time to hurt

My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.

I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.

My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.

I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.

This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.

If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.

I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.

In light of some deeply sad news in the whump community today, I’m thinking about how many of us here struggle with mental health, sometimes including physical or mental self-harm and suicidality. Since I know lots of folks might be having a hard time right now, I wanted to share some resources that have helped me in rough moments. Please feel free to add on to this post (or make your own, if you want!) with the resources that have worked for you. 

First, a note:

Trauma, shame, and suicidality all tend to isolate - they make us feel like we’re all alone in the world, like no one else would understand us, and like the only solutions we have available to us are ones we can think of all by ourselves. In my experience, the antidote to that is connection. If you’re feeling scared or alone, you can hop into my asks or DMs if you want. I’m sure there are other folks in this community who would offer that, too. Many of us have grappled with mental health struggles, including suicidal ideation, and sometimes we can offer each other the care that can be hard to offer ourselves. Don’t be afraid to reach out if you need support.

That said, here’s my absolute first recommendation if you’re feeling generally awful and don’t know what to do:

1. You Feel Like Shit (also available at its original site here)

If you’ve read a lot of ~self care tips~ in your life (and if you’re a bit of a salty bitch like me), you might be sick of being told to eat something and take a nap. (I don’t think we can hydrate our way out of long-term trauma and late-stage capitalistic hell, but thanks.) That said, I’ve found this site REALLY helpful. Personally, I have ADHD and CPTSD, a combination that makes it ROUGH for me to know how to take care of myself sometimes. This site speaks to you calmly, like a non-judgemental friend, and walks you through steps that you might struggle with if you have a hard time with executive function in general, or if you’re ill, grieving, overwhelmed, or otherwise just off your game. I pretty much always walk away feeling at least a little better, even if I don’t complete every step.

There are more suggestions and resources below the cut. Wishing everyone in this community love and care. <3

Will whumper rub it in their face? "It's easier when you're alone, so no one can hear you scream."

Took me a while (what else is new), but here you go!

[SV-240 masterlist]

