Whumptober 2025 : No. 30: “I’m putting my trust in an entire half-empty glass.” Burn it Down | Mirror | Confrontation
Hello, here's my very late contribution for day 30 of Whumptober 2025, for the prompt “Mirror". It's OC whump.
Captivity, multiple whumpees, teens/children whumpees and one adult whumpee, parental/possessive whumper, touchy/creepy whumper, forced domesticity, dehumanisation by forcing someone to wear specific clothes, angst, dissociation, carewhumper. Justine is very uncomfortable with the reminder that she’s a girl in a context of captivity. Check the tags just in case and you should be good! And I will make a post about lore one day (i'm going to add this at every post and never do it).
JUSTINE (3 WEEKS AND 3 DAYS)
“Everyone, come to the living room!” is the first thing Hélios orders when they step out of their rooms.
Justine follows the others. They all reach the living room to find two huge bags set down in front of the couch, and a full-length mirror. Hélios opens one of the bags to reveal… clothes. Piles and piles of clothes in every color and size.
“Help yourselves!” he announces cheerfully.
There’s a stunned silence. They all just stare at him. Loan clenches his fists, and for a second Justine thinks he’s about to speak—and that’s a terrifying thought, because every time Loan opens his mouth, he seems to end up with another injury—but thankfully, her father reacts first.
“This is… all for us?” he asks cautiously, his voice wary. Justine understands. Where could this man have found so many different kinds of clothes?
“All for you,” Hélios confirms. “Well, except the ones that don’t fit, obviously. I didn’t really sort them, but I grabbed clothes in a size range that should let most of you restock your wardrobe a bit. You don’t have much right now.”
That’s especially true for her and her father. He’s been wearing Hélios’s clothes, way too big for him, and Justine has been sharing some of her wardrobe with Loan.
“That’s a lot of clothes,” Loan says suspiciously.
“That’s secondhand,” Hélios replies smoothly, perfectly relaxed. “Everything’s clean and in good shape. I grabbed a little of everything, but since you’ve all been so well-behaved lately, you can tell me if you want something more specific. Christmas is coming, isn’t it?”
Justine’s throat tightens. Christmas. She’s never spent Christmas without her cousins, her aunts and uncles, her grandparents. A family holiday, one she doesn’t want to see stained by this man.
They won’t spend Christmas here, right? They’ll be rescued before then. Of course they will. She clings to that hope.
“Well?” Hélios presses, crossing his arms over his navy-blue sweater. “Go on, come take a look.”
It’s that note of impatience in his tone that finally makes them move. Her father steps forward hesitantly, starting to look carefully through the bags. Justine follows. He gives her a small, strained smile, then begins pulling out piles of clothing. Hélios watches them with satisfaction, then goes to open the other bag. The movement makes Justine flinch, but he doesn’t come any closer, he just empties the second bag, stacking piles of clothes on the coffee table.
Reassured by the distance, Justine focuses again on what her father’s taking out. Hélios wasn’t lying about the variety. Tailored pants, thick fabric trousers, pajamas, shirts in every color, plain and printed T-shirts, sweaters, hoodies, and—what makes her shiver—dresses and skirts.
She’s the only girl, so it’s obvious who those clothes are meant for. But Justine isn’t sure she wants to wear anything like that here. Too much exposure. Too much… femininity.
Carefully, she sets them aside and focuses on the rest. By now, Lucien and Loan have moved closer too, peeking into the bags.
“Pick whatever you like,” Hélios says from across the room.
Justine glances at her father. He gives her a tense little smile and a nod of encouragement, handing her a thick forest-green wool sweater, then steps aside to let the two boys approach. Loan’s jaw is tight, his body restless, but he still moves forward with Lucien. Her father keeps sorting the clothes by size. Hélios does the same on his side.
Loan refuses to touch anything, but Lucien finally shows some interest. He and Justine look through the piles together. He timidly picks out two pairs of pants, a thick blue-and-yellow hoodie that’s a bit too big that Justine hands him, two wool sweaters, one red and one white, a few T-shirts, and two sets of pajamas.
Justine manages to find a large burgundy sweater, the forest-green one from her father, a cream hoodie, a pair of brown velvet overalls, two pairs of pants, two T-shirts, and an oversized flannel shirt, soft and warm.
Her father’s taken a few shirts, pants, T-shirts, and sweaters.
Hélios watches with satisfaction. “I’m done sorting the second bag. You can come see.”
