#tw solitary confinment

[trans-axolotl]

getting arrested brought up a lot of psych trauma for me and there's so many things from years ago that are just playing on repeat in my mind right now. i haven't been this fucked up about solitary confinement for a long time. I've spent the first two weeks after getting arrested sleeping on the floor of my friends rooms because I can't be alone in a room without freaking out. and getting arrested wasn't anywhere near as bad as solitary in the psych institution or getting brutalized by the cops when they sectioned me. But it was just close enough to remind me of how fucking scared i was back then. how many fucking times i lost my mind. how the worst part wasn't even the assaults but that knowledge that by getting those diagnoses on my chart, i would never be seen as credible again. I had to lie there, understanding that psychiatric authority could rewrite my every action into a symptom that justified increased confinement. It didn't matter that parts of my madness were in response to the carceral violence i was surviving and that i had been placed in a situation where self-destruction was my only path for demanding autonomy. it did not fucking matter, because i had become a "patient" and that meant i would never be believed again in a system that prioritized social control over any real safety, care, or healing.

last week when they got me alone in a cell with five cops i started to feel that same type of fear that i felt all those years ago when i had to prepare myself to survive some pretty fucking unspeakable things. the moment it sunk in i would be there alone, with no witnesses, i started to feel that same type of powerlessness again. those labels of patient and criminal are weaponized in the same way to create a situation where your words, your protests, your actions are not legible or believed in any way (civil death is how the philosophers would probably describe it. "world-destroying world" is how they refer to solitary confinement.) Sitting in court for hours this week feels the same--seeing dozens of cases each day where the judge is just destroying people's lives and doesn't even fucking care.

i am so angry. i am so fucking angry. i've known all this shit for years, i've joined programs to learn to copwatch and courtwatch and inside-outside organizing and hours and hours of anti carceral suicide support training, harm reduction organizing, trying to build similar stuff for my institutionalized comrades. but i am just so fucking angry every day about the amount of people whose lives are destroyed, who are murdered by the state in these fucking places. it's the same fucking shit over and over again and like, this time i had comrades and community and knowledge and had that type of support I could rely on even when I was in there alone. but I want to scream when I think about how many people don't have any of that shit going through the same fucking thing day after day, who are as alone as I was four years ago, who disappear and are cut out of our communities day after day and we don't always even know whose missing. i want to scream and just keep screaming. i want to tear all this shit down, i don't want the world where I live in to be one where prisons and jails and institutions and any fucking form of confinement still stands.

[whump-mania]

Can I request about Whumper who left Whumpee for a week to make him lack of human contact?

Whumper idly checked their calendar. Huh. Seven days already? They were sure it had been less. But hey, Whumpee DID beg to be left alone, so Whumper was sure a week of solitary confinement and sensory deprivation let them learn their lesson.

Whumper strolled down to the basement and smirked when they heard whimpering from below. They must have heard the footsteps. Whumper made a note to buy better earplugs.

When they opened the door, Whumpee was a beautiful sight. Bound, gagged, shaking, probably in pain. They noticed the plate of food from the first day was empty, after being vehemently refused the first time. Whumper imagined what it must have looked like when Whumpee tried to eat it through the gag. Hilarious.

Whumper knelt down next to Whumpee and tested them. They slowly ran a finger down their back. But oh, how that must have felt for Whumpee. Their back twitched violently at the feeling, a loud whimper ripping from their throat. Whumper huffed out a laugh. Poor thing.

They took the earplugs out, removed the gag, and finally took away the blindfold. Whumpee was an absolute mess. Their trembling form was a stark contrast from the fiery attitude from a week ago.

“Are you ready to listen?” Whumper asked calmly. “The better you are, the more contact I’ll give you. Doesn’t that sound nice?” They trailed another finger down Whumpee’s arm.

Whumpee wasted no time in nodding, leaning into the small touch they were awarded. “Yes. Yes, please, I’m sorry.” Their voice was raspy and grating. Oh well, Whumper would fix that.

“Good. Very good,” Whumper caressed Whumpee’s face this time, with a full palm. Whumpee practically melted. “Let me get you some water.”