contents: forced relationship whump, slavery whump, creepy/intimate whumper, trauma, flashbacks, panic attack, creepy comfort, referenced: broken fingers, whipping, cutting.

~~~

Wren has gone through so much pain since he was captured; torture has become just a fact in his life, something Daniel loves too much to let it go. 

The regular torture methods he has gotten used to. They hurt regardless, but he's used to the sight of the whip or Daniel's favorite knife, and the way they bite into his flesh.

But then there are the others, the ones that have only happened once, in circumstances he'd rather not relive. The more time passes, the fuzzier the memories become - but the memory of the pain becomes exaggerated, and when he catches himself thinking back to it against his will, all he remembers is agony.

But all of that is behind him, hopefully. He's learned to block it from his memory - until now.

"Give me a break."

Justsomewhumpee's Favorite Whump Tropes:

A whumpee that is in denial about how bad their condition is ---------------------------------------------------------------

This could be whumpee ignoring a serious injury and continuing to make jokes as blood starts to seep through their clothes

Or maybe whumpee is just super overworked, always running around doing errands and favors for people and they disregard caretaker's advice to take a break... Until they're no longer able to ignore it because now they have to take a break due to fainting in front of caretaker out of exhaustion

And of course, now caretaker won't let them out of their sight

Rescue mission whump!! ---------------------------------------------------------------

Whumpee is in captivity, and thinks no one cares or even knows they're gone. All hope is lost to them, but little do they know caretaker is storming the building where they're being held in an effort to save them

Bonus if caretaker is filled with rage towards whumper and gives them a little taste of their own medicine..

Recovery whump (chef's kiss) ---------------------------------------------------------------

Whumpee being cared for by lovely caretaker after being seriously wounded

Caretaker won't let whumpee out of their sight

Especially because whumpee thinks they can jump right back into doing anything they want, risking further injury

Whumper turned caretaker (GOOD soup) ---------------------------------------------------------------

I absolutely LOVE this trope??? Like, whumper going from being controlling and abusive to realizing that hey, this whumpee has gone through some terrible shit already they don't think they should have to take any more.

Whumpee maybe going through sleep deprivation-caused delirium and just blurting out all the horrors their family/ friends/ team put them through.

Whumpee is too out of it to notice, but the entire time they're talking to whumper, they just stare back at them in stunned silence with concern plastered across their face for their hostage.

In the morning whumpee finds themselves in a comfortable bed no longer shackled to a wall, as their exhausted looking ex-whumper sits in a chair near their bed as they had been protectively watching over them as they slept.

Unruly and defiant whumpees!!! ---------------------------------------------------------------

Especially when whumpee doesn't take their torture seriously

Making snide remarks to whumper even as they receive blow after blow

Even when whumpee is reduced to a bloody, battered mess trembling from the pain, they still hiss insults at whumper through gritted teeth- ignoring every threat that is subsequently hurled at them

Whumpees who have been completely changed by their trauma ---------------------------------------------------------------

Before being captured, whumpee was always known for their bubbly energy, fearless personality, as well as their caring and outgoing nature

After they're found following months of being in captivity, their team can't believe its the same person. The once bright and energetic whumpee won't speak to or even make eye contact with any of their teammates

Still a firm believer and here’s why:

Essence of elevator whump: Trapped in a box with your worst nightmare!

The potential for public whump

Angst and fear all the way up (or down)

To elaborate, here’s some brain juice:

- Whumpee being coaxed by their arm to the back of the elevator, Whumper standing in silence next to them as more people get in.

- Shushing them, maybe a gun or knife pressed into their back.

- “Make a sound and everyone in this box is dead.” whispered just as the doors close.

- A possessive hand on their shoulder and Whumpee having to hide the fear in their eyes and fake a smile as people they know get in and greet them.

- Or Whumpee gets in, oblivious. Maybe too preoccupied with their phone or thoughts to take a look at the people in the elevator. They turn to face the doors and suddenly they feel something sharp press into their side.

- “So good to see you again, my love.”

- Whumpee getting into the elevator alone, maybe on the run, letting out a sigh as the doors close but just then, a hand or foot is jammed between the doors and Whumpee can only watch as the doors slowly reopen and they stare right in the face of Whumper.

