#cw solitary confinement

[howlsofbloodhounds]

do yall think when color was fresh out the Void he’d have a panic attack or a meltdown if he tried to take a shower too quickly (and alone) due to the overwhelming painful sights, sensations, and sounds (especially if it hits his broken skull and it hurts and he worries his flames will extinguish and his skull will finally finish cracking) but he also puts himself through it sometimes when it’s too quiet and still

did he have a fear of the shower for awhile

did delta and/or epic have to sit outside the shower on the floor or cabinet for color to even go near it himself because color couldn’t even stand being physically touched for too long without breaking down even if he also was crying tears of relief and joy

[goldammerchen]

1949: When Gilbert Beilschmidt was about to be transferred to the soon to be the new East German authorities, he is abducted. #hetahorror24 day 3: Basement/Buried Alive

@hetahorrorweek

[ash-isnt-writing]

Whumptober 3, 2023

Characters used/mentioned:

-Zuriel Damaris (OC that belongs to @v-3-ll-1-ch-0-r / @v-3-ll-1-g-0-r-3 )

-Madison Maguire (OC that also belongs to previously mentioned @v-3-ll-1-ch-0-r )

-Rayan Hyacinth (OC that, a third time, belongs to @v-3-ll-1-ch-0-r )

-Vanté Ramirez (OC)

A/N: I came up with this one off the cuff. Not much thought went into it 😭

=====================================

STS had once used solitary confinement as a method to correct misbehaving test subjects. They also allowed them a journal.

Now, years later, Vanté had kept that journal for some reason. He’d never mentioned what it was, just said it was ‘an old keepsake to help him remember the past’.

Vanté had recently left Zuriel with Maddie since he was off on a global tour, and knew that he couldn’t just leave Zuriel at home, so it��d be better off at Maddie’s.

Of course, being curious as it was, Zuriel went to look through Vanté’s room while he was away. It found the previously mentioned journal in a drawer, and, not understanding the contents, it handed it to Madiosn.

“Ma!!” Zuriel called as it rushed downstairs, a wide smile on it’s face, oblivious that this wasn’t a positive thing. “I I found!!”

Madison, curious, turned to face him, pausing and then gently taking the journal. Another? It didn’t look anything like the one Rayan had. Pristine white, hard cover instead of ring-bound, with an unfamiliar logo on the front and back, similar to the one imprinted on Vanté’s shoulder.

So that begged the question. What was inside?

Carefully opening it, she noticed the pages were yellowed and a little degraded, and.. bloodied, but it was still readable. The words themselves were the chilling part.

It was Vanté’s. Her eyes skimmed over the pages.

‘Date: I don’t fucking know anymore. They tossed me in this dark fucking room, threw a “pen” and this… thing, at me. I’m meant to fuckin write in it, I guess? I don’t fucking know. I just wanna get out of here. I’ve lost count of how many decades it’s been. I don’t even remember how old I am.’

‘Da Why am I even bothering to write the date? I don’t fucking know what the date is. I can’t stop fucking bleeding, why should I care? They locked me in this fucking room again. I have half the mind to bash my head against the wall until I bleed just to see if it’d kill me.’

‘I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. I’m gonna fucking scream. I’m gonna murder the next man in uniform that fucking touches me. I don’t want to do this anymore. Please. Make it stop.’

Make it stop. She had to close the journal after that sentence. Make it stop. Rayan’s had said the same.

“What’s wrong?” Zuriel asked, snapping Madison from her thoughts. She had to focus. She had to.

“..Nothing, kiddo” She smiled. “Just, uhm- don’t tell your Dad we found this, okay?”

=====================================

[drfrankensteinvsthequeerborgs]

Dean: "I've been to Hell. This was worse."

FUCK. SOLITARY.

[reasonsforhope]

"The New York City Council voted to ban most uses of solitary confinement in city jails Wednesday [December 20, 2023], passing the measure with enough votes to override a veto from Mayor Eric Adams.

The measure would ban the use of solitary confinement beyond four hours and during certain emergencies. That four hour period would be for "de-escalation" in situations where a detainee has caused someone else physical harm or risks doing so. The resolution would also require the city's jails to allow every person detained to spend at least 14 hours outside of their cells each day.

The bill, which had 38 co-sponsors, was passed 39 to 7. It will now go to the mayor, who can sign the bill or veto it within 30 days. If Mayor Adams vetoes the bill, it will get sent back to the council, which can override the veto with a vote from two-thirds of the members. The 39 votes for the bill today make up 76% of the 51-member council. At a press conference ahead of the vote today [December 20, 2023], Council speaker Adrienne Adams indicated the council would seek [a veto] override if necessary.

