Roleplay Server Interest Check - Canary in the Gene Pool (Name subject to change)
Hello, all! This is an interest check for a hero/villain whump Discord roleplay server. Specifically, one inspired by X-men, and more specifically, the ideas of mutants.
The server would revolve around OC mutants (and non-mutants!) in a city that doesn't know what to think of them. Play as a mutant, a non-mutant, a hero, a villain. Anything you'd like! And, of course, there will be lots of whump!
For now, this is just an interest check. Interact with this post if you're interested. Reblogs highly encouraged!
Roleplay Server Interest Check - Canary in the Gene Pool (Name subject to change)
Hello, all! This is an interest check for a hero/villain whump Discord roleplay server. Specifically, one inspired by X-men, and more specifically, the ideas of mutants.
The server would revolve around OC mutants (and non-mutants!) in a city that doesn't know what to think of them. Play as a mutant, a non-mutant, a hero, a villain. Anything you'd like! And, of course, there will be lots of whump!
For now, this is just an interest check. Interact with this post if you're interested. Reblogs highly encouraged!
Psychic made their way to Hero’s room about an hour or so after their arrival. They wanted to give their teammate some time to recover, at the very least. Some time to readapt to their home, their surroundings.
Opening the door to Hero’s room felt like opening the door into some place where something had been rotting, festering. The pain hit like some horrible stench, practically knocking Psychic backwards.
It hit all at once. It hit all at once, and it hurt.
Psychic barely caught sight of Hero, laying on their back in their bed, before they collapsed to their knees. Images flooded their mind, images of things that they couldn’t even begin to parcel out or describe. Pain, terror, that twisting sensation of nausea in their stomach, it all mixed together until they could barely keep down the breakfast that they had eaten.
Meanwhile, for a moment, Hero simply lay still. They were the unmistakable source of the horrible wave of energy, and yet there they lay, seemingly peaceful. Seemingly empty, even when they were clearly festering with so much pain.
One of the last things that Psychic saw before losing consciousness was Hero, leaning over them with wide, horrified eyes.
The world was quite black, after that.
Leader responded quickly to the sound of a terrible wailing from Hero’s room.
They had sent Psychic to check in on Hero, hoping that they, being perhaps kinder and more trusted by Hero than Leader was, would have some better luck in bringing Hero out of their shell.
Apparently, that hadn’t exactly been the best idea.
The door was already open to Hero’s room as Leader rushed down the hallway. Psychic lay in the doorway, with Hero crouched over them. At first, anger swirled in Leader’s chest-- What had Hero done?! Yet, it calmed quickly as they realized that Hero looked just as terrified as Leader themself felt. Psychic looked like they had collapsed, something that was uncommon but not unheard of when their powers consumed them.
“What happened?” Leader demanded, as though they expected an answer.
Hero opened their mouth, as if to speak, but no words came out. Breathy silence.
“Did you do this?” They insisted once more, to which Hero shook their head frantically. “Okay. Okay. I’m going to get them down to the med-bay, so Medic can have a look at them.”
Leader scooped Psychic, slight as they were, into their arms, and rushed off to the med-bay in the basement. They hardly noticed that Hero was hot on their heels, running with an energy that they hadn’t seen from them so far.
The med-bay, as did most medical facilities, stank of disinfectant, with the scent even slipping under the heavy steel door that divided the room from the rest of the base. Leader did not stop, trusting the automatic door to slide out of the way as they moved through, which it did. They burst into the med-bay with Hero still close behind.
Medic could be a rather intimidating presence, at times. They stayed mostly in their med-bay-- they insisted upon calling it as such, their med-bay-- rarely gracing the rest of the team with their appearance, unless strictly necessary. Yet, when it was strictly necessary, they were a life-saver.
Leader hoped they could fill that role right now, too.
Medic was stood over a steel table, looking into the eyepiece of a microscope, when the group barged in. Immediately, they stiffened, adjusting their glasses up on their nose.
“What’s going on? What happened?” They rushed over to Leader and Psychic.
“I’m not certain. I sent them to check on Hero, and I found them collapsed.” Leader answered.
