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tildeathiwillwrite · 4 months

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Merry Whumpmas 2023 Day 26: Shivering

Another direct continuation of Day 10: Hypothermia, this time from the Whumper's POV.

For more shivering whump, check out Day 4: Chills.

TW: imprisonment, hypothermia, vulnerability, implied nudity, noncon undressing (nonsexual)

Whumper shoved Whumpee into the cell, not even bothering to secure their bonds before slamming the door shut and searching for dry clothing. Whumpee, in their hypothermic, shivering state, had barely reacted to the temperature change when they finally returned to Whumper’s lair. They would not attempt to escape. Not that they would get very far if they tried.

Finding what they were looking for, Whumper returned to Whumpee’s cell. Whumpee had not moved an inch in the moments they'd been gone, instead curling up into a pathetic shaking ball. Whumper regarded them for a few long moments, arms full of clothes, towels, and blankets.

Whumpee’s lips had turned purple. On the trek back from the lake, their wet hair had iced over in a matted clump that, starting to melt, was dripping water all over the cell floor. Their body wasn't shivering so much as spasming as their muscles tried desperately to keep them warm.

Whumper could leave them like this. Alone, soaked to the skin in icy water, Whumpee would surely freeze to death before sunrise, even in the slightly warmer confines of the cell. Whumper could walk away and put all the dry things back in their places. They would still serve as a fine example for the others.

Nothing would stop them.

No one would dare question what had happened. Whumper’s underlings were being paid not to ask questions, and the other prisoners would be too beaten down, too terrified by Whumpee’s tragic death, to speak against Whumper.

Whumper sighed through their nose. Death would be far too merciful for Whumpee. No, they would serve as a living reminder of what Whumper was capable of. The memory of the frozen lake would suffice to keep them in line.

Dropping the mess of clothing, towels, and blankets in a heap in the corner, Whumper crouched down beside Whumpee, careful not to get their pants wet in the puddle forming beneath them. Slowly, methodically, Whumper pulled untied the ropes around Whumpee’s wrists and began to strip off the soaked garments.

Whumpee whimpered, teeth chattering uncontrollably, and tried to recoil, but they were too weak from the ordeal in the icy water. “If you don't get out of these clothes,” Whumper hissed, tugging Whumpee’s shirt over their head, “you will die a very unpleasant death.”

“R—r—r—r—ra—-ra—rath—”

Whumper smirked as Whumpee struggled to form words. “Rather what? Rather die? No… I think not.”

Dropping the shirt to the floor, Whumper continued removing Whumpee’s clothing until it all lay in a pile at their feet, a soaking wet and naked Whumpee curled up next to it. Rummaging through the heap in the corner, Whumper found the towels and carefully began to pat Whumpee dry, reveling in how they cringed and flinched away.

Not another word was spoken, but the dark look on Whumpee’s face as Whumper finished dressing them in the set of clean clothing brought Whumper more amusement than harsh words ever could. New ropes went around Whumpee’s wrists and ankles; and Whumper even generously allowed Whumpee to keep a blanket, as their hair was still damp, their lips still purple.

Gathering Whumpee’s old clothes and the now-wet towels, Whumper left the cell and locked it behind them. Fabric rustled, and Whumper glanced back just in time to see the blanket hit the bars and fall to the ground. Whumper blinked, looking from the fallen blanket to Whumpee, who crouched in the corner of the cell, glaring at Whumpee with such malevolence Whumper could almost taste it.

Whumper inhaled sharply. How dare they—!

They closed their eyes and exhaled. When they reopened their eyes, Whumper worked their face into an expression of simple annoyance and disappointment, a clear contrast from the bubbling rage that made their fingers curl into fists and tightened their jaw. Stooping, Whumper pulled the blanket through the bars and added it to the top of the bundle in their arms.

Whumper did not spare Whumpee another glance as they left, no matter how much they wanted to drop everything and show Whumpee exactly how the consequences of their actions would affect them. As Whumper continued down the hallway, they congratulated themselves on their restraint. Whumpee would see their punishment in due time.

All in due time.

#merry whumpmas #my writing #whump #whump scenario #whumpee #whumper #stubborn whumpee #hypothermia whump #hypothermia #shivering #vulnerable #nakedness whump #implied nudity #creepy whumper #imprisonment #imprisonment tw

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crowzwhump · 7 months

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In softly lit chamber, the feeble light cast eerie shadows on the cold stone walls, creating a melancholic ambiance that seemed to seep into every crevice of Whumpee's existence.

The air was heavy and thick with despair.

Whumpee's once-proud spirit, now broken and battered, clung desperately to their bat form within the confines of the ornate bird cage.

Their powerful wings now tightly wrapped around their small trembling form.

Days had blurred together into a never-ending nightmare, time measured only by the cruel visits from Whumper.

The malevolent figure, shrouded in darkness, would approach the cage with a twisted sense of delight.

Their voice, dripping with sadistic glee, taunted Whumpee.

"Such a charming addition to my collection you make," Whumper would jeer, their words a haunting echo in the chamber's solitude, adding "You've adapted quite well to your new role my little pet."

And during the rare moments of reprieve, when Whumper permitted Whumpee to return to their human form, there was a deceptive relief.

As Whumpee unfolded their limbs, their joints protested, their muscles screamed, and their entire body throbbed with the relentless ache of prolonged confinement.

Tears welled in their eyes, but they dared not show weakness before their captor.

The chamber bore witness to this relentless cycle, It was a place devoid of peace, where despair hung in the air like a heavy vale.

Whumpee clung desperately to a flicker of hope, a burning determination deep within, yearning for the day when they could turn the tables on the sadistic Whumper and bring an end to this never-ending nightmare.

