#isolated whumpee

[jordanstrophe]

Whumper cracked open the cell as the light revealed their captive on their knees. Their hands were bound behind their back and a chain bolted to the wall wrapped around their arms and chest.

The chain was nearly off, not enough they could get free but enough they clearly struggled for a long time. 

"Almost got it off, huh?" Whumper smirked, standing over them as whumpee looked up with an exhausted expression.

"No worries. I'll tighten it for next time..."

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump scenarios #captive whump #kidnapped whumpee #restrained whump #cruel whumper #failed escape attempt #controlling whumper #whump angst #isolation whump

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee had been forced into isolation by the whumper- only knowing that days would go by because of the fact that the whumper gave them food once a day. They had stopped believing that anyone would ever help them, and they were slowly starting to believe that the whumper would one day just leave them to die alone.

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee #aramis stabs someone #whump prompts #whumper #I’m so tired man but at least I’ve got an endlessly spinning gif of a low poly cat in my brain #isolation whump #captivity whump

[epiclamer]

a hero who is incredibly affectionate with villain after being isolated for a long time? and yes i mean affectionate an uh... that way. bonus points if villain rescued hero and/or is staying with them.

heheheeeee

Personal Affection

The villain dreadfully wished they could pull their hands to their face, just some sort of barrier between their blush and the hero’s keen eyes. Yet, the hero seemed to have other plans, as they held on tightly.

“You seem awfully… intrigued, hm?” The crime-stopper mumbled, waist straddled against the villain’s as they spoke.

All in all, the villain was in a terrible position. Body splayed out on the plush sofa, Hero’s hips pinning their own, their hands encased in the other’s, head thrown slightly back against the couch arm to reveal their blushing neck. It was humiliating and all they had done was a good deed.

Hero raised an eyebrow as they studied their nemesis. “Am I mistaken?”

The shake of the villain’s head was almost imperceptible to the untrained eye.

But it led the hero to a smile. “Didn't think so.”

“H-Hero, it’s hardly even been an hour since I retouched t-those bandages—”

Villains attempt at a change in conversation was quickly silenced as Hero pushed their lips together. Not in a kiss, simply in a warning touch.

Something to remind the villain just exactly who was in charge.

“Only an hour for you, love. Centuries for me.” And the hero couldn’t hold themselves back any longer, finally kissing their enemy passionately.

They didn’t hold back even by an inch. They needed this. They needed touch. They needed love. They needed Villain.

After three years of captivity in Supervillains torture chamber; after three years of receiving food and water through a hole in the wall and three years of complete and utter solitude. They needed every last bit of affection they could get.

It would be taken away sooner than later and the hero couldn’t afford to lose it.

They had thought about their family, their team, their friends, but most of all, Villain. They had thought about Villain every second. Villain and their stupidly adorable blush.

Their petty crimes were no bother to the hero—it was just to get their attention anyways—and after so long away and alone, Villain was the one thing they needed.

“Don’t send me back.” Hero whispered into their kiss, sloppy and heated as it was, Hero’s voice cut delicately through it all. “Just you and me. Keep me here. Or take me away, but don’t send me back.”

Maybe it was the overwhelmingness of seeing and feeling the outside world again after so long. Maybe it was the gentle hands that cared for their wounds. Maybe it was the fire that burned between the two. Or maybe it was everything.

Everything, that made the hero cry. Their breath heaving in heavy sobs as they continued on in the kiss. Their tongues now salty with tears as Villain tried to pull away to help, but Hero held them still.

They would let all the emotions, all the cameras, all the resetting and the relearning come tomorrow. Everything would wash over them in waves, but they could make it with Villain at their side.

“I’m not going to send you back, Hero.” Villains voice cut through the silence and it was so refreshing to hear.

It wasn’t in their head anymore.

One cautious hand ran through the hero’s hair, scraping against their scalp in the way that sent shivers down their spine. The crime-stopper’s only reminder that they had long forgotten their previous hold against their love.

Villains other hand found its way to Hero’s waist as they rubbed gentle circles into their hip. “But it’s been a long time, sweetie. And we need to get you back on your feet before anything else.” The strength in the villain’s tone of voice was like honey and so so so counselling to the scared hero.

They figured they could wait one more night to devour the criminal and let themselves be cared for just once more.

#Woooo #sorry for the late posttttt #My bad #hero x villain #villain #villain x hero #hero #drabbles #fantasy #imagines #scenarios #hero and villain #villain and hero #hero whumpee #isolation #whump #whumpee #whumper #Caretaker #villain caretaker #supervillain whumper #heroes #villains #villains x heroes #heroes x villains #villains and heroes #heroes and villains

[abhainnwhump]

Whumpee is locked in an empty dark room with a metronome. It ticks back and forth at a steady pace, 24/7. It never stops. Whumpee has no idea what time it is, how long they've been there, or even when they are fed. They can't even find the source of that metronome, it's like it changes places. Soon enough, they start going mad.

Another metronome prompt:

Whumper uses a metronome to hypnotize Whumpee and make them repeat every cruel, messed up word they say. The ticking never leaves Whumpee's mind.

#if you don't know ehat a metronome is #its a tool muscians (namely piano players) use to stick to the BPM #I think #I have minimal musical knowledge and zero musical talent whatsoever #whump #whump prompt #whump writing #whumpblr #whump tropes #hypnosis whump #hypnotized whumpee #sensory torture #sensory deprivation #isolation #captured whumpee #conditioned whumpee #conditioning whump #metronome

[a-wumper-on-the-internet]

isolation is not used enough as whump.

i love my whumpers (why do you think I have so many of them as ocs compared to whumpees), but sometimes the whumper doesn't need to be there. Sometimes you leave your guy stuck, alone, forever. And then just see what happens.

