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whumpingcrow · 3 years

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Pt.14 "Honeymoon"

CW: injury mention/description, unconscious whumpee, bondage, panic attack mention, memory loss, teeth pulling mention (brief, vague), drugs/alcohol, creepy/intimate whumper, death mention, gun mention (brief), abduction, car setting, airport setting, security guards, plane setting, plane crash discussion, tics/tourettes (pretty explicit), August needs his own warning (let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias felt heavy when he woke up, like his head was full of sand. He couldn't open his eyes for a moment, just heard distant, almost panicked voices. After a few seconds, he was hit with an onslaught of pain so bad that his ears were ringing and he could feel his throat closing up. After he adjusted to it (it never faded when it was this bad, he just was able to feel around it, live with it), he realized his hands were tied behind him and he was propped up on a chair. A groan slipped past his lips as he lifted his head up, trying with every last bit of energy to open his eyes.

"Ah, there he is," he heard someone say, "good morning, sweetheart."

"Don't fucking touch him!" That was Tyson, Elias recognized his horrified voice instantly. Why was he so upset? Who else was here? Why the hell couldn't he open his eyes?

"Come on, bunny, wake up." Now when the voice spoke it was accompanied by a hand on his cheek, and he whined at the soreness that lit up there when it was touched. He couldn't remember anything happening, He remembered, through the hazy memory of a panic attack, Tyson telling him that Allen and Leo were there, and then he left the room. Elias waited in the bedroom, standing numbly in front of the closet on shaking legs, trying to gather his thoughts as he pulled on a shirt. But then what?

He finally forced his eyes open, squinting up at the blurry figure in front of him. It took him a few seconds to focus, but when he did his entire chest lit up in a dull panic and he tried to snap his head away from his gentle fingertips against his skin. August only laughed. "Careful, don't hurt yourself."

Elias looked past August, and Tyson was tied up in one of the other kitchen chairs, looking just as beat up as Elias felt. "Oh god," he whimpered, dropping his head down in despair, "oh god!"

"Don't be so dramatic. Didn't you miss me?" August knelt in front of him, taking his face in his hands and smiling. "God, I haven't been able to get you off my mind."

"Please," Elias sobbed, "please stop, August. Please."

At those words, Augusts face softened, and he looked human, almost sad. Elias always felt uneasy when he did that, it was so hard to tell if the sudden affection and compassion was real or if he just wanted Elias to think he liked him. And Elias was stupid, because every time it made him confused and doubtful because how the hell could the person who had gotten so high once he tried to pull out Elias's teeth suddenly have emotions? Where did he hide them away, when he was torturing Elias like it was his purpose? August ran his thumb across Elias's face, wiping his tears away. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. That last day I...I never meant to go that far. I didn't mean to hurt you so bad. And I am so unbelievably sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

"You killed me!" He shot back. As soon as the sentence echoed back to him and he realized how he'd yelled, he snapped his mouth shut and braced himself as much as he could. He was surprised when August didn't hit him or get angry, only nodded sadly.

"I know. I'm so sorry, angel-"

"Get away from him you fucking asshole!" Tyson shouted again. August took a deep, aggravated breath before he stood straight, slowly making his way across the kitchen to Tyson. Tyson sat straighter as he approached, as straight and tall as he could with the ropes securing him to the chair. He tried to look brave, but he had seen the videos and the pictures, he had seen the aftermath of August's violence on both Elias and Allen, he knew the damage this monster could cause.

Elias watched on in horror as August swung, nearly knocking the chair over with how hard he hit Tyson.

"August!" He shrieked, pulling hard at the ropes around his wrists. "August stop hurting him!"

August tipped his head back, groaning in exasperation. Elias looked at Tyson, who was caved in on himself, trying to steady is ragged breathing. Elias couldn't help but think that it was all his fault, that if he had just stayed dead Tyson would not be hurting and in danger right now.

"Eli," August said, turning back to him. Elias flinched, looking up at him with wide, tearful eyes. "I can't stand being away from you, angel. It's tearing me apart."

"I don't...August, I c-cant..." He dropped his head down as a sob tore through him, squeezing his eyes shut. He gasped when August grabbed his shoulders hard, leaned away from him as much as he could. "P-please, August. Please stop this."

"I have to leave here, I'm going out of country until things settle down." He grabbed Elias's face, forcing him to look up at him. Elias finally opened his eyes as August smiled that warm, almost welcoming smile that always dropped Elias into a confused spiral. "I want you to come with me. I can make you so happy, Eli. We can be together all the time and be so happy. Remember how great it is to be together? Remember-"

"Don't listen to him Elias," Tyson pleaded, "he's lying to you, don't listen to him."

Elias sobbed when August started to pull away from him, knowing he was going to hurt Tyson again. "August, d-dont! Please don't!"

"Elias you need me!" August insisted. His voice had an edge of desperation, like he really was torn up about being away from Elias. "I know that you need me, you're doing horribly without me. I can see that and I know you can see that. Come with me."

"I can't. You...you're gonna hurt me and I can't...I can't deal with anymore pain."

August shook his head to himself, a look on his face that said 'you give me no other choice', then slowly pulled a handgun out of his waist band. "Suit yourself, then." He huffed, lifting the gun toward Tyson.

"No! No August stop wait!" Elias screamed, fighting hard against the rope, absolute panic coating every word he cried. "I'll go with you! Don't hurt him, please!"

August froze, then slowly lowered the gun. Elias felt a helpless sob tear through him and August sighed. "I knew you'd come to your senses," he tucked the gun away and stepped towards him to undo the rope around his wrists, "that's my good boy."

Elias stood on trembling legs when he was able to, clutching at August's shirt so he wouldn't fall. August looped his arm around him to help him stand, or just to touch him, it really could be either. The disgusting familiarity of the way August touched him made him want to cry.

"Don't do this, Elias!" Tyson cried, thrashing in the chair to try and free himself. He was losing Elias again, he was helpless and Elias was going to be hurt again and he couldn't do anything. It was agonizing to watch him limp toward the front door all wrapped up in August, leaning heavily against him. "Don't you fucking leave me!"

"I'm s-so sorry Tyson," he gasped, "I'm so fucking s-sorry."

Before either of them could say anything else, August pulled him out of the apartment and into a van. The second they were sitting down, Elias collapsed in on himself and began sobbing harder, his lungs heaving. August pulled him into his chest, holding him close.

"It's ok, bunny," he soothed him, "just breathe. You're alright."

It took him a long time to calm himself down, especially because every time he heard August's voice it sent him panicking again, but after awhile he pushed himself away from August and wrapped his arms around himself, looking out the window at the passing traffic.

"What happened to your face?" August asked, trailing his knuckles over his cheek gently. Elias tensed up, closing his eyes.

"It doesn't matter." He muttered. He wondered why August was asking that, didn't he send that man to the party himself, to hurt Elias? He probably just wanted to hear him admit to it, to describe what happened in detail. Elias bet that August would probably like that, the sick fuck, and so he didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't be like that, sweetheart. Tell me what happened."

With a huff, Elias retold the story, told him he knew that August had sent him, that it was painful, that he bled, all the grimy little things he knew August wanted to hear. By the end of it, he was shocked to see August looking rather displeased. He was silent, and it made Elias's skin crawl just as it always did, but then he sighed and forced a small smile onto his face.