#captivity tw #imprisonment tw #dehumanization tw #pet whump #vampire whump #supernatural whump #vampire whumpee #whump scenarios #whump scenario #captivity whump #vampiric whump #vampire #whump ideas #whump idea #whump inspiration #whump prompt #whump thoughts #whump community #whump blog

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 1 year

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bad dreams

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selfshippingquotes · 2 years

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F/O: I'm going to let S/I fix this, because if I try to fix this, I'm going to jail.

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vuulpecula · 8 months

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"Get up," Fox kicked the bars of the makeshift cell. They were buried deep in one of the forgotten prepper holes, an occasional hideout of the Whitetails. The lights above flickered, power sketchy without the generator running constantly. There was no way she was going to risk his pack finding them now. Not after all he'd put her through.

"Don't make me ask again," perhaps she had been kinder with John, but she was tired now. Body pushed where it shouldn't have to go, still weak from the trials, whatever he had put her through. Nerves frayed as badly as the tears on his military jacket. "Doesn't feel good being on that side of the cage, does it?"

✖ @general-kalani

#general-kalani #x | v. baby doll i recognize your hideous thing inside; if ever there were a lucky kind its you ( FAR CRY 5 ONE. )#x | i'm not living i'm just killing time ( QUEUE. )#imprisonment tw #trauma tw #ptsd tw #[ lmk if i should change anything and i will!!!! ]

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actress4him · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 - Day 3 - Querencia

This takes place during Lili's facility days, somewhere in the midst of chapter 3.

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @inky-whump , @painful-pooch , @pigeonwhumps , @bookworm2107

Masterlist

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Contains: minor whumpee (16-17) but it's only angst not physical whump, lady whump, implied imprisonment, insomnia

The moon is bright tonight. It must be full, or close to it. Liliana can’t tell for sure, she can’t ever get the right angle up through the small window at the ceiling to actually see it, but the way it’s lighting up the foot of her bed definitely makes it seem like a full moon.

She sits up, curling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, staring up at the window. It’s probably been at least an hour since the lights turned out and all the doors were locked - by her best guess, she doesn’t have a clock - but she can’t sleep. That’s not unusual. She has a hard time falling asleep most nights, or she’ll wake up randomly in the middle of the night and not be able to go back to sleep. She doesn’t have the option to turn on a lamp or the overhead light to do anything like read, though, so she just stays in bed and stares at the ceiling or the wall…or the dark expanse outside the window.

Tonight, the moonlight spilling across her bed reminds her of being a child. She was always fascinated by the moon. Normally, when she was really young, she’d be tucked into bed before it was dark enough to really see the moon, but sometimes she’d stay awake as long as she could so that she could peek out her curtains and catch a glimpse of it. Her Mamà taught her the little poem one night, when they were coming home from somewhere late and Liliana was enamored by the moon ‘following’ the car. “I see the moon, and the moon sees me…”

Even when she got a bit older, she would sometimes pretend that the moonlight would keep her safe from harm. Whenever the soft white light would come peeking through the blinds onto her bed, she’d crawl to the other end and curl up, letting the lines fall across her face and imagining she could feel its warmth.

Slowly, quietly, she does the same thing now. The battered metal frame of the bed squeaks as her weight transfers. She wiggles around until she can wrap the thin, scratchy sheet around herself in this new position, then settles into place and blinks up at the window once more.

She can just see the bottom portion of the moon. She’s bathed in its light, much more so than when it was shining through her blinds, but…she doesn’t feel anything.

There’s no warmth. There’s no protection. The moon isn’t magical, it’s just a cold, unfeeling light, looking down at her struggles and heartache with apathy. Back when she was a child, pretending it was something more, she was already safe. She had nothing to worry about. She was lying in her cozy bed on top of soft blankets, surrounded by her beloved plushies with a family who loved her just down the hall.

But the moon didn’t keep her safe, and neither did anything else. And trying to bring back a little bit of that lost childhood while lying on a rock hard mattress in a cold room locked from the outside feels completely ridiculous.

Sitting up abruptly, Liliana moves back to her pillow, curling on her side with the sheet pulled up to her chin and her back facing the window.

#whumptober2023 #no.3 #lyric #like crying out in empty rooms with no-one there except the moon #original content #fic #minor whumpee tw #imprisonment tw #querencia #liliana the healer #lady whump #lady whumpee #urban fantasy #whump series

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snowfuls · 9 months

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setting : enobaria's hotel, a little after the arena's destruction.

there's commotion outside. previously slack-jawed over the fiery scenes that had just played out across the screen of her holo, enobaria's on high alert now. something was deeply wrong and worst of all, she's isolated from the rest of her team. once a lone wolf, always a lone wolf — so it seemed. heavy footfall is what draws the victor away from her hotel room. a pair of knives concealed in each sleeve of her blouse, their hilts cradled in her palms. the sight of a squadron of peacekeepers storming the lobby is cause for blood to run cold. she might have been able to think nothing of it... had they not unsheathed batons and what looked to be electric prods upon spotting her there. they call her name, an emotionless warning. urging her to comply and come quietly. "we'd just like to ask you some questions, enobaria." they claim. scoffing soundlessly, her gaze darkens at the implication. they think she had something to do with all this, don’t they? years of loyalty squandered. it's as she'd feared from the very beginning. only it wasn't thea and ezra’s relationship that’d implicated district two after all… it was ezra’s "heroic" stunt in the arena and now, they were all going to pay the price for his treachery. the group of helmets move closer still, gaining on her as enobaria stands her ground. perfectly poised in the very same way she'd been while facing off against the boy from district ten exactly a decade ago now. before she'd torn his throat out with her teeth. enobaria’s fight from that monumental day remains in tact. it always has and the capitol only has itself to blame for that. former embers stoked to new flames as the peacekeepers come to stand before her. two suits deciding they'll take the lead as enobaria just smiles at them. it's entirely forced but wide enough to flash both rows of sharpened enamel. one last glimpse at the monster they'd made of her.