[serickswrites]

Solitary

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, solitary confinement, small spaces, sensory deprivation

"SHUT UP!" Whumper growled at Team Leader. Whumper had, for the better part of an hour, been trying to hurt Teammate One, but each time Whumper raised their hand, Team Leader began to scream. Scream at their top of their longs, breaking Whumper's concentration.

Team Leader didn't relent. They couldn't. As long as Whumper wasn't distracted, they wouldn't hurt any of the team. Team Leader wouldn't let Whumper hurt their team.

"If you do not shut up, I will make you." Whumper said as they stalked away from Teammate One.

But Team Leader didn't stop. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Their throat was ragged from screaming, but they wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop.

Whumper stalked forward and boxed Team Leader's ears, disorienting them quickly. Team Leader's scream faltered as they listed sideways from the blow. Whumper took advantage and began to drag Team Leader out of the room. "I will have my way with your team. I will. There is nothing you can do to stop me."

Team Leader opened their mouth to start screaming once more, but Whumper shoved a filthy rag in their mouth. "You will not spoil my fun."

Team Leader began to struggle in their restraints, trying to free their fingers enough to rip the rag out of their mouth. Whumper quickly pulled a blindfold down over Team Leader's eyes. Team Leader struggled violently against being blinded, but Whumper boxed their ears once more before lifting them into the air.

"You will not spoil my fun," they growled in Team Leader's ear as they dropped Team Leader.

Team Leader's heart fluttered as they had no way to gauge how long they would fall. Their fall was broken abruptly by cold metal. They were enclosed on all sides by metal. They thrashed against the sides. They had to get out of the box.

"Let's see how you do with some time alone with your thoughts, Team Leader." Whumper whispered in their ear before shoving something thick and cottony in both their ears.

Team Leader was cut off from their senses. Cut off from the world. Cut off and in a tight space. Cut off and unable to help their team. Cut off and unable to do anything but try and calm their breathing.

Time passed. Or didn't. Team Leader had no way of knowing. Had no way of knowing anything. They only had their hope that Whumper would come for them soon. And then they would have their revenge.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

So...anyone remember that version of the Rejected Soulmate AU where Danny turns Tim into a Halfa against his will and Tim developed picture powers and trapped Phantom in a painting?

Well I do and I'm about to make it everyone else's problem.

When Danny is finally released from the painting he is not okay. He had been trapped in an attic where pretty much no one went to and then everyone outright avoided for years.

He was essentially stuck in solitary confinement for Ancients know how long. People don't just walk away from that and get to be perfectly sane afterwords. Whats more was that Dannys core was damaged right before being picturefied. Usually the damage sustained would have been nothing more than the equivalent of a skinned knee but being surrounded on all sides by the essence or not only another ghost but another Halfa...well...when two ghosts mix thier essences together they can create a new core.

A baby.

Unfortunately for Phantom both of them were Halfas and Danny had no access to human requirements such as food and water.

Phantoms body couldn't handle the strain of a pregnancy and he had a miscarriage. Worse still, he was constantly surrounded by Tim's essence so he just...kept getting pregnant and kept having miscarriage after miscarriage. When Danny was released he sobbed. It wasn't unusual so hear sobbing or crying from what was dubbed "Dannys room" all around him were the empty cores of the children he had lost, splayed across the floor without a glow and without a life. He looked up at the wall he had been hanging on and saw a distinct discoloration where his portrait used to be. For the love of the Ancients, how long had be been trapped there??

Danny eventually managed to calm down and went over to one of the boxes that hadn't been touched since Alfred stopped coming he tried not to think about that and quietly dumped the contents out onto the floor and used the box to gather up the so many far too many cores.

He would hold a funeral for them all at a later date, but for now he needed to escape the manor.

Sneaking down the stairs he kept his senses sharp. There seemed to be no one in the manor and it appeared to have been that way for quite some time. Alfred would rise from the grave himself if he knew how much dust had accumulated in his absence.