In addition to the clothes, that bag also contains brand-new underwear for each of them. Justine feels heat rush to her face. It’s stupid, she knows it, but having to depend on this man for something so basic as underwear…
Her father gently wraps an arm around her shoulders when she lowers her head.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly.
Justine leans against him a little. She looks up and flinches when she meets Hélios’s eyes. There’s a hunger in his gaze that terrifies her. Her flinch seems to pull him out of a daze. He blinks, then smiles and gestures toward the rest of the clothes.
“Take a look. Loan,” he adds, “if you don’t want to choose, I can always take away the ones you’ve already got.”
“That sounds creepy as fuck, but I can’t say I’m surprised,” the teenager shoots back immediately.
There’s a second of silence before Hélios speaks again, his voice much harder.
“I suggest you stop making jokes like that. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know, keeping three teenagers locked up in your house, threatening to take away their clothes—kind of sounds weird. Like a… well, you get the idea.”
His tone is slow and insolent. Justine can’t breathe. She feels Hélios’s aura vibrating through the room, slowly thickening around them in response to his anger.
“Hélios, can I try these on?” her father says suddenly. For a second, it seems like Hélios won’t answer, too focused on Loan. But her father waves one of the shirts in his hand a little, still speaking calmly.
“This one looks a bit small.”
And suddenly, the mage turns. Justine holds her breath, because all his attention shifts to her father, and she swears the pressure in the room is going to make her heart explode. Instead, Hélios’s power dissipates abruptly. She has to bite her tongue to stifle a gasp. She doesn’t know how her father manages to withstand that without flinching.
“Oh, you’ll all try them on,” Hélios says.
A beat of silence. Then the words sink in.
“Couldn’t we just keep them like this?” Justine blurts out. She immediately regrets it under his gaze.
“No. I want to see how they look. Plus, if something really doesn’t fit, I can take it back right away. You can use the bathroom to change, one at a time.”
“That’s… Hélios, there are a lot of clothes, it’ll take us all afternoon,” Api argues.
“All afternoon, huh?” the man snorts, rolling his eyes. “Well, then I guess we’d better start immediately. Api, since you’re volunteering, go change. And come back after each outfit so we can see how it looks. Oh, and if you boys don’t want to waste too much time, you can change your tops here. I’ll turn around if that worries you. Justine, same goes for you, though I understand if you’d rather use the bathroom.”
Her father hesitates. He gives her a tense look, then clenches his teeth. “This is a little stressful…”
“That’s just trying on clothes in the living room. There’s nothing stressful about that.”
“They’re kids, they’re nervous,” her father insists. “It’s… important for children to have a choice about things like this. It’s important to ask for their consent.”
Justine understands what he’s trying to do. It’s not working.
“That’s just clothes,” Hélios replies. “They need to be exposed to stressful things (he snorts) to realize there’s nothing to be nervous about. Come on, there’s nothing to fear. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Her father presses his lips together, staying still. Hélios narrows his eyes.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice, healer.”
Hélios has made the power dynamic between them very clear. It’s one of the first things he taught them: he’s much stronger than they are, and he’s not afraid to use force.
Justine’s heart climbs up her throat as a memory surfaces. Being dragged into her bedroom, hearing Loan and her father’s screams of pain, being allowed back downstairs with Lucien without seeing either of them, seeing blood everywhere on the hallway floor, scrubbing those dark stains for hours until her hands were swollen and raw. She’s going to cry.
“Alright,” her father says suddenly, giving in. “I’ll go put on one of the pants right now and come back for the shirts.”
He leaves quickly, shooting them a nervous glance on the way out. Hélios looks pleased. He turns toward the three frozen teens and gestures toward the remaining piles.
“Well, go on. Look while Api’s gone. Or try on what you picked, whichever you want. Loan, I meant what I said.”
Justine glances at the older boy in fear, but the teenager stiffly steps forward and starts searching through the piles, irritated, not bothering to refold anything he unfolds. Hélios makes an irritated motion, and Loan lets out a small yelp of pain, rubbing his arm where a magic spark hits him and glaring at the man.
“Make an effort,” Hélios growls. “Last warning.”
Loan visibly swallows back an insult. But he bends down and starts handling the clothes more carefully. Justine swallows hard and steps forward too, Lucien following behind.
She finds a few more T-shirts and another pair of pants. There’s a thick purple hoodie that Loan had set aside. Justine looks at it longingly. Without looking at her, Loan hands it to her.
“Oh,” Justine says, surprised. “Uh, you can keep it—”
“No, take it. Nothing really looks good to me anyway. Just keep it.”
She sees Hélios roll his eyes and mutter something about “dramatic teenagers.”