within an instant, it starts. she lunges at the first, throwing her body around his with characteristic agility, landing square on his shoulders, legs dangling from his front like a child’s might during a piggyback. only exceptionally deadlier as enobaria’s never been one to pull punches. swift to strike, she plunges one of her knives into his throat, the other soon finds itself lodged in his companion’s shoulder — flying from her grasp, ever the extension of her. aim focused upon the cracks in their armour. thighs tighten around the wounded area. it's remorseless. choking the life from him as blood begins to splutter everywhere. gradually, he'll sink to his knees in pain, trying desperately in a reddened haze to grab at her throat as he does so but his aim is off. missing her neck entirely, hand smacks her in the face instead and the way in which her jaw immediately clamps down around it is nothing short of instinctual. the feeling of fangs meeting flesh through the fabric of peacekeeper gloves, drawing blood into her mouth is one defined by visceral familiarity. eager to put distance between between them, she rolls off his back with ease, taking half his hand and several of his fingers along with her. the vibrant red seeping from parted lips as she spits the human remnants to the ground. eyes wild and uncaring. she's resolved to fighting her way out of this, burying hopelessness as more approach. they thrust at her, batons raised whilst she swipes and kicks and screams. a pool of blood framing the carnage. a truly hellish scene for bystanders but they had just seen their precious games go up in flames! this must pale in comparison. surely.

or perhaps this is the finale they were robbed of. blood, guts and all. a fitting end for the victor, on this — the tenth anniversary of her win. only it's abruptly cut short. a sharp, long-drawn sting of electricity finally taking her down. bringing enobaria to the ground with a resounding thud as the shock and burning set her nerves on fire, nullifying her intrinsic violence in an instant. it doesn't stop however. the electrocution. they persist in subduing her, with not just one prod but several... jabbing her with them relentlessly, all at once until the pain grows so unbearable that darkness clouds her vision. it's inevitable. the storm fading from her eyes and with it, her consciousness.

it's an indeterminable amount of time later when she awakes, body screaming at her. raging against what she can't yet to see. the alarm gradual in her drowsy haze but all it really takes is a single look to understand the dire reality of her new situation. she's caged in. forced into a fetal position by metal bars that scarcely contain her. made all the worse by a heavy contraption bound around her neck, weighing her freshly frail frame down. fragility's so unlike her. a cruelty all on its own. a far cry from the fierce stoicism she's renowned for. it's a pitiful sight, she's sure. this punishment, likely unique to her — leaving no room for doubt that she is every bit the wild cat they've spent years portraying as. they see enobaria as little more than a feral animal and now, they finally have her caged up like one too.

#violence tw #blood tw #disfigurement tw #electrocution tw #imprisonment tw #teeth horror tw #𓂅 ⋆ ⧽ ㅤ 𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ㅤ ╰ ㅤ ⋆ㅤ enobaria .#eventideevent03 #a lil self para moment before replies #if i’ve forgotten a trigger pls lmk <3

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slverblood · 2 months

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NOTES ON LONG-TERM EFFECTS.

I'm not slapping a proper banner on this because it's . . . Listen, I'm not a medical professional of any sort, and I've never endured the torture Aylin has. I'll always attempt to research and approach matters respectfully, and for me, that means admitting shortcomings. This is only a bare overview of what Aylin endured while imprisoned and what long-term effects I find likely. Everything outlined below is subject to alteration in the future as I research more + continue developing her character. And of course, I'm always open to correction where needed. Trigger warnings for imprisonment, torture (psychological and physical), death, amputation, starvation, disordered eating, depression, anxiety, and related subjects. Under a read more for further discretion.

Firstly, we can assume that certain things affect Aylin differently. She's technically an aasimar or at least appears to be, but there's a great deal that's unusual about her even psychologically. However, it is abundantly clear that she is nevertheless a person and has been traumatized by her torment. She hasn't quite accepted that yet during the game, but it's there.

WHAT DID IMPRISONMENT ENTAIL?

Firstly, there was the trauma of Isobel's recent death and, in my headcanons, her own adventuring companions being sacrificed to create the soul cage.

She was confined to the very small area of that ritual circle for a century.

She was killed at least hundreds of times by prospective Dark Justiciars.

She had body parts harvested from her hundreds, perhaps thousands, of times by Balthazar.

She was never provided food or drink, both weakening her and causing her to die of thirst + starvation thousands of times.

She had no social interaction aside from those coming to torment her.

She experienced the feeling of constantly being watched and was subjected to disturbing visions of people / places important to her.

There was no night/day, no sense of time passing whatsoever.

Imprisonment itself was a sensory hell:

No physical touch aside from the spectral hands keeping her bound, Balthazar harvesting body parts from her, or prospective Dark Justiciars slaying her.

There is no light, color, or warmth in the Shadowfell aside from what people bring with them — and even that is almost entirely negated. Any she saw would have come with those intending to torment her.

The landscape of the Shadowfell is constantly shifting and unmappable, in addition to the darkness and lack of color.

She could never trust what her ears were hearing unless she made the sound herself. Sometimes she couldn't even trust that.

She was spared the emotional numbness that descends on those who linger over long there, but sometimes she wished for it, and a type of numbness did come as her mind attempted to cope with her situation.

NOTE ON PHYSICAL EFFECTS.