Danny walked past a puddle on the living room floor absently noting the large stain on the ceiling that periodically let a drop splash down into the dampness below. What had happened here? Clearly Tim hadn't died the rest of the way anytime soon after locking Danny up and throwing away the key, so what was up with the manor? How long had Danny been gone? Did they abandon him along with the house? That thought sent his stomach churning.

He knew Tim didn't want him. He had been okay with that so long as he played with him. Most soulmate bonds were platonic and Danny wasn't above pestering someone for attention. Red Robin had almost always seemed annoyed by his presence though and never really gave him a chance even when he seemed to be having fun with whatever "mini game" he had constructed (he made sure to base them off of Reds own hobbies and likes) he had seemed to be holding himself back. Tim never opened up to Danny.

Now Danny was the one trying to avoid Tim as he slipped out one of the manors secret passageways. Thank you old school money and your paranoid aristocrats. He wondered it Bruce even knew of all the secret passageways the Phantom had scoped out in Wayne Manor as he slipped out of a bush behind some old house on another property. Judging on how he had to phase his way out of the hidden door and under the bushes roots he'd go out on a limb and guess no one had used this one in quite a while.

He decided to still stick to the shadows. Even if he had escaped the manor it didn't change the fact that if Tim didn't already know he escaped he would soon enough and would be out looking for him with the rest of the furry patrol.

What about Hood? Did he still hate him? Danny wasn't even sure what went wrong. One day they were friends and then the next he wouldn't even look at him. Did Tim say something? Would he stoop so low? Either way he didn't think Hood would help him. He could feel Hoods Ecto-signature over in the direction of Crime Alley so he couldn't have been trapped for two long, right?

Wrong. So so wrong. According to the date on the electronic billboard he had been trapped for 133 years. Ancients. In other news Tim Drake had been attacked and fallen into a coma not too long ago, which would explain why Danny was free and not being chased. That and his collar that hid his ecto signature. Every day he's thankful for it.

Now would be the best time to leave Gotham. Now while everyone is distracted and Tim can't shove Danny back into his own private Hell.

By the time Tim realizes Danny is missing he will already be long gone.

[losthavenmine]

Whumptober 2023 Day 3 || Solitary Confinement

Gladiator (2000)

[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.

[one-piece-aus]

#3, Sanji? Hehehhe

Of course and since it's conveniently after Day 2, decided to make this a part 2! You can read Part 1 here

Whumptober Day 3

Prince Sanji x Reader

Warning: Sibling harrassment

"Meet me at the large oak tree on the North side of the kingdom's walls tomorrow night, we'll leave together then."

"You really planned out everything, didn't you?" You smiled at Sanji.

"Down right to the perfect town to live," Sanji said.

You hugged him, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. Sanji chuckled and lifted you up, spinning you around. You admired the sparkles of joy in his eyes, their shine spoke of how happy he was you agreed to run away with him. The two of you giggled and laughed until the setting sun began to darken the sky, it was time for you to part ways.

"Tomorrow night, don't forget, [Y/n]," Sanji said squeezing your hands, not ready to let go.

"I'll see you then, Sanji." You rose to your toes and left a kiss on his cheek, leaving him swooning over you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Aren't you usually outside mingling with the humans by now?" Niji asked, entering Sanji's room when he noticed the blond shuffling things around.

"Mind your own business," Sanji grumbled as he slammed a drawer shut.

"What are you hiding little brother?" Niji intruded further and shoved Sanji away from the desk. Opening the drawer, he caught sight of something interesting. "Is this a map?"

"Give that back!" Sanji tried to snatch it away when Niji pulled it out, but the blue sibling held it out of the blond's reach.

"What do you need a map for?" Niji scanned the markings on the paper. "You're not actually trying to run away?"

"N-no- nO! Mind your own business and give it back!" Sanji reached for it again but Niji moved out of the way.

"Geez, so defensive," Niji teased and waved the map.

"What's going on here?"

The two glanced to the doorway where their oldest brother stood.

"Hey Ichiji, check this out." Niji tossed the map to the redhead who caught it.

"What's this?"

