You are safe here, right?"

A nod.

"You are safe with me."

At the claim, Ben's head rolled around aimlessly, as if he was trying to stir awake again. Shepard tutted; this was a tricky one.

"You are here with me and the others, all together. We watch out for each other, we keep each other secure."

Yes, this made sense. Through the pleasant, thick fog that filled his head, Ben knew it to be sincere.

"Here, you are safe. With us, you are safe."

Safe...together. He couldn't possibly disagree with these smooth words.

"You are safe and loved by us all, we were awaiting your return. Always putting an extra plate on the dinner table for when you decide to come back." 

Shepard had to endure countless days of waiting before accepting that his youngest would stay gone. He had searched for him for so long it made him sick with fear, not knowing if his sons were hurt or fraternizing with God knows what kind of people. Yet, he didn't want for Reuben to realize the damage he had caused, not when he was so calm and open for the right input. 

"And today our wishes were granted!"

Warmth, safety, love. Encased by these sensations, Ben's mind caught itself slipping into easy relaxation once again.

"Can you say it for me, can you tell me that you're safe and loved?"

"'m safe and loved," he slurred quietly against the wool. It felt good to be here in his dad's arms, it felt right.

"That's my boy, I knew we could stand above the past." 

Shepard's sweet promises hugged his exhausted soul, he was too tired of running, adapting, changing. They tried to teach Ben what to say and what to hide out there, but the only thing he understood was to never be himself; another truth nobody could ever tell his brother. He remembered exactly how angry and disappointed Luke loved to get with him.

Cupping his face carefully, Shepard pushed him to sit straight up: "Open your eyes."

With a wide, empty stare but not awake in the slightest, Ben continued to sway back and forth. He was unsure what Dad wanted from him and too dizzy to care, silently begging to be allowed back into the stream of soft, dark dreaminess. Tears collected at the corners of his eyes, but Shepard was far from done with him: "Ben, tell me what you are when you're with us."

"I'm safe and I'm loved," tumbled from his lips without thinking twice about it.

"Yes, you are." Relief washed over Ben like a tsunami: he didn't do anything wrong after all, nobody hated him here.

"Now close these heavy eyes and relax."

As he sagged back down, the inward pull doubled its force. He felt that the soap bubble his brain had become threatened to pop. Too much to focus on, nothing to think about, clutching onto the inner peace Dad had so kindly given him. 

"We all love you so much. Missing is too weak a word to explain how desperately we wanted you back. You are always wanted here." 

Every word was law.

Shepard should feel dirty at using Reuben's obvious weaknesses so bluntly against him, but not today. Today they would celebrate his return and plan the one they enjoyed as soon as the other prodigal son decided to come home. A selfish sting inside Shepard's heart forced the next question out: "Did you miss me?"

A final nod made tears run down Ben's face. Shepard hugged him tighter, as if he never intended to let go again:

"I missed you too, starshine, it's going to be alright. Everything falls into place when we are together."

Numb with joy, Ben felt too tired to hold on to the present any longer, a problem his father gladly helped him with: "Sleep now, sleep and let my words manifest as truth in your mind."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

[whumpshaped]

tw religous whump, cult setting, implied torture, captivity, conditioning

Whumpee lay on the cold ground in their cell, staring into the darkness. There was nothing to do, nobody to talk to, and barely any thoughts left in their head. It was just the buzzing of static, along with mantras and prayers drilled into them.

It wasn't their god. It wasn't. It was a cruel mockery of a benevolent master, made bloodthirsty and unforgiving, and Whumpee would never bow down to worship such a thing; even if they kept them in the cell for years, even if they kept them there forever, they wouldn't yield.

How foolish.

How utterly, unbelievably foolish. As if any absent god could've given Whumpee the strength to withstand vicious torture day after day. It didn't matter whether it was their own or their tormentors' god who was real, because their tormentors were, and Whumpee found little energy to concern themself with hypotheticals and the divine in the face of immediate danger.