Due to her extreme regenerative abilities, she avoided any scarring from her many deaths. Even body parts harvested from her regrew as if she'd never lost them. Nevertheless, she was physically and spiritually weakened both by prolonged exposure to the Shadowfell (particular hell for the daughter of the Moonmaiden) and starvation / thirst. She is immune to diseases canonically, but I feel we can assume she has basic needs like food and water.

I would argue that she was at a higher level when she was imprisoned, but the combination of above factors nerfed her. The reason she is always the same level as the player when freed is freeing her from the soul cage also allows her to take some strength from them. Releasing her was always as simple as placing a hand on her in friendship, lending her your strength. But, no one would ever do it.

WHAT ARE THE LONG-TERM EFFECTS?

On a generalized level, there is depression, anxiety, panic attacks, but that's not all.

She is initially very reluctant to be out of her armor and/or away from her sword. Nudity used to be a total non-issue for her; now she doesn't even want to remove her gauntlets. Isobel is the singular exception to this for a long time, and even then there are moments she can't bring herself to disarm.

She used to be a very physical person even with strangers. Now she finds she's extremely averse to it. Isobel is, again, the one exception for a long time, but there are, again, times where even that is too overwhelming.

She becomes overstimulated very easily for a long time. Light, sound, warmth, color, etc. — she's been without them for so long that now even the smallest whisper can be like a thunderous crash. She often hyperfixates on stimuli as well; she cannot simply ignore it or distract herself. This leads to irritability if not enragement at times.

On the other hand, she frequently struggles with brain fog that prevents her from focusing on anything. There are periods where she'll try to intentionally retreat into this because everything else is too overwhelming.

Both her sense of time and sleep schedule are completely destroyed. She'll rebuild some sense of this over time, but it will always be tenuous.

Honestly, her sense of direction has taken a hit, too. She's been confined to a ritual circle for a century within an ever-changing landscape. She has to relearn how to navigate. To the point that, if she walks away from the party's camp alone, she'll struggle to find her way back. She becomes lost very easily for a long while.

Additionally, although she's eager to throw herself back into the Selûnite community / world at large, she finds that reintegration is not that simple for her. She's gone so long without any social contact at all, let alone a sense of community. Throwing herself back in has a poor effect on her. She ultimately needs to keep her social circle small.

She's had a near perfect memory all her life but now will seem "forgetful" or "distracted". In reality, it's the result of short term memory loss and difficulty focusing.

She's extremely averse to being restrained or anything that reminds her of being restrained. Even a hand on her arm / wrist can prove a problem. Isobel is not an exception to this one.

Although light can be overstimulating, she's averse to total darkness. However, she's also averse to candles, lamps, etc. in the dark as it reminds her of Justiciars / Balthazar coming to harm her. She needs the sight of the moon and stars to be comforted. Motes of moonlight and possibly similar spells are a viable alternative.

She frequently forgets about personal hygiene. It wasn't an option for her for a century. Gentle reminders and setting a routine can help with this.

Same with food + drink. She will go so long without them that it endangers her life if not reminded. Setting a meal schedule and encouraging her to carry snacks + drinks helps.

She's overall hypervigilant and finds it difficult to relax. She doesn't quite exhibit paranoia in addition, but she is always on the alert, especially for anyone wishing to imprison or slay her again.

She displays some poor impulse control as well, especially where her temper and her well-being are concerned. Outside of impulses, she will throw herself into danger without a thought as, after dying thousands of times, pain and death mean nothing to her. She will always come back, regardless of whether she wants to. Why should she worry about something as trifling as her health?

In the beginning, it is sometimes difficult to know whether she saw / heard something. She spent so long being assaulted by the Shadowfell's visions that, once freed, she has to test whether x occurrence is real. I do think she was able to test the validity of visions in the Shadowfell (to a limited extent within her confines) and of course was armed with the knowledge that the Shadowfell does lie. Her perception of reality is not shattered by her imprisonment, but she still feels the need to be certain of some things in the beginning. The effect of these visions for her was more akin to being tortured with intrusive thoughts of evil befalling loved ones / places.

NOTE ON DENIAL.

Aylin has a hard time coming to grips with what she's endured. It's hard for her to realize let alone accept that there are long-term effects. She wants it all to be over: the helplessness, the pain, the fear. She feels that, since she is not scarred physically, she should not be scarred at all. Surely she is too mighty for that. Surely the Daughter of the Moonmaiden is above such things. Surely the touch of her tormentors is on her no longer. Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that.

Her greatest obstacle is going to be simply admitting that she's not okay. She's going to keep trying to throw herself forward over and over until she's forced to admit there's something wrong. Then she'll try to handle it entirely on her own. She's never truly relied on anyone in her life; she has always been the rock, the bulwark, the shelter. She feels shame to admit she's struggling. Especially after all that's happened, even the slightest sense of weakness is unbearable to her. Building a support system is going to be important. And, not just Isobel — she runs the risk of being overly dependent on her. That's not healthy either.

#META / HC: PRIMARY.#torture tw #starvation tw #death tw #imprisonment tw #dismemberment tw #amputation tw #depression tw #anxiety tw #ask to tag #I'm almost certain I'm missing tags #if so I'm sorry and will gladly add it

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dreadgrace-a · 4 months

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Feast days and other observances;

potentially triggering content below. read tags, I am so very serious.

Sacrifices to Bhaal made in his temples were considered to be especially potent if given from the hands of his children. For Lark, this meant the yearly observance of the Feast of the Moon, as well as ceremonies held to commemorate a priest rising in the ranks.

Each year, and when enough notice was available (during her time assigned to Elturel she would be expected to return two tendays prior to the Feast of the Moon; she was never late), Lark would be secured with the use of chains and bars designed to hold her and denied release of her urge to the point of a total loss of control. when possible, the chosen sacrifice would be held nearby enough to witness the transformation.