"Nothing-"

"Sanji's been hiding this map in his drawer."

Ichiji scanned over the map as Sanji glared at Niji. Eldest didn't say anything at first, he closed the map and walked into the room.

"Niji, hold Sanji," Ichiji commanded.

"Hey-!"

"You got it!" Niji locked Sanji's arms in a death grip.

"LET GO YOU BASTARD!" Sanji yelled at Niji.

"Let's see what else you've been hiding."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why am I not surprised?" Judge asked as his third son was thrown before his feet. He scoffed as Sanji scrambled to lift himself upright. "You're a pathetic excuse for a son, always mingling with lowly humans, full of weak emotions, now you wanna run off and live with one?!"

"Pretty stupid," Yonji snickered in the background as he witnessed the scene with his siblings.

"How ungrateful are you? You're a prince, you live in wealth and luxury, servants who will obey your every command-"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANY OF THAT STUPID CRAP!" Sanji snapped, glaring at his father. "What good is it for when I have a shitty father and shitty brothers who wouldn't give a damn if I lived or died?"

"You ungrateful brat!" Judge stood up from his throne and turned to Ichiji and Niji. "Throw him in the dungeon. If he's so miserable living in comfort let him rot in the cells." He glared at Sanji as the other two grabbed the blond and dragged him away.

"No! Let me go!" Sanji resisted against their grasp. If he's locked away, he won't be able to see you. He needed to leave, he needed to meet you at the oak tree. You two were just about to start your lives together.

"Shut up already, Sanji," Ichiji groaned as he casually tossed his younger brother in the cell.

"Hope you like talking to rats," Niji laughed as he shut the door.

Sanji stood up and banged his hand against the door. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS! LET OUT! I NEED TO SEE-"

Sanji paused as horror splashed in his mind. You were out there, waiting for him by the oak tree, unaware he was locked in a cage. You would left waiting there, and you would think he broke his promise. Shouting at the door was useless.

He glanced around, his heart racing with overwhelmed emotions. Spotting a small bar window, he grabbed onto it and began shouting with all his lungs.

"[Y/N]! [Y/NNNNNNNNNNNN]!!! CAN YOU HEAR ME [Y/N]!?!!!"

He cried and sobbed, pleading that you'd somehow hear his voice, yet no one could hear him but the moon.

Tag: @bookandyarndragon @roseoftrafalgar

[rosestraumablog]

Tw: jail, torture, cult mention,

Thinking about that one post that’s like “rose claims to be a survivor and yet she calls ramcoa survivors delusional”

Let’s clear some things up

I was in a cult, if you’ve been here for a while you’d know that. It was called synanon if you want to know more about them you can look it up I don’t really want to get into it here.

I was also tortured both in this cult and after it once I got out when I was in juvenile detention for assaulting a cult higher up. You might be thinking to yourself “oh surely you weren’t tortured you’re just being dramatic” and to that I say go fuck yourself. I was secluded for the whole 4 weeks I was there (like secluded secluded no contact with anyone besides the same female guard), I was stripped of my clothing while in my cell (24/7) and forced to wear a Kevlar smock because I was on suicide watch because I had come from a “treatment program” (the cult), my food was regularly restricted if I didn’t comply with their searches of my person or cell, I was deprived of sleep and left in restraints for hours at a time. . . Alone . . . In a freezing all white room.

Also back to the delulu part, I understand that it offended some people and I will be removing it from my bio.

Just because I don’t use your term doesn’t mean you get to say that I’m just “claiming” to be a survivor. I am a very real survivor of organized / ritualistic abuse but I am not and never will be a ramcoa survivor.

[whump-about-it]

Nothing but a Monster

@febuwhump Day 2: Solitary Confinement

CW: captivity, brain washed whumpee, suicidal ideation (brief), devolving mental state, supernatural whumpee, uncontrolled power.

This was supposed to be a punishment for Whumpee. Being forced into a room alone. Meals passed to them on a tray through a metal slot in the door. No contact with other people. Not even being able to see a face or hear another human voice.