Medic tilted their head to look past Leader, at Hero, who didn’t seem to have much to say, and their expression was equally silent. They refocused on Psychic, raising a hand and pressing the back of it against Psychic’s forehead.
“They’re warm. This feels like a power overload.”
“Are they going to be okay?”
“They’ll be fine. They just need to rest, and, I apologize, but if Hero is the source of this psychic overload, then it will be best if they leave.”
Leader gave a stiff nod.
“I’ll get them back to their room.”
“Good. I will monitor Psychic while they rest.”
“Thank you.”
And, with that, the two groups parted, with Medic taking Psychic into their arms to carry them over to one of the medical beds in the bay.
Psychic awoke blearily, their skull pounding as though someone were repeatedly striking a hammer against it. They groaned.
When they opened their eyes fully, they saw Medic, standing over them with their arms crossed.
“I believe we need to have a talk.”
End Transmission
Tag list: @fuckclimatechange @kayochine @funnymemesdude @jumpywhumpywriter @morning-star-whump
The ride home was a silent one. Leader attempted to initiate conversation several times, but Hero just nodded or hummed in reply. It made for all the interesting conversation as one could have with a brick wall.
That was okay, though. It was okay. Everything was okay. Hero was just going to need some time to adjust, to recover. They’d been through a lot, Leader reminded themself.
They just needed some time.
Back at base, the parking lot was underground. A ramp opened in front of the vehicle, sloping downwards, and Leader drove forward into the abyss as lights flicked on on either side. There was a hollow, echoing sound from the tires on concrete, something which felt like the only indicator of life down here.
They parked. Hero didn’t get out on their own. Leader went around the side of the vehicle and opened the door for them, and only then did they get out, holding that same plastic bag that they’d exited the office building with.
“What’s in the bag?” Leader asked, cautiously. They felt the need to treat Hero as though they were something made of glass, and, at the moment, that was probably the best option.
“Instructions.” Hero replied, one of the first words they’d spoken so far.
“Instructions?”
“And my clothes.”
Hero hesitated a moment before offering up the bag, holding it out. Leader could spy, inside, a manila folder, as well as Hero’s uniform, all wadded up at the bottom.
“Right.”
They took the bag.
“Youngest cleaned your room for you. They, um, wanted you to have a nice place to go when you came home. Are you tired? Do you want to take a nap?”
A vacant stare. No reply.
“...right. Okay. Let’s just go to your room, and figure things out from there.”
Their footsteps felt just as hollow as the tires of the car as they moved through the garage. Hero followed Leader like a statue, stopping when they stopped, practically breathing when they breathed.
The base was jittering with excitement at Hero’s return. It had been when Leader had left, and it still was, now. Yet, Leader had instructed the others already to stay out of their way, at least for the moment. Hero was going to need some time, the last thing they needed was to be immediately mobbed by the whole team.
Yet, as they walked the hallways, Leader was certain that the sensation of being watched was not all in their head. Perhaps it was Psychic, or even Youngest, using their powers to watch in on the affair.
Leader gave a glare to the void, and the sensation disappeared as whoever it was skittered away. Good. That was the last thing Hero needed.
They ascended the stairs to the second floor of the base, quickly navigating to Hero’s bedroom. As promised, it had been rendered impeccably clean: Bed made, curtains drawn, carpet vacuumed to spotless perfection.
Hero stared forwards.
Leader stopped in the middle of the room. Hero stopped perfectly at their side, looking on as though waiting for further direction.
“You can lay down, if you want. Or- Or whatever. Your computer is right there.” Leader gestured to the desk in the room, where a laptop lay, closed and mildly dusty.
Hero just looked at them. Leader felt an involuntary fist shake at their side.
This wasn’t right. This didn’t make sense, this wasn’t-
They’d imagined this moment plenty of times. They’d imagined Hero running out of whatever dingy office building-- No, flying out of whatever dingy office building. They’d imagined a great feast to celebrate their return, tears and hugs to go along with it all.
Not this. Not an empty expression, not a pair of empty eyes.
“...Hero?” Leader turned to look at them. If Hero had even heard them, it wasn’t abundantly clear on their face.
