#white torture

[scratchandplaster]

Dulosis

CW: sleep deprivation, white/noise torture, creepy/intimate Whumper, defiant Whumpee, hallucinations

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The room was as barren as it was functional, two square meters of locked space. They called it a white room, but the walls were padded with dusty-gray foam, which he already tried to pick apart. In no way did the tapered spikes budge.

Not that this changed anything, the noise was still kept inside. It came once every half hour, he counted, a deafening sough in close intervals, at least one minute in length.

Counting was the only thing he was able to busy himself with, though, so he didn't mind when they decided to change the frequency up to put the ungrateful guest on edge.

On the third day, he ripped a button from his cardigan, throwing and blindly fumbling for it. Another game, another way to keep the last sliver of his mind in place. He remembered vaguely seeing this trick in a documentary about Alcatraz, a little how-to experience about keeping sane in solitary confinement.

The issue wasn't the silence or the solitude; he preferred that to being kept downstairs and playing house with a person he barely knew. That fucking psycho snapped, he had thought when they shoved him in here, food or water missing since day one.

No, it was the noise.

The chaos that dug itself deep into his brain's fissures, keeping his mind alert and body awake even after what felt like eternity. 

The ants came after the fourteenth alarm, he counted that too, crawling through the barely visible slit that was separating him from freedom. A few at the start, but where they came from others waited for an equal opportunity, and soon the floor was sprinkled with them, too large to number. On his skin, his lashes, pushing his lips apart to engulf every pore with the prickly tap of their countless feet.

And then they were gone again, nothing but foam and noise for a while. They would return, no doubt, and with that knowledge he started to get thankful for the scheduled terror, just barely. Scratching at the back of his senses, the thirst that dried his body up from the inside had become just a minor problem.

At one point he could hear his own intestines working; pumping, contracting and rhythmically meandering to the sound that just so snapped him back to reality.

Again.

And then again, never a warning beforehand. Did that happen in the documentary too? He couldn't tell anymore; didn't know anything. Mind so fuzzy, he nearly caught himself wishing for that freak to come back and open the door, turn off the sounds, anything to let him rest.

Now, after cowering on the ground with both hands pressed tightly against his ears, so nothing would crawl inside, there came a new fuss. A single light click, then another as the heavy steel door moved outwards and his captor's silhouette blocked the entry. The sudden brightness left him nearly blinded, another misery piling on top.

"Hello there, I nearly forgot about you."

The friendly chuckle they let rain down on him felt like poison. But they lied through their teeth, spending every quiet minute they stole from their captive to plan the inevitable outcome, success now prickling right on their fingertips.

The cowering mess at their feet let out a weak hack, voice sore from misuse: "Let me rest."

Bloodshot eyes met an unmoving stare. There was no room to negotiate.

"Ask nicely, sweetheart," the shape offered instead.

"You fucking-"

Without another word, they turned on the spot, ready to leave him stewing in his own misery. Maybe five days weren't enough, they could wait.

The room was practically filled with his stare that clung to their back, heart thrumming so heavy in his chest it felt like it would burst out any second. Not willing to give up the last sliver of freedom he had kept safe so carefully, but too weak and confused to do anything about it, the words just slipped from his lips.

"Nonono wait, I'm sorry. Stay. Stay!"

He wanted them to keep talking, to hear anything else than that ingrain blare, the thrumming of his heart, the legs crawling along...

Behind the veil of quickly forming tears, he could see his captor halt and turn. More? Did they want more of this? Living the lie with them, just as a short break, maybe. A workaround. Get strength back and try again. If he made it that far... Just to rest for a bit.

"Please," the hurt voice pressed out, "I'm j-just so tired. I won't make you any more trouble."

"Again," the shadow replied, voice warm as the summer noon. They knew he was so much closer to what they imagined. The other sessions they had together were not as successful, but finally he seemed to let his guard slip. Almost there.

A lone sniff could be heard in the room, more closet than anything.

"Please. Can I please go to sleep, just for a bit?"

It was over for today. Other fights would come, ones he would win, or so he assured himself.

Fights he would give up again, his captor knew.

Nearly gone again, he was quickly brought back by the thin smile that crept across their face, victorious after all. They gave a single nod that made the sore loser fold into himself, eyes closed and face flat against the barren floor.

Maybe the light will stay on too. Oh, please stay on, it's safer that way...it's safe.

A warm palm gently placed itself on his matted hair, not touching but resting in a most innocent gesture.

"Not in here," they whispered, "Not after you're finally behaving, dear."

The hand slipped down further, and with it the reassuring touch. He was being pet, a part of him recognized. A small price in the end.

Hand placed in shaking hand, he was pulled up to face the victor of this little game.

"Come on. You will love it."

More carried than led down the hall, through blurry and burning vision, he could see doors beside them passing. They pulled him around the corner and through the wooden doorway onto a bed, ready and freshly made.

The heavy comforter atop the sheets seemed too pristine to hold his filthy body, but his captor didn't seem to mind one bit when they dragged him under the white heaven. Both would clean up tomorrow, the next step that was oh-so carefully prepared.

The shaken man shouldn't dare to forget how divine this felt, and if he did, their special room would still be vacant for another time.