For his part, Mayor Adams has signaled he is indeed considering vetoing the bill...

The United Nations has said solitary confinement can amount to torture, and multiple studies suggest its use can have serious consequences on a person's physical and mental health, including an increased risk of PTSD, dying by suicide, and having high blood pressure.

One 2019 study found people who had spent time in solitary confinement in prison were more likely to die in the first year after their release than people who had not spent time in solitary confinement. They were especially likely to die from suicide, homicide and opioid overdose.

Black and Hispanic men have been found to be overrepresented among those placed in solitary confinement – as have gay, lesbian and bisexual people.

The resolution in New York comes amid scrutiny over deaths in the jail complex on Rikers Island. Last month, the federal government joined efforts to wrest control of the facility from the mayor, and give it to an outside authority.

In August 2021, 25-year-old Brandon Rodriguez died while in solitary confinement at Rikers. He had been in pre-trial detention at the jail for less than a week. His mother, Tamara Carter, says his death was ruled a suicide and that he was in a mental health crisis at the time of his confinement.

"I know for Brandon, he should have been put in the infirmary. He should have been seeing a psychiatrist. He should have been being watched," she said.

She says the passage of the bill feels like a form of justice for her.

"Brandon wasn't nothing. He was my son. He was an uncle. A brother. A grandson. And he's very, very missed," she told NPR. "I couldn't save my son. But if I joined this fight, maybe I could save somebody else's son." ...

New York City is not the first U.S. city to limit the use of solitary confinement in its jails, though it is the largest. In 2021, voters in Pennsylvania's Allegheny County, which includes Pittsburgh, passed a measure to restrict solitary confinement except in cases of lockdowns and emergencies. The sheriff in Illinois' Cook County, which includes Chicago, has said the Cook County jail – one of the country's largest – has also stopped using solitary confinement...

Naila Awan, the interim co-director of policy at the New York Civil Liberties Union, says that New York making this change could have larger influence across the country.

"As folks look at what New York has done, other larger jails that are not quite the size of Rikers will be able to say, 'If New York City is able to do this, then we too can implement similar programs here, that it's within our capacity and capabilities," Awan says. "And to the extent that we are able to get this implemented and folks see the success, I think we could see a real shift in the way that individuals are treated behind bars.""

-via NPR, December 20, 2023

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: day two

Prompt: Solitary Confinement

Prompt from @febuwhump

Tw: violence, claustrophobia (explicit), blood, general brutality, strong Whumper, (if I missed anything lmk, sorry I’m tired)

P.S. — the pronouns for both characters is male, it might get patchy sometimes but just from the outset, okay enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

A hand curling into Whumpee’s shirt and hauling him  out of bed in the dead of night was his wake-up call. Whumpee eyes shot open in the darkness, panic seizing his chest as he seized the wrist of the hand, his legs hit the floor but turned to jelly, his bare feet finding no purchase.

“Wha—!” Whumpee cried in alarm, legs kicking uselessly at his attacker. The hand in his shirt bunched the fabric and another was on Whumpee’s hip. The next thing Whumpee knew they were weightless until his back thumped into the wall across the room, winding them, as they fell to the ground with a dull thud and a gasp.

Whumpee had only got his hands under him when they got a kick to the ribs. It lifted Whumpee’s body off the floor, before another more forceful followed. The impact sent Whumpee back into the wall gasping, his head knocking off the wall leaving him  dazed.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out, Whumpee?” Whumper’s voice said from above Whumpee, fury hidden behind the eerie calm of his voice.

“Wh—” Whumpee gasped, the words catching in his throat. Whumpee coughed trying to clear it which gave Whumper another reason to kick him in the ribs again.

Whumpee wrestled his arms down over his ribs trying to protect him futilely, but Whumper just kept kicking. The final kick stomped down on Whumpee’s back as they tried to get to his hands and knees. Whumpee hit the floor with a pained oomph.

Whumpee coughed pathetically, rasping in breaths to fill his lungs but every breath felt like a dagger in his chest.

A hand balled into the back of Whumpee’s shirt and started to drag Whumpee out the door of his room into the hall. The fabric of his pyjama bottoms sliding easily across the hall, mixed with the lame sounds of Whumpee’s feet screeching across the wood trying to get to his feet.

“Get up Whumpee,” Whumper told him without letting Whumpee go or slowing enough to let Whumpee get to his feet. Out of sheer will Whumpee pushed themselves to his hands and started half crawling on all fours. Half crawling, because Whumper would pull him at the worst times and Whumpee would slip and have to start the process over again.