Upon the start of each ritual, she would then be loosed upon the sacrifice. Her Urge tended toward cannibalizing the body. After coming back to herself she was expected to take part in the remainder of the holiday.

Holy days were not the only times Lark was subjected to this process; it was also utilized as a punishment for severe infractions.

#murder tw #cult tw #violence tw #ritual sacrifice tw #human sacrifice tw #cults tw #death tw #headcanon.#imprisonment tw #cannibalism tw #worldbuilding.

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cryptidwritings · 2 years

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"Let's go Back Inside."

@themerrywhumpofmay Day 17 - Garotte, Forced to Watch, Carried [masterlist]

CW: team whump, chains, restrained, beating, imprisonment, minor character death mention

Leader, Whumpee, and Medic walked along the hallway of Whumper's prison. The chains around their ankles scraping against the tile floor. The matching cuffs around their backs pulled and pushed in succession as they were escorted by two armed guards.

The guard in front pushed a door open, allowing intense light to flood into the prisoner's faces.

Their eyes adjusted, and Leader met the eyes of Whumper who stood in front of a set of four chair-like objects; set up in a U, all trained towards where Whumper was standing with two extra guards.

Whumper smiled, "welcome!" they opened their arms wide, revealing a black baton in their hand, "to your new home!"

They laughed, and Leader grimaced, listening as Whumpee stifled a panicked shriek at the sight.

"Take a seat," Whumper waved them over, and a guard grabbed each team member's arm, pulling them towards the chairs. As they neared, Leader noticed that each chair was fitted with a metal collar, attached to the back.

"This trash heap is what you spent your money on?" Leader scoffed as a guard pushed them down. Whumpee choked on their mounting fear as the collar was wrapped around their neck.

"Oh, you disapprove?" Whumper asked as they walked toward the fourth chair and set their hand upon it, looking at Leader with a wry smile, "I had planned for one more, but, well, you know..."

Leader clenched their fists as the weight of the loss of Mentor reignited.

"You're going to pay for what you've done," Leader promised, backed with calm fury.

"Strong words for someone who's in my prison," Whumper said, leaving the fourth chair and standing in front of Leader. They tilted their head, smiling as Leader's gaze didn't back down and the collar was tightened again.

Whumpee let out a whimper, and Whumper's gaze snapped to them.

Whumper chuckled and walked toward them, tilting their chin up with the baton. Their lip trembled as silent tears began to stain their face.

"It's been so long since I've seen you like this," Whumper practically purred, "I've missed it."

Whumpee closed their eyes.

"Leave them alone," Medic said, their back arching uncomfortably in order to create space with the collar, "there's no reason to torture them again."

Whumper looked at Medic, their eyes falling flat, "You're right," they stated as they turned and addressed one of the standing guards, "bring me Leader."

"W-wait!" Medic interjected, regretful eyes watching as the guard behind Leader undid their collar and unhooked the chain that joined them together.

Whumpee looked on in horror, their whole body shaking, "P-please leave them alone..." they mumbled, trying to find the courage to speak louder than a whisper, but it was caught in their throat.

Leader was pushed in front of Whumper, back facing the other two.

"Kneel," they ordered.

"N...No..." Whumpee begged as the guard kicked out Leader's knees.

"Do your worst," Leader spat, "I'm still going to kill you."

Whumper stared down at Leader, their eyes burning bright with excitement that radiated to a sadistic smile that spread across their face. They pressed their thumb against the black rod, and the tip came to life with electricity.

"Such boldness," they practically laughed, disengaging the electricity before placing the tip on Leader's neck, "rest assured, Leader, I will do my very worst," they pressed the button and Leader screamed as their body seized involuntarily and fell to the floor.

Whumper stopped, watching Leader pant and cough, hearing the rattling chains as Medic pulled against them.

"And every day I'm still alive," Whumper continued over the chains, "I'm going to beat one of you within an inch of their life," they looked at Medic, pointing the baton at them, "you're next."

They lifted the baton high in the air and crashed it down on Leader's side, eliciting another yelp of pain.

"Stop!" Whumpee cried out, "P-please!"

Whumper looked up and smirked as they electrocuted Leader, watching as Whumpee started to struggle, tears still coming down, made worse by seeing their friend's body jerk around unnaturally for what felt like too long.

Leader's breathing continued at an awkward pace, and their eyes fluttered, trying to remain open.

Whumper straightened, looking down at Leader as they fixed their clothing.

"Leave those two here," they said, "bring Leader. Let's go back inside their cell where we can get a little messy," they said the word with an excited flair.

"You bastard!" Medic yelled as the guards picked up Leader's limp body, "put them down!"

Whumpee lowered their gaze to their lap as Medic continued their protest in the now empty room. Their fortress they had built together; with Leader, Medic, and... Mentor... it was crumbling.

It was crumbling.

#the merry whump of may #let's go back inside #team leader whump #team whump #imprisonment tw #tw forced to watch #forced to watch whump #tw chains #minor character death #tw beating #whump scenario #whump blog #whump writing #whump drabble #originalfiction

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callaeidae3 · 2 years

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Day 10: Rules

@summer-of-whump

"I'm sorry about this."

"It's fine."

"It really isn't. I don't think you should even be in here in the first place."

Yuuki has to follow protocol. If he doesn't, he'll get them both in trouble.

(Scene from The Case of Kindall, K.)

#whump art #summer of whump #summer of whump day 10 #restrained #emotional whump #kindall k series #kk1 #the case of kindall k #kyle kindall #yuuki takahashi #imprisonment tw

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beerecordings · 1 year

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Wolf Bite - Part 16

(maybe part 15.5, I might add more to this chapter later)

That little black wolf makes one sorry sight in his little huddle of boxes, that's one thing Henrik can't deny.