When they were finally let out of the cell and allowed fresh air and sunlight, the only words on their treacherous lips were the ones they'd been taught while they were drowned and whipped; but they'd never worship again, not earnestly. The only god in their eyes was the person bringing them water every day. The only one who had showed them mercy.

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou @whump-kitty

[ratking-roleplays]

I hiss at the shallow cut, but nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of a blade going through bone.

I don't scream. I can't, it gets trapped in my throat. I can't even pull away with you holding my hand like that. Not for a lack of trying.

My leg, my shoulder, now my hand. I'm not doing too great. Everything hurts, and I absolutely detest the way I'm crying in front of you.

"See, that wasn't so bad, now was it Junebug?" I teased, some sadistic urge curling in my gut as you sniffled. I needed to wring you dry of all your blood and make you scream and beg and-

But I wouldn't. I waited until enough blood had drained, and then I helped you to your feet, half-carrying you to another, larger shed. This one actually had a bloodstained mattress in the corner, which I helped you onto. This time, I didn't bother trying to tie you down, or even lock the door. I doubt you'd make it that far if you did try to run, although that would be entertaining, and certainly give me reason to punish you.

[sincerely-sofie]

Guess what fandom I’ve been gradually succumbing to, friends.

[thegreendiamondart]

The eepy beansssss

I need these two to be cuddly before I throw trauma their way :)

[aubeezz]

I like to think he feels a little regret for u know, tearing his eyes out

[tow-bees]

Fishing trip with death god/dad and death god/dad’s usurper/new death god after being imprisoned for like a thousand years in the land of the dead or something

[caramelldansenu]

[lambouillet]

Leader

[scratchandplaster]

Tales of Arcadia [Masterlist] 🌱🌠🧶

CW: parental Whumper, cult setting, mind control, conditioning

[Writing order Masterlist] | [Chronological Masterlist]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The Father: Kicks

The Son: As it was Yesterday | First Words | Haircare | Compromise

The Nuisance: Ripples | Upwards

Midnight | Dead of Night

Mishap | Your Merit

White Elephant

Another | Signs

Carrion

Return to me:

"Bite down on this" | Obedience | "You lied to me" | Suffering in silence | Semi-conscious | "I love you" | "Who did this to you?" | Too weak to move | Lightning strike | A new beginning | Hitch in the road

Bedtime

Settling in (ask game):

?| ? | Claire | ? | ? | Dinner talk | ? | ? | Breathwork | ? | Wound care | Sleeves | Collateral

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[whumpshaped]

Been thinking about a mock execution followed by a mock resurrection in a cult setting. Like… Whumpee watched their best friend be ‘killed’ and now the cult demands all this stuff for the ‘ritual’ to bring them back and by the end Whumpee is so brainwashed they’ll play the role of being mock executed to help bring people into the cult. Deception isn’t that big a deal if it’s saving someone’s soul, and they should know- they’ve turned out fine

- @another-whump-sideblog

ok i realise this is different from the prompt because whumpee doesnt actually know theyre participating in deception..... but i think its still pretty good

tw cult setting, religious whump, murder, manipulation, conditioning, noncon drugging

There was nothing they could do. They couldn't stand up and rush over to the priest, they couldn't get their friend off the altar, they couldn't even move. They were surrounded by all their other friends and loved ones who didn't move a muscle either, didn't even bat an eye as the priest raised the ritual knife. If they had stood up and opposed this madness, they would've been shunned.

So they stayed put and watched. They gripped the edge of their seat and tried to blink away their tears, hoping that at the end of all this chanting the priest would do something symbolic instead of literally stabbing their best friend. Maybe it was a test of faith. Maybe if they stayed put, the priest would reward them by not murdering their friend.

When the knife came down, Whumpee almost saw it in slow motion. Their eyes were helplessly locked on the scene as the priest buried the knife hilt-deep inside their friend's abdomen, but they couldn't make a single sound of protest. They couldn't believe it. It just wasn't real. It couldn't be.

They watched as their friend's head lolled to the side, glassy eyes staring into their very soul. They watched as the body went limp and was carried away, and they stayed in their seat, only moving to kneel for prayer once everyone else did so as well.

Their friend was gone. What were they even praying for?