Drifting in the emptiness of space? free to roam but unable to talk to people or interact with the world in any capacity? just a plain, fully furnished, completely uneventful room, but with no door? Incredible. showstopping. flawless.

like, we all love starvation and dehydration and torture via the elements or weather or nature, but I think we all are sleeping on boredom. boredom is a slow, patient killer, that'll tear apart your mind, bit by unstable bit.

boredom is what pushes a whumpee to be a whumper. it's been so long without stimulus - you might turn to... alternative methods. because if you make them scream, it might just remind you that you still exist.

#whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #whumpee #yeah this is loosely based on beetlejuice the musical what of it #isolation #solitary confinement

[shywhumpauthor]

Didn’t Mind It

Cw: isolation, starvation, restraints, dehydration, vague implications of drugging

Whumpee didn’t actually mind the first few days alone.

The first eighty-something hours were quiet. Still. Not necessarily peaceful, but almost serene, in the same sense one might strike as they are faced with an inescapable death. The foreboding of tranquility during the fall as the ground rushes closer.

Eventually the gnarling twists of hunger in their gut turned to soft, occasional aches. The throbbing behind their eyes eased into a slow pulse. There was a point where they became so used to the dryness in their throat, the metallic taste that coated their tongue like sandpaper where they stopped noticing it. At some time they had gotten so used to the cold, the damp air that they stopped shivering. Grown used to the heavy weights of cuffs shackles around each wrist, ankle, they were almost able to lift their arms.

They’d gotten used to it. To the quiet so thick the only thing they could hear was the occasional creak of a pipe in the ceiling above, the frigid air that leaked slowly from the vent in the corner, the sound of their own thoughts spiraling until eventually falling silent. They had never heard the quiet so loud. It pressed against them, a weight draped around their entire body, once that once had made their skin crawl in its confining suffocation, but now was almost comforting. In a sense.

For a while they’d begged to be let out. Maybe the first hour or two. They had longed for freedom for the first day, tugged at the shackles until their wrists were raw and bleeding. Then they had settled down, soothed into a stupor of silence by the low whispers of the vent and the faint hints of sweetness in the air. It made their thoughts heavy, lulling them until they slipped away.

They didn’t mind it so much anymore.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whump challenge #ailess whumptober #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday3 #ai less whumptober #ailess whumptober day 3 #isolation #solitary confinement #implied drugging #whump scene #whumptober

[honeycollectswhump]

Can we get any insight into Ashtray's conditioning/training, or maybe Mistress trying many different types of cigarettes to compare the taste (and how they burn him differently)? He's my new favorite little guy :)

congrats, you unlocked some lore! i hope you enjoy the little hints about who ashtray used to be :)

A Step Towards Ashtray

[masterlist]

CW: isolation, captivity, emotional distress, cigarette burn, implied pet whump

Behind the heavy, metal door there is a young man, though legally that description would be wrong. Behind the door, there is a future companion object, handpicked to satisfy his potential buyers in any way possible. But then again, right now he is barely at the start of his journey to becoming a perfect companion object, so Eskil Thorn just calls him a trainee, his trainee. 

It had been quite the odyssey over the past two weeks or so, watching the trainee scream and claw at the door, sobbing a certain name. Of course, that did nothing to help him. Eskil knows the recipe to the perfect start is letting the trainees simmer in isolation for a bit before introducing them to their future purpose. Now that the screaming has finally stopped, maybe from exhaustion or his voice giving out, it’s a sign for Eskil to start the process.

Stepping inside, he takes in the sight before him. The trainee is curled on the floor –like a feral dog– staring at him with red-rimmed but beautifully big blue eyes. Bits of ripped-out hair lay around him and Eskil makes a mental note to nip that behaviour in the bud. His golden-blond hair is one of the trainee's assets, which will eventually put him in a high price range and Eskil can’t let him ruin that.

“Are you ready for your lesson?”

The trainee nods frantically.

“Please, sir, anything! I– I can’t– please!” he rasps, inching forward to Eskil. 

If he were any other designation, Eskil would love the begging. It’s always a sweet surprise when the trainees exhibit these behaviours early on. Unfortunately however, that won’t be a necessary skill for him, though it is undeniably a promising start.

With shaking hands, the trainee grasps onto Eskil’s pants, his eyes shining with tears. “Don’t leave me alone, sir, please!”

Perfect.

“Sure, I’ll stay with you for a while. But you have to do something for me first.”

See, where the other handlers try to force it, Eskil lets his trainees take their first steps on their own. And to get them motivated, isolation works wonders. 

The trainee is basically vibrating with desperation. It’s not his first lesson. He doesn’t beg to be let out anymore, not since they shocked his signature out of him, and he’s given up on insisting on “his name”. Instead, it is a sort of resigned despair that makes him perfectly malleable.  

“Wh-what do you want me to do?”

With a smile, Eskil pulls out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket. Something warm prickles in his chest as he looks at the lighter, a gift from his wife, decorated with small doodles. Slowly, he lights the cigarette and takes a single drag, watching smoke fill the room. 

He sits down, his legs crossed, and lets himself be warily watched by the trainee. They stay like that in silence, Eskil sitting patiently, the trainee kneeling on all fours before him like a dog, seemingly undecided between wanting to lean away in suspicion and throwing himself in Eskil’s lap. 

Then, he holds out the burning cigarette, inching it closer to the trainee, who just blinks uncomprehendingly. Maybe his future purpose is still beyond his understanding, Eskil supposes. 

“Come on, give me your arm, will you.” 

The trainee flinches and gawks at him with those big blue eyes, his lip twitching as he suppresses a cough. 

“Why?” he whispers, his eyes fixating on the cigarette. Still, he doesn’t move away from Eskil’s vicinity.

“Oh,” Eskil chuckles, “I think you know exactly what for. Now, don’t you want to be a good boy? It’ll be worth it, it’ll all be worth it in the end, I promise.”

Eskil just watches the trainee’s shocked expression morph between conflicting emotions. The promised touch is like a drug in his starved and isolated state. Until eventually, the trainee nods, defeated. He holds out his arm as if he could choose.