Whumper dragged Whumpee to the stairs and didn’t slow or push Whumpee down like Whumpee thought they would. Instead, Whumper dragged Whumpee down the stairs and when Whumpee twisted in his hold Whumper let go and Whumpee tumbled half way down them.

They landed with his back against the railing, mouth open in a silent scream at the fire of pain that raced through his ribs and chest and back. They stared up pathetically at Whumper as he descended, the moonlight and shadows painting him  more like a monster than a man.

Whumper crouched down, catching Whumpee’s cheeks in between his thumb and forefinger and pinching him until Whumpee cried out.

“Look at you. Pathetic. To think I had a bit of respect for you, if I’m honest, that you would even dare to fight against me.”

“Fuck you—” Whumpee said, but his jaw groaned at them, and all that they managed was “uck—ou” but still the sentiment was there.

“Don’t worry, Whumpee, we’ll get that nasty defiant streak out of you yet. I’ll never give up on you. You have too much potential to let you go.”

Whumper let go of Whumpee’s face then sent a swift punch to his cheekbone. Whumpee’s head whipped to the side with the impact, crying out. Whumper’s fingers captured Whumpee’s chin and tilted his head back to stare forward. Another swift punch to the cheek and Whumpee gasped. Whumper stood in one fluid motion and kicked Whumpee down the rest of the steps.

Whumpee landed starfish on the ground, his head bouncing off the ground and rattling his brain. Whumpee grit his teeth when Whumper bunched a hand into the back of his shirt again but Whumpee was ready this time and was already pushing themselves up to his feet.

Whumper yanked him the rest of the way to standing and then shoved him forward.

“Atta boy, Whumpee,” Whumper praised as Whumpee stumbled, catching themselves to stop themselves from falling again. Whumpee strode passed Whumpee, practically skipping as he said, “come along Whumpee.”

Whumpee froze when Whumper opened the door to stairs that led to the basement. Whumpee’s legs were like lead as they approached the door, and looked down to see Whumper grinning up at them. Whumper tilted his head at Whumpee, tsking him for lingering by the door.

“Come now, Whumpee, this isn’t the time to be brave,” Whumper said in his smooth, condescending voice. “You don’t want to be in more trouble than you already are, do you?”

Whumpee swallowed hard, helpless tears pinching at the corners of his eyes. They steeled themselves as they descended the stairs towards Whumper, who, after threatening him had already turned to open the basement door, knowing with complete certainty that Whumpee would follow.

The door was made of steel to ensure it couldn’t be broken down, no matter how hard you tried to claw or punch or scream at it. It didn’t bend, or break, or even flinch sympathetically at Whumpee, it just stood like Whumper: cold, stoic, solid.

Whumpee smothered a gasp when his bare feet hit the cement floor, wrapping his arms around themselves as they shivered. Whumpee stepped further into the basement, dread weighing down heavy on his shoulders.

Whumper… he couldn’t know for sure, right? He couldn’t… Whumpee had been so careful.

Whumpee flinched as Whumper shut the door. The turn of the lock sealing his fate. Whumper hung his overcoat and scarf on the coat rack, he kept the suit jacket on which was good. When he took that off and his tie Whumpee knew they really fucked up.

Maybe he doesn’t know, Whumpee dared to hope. They just stared as Whumper walked around to the wall of torture instruments, eyes and body following every movement.

“Tell me, Whumpee, why do you think I dragged you out of bed at 4 in the morning?” Whumper asked, as his eyes roamed over the many instruments designed to cause Whumpee pain.

“Because you’re a sadistic fuck?” Whumpee supplied sweetly.

Whumper laughed. “Mmm, no, but points for style. Try again.”

Whumpee swallowed, tightening his grip on his arms to stop themselves from shaki— shivering. They were shivering because they were cold.

“I don’t know,” Whumpee said, voice quiet. Whumper looked at him over his shoulder, a coy smile on his face.

“Come on, Whumpee. Tell me again what’s my number one rule in the basement?”

Whumpee trailed his gaze just behind Whumper’s head to the wall of horror, not wanting to look in Whumper’s eyes when he said quietly: “no lying.”

“What was that Whumpee? You’re mumbling.”

“No lying,” Whumpee ground out, angry eyes going back to Whumper’s face. Whumper’s smile only grew as he stared at Whumpee. Then he turned his body towards Whumpee and took a menacing step forward. Whumpee had to fight the urge to take a step back.