"I'm glad you're here with me," he said, as if Elias had never said anything at all, "everything feels...right again." He glanced down at Elias, smiling wider at him. "Did you miss me?" He asked.

Elias looked up at him, a frown on his face. August didn't look any different than before, he was still handsome and clean shaven and unforgiving. His dark hair was slicked back out of his face, his dark blue eyes eerily flat, the smile he put on didn't quite reach them. In a way, Elias was glad he was seeing his face, that he didn't have to linger on the last memory of being choked to death anymore. "Yeah," he rasped out, "yeah, I did."

August smiled widely at him, it looked so genuine for a second that Elias felt a tiny inkling of relief. He was still rigid when August kissed him, but he leaned toward him obediently. It felt so familiar, his strong hand holding his face steady and his tongue slipping through his lips. "God, Eli, you have no idea how badly I missed you. It absolutely ruined me, what I did to you."

"I wanted you to," Elias admitted, "I was pissing you off on purpose so you'd kill me."

August chuckled, shaking his head. "Still, I shouldn't have taken it that far. I'm so happy you're still here."

Elias was surprised when they got to an airport, August definitely had balls, he had to give him that. He didn't know how he kept getting away with any of it, with getting out of jail and making it to other places with no issue. Even as they walked through security, he seemed relaxed and unbothered. Elias was more nervous than him, and he wasn't even the one in trouble. Even the security must've noticed his anxiety, because at one point one of them squared up to him, looking him up and down.

"How are you doing this morning?" One of them asked. She was short and stout, her voice firm yet sweet. Elias glanced over at August, who was seemingly making jokes with another security guard a few feet ahead of him.

"I've never been on a plane before," Elias mumbled, "I'm a little nervous."

She smiled warmly at him, watching in curiosity as he kept checking to see what August was doing, where he was. "Well you look like you're nervous about more than flying," she observed, "if you have anything to share with me I could take you to customs. It's more private."

Elias tensed, thinking for a moment about the offer. This could all be over if he just told her what was happening, she could call someone and August would go back to jail. But even then he wasn't sure it would end there, August had proven time and time again that jail wasn't going to stop him, and he didn't want Tyson to really get hurt. It was easier this way, to just go quietly and let August do what he wanted to him, at least then he would take all the pain instead of the people he cared about.

"No, I'm fine, thank you." He smiled weakly at her, then turned to see August watching them carefully. He thanked her again, then walked over to meet him.

"I hope you're not getting cold feet," he joked, "don't want things to get messy, do we?"

Elias shook his head quickly and leaned against him. "No, I want this."

August smiled at him, reaching out to pet his hair. "Thats good, bunny."

Once they were on the plane, Elias was even more nervous. His whole life he had been too broke to go anywhere, and he honestly didn't think he'd ever get the chance to go on a plane. And now that he was, he was with the worst possible person.

"What's wrong baby?" August whispered. He reached out and placed a hand over his leg. Elias looked at him, face twisted into a frown, and shrugged.

"Ive never been on a plane. I'm nervous." He frowned more when August chuckled softly and grabbed his hand.

"You'll be ok. I've got you." He sighed when Elias leaned his head against his shoulder, running his thumb over his hand. "You have no idea how terribly I missed you Eli. I missed holding you, I missed having you in my arms." Now he was whispering, his lips in Elias's hair as he spoke.

"You know, you did a really good job at making me repulsive. Tyson couldn't even look at me shirtless."

"You're not repulsive, little one. Not at all." He kissed his forehead gently as he spoke, brushing his hair back. "You are a work of art. Some people just don't know how to appreciate that."

Elias shook his head. "You're the only one that thinks that."

"I'm the only one that needs to think that." Now he grabbed at his hair, forcing him to tip his head back and look up at him. Elias usually would mind the aggressive contact that much, but with the engines blaring around him and already tight knot of anxiety in his chest, it only made his heart sink in his chest.

"August, please," he whimpered, before August could open his mouth to say anything, "please I'm so nervous already please don't grab me that way." He was surprised as August instantly loosened his grip, grabbing his face gently instead.

"So pretty when you beg like that," he hummed, "I missed hearing my name come out of your mouth."

Elias ignored the comment, instead dropping his head against his chest and closing his eyes.

He tried to sleep for the most part, but everytime he drifted off he was reminded of where he was and who he was with, and he woke up again with a new bout of anxiety. At one point he sat up and August was sleeping, and for a few moments he debated flagging down a flight attendant to help him. It wasn't worth it. Nothing was, at this point. Instead, he turned toward the window, peering down at the blue ocean under them. They were so high up, and so far away from anything. From Tyson.

At that, he started crying softly, covering his face to try and quiet his sniffles. It was so god damn hopeless now, he was going god knows where with the closest thing to evil he'd ever experienced, nothing mattered anymore, life might as well be over.

"What's wrong, angel?" August said, grabbing his shoulders gently. Elias let one muted, broken sob out, then curled into himself to try and stop any more. "Elias, what is it?"

"I'm so s-scared," he whimpered, "I'm terrified."

"We're ok, baby. We'll be there soon, we're perfectly safe." As he spoke, he stroked Elias carefully, trying to calm him down. When Elias shook his head, he realized what he meant: Elias was afraid of him. Not of being in the air, not of the plane crashing, but of being stuck with August. He sighed and pulled him closer, until his forehead was pressed against his shoulder. "I'm gonna be more careful with you, bunny. I know I was really rough with you before, I know better now. You've got nothing to be afraid of. I taught you so well, you can handle a little pain, I know you can."

Elias was silent, and August was suddenly furious with him. He'd spent all this money, not his own of course, and time and effort just to get him and take him some place nice, and now he wasn't speaking to him? And here August was, trying to comfort him. As if he was worth the wadted energy. His hands grew tighter, and just as quickly as he began to console him, his voice became a threatening whisper. "Where do you get off on being afraid, anyways? You said it yourself, I'm the only one who wants you. You don't get to be scared, I'm going to do what I want to you and you're going to shut the fuck up about it. Understand?"

Elias bit back another sob and nodded quickly, waiting for August to let go of him. When he didn't, he just closed his eyes tighter and tried to calm himself. He counted to ten, but he still felt like screaming, so he counted to twenty. Then thirty. Once he was up in the 50s, he began to tic. He jerked against August, whining softly as he did. This was the worst possible time and place for an attack, everyone would look at him, August would be annoyed and ashamed, he had no where to go and hide while he waited it out. He was trapped, and that only made everything worse.

"Son of a fuck!" He gasped, trying, and failing, thanks to his hands that just never wanted to be still enough to be useful, to cover his mouth to quiet himself. Tears were still spilling down his cheeks, his whole body was shaking with the effort of holding back more profanities or punching the chair in front of him as hard as he could, like he knew he would if he wasn't biting it back with everything he had. People had already begun to swivel around and stare at him. He wished he could disappear.

"Eli, calm down," August warned him quietly, "don't shout like that."

"I'm so- bitch!- I'm sorry." He was crying harder now, embarrassed and scared beyond belief. He wanted to break the window and fall to his death, just to be away from all the stares. He ticced again, ramming the heel of his hand against his skull hard, and whined at the pain. "God damn it!"

