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cptslibrary · 5 months

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Whumpcember Day 8 - Isolation

Whumpcember Prompt 8 - Isolation Fandom - Peter Pan CW - None

Captain Hook felt the earth shake before he saw the rocks slide behind him. The last thing he saw was Smee’s concerned face before all the light to the small cave was cut off. In the inky darkness, he carefully moved his body, making sure he was still in one piece and unharmed.

They had been searching for treasure. Peter - the brat - had stolen some off his ship again and flown off to play his favorite game: treasure hunt. Hook despised the brat for thinking his gold was one of Peter’s toys. Peter couldn’t even begin to fathom how much blood had been spilt to fill even one of Hook’s chests. And Hook would never be able to leave the island without it.

Now though, he had bigger concerns. He bellowed in the cave. “Hello? Can you hear me? Get me out!” But there was no answer. Hook felt around the rocks where the entrance had just been. His hook was only so good at moving the rocks, and many were too heavy to move. He felt briefly lucky to not have been crushed. That quickly turned to despair as he realized that the few men he brought with him would not be enough to move the weight. He would be here for several hours at least.

He kicked a rock blindly before setting down on the dirt. He felt a hand out against a wall and quickly pulled it back when he felt the damp sponginess against his fingers. Muttering to himself, he crossed his legs and leaned forward.

As he settled in for a long wait, he became aware of a slight dripping. He paid it no mind. His thoughts were already leagues away, dreaming of capturing Pan. How dare he steal from Hook, and for no good reason. A child’s game.

It was so easy for Peter. He hated that he could just decide to play games and the rest of the boys on the island would trip over themselves to join him. One could say adults still played games; chess and checkers and cards. But his crew were too simple and too afraid of him to ever entertain the idea. A game of chess, he laughed to himself. With who?

He thought back to his childhood. Alone in a big house, no boys his age to entertain himself with. He read quite often. Once, he had looked for fish in the small creek near the estate, but upon coming back his father had slapped him for getting his shoes dirty. He had never gone back to the creek.

School had been a little better, but he still felt he was different from most other boys. He did better than most at charming the female staff of the school, who always complimented his hair and how clean and pressed his uniform was. He was not so successful with the male staff and students, who thought he was untrustworthy and prissy. A memory floated to his mind of one boy calling him Slimy Jim to his face. He broke that boy’s nose and was caned soundly for it, but no one dared call him that to his face again. He knew they said it behind his back though.

He only began to be accepted after he proved more than capable at rowing and cricket, and even then he felt a clear divide. He was never included in their weekend activities, and rarely spoken to outside of practice. He didn’t regret stealing those trophies. He never really felt like a member of a team anyway.

He was always alone. He leaned forward in his seat and cupped his face with his hand. He never felt like he had belonged anywhere, and even as the captain of his own ship it didn’t fill him the way it wanted to. His ship, his treasures, his crew were all just possessions of his, not a community. He could consider Smee his closest companion, but still the jolly man could never understand him. James knew in his heart that he tried.

He heard the cracking of rocks and quickly broke out of his reverie. The men were pulling through quicker than expected. A small victory for him. Perhaps they weren't completely useless after all. The rocks gave way to beams of light as he was excavated from his tomb. Soon enough, he could hear Smee's voice.

"Cap'n can you hear me? Are you hurt?"

"Smee! I'm fine. Get me out of this blasted cave!"

"On it, Cap'n." Hook was free only a few minutes later.

#whumpcember2023 #captain hook #whumpcember day8

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ex0rin · 1 year

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Whumpcember 2022 - Day 8

@whumpcember - Day 8 ALT Lashing Out Brock Rumlow, The Soldier, Agent Cole, Jack Rollins - 580 words confusion, jealousy, a broken nose

ps: if anyone was ever wondering about what my sweet child Agent Cole actually looks like it's Orlando Bloom in Black Hawk Down:

(my gif, shout out to black and white for covering all manner of sins)

The soldier watches as the youngest and newest of his commander’s team, Agent Cole, sways intentionally to the side and nudges his shoulder up against Rumlow’s as they talk in the hallway of the safehouse - the agent is smiling and there’s the faint trace of red sitting high on his cheeks; the soldier doesn’t know why this makes his chest tighten and his mouth press into a firm line.

He doesn’t like the way his commander laughs under his breath and doesn’t shift away from how close the younger man gets.

There’s no reason for this level of closeness - the agent and Rumlow are already close enough that they can easily hear each other and if it wasn’t part of the soldier’s training to not listen into other conversations unless explicitly told, he would also be able to hear them.

The soldier must be making a noise from his throat because Rumlow glances up and away from the agent to look at him and raises an eyebrow before turning back to whatever Agent Cole is saying - that compression in his chest extends into his stomach and makes him feel uncomfortable all over; it twists up inside of him so tight that he should tell his commander that there’s something wrong with his functionality.