“Actually, why ruin a good thing we had going?” Whumper asked, shrugging off his jacket. Whumpee’s blood ran cold as Whumper threw his jacket over the chair that Whumpee had been tied to so many times.

Whumper pulled at his tie, loosening the knot.

“Wait!”

The word was out of his mouth before Whumpee could stop it, fear seizing his throat but Whumper paused and that let some relief flood Whumpee’s body.

Whumper smiled kindly at Whumpee. “Yes Whumpee?” He asked innocently.

Whumpee licked his lips, searching for a tangible reason they asked for Whumper to stop other than to delay the inevitable beating.

Whumper tilted his head to the side, lips forming a pout. Whumpee’s heart slammed against his chest, his mind racing as they tried to form a single reason to stop Whumper.

“Why did you bring me down here?” Whumpee tried. If they tried hard enough they could try and play innocent.

Whumper’s smile left his eyes but stayed on his lips, reminding Whumpee of a stray cat who was killing mice just for fun when they were already full.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Whumpee,” Whumper said simply, a smile in his voice as he undid his tie and left it loose over his white button down. Whumper took a step towards Whumpee and this time Whumpee matched it with one back.

“Whumper please,” Whumpee pleaded desperately. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me.”

Whumper shrugged, matching Whumpee step for step. “It’s never bothered me before that you don’t know the reason.”

Whumpee stepped around the medical table, putting it between them, giving him some space from the predator stalking them.

“Yes,” Whumpee blurted. “Yes it has!”

That caused Whumper to pause. “Explain.”

“You— you,” fuck Whumpee! Explain! “You want to teach me a lesson, right? Lesson 1: the golden rule, no lying right? You can’t just attack me for no reason or— or I won’t learn how I disappointed you, right?!”

Right?

Whumper let out a bark of humourless laughter that could curdle Whumpee’s blood. The hairs on the back of his neck prickling, his mind screaming at him to run.

“You know what Whumpee…” Whumper trailed off thoughtfully. “You are right. I do like to teach you lessons. Although, clearly, I need to re-educate on what I constitute as lying. You do remember that omissions count as lying.”

Whumpee’s bottom lip started to wobble, so they bit it to keep it from trembling as Whumper stepped around the table.

“Remind me again,” Whumper said with a step forward, “how did we rectify that situation? How did I teach you about lying?”

Whumpee blanched. “No. No. Nononono,” they protested, backing up as they spoke, hands raised defensively in front of him when his back hit the wall. “No, Whumper please— anything but that, please!”

Whumper grinned, showing his teeth at seeing Whumpee had nowhere else to go. So he took his time in advancing on Whumpee, focusing on the dramatic, really wanting to scare the shit out of Whumpee.

“Oh Whumpee…” Whumper sighed. “Whumpee, Whumpee, Whumpee,” he said, punctuating each use of Whumpee’s name with another step until he was right in front of Whumpee, looking down on Whumpee with that toothy, wolfish grin.

Whumper reached a hand up to thumb away the tears on Whumpee’s face. Whumpee flinched at the contact. They were shaking violently, wanting to shove Whumper’s hand off him but they didn’t want to do anything to aggravate him further.

“Whumpee, this punishment will go away if you just tell me, honestly why I brought you down here. Hmm?”

Whumpee swallowed the lump in his throat trying to get rid of it, but it stayed stubbornly lodged there making it harder to breathe to speak to think.

They couldn’t give up Hero Caretaker… they couldn’t. They didn’t want Whumper to find him too and torture them. Not after everything that Hero had done for them… offering him the brightest ray of hope Whumpee hadn’t seen before. A way out of Whumper and his cruel contracts.

More pressing was the very real fear of going back into that… that cage. Where Whumpee couldn’t move an inch without hitting the edge, unable to think, or scream, or fight back at all.

There was also the chance that Whumper didn’t know about Hero at all, and if Whumpee confessed then Whumper would get more mad and punish him harsher.

“I know you hate the cage, but if it’s the only thing that’ll loosen your tongue then it’s the only way I can punish you.”

“Whumper please, anything but that,” Whumpee begged. “I’ll kneel— I’ll do whatever you want just pl— ple—”

“Shhh, shhh, sh, Whumpee. It’s okay. This is your last chance. Why are you down here?”

A helpless rush of adrenaline crawled vicious up Whumpee’s throat and they did all they thought they could. They shoved Whumper back and when he was far enough back, Whumpee kicked him  back further and then ran for the wall of weapons.

They had only managed to just grasp a knife when Whumper was on them, shoving Whumpee forward.