August must've realized what was happening then, because he wrapped his arms tight around Elias to hold him still, rocking him a bit. Most of the time, August didn't seem to give a shit when Elias was like this. Sure, when his friends came over and they all laughed and amused themselves with it, August would join in. Sometimes he would try to make it worse, try to make Elias as embarrassed and flustered and anxious as he could just so they could all laugh at him when he couldn't help the awful things he was shouting or the strange sounds that he didn't know he could even make or the ridiculous movements of his body that looked idiotic, August told him a few times. Other than those times, he didn't seem to notice or care about them. Only a few times, when it was painfully obvious that Elias was hurting because of it, had August ever comforted him through it. And thank God today was one of those times, Elias thought, as he qstarted saying, "You're ok, Eli. It's all ok."

Elias sobbed, grabbing at August's arm desperately, trying to gain a little stability. He ticced for a few more long, painful minutes, and then grew exhausted against August and his tics turned from violent outbursts to small twitches in his hands and neck. August loosened his grip gradually, then pulled away completely to look at him. He wiped his tears away gently as he inspected him.

"You alright?"

He only nodded in response, then pulled his knees up to his chest to hide his face. People were whispering around them, he knew they were talking about him. He wished they could just get to wherever the hell they were going, get this shit show over and done with in one way or another. Elias couldn't help but wonder if it would end the same as last time, with hands around his throat and edges of his vision dark and such a distant pain Elias wasn't even sure if it was considered his own. He wondered if August was telling the truth and really was going to be more careful and try not to hurt him. He wondered what Tyson was doing right then; he was hoping that he was getting him help and dreading that Tyson was maybe celebrating the fact that Elias was gone again. It took everything he had and more to convince himself that Tyson wouldn't do that, that Tyson loved him (for whatever reason) and wouldn't stop until he was home safe (again, Elias still really couldn't figure out why). After he was able to cling onto that tiny sliver of hope, that Tyson would at least try, he was proud of himself. He kept repeating it to himself in his head : "Tyson will try to find me, Tyson will try to find me" as they flew hundreds of miles further from home by the minute.

The plane began to descend.

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hellpark · 4 years

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GREGORY: I don’t quite like the wording of these questions I’m reading in Craig’s little virtual post box.

GREGORY: But lest he tries to foolishly answer questions not best suited for him, I will step in I suppose.

GREGORY: It’s clear he’s made a fine job of telling you all about my friends and I.

GREGORY: Or, quite possibly the very narrow light of which he’s seen us in at least.

GREGORY: Which is to say, he’s probably described us all rather poorly.

GREGORY: It is true, both Pip and Thomas both are nothing but kindhearted individuals.

GREGORY: Both have had their share of bullying, misfortune, and untimely deaths.

GREGORY: I’d say Pip’s I can relate to more, but Thomas’ just upsets me a great deal.

GREGORY: Not to rank either of their tribulations, I just believe I have a better grasp of exactly why Pip didn’t end up in heaven.

GREGORY: He’s had eight years to explain it to me, after all.

GREGORY: And so I will attempt to explain it to you all though what he has told me over the years.

GREGORY: They both deserve to have their stories told the correct way, and not however it would have been explained by the doltish owner of this weblog.

GREGORY: To start, I believe Pip started up in heaven.

GREGORY: Though, he never made it through the pearly gates, which is what truly grants you a pleasant and bright eternal afterlife.

GREGORY: Once you make it through that barrier, the only way you’re doomed is if you cause religious mishap, or truly gain some sort of evil intent.

GREGORY: Of course, this is only the Christian afterlife we’re speaking of.

GREGORY: And seeing that I’m possibly talking to possibly a baker’s dozen of strangers over the internet right now, I’d like to state that I have no outer knowledge of the afterlives of any religion other than my own.

GREGORY: I can say with certainty that a Christian hell is not the greatest source of outside knowledge, as much as it has progressed down there.

GREGORY: I feel as though these stories would be entirely different if the two had been risen under different minded households, so please spare some judgement on my part if this seems rather one sided of me to speak of.

GREGORY: So again, I am sharing only what I’ve been told of, and under a Christian mindset.

GREGORY: My intent is not to nullify any other afterlife, only to elaborate on my friends and I’s.

GREGORY: ...

GREGORY: I honestly forgot where I was.

GREGORY: ...Ah, yes.

GREGORY: Pip’s hellish status.

GREGORY: As I stated, once you make it through those heavenly gates, you’re officially a resident of the eternal life in the sky.

GREGORY: Normally, unless you are turned away for sneaky wrongdoings not seen through the watchful eyes of heaven, there is no issue getting in.

GREGORY: And for someone like Pip, the prior shouldn’t ever have been an issue.

GREGORY: All the time I’ve ever known of him-- through life and death-- is that he is kind, generous, and rarely wears a frown.

GREGORY: He gives his pleases and thanks, and he rarely acts unjust.

GREGORY: From the times he’s told me that he has, even those instances sound rather just.

GREGORY: My time knowing him alive wasn’t all too long, but a year or so before he had gone missing, never to be seen again.

GREGORY: He doesn’t like to talk about his own death very much, but from what I can tell it was certainly during a time of travesty.

GREGORY: And during such times, the gates can get overwhelmed and swollen with other unfortunate cases.

GREGORY: Certainly, everybody at their untimely death could not wait to see their afterlife.

GREGORY: Some sorrowful, some full of hope that the worst of it all was over.

GREGORY: From how he described it, Pip was more on the latter side of the crowd.

GREGORY: And so imagine...

GREGORY: When you think it’s all over.

GREGORY: When you think life has finally given you a break, and you’re able to move onto a better one...

GREGORY: That even up in heaven, there’s still nobody that cares enough about you.

GREGORY: A simple break in the clouds due to deceased overpopulation.

GREGORY: Nobody turns their heads.

GREGORY: Nobody thinks to look behind them and see what they’ve been ever so gently pushing back over their greed of a happy afterlife.

GREGORY: And greed is a sin, mind you.

GREGORY: So they just continue to shuffle their feet and wait for their now undeserved turn into heaven.

GREGORY: And the wings you sprout after death are there for your tiring travel upwards.

GREGORY: It’s an exhausting journey to heaven, your new wings wont fly you a second time until you’ve reached your destination completely.

GREGORY: So if you’re denied entry before you can make it through, there’s no real way to fly back up until it’s far too late.

GREGORY: In life, Pip was never destined to go to hell.

GREGORY: In death, he still was not destined to go to hell.

GREGORY: But look at where the carelessness of others have brought him.

GREGORY: Where life can be cruel, death can be just as much so.

GREGORY: ...Though...

GREGORY: Sometimes, while life and death may both sow their unjust seeds... a lot of what normally decides where you end up is your own actions in life, of course.

GREGORY: Thomas of course was nothing but a sweetheart.

GREGORY: From what he’s told me, though he couldn’t go to a church publicly due to his developed anxiety over his Tourette’s, he always made up for it by watching church service with his mother at home.

GREGORY: Every single Sunday, he told me.

GREGORY: Though like some people, especially in more depressing periods of their life, he began to question his faith.

GREGORY: There came a point where he didn’t know what he should truly believe in.

GREGORY: He never did anything wrong, as he always listened and obeyed the strict followings of Catholicism.

