#tw incarceration

[wishiwasfiction]

I saw a post that said locking alters away is never okay, and I wanted to talk about it but didn't want to derail, so I'm making my own post.

Tl;DR I don't 100% agree with it because there's nuance there.

read tags for TWs

Broadly speaking, I agree. Locking up alters can be damaging in a lot of ways: it hurts them, and their relationships to other alters, and can hurt other alters if they disagree with the decision.

Broadly speaking, locking up alters is counterproductive to healing/functionality.

Broadly speaking.

There are also situations in which locking up an alter is the safest option. Times where you don't really get a choice.

I'm honestly glad that most systems never have to think about this, because you only really think about it if you (or someone you know) has lived it.

Alters can do really fucked up things, dangerous things, both in the innerworld and out.

Alters can hurt others.

Alters can kill each other or send each other dormant.

Alters can kill the body.

And yes, in many cases they're doing this because they're trying to help, or they think they deserve it, or because they were trained to do so, or any number of other perfectly understandable and 'healable' reasons.

But some also do it because they think its fun, or because it makes them feel powerful, or just because they can.

Speaking as a gatekeeper/protector, it's my job to keep the system safe. If an alter is not safe to be around, then I need to protect against that.

I think it's important to establish that keeping an alter away from the rest of the system doesn't inherently mean that we're keeping them somewhere inhumane.

We put people in their own area, with space, light, good food, pleasant living conditions, and the ability to choose how they spend their time. We give them access to their hobbies and their favourite medias and comforts. If it's safe, we give them non-physical access to social spaces, guidance, and support. If we think it's safe, we give them in person visits with people we know they cannot harm should they try something.

Locking alters away is not always cruel and violent and brutal, even though you may consider it immoral or unethical.

And quite frankly, even if it is done in ways that are cruel or violent or brutal, if that is what is required for the body to remain functional and alive, then so be it.

You can't do 'better' if you're dead.

What I will say, is that locking up alters should not be a fix all. It should not be what you jump to or immediately reach for when conflict occurs.

It is the final option or it is an emergency stop-gap.

We have a very long list of things to try before we start considering locking someone up. We work with them to understand why they are doing what they're doing, and whether they're open to changing.

If they are not open to change, we respect that and do the absolute bare minimum necessary to keep everyone safe.

A lot of times, they will not be open to changing, and then after some time of us respecting their autonomy and boundaries, they approach us requesting help to change.

I am scared of the response this may garner, but I'm saying it anyway.

If an alter reacts violently to something out of fear, keeping them to one area with none of that thing can be a kindness.

This is a paraphrasing of something said to me by an alter I had 'locked away' for safety.

She reacted badly to change/uncertainty, and said the predictability helped her to learn how to work through her fear and manage it without violence. The system proper was too overwhelming for her to be able to change.

She's now happily living in a quieter part of the innerworld and no longer expresses those fear responses as violence.

This is one example i picked at random, but i have many more stories of locking alters away while they are learning to manage themselves, and then releasing them once they are no longer deemed dangerous.

If you want to judge someone for what they do when they have both time and options when making a decision, then fine.

But judging people on split-second decisions when (potentially) their life is involved, or when they've exhausted all other options, just seems to me to be picking on the vulnerable target.

[everett-fornow]

what if Henris actually got caught and put in jail AU...it's a working title. time accurate mugshot photo quality under the cut

they're not all of his crimes but just the ones they got solid evidence on. they managed to raid his house and find 11 of the 23 bodies behind his murder charges by an incinerator that contained traces of human remains, though because of the non-existent genealogy of the time they weren't able to determine anything further than that

one day I'll win the award for "most evil and fucked up protagonist" just you wait

[rotzaprachim]