As he was tucked in with peaceful humming right behind his ear, his mind sank into the comfort he had denied himself for such a long time. And for this moment, freedom traded in for peace, numbing sound for forced touch, he believed it was worth it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterpost]

[semanti]

[skadoodler]

etho in infinity room hell: a compilation

[kettlefire]

Not so Different. (DcxDp)

The stunned silence was louder than the rest of the gala had been. Every single pair of eyes were wide with shock, fear, and even concern. The last sound to have left the patrons was scattered gasps at the reveal.

It was meant to be simple. A new up and coming technological company had put all their savings into this. A huge gala to show of the reason the world needed their technology. Needed their help.

No one believed it. Truly, who could have? A large group of men and women dressed purely in white suits, spouting about the threats of ghosts. It was insane and impossible.

Many of the big names that attended today only came for publicity. The notoriety that came with having been there when this company crashed and burned in one night.

It's the only reason Bruce Wayne was even among the crowd. Accompanied by Oliver Queen and his own son, Dick Grayson. As much as Bruce hadn't wanted to be here, he knew his reputation was important to keep up.

That was until two agents stepped out onto a stage they had at the back of the large room. A thick curtain had kept the sight behind it completely hidden from the patrons. Until the moment was right. That was when the thick curtain had suddenly been ripped back, as a third man took a microphone and began to explain.

But his words fell on deaf ears. Especially for the three secret vigilantes in the crowd. Not a single person could tear their gaze away from the cage that now stood in full view.

It wasn't the cage that had everyone enraptured. No, it was the glowing creature curled up in the center of it. No, not a creature. It was a boy. Still baby faced and youthful. Too young to be in a cage.

A high-tech muzzle was securely wrapped tightly against the boy's mouth. His knees pulled tight to his chest, one arm wrapped around them. His other hand pressed tight against the muzzle, seeming to almost be trying to keep it in place.

The boy's toxic green eyes were wide, filled with a clear intensity of pain and terror. There were old tear stains on his cheeks, quickly being replenished with fresh tears. His messy, bright white hair fell into his face. The boy looked both like he wanted to look away, but also like he couldn't. Like he couldn't risk not seeing the threat coming.

It didn't take a genius to see the boy was in pain. Human or not, this went beyond inhumane treat. Making minds racing with thoughts of what else these people had done to the poor boy.

Bruce knew in this moment that this company had just caught the attention of Batman. Based on the look in Oliver's eyes, they also just collected the wrath of the Justice League as well. Bruce hadn't even needed to look at Dick to know he was on the same page.

It went unnoticed by any other patrons. All the focus was glued on the stage, on the lecture and caged boy. No one noticed when Bruce Wayne slipped his phone of his pocket. When he hit a singular speed dial as he turned away from the show. He brought his phone to his ear as he silently signaled his trusted allies to keep an eye on it.

[gofightwin]

it’s happening again, how did it end?

[carolinatsversion]

I love you, it's ruining my life 🤍

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Neil Breen - Cade: The Tortured Crossing (2023)

[jngsite]

͏ ͏𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗔 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏／ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏͏𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇͏ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ͏͏𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 ͏͏𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾'𝗌 ͏ ͏͏𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 ͏͏𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 ͏͏𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏𝗍𝗁𝖾 ͏𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 ͏𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[taylorlq]

the chairman of the tortured poets department

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

@Swifties

[speakno-w]

that's that me, espresso

[tolerateit]

FORTNIGHT // TAYLOR SWIFT FEATURING POST MALONE

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Ok but I’m still gagged by the choice of the white dress covered in her spilled ink for the TTPD set.

The way it’s almost certainly meant to reference a wedding gown just like the music video and how that ties into the narrative of TTPD in general.

The way so many of these songs are about how she’s been wronged and how she’s angry.

The striking image of her floating around on stage unleashing her anger in Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me, or her collapsed on the platform in Down Bad begging to be beamed back up to the space ship. Very much giving dying on the altar waiting for the proof (in both meanings). She’s the jilted lover and the runaway bride. She’s the old widow who goes to the stone everyday and she’s the girl heading towards a shotgun wedding if she keeps this up. She's the unhappily married woman whose life is turned upside down by a man beyond her reach, with the chasm between them widening the longer the set goes on. And then!!! she's taken away (held back?) by the nurses at the asylum -- the crazy wife being committed for hysteria!!! (Actually I don't know what order that comes in in the set -- I'm going to have to find better videos.)

She said that the TTPD set is Female Rage: The Musical, and a lot of that is "I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free." She sacrificed her youth to her demons and to people who never had her best interest at heart. She sacrificed her youth to bad actors who wanted to ruin her. She sacrificed her youth to men who traded promises of commitment for their own safety.

So to see that all symbolized in the white gown, saying "I love you, it's ruining my life," is so powerful. By the time we get to "The Smallest Man," she's covered up in the band (or army dress?) uniform, those dreams finally dead and buried, marching to her own memorial service. They all finally kill her, and her dreams of her future.

IT'S A LOT. A LOT A LOT A LOT.

[fishfingersandscarves]

HAHAHAHAHA

[gofightwin]

cross your thoughtless heart, only liquor anoints you

[arrancarmelos]

ྀ♥︎̼ ⬚͒ ✉͟️͟ ͟ ͟ ͟

All’s Fair In Love And Poetry ❀ ㆁ̴̶̷̤́ ㆁ̴̶̷̤̀