- Also, did you mean: Whumpee frantically slamming the buttons to be able to close the doors in time. They fail, of course.

- When they want to get out on the first available floor the elevator stops, but a hand to their shoulder, or around their arm holds them back and Whumpee has to watch in despair as other people get out. All of them. Leaving them alone with…

- Or the Whumpee is riding the elevator, perhaps with friends even. And the doors open and Whumper steps in.

- He grins, stands behind them, and Whumpee has to struggle to put on a happy face, offering forced smiles at their friends’ jokes.

- If they’re completely alone, they back away, against the wall, and Whumper with a predatory grin presses in on them.

- Better yet: they absentmindedly step out of the elevator (nearly) bump into someone. And when they look up, they completely freeze.

- Sparing Whumper the trouble of having to push them back into the elevator because they’re already backing away in complete disbelief <3

(The sampler platter of whump.)

Again, so sorry illness whump isn't my thing! Here's a random dice roll from the squick alternate list. Enojy!

.

[Prompts: Forgotten | Losing Controll | Near-Death Experience]

(tw: wow sorry this is a lot - suffocation/constriction, drowning, car accident, trapped, broken bones(hammer), nightmares, amnesia/memory repression, electrocution, needles, dislocated joints, knocked out, claustrophobia, slinking car, near-death experience, panic attack, restraints, strangulation, aggressive caretakeing, manhandling, relapse(?), therapy) .

Whumpee left Therapist's office, pissed as always. This was supposed to help - to make them remember - but all they ever did was re-live useless nightmares and ridiculous fears.

"It's all important," Therapist had said. "All those little pieces help to create the puzzle. One day, one of those pieces will bring something back."

They never did. The nightmares were just fear - falling or running. Screaming with no apparent reason. No real source, only pure, unbridled terror.

"Something happened to you. You just have to remember."

Well maybe they didn't want to remember. Maybe their brain had a good fucking reason for repressing the years when they had been missing. Maybe it was just amnesia. Did it really matter?

They were fine. It didn't matter what happened.

Except…it did.

Curiosity scratched at the back of their brain constantly, picking at a locked door they knew they didn't want to open. One they couldn't help but open.

They liked to think they spent those years off traveling the world. Meeting and falling in love with breathtaking people. Scanning the horizon every morning from the back of a fishing scow, sketching the sunrise. Maybe working in a sleepy coffee shop along the river in Italy. Running marathons and writing romance novels from a cabin in Maine. Maybe even doing some high-class spy work, fighting bad guys. That one made them smile.

They wanted to pick one of those realities. They wanted them to be true, but a voice from behind the locked door whispered they were wrong. It whispered that they should forget. Move on.

Instead, Whumpee picked at it like a festering scab. Ripping back layer after layer weekly with the useless therapist who did nothing but analyze what foods they ate or how much they slept.

They slid into their car, pulling out onto the road.

Maybe they should just chose one of the fantasies. Write it down. Draw it. Make it real. That was better, right? So what if they were missing years of memories? They could make more. Write more. Manifest more. They could write about sunsets and lattes. Long walks and notebooks. Morning fog and breathtaking adventures.

That was better, right?

That would be better.

The door in their mind scratched back, and they couldn't ignore it. They flicked off the radio, pondering. Who knows? Maybe they had just gotten lost, hit their head, and spent a few years hitchhiking back home. Making strange wonderful new friends and trying strange wonderful new foods.

But that couldn't be what was behind the door.

The doctor said they had experienced trauma. Whumpee had spaced out, letting the charts and words blur as the Doctor showed them photographs and x-rays, point at random places with their pen.

It didn't matter. It wasn't polaroid cameras and hot coffee. Those stories told nothing about adventure or peace. They didn't want those stories. They didn't want to hear the doctor's clues and guesses.

The door in their mind whispered back at them, raspy and echoing. It begged them to turn away. To write the stories and keep the door pinned shut. To forget about it and-

Whumpee's thoughts were cut off as a car horn blared. Their head whipped to the side, looking for the source of the commotion. They were in the middle of a bridge. A semi rolling toward them.

Whumpee gripped the wheel, frozen as the truck crunched against their car, breaking the barrier and sending them spiraling down toward the river. They screamed.

Whumpee's head snapped back against the headrest as the nose of their car crashed into the water.