Whumpee’s face hit off the wall, but they got his palms on it and pushed back. A hand snaked into his hair and slammed his head once, twice, three times into the wall. Warm blood trickled down Whumpee’s nose, before Whumper disoriented Whumpee by yanking him backwards. It was a harsh pull to the dazed Whumpee who fell straight backwards, his skull hitting off the cement.

Light flashed behind his eyes at the impact. The next thing they knew Whumper was on top of them, his polished shoe crushing Whumpee’s knife wielding wrist into the cement while he rested his forearm against Whumpee’s windpipe not letting Whumpee up for air.

Whumpee struggled sluggishly against Whumper’s hold, gasping without air like a beached shark.

“God, I love it when you pick the hard way, Whumpee,” Whumper sang above Whumpee. Though it was getting hard to see him  with the blackness encroaching his vision. Whumpee felt Whumper pluck the knife from his grip with ease. Whumpee fought back, trying to move but all they did under Whumper was manage a pathetic wiggle.

Whumper let up on Whumpee’s windpipe and Whumpee gasped in air greedily. Then choked on it and sputtered at the rush of oxygen flooding his lungs.

“A knife, hmm?” Whumper asked, eyes bright as he eyed the deadly edge. “Were you going to stab me Whumpee? Tut tut.”

Whumper slashed the knife across Whumpee’s face and Whumpee cried out, struggles renewed under Whumper.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Whumper chastised, pressing the blade against Whumpee’s throat causing Whumpee to still. Whumpee actually stilled.

Whereas before he would’ve dared Whumper to kill him , after Hero he suddenly had something to live. Hero had given him  hope, and now Whumpee couldn’t even call Whumper’s bluff in case he followed through with the threat.

Whumper smiled down at Whumpee. “Look at you. Practically docile. You know what, because you tried so hard Whumpee. Last chance to tell me why you’re here.”

Whumpee swallowed, feeling the blade on his adams apple. “Go fuck yourself, Whumper.”

Whumper’s smile widened. “Good.”

Whumper got off Whumpee, hand bunched in his shirt to lift him again. Whumpee struggled this time. Hard. He hit Whumper’s chest, brought his fist down on Whumper’s hand trying to loosen his hold on Whumpee but it was as if Whumpee was doing nothing. As if he was nothing more than air that Whumper could pass through with ease.

Whumper dragged Whumpee, kicking and screaming, over to the box in the corner, the one Whumpee didn’t want to see.

“You fucking bastard! Let me go! Let me go!”

“Okay,” said Whumper and threw Whumpee to the ground while he opened the door to the cage. It was only the size of a locker but could fit a person in quite uncomfortably. Whumpee had enough room to stand, but not enough room to turn, his shoulders wedged tightly inside. Whumpee tried to crawl away from it, but Whumper caught him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him to his feet.

“Whumper—”

“In you go Whumpee,” Whumper said sweetly, two palms placed on his chest and shoving Whumpee into the cage.

“No! Whumper!” Whumpee screamed, trying to wiggle themselves free in time to stop Whumper from closing the door but Whumper’s smile was the last thing Whumpee saw before the door slammed closed and Whumpee was left, trapped inside the metal prison.

His nose was an inch from the door, his breathing already ragged and echoing off the cramped metal.

“You know, Whumpee,” Whumper said from outside, voice muffled by the thick metal. “I think I might pay that Hero of yours a visit while you’re in there.”

“No!” Whumpee screamed, tears already falling as they bent their arm at the elbow and banged on the door. “Whumper let me out! Let me out, please! Whumper! Don’t touch Hero! Let me out, Whumper please!”

Whumpee kicked the door a few times, their chest tight and heaving in gasping breaths but they weren’t getting enough air, and oh god the whole time Whumper knew about Hero?!…

If… if Whumpee had just told them they wouldn’t be in here.

Whumpee wheezed, trying to get in breath but it wouldn’t fill his lungs quick enough and when it did it was gone just as fast as Whumpee tried to blink back tears and kick the door down, the pounding of their kicks echoing off the metal, deafening, but not quite as loud as Whumpee’s heart that thundered from their chest and seemed to hit every wall of their prison.

“Whumper!” Whumpee screamed, pleaded, begged. “Whumper please! I’m sorry! Whumper! Whumper! WHUMPER?!”

Whumpee broke down into a fit of sobs, unable to control anything in their body. Their brain screamed fight or flight, and Whumpee would lose a physical fight against the metal that surrounded every inch of their body.