He's kind of a friendly-looking wolf, one of the ones that could almost be mistaken as a domestic dog, but even at a smaller size than other werewolves Henrik's seen, he's still too big to be anybody's pet.

"He's locked down here too," remarks Chase at one point.

"He's guarding us," growls back Henrik.

"You said yourself he wasn't going to do anything."

"Not for now."

"There's two of us."

"Yeah, and I've shifted twice in my life, Chase. I'm not exactly fighting fit."

Chase puffs out a breath of air. "Well, this cellar is sealed shut. Maybe we can do that thing in the movies where we hide behind the door and jump out at him, and then both make a break for it."

"The door opens outward."

"Well, something like that, man."

"I think that older one could tear us both to shreds," says Henrik, and then, after a pause, "He already did once."

Chase thumbs at the scar of the wolf bite on his arm and shivers.

The black wolf -- JJ, Anti said -- pushes out of his box, standing on the other side of the room and looking at them. Sitting down against the wall as he is, Henrik is suddenly aware of just how long it would take him to clamber to his feet or get his teeth out. The wolf could be at his throat once again before that. He hears himself growling without even thinking about it, and he puts an arm in front of Chase, gaze narrow.

JJ just sneezes.

"Um, so, would you want to shift back and say hi?" asks Chase, blinking at the wolf. "Or are you some wolf-only idealist?"

JJ cocks his head at him. After a second, his valiant tail starts wagging again, and his nose twitches as he scents the air.

"Don't say hi to him, he bit me!" snaps Henrik.

Chase glances at him aside, frowning. "Yeah... right, you're right. I'm sorry, man, I don't think I checked on how you were doing well enough. Here, let me get a look at it."

"No." Henrik flinches back from him. "Don't touch me."

Chase's face falls, but the guilt Henrik would usually feel over that expression is buried beneath a sudden defensiveness, thrown up in his brain like a cop parked in front of a car crash. No. No hands on him, and especially not near his neck.

He woke up to that. To someone in his doorway, and then a wolf coming at him, pressing him down. To teeth in him. He clutches at his own arms, trying to rub some heat into them. He needs to run so badly it aches.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I can tell tomorrow will be the full moon. Everything feels so... I don't know. Like the human things are losing focus. I thought I would only need to shift the night of the full moon, but already I feel it strongly."

"I don't want to have my full moon here," Chase whispers back. "I was with him, Anti, for the first one, and... it's not just that it hurt, it's that I was so suddenly a wolf. It was almost like I forgot my human life for those days. And Anti was just my pack, undeniably, I couldn't - well, you saw me with that fucking piece of his hoodie. Henrik, I think if we have our full moon here, our instincts - "

"You think we'll be stuck as pack."

"You remember when Marv took us to that coffee bar? And the Alphas were coming over to scent at us and introduce themselves? It was hard enough to resist walking off with one of them, and that wasn't even the full moon. And they weren't willing to fucking abduct us to push us into this either. Maybe that's what this Alpha was waiting for - for the full moon, to come get us again."

"And now they mean to imprint on us."

He does remember the coffee bar. That Alpha, Mohammed, who came so close to him, smelling like such a big, bonded pack - the smell of him had lingered somewhere in Henrik's mind for days. He wondered more than once if he should go find him again. His whole psyche seemed to crave that security offered, that safety and pack family. Even the thought of falling into line for him felt right - and Henrik's not exactly a natural follower.

Will the pull be that strong again? Could it be stronger with the moon so close to full?

He couldn't fight JJ at all once he got his teeth in him. Is he narrowed down to his instincts, his frontal lobe shutting down progressively, and if so, how bad will it get? He's trapped in this basement. He's trapped in this body. Will they bite him again? Force him out to a wild part of Europe or some remote part of the Americas where he can't get home at all? Could he be stuck in his wolf form for the rest of his life?

Do they want him feral?

"Schneep, hey. Hey. You gotta breathe."

Chase's hand comes down on his shoulder. Henrik hears himself snarl, snapping his teeth at Chase as he jerks away from him, hyperventilating, and his friend falls back immediately, ducking his head to show his neck, both of them reduced to instinct in a second. It's already fucking happening.

Then that black wolf steps forward and puts himself right in front of Chase.

Stands in front of him, no longer wagging his tail. Steady on his feet. Eyes clear like stars, piercing, dangerous.

The wolf who bit him, standing in front of his packmate as if Chase is his.

Henrik feels some piece of his control break in half.

He shifts back so fast it burns, without even meaning to, and he throws himself at JJ like a shark, teeth first. He catches a snap of black fur, but JJ's already darting away - and then coming back at him.

"Stop, don't hurt him!" Chase shrieks.

JJ changes trajectory at the words and darts away from Henrik, almost bouncing with the lightness of his step, but there's no longer anything playful about his demeanor. Henrik waits for him to bark at him or howl, but it never comes. He doesn't even growl. Henrik barks instead, once, twice. He wants the wolf away from his pack.

JJ stands by the stairs, now, and Henrik's rational thought is buried under his need to escape the basement. It doesn't matter that the door to upstairs is locked. All that matters is that this wolf is in his way.

He lunges at JJ again, and this time, the wolf collides with him, both of them snapping at each other's shoulders and throats, and Henrik feels teeth tearing at him. Chase yells, pulling off his clothes to shift in the periphery, but Henrik doesn't care. He thinks from the warmth along his side that the smaller wolf has scratched him, but there's no pain with this much adrenaline running through him. He bites and catches flesh; blood pools inside his mouth. JJ doesn't even yelp. He's gone a second later, whipping away so fast Henrik can't follow him, and then the little wolf comes back with a vengeance, leaping at his throat; Henrik turns to catch him with his teeth, if he can.