Under cut for traumatic content but

Yesterday whilst biking home from my job at rush ish hour I was full on hit by a car that ran past speed limit through a stop sign/four way stop and hit the side of my bike full on. I was biking through a pedestrian crosswalk when it hit me. So far it seems like I had a miraculous survival in terms of I have a broken leg and various torn things, some head stuff, but - it’s overall shockingly good. Still processing that it happened and hit me and for a while my brain was so stuck in the half second of it Happening. For what Happened, a stroke of grace - there were several pedestrians including children in the area and the car hit only me, who was wearing a helmet and protective footwear for my commute.

the driver hit and fled the scene of the crime. Later the police came to collect by bike and helmet, which had both been destroyed, for evidence. The person who hit and ran was driving under the influence, and non receptive to external information and stimuli. Because they do not have the financial resources to pay the $5000 dollar bail they are being held until trial. I don’t…. For a while my mind was so stuck in the half second of the crash, replaying it over and over again. I don’t know how to feel about this. I’m so angry. I’m so angry at the situation. I’m so angry I almost died and that someone cared so little that I was almost killed by somebody. I’m so angry at the situation and the local situation that ended up with someone barreling through a pedestrian commuter area while intoxicated. I’m so angry about inequalities and the violence of drugs and alcohol and I’m so angry at the police and how they got involved and I’m angry about the incarceration. What does that do? What does that do for fucking any of it? I hate that person. I hate that person for how close they came not just to killing me but the middle aged woman and the children on the crosswalk. But I didn’t die, and my injuries I will recover from, and so there’s someone else whose life will be ruined from this, and it isn’t me.

[3-2-whump]

TW/CW: mentions of death/murder, incarceration

Whumpee kills whumper and ends up in prison, regardless of whether it was done in self-defense or in defense of others. They don’t even try to argue their innocence, they won’t deny they killed them.

Maybe not so surprisingly, whumpee adjusts extremely well to life behind bars. It’s nothing they haven’t already been through.

[hcmmersnstrings]

[ dylan o'brien, cis-male, he/him ] — whoa! DAKOTA LOVE just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TWO YEARS, working as a/an MECHANIC AND PART TIME BARTENDER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 31 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit APATHETIC and TEMPERMENTAL , but i know them to be CALM and NON-JUDGEMENTAL. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to LOWER MANHATTAN! — (binx, 30, mst, she/her, n/a)

vibes and wanted plots

Name: Dakota Love Nicknames: None Age: Thirty One Date of birth: March 21 1993 Birth place: Stearns, KY Occupation: Mechanic and part time bartender Romantic/sexual orientation: heterosexual // heteroromantic

ABOUT.

Aesthetics: the cherry of a cigarette burning against a dark night sky, palm calluses, guitar string scars, smoky bar rooms, low lit rooms, steady heartbeat, tattered jeans, honey thick drawls, the pain of wasted potential, the promise that the sun will rise again

HISTORY:

tw: drugs/drug use cw, prison sentence mention, poverty

Poor boy from a poor family in a poor town, there weren't a lot of options for Dakota to succeed. His mother was a young, single mom with a string of partners that filtered in and out of his life from a young age.

One of these suitors stuck and when he was still relatively little his mother moved them across state lines to West Virginia to be with this man. He worked in the mines so he wasn't around a lot, but when he was he was a musician.

Dakota was happy to be taught different instruments, playing along while his mother harmonized. It fostered his love for the arts. But the happiness was short lived as it always was, and eventually his mother split from this man and moved them into another town.

He would be hardpressed to remember a time his mother was sober. Especially after the move she worked multiple jobs and found multiple ways to just "take the edge off". This often left Dakota to the wayside and to fend for himself.

As he got older and realized his mother was unreliable, he took up his own odd jobs to bring money back into the house, often squirreling it away where his mother couldn't find it. Eventually, he dropped out his freshman year of high school so he could work full time as a mechanic.

They eventually moved back to Kentucky and he found work and so did she and she was sober for a bit but true to the pattern it didn't last. Trailer park to trailer park or run down apartment to rundown apartment, Dakota was still a teen and like all teens you can't stop curiosity from blossoming. Girls and late nights and smoking in the back of his pick up and drinking and being places he had no business going, there was no conductor for this train and it was off the rails.