“Whumper,” Whumpee sniffed, banging uselessly against the metal. “Whumper come back, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’M SORRY FOR LYING, WHUMPER!”

Whumpee didn’t know how long Whumper left them there. Time didn’t seem to matter much when your body was fighting with itself. Eating itself with fear.

It felt like years.

Maybe Whumper would leave them there for years.

Maybe Whumpee would die in that box.

That just set them off again. Screaming, pleading, crying. It felt as if Whumpee went through the five stages of grief on repeat for hours on end, all except Acceptance.

Whumper smiled as they left the basement to Whumpee’s broken voice bargaining with them to let them out.

[originemesis]

"When you suck my cock~ it's like a slurpy prayer!

You're down on your knees- it's getting in your HAIR."

[atimeofyourlife]

Whumptober day 3

rated: t | wc: 374 | prompt: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.” | Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.” | cw: abusive parents Steve's thoughts on being locked in his room as a child

Steve hated it whenever anyone else commented on how boring and bland, how empty his room was. Because he knew. It was by the design of his parents that it was so empty, without him being able to have anything he wanted in there. It was only as he got older and better at hiding things that he was able to start keeping what he wanted in his room, as long as it always stayed hidden.

His parents only wanted him to have the bare minimum in his room. To make their 'punishments' more effective. For whatever crime they deemed him guilty of, not getting good enough grades, getting home too late from school, there being dust on the top of the light fittings, splashing a small amount of water on the floor when he was doing the dishes. Whenever they were home when schools were out, they would lock him in his room. The door would get unlocked just long enough twice a day to leave a small amount of food, if they remembered. Having an en-suite meant he always had access to water and the bathroom, so he didn't even get let out for that.

It made him feel like he'd spent so much of his childhood crying out in an empty room. And nothing he'd tried or said changed it. Once his parents were sick of the sight of him, he was locked away without anything. He'd even tried telling a teacher, but his parents twisted it to make it seem that they only locked his bedroom door at night, and for safety, claiming that he was a sleepwalker and they didn't want to risk him getting hurt in the night. That got him locked in for weeks. Every night after school, all weekend long, until they left again.

It made him not want to be in his room, at least not alone. He didn't want to be stuck with his feelings, with the fear of nights on end with only the moon for company. Even after his parents stopped locking him away, and when they were rarely home, he still couldn't feel safe in his bedroom. It always stood as a reminder of being a child, locked away and alone.

all my whumptober fills

[wisteriasymphony]

Chat Errant [tied up to a chair like a hostage]: You know, I wouldn't really consider it a paraphilia, but I think there's something attractive about girls who haven't showered in a while. Something about being raised in an environment where hygiene was so strictly enforced that it was practically second nature; I think that's why a girl who kind of neglects that feels almost like a taboo, and it's kind of hot. When her hair is slick with grease and knotted up in all those tangles, her skin is oily and she's wearing clothes for the fifth day in a row, that's all what really gets me going, if you know what I mean.

Truth: I

Truth: I haven't even. What.

Chat Errant [not even paying attention]: I guess there's something kind of... animalistic about it too, y'know? Makes her seem kind of rugged, even wild in a way. That's also pretty attractive. I don't really get why it's not more sought after in women--Or maybe the fact that it isn't is why I find it hot in the first place? I'm not sure. And this isn't to say I find showering to be a turn-off, of course, that would be ridiculous. I just think girls who are a little on the grungier side deserve a little more [bites lip] appreciation, you know?

Truth [To Hawkmoth]: I fucking quit. I'm not listening to this guy anymore.

[copics-and-renegades]

Whumptober 2024 Day 16: Vermin

Everybody has their limits.

---

Somehow I came up with lots of "Magnius whumps Botta" scenarios this year. He's fitting because imo he has zero patience for any smartass Defiant Whumpee bullshit Botta would usually pull and instead like, just shrugs and goes, "ok throw this one to the rats and cockroaches and ask him again in a week". After enough time in the pitch black darkness with the only sensations being "cold" and "did something just crawl over me again", even Botta would play the good pet, me thinks.

Very brutal dynamic, is what I'm saying.

I'll post the remaining pieces tomorrow or something, because I honestly feel like flaming garbage these days and am too tired to operate a scanner. :'D

[whatever-you-can-give-me]

when i grow up i want to be nothing at all

WHUMPTOBER DAY 3: trigun stampede, gen, 2.3k, rated T. wolfwood gets locked in a tiny cell and has a bad time.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Mutual dearest I've been plagued with visions of yet another AU...