“Hero.” They repeated, firmer this time. Now, Hero’s gaze rose to greet them, their back stiffening. “Hero, what did they do to you?”
Leader tried, as per usual, to keep their emotions from their voice, but it was exceedingly difficult, especially now. Especially while looking at those empty eyes.
Hero’s gaze turned, for once, on its own, to where Leader had left the bag of their items on the bed.
“Instructions.” Hero spoke.
“Instructions.” Leader echoed. “You… Want me to read them?”
A blank face.
“Right. Let’s read some instructions.”
They made their way over to the bed and took the manila folder from the bag. Hero didn’t move.
Opening the folder, Leader was immediately met with a rather garish title page, featuring some overdone letterhead from The Reformatory. It made them feel sick, the spiralling lines and bright colors, like it was something from a daycare and not a prison.
Next page.
If you’re reading this, you have just picked up your teammate from one of our discharge centers. Congratulations! It is always exciting to have a teammate home again.
You may notice some odd behavior from your teammate, at first. Here at The Reformatory, our patented rehabilitation techniques can be rather intense, and it may take a few days for your teammate to adjust to no longer being in our program.
Not to worry! You can rest assured that your teammate, having gone through our program, is now better than ever, and no longer a danger to society.
Leader wanted to tear the pages apart and toss them in the nearest open fire. Instead, they opted for just closing the folder and tossing it on the desk. The thud made Hero stiffen.
“Sorry.” Leader apologized immediately. “I- I didn’t mean to scare you. How about you go take a nap? I’m going to go talk to Psychic, okay?”
Hero nodded, laid down, closed their eyes, and went perfectly still. If Leader did not know better, they would have thought them to have died.
End Transmission
Tag list: @fuckclimatechange
Next up: Hero meets with Psychic, who learns that something is deeply, deeply wrong
Sedation - whumpee so out of it and so very vulnerable
Mentally controlling Whumpers who gaslight their whumpees into believing they're mentally ill
Strapped to a metal table
IVs pumping unknown drugs into whumpee's system (I don't particularly like the general Box Boy whump but I love the idea of the Drip, so give me more of that!)
Thinking about a power suppressant drug or device that leaves a hero/ villain weak and dizzy and exhausted or has very harsh side effects . and their rival being furious about it
Incredibly well known and equally hated Villan/antagonist who is finally beaten into submission and apprehended. Only to end up hot-potato kidnapped and hurt over and over while at their most vulnerable.
Chained, collared, muzzled even. Powers inhibited and crippled from the fight that cost them their freedom they're a sitting duck.
Word spreads fast. Much faster than the heroes/protagonists are prepared for.
Whether it's for their owed pound of flesh, valuable secrets, or upping their street cred, anyone who's anyone knows that now is the perfect chance. Probably their only chance.
Cue a string of violent kidnappings: Villain getting ping-ponged between an opposing sides. At the mercy of whoever has their hands on them at whatever point their at. Unable to share secrets they aren't aware of. The only thing they can give that satisfies them is blood. Taken easily, given unwillingly.
Not a second of quiet the whole time is nothing but chaos and fighting.
hey can't get their bearings or use their silver tongue because before they make a dent they're taken again.
Hurt, again.
Its endless... Until a sympathetic face appears. Intentions unclear. Maybe they did have malicious intent, but at this point there is not much fight in somone whose barely kicking. Struggling to even breath after being torn into by every passing set of teeth that've smiled their way.
They press a hand to their face, nearly tender. Whether the new stranger is leading them to death, a hospital, or a cell they know they'll have no choice. Not now as their vision blinks away. All they are fading into the kind embrace of unconsciousness.
Summary: After six months in the infamous Reformatory, Hero is finally freed, and Leader goes to pick them up. However, something seems terribly wrong with their friend.
No one knew where it was, save for those who worked there, and those with an extensive level of security clearance.
No one knew what happened on the inside, at least not until you were already through its doors.
It was simply a place where people disappeared to. Rarely did the same people come out the other side.
Leader’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel as they sailed down the highway. It felt strange, driving like this. They should have been flying, should have been free, with the air whipping past them on either side.