Deliberately, Eskil moves the cigarette bud closer and closer to his shoulder. The trainee only tenses up, flinching away from the heat, but makes no move to flee. 

The cigarette makes contact with his skin and he lets out a strangled yelp, eyes flitting to Eskil’s face, as if trying to figure out if this noise would be enough to make Eskil leave. 

Ash spreads over the trainee’s pale skin. There is barely a mark beneath it yet, but it will come in time—his first burn blister of hopefully many. 

Satisfied, Eskil flicks the extinguished cigarette to the side and opens his arms. After a breath of hesitation Eskil pretends not to notice, the trainee flings himself into his embrace, his chest hitching with silent sobs. 

He claws into Eskil’s shirt with a feral need that goes beyond the two weeks of isolation, beyond the acclimation period after the walk-in. Maybe he sees something in him, some sort of figure he lost and whose comfort he secretly grieved. It is all out in the open now, the trainee’s soul ripped fresh open for the world to see. A brief burst of vulnerability, soon to be replaced by perfect obedience. 

Suddenly, hesitantly, the trainee raises his head from Eskil’s shoulder, catching his gaze with immense sorrow.

“Sir? What… what will happen to my little brother? N-now that he’s all alone and he’s never been alone, I’ve always been there for him and he’s–”

Eskil shushes him softly, laying one hand on the back of the trainee’s head.

“There’s no my for you anymore, never forget that. But I’m sure he’ll manage.”

taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0, @toyybox, @clickerflight let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

#so sorry but his little brother didn't manage #not at all in fact #catch polly and me sobbing about that in the dms #The Ashtray #ashtray/skye (oc) #eskil thorn (oc) #(in case that guy will make a reappearance. he's ashtray's main handler) #whumper and whumpee #whumper pov #implied pet whump #conditioning #touch starved whumpee #isolation whump #captivity whump #cigarette burns #conditioning whump #human ashtray #ashtray whump #implied kidnapping #if you find any mistakes no you didn't #asks #anon

[echoingalaxies]

Whump drabbles, 8/100: hidden.

Whumpee had been alone for centuries.

That’s what you get for being immortal at the end of the world – that’s what Whumpee assumed had happened. It was hard to tell, being locked away in an underground cell. Whumper had sealed the door shut before everything ended. There was only a small, barred window near the ceiling, too high for Whumpee to reach. Gods know he’d tried.

The birds were his only friends, and the only life he’d witnessed in several lifespans, blessing him with their melodies.

Whumpee often sang along, desperate to someday hear another human voice join the choir.

#100x100 whump drabbles #whump drabble #whump drabbles #whump #immortal whumpee #isolation whump #captivity whump #post apocalypse #whump scenario #whump trope #whump prompts #whump writing

[mintflavouredwhump]

Thinking about a living weapon whumpee who has only known chaos and fear throughout their life, either from their victims or themselves when faced with their boss(es).

They've been physically, mentally and emotionally isolated from the rest of society and as much as they try to cover it all up with apathy, they can't help but want some comfort, someone to hold them and care for them.

#touch starved #touch starvation #living weapon #touch starvation whump #living weapon whumpee #living weapon whump #whump #tw isolation #cw isolation #tw whump #whump prompts #whump scenario #whump inspiration #indu whumps

[hurtthemgently]

Whumpee sitting alone in their cell, curled up and sobbing quietly

Or

Whumpee sitting alone in their cell, resigned, staring at the wall blankly

#whump or whump #whump prompts #whump prompt #broken whumpee #isolation whump #whump tropes #whump trope

[whumppmuhw]

Whumptober Day 29: Bargaining

tw: master and servant, isolation, electric collar, controlling whumper, conditioned whumpee

"Sir, I hate it here."

"I don't see why. You have everything you need, and I don't have to punish you if you do well, which has been happening lately."

"I want to go outside, and connect with other people, and have a hobby, or something to pass the time. I've done so much for you that your demands no longer take up the whole day." Whumpee wanted much more than that, but they knew they couldn't have it all. So, they started small.

"Well, I don't see myself bringing in other servants - like you said, you're comfortably on top of the work pile. Going outside might be feasible, but it'd be hard to keep an eye on you. And as for a hobby, that would be fine as long as you would drop it as soon as I asked you to do something. What do you think?"

Whumpee's heart sank when they realized Whumper would continue to keep them isolated, but maybe they could work something out with the other two requests. "I could try to do yard work, and stay within the yard."

"Hmm, alright. Though I'd have to find a way to keep you on the property - how do you feel about an electric collar?"

"Ummm-"

"I say let's do it. That way we'll both be happy, right, Whumpee?"

"...Yes, sir."

"Good."

"About the hobby - may I take up painting? I used to do it all the time before...before I came here."

"I don't think so, that's a lot of materials I would have to get, and it would take up a lot of space. How about something else?"

"Reading? You have a large library, and I'm sure you're not reading all of those books all the time."

"Sure, but you'll have to get a book approved by me before you read it."

"Okay, sir."

"Is that good enough for you, Whumpee? I know you want to change things up, but you should be grateful for what you have already."

"I know, sir, and I am. Even without my requests, things are a lot better now than when I first came here."

"Good to hear. If you ever are ungrateful, Whumpee, I would hate to take away your privileges to teach you a lesson."

"Of course, sir. I promise I won't be ungrateful."

"What do you say for fulfilling your requests?"

"Thank you, sir, for letting me do the yard work and read."

"Do you really hate it here, Whumpee?"

"I...no. I don't, sir."

"Less hesitation next time, alright?"

"..."

"Whumpee?"

"Okay, sir."

"Good. After I buy and set up your collar, let's take a look at the yard."

#mine #ailesswhumptober2023 #whumptober #whump #bargaining #master and servant #isolation tw #electric collar #controlling whumper #conditioned whumpee

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee: “I was a captive. I was locked in a basement for weeks, isolated, starved, mistreated.”