"No no no no no..."

They instinctively put the car in reverse and stomped on the gas. No response.

Obviously. So fucking stupid.

The engine sputtered out. Panic started to wash over them.

Water lapped up the windows, splashing higher and higher as they sunk down...down...down.

Whumpee pulled against the seatbelt as the car tipped forward. Their hands fumbled for the lock, shaking and pulling at the buttons. It wouldn't give.

The belt constricted impossibly tighter around them as white-hot memories seared into their vision.

Whumpee's breaths came fast and shallow. Each one bruising more against the straps. Whumper chuckled. "You're so lovely when you're breathless. Not quite there yet, though". They had pulled and pushed at the ratchet straps so they pressed further yet into Whumpee’s rips.

Panic flooded through their body as their lungs pushed hard against the straps. They kicked their feet and flexed their fingers, but nothing came close to pushing the straps away. Their lungs burned, screaming for air that wouldn't come. Their diaphragm convulsed, trying to force it in, but their lungs were cemented together, unmoving.

They tried to scream. To beg. To cry. Nothing. Their vision slowly slipped away, spinning off with the rest of the world.

Whumpee gasped against the memory.

What…What was that?? What in th-

Ice-cold water tickled at their dangling toes.

No time to think. They needed to get out NOW. Whumpee found that, for a moment, they were grateful for the seatbelt - they could still breathe even if they could feel it bruising against their ribs.

But they could only feel the ratchet straps.

No longer grateful. They need it OFF. Now.

Whumpee pushed their feet against anything they could find, heaving themselves further back against the driver's seat. Their shaking hands found the buckle again. This time, it gave away.

Relief was short-lived as Whumpee slid forward, flopping down onto the steering wheel. The water was up to their calves now.

They turned toward the window. All they could see out it was murky water. It snuffed out the light, leaving a dim, grey haze. They glanced frantically to the back seat. Those windows were almost completely covered as well.

Whumpee pulled at the door handle, shoving as hard as they could.

The water was rising faster, but the door wouldn't budge.

"Come ON!" They shoved their body against it, kicking against the console to get more leverage.

Their wrist twisted painfully against the door handle, but they didn't let up, pushing hard and harder, trying to keep their breaths steady as the world spiraled out of control. Their wet hair plastered itself to their sides of their face. They shoved again, feeling a crunch in their arm. Their wrist screamed in pain as it snapped back.

"You think you're so tough? Think you can hit back? Let's see how well you can fight when these little bones are shattered." Whumpee pulled against the ropes uselessly as Whumper brought the hammer down again and again against the back of their hand. "Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of disfiguring those pretty little fingers. Those can stay."

They screamed as fire ripped up thorough their blood. The thud of the hammer. The tiny muffled cracks of bone. Screaming. Whumper's laugh. "One down, one to go."

What the hell!? Thick air puffed in and hour of their throat. It felt thin. Was the air getting thin? Were they running out already??

No. Stop freaking out. Push.

They shoved again against the door as water pooled up to their chest, splashing against their face. The door wouldn't move. It was suctioned back. They weren't going anywhere.

Whumpee panicked in full when the water moved up above their mouth.

Move. They needed to move NOW.

Whumpee scrambled, half stepping, half swimming up into the backseat. Their trembling fingers pulled up the lock and pushed against that door. It wouldn't move. Of course it wouldn't.

Their gasping breaths echoed against the windows and the water. The car was getting smaller by the second as the waterline rose. They crouched on the back of the driver's seat as the car tipped further down.

They shoved their face up into the back window, clinging to the pod of air there. They held themselves up, grip latched into the backseat headrest, feet planted firmly on the drivers seat. Even like this, they could hardly breathe. The air wasn't enough. Too thin. Too cold.

Their body shivered against the water. What seemed cool at first now set into their bones, ice and unrelenting.

Their legs kicked involuntarily, demanding action as the water crawled up their neck. Over their mouth. They forced their face against the window as the last of the air was ripped away.

Whumpee gasped, choking up water onto the floor as icy air burned their tender, shaking lungs.

"I think you're getting better with practice. Let's try for another minute. Take a deep breath."

"N-no!" Whumper cut them off, twisting them back down into the tub by their hair. Whumpee clawed and shook. Soap burned their eyes and they thrashed, inhaling it again and again until their vision started to slide.

Whumper ripped them up, letting them splatter onto the tile this time. "I'm disappointed in you. I know you can do better."