GREGORY: And though he was many things most extreme Christians would call sinful, he still would choose to believe, all that time.

GREGORY: In the end, none of what he was would have ever sent him to hell.

GREGORY: He truly is just too innocent and nice of a person.

GREGORY: Though sometimes, after traumatic experiences in life, it can kick your belief system like a switch.

GREGORY: After loss, it can be hard to believe.

GREGORY: And apparently loss for Thomas meant cutting out an entire part of his life that he had believed for fifteen years beforehand.

GREGORY: “How can you believe in a god if it feels like you’re only on Earth to suffer?”

GREGORY: It truly hurt my heart to hear him tell me the way he felt.

GREGORY: But in the end, it made sense why he was in hell.

GREGORY: Attaching yourself to faith for so long, believing in a god, then ditching a life worth’s of devotion in an instant.

GREGORY: That’s what truly damned him to hell.

GREGORY: In the end it was only that loss of faith that flipped his destiny upside down.

GREGORY: For a while, he was in such a state of grieving, you knew you were still in hell.

GREGORY: Hell isn’t what he believed it to be anymore, of course.

GREGORY: Most of us had grown used to it, and even enjoyed the new era we were living in.

GREGORY: But it still stung for him.

GREGORY: Only in hell could you still hear the wallowing of the afterlife.

GREGORY: And of course, he only blamed himself.

GREGORY: He did two things that society said would damn him to hell.

GREGORY: But only one of them was what really did it.

GREGORY: Of course he didn’t realise this.

GREGORY: He sobbed for what felt like weeks, because he thought that the way he died... was what sent him here.

GREGORY: We would constantly reassure him that the means of his death did not attribute to his afterlife.

GREGORY: We even had him talk to the Devil himself-- of which we’re fortunate friends of.

GREGORY: He, too, could only assure Thomas that it was not the way he died, but the way he chose to squander his faith.

GREGORY: It’s a harsh reality, and it’s unclear if he grasps it fully, even after a full year and a half.

GREGORY: I’ve always thought that if he had someone in life to help steer him in a better direction, he wouldn’t have gone out the way he did, nor would he have been sent to hell.

GREGORY: His ex certainly never did any good for him.

GREGORY: Even if Thomas claims his ex was the best thing in his life.

GREGORY: How could someone like that be the best thing in your life if they let you fall this far down a rabbit hole?

GREGORY: Thomas truly is as ignorant as he is pitiful.

GREGORY: We’re full of experiences that Stan and his friends would never, ever grasp.

GREGORY: I can’t believe this is a question that needed to be elaborated upon.

GREGORY: But if I’m not answering them, that fool of a man Craig would be instead.

GREGORY: I’m sure he’d paint Pip and Thomas both as monsters here.

GREGORY: But I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.

#south park #sp thomas #gregory of yardale #pip pirrup #tweek tweak #damien thorn #hellpark

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cptsdhellscape · 3 years

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Welcome to my CPTSD Hellscape. Block, don't retort.

DNI:

Minors

People who pretend to have/self diagnose physical and mental disabilities (besides autism, ADHD/ADD, and other minor and obvious things. If you're "self diagnosed" with DID, tourettes, EDS, fibromyalgia, or other "trendy" disorders, you're not welcome here. Munchausen's malingerers aren't welcome.)

Pro-eating disorder blogs, including ones who "just talk, they don't condone it". I'm in recovery and I don't want to see it.

Pedophiles, MAPS, etc. This includes POCD (I don't care if you don't like that, nobody wants to hear about it, at all.)

Transphobes, this includes TERFS, gender critical, enbiphobes, and detrans supporters.

Homophobes, biphobes, panphobes, etc. Bigotry is stupid and those aren't hills worth dying on.

Racists, antisemitics, cultural appropriators, etc

Antivaxxers or other anti-science idiots

Paganphobes

SWERFs. I'm a former fetish model, sugar baby, cam model, and adult actor who has lots of stripper friends. You don't need to be here if you hate us.

Ableists, including fatphobes, vegans, people who claim weed* or meditation cures everything, and people who stigmatize mental illnesses or disability

People who support or glorify the abuse of the following substances: heroin, Suboxone, methadone, opiates, crack, cocaine, methamphetamine, Adderall, Xanax, fentanyl, PCP, datura/Jimsonweed, Percocet, Vicodin, or pretty much anything else that you can overdose on

People opposed to the general use of medical cannabis (*it's not a panacea but it helps my seizures and chronic pain better than anything else I've tried so 🤷‍♂️ plus it's less dangerous than booze, so, if you're legal age and it's prescribed, who cares?)

Main trigger/content warnings and things I may talk a lot about.

All will be thoroughly tagged when they're brought up, and I try to not be graphic because, frankly, it's upsetting. Regardless, here's what I may post about in the future:

-my experiences as a survivor of repeated sexual assault, including childhood s/a, child on child s/a, and grooming

-my experiences with racism as a white passing mixed race person, including racism from my own family

-my experiences with hate crimes due to being LGBTQ+ including abuse from the detrans community and systemic abuse

-my experiences with emotional abuse, neglect, and gaslighting

-my experiences with pregnancy loss and fertility issues

-my experiences as a former addict, and my experience with losing loved ones to drug and alcohol addiction

-my experience with religious abuse, including s/a at the hands of a religious extremist group and religious hate

-my experiences as a former sex worker

-my experiences with disability and growing up physically and mentally ill

And lots of other really sensitive topics. I'll update the list at some point.

For my PTSD timeline (this is literally just a list of my trauma without many other aspects of my life. Discretion advised.):

If you want to donate to help with my treatment, or if you would like to donate to help me with writing my memoir, you can donate to the links below:

Cash app: $RaynerShyne

Venmo: coming soon

Wish list: coming soon

Shop: coming soon.

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carnalhaus · 4 years

Note

Infodump abt your proxy oc PLEASE

y’all r really abt to make me act up 😳😳😳 watch out ur gonna make me ramble about all my ocs and ur gonna have to sit thru all of it

but fr when people genuinely want to hear about my ocs my heart flutters, like i can’t fathom people actually liking my creations lmao (especially since i’m dramatic and put a piece of myself into each one) so thank u ❤️❤️ i’m not gonna go into everything rn but i will go on and on about random details, so without further ado here’s me infodumping about my proxy oc

her name is recess hill !! yes that’s her real name and it’s on her birth certificate, her first name is recess and her last name is hill (her middle name is genevieve !!)

her “code name” or “proxy name” is tagalong. it started out as a nickname but it just stuck.

she’s about 19 ? probably a little older at this point, but she was 19 when she went missing aka she became a proxy

she’s pretty quiet and mild mannered, but she always has a really intense expression. she’s usually pretty nervous, and gets jumpy when you do something like call her name, you always have to verbally let her know that she’s not in trouble. she’s trying to get better with it, considering she’s not held down by her mother anymore, but progress is slow sometimes. overall she’s a pretty sweet girl, just shy.