To be fair, some of it was torturous. There were no windows in Whumpee's cell. And the single florescent light in the ceiling, flickered incessantly and was slowly burning out. The mattress was like concrete and the water that came out of the sink in the corner smelled and tasted like sulfur. Worst of all, there wasn't anything to do in the cell other than think; and Whumpee's least favorite place to be was the inside of their own head.

Whumpee knew they would probably go insane if their were left in here too long. But they didn't really mind that. They considered it penance.

They had hurt so many people.

Whumpee could yell and scream at their captors all they wanted that they couldn't control their powers. That they hadn't meant to hurt anyone. That some of those people were their own loved ones. But they knew no one would believe them. They didn't even believe that themselves most of the time. If they really hadn't wanted to hurt all those people then they would have tried harder to control their powers. Or isolated themselves sooner. Or ended things all together. But something inside of them must have liked it. That's what Whumper always said. If they really wanted it to stop than they would have been able to.

Whumpee was nothing but a monster. And humanity was safer with them in this cell. Anyway, they also didn't have to worry about hurting anyone when they were in here. The anxiety that was always twisting in their stomach was a little less, and they enjoyed that. So really it wasn't a punishment at all. Sure maybe they would waste away and go insane. Divorced from the world and totally forgotten accept for the poor soul who had to feed them. But at least the world was safe from them.

And Whumpee could take comfort in that.

[little-peril-stories]

Febuwhump Day 2 - Solitary Confinement

From Man of Letters:

All the scholar could hear was his own ragged breath. The panicked rasping. The frantic gasp of each intake of air as he tried desperately to regain his senses.

Dead. He’s dead.

They’d thrown him inside, heedless of how his sight failed him and his feet stumbled and scrabbled beneath him. Now he lay motionless, tasting blood, pretending that this was all part of his plan. He didn’t move from where he’d fallen.

He’s dead, and I killed him.

He couldn’t move. He barely wanted to. The deed was done; the choice was made. There was no running, not for him. Not anymore.

The room was quiet, but it was distinctly unlike the soothing peace of the library where he had spent so many hours of his life. This—this was an ominous quiet, heavy with dread, slippery with promise. The promise—and memory—of death.

Leave him in there, they’d said, until the prince arrives.

The thud of a body striking rough stone rang in his ears. It was only once he was already prone—still reeling from the impact—that the scholar realized it had been his own weary, grief-stricken bones and his own torn skin scraping against the floor.

Let the prince decide what to do with the bastard.

[trans-axolotl]

thinking a lot today about protest and resistance while in solitary confinement. or while incarcerated (and/or institutionalized) more broadly. reading a lot of writing from incarcerated writers and through the prison journalism project and rereading sick woman theory by Johanna Hedva and just thinking about the quote "Sick Woman Theory is an insistence that most modes of political protest are internalized, lived, embodied, suffering, and no doubt invisible" (Hedva, 5). and thinking about what it means to resist when all that is left to you is your body, a room, and time--how do you fight back? what options are left to you? what ways is your resistance legible, who is the audience to your resistance and does it still matter if no one ever sees? (yes, i think--i remember hours spent in restraint because i had hugged a friend and i keep thinking about the concept that protest is disruption, a refusal to allow business to keep happening as usual, and what that means about making cruelty visible by refusing to participate in that normalization. even as i was taken away, removed, made invisible--does that removal make my absence louder?)

thinking about the ways self destruction is used as protest when you have no other options--hunger strikes perhaps the most familiar iteration of this. what gets labeled as "symptom" and what is recognized as resistance varies by person by context by environment. thinking about how almost everyone i know who's been in solitary confinement started self harming eventually. what need does that meet? when all options for autonomy, privacy, and interaction is taken away, how do we meet those needs ourselves? i think a lot about survival, and remember YWEP's concept of self harm as resilience, and think a lot about what it means to keep yourself alive when all you have is your body and your mind and an empty room and time. what things become more important than physical pain? how might physical pain become important? how does our relationship between our body and harm change in that environment? how do you stay sane in solitary confinement, or maybe more importantly, how do you go insane in a way that hurts you less? what does sanity even mean when you have been placed in an unlivable environment? is resistance a basic need we need to meet when we are placed in such a hostile environment? how did i survive & how are my friends currently surviving & how many more people will i have to lose who were killed that way before this fucking ends?