This is based on an ask from @/signanothername where they mentioned that in their mind Nightmare ended up killing all of the Killers that escaped bar one.

And I was thinking, like, Nightmare is already to me baseline kind of obsessed with Killer in the sense that he's his favorite weapon (and kind of his treasured pet /neg). He's not bothered by getting rid of them and there is no actual love there. Not even any special interest beyond "Ah, they're useful".

So, imagine every time Killer tries to run away Nightmare intercepts him and kills him. Every single time.

And then there is one who manages to run away. He's the first and only one who manages to actually run. Color is so happy that he managed to FINALLY save one. To finally get him away.

And Nightmare... Nightmare snaps.

Instead of finding a substitute like he always used to do he just takes time to prepare a space that is virtually inescapable but also, like, pleasant (think golden cage kinda trope. There is every amenity one may wish for, but it is entirely empty and sealed).

And then, the first time Killer and Color lower their guard, which, mind you, will take YEARS, he yoinks him and plops him into his cage. And then he just takes on Color's appearance and slowly begins acting like him (kinda like an AI, slowly studying Killer's reaction and deciding if he's doing good or not based on those).

Dude becomes so freaking obsessed about the one who got away that he creates a whole dollhouse for the two of them and commits identity fraud

I think Color deserves to loose his shit anytime things like captivity and solitary confinement come up. If he ever finds that place I think he deserves to burn and tear it down with his bare hands.

Imagine the hell that’ll rain on Killers ability to tell what’s real and what isn’t real. He may be able to hold out for awhile, such as the inconsistencies in appearance, the he knows nightmare to speak, behave, carry himself and think vs the way he knows color. Because nightmares impersonation would be effected by the way he views color.

Imagine if one thing killer immediately clocks about this “color” is that he’s too nice. His Color is kind, not nice or polite. That’s different things.

His Color doesn’t speak in long paragraphs sentences unless it’s something he’s extremely passionate and firey about, often preferring to get straight to the point and breezing past niceties regardless of how rude that makes him come off.

[theonlymoongirl]

Shadows in the Dark

The Boys Febuwhump 2024 Day Two: Solitary Confinement

Nothing yet had been able to wash away the haunted look from his eyes, the stretched wide, thousand yard stare, as though the world all around him was still thrown into darkness and he was still trying to see through the pitch. Butcher didn’t interact with Hughie unless the boys were there with him. He could only imagine the damage he would do if left unsupervised; he needed no reminder of the damage Hughie had already suffered at his hands. Like a bad omen, he skulked in the background, watching, ready to help the moment it looked like Hughie was about to start bashing his skull in or digging around for arteries with his teeth.

read on ao3

hurt/comfort, angst, solitary confinement, self harm, PTSD, psychosis, sensory deprivation, hallucinations, canon typical violence, team as family, found family dynamics

[tired-of-being-nice]

febuwhump day 2: solitary confinement

hehe >:) love this prompt! very fun! this one's kind of a follow-up to day 1, and there's some context provided at the top of that one also!

content warnings: solitary confinement (duh), starvation, touch starvation, brief reference to unintentional self-harm, self-blaming. also coren uses they/them and it/its pronouns– the it/its usage in this case is by choice and kind of like. idk. reclaimed? its not a Bad Thing in this case but i know it is in other stories so i just wanted to clear that up up top. ok 👍

If there's one thing Coren can't stand—worse than pain or hunger or the ringing in their ears when they try to think too hard about certain topics—it's being alone.

Not that it complains. It would never complain. It knows there's no point, and furthermore, it knows what it did wrong. It should have attacked Milo. It would have liked to, normally. It should not, under any conditions, have just lain there silently for several hours while they made fun of it. They grit their teeth in rage, now, thinking back on it. What were they thinking?

(They know what they were thinking. Their target that day had been particularly feisty, and they still had some wounds from the last one that hadn't quite healed over, not to mention they hadn't had time to eat that day, and everything just hurt a lot, and it was sort of nice, at the time, to lie there and listen to Milo's voice, even if it didn't like what they were saying. Sometimes they even patted its head, in a way that was clearly mocking but also felt really nice.)

Well, I hope you enjoyed that, Coren thinks to their idiotic past self. You're not getting it again for a while.

The cell is familiar, regrettably. Bare and spartan, with a small cot in one corner and a toilet and sink in the other. Cement walls. Some, Coren notes with a shiver, are still marked with blood from their last time in here.

It sits down on the cot and folds its hands, trying not to shudder at the sound of the lock in the door. Okay. Its job now is to Reflect On What It's Done. It can do that. It's so good at its job. It has to be.