something special about her though is her unbreakable resilience, growing up the way she did leaves way for a lot of pent up anger, so even though she doesn’t show it often, she’s extremely stubborn and absolutely refuses to give up (that’s literally the sole reason she was chosen in the first place)

she’s very socially awkward but you can tell she’s doing her best, she usually comes off as overbearing because she tries so hard, but she loosens up a lot more once she realizes you’re being patient with her

she has tourettes !! yes that is absolutely me projecting, i felt lonely with toby being the only character i’ve seen that has traits like me, so i decided hey, what’s the harm in giving recess a little spice ??? she mostly has vocal tics where she says a word in a high pitched voice and sorta buffers. whenever she does it, she shakes her head to the side violently a few times and sometimes shoots out an arm or a leg. she gets a lot of neck pain from it but otherwise it doesn’t inhibit her or anything.

she doesn’t listen to girl in red but she DOES listen to bikini kill ... iykyk

her main weapons are a shotgun and a pistol. considering she was taught to shoot at a young age, she actually has pretty good aim. that doesn’t mean she likes shooting though, she would prefer not to hurt people but you gotta do what you gotta do when you’re being harassed by an unfathomable godless entity.

yes she’s part of the boys group. it’s not a romantic thing, it’s a familial dynamic. she’s the baby as well, so they’re kinda mother hens with her. well tim and brian at least, toby is more like her doting brother. with them she’s actually learned how to cut loose. (they found out she didn’t do normal kid things like rollerskate, trespass, have sleepovers, or watch cartoons, and they’ve been dedicated to helping her live a little ever since)

speaking of which, her “role” is to basically act as a vessel for the operators messages in a way. she’s the one that kind of puts orders into words. she gets these visions where her whole body goes rigid, her nose gushes blood, and her right eye flickers upwards. it’s scary for her and it’s scary to watch, but she’s not physically harmed much. she does get nightmares frequently because of it though, plus a lil dizziness from blood loss. she isn’t the strongest or the smartest, but she’s able to endure the mental toll that comes with experiencing those vivid visions, thus why she’s important.

she was raised in the middle of nowhere in the midwest by her conservative god-fearing mother in a little white house on a farm, she was homeschooled her whole life and was pretty sheltered

she had like one friend which is a girl who lived down the street named thea, thea’s dad was really sweet to her, he taught her how to play guitar, shoot a gun, fix a car, etc. since her mom wouldn’t let her (she thought that kinda stuff was too manly) and he’s the one who initially lighted that spark of rebelliousness in her

because of her mom, she only really owns dresses and skirts. she was taught that women should only wear skirts and all that bullshit, but even after she was freed from her mother, she kept wearing them. she felt that she shouldn’t wear skirts because she’s a girl, but because they make her comfortable. though when she doesn’t wear dresses, she wears baggy men’s clothing. it’s cozy and easy to find.

she rlly likes riot grrrl and punk rock type music, it was the only kind of music she was exposed to besides country. she wanted to be a lead guitarist and singer in a band one day when she was a kid.

her whole aesthetic is very heavily related to the kinderwhore style. i chose it for her bc kinderwhore basically represents taking the feminine good-girl aesthetic (something that tends to constrain a lot of women), and turning it into something to be empowered by. something that stood out to me while i was researching was the fact that these kinderwhore girls were described as confident, gruff, abrasive, loud-mouthed, and strong while they were performing on stage despite their feminine appearance. i felt like it fit her bc femininity is something that’s always loomed over her bc of her mother’s influence, so taking that aspect and subverting it is something that would help her grow more as a person (plus it just resonated with me personally bc i like being an angry woman lol)

if you want her general vibes, just look at 90’s kathleen hanna, courtney love, and kat bjelland, with a modern hint of nicole dollanganger

her entire concept is basically supposed to embody my personal struggle with womanhood. as a kid i was one of those girls that always hung out with boys, picked up worms, threw sticks at people, collected cicada shells, ran around in the woods, scraped my knees, etc, but i was also really girly. as i grew up, i was taught it wasn’t right for me to be dressing so feminine when i was so ornery and rowdy. as a result, i repressed that femininity. again, as i got older and learned from older women i knew, i figured out that nobody fucking cares, and i shouldn’t either. femininity shouldn’t be defined by gentleness and submissiveness, femininity can be whatever the fuck i want it to be. i wanted to channel all of that into recess, and use her to express a special part of myself while also throwing her into a fandom i love to bits.

in summary: midwestern farm girl turned gunslinging proxy in a vintage babydoll dress

#if u wanna actually know about her backstory and shit then like 👉👈 tell me #literally just ask me about whatever u wanna know bc god knows ill be more than happy to tell u #creepypasta #creepypasta oc #proxy oc #creepypasta proxy #using tags bc i might as well after typing all that out #its MY universe so I get to decide if the proxies are canon #its for the nostalgia guys #mine #asks #also dont mind any spelling errors or unfinished sentences its 2 am #recess hill #my ocs

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thereadingchallengechallenge · 5 years

Text

♿️Disabled Characters in YA♿️

The thing I’m most passionate about when it comes to books is finding positive, accurate and respectful representations of physical disability and chronic illness. So often when we talk about diversity we focus on race or sexuality but disabled people make up the largest portion of marginalised people with almost 1 in 5 people around the globe having some sort of illness or disability. Disability intersects with every other kind of identity but this group still goes underrepresented almost everywhere.

I’ve put an asterisk (*) next to books I’ve read and recommend and I’ve also marked which ones are #OwnVoices (a hashtag that was actually created by a disabled person - Corinne Duyvis, a YA author and co-founder of Disability in Kidlit). I’ve only included characters with physical and neurological disabilities as I’m planning a separate list for books about mental illness.

For more recommendations, check out Disability in Kidlit on their website or follow their reviews on Goodreads.

Unbroken: 13 Stories Starring Disabled Teens (numerous disabilities) #OwnVoices *

A Taxonomy of Love by Rachael Allen (Tourette’s Syndrome)

Six of Crows duology by Leigh Bardugo (cane-user, PTSD) #OwnVoices *

A Quiet Kind of Thunder by Sara Barnard (sign language users, mutism) *

Magisterium series by Holly Black & Cassandra Clare (limp) *

The Siren by Kiera Cass (sign-language users) *

The Love Letters of Abelard and Lily by Laura Creedle (autism & ADHD) #OwnVoices

One by Sarah Crossan (conjoined twins) *

On The Edge of Gone by Corinne Duyvis (autism) #OwnVoices

Otherbound by Corinne Duyvis (mutism, leg amputee)

Two Girls Staring at the Ceiling by Lucy Frank (Crohn’s disease)

Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman (limp) *

I Am Out With Lanterns by Emily Gale (autism)

Meet Me In Outer Space by Melinda Grace (auditory processing disorder) #OwnVoices

A Little Something Different by Sandy Hall (hearing loss) *

I Have No Secrets by Penny Joelson (cerebral palsy, autism) *

Girl in the Window by Penny Joelson (chronic fatigue)

Run by Kody Keplinger (visual impairment) #OwnVoices

Things I Should Have Known by Claire LaZebnik (autism)

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee (epilepsy) *

Not If I See You First by Eric Lindstrom (visual impairment) *

Five Feet Apart by Rachael Lippincott (cystic fibrosis) *

The State of Grace by Rachel Lucas (autism)

This Is Where It Ends by Marieke Nijkamp (lupus, uses mobility aids) *

Lucky Few by Kathryn Ormsbee (Type 1 Diabetes)

Kids Like Us by Hilary Reyl (autism)

Far From You by Tess Sharpe (chronic pain, uses mobility aids)

Forget Me Not by Ellie Terry (Tourette’s Syndrome, anxiety, OCD) #OwnVoices *

Queens of Geek by Jen Wilde (autism, anxiety) #OwnVoices

Odd and True by Cat Winters (polio, uses mobility aids)

More of my recommendations

#book recommendations #book recs #disabled characters #disability in kidlit #disability in ya #booklr #bookblr #trcc original

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autist-tips · 5 years

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Chronically ill/Disabled Youtubers

These youtubers have helped me through a lot of internalized ableism and self hate because of my diability and sickness. I wanted to make a list of them for anyone out there who needs positivity about their condition. (Or just positivity from another disabled/ill person.)