Caretaker: “You say that like it’s not as bad as me making you get out of the house, walk, talk and hydrate.”

Whumpee: “It’s positively dreadful.”

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #caretaking #whump dialog #whumpee dialog #caretaker dialog #caretaking dialog #whump prompt #caretaker prompt #whump scenario #recovery whump #recovery prompt #tw starved #tw malnourished #isolation whump #whump humor

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee couldn’t tell how long they’d been in their cell for, there were no windows and nobody would interact with them. All they knew was the food that would be there every time they woke up, it was the only thing that even let them know that time was passing by.

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee #aramis stabs someone #whump prompts #whumper #isolation

[whumpy-daydreams]

Feeling pain is better than feeling nothing

Writing Masterlist

Living weapons shouldn't feel emotions, 327 knows that. But they hate the emptiness, even if feeling something means consequences

CW: self harm, manhandled, dehumanisation, bad mental health care, suicidal thoughts, living weapon, restrained

327 stared at the blood. It wasn't deep, they weren't stupid - just a thin line, no more than scratch. Slowly they drew the knife across their arm.

The sharp sting felt good, like a breath of fresh air clearing the foggy static in their brain. Proof that they were alive, that they could feel something other than the nothingness. Someone thumping on the door startled them.

They pulled down their sleeve quickly, thankful that the black fabric wouldn't show the red seeping through, and chucked the knife under the covers just as two guards walked in.

327 stood at attention, back straight, eyes forward. They noticed their superior was there two, just behind the guards, and they fought the urge to clench their jaw.

"Your arm." 327 put out their right arm and their superior yanked up their sleeve. "The other arm."

A moment of hesitation and their supervisor grabbed it anyway, pulling up the sleeve. They sighed as they saw the wounds.

"I thought we'd put a stop to this, 327." They let go and stepped back. "Take them to isolation, I'll inform the psychologist."

"No, please, it won't happen again, I swear-" A harsh look from their supervisor silenced 327 as the guards grabbed their arms. It was an effort not to fight back as they were half dragged from their room, down towards the isolation cell.

The room was white, almost empty except for the hard bed in the centre, with padded metal cuffs to keep them down. 327 let them close around their wrists and ankles - fighting back would only get them sedated.

Weapons don't cry. It was like a mantra, and one they kept repeating, even though their breaths were still shaky and tears half-filled their eyes. At least they didn't have to wait long for the psychologist.

"I'd hoped I wouldn't have to see you in here again, 327." The psychologist said, standing over them.

"I won't do it again."

"I wish I could believe you, but you've said that before. I've spoken to your supervisor and we've agreed that you need to be in isolation for a little while."

"No, please-"

"While I'm not your supervisor, I am still your superior." 327 shut their mouth. "While you're in isolation, you'll have a session with me everyday. At the moment it's planned to be a week, and then you can start to regain some privileges - but only if there are no incidents." The psychologist sighed. "Every time you do this you don't only hurt yourself, you hurt your team. Do you want to hurt your team?"

"No, sir."

"Good. I will also add that if you can't stay stable you will be cut from the program."

327 almost started to plead again as the psychologist left, the door closing behind them and sealing the room in silence. They knew exactly what they meant when they said 'cut from the program'. 327 found they didn't care. They weren't stable, and there was no place for defective weapons.

#mortiawrites #whump #living weapon whumpee #tw self harm #tw sh #tw suidical ideation #manhandling #isolation

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #9: Alone - part 1

previous | masterlist | next

content: lab whump, captivity, nightmare (italicized), parent death mention, isolation, fear of abandonment and death, sensory deprivation, starvation, emotional whump, claustrophobia, escape attempt, needle mention, winged whumpee

sorry this took so long i’ve been busy irl but hopefully i’ll be back posting weekly chapters soon. also today is Dew’s birthday!! i’m gonna draw something but i might post that a bit late but happy birthday Dew!! silly guy

—

Dew woke up sprawled out among his pile of blankets on his bed. He yawned and sat up, stretching out his wings with a sigh of contentment. He sleepily rubbed his eyes and flopped back on the bed. That was the best sleep he’s had since…

Wait.

Dew’s eyes shot open, remembering last night and the days before. But when he expected to see the scientist standing over him with needles and knives, he saw nothing. Literally nothing. Dew sat up in bed, still groggy from his rest, and looked around. His eyes were open, and they were working— looking out the window, he could see the faint red glow of a few digital clocks and other machines— but the light was off. All of the lights were off, and the scientist was nowhere to be seen.

This had never happened before. Anton had always arrived super early in the mornings to check on his favorite little lab rat. Even if he wasn’t in his room waiting for Dew to wake up, he was still working in the lab on other things Dew couldn’t comprehend. The lights were always on, usually dimmed in the mornings before the experiments began, but the only time the lights were all completely off was at night. But it wasn’t night.

Dew looked out at the glowing digital clock: 8:12AM. Anton always woke Dew up at 7. He was late.

Whatever was going on this morning, Dew was too tired to do anything about it. He flopped down into bed and snuggled under the covers. He’d take advantage of this strange start to a day. A bit of extra comfort now would make up for hours of painful experimentation that would surely happen later. Dew closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

. . .

Dew woke up. He was sleeping in a bed, but the blankets were fluffier, and green and brown… not white like the ones on his bed in the lab. He sat up, bumping his head against the… ceiling? Where was he?

Dew opened his eyes. His gaze fell to his old minecraft themed bedspread he had as a kid. On the walls were posters for his and his roommates favorite shows and bands and video games. The light was off, but the sun was shining through the windows, and he basked in the warmth on his skin. He was home.

But how? Dew spread his wings and glided off of the top bunk, feeling the soft carpet under his feet. He took a look around. Everything was almost the same as he left it, but his friends were nowhere to be seen, and neither was their cat Sir Bonkles. But that didn’t matter right now. Dew could cry. He was back.