[oneweirdbookaddict]

Wumptober day three!

I torture Four thats it thats the fic

996 words

Warnings for depersonalization? But not really? If anyone wants any just let me know. Same for tags!

~~~~

He- they? He- wakes up alone. In silence. 

Absolute silence. He hears… nothing. Not the ever present voices in his head, no people outside… wherever he is, a damp, cold, dark room… nothing. 

He stands, eyes wide, unable to see anything. 

“He- hello?” 

What… what happened to me? Where am I? Why is it… quiet? 

He swallows. Ignores the shakiness he feels, the anxiousness he can’t shake. 

One hand in front of him, the other on the wall next to him, he takes a slow lap around the room. Feels nothing but a jagged, rough wall. 

He scuffs his foot on the floor- it makes no noise. 

His eyes widen, doing it again, again, again- 

No sound. 

Breaths stuttering, he slowly finds a corner and sinks down against it. “H- h- hey. Ok. This… it’s ok. It’s ok. It’s just… quiet. Yeah. You’re not injured, nothing’s wrong… it’s just… quiet.” 

The silence is deafening. 

“Hello?” He whispers, desperate for something from his head. The voices. 

Silence. 

Something’s wrong. 

His chest tightens, throat closing, eyes widening. He reaches a hand back and grabs his hair, his hand shaking. 

“Guys.” 

It’s too quiet. 

It’s way, way too quiet. 

He can’t take it. 

“Stop. Stop that. I don’t… what’s happening? What’s going on? What’s happening to me?!” 

No response. Nothing. It’s… silent. 

Silent. 

Deafeningly silent. 

Two years. Two years since the adventure that split him, two years his head has been loud and he hasn’t been alone in two years and now, inexplicably, it was silent. 

“Stop.” He whispers. Pleads. He’s not sure what he’s doing. “Make it stop. I don’t want this. It’s too quiet. It’s too quiet. Stop. Make it stop. Please.” 

Nothing. 

His breaths ache in his throat, chest heaving, gasping frantically. The silence… is too loud. 

That doesn’t even make sense. 

“Stop stop stop stop stop stop.” He whispers, hands moving over his ears. 

He gets no response, no answer, no relief. 

He moves to his knees, elbows on the ground in front of him, still covering his ears. And he screams. 

Screams until his throat aches and his chest hurts and he wants anything, anything, to relieve him from this awful silence but he doesn’t get anything. 

And he just keeps screaming.

~~~~

Four sits with a blanket around his shoulders, shivering. 

It’d been a week since they’d found him. 

It’d been a week since Four’s said anything. 

A week since Four’s… done… anything. 

He sits. Stares of into space. Kind of reacts if someone tries to get his attention. 

“Four?” Wars says softly, now. 

A slow blink. 

“Hey… Four, can you… hear me?” 

Another blink. 

A shiver. 

Wars slowly puts another blanket around the smith. 

Solid black eyes flick to Wars. 

Four’s eyes had been a solid, daunting black. His irises, usually a light grey, had just… at some point during his captivity, shifted to a inky, soulless black.

He also absolutely despised the quiet. 

They’d learned that the hard way. 

When they’d found Four, they’d had to knock him out to get him out of that room. Four fought tooth and nail, screaming the entire time, nearly breaking Wild’s nose. 

He’d woken up a few hours later. Shifted, eyes snapping wide open, in the middle of the night. And screamed. And screamed. And screamed. 

Only calmed when Twi sat next to him, talking softly. 

Since then, someone was constantly talking to the smith. Even if he’d never respond, never really seemed to listen to the words. Just… couldn’t do the silence. 

Whoever was on watch was also tasked with talking. Four rarely slept anymore. 

Time’s taken to playing his ocarina, which actually seemed to help Four a lot. 

At least… Got Four’s attention. The smith had slowly turned to Time, eyes watching him while he played. Until he’d slowly drifted off to sleep. 