Despite his wishes for his future, he fell down the same path as his mother and it happened before he could even realize it. At first it was just teenage experimenting. Dakota is trustworthy and this much is evident in the way he interacts with people. The folks he worked with asked him to help sell and in turn he got to take home a cut and some of his own supply. It was all an escape from the reality that was his life and the shitshow that waited for him at home. Whether it was his mother being erratic or the men he brought home picking fights with him, for a little bit, he didn't have to deal with it all. And the money was good. And the excitement of being somewhere new, of doing something dangerous was even better.

A whirlwind of years and youth lost he landed himself in prison with multiple charges including arson. He'll be the first to tell you that sure, it sucked ratting out people he thought were his friends, and sure it sucked realizing it was just more of his life lost, but what really sucked? What really made him go crazy? The withdrawal. It was hell. Worse than hell. Clarity eventually came and he settled into his new life, counting down the days until his releaes.

Dakota has never been a bad kid, just an angry one. With good behavior, he was allowed to take vocational classes and classes to get his GED. He was also allowed to join an arts group and play his music or sing in the choir. All these points earned him an early release.

He had no fucking clue what to do when he got out. Sure, he had training, but no one wanted to hire him. And all the people he knew in Kentucky still had the same problems. A brief relapse, a call from an old friend he'd met years prior brought him to New York. She let him crash on her couch and watch her apartment while she traveled for work. She put him in touch with unions and eventually all these efforts landed him a new job. A new career. A new start.

He lives in Lower Manhattan, his friend spends most of her time away so she just let him take over the second bedroom and he just pays her a portion of rent that goes towards her mortgage. Dakota toes a thin line with his drug and alcohol use, never quite falling off the edge but having a habit of dipping his toe into the water and seeing how long he can hold it.

FAST FACTS:

He still sings and plays guitar, fiddle, piano, and the banjo.

Was incarcerated when he was twenty one and released when he was twenty nine. He likes to spend his time trying to catch up on all the events he missed. He has a list of movies he's currently trying to work through.

A handyman at heart, Dakota picked up a lot of skills working from such a young age. If you need something fixed, he can probably figure it out for you.

Loves to cook but cannot bake to save his life. He will not make you breakfast in bed as he would probably burn it.

Is allergic to cats but loves them.

Hasn't spoken to his mother in years.

[serickswrites]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing!

I was wondering if you could write something with a prison setting, with an angry whumper (because I feel like I never see those). Ignore this if you don’t like the idea haha

Anyway I hope you have an amazing day! ❤️

Hello! Thank you so much!

I can definitely write this for you (I hope this is what you are looking for/wanting). Please enjoy and have a great day!!

Warnings: incarceration, degradation, physical violence, threat of physical harm, threat of noncon

Whumpee kept their eyes on the ground. They followed along closely behind the guard, towel and limited toiletries clutched to their chest. They couldn't believe this had happened. Couldn't believe that there had been such a miscarriage of justice that they had ended up here, in prison, while the real villain of the story, Original Whumper, walked away free.

Whumpee had spent their whole life trying to dispel beliefs about them. About what they were. What they could be. And it didn't matter. Because they still ended up in the place that everyone thought they would end up: in prison.

The guard was talking, but Whumpee wasn't listening. They could hear the calls and jeers of their fellow inmates. That was all they could hear. Until they heard the clanking of the door behind them as the cell door swung shut.

Whumpee looked up, heart instantly in their throat. On the bottom bunk of the cell sat a face that they had never hoped to see again: Whumper.

Whumpee had been responsible for Whumper ending up in this place. And Whumpee was sure that Whumper had remembered from the look on their face.

"You," Whumper growled as they stepped off the bunk.

"Please," Whumpee whispered.

"You are here? Now?" Whumper stepped in close to Whumpee, so close that Whumpee could smell their sweat, their foul breath. "Oh this has got to be some sick joke, huh bitch? Come to get more from me."