Dew ran though his old house– no, his home. Anton’s lab wasn’t his home and it never would be. He ran to the living room and saw Layla sitting on the couch with Sir Bonkles purring in her lap. Mars’s enclosure sat on a table against the wall, the ball python curled up inside. Dew caught the smell of something cooking, and looked in the kitchen to see Hayden and Sawyer painstakingly trying to make breakfast for everyone. Wait, Sawyer was here?

“Hey,” Dew said.

“Oh, hey Dewdrop!” Layla exclaimed, pausing her show.

“Where’ve you been?” Hayden asked. “We missed you.”

“I… I um, I was…” Dew’s mind flashed with memories he’d rather forget. Memories of fear and pain, of being kept in a room, trapped in a lab, memories of failed escape attempts and needles. So, so many needles. Memories of his captor taunting him about how nobody was coming to rescue him. Dew tried blinking away the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, but they fell anyway. “Weren’t you looking for me?”

“Of course we were!” Sawyer said. “I didn’t stop looking. I’m happy you’re back, Dewey.”

“W-wait, how’d I get h–”

“Oh!” Layla exclaimed, looking out the window. “Scooby Dew, your parents are here!”

Dew’s heart skipped a beat. All his strange excitement for being back immediately vanished and was replaced with a sense of dread oozing through his body. This wasn’t right. “W-what…?”

The door opened, and Dew’s mom and dad walked in, holding bundles of balloons. They looked just like Dew remembered them… not from the funeral, but back when they were alive. They looked happy. They were smiling. They were alive.

Oh. It was a dream.

This was all just a dream.

“Everyone’s so happy you’re back, Dew!” Hayden said, bringing Dew a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. “We have to celebrate, you’ve been gone such a long time.”

Of course it was a dream.

“Yeah, we have a whole season of our show to catch up on!” Layla exclaimed, patting the spot next to her on the couch. Dew sat down. “And I’ve gotta show the progress I’ve made on the game we’ve been working on. I can only code so much, you’re the writer Dew, you gotta help us!”

Of course he wasn’t actually out.

“Oh! Dew,” Hayden said. “That new video game you’ve been waiting for was released! You missed it, we were gonna play it together, remember?”

“Hey Dew,” Sawyer said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I wanted to say I forgive you for what you said to me a few months ago. I know we haven’t talked, but I would still like to be your friend.”

No. He wouldn’t say that!

“Stop!” Dew exclaimed, jumping from the couch and flaring his wings out. Everybody stopped and stared. It was eerily silent.

“Th-this isn’t real! This is just a dream! It’s just a fucking dream!”

He heard his parents talking. He couldn’t understand what they were saying to him, their words were jumbled and their voices didn’t sound quite right. Dew tried to look away, tried to squeeze his eyes shut but he couldn’t help but glance up at them. From a distance they looked familiar. A distant memory, nostalgic, a blurry photograph taken from far away. But up close they were blank, their faces jumbled and unrecognizable. Dew rarely made eye contact with people, he always had trouble remembering faces and after his parents died, he avoided looking at photos of them because it was too painful. A constant reminder of what he would never see again. That was five years ago. They only haunted his dreams now.

“N-no… you’re not real. J-Just leave me alone!”

Everybody disappeared. The room was empty, and Dew was alone again.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” Dew cried. He opened the front door and looked at the sky. It was weird. Not a normal sky. But he didn’t care.

Dew took off. He flew through the air at a speed that felt faster than light itself. He felt the wind blowing through his feathers and a flock of birds surrounding them as if he was one of their own. The trees were tall, never ending as they stretched up into the sky with him. But he eventually flew higher than those too.

But it wasn’t real. Dew wasn’t flying through the sky and clouds and air like he’d always wanted, he was having a dream in Anton’s lab. And he knew this.

But he didn’t care. He flew and flew and planned to fly forever, higher and higher and higher. It felt so real, he hoped he would never wake up. That way, everyone would get what they wanted. Dew could fly forever, and Anton could use his body as a test subject, unable to resist.

But after a while, the more he spiralled, the more the sky turned colors and his flesh warped around him, the more the birds started talking to him in human words, and his nonexistent watch displayed numbers that didn’t exist, the more this fucked up reality faded away.

The last thing he saw before he woke up, was a little mouse in his hands, telling him the words, “I’m sorry.”

. . .

Dew gasped awake. “Dammit!” He screamed into his hands as tears flowed down his cheeks. It was just a dream. It was just a fucking dream.

Dew grabbed the blanket and yanked it over his head, curling into a ball and squeezing his eyes shut. Anton had to be in his room now, watching him, mocking him. He had another bad dream that was almost making him burst into tears, how pathetic was that? But it was too hot under the blanket, too suffocating. Dew threw it off of him, almost falling off of the bed by the force of his throw. If Anton was there, he would’ve laughed… Wait, he still wasn’t there?

Dew wasn’t expecting the lights to still be off in his room. He wasn’t expecting all of the lights to be still off. It was pitch dark in the lab. Dew blinked a couple times, maybe his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark yet? No… nothing had changed. Dew looked out the window to the glow of the clocks. 11:24AM.

Okay. This was fine. Anton was over three hours late. He had probably just slept in from being woken up last night. This was fine. Dew couldn’t see anything, not even his hands frantically waving in front of his face. This was fine.

Maybe the power went out? No, that wouldn’t explain how the clocks were still working, or why Anton was nowhere to be found.

Dew looked up towards the door, at where the camera would be. If Anton wasn’t in the lab, he would surely be watching him through that, right? That was how he found out about Dew’s nightmare last night, after all.

Oh shit– Dew cringed. How could he have been so stupid? Asking Anton to stay with him last night? What was he thinking?