“Hey, bud… you doing ok?” Wars tries. 

No response 

Four’s eyes drift away, back to the fire. And just stares. 

He doesn’t look back at Wars. Not for the whole time Wars tries to talk to him. 

Camp is quiet tonight. They’re all restless- not moving for a week has gotten under their skin. But Time doesn’t have them continue. “Not with Four… like this,” he says whenever someone asks. 

Wars gives up, sighing and leaning back on his elbows. 

They all glance around at each other. Silence falls over them. 

Four’s breaths quicken. Panic fill those black eyes. A soft whimper, then another. 

“Shh… it’s ok. You’re ok. You’re not in danger.” Sky says softly, moving to the smith. 

Trembling. 

“It’s alright.” Sky repeats, putting a cautious hand on Four’s shoulder. “You’re safe. Nothing will hurt you here.”

The skyloftian pulls out a harp, strumming it softly. 

The smith’s eyes slowly drift to Sky. Watching. 

Slowly relaxes, eyes fixed on the knight. 

Twi slowly sits on Four’s other side, getting the younger to lean on him. 

Shifts the blankets to keep them around the smithy, arm wrapping gently around him as Four watches Sky play. 

Until black eyes droop, slowly drifting shut, his breathing slowly evening out and slowing down. 

“Ok. Does anyone have any idea what’s going on with him?” Wars says quietly, standing and glancing around at them all. 

“Does it have something to do with his sword?” Wild asks, and gets a few looks. 

The champion hesitates, then- “He… can do something with the sword. It’s… I don’t really know how it works or how it affects him, but… we don’t have it. We couldn’t find it. And it does something to him- I think… well, maybe we need to find it.” 

“What does it do?” Twi asks, glancing over to the champion. 

Wild hesitates again. “It… well… splits him. Into different parts of himself. That sounds weird… but he’s… shown me. Four different parts, four different…” 

“So if these parts are… hmm.” Legend mumbles, trailing off. 

Then looks up at them, noticing them all coming to the same conclusion. 