The scene was interrupted as a muffled crack echoed through the water. Whumpee felt a hand on their shoulder, yanking them toward the now-open door. They thrashed lightly against it, trying to move back to their small bubble. The hand yanked them back by the shoulder, down into the icy water.

Whumpee screamed at they heard the sickening pop. They writhed on the ground, gripping their arm. It was wrong. So wrong. They sucked in another breath and screamed again, the pain of it ripping up their throat, forgotten against the agonizing wrongness of their shoulder. "So dramatic. I can put it right back. No need to make such a fuss."

Phantom pain lingered in the socket as they twisted away from the car, towards the hand. Whumpee floated out, barely starting to kick upward towards the light before inhaling the murky brown water. They choked on it as it filled their lungs. They gripped the other person tight, trying to scramble up them towards the air. The world went black.

...

Whumpee sputtered to life on the bank, water bubbling out their nose and mouth. They rolled over and choked and coughed, expelling the burning liquid.

"Oh thank goodness," Rescuer said. They were kneeling over Whumpee, hand still on their chest.

Whumper's hands squeezed against their throat, shoving them harder down into the concrete. "Don't fight me now, you deserve this." Their head spun as they clawed at the hands.

Whumpee rolled over, away from Rescuer. They vomited over and over onto the wet grass. Choking and gasping as sweet, sharp air filled their lungs.

It hurt. Everything hurt. Their limbs were shaking, spasming.

Whumpee shifted, trying to stand. They managed to get to their hands and knees, sitting back on their heels.

"Go on, stand back up."

The remnants of electricity seemed to dance in their shivering muscles. They tried to force their shaking muscles straight, but their knees buckled underneath them. "Fine. Crawl like a dog for all I care." Electric fire ripped through them again as their screams echoed against the concrete walls.

"Geez, are you okay?" Rescuer asked. They reached out a gentle hand. Whumpee jerked away from it.

"No. Don't flinch. Never pull away from me." Whumper's palm cracked against their cheek, leaving a tingling burn.

Rescuer pulled their hand back, tentative. Their face was soft. Their eyes were full of concern.

"Are - are you okay?" Their face morphed into Whumper's. The voices echoing in Whumpee's head.

"Doing alright, there?" Whumper chuckled, fingertips brushed gently down their cheek. "Catch your breath, I'm nowhere close to done with you."

Whumpee scrambled to their feet, skittering away from Rescuer. They turned and started running up the bank, forcing their trembling legs to move. Shoving sharp, painful air into their raw lungs.

"Wait! The ambulance is that way! Where are you going?"

"Just where do you think you're going?"

Whumpee scrambled up the hill towards the road, voices spiraling in their head. Hands gripped their arms as they tried to sprint past the crumpled vehicles on the bridge. EMTs wrestled them back away from the screams and smoke.

"Hey! Stop-stop fighting me - you're going to get yourself killed. Just take a breath and calm down."

"Shhhh...calm down. Hold still and this will hurt less."

Whumpee thrashed against them, screaming.

"I'm trying to help you!"

"This will help you learn."

"Sedate them!"

"Lights out, sweetheart."

"No!!" They screamed, thrashing as something stabbed into their skin. Whumpee pulled and scratched against the hands as their vision slipped away with the rest of the world.

They tumbled into darkness, falling headfirst into Whumper's arms.

.

[My Whumptober Masterlist]

Whumper bringing a belt down across whumpee’s back, hands, legs, feet, or what have you.

If they’re feeling particularly brutal, whumper hitting whumpee with the buckle as well.

A belt being wrapped around whumpee’s neck and pulled tight, choking them.

Alternatively, belt wrapped around whumpee’s neck and used like a leash.

Belts used to bind whumpee’s wrists and ankles.

Whumpee breaking down and starting to apologize or beg whenever someone takes off their belt (be it caretaker or whumper) because they think they’re going to be hit.

Overlapping bruises in the shape of a belt buckle.

Swollen red welts in a criss-cross pattern.

A belt being put in whumpee’s mouth as a gag.

Alternatively, a belt being put in whumpee’s mouth for them to bite down on as their wounds are treated.

Belts being used as tourniquets or to hold a splint in place.

Belts used to strap whumpee to a table, chair, etc.

A belt pulled ever tighter around any body part, bruising, bursting blood vessels, maybe even cracking bone at some point.

Whumpee who ends up hating the feel of leather and the sound of jangling metal.

This hatred extending as far as anything with a strap and buckle, such as a watch, bag, saddle, etc.

Whumpee sobs, clutching Caretaker as blood sputters out their mouth. “Wh-Whumper please, they need help!”

Whumper grips them by the hair and rips them away from Caretaker. The other crumples to the ground, coughing.