Whumpee shrank back, making themself as small as possible. "Please. I--"

"You don't get to speak, pig. You don't get to do anything!" Whumper roared. "I am going to end you!"

Whumpee could feel Whumper's spittle land on their cheek. They hunched over themself, trying to shield themself from Whumper. "Pl-please," Whumpee whispered. No one was coming to help them. No one was coming to save them. The guards didn't care. Caretaker wasn't there. Couldn't get to them. They were at the mercy of Whumper.

"The only thing you are going to do," they leaned over Whumpee. "Is be my bitch!"

[hazyaltcare]

hi hi! I just wanted to let yall know your content is really helping me get through my bf being in jail, its such a comfort for me since we'd ship proships together and it reminds me of him. thanks for all you do!

I'm so glad to hear our content has been a comfort for you in this trying time.

I would also like to note, however, that, as a whole, there is no such thing as a proship. What you are referring to is what I suppose most would call a "problematic ship." I think I have heard of some calling their "problematic" ships comships, but I am unsure if that was the intention behind the creation of the phrase comship or if it's another bastardization.

Proship just means you are pro-shipping. You believe in letting people ship as they please and not harrassing others over ships. Some proshippers have "problematic" ships, but not all do!

All of that aside, we wish you well, anon! I am glad our content has been helpful to you in a time of need.

Mod Haze (🪛The Doctor (11))

[squeakytoybrain]

h

honda boys :P

[underestimated-heroine]

More links on this.

Since 2014, millions of Uyghurs, Kazakhs and other minorities have been locked up in China and subjected to torture and forced labour. Some of those freed talk about trying to rebuild their lives in neighbouring Kazakhstan

Photography by Robin Tutenges

A Chinese course book

Saliman Yesbolat used to live in Ghulja county, Xinjiang. After she refused to denounce her Uyghur neighbours to the police, she was forced to perform the raising of the Chinese flag every Monday at dawn, and to attend Chinese lessons twice a week in the basement of her building, where she would learn the Chinese language, patriotic songs and Xi Jinping's discourses by heart. This is her exercise book.

Forced to leave China

At 65, Imam Madi Toleukhan is one of the oldest refugees in Bekbolat, Kazakhstan, where more than 100 families took shelter after fleeing the Chinese regime. 'We were richer back there. I owned a herd, but I was too afraid for my sons, my grandchildren and their future: I came to Kazakhstan to save them. I didn't want them to be the fourth generation to suffer at the hands of the Chinese government, he says.

Remembering Uyghur culture in exile

Two members of the Dolan Ensemble, a Uyghur dance troupe based in Kazakhstan, get ready before performing a traditional dance to mark 40 days since the birth of a baby. Founded in 2016, the troupe performs at festivals or private events that bring together members of the Uyghur community, some of whom have had to leave Xinjiang.

Torture, infertility and damaged genitalia

In Kazakhstan, medical care for camp survivors is poor. Most victims can barely afford to see a family doctor. Anara*, an endocrinologist in a Kazakh hospital who has examined about 50 camp survivors since 2020, noticed recurrent infertility problems among her patients. 'Men or women, many have damaged genitalia. Some told me they'd been given drugs, others said they'd been raped. As they didn't come to us right after being released from the camps, it's impossible to know what kind of drugs they were administered in Xinjiang, she says. *Not her real name

The tiger chair

Ospan* spent a year in a re-education camp. He says his mind and body were crushed by the tortures he experienced in a tiger chair - a steel apparatus with handcuffs that restrains the body in painful positions. Aged about 50, this former shepherd, who took refuge with his family in eastern Kazakhstan, is no longer fit for work. Physically wrecked and prone to headaches, he mourns the loss of his memory above all. 'I used to know a lot of songs and I loved to sing; I also knew poems by heart ... Now, I can't sing any more, I can't remember the words,' he says. *Not his real name

Broken families and imprisonment

Aikamal Rashibek saw the dreadful efficiency of the CCP's brainwashing on her husband, Kerimbek Bakytali, after he was released from a Chinese psychiatric hospital. 'He disappeared for a year. When he came back, he didn't tell me anything about what happened to him. He was highly unhinged, always nervous, and got angry whenever I asked questions. He couldn't stop repeating that he hated Kazakhstan now, and that he wanted to go back to China with the kids to give them a Chinese education, says Aikamal. They are now separated.