...Its secondary job is not to lose its mind this time. It's a little less hopeful about that.

It's fine for the first few days. Mostly. Mostly it's fine. It ignores the hunger gnawing at it's stomach, ignores the terror growing in it's throat, ignore ignore ignore. It's your fault, they remind themself. You brought this upon yourself.

Surprisingly, this doesn't help. Somewhere around day four, the hunger gets so bad they can't sleep properly, and that's when things really start going downhill. They spend a while curled on their mattress, staring blankly ahead at the wall, drifting in and out of hazy misery. 

At some point—they're rapidly losing track of the days—they catch themself running their hands through their own hair, trying to imitate the feeling of Milo's light touch, and that's when they know they've lost this time. (They lose every time. They can never hold out. They hate, hate, hate being alone.)

When they finally come to get Coren out, they find them huddled in a corner, tears dripping down their face, arms bloody from scratching at them in a desperate attempt to recreate their blurry memories of being hugged.

"Learned your lesson?" they ask, rhetorically.

Coren nods frantically. Yes, of course, this time, definitely, yes.

(They haven't learned. They never will.)

[fictionkinfessions]

my Maul kintype 🤝 my Data synpath

having an episode called Brothers in which a notable villain is revealed to be alive and mentally unwell by his brother finding him after multiple years in isolation

also having names that are english words

#🍵

]

[writtenbyariavargas]

Day 14

Captivity - Mayuri Kurotsuchi

prisoner cw, prisoner tw, solitary confinement cw, solitary confinement tw

I’d been hauled into the Maggot’s Nest without much warning. The Central 46 had deemed me a danger to the Soul Society for my research and experiments. It halted what I’d been working on, halted what I could learn from the subjects I’d been working on. Frustrating as it was that I’d been interrupted and arrested, it was lucky that I hadn’t been placed in the general population of the Nest. I didn’t pay too much heed to that. Most of the prisoners were loud and violent. I preferred my space to at least think. The only thing that I really disliked was that I had been the only one of the prisoners actually chained.

The very first night I’d been brought to the Nest I’d been manhandled and chained to a wall in a small cell. My ankle was thin and they made sure I had nothing that could unlock the chain. I sat there in my cell for weeks, watching the prisoners and the guard doing his rounds. While the other prisoners would fight and yell at each other, I was left alone, left because of why I’d been locked away. It appeared that most of them feared me, feared what I could do. No matter, I didn’t want to associate with the other prisoners.

Years passed and I watched prisoners delve into madness, losing their minds in the bleak space that was our prison. Eventually there was another prisoner brought in, this one had some promise. He was intelligent, seemingly studious, but timid. The child would come and sit outside of my cell, and watch me. For the longest time I didn’t pay too much heed to him but he kept coming back. I grew to understand that he looked up to me, but also knew that he came over to my cell in order to get away from the other prisoners. The child was small, fragile looking, he wouldn’t have survived if he didn’t sit near my cell. No one else seemed to want to come near me.

He was a captive as well. I learned what he did and found a kinship with him. We shared an interest in research and both of us were brought in due to some morally gray actions on our parts. I couldn’t call him a friend, but I didn’t quite hate when the kid came over to sit near me.

Neither of us seemed to have lost our sanity, but how could you lose something you never quite had to begin with? I had been called insane well before I’d been arrested and held, chained to my cell. I didn’t fight the binds. It wouldn’t have done any good. It would have just caused undue harm to my ankle without much good to come out of it. I stayed complicit in my captivity for so long that I lost track of the years. The kid seemed to be complicit in his as well. Others weren’t.

One of the days a newer guard came in and I could see that the other prisoners were going to test him, see if they could start a riot. I saw him, the blonde shinigami subdue the prisoners so quickly. It was amusing. I called over to him when he was finished. While I was still a prisoner, why not speak to the guard? It turned out that the man had a similar drive for research that I held. How had he not been taken in as a prisoner as well? I needed to know. It was something I could do while I waited my life away in such a dull place without the ability to conduct my experiments.

When the man became captain of the Juunibantai he came once more, released my ankle, released me from the cell I’d been in for so long and released the kid who took solace near me. He created the Shinigami Department of Research and Development and thus ended the lengthy captivity.

Some nights though, I still dreamt I was stuck in the Maggot’s nest, stuck as a prisoner for life. I had nightmares of watching others lose what little sanity they had left, watching prisoners tear each other apart and become more animal than man. It wasn’t something I would ever admit to anyone, but the solitude, the stench, everything about that place still haunted my memories.