Beneath each youtuber’s channel name will be a link and a list of their disabilities/illnesses. I’ll also list if they’re part of a service dog team and what (if any) mobility/other aids they use.

If i miss something let me know!

Chronically Jaquie

Conditions: mitochondrial disease, narcolepsy, seizures, ASD, EDS, POTS, gastroparesis, dysautonomia, migraines

She had a service dog and used a wheelchair and a rollator. She also used a feeding tube and IV treatments.

Sadly, Jaquie passed recently due to her medical conditions. But her YouTube channel is still up.

Izzy Kornblau

Conditions: hEDS, POTS, gastroparesis, osteoarthritis, trochlear dysplasia

Jessica Kellgren-Fozard

Conditions: HNPP, deafness, blindness in one eye, scoliosis, CFS/ME, POTS, memory loss

She uses hearing aids.

Lexie Godbout

Conditions: PTSD

She has a service dog.

DissociaDID

Conditions: DID

Invisible I

Conditions: Aspergers/ASD, fibromyalgia, anxiety, depression, Tourette’s syndrome

She uses lots of sensory aids and works/has worked with sensory aid companies.

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writing-tips-archive · 5 years

Text

Tags List

Animals

Creature creation

Birds

Cats

Dogs

Injury

Blood loss

Broken bones

Bruises

Burns

Frost bite

Gunshot wounds

Self harm

Stab wounds

Mental Conditions

Addiction

ADHD

Amnesia

Anxiety

Anxiety attacks

Generalized anxiety disorder

Social anxiety

Autism

Bipolar Disorder

Delusions

Depression

Clinical depression

Self harm

Situational Depression

Dissociative Disorders

Depersonalization Disorder (AKA Derealization Disorder)

Dissociative Amnesia

Dissociative Identity Disorder (Formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder)

Other Specified Dissociative Disorder

OSDD 1a

OSDD 1b

Dysmorphia

Dysphoria

Executive Dysfunction

Hallucinations

Imposter Syndrome

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Panic disorder

Panic attacks

Personality Disorders

Antisocial Personality Disorder (Sociopathy)

Borderline Personality Disorder

Narcissistic Personality Disorder

Psychopathy

Psychosis

Schizophrenia

Tourette Syndrome

Trauma

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Physical Disabilities

Amputee

Blind

Deaf

Hard of Hearing

Paralysis

Scoliosis

Religion*

Buddhism (Indian)

Christianity

Hinduism (Indian)

Judaism (Jewish)

Islam (Muslim, Saudi Arabia)

Representation

Breaking Stereotypes -

Disabled characters - How to write disabled characters

Physical disability - About various physical disabilities

Fat characters - How to write fat characters

Female characters - How to write female characters

LGBT characters - How to write LGBT characters

LGBT Identities - About various LGBT identities

Neurodivergent characters - How to write neurodivergent characters

Mental conditions - About various mental illnesses/conditions

POC characters - How to write POC characters

POC cultures* - About various POC cultures

Mythological creatures

Religion

Skin tones - Help picking different skin tones

Discrimination

Ableism

Fatphobia

LGBTphobia

Racism

Sexism

Weapons

Guns

Knives

Swords

Writing Process

Beta readers

Editing

Inspiration

Motivation

Outlining

Publishing

Tips - General writing tips

Writers block

Other

Abuse

Emotional abuse

Mental abuse

Physical abuse

Sexual abuse

Alcohol

Black Market

Body Language

Character creation

Clothing

Colors

Descriptions

Drugs

Cocaine

Marijuana

Nicotine

Emotions

Fanfic

Fighting

Food

Generators

Language

Location

Magic

Makeup

Medicine

Memory

Monsters

Names

Plants

Plot

Prompts

Setting

Sound

Synesthesia

Tutorials

Vocabulary

World Building

Misc

Broken links - Posts with at least one link that leads to a dead end

Not specifically a tip - Posts that weren’t meant as a writing tip specifically, but could still be useful

Resources - Posts with one or more working links to other posts/sources

*I tend to have trouble differentiating between race vs. Religion vs. culture vs. nationality, etc. I have done my best to categorize things accurately but if I have gotten something wrong please let me know so I can fix it!

This list is not exhaustive! New tags may be added and things may be rearranged at any time!

Please tell me if a tag should be added or reworded to be more inclusive or respectful!

#tags list #resources

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docgold13 · 3 years

Note

Hi Doc, I was wondering if you could help me out. I get this thing where I get stuck on a phrase, like a record skipping. For example once I was planning out dinner and I found myself repeating "fry off the onions and garlic" over and over again. I couldn't think of anything else for several minutes. Sometimes I have to say it out loud, or write it down, more usually its just there in the back of my head. Is there a term for this so I can do some research? Not sure where to start. Thanks.

Hey there. That’s a tough one. There are a lot of different situations that can involve word repetition… I’m totally fine offering suggestions of where you might focus your research, but firstly strongly suggest you be mindful of medical students' syndrome - a condition frequently reported in medical students, who perceive themselves to be experiencing the symptoms of a disease that they are studying. The symptoms of many mental illnesses are so defuse and subjective, it can sometimes be like reading a horoscope.

Anyways, my first guess is that this is just a nervous tick that’s been accentuated by the highly stressful times we are all currently living with. I’ve found that most my own anxious quirks (knee bouncing, biting at my lower lip) have definitely gone up over the last several months... and all the folks I know who bite their finger nails have really been going to town on those nails of late.

In obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD), the compulsions (which can involve the urge to repeat words or phrases) are usually triggered by obsessive thoughts that the individual finds hugely disquieting and intolerable. Hence the compulsive actions act to kind of keep in check those intolerable thoughts. It’s worth checking out, but what you’re describing doesn’t especially sound like OCD.

Echolalia involves repetitive uttering of words and is a relatively common feature in the symptoms associated with the autistic spectrum. Again this is something with looking into but likely isn’t the right diagnostic term.

Another possibility is something called temporal lobe epilepsy. This might sound like a really scary term, but transitory temporal lobe seizures are actually not that uncommon (especially among young adults). These focal seizures don’t entail a complete loss of consciousness, but rather usually involve a sudden onset of really weird feelings - dread, dizziness, déjà vu, an altered sense of hearing, sight, smell, taste, and vision, as well as verbal difficulties (which can include word repetition). Once more, something worth investigating, but likely uninvolved with your repeating a phrase.

Palilalia a complex tic - a type of language disorder characterized by the involuntary repetition of syllables, words, or phrases. This is similar to Tourette’s disorder but less obtrusive and debilitating.