Missing loved ones in China’s camps

In March 2017, Miyessar Muhedamu, left, a Uyghur woman, was arrested in Xinjiang under the pretext that she had studied Arabic in Egypt when she was young. Her husband, Sadirzhan Ayupov, right, and her three children have not seen her since. Now that Miyessar has left the camp, Sadirzhan receives a short call every few months. He suspects she might have suffered abuse, yet Miyessar can’t speak freely. ‘She told me she’d been in a re-education camp, and that she’d been released. When I ask her what she went through there, she doesn’t answer,’ says Sadirzhan.

Life after fleeing China

Sent to a re-education camp in 2018 at the age of 64, Yerke* saw her health quickly deteriorate. Locked a tiny cell with dozens of other women, she almost lost the use of her legs due to the cold floor she had to lie on. She was in the camp when she learned of her son’s death: pressured by the Chinese authorities, he took his own life. After her release, Yerke fled to Kazakhstan with some family members, but two of her children remain in China *Not her real name

Forced labour and confessions

Dina Nurdybay, 32, was arrested in Nilka county, Xinjiang, because her traditional Kazakh clothing business made her a separatist, according to the Chinese authorities. She spent 11 months between two re-education camps, a CCP school and a forced-labour sewing factory. After proving she was capable of being ‘well behaved’ and having performed a self-criticism in front of the whole village, Dina was released and managed to escape when she obtained a week’s leave to visit her ailing father in Kazakhstan.

Cultural genocide

China’s repression of ethnic minorities also involves cultural genocide. As Muslim rituals are forbidden in Xinjiang, people are trying to keep their traditions alive across borders. Here, a family is praying together in Kazakhstan after the death of one of their relatives in Xinjiang. They could not repatriate the body because the border between the two countries was closed at the time.

(continue reading)

[trashfeminabag]

MAJOR TW FOR SA/TRANSMISOGYNY

i've just found out about the practice of "V-coding" - essentially, systematized r-pe of trans women in men's prisons in the US. it's genuinely awful and terrifying how much our bodies are commodified and objectified, to the point where we're acceptable targets for r-pe in the carceral system, and nobody in power gives a fuck. no politician is talking about this, nobody in power that i know of has said anything about wanting to changed the systemic, mass r-pe of trans women.

it goes to show how much trans women - especially trans women who are incarcerated - are still viewed as expendable, 'acceptable targets' by society, not deserving of basic human rights or decency. if this were being done to cis women, people would riot, but not a peep for the use of trans women as modern-day "comfort women" in prisons.

my heart breaks for these women. please, let me know - genuinely - if there's anything i or anyone else could do to help.

[rotzaprachim]

I think one of the most uncomfortable aspects of the “absolutely no imprisonment or incarceration for crimes but also rapists deserve to die or be killed and if you think otherwise you’re a rape supporter” logic that’s proliferated among the left for some reason has a lot of terrible implications - plenty of people who are against incarceration in any circumstances also seem to have ideologies that involve forming “community brigades” or something which in Their minds aren’t just … extrajudicial militias - but one of the fallouts is less recognition and support of rape victims, not more. Because most people actually don’t want people to die, and the idea that all rapists deserve to die necesitates another idea that rapists are some closed off Other group that they will have no attachment to or contact with or will matter to no one or be some oppressor class they can just guillotine and move on with. They can’t accept that killing rapists would mean killing their brothers or comrades or friends or that killing rapists would mean killing other oppressed people or marginalized people, so it’s easier to believe that all those people couldn’t POSSIBLY have raped someone, rather that they did, and don’t deserve to die for it.