“We need to find that sword.” 

~~~~

[serickswrites]

Except the Moon

Warnings: captivity, torture, touch starved, loneliness, self sacrifice

Whumpee hadn't bothered to get out of the makeshift bed they had made in the room Whumper locked them in for the last several days. And they knew it had been days based on the progression of light and changes in the night. But they couldn't be bothered any longer. They had been here for so long. So terribly, terribly long. And they just couldn't care anymore.

When they had volunteered in Caretaker's stead, begged Whumper to take them instead, that had thought that Whumper would hurt them until they died and that would be it. They didn't think they would be locked in a room, alone, for weeks with no one to talk to, touch, or even see. All they had was the small window near the top of their cell where they could see the sky, the sun, and more often than not, the moon.

They had screamed and hollered the first several days they were there. Beat on the door. Tried to scale to the small window. But it had all been to no avail.

They had thought that Whumper would come for them then. Begin their torture then. But Whumper hadn't. Other than the slat opening in the wall and food appearing at regular intervals, Whumpee had not seen nor heard from Whumper since Whumper threw them in the room.

And they were so terribly lonely. They had nothing. No one. Except the moon. "I wish Caretaker was here. Not here instead. But here with me," they whispered to the moon. In the last few days, they found themself talking to the moon, hoping she would listen, but not daring to hope she would grant their wish.

Whumpee knew all they had to do was beg Whumper to make it stop, to trade places with Caretaker, and they would be free. But they couldn't do that. Though they longed to be seen, to be heard, and most of all to be touched, they couldn't do that. They couldn't let Caretaker be tortured like this. Or like anyway.

And so they would stay. Alone in this room with no company, except the moon.

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

In The Depths

new take on an old concept but i <3 s5 so i will never stop writing about that

ao3

Prompt: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.” / Solitary confinement

Fandom: Ninjago

Characters: Lloyd Garmadon, Morro (mentioned), Kai (mentioned)

Summary: Lloyd is alone. He thinks?

Trigger Warnings: blood, possession, self-harm

436 words

There was gunk building under his fingernails. He didn’t know where it was coming from — maybe it was connected to the intense itch of the bones in his forearms. Like his skin was pulled too tight over them. Like whatever was inside of him was taking up too much space. 

He looked down at himself, realizing what exactly it was. Something different. Rough, gritty liquid that was — it was — vibrant and hot and what was the word — what was it…?

He searched his mind, but it felt about as empty as this place. Huge, blank, and nothing else. 

Color, his inner dialogue said helpfully. Red.

Color. He barely remembered what color even was. But it was different. It was beautiful. And he needed more.

He raked his nails across his arms, desperate now, not only to get the squirming itching creature beneath out, but to see more of that color.

Red was something. It was something… something important. It brought to mind a face and a voice he couldn’t remember quite right, but they were there anyway. It was good. Red was good. He needed more of it.

Pricks of it beaded along his skin, angry itching underneath. The red under his nails continued to increase. It smeared over his fingertips, over his palms. Sticky, wet, warm, like fire…

Whatever vague recognition that may have been there was chased away by It. His arms were forced apart from each other, stuck behind his back by some unseen force. The red was fading, like it had never really been there at all. 

“...oyd please, I know you’re still in there, you can fight him!”

That was… oh. Oh. He snapped awake, fighting to the surface of his mind, shoving on the barrier that kept him isolated. The world snapped into vibrant clarity.

“Kai—” he gasped, actually seeing for the first time in — he didn’t know how long. Where were they? Why was everything still white, still cold, still — snow. They were in the snow.

His brother’s face softened, letting down his guard. “Lloyd? Is that really you?” he asked, lowering his weapon.

His body reacted against his control, drawing his own sword in an effort to strike Kai down. Lloyd couldn’t stop it before he was being dragged back down, kicking and screaming as he was drowned out of his own head.

He landed somewhere deeper than before, colorless, lightless, and stuck in a straitjacket that left him unable to move an inch. His life faded from memory, trickling away like a bucket with a hole in the bottom.

The world was empty, just like this place.

[mjrino]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Link & Revali (Legend of Zelda), Revali & Zelda (Legend of Zelda) (brief), Link/Revali (Legend of Zelda) Characters: Link (Legend of Zelda), Revali (Legend of Zelda), Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Additional Tags: implied revalink, zelda makes a VERY brief appearance, i gotta write more of her, Whump, Whumptober 2023, Whumptober, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, i'm actually so tired rn, anyway, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, well i mean, the comfort is kinda mild, Hopeful Ending, Mild Fluff, at the end, i honestly don't know how good this is, whatever tho, Solitary Confinement, for 100 years, believe it or not this is actually proofread, Kinda Series: Part 3 of Mira's Whumptober 2023 Summary:

100 years is a very long time to be alone.

Written for Whumptober day 3: Solitary confinement.

[maeattemptsateverything]

Record Log: Apr 1st

The staff has been reporting the recent increase in hostile behavior of Subject TS_904 1, following its acclimatization process in Zone 1. Emergency room staff also notified of multiple cases of serious injuries of HTD agents, as well as other test subjects.

Zone Direction Committee has requiered standar security measures, including muzzling and arm restraints at all times; despite this, the injury reports persisted.

Record Log: Apr 11th

HTD Captain 2 proposed an strategy involving Subject TS_27 3, sugesting that an interaction between the two subjects might placate TS_904's behavior. HTD Captain cited the attachement between the subjects as the basis for this hypotesis.

Record Log: Apr 12th

Contrary to previous interventions, the exposure of TS_904 to Subject TS_27 yielded a noticeable difference in results.

TS_904; An angelical creature; State enemy; Age unknow; Humanoid hybrid with antlers, bird wings and hooves.

HTD Captain; Hans Kesselman; 36 year old male; responsible for the retrieval of TS_904

TS_27; Émile Finch; State enemy; 28 year old male; Found harboring TS-904 and found guilty of treason.

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Lab whump! Lab whump! Lab whump!

Here we whump angels and humans alike :)