The younger man sets a hand on his commander’s shoulder and the soldier feels like his vision tilts to the side as fingertips press in hard enough that he can see the way Rumlow’s shirt dips around the pressure.

He doesn’t consciously make a decision to move - even if he could, he’s been given orders to stay where he is, orders from his commander that should override everything else but it’s too late to stop, he’s already moving; the soldier’s hands find purchase against Agent Cole’s back, pushing the younger man forward hard and fast enough that there’s no time for the agent to react.

The soldier follows the movement, crushing his body up along the agent’s back; he doesn’t remember putting a hand along the crown of the younger man’s head but it’s there, forcing the agent’s face back before shoving it up against the hallway wall with a startling, sickening crack - Agent Cole’s breath goes pained, sounding wet like there’s already blood in flooding into his mouth.

“Soldat.”

One word over the rushing sound of pounding in his ears.

He stumbles back, turning to face his commander and only peripherally noticing the way that the other agent’s body slumps down onto the hardwood floor.

The soldier hears the snap, loud over everything else and goes to his knees in front of Rumlow; his commander’s dark eyes are narrowed, mouth pulled into a frown and his insides twist up even more - there’s another sound in his throat, low and keening.

“Report.” Rumlow says and the soldier can hear the anger in his commander’s voice.

“Agent Cole was too close to the commander.” the soldier starts, his head struggles to make sense of the original cause of the violence he’d just done to Agent Cole - he feels his mouth open and close, his hand moves to his stomach, to where the tangled-up feeling lives, “Uncomfortable tightness here.”

“Uncomfortable tightness,” Rumlow repeats, saying the words slowly like the commander is testing them out, trying to understand and find the correct punishment for the way the soldier disobeyed.

“Jesuschrist,” the commander’s second starts and the soldier tenses along his shoulders - he hadn’t even noticed Agent Rollins moving to collect the younger agent from the floor, “it’s fucking jealous Brock.”

#whumpcember2022 #whumpcember day8 #cara writes #cara gifs #playing catch up again #bucky tag #rumlow tag #hydra agent cole tag #(my sweet smol bean)#rollins tag

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rain-candles-jazz · 1 year

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#whumpcember2022 #whumpcember day8 #faked death #whump #whump art #deego #faleece #itchy #closet believers #tw blood #tw gun violence

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its-my-whump · 5 months

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Whumpcember2023 Day 8 - Isolation

@whumpcember

It felt like his heart was crushed by an icecold hand. His insides felt as freezing as his moist prison.

He couldn't recall how long he had been here. He didn't know, if it was day or night outside. There was no natural light reaching the windowless room. Naked brickwalls were all he had seen for days, maybe weeks. And they were staring back at him, just as bluntly, as he was staring at them.

There was a small light under the ceiling behind a grid. It was switched on and of in, what seemed, unregular intervalls.

TJ had never felt lonely before in his life. He was used to be around himself a lot. But what he was feeling now was like being eaten alive bit by bit. Everyday a tiny bit of his confidence had crumbled, a tiny piece of his cool, a pinch of his soul got lost in that bottomless pit of lonelyness.

No one had talked to him since he got here.

He was on his way home, got knocked out and woke up in this room. No clue, how long ago that had been.

No one had explained anything. Beside the hit on his head, no one had gotten near him.

There was a bottle of water every day, or at least, regularly.

Now and again there was a sandwich slid under the door through the same small hatch, the water was coming from.

TJ had seen a gloved hand and a leather shoe. Size of both indicated that his capture was a male.

He had yelled, screamed and begged whenever the hatch opened. He had cried at the walls of his empty prision.

But it was all in vain. No one ever answered. No one ever told him to shut up. No one ever complained. No one ever cared.

The only thing that changed, was that every time he woke up from a unsatisfying nap, a tiny bit more of the spark in his soul had gone dark.

His voice was hoarse, first from all the curses and screams, over time from lack of use.

His hair was longer, tickling at the crook of his neck. His fingernail refused to stop growing, mocking him of the endless time, he was allready here. The few stubbles in his face had turned his expression into a dark shadow. Not that he had any chance to look at himself, but his stiff fingers went through more hair and deeper wrinkels of despair every time he brought them up to his face.

No, he had never felt lonely or the need for company before. And he had never believed, that human contact was an essential need to survive.

But now he was desperately longing to hear another voice but his own, that was constantly screaming inside his head. He was longing to see another face or feel another persons presence. But his wishes stayed unfulfilled.

whumpcember masterlist

#whumpcember #whumpcember2023 day8 #whump #writing #whump community #whump writing #isolation

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