"Whumpee."

They turned towards the source of the voice, finding themself staring at the priest. The church was empty. They were still kneeling. They must've zoned out.

"I'm sorry, I... I'll leave. Sorry. I didn't realise–"

"I would like to talk to you, actually. I know you must be experiencing a lot of emotions regarding today's events."

"I... I have questions."

The priest smiled and extended a hand. "Come. I'll answer them all to the best of my abilities."

-

"They said they would be resurrected," Whumpee said quietly. "I thought... I thought it was a metaphor. I didn't know... I'm sorry, I'm still so new to all of this, I don't understand how– how they could give their life so willingly– they said they'd seen others be resurrected, and they trusted me, and I just... I don't know what they trusted me with."

"Their life, of course."

Whumpee's eyes widened. "But– was I supposed to stop it? They said not to stop it! They said to trust in you like they trusted in me! And I did, I didn't stop it–"

"Calm down, child. Allow me to explain the process behind the sacrifice."

Whumpee took a shaky breath and tried to settle down. They wiped the tears from their eyes and gestured for the priest to go on, putting on their best listening face.

"People volunteer to become sacrificial lambs for those closest to them. Your friend volunteered their life to strengthen your faith, and they trust that you won't run away from the trial. Because if your faith is strong enough, you can bring them back."

"Bring them back..?"

"Of course. They weren't lying about having seen many resurrections. They have even resurrected a friend before themself. They were just as shaken as you are now, but they decided to trust in God, strengthen their faith, and go through with the ritual."

Whumpee felt like they were being lied to. Who could even bring back someone from the dead? If anyone, it certainly wasn't them. But if their friend had also done it... and if they were now counting on them... "I've never seen any resurrections before," they said miserably. "It sounds..."

"Impossible?" Whumpee slowly nodded, and the priest chuckled. "Yes, it does. But that is part of the trial. You see, those who have never gone through resurrecting a friend or loved one aren't allowed to participate in sacrificial sermons, unless it's their very own — which is what you've just taken part in. Once you've seen something happen in front of your very eyes, it's quite easy to believe it could happen again. But believing that even something that sounds entirely impossible, something you have never witnessed before could happen because of your trust and devotion? That is true faith."

True faith... But how were they supposed to believe something so outrageous? "I, I'm not sure I can do that," they stammered. They didn't even attempt to hold back their tears this time. "My friend– my friend trusted me this much? Why? Why, when I can't– I can't imagine how one could believe in such a thing! I wasn't ready! They gave their life for someone like me, and I'm not even– I'm not even faithful enough to, to bring them back!"

"They trusted you because they believed you were ready." The priest reached out and gently took their hand in their own. "They came to consult me about it, and I told them that I shared their sentiment."

"Why would you–"

"Because you are, child. You are ready. And I can help you grow your faith in the coming three days before the resurrection ceremony. I can help you trust. And I will, if you ask me to." They paused for a moment, their determined expression softening into something more understanding. "You can also choose to walk away from the trial, of course. Nobody can stop you. I know your friend would never hold it against you."

"How can you even say that?" they sobbed. "You murdered my friend, and now you're saying I have a chance to undo it, and– and that I can walk away? Of course I can't. I can't. I can't let them die if there's another way!"

"I assumed you would say that. And your friend did too."

-

Whumpee barely slept in those three days. They were advised to fast, read the holy texts, and pray. Nothing else mattered. They told themself over and over that everything was possible for God, that the people who said they'd already witnessed several resurrections weren't lying, that if they believed hard enough their friend would come back and hug them and tell them they'd done well.

On the day of the ceremony, Whumpee was sweating bullets. They were terrified that their faith hadn't grown enough to bring a person back to life. As they walked up to the altar with their dead friend on top of it, they thought they might pass out.

"Let us pray," the priest said loudly, and Whumpee heard the sound of a hundred people all get onto their knees. They lowered themself to the floor as well, clasping their hands together with the desperation of someone who was truly suffering. "Lord, examine the heart of Your humble servant closely. Reward their faith if it pleases You, and give them the gift of life and love. Show them that with faith, everything is possible."