“Thanks,” she murmurs, taking the hoodie.
When her father comes back, wearing grey pants and a cream-colored shirt that actually fits, Hélios lets out an appreciative sound.
“Ah, the size is pretty good! Come here.”
He grabs Api by the wrist, pulling him in front of the mirror, fussing with the collar—already perfectly straight—then smoothing down the sleeves. Her father stands rigid and motionless, clearly uncomfortable but not daring to protest.
“Perfect,” Hélios says with satisfaction.
He gestures toward the rest of the clothes. “Alright, let’s keep going!”
The fittings continue like that for all of them. He sends them off to try on their clothes, and when they return, it’s always the same: hands straightening collars, smoothing fabric, brushing through hair, fixing sleeves.
Justine trembles like a leaf when Hélios appears behind her in the mirror, blocking the comforting look her father gives her. His large figure looms, and then his hand settles on her shoulder. He gives her a nearly proud smile.
“You look very nice, Justine.”
She doesn’t dare move away.
They get through the ordeal in silence, a dance of clenched jaws and tense bodies.
It’s almost over, almost the last outfit, when Hélios decides to take things a step further. Just as Justine is about to put on her final sweater, without needing to go to the bathroom, he stops her with a gentle hand on her arm.
“Wait, Justine. I’d like you to try these on.”
And he hands her not one, not two, but three dresses. Two of them are wool, more like sweater dresses, thick, the kind she might find comfortable under any other circumstance.
The third is satin, pearl gray.
It looks like a… not exactly a party dress, but a feminine one. It doesn’t reveal anything, but the cut is refined, delicate, elegant, and Justine feels bile rising in her throat, because this is exactly the kind of thing she wants to avoid here.
He pushes them into her hands with a smile. She realizes she’s shaking slightly.
“She didn’t pick those,” her father cuts in suddenly, stepping forward, while Justine’s voice stays trapped in her throat.
“No,” Hélios agrees, “but she only chose pants. It’d be good for her to have dresses, too. I picked them out for her. She should at least try them on.”
She doesn’t want to. She really doesn’t. But she can’t make the words come out.
“She doesn’t like dresses,” her father lies without hesitation.
“She can still try them,” Hélios replies casually. “Maybe she’ll like it once she sees them on.”
“Hélios. The kids’ consent matters,” her father insists. “If she doesn’t want to-”
“Justine,” the mage cuts him off. “Go change”
And she already recognizes that tone. It’s the one that means his patience is thinning, that he’s close to losing it, that they’ll be forced to obey. And Justine remembers the color of her father’s blood on the floor, and-
She tightens her fingers around the clothes.
Her father gives her a shocked look, but she avoids his eyes. She doesn’t want to see Hélios’s satisfied smile either, so she focuses instead on Loan’s furious expression, drawing strength from it as she rushes toward the bathroom before either adult can say another word.
The wool dresses… fit her. They’re the kind of dresses she likes, warm, comfortable, practical. Hélios makes a delighted sound when he sees her. Her father looks furious, but he can’t risk saying anything anymore. Hélios keeps making compliments while he’s tugging at the fabric on her shoulders. She gives a weak smile, nods, and watches the girl in the mirror do the same.
“Alright, now try the last one,” their captor encourages her.
Her numb fingers tremble as she pulls the satin dress over her body. It doesn’t fit perfectly, but well enough to make her stomach twist. She’s going to cry. She swallows hard as the bathroom mirror reflects her upper body. The gray satin making her skin look even paler.
She steps back into the room with a fake, shy smile. Hélios looks ecstatic. Her father looks seconds away from screaming. Loan turns his head away, and Lucien stares at her anxiously.
She smiles at Hélios. He smooths a sleeve, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, then turns her toward the mirror so she can see herself fully.
Justine looks at the pretty little doll in the mirror smiling back at her. Hélios stands behind the doll, a wide smile on his face. His fingers stroke her hair. Her face hurts from holding the smile.
“You look beautiful,” the mage says softly. “Don’t you think so?”
She can see in his eyes that he’s waiting for more. She brushes her fingers over the shimmering fabric.
“It’s really lovely. Thank you, Hélios.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’m glad it makes you happy. And you boys, what do you think?”
“…As long as Justine’s happy,” her father mutters, and even though she knows the bitterness isn’t directed at her, she still flinches.
Loan shrugs without replying. Lucien makes a face that might be a smile if not for the fixed, trapped rabbit look in his eyes.
When Hélios asks, the Justine in the mirror says she’ll keep all three.