Dew hated Anton. He hated him! He’d always hated him and sometimes the thoughts of killing him and escaping were the only thoughts that got him through this hell. But thinking about what had happened last night, it wouldn’t make any sense for Anton to just abandon him like this. The scientist wasn’t the type of person to just forget, or sleep in, or decide to take a random day off. He had a rigid schedule that he stuck to, and he seemed to never want to spend too much time away from his test subject if he didn’t need to.

Dew was his test subject though. Thinking about it like that made him want to cry, but at the moment, stuck in Anton’s lab, it was true. He was a test subject, and the scientist controlled every part of his life. Dew needed Anton if he was going to survive here. Anton knew he needed him. Dew didn’t want to die, but he surely would if Anton didn’t take care of him. As much as Dew didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to need Anton, he did.

“H-Hey!” Dew yelled, hoping the camera also had a microphone. “Why are all the lights off? I’m- I’m hungry!” Dew felt silly screaming into the air at nothing, but what else could he do?

“...I know you’re watching me!” Dew lied. “Stop ignoring me!” Nothing happened. “If- if this is some trick or- or experiment, like if you wanna see how I react to isolation or something, well, your cover's blown! I know what you’re planning now so you might as well come feed me!”

Silence.

Dark, suffocating, eerie silence.

“...Anton!” Dew shouted, not even at the camera anymore. He ran to the wall that looked over the lab and banged on the glass. “Anton! Anton! Anton?…” His screams died down after a little while, when he was sure he wouldn’t get a response.

“Just fucking great,” Dew sighed to himself. He stood in his room, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in this dark void. It was a small room, and there was almost nothing to do but wait until whenever Anton showed up. Dew didn’t understand what was happening, why, of all days, Anton just… Wasn’t here. But it was fine, he supposed, it meant he’d be free from pain for a little while.

Even if Dew did have something to do, it was impossible to see anything. He didn’t want to just go back to sleep though, after two terrible dreams in a row. And besides, he’d gotten a lot of sleep by now. He was wide awake.

Dew paced his room, trying to calm down. He was hungry, but he could go a few more hours without food, it was fine. Dew held his arms out in front of him, feeling the walls for the bathroom door. Dew was thankful Anton had removed that chain from his ankle a few weeks prior, at least now he wouldn’t have to worry about tripping over it in the dark.

Brushing his teeth was easy in the dark, and so was showering. It was a routine, a pattern. Not being able to see didn’t change anything. And Dew liked the dark, he’d always loved being in small, dark spaces, it had always been a comfort to him.

It was only until recently that he first felt the creeping fear of the dark, a cold chill go crawl up his spine whenever it was too dark to see what was lurking behind him. It didn’t make sense; Anton was the only other person here. But still, Dew hated the constant feeling that he was being watched, even in the darkness.

It was only until recently that he had grown to hate confined spaces. His growing wings needed to stretch out, and Dew was forced to spend his time out in the open. Yet another thing his captor took from him.

But that was fine. That didn’t even matter. There were so many more things that were more important than not being able to have slumber parties with his friends in the tiny room under the stairs anymore, or listening to music in his dark closet.

The shower helped Dew’s racing heart, but did nothing to get him out of this… situation. It was strange, wanting the things that hurt him; the too bright lights to turn on and Anton to walk through the door. It meant pain, most likely, and fear… but it also meant he wasn’t alone.

Dew almost hated being alone more than being with Anton.

And he hated that.

Dew didn’t have any dishes, so he cupped his hands under the cool sink water and sipped it from there. At least he knew he wouldn’t die from dehydration. But he still had no food.

He checked the clock. 13:23. He learned how to read a 24 hour clock at this point, it was a little over 1pm. Anton was over six hours late.

This wasn’t fine anymore. Of course it wasn’t. Where could Anton possibly be? Dew thought of all the things that could've happened to his captor to keep him from coming down here, and it just didn’t make sense. Anton hadn’t left Dew’s side for almost two months straight, why had he suddenly abandoned him?

Maybe he got caught? Maybe Dew’s friends or the authorities finally found him and locked him up… but then why weren’t they coming to Dew’s rescue? Did Anton destroy the keys to the lab? Was Dew now stuck here forever, his friends on the other side of the door, waiting for some miracle to open it?

Dew shook those thoughts away. Of course they weren’t. Of course, they must still be looking for him, but he’d know if they found him by now. They wouldn’t need a key to open a door when they could just kick it down.

So what was it then? Where the fuck was Anton? Was he in trouble? Did something happen? Dew supposed the worst possible thing would be if something bad did happen to Anton, and he wasn’t around to help Dew. At all. That thought, that feeling of sheer abandonment and knowing that if Anton disappeared, nobody would ever find your body, deep underground in the secret lab.

Dew laid down on his stomach, resting his head in his arms while his wings fidgeted nervously above him. He felt his stomach growl with hunger and he wished he had his music to listen to… If not that, then humming his favorite songs until Anton showed up would have to do.

Because he would show up, and Dew would have the slight comfort of knowing he wouldn’t die here, at least not abandoned and all alone.

. . .

Dew couldn’t take it anymore. How long had it been? It was 6PM already. Eleven hours after Anton was supposed to wake him up. He’d hummed the lyrics to probably 100 songs by now, all of them jumbling together as the minutes slowly ticked by. He felt like he was going insane, there was absolutely nothing to do. There was nothing to see, to hear, taste, smell… it was torture.

Dew wished he’d asked for a notebook, or a book to read, or anything to make his time here less boring. But he’d usually spend time with Anton in the lab during the day, and resting during the night, too tired from the experiments to do anything else. So he never bothered to ask for things to keep him entertained. How he wished he did now… even if it was too dark to see it.

The only sound he could hear besides his rapidly beating heart and racing thoughts was the air conditioning start up every hour. The white noise drowned out some of his spiral, but it was no use.

Eventually Dew decided to take another shower, to feel the warm water turn freezing cold and smile as Anton’s water bill went up. But that got boring quickly too. He kept the water on though, the silence he onced loved turning suffocating.