The crowd murmured the word 'amen', and Whumpee took a deep breath. "Amen."

Days without food had weakened their body, and they felt lightheaded as they rose to their feet again. They looked down at their dead friend, then up at the priest and the religious symbols on the wall behind them. In that moment, a wave of complete and utter peace washed over them. They knew that everyone in the room trusted the same God as them, and that they had all seen this happen before. Nothing was impossible.

"I believe," they whispered, and the priest took their hand and gently guided it to their friend's chest.

"Let it happen according to your faith."

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum.

Whumpee broke down in tears as soon as they felt it, dropping right back to their knees while muttering words of gratutude and worship. Their faith had been enough. Their friend was alive! Their friend was alive again, because they had trusted and believed!

"Praise be," they choked out, and the priest laughed.

"Praise be!" they repeated joyfully, and the people behind them enthusiastically joined in.

-

"I can't believe I'm about to spring this on my friend," Whumpee said with a grin. "Like you did to me! That was the scariest day of my entire life, and I'm about to do it to someone else..."

"But it was followed by the best day of your life, wasn't it?" Their friend was cheery as ever, the scar on their stomach carefully covered up by several layers of clothes. "Your faith would not be as stable as it is if I hadn't done that! And now you get to help your friend like I helped you."

"You're right. Besides, I'm sure they'll do amazingly." Their smile faltered, and they stopped walking. "Were you scared? Before the big day?"

Their friend turned around to be able to look them in the eyes, but there was nothing on their face that indicated that this question was a bad one. They looked compassionate. "Yes, I was. Not because I thought you wouldn't pass the trial, just... I knew it would hurt."

"Does it hurt a lot?"

Their friend nodded a little, and absentmindedly raised a hand to their stomach. "It's over quite quickly, though. Quicker than I'd assumed."

Whumpee nodded as well, but then quickly went back to their joyful attitude from before. "Well, no need to be sad about it! It's for a good cause, and I'm happy to be a part of it!"

Their friend smiled back. "Yes. It's quite the thrilling experience."

-

The priest was quite pleased when Whumpee sought them out to talk about the sacrifice. They were eager to continue the cycle, which was always a good sign. It meant that they didn't suspect a thing.

They talked to Whumpee for a good while, answering all the questions they had with utter nonsense they made up on the spot. There was no truth to any of it, really, but all the idiots in the group ate it up. The real preparation started once Whumpee was out of the room.

They prepared a portion of their special drug cocktail, the one they used to coat the ritual knife. It had some anaesthetics in it to dull the pain, and of course something that would cause the subject to black out quite quickly. It gave the very convincing impression of seeing somebody die on the altar.

They prepared all the IVs and the surgical equipment, making sure everything was clean and in order. They couldn't have the sacrifice actually die, after all. No, they had to be kept in a limbo for three days, not dead but not awake either. The only time the heart needed to be stopped was right before the ceremony, in case someone got overwhelmed and decided to check for a pulse before they gave the go-ahead.

The priest pulled out one of the drawers, grimacing when they realised they would need to cook up a new batch of the other drug as well, the one they used to restart circulation. It was always remarkably easy to inject the sacrifice while all the sheep had their heads bowed in prayer. No one ever looked. No one ever noticed.

For all they knew, they were witnessing one resurrection after the other.

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em

[probablybadrpgideas]

Remember, the names of the great old ones are just human approximations.

While "Kuh-thoo-lu" is the accepted pronunciation, there's nothing stopping you from having cultists who use "Ku-lu-ho", "Kat-hu-lu" or the entirety of Flo Rider's 2008 hit song (Shawty Got) Low as the god's name.

[chancekey]

it was technically his temple anyway, so Narinder's holing up there instead of in some stupid hut

[the-one-with-spider-brainrot]

fucking around with brushes god I. Do not shade very often

[ninjasmudge]

low effort! if hed have just said he was gonna be a black cat theyd have gone as a witch to match

[bamsara]

My sticker from @spacedoutflowers came in WITH SURPRISE NARILAMB!!!! AAAAAAA