So you might look into all of these matters, but my number one guess is that you’re just coping with a lot of stress and anxiety and are just kind of brain-fried. I’ve been feeling similarly.

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diabolik-boys · 2 years

Text

AZUSA MUKAMI SCENARIOS

===============================

𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜! 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓎.

===============================

SFW:

S/O’s birthday

S/O confessing

Male S/O confessing

S/O taking blood thinners

S/O that is chubby

S/O with migraines

S/O with anxiety

S/O on their period

S/O sickness/pain disorder due to period

S/O with terminal illness / cancer

S/O with autism

S/O that is a different race

S/O who uses sign language / is deaf / or is mute

S/O coming from an abusive family

S/O who is transgender FtM

S/O who is concerned about their weight

S/O getting attacked for being LGBTQIA+

S/O who is overly submissive

S/O who is taller

S/O who is a smoker

S/O with short-term memory loss

S/O proposal

S/O having allergic reaction

S/O who has Tourette’s Syndrome

S/O being flirted with...

S/O as a traditional vampire

S/O injured

S/O with powers

S/O becomes pregnant

S/O wanting to adopt

S/O sacrifices themselves for him

S/O not being Eve / Adam

S/O with amnesia

S/O lied about being a vampire hunter

S/O speaking a second language to their child

S/O who can understand animals

S/O taking blood thinners

S/O who can speak to / see ghosts

S/O who is sweet & innocent

S/O who is a crybaby

S/O who is a singer

S/O who is an adrenaline seeker

S/O who is a yandere

S/O who is sadistic

S/O who instinctively flinches away a lot

S/O who wants to brush his hair for them

S/O who dyes his hair pink as a joke/prank

S/O who is drunk

S/O arguing with / suddenly cussing at him

S/O arguing with someone else

S/O being caught dancing in room

S/O who acts aggressively cute

S/O working themselves too hard

S/O who is a succubus/incubus

S/O who makes a painting of him

S/O who is a fae/fairy

S/O who is a demon slayer

S/O who is a werewolf

S/O trying to show wedding attire to him

S/O who is sassy / a bully

S/O who writes their feelings instead of talking

S/O conspiring with KarlHeinz

S/O hired by Heinz

Heinz trying to kill his S/O

Heinz first time interacting with his S/O

S/O coming from the Sakamakis

Seeing S/O after a long time

Reincarnation with S/O

Jealous of S/O

Being broken up with by S/O

Florist S/O

Being raised in a healthy environment

Has a demon sister altered by Karlheinz

Embarrassing himself in front of crush

When Azusa is assertive

At school

At the club

In a band

In a KPOP band

In a circus

At the beach

Owning a pet / exotic pet

Guardian of a child

Taking care of their child

Child coming out as LGBTQIA+

Their child being bullied

Child starting to teeth

Playing hide and seek with his child

Hearing their child sing

Has a long-lost child

Daughter dating someone

Leader of project at school

Long-term relationship with Yui

All of the boys in love with Yui

Yui giving a gift for his birthday

Yui being assertive

Yui being affectionate / motherly

Yui as an assassin

Yui dressing in gothic style

Yui / S/O giving him a photo album

Brothers’ reaction to someone crushing on Azusa

Ask me some more~

NSFW:

Talking dirty to S/O

S/O spanking/groping him

Ask me some more~

Most to least:

Admin likes

Appearance routine

Ask me some more~

Ships:

Azusa seeing Kanato talking to someone else...

Azusa and Kanato on a zoo date

Azusa as the step-parent for Kanato’s child

Sakamakis opinions of him dating Kanato

Ask me some more~

===============================

AZUSA MUKAMI HEADCANONS HERE

#azusa mukami #azusa #mukami #diabolik boys #diabolik-boys #diabolik lovers #sfw #ask #headcanon #hc #scenario #diabolik lovers ask blog #masterlist #masterlists

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doctorajoy · 5 years

Photo

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cherridrpepper-blog · 7 years

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Now Presenting: Acceptance

Ticci Toby x Reader 1'197 Words Acceptance. You knew plenty about this subject, and how more of it was needed in the world. Your mind raced almost as fast as your heart beat looking down at the small stack of notecards on it were keynotes and facts that you would soon spout out for your presentation. Oh god. Why did I offer to do this presentation, I hate presenting! You mentally scold yourself for putting this on your shoulders but looking back at the photo on top of the stack, you remember why. You remember all the names, all the rumors, all the depression, and crying, and fear. You remember how scared he was every day at school or going home. You remember how much he hated himself for what he couldn't control. Tears threaten to fall as the memories penetrate your thoughts and flow through your mind until you hear your name. "Miss {y/l/n}?" Your head jerks up and you look like a deer caught in headlights, your cheeks heat up at the laughter that echoes from student to student, hardly acknowledging the few sympathetic looks as you grow more embarrassed "Miss {y/l/n}, your presentation?" Your heart beat speed again and you stand, legs wobbling a little as you smooth down your floral dress and take those first steps towards the small stage in the cramped theatre. It becomes increasingly hard to breathe as you get closer and closer to the stage, the stage lights feeling like flames on your skin that is littered with goosebumps reminding you once more just how scared you are of presenting. The laughter subsides as you find yourself in the center of the stage, the microphone being lowered for you to speak into it, your stomach churns as it makes a loud screeching sound, knowing that sound will replay in your head over and over during this presentation. You mutter a thank you as the principle walks off stage and sits down, all eyes on you as you stand under the burning light in your floral dress, hair up, and already ready to cry. Your breath hitches in your throat before words leave your tongue hoping to reach the ears of your peers. "Hello. As most of you know I am {y/n} {y/l/n}. Since a very young age I have gone to school with the majority of you, and as most of you aren't my friends we all still know each other somehow. Usually, that's from being together. As many of you know, I'm a bit of a clutz. In fact, some of you here have called me ditzy and told me I'm a clutz, and that's how you know me, ditzy {y/n} and her babbling baboon friends. Once I had a friend, his name was Toby, you called him Ticci, Ticci Toby. Why? Well because he ticked, of course. Everyone that called him so knew why he ticked, and twitched, and blurted, and flinched, and any other thing. My friend Toby... He had Tourettes. None the less, he was attacked. He wasn't accepted simply because he was different. He didn't choose to be. I didn't choose to be clumsy, Allison didn't choose to be blind, none of us chose this. You all treat us like we did, but that's not the case. See, the word we're looking for here is acceptance. You don't accept us because of something we can't control. We aren't that different from you. I heard some of you talking about that new Avengers movie, you said you liked it, well guess what... I liked it too. I like cookies, and waffles, and games, and animals. I think school is boring. I think Chris Hemsworth is attractive. I think the same way you do, but I have a little trouble walking and that's okay, you have a little trouble accepting that. You know what isn't okay?" You swallow thickly looking out at the faces of the students, the ones that reflect back boredom and annoyance, the ones wishing you would get off the stage. "What's not okay is that, because he wasn't accepted, my friend killed himself." Nothing had ever hurt you more than to reflect on this loss. The loss of your best friend, the loss of the boy you had grown to love. Hot tears started to leave your eyes as you looked down at the long forgotten notecards, at the photo of you and him taped on top. As reality came full force on you once more your voice cracked as you spoke "His house was burnt down, and he was gone. Toby Rogers as I'd known him was the nicest boy, he didn't hate anyone, the world just hated him and for what? He twitched." A new found confidence coursed through you as bored looks turned to surprised guilty looks, murmurs of annoyance became comments of disbelief. "So don't you think, maybe now is a good time to stop. Maybe now is a good time to look back and start accepting people as people and not as creatures with deformities? Maybe, just maybe, now is the time to put an end to stories like Toby's?" Your calm and hurt speech had turned to anger, to demanding for a new view, tears blanketed your view as the principle returned to the stage walking your trembling body from the stage and to the hallway as you cried, the chatter in the theatre becoming louder as you left. You hardly noticed as the principle walked away back to the theatre. As you calmed you swore you saw someone leaving quickly, as if trying not to be spotted, and despite your better knowledge you followed. you followed all the way until you exited a door that lead to a parking lot without a soul in sight. Shaking your head you determined it was simply your mind playing tricks on you and turned back inside. The drive home from the school was filled with questions on how it went and apologies that your parents couldn't be there, but you didn't answer, you were lost in thought wondering if you really had seen someone. Looking out the window you could have Toby a few times, but you were sure it was just because you were thinking about him. After all, he was gone right. Right? After dinner you washed up real quick and went to bed, your thoughts still swimming about the presentation, about Toby, about the fleeing figure and seeing Toby in the car. I can't believe I'm letting myself do this, he's gone. And you almost would have believed yourself if it wasn't for the box on your windowsill with a sticky note consisting of a crudely drawn smiley face and a pine cone partially painted your favorite color. You couldn't place why these items told you he was still out there, but they did, and nothing had ever made you happier. That night slept with the photo under your pillow and the pine cone on the bed next to you, and a smile on your face for the first time since the night you thought you lost him. I love you, Toby Rogers.