There's a loud thudding noise, and Henrik doesn't have the focus to recognize it as the sound of the door to upstairs slamming before there are fresh teeth around his neck, and a growl in his ear so loud it stills him instantly, panic overriding all else.

"JJ!" he hears Anti howl, rushing to the black wolf - but if Anti's still human, then the wolf with its teeth around his throat must be...

Henrik's eyes roll to stare at the edges of grey fur, and a sharp, chemical scent, mixed up with caramel and electricity in a way that should be nice, maybe, but ends up bitter and... burned, somehow. It doesn't change the fact that it's the smell of an Alpha: intoxicating.

"He just lost control, he just panicked!" Chase is insisting, frantic a few feet behind him, stripped of his shirt and shivering hard. "Don't hurt him, don't hurt us, we're just scared, please, please."

"He bit my brother!" Anti shouts back.

"Maybe your brother shouldn't have put his teeth around Henrik to begin with! Maybe you should have all left us alone!"

"It's okay, JJ, I'm here, I'll take care of it..."

The Alpha starts pulling at his scruff. Henrik barks, calling for he doesn't know what, but he can't resist. He's dragged up the stairs. Chase yells and tries to follow, but snarls from both the Alpha and the Second freeze him in his place, and he stares at Henrik with huge, watery eyes.

He's yanked back onto the main floor. The door to the outside world is right in front of him as he leaves the stairs behind, but it doesn't matter, because he can't fucking move, not with these teeth in his neck, not with this smell in his nose, not with the lure of the moon in his chest.

The Alpha deposits him in a side room and closes the door behind them.

Henrik lays panting. There's blood running down him. He thinks that little wolf got him better than he thought he had, and the Alpha wasn't anything close to gentle. His neck's been pierced, now.

He smells the Alpha's shift more than sees it. The smell of wolf fading into the smell of skin. He's scared to look.

"Change back," comes her voice.

A woman. He hasn't been around female werewolves, or maybe he has and just didn't notice. He had thought their smells would be different, but they aren't. She's just chemical and springwater, wafted over in caramel and electricity. The combination clashes. He doesn't suppose smell should matter when picking a pack, but something about this scent just makes him feel wrong. Like it's not meant to be.

Just another reason he doesn't want to be a part of it.

He hears her pulling clothes on across the room. She approaches and grabs him by the scruff again, and he whines as his fresh wounds pull and bleed, following her grip until he's on his feet again.

"I said change back," she tells him, and the command moves like a wave over him; he shudders. "I'll speak to you as a man at least once before we go away."

He doesn't even like to be naked in front of other males. He tries to hide against the wall, but she won't release him.

How can she have been so big as a wolf, and so small as a woman? She must be about his age, he thinks, or a little younger. She has lots of dark, unbrushed hair and deep eyes, almost black, but she's pallid and thin, not to mention plain. She's yanked on a white sweatshirt and a pair of jeans that smell like Anti.

Beyond her, though, this room... this is full-blown, professional surveillance. A row of screens shove each other for space on a cheap table against the side of the room, red lights blinking on their screens, and all of them are showing different views across town. A camera lies abandoned on the floor, but its red eye is watching him too.

She didn't just look his name up online, didn't just read his research papers. This is high-tech stalking, illegal camera installation included. He's been watched for weeks now, he's sure of it - especially since, on the screen farthest to the right, he has a perfect view of the outside of Sean's office.

She throws a blanket at him while he's still trying to process his own shock, and now, louder and more firmly than ever, she tells him: "change."

He shifts back with effort. It hasn't been so painful before. He didn't know it could be so painful.

"There you go," she says, voice evening out instantly. She walks with all the command of an Alpha, speaks with all the authority. Henrik backs away from her, pulling the blanket over him, finding another pair of sweatpants with his hand as he moves. Sean's apartment was the same: werewolves leave clothes everywhere. He thinks he'd be grateful if he wasn't so shell-shocked.

"Who are you?" The words feel faint in his mouth. "Why did you pick us?"

She steps towards him no matter how much he backs up. "Are you scared of me?"

His back meets the wall.

"You can tell me you are," she assures him. "You know, I can always tell when someone's lying. Try to be truthful."

He breathes hard, keeping his mouth shut tight. He doesn't know what will happen if he tries to speak. Maybe he'll cry, or scream, or bite, or whine. He can't tell anymore. This is barely his body.

"Stay with me, brother," she tells him, and it makes him think of Sean, always calling other werewolves brother, but she isn't him, she doesn't have his warmth or his reassurance, and she sure isn't family.

"I am not your brother," he manages.

"You will be," she tells him, with certainty. "You're going to come away with me. You'll be good after the full moon, I'm sure. But you can't be snapping at my little one in the meantime. You'll drive Anti to fury, and he's already driving me up the wall as it is. You all ought to learn a little respect."

"You can't just keep us here. But then, there's no point in asking you to see reason, is there?" He bares his teeth.

Her hand comes down and strikes him a half-second later, and his head slams back against the wall. He yelps, his tongue blooming with blood where he bit it, and he knows his cheek will swell.

"Don't show your teeth to me," she says. "I'm your Alpha."

"You're nothing to me," he chokes out. "You didn't even bite me."

"Anti's mine. He did it on my orders."

"Why did you pick us?" he repeats, louder.

Her hand comes towards him again, and he flinches hard. This time, however, she touches his face gently, a rumble leaving her throat.

"You look so much like my Ant," she says, petting his beard for a moment. "Both of you."