[onearthwerebrieflygorgons]

[aiden-stevens]

Aiden sits up and leans up against the wall with his head craned back and tilted to direct his eyes to Nora. His shoulders are slumped in defeat when he murmurs, "I know." They had one of two options there, and neither parent is ideal. He wonders idly if they should try to call Mack.

"Your dad always hated me," he scoffs. "I dunno, our options aren't great. But just call him on your behalf or something, it's better you get bailed out."

It isn't so much that Aiden is fearful of Henry telling Anastasia - he'll know and tell either way. He's a Levin, he will catch wind of it all, and there's never been hesitation to put a complaint out about him.

He huffs, "Maybe I shouldn't be twenty-nine and trying to outrun cops and security while wasted, huh?" It's not the first time he's been in a holding cell, but he was certain the last time was years ago. "I kept my nose clean-" Figuratively... "-and outta trouble because mom really tore into me last time." Anything that was below Anastasia's standard was easy to fly below the radar.

"Sorry about this. We talked on my birthday, morning after, and you said something about us having nowhere to go but up. Guess we really needed to land on our asses first."

@noralevin

Nora's head dropped back down into her hands as she felt a rush of heat move into her cheeks with the embarrassment of it all. Aiden couldn't call his mom, Nora couldn't call her dad — god, they sounded like high schoolers afraid of getting grounded.

Whenever they'd ended up here back then, 'calling Nora's dad' was a trump card, and the beat cops around here knew it too. She'd tell one of them that she was exercising her right to a phone call with a smirk on her face, as if 'I'm going to tell my daddy on you' wasn't a noxious sentiment.

Things were different now, though. Henry would've begrudgingly bailed out Nora every single day until she graduated high school if he had to, just to drag her across that line before he could get her a legacy admit to Stanford, but there was no point anymore. His aspirations for her had flown out the window as soon as she'd left for New York.

When she moved out of her childhood bedroom (again) back in March, Henry had stood at the foot of the U-Haul. He didn't offer to help, but he did say, "I hope you get what you want."

It felt like the end. They hadn't spoken to each other since then.

It was about pride for Nora, but she opened a single eye to look at Aiden and knew it was about more than that for him. The idea of calling her father turned something in her stomach that made her want to double over and throw up, and she wasn't even sure if he'd be willing to help them, but she still had a home to return to whenever this was over. Aiden might not. So as much as Nora's stomach was doing flip-flops, it was ultimately an easy enough decision.

"Aid," she said softly, the use of a nickname rare. "I can call my dad. I will call him. I don't know how much he's gonna do, but I can try. But you know he's probably going to tell your mom."

@aiden-stevens

[trans-axolotl]

reading writing from other people who have also survived solitary confinement (in so many different places, prisons + institutions + more) and sometimes the grief overwhelms me. i feel such a strong connection through the page--they put words to this swirling mess of emotions that lies under my skin when i think back to those weeks. they've found a way to talk about what it does to you and what you become and what it's like to try to come back to the world afterwards. i still can't speak about most of it. some days i wake up panicking because my door is shut; I'm glad my walls are thin and my roommate plays music slightly too loudly at night--it's easier to fall asleep when i know she's there.

this quote: "I am filled with the sensation of drowning each and every day."

and this one: "When he walked out of the SHU, he saw his first tree in 12 years."

and this one: "Solitary confinement is a living death. Death because it is the removal of nearly everything that characterizes humanness, living because within it you are still you. The lights don’t turn out as in real death. Time isn’t erased as in sleep…"

(from shane bauer reporting on solitary confinement in California: x)

i don't have words for the kind of rage i feel when i think about all the people being tortured in solitary right now and every single fucking day; loved ones + activist acquaintances + people i have never met. i want to start breaking things. i want to tear it all down. some days i feel so incredibly guilty that i saw the leaves fall outside today--how is it that i get that and she's still in there. there are no words.