This meeting, however, had to be discreet, and there were few things less discreet than a human figure zipping through the air over Metropolis.
So, instead, they sat in their government-issue vehicle. Even after two years of owning the thing, it still had a bit of that new car smell, the scent of fresh upholstery and manufacturing. They made a point to keep it clean, and as a result it felt rather as though it had just been driven off the lot. Only a bottle of water in the cupholder indicated otherwise.
Of course, the meeting wasn’t occurring at The Reformatory itself. Doing so would ruin such a carefully guarded secret. No, this particular meeting was taking place at an innocuous government office downtown. Just a meeting location, just a place to make a trade.
That was what it felt like, at least. A trade. “Thank you for your cooperation, here is your reward.”
The thought of it all was starting to make nausea twist in Leader’s stomach, and so they cast those ideas away. They had to stay focused.
Hero had been sentenced to The Reformatory for six months. For a civilian, it would have been a rather short sentence, especially given the crime. Numerous government bases destroyed, countless injuries, millions of dollars in damages. A civilian would’ve received life in prison.
Instead, Hero received six months in The Reformatory, and according to those that Leader had talked to, that was perhaps worse.
They had heard rumors about the place, countless rumors, even before the International Court of Superhuman Justice had handed down Hero’s sentence. People spoke about it like some kind of monster under the bed. They said that, when deciding upon how long to sentence someone to the place, they counted each day spent at The Reformatory to be equal to a month in a regular prison.
Six months. 180 days. 180 months. 15 years.
That was all just a rumor, of course. Leader knew that. Rumors like that were always terribly overblown. It was all a game of telephone, the same piece of information being passed from mouth to mouth until it had lost all semblance of truth.
The GPS indicated for Leader to take the next exit, and they did so. They wound through one-way streets and heavy traffic before, finally, making it to their destination.
The building was grey and rendered in stone. There was no signage indicating its purpose, no signage at all, in fact, unless you counted the simple building number.
Inside could have been anything.
Leader took a deep breath, steadying themself. They allowed their hands to fall from the wheel.
Inside that building could have been anything. They just had to hope that there was still some of Hero left in there.
They messaged their contact on their communicator, indicating that they had arrived. They had been given strict instructions not to leave the vehicle. Hero would come to them.
Leader waited. It took nearly 15 minutes to hear back, time which they spent anxiously glancing around. It was instinct, the desire to gather as much information about a scene as possible. An instinct honed from years of combat and protecting the city.
Years of protecting the city, and this was what they got: A teammate pulled away from them and subjected to who-knows-what.
Back when the sentence had been handed down, their team was up in arms. It was absurd, punishing someone who had done so much for the city.
Leader had quieted them. Hero had hurt people, a lot of people. If a civilian could be punished, then so could a hero. It was only right, only just.
This whole thing was starting to feel less and less like justice.
At long last, the door to the building opened. Out stepped two people:
The first was an agent of some sort, wearing a black uniform, their hair cropped short. Their expression indicated that they were all business, not exactly keen on pleasantries.
Good. Leader wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, either.
The second person was Hero.
They were dressed in what looked like pajamas, deep blue and baggy, with an elastic waistband on the pants. In one hand, they carried a plastic grocery bag, weighed down with something.
It took every ounce of restraint that Leader had in them not to simply burst out of the vehicle at that instant.
Instead, they took their time to examine Hero. There was a sort of dragging motion to their gait, as though they were reluctant to move forward with every step. Their hair had been cut, at some point, though it looked rather clean and well taken care of. That was perhaps a good descriptor of their entire physical appearance: Clean, well taken care of.
However, their expression indicated anything but.
They looked exhausted, eyelids drooping. They looked terribly unsure of themself, gaze continually glancing at the agent.
Hero. Confident, fun-loving, excitable Hero.
What had happened to them?
The two approached the vehicle, with the agent opening the door to the backseat-- not the passenger’s seat, notably. Hero got in without a fuss, setting down the bag at their side. Their posture shifted, their whole body becoming hunched over and small, as though they were trying to protect their vulnerable front.
The agent closed the door to the vehicle, wordlessly.