Dew stared at the clock. 19:45. It’d been over 12 hours. He’d stopped trying to sleep a while ago. Dew was curled up in a ball on the floor in the corner of his room. He stared at the camera with hatred in his eyes.

“I bet you think this is funny, huh,” Dew spat. “You found out last night I hate being alone, so you thought you’d leave me all alone in the dark today, huh? With no food? Or stimulation, o-or company? You just wanna torture me now, is that it?” Dew wrung his hands through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut at an attempt to hold back tears.

“You think– that maybe being ‘nice’ isn’t working, it’s not making me want to stay here willingly… So you decided to abandon me, make me see how much I need you and d-depend on you. S-so that when you come back and feed me, I-I’ll want to stay because I can’t stand being alone– all fucking alone in this cage! You wanna see me break, is that it?! You want me to be compliant and obedient while you fucking experiment on me like some animal?!

“I’m not an animal… I’m a person, Anton! I’m a person and I know you know that! I know you have this strange fucking– perception of me and sometimes you treat me nice but the other times you treat me like I don’t even have a fucking mind! You don’t make any sense! I don’t understand you!

“But if this– if all this is some trick to get me to willingly take part as a test subject like you want– It’s not working! I won’t fall for any of your fucking tricks again! Go fuck youself! Go fuck yourself and go die! I’ll kill you, you hear me!? When I get out of here I will fucking rip you apart!”

Dew hadn’t realized he stood up, but he found himself standing in front of the door, staring at the camera as tears flowed down his cheeks– he hadn’t noticed he started crying either. Dew grabbed the camera and yanked it from the wall, throwing it to the floor and laughing as it smashed into pieces.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Dew collapsed to the ground and cried in a ball. Anton wouldn’t be happy about him breaking that. But the scientist couldn’t even see him now. He wasn’t watching him anymore.

He wasn’t watching him anymore.

Dew’s breath hitched at his sudden realization. He was alone. He wasn't being watched. If Anton had been watching through the surveillance camera, he’d surely come down to see what happened to it. But if he wasn’t… He wouldn’t know it was even broken.

Dew’s heart sped up. He uncurled himself from the floor and stood on trembling legs. He was alone. He wasn’t being watched. Nobody was here to stop him. He could escape.

Dew frantically started to try and open the door, kicking it and banging on it. He moved his hands and felt along the walls, as if he’d push a brick in and unlock a secret entranceway. He knew it didn’t make sense, nothing did right now. He was starving, he felt like a feral animal, proving the scientist right as he picked up the chair and threw it at the door. When that did nothing, he then threw it at the glass wall, but that too, was too strong. Dew tried picking up his entire bed frame, but he wasn’t strong enough. He hadn’t eaten all day. He was starving and weak and exhausted.

The air conditioner started up again, signifying the endless passing of time that never seemed to stop. The sound of cool air flowing through his room just reminded him how trapped he was—

Wait a fucking minute.

Dew looked up to the corner of his ceiling, above his bed and to the left. Of course he saw nothing, the room was still dark. But he knew what was there. He knew what’d always been there since day one but the thought never even occurred to him to try and open it. He was too short, too weak to pry open the metal hinges. Especially not with Anton watching through the camera or being in the lab all the time. But now… he was all alone. He could reach the vents now. He could. He could go through them and the scientist would never know because he wasn’t here.

Dew’s wings fluttered in anticipation. Excitement. Suspense. Hope. This wasn’t like the other times he’d tried to escape. He didn’t randomly decide one morning that today would be the day, he didn’t impulsively decide to escape and run and be chased and get hurt. This was controlled. This time, he was alone. He was by himself and Anton was nowhere to stop him or mind control him or hurt him. Dew could escape and there was nothing Anton could do about it because he was gone.

And at this point, Dew didn’t care where Anton went. He was done waiting around for his captor to come back. He had a plan now. This was the chance he’d been waiting for.

Dew waited another half hour, making sure he truly was alone. Maybe a part of himself tried to talk him out of it, told him he’d just be hurt more, worse than before for escaping. But he ignored that part of himself, the part that tried to keep him safe, the part that saw himself as just a test subject.

He couldn’t wait any longer and let that part of himself win. He took a glance at the clock– 20:16, 8PM– before he hopped up on his bed with nervous, shaking legs. He was too short to reach the vents with his arms, so he grabbed the chair in the corner and stacked it on his nightstand and climbed on top of that. If he fell from there, it would hurt, but not as bad as what Anton would do if he caught him escaping.

Dew took one last look towards the direction of the window, down where the door to the lab would be. If it opened now, he could just hop down and pretend everything was normal. He could wait until Anton arrived like the good test subject he was, but Dew knew that wasn’t gonna happen. Fuck that shit. This was it, no going back now.

Dew’s wings fluttered as he jumped in the air and grabbed the bars of the vents with his hands. His legs kicked out and knocked over the chair, having nothing to step on, but that was fine. His wings kicked into action and despite his room being so small, and despite not being able to see where the walls began, he was flying. He positioned himself upside down, hands gripping the vent, feet placed on the ceiling, on either side of it, and pulled with all his strength.

The vent suddenly swung open, causing Dew to fall backwards, but he expected that to happen and he was ready. His wings flapped rapidly as he lunged himself upward, through the hole in the ceiling, and into the unknown.

He collapsed in the small, cold, metal space. He closed the latch back up, covering his tracks, and began to crawl through the tight tunnels. It wasn’t as a tight space as Dew was expecting, which he was thankful for. There was enough room to sit up and turn around if he needed to. It was still dark, and he had to hold his arms in front of him to not bump into a wall, or fall down a sudden turn.

Despite the high stakes situation, Dew couldn’t help but smile. Crawling through the vents like he was in a heist movie was something Dew had always wanted to do. He just hoped it would end with him making it to the surface.

He was crawling for a few moments until he found his first turn, his sense of direction was abysmal so he had no idea what way to go, so he just chose a direction and kept crawling.