"Is that why?" Henrik laughs humorlessly. "You must be joking. No, you're really just this - "

At the look in her eye, he bites down on the insult about to escape him.

"I needed a doctor," she answers finally. "We'll be as self-sustaining as possible. I don't expect it to be easy. There will be injuries."

"Maybe you should have gotten a vet, if you wanted a werewolf doctor."

"You'll learn. You're clever. And you have no one, anyway. You're all alone."

"That doesn't mean I want you."

He gets hit again, then, harder than the first time. It shakes the air from his lungs. He puts his head down on instinct, a cry leaving his mouth, and extends his neck to her.

"I waited for you for weeks," she says, like she hasn't done anything. "You took so long to shift at all. Anti lost Chase, that was his fucking fault. But then they sent him to Jack McLoughlin, and I knew they'd do the same for you. Everybody knows he's the only rehab in the city. And look - you learned, and you bonded with Chase, just like you were meant to. Perfect. I always know. I see everything."

"Leave me alone," he whispers.

"We'll go to the forest in Alsace-Lorraine. You speak German, and I understand French, so if we are forced to talk to humans, we'll be fine. But mostly, we'll live as wolves. Then no one will bother us again the way humans do, jeering at us, attacking us, jailing us, murdering us. We'll all be pack, living the way wolves are meant to instead of pretending to be domesticated. I'm not trying to hurt you, Henrik. I'm trying to keep you safe from the real enemy."

"I don't want to go."

"You will tomorrow with the full moon. But in the meantime, you won't snap at my JJ. You didn't establish deference, that's why you two went at each other. When you go downstairs, you'll submit to him, and that will be that. Hm, well. Maybe he'll submit to you. I haven't decided. Get your act together and you could be high-ranking, Henrik. I know you're smarter than this."

She gets up and kicks a rickety chair towards him, seating herself in another, by the screens. The red lights blink all around her on dark screens, staring at him endlessly. His eyes flicker to the door, but he can't get out. She won't let him. He's lost all control.

"Now," she says, picking up the camera on the floor, "before you shift back, maybe for good - I need to know some things about you, to predict and manage your future needs and behaviors over the courses of our lives."

She grabs a clipboard off the table, knocking over a little orange bottle as she does. Henrik blinks as it rolls towards him, bringing its smell with it. Chemicals. Ones he thinks he might recognize. That's what that smell is. It's not natural to her.

"There's a couple things I need to know that I can't get from observation," she says. "Remember, I'll know if you're lying."

She clicks her pen. He smells the ink, welling up like blood. His neck is dripping. He feels faint.

"Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?"

Henrik pulls that blanket as close around him as he can.

#imprisonment tw #loss of control tw #controlling behavior tw #werewolf au

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merrock · 5 months

Text

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: jacob elordi

full name: ethan shephard

nickname(s) / goes by: ethan

pronouns & gender: he/him & cis man

sexuality: straight

birth date: november 10, 1995

birth place: merrock, maine

arrival to merrock: local, but he served three years in prison from the age of 24. he was released on parole in 2022.

housing: shares an apartment with his half-sister in historical downtown

occupation: cook

work place: touchback

family: helen (mother - whereabouts unknown), william (father), mia (younger half-sister - the product of a short-lived romance between william and a woman who works down by the marina)

relationship status: single

PERSONALITY

+ assertive, resourceful, confident, independent - selfish, dishonest, reckless, pigheaded

ethan is the kind of person your parents warned you not to be friends with; the type of guy who tells you his ex is bat-shit crazy when he’s the one who drove her insane. with questionable morals and few redeeming qualities to make up for it, he rarely does anything for anyone unless it benefits him directly.

WRITTEN BY: AJ (she/her), gmt+1.

BACKGROUND / BIO

sensitive / triggering content: neglect, alcoholism, violence, drugs, imprisonment

born in merrock to william and helen, ethan's life has always stood in stark contrast to the idyllic nature of his hometown. from a young age, he learned that the world didn’t owe him anything regardless of the hardships he faced - and they were plenty. neither william nor helen had wanted kids at the time, but helen was too far along for an abortion when they learned that she was pregnant. from the moment ethan entered the world, helen made it clear that his presence was unwanted. she shouldered the role of unwilling mother for the next five years until she finally skipped town, only leaving a hastily scribbled note saying that she couldn’t do “this” anymore. from then on, it was just ethan and his dad, who had his own set of demons to contend with. his long-standing habit of seeking comfort in the bottom of a glass eventually cost him his job and by then, he was already known around town as a drunk.

ethan's own reputation was far from spotless; his teenage years were filled with run-ins with the law and various stints in juvie for petty theft and assault. written off as a lost cause by most of his teachers, he coasted through school doing just enough to pass, and nothing else. it was only a matter of time before he realized he could make a quick buck by dealing drugs on behalf of someone higher up in the trade. what started out as an easy way to make money on the side eventually turned into a career he had no thoughts of giving up on - until he was caught. a routine traffic stop ended with ethan being arrested for gun and drug possession, landing him a 5-year sentence in state prison.

his time behind bars was tougher than he’d care to admit, far different from what he knew from juvie. sharing a space with other felons was no joke, but working in the kitchen usually kept him out of trouble. having served 3 years of his sentence, he was granted parole on a set of conditions including community service and random drug tests. upon returning home to merrock, ethan, now aged 27, moved out of his childhood home and into his own apartment downtown. he cut ties with everyone he knew in the drug business and managed to land a job as a cook at the local sports bar. despite his efforts to put the past behind him, every so often he still finds himself struggling between doing what’s easy and what’s right.

#merrockbio #ethanshephard #neglect tw #alcoholism tw #drugs tw #jail tw #imprisonment tw #violence tw

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