A sudden, terrifying thought occurred to him. The lab was located underground, deep, deep underground. If Dew never found an exit, if Anton never got him out of the air ducts, Dew would just die here.

He gulped that thought away. He couldn’t think like that, he wasn’t going to die.

After more twists and turns, he found an opening. He couldn’t see what was out the other side, as the lights were still off, but he didn’t want to be in the vents anymore. So, with the bit of strength he had left, he kicked it open and jumped down, his wings softening the landing.

Dew was out. Dew was out of his room and even though he was hungry, that didn’t matter anymore— nothing mattered now except escaping the lab.

Dew looked around frantically, recognising the familiar feeling of the tiles on the floor, and noticing the glow of the clocks closer to him. He was in the lab. Alone.

It was around 9PM. Dew didn’t think anymore, not about his hunger, not about Anton, not about what would happen to him later, only about finding a way out. He ran to where the clock was, that was a good start. He tripped over some boxes on the floor but regained his footing quickly, fueled solely on adrenaline.

He made it to Anton’s desk, and felt around for anything. He opened drawers until he found a flashlight. It clicked on and Dew let out a sigh of relief. Finally, he could see.

First thing first was finding out what fucking day it was. Dew tried to keep count, but only had a rough estimation at this point. He shined his flashlight over Anton’s desk, picking up a small bag and stuffing it with papers, files, tape recorders, any evidence that would be helpful once he gets out of here. He found a small blank notepad, and a pen, and stuff that into his pants pocket as well. And then his eyes landed on a calendar.

Dew looked at the calendar. All the days that had passed were marked with an ‘X’, except today: October 3rd. It was October already? Dew realized in horror. 

Dew flipped through the calendar a few pages until he got to August. Some of the days had writing over them, important events Anton was waiting for, Dew supposed. One of the days was circled with a blue marker. “New test subject day!” it read. Dew felt sick. Anton had planned it, written the day he was gonna kidnap him down on his calendar like it was any other special event.

Dew had been taken around the beginning of August, and it was already October. Dew felt numb. How had he let eight weeks pass like it was nothing? How could– How hasn’t anybody found him yet? Surely people have been looking, right?

Dew crumpled up the calendar in his hands, tears freely falling down onto it. He’d been here so long, he only just realized his birthday was already two weeks away.

Dew missed out on seven consecutive gamenights with his roommates. He missed over 40 days of work. He missed feeding Hayden’s snake every Wednesday. He missed sitting on the couch with Layla to watch a new episode of her favorite show every Friday, with Sir Bonkles purring on his lap. He missed out on long nights awake playing video games with Sawyer. He missed playing with Sawyer’s dog. He missed Sawyer.

“C-calm down,” Dew told himself. Breaking down wouldn’t help his situation now, he had to focus.

He’d see Sawyer, and Hayden and Layla and all their pets later. He’d reunite with his best friends and confess his most likely unrequited love to them later. Now was not the time to think about all this.

Dew stood up on shaking legs, forgetting about the half-assed bag of evidence he made, and pointed his flashlight towards the direction of the door. He was hungry, he hadn’t eaten in a full 24 hours, but Anton was gone. He was so close, he could just leave if he got the door open.

He shined the flashlight to a nearby shelf, jump scaring himself at the sight of needles, but he shook that fear away. He didn’t have time for fear. Dew took a deep breath and looked over the various strange tools and weapons, any of these outta get that door open.

Just as Dew was heading towards the door with a crowbar in hand, the lights suddenly turned on, briefly blinding him. Dew stopped in his tracks, dread pooling in his stomach, acutely aware of the situation he was in. He hadn’t felt this sense of pure terror before, almost animalistic, this deep sense of dread that made a chill crawl up his spine and his entire body tremble in terror.

He was caught.

Anton was back.

—

:)

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#the last lab rat #my writing #lab whump #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whump series #winged whumpee #trans whumpee #needles #mind control #nightmares #captivity whump #death mention #parent death mention #fear of abandonment #isolation #sensory deprivation #starvation #emotional whump #claustrophobia #escape attempt

[cold1dead1eyes]

28. self-isolation

whumpee's phone dings next to them. their heart jolts in their chest, stomach churning with pure self-hatred induced fear. they put their face into their hands.

"it's okay. it's okay." whumpee whispers to themself. their heart is beating so damn fast that they can barely breathe. they force themself to reach out for their phone and turn in over to check the screen.

'where are you, whumpee? are you okay?' the text reads. the frantic beat of whumpee's heart becomes impossible. thump, thump, thump. whumpee can't breathe, they can't think, they just want to run and hide until everyone forgets them.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry." they mutter under their breath as they throw their phone into a desk drawer. they shut it with a bang and curl up around themself.

everyone is so worried about them. it makes whumpee feel terrible. they never meant to worry anyone with their absence and, frankly, whumpee hadn't expected for anyone to care. they didn't expect to be saved. now they had to live in a world that hadn't changed in a body and mind that they couldn't even recognize.

whumpee can’t handle people anymore. not after whumper. public places are too crowded, too loud, people speak too animatedly and feel too much all at once. whumpee barely remembers how to think, much less feel. they’ve completely forgotten social cues, niceties, small-talk, things as simple as facial expressions. they just— don’t remember how to be human.

whumpee sniffles and tucks their head between their knees, gently rocking back and forth. they can't take this. the concerned messages, the fear, the confusion, it's all too much. why would anyone care for them like that? why does anyone care at all when even whumpee didn't care if they lived or died. why are they alive if they’re too broken and empty to be human?

so whumpee just zones out and dissociates until they're fully gone. they sit there for minutes, hours, nearly a full day, mind blank and hazy until they get another notification, and the whole loop starts again.

prompt from @whumpay

#self isolation #whump #whump writing #whump prompt #whump drabble #recovery whump #conditioned whumpee #angst #whumpay2023 #whumpay