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whumpingcrow · 3 years

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Pt.19 "Out of the Fire"

CW: captivity/pet whump, memory loss, drugs/alcohol (explicit), party theme, noncon/dubcon (explicit), tics/tourettes, blood/gore, injury description, mouth whump, restraints, August being nasty, emotional abuse/gaslighting and the aftermath of that, multiple whumpers, pocket knife used as a weapon (let me know if i missed anything!)

What was his name? Elias couldn't remember it, he could taste it on his tongue and hear it like a distant ringing in his ears, but when he tried to say it he always came up blank. He knew the face, he remembered his voice a little, he knew that when this nameless person popped into his head it was always with pleasant memories. But his name? It was diminished to nothing, not even an echo, just a blank slot where something once was.

His own name he knew, even if no one used it anymore. Elias, or Eli, sometimes. But even if that was his name, it wasn't who he was, not anymore. Now, he was “Bunny”, he was “sweetheart”, he was “pet”. August had turned him into nothing more than those words, and everyone around them followed suit. All of the lavish people who showed up to August’s parties reinforced that these names were all that he was, now. And there was nothing he could do about it except stare down his bloodied and mangled reflection and whisper his name to himself when he was alone. His cracked, bleeding lips moved almost soundlessly as he repeated his name, then he could taste tears when he murmured the name of the city he had to get back to.

"Elias," he whispered (he had to make sure it was never above a whisper because August was drunk all the time lately and had been jumping at the chance to punish him for any little thing, and he couldn’t risk being hurt for being loud), "Elias, you have to remember Los Angeles. You have to get back to Los Angeles to be with...to be...with… Fuck." Yet again, the name slipped his mind right as he tried to speak it. The idea of this person he missed was just a face. No Name.

A knock on the door startled him, and he hastily wiped the tears from his cheeks and the residue from the words off his lips, then opened the door. August stood there, looking him over with his lip caught in his teeth. It was hard to tell if he was sober or not, his eyes were shadowy with something, but sometimes being inebriated and being a shitty person with shitty motives could look about the same. Elias bit his tongue hard so he wouldn’t slip up and yell something like that right in August’s stupid face. This was becoming a habit, his tongue had scarring on it by now. Most of it was from himself, from physically biting back tics so that August wouldn’t use it as an excuse to hurt him. The rest of the scarring was closer to the back of his tongue, and even thinking about where he got it from made him sick to his stomach.

It was the reason why he made such great effort to stay quiet, why he was so afraid of opening his stupid mouth in front of anyone, especially August. Even accidentally brushing the scar against his back molars always made him vividly remember how much blood there was, how loud he had shrieked. The entire scene was soaked through with actual, pure violence, and Elias was horrified of August even more after it.

Elias had been high, like always, and nervous, because August had friends over. They weren't immediately familiar, but August had told him that he'd met them before, and that made Elias wonder if they'd been at one of the parties, if Elias had entertained them. He couldn't remember, though, and he was left jittery and ticcing, the coke August had given him certainly wasn't helping his case. And then August was next to him, with his smug smile and his evil hands, and Elias hardly even processed himself shouting "you cocksucking faggot!" until it was too late. Until August was pushing him to the ground to crawl on top of him, pulling his small pocket knife out at the same time.

"I told you not to speak to me like that, you slut!" August was screaming at him. Elias would've tried to apologize, if August wasn't shoving his fingers into Elias's mouth forcefully. Elias choked on his hand, then the metallic taste of the blade was on his tongue, and then he was screaming, thrashing under August desperately. August had warned him before that he'd cut his tongue out if he misspoke, Elias just never thought he was cruel enough to actually do that. And yet, here he was, trying to cough up the blood trickling down his throat around his mangled screams.

August would've kept going if he'd been allowed to, but at some point one or two of August's guests realized the severity of the situation and bolted up to rip him off of his poor pet. There was blood all over the both of them, on August's hands and arms and face, and Elias's entire front half was soaked. His tongue had a deep, jagged slice across it in the back, if August had kept going there was no doubt in his mind that Elias would've lost the entire thing. That took a week or so to completely heal, and since then Elias had tried everything he could to be quiet and well behaved.

"You feeling ok?" August asked him, even though his tone was exactly the opposite of caring. August had started to resent him, now, he was so far gone that he wasn't fun anymore. He was reduced to pure submission, a shell of a person that couldn’t be filled anymore. He didn’t scream and cry and fight quite like he used to, and August was more or less pissed off he had to deal with the aftermath of the damage he caused. Sometimes, though, he could get a reaction out of Elias, if he was in the mood to really mess him up. But that was typically draining for the both of them, and August didn’t enjoy cleaning up after himself, so mostly it was reserved for special occasions.

Elias prayed that this was not one of those special occasions.

"Yes, sorry," he replied. The words sounded so...dry, even in his own ears. He didn't have any more passion or emotion to put into them. He felt like he needed a nap, a nice long nap with silk sheets and feathery pillows and the whole mattress to himself with absolutely no unwelcome hands grabbing at him. He scolded himself, reminding himself that he wasn't allowed to want things. August was making sure that was one rule Elias really understood. Above everything else he was taught, the idea that desire was above him was the most easy to sink into. His entire life he'd been unlucky and disappointed when he didn't get his way, but really it had just been because he didn't deserve his way. And as for thinking about a nap, luxurious and soft and alone, he wasn’t worth any of that, and he was so lucky that August miraculously thought he was pretty enough to share a bed with, to touch whenever he wanted. He was lucky, he was in this beautiful place, he was sometimes allowed to go stand at the edge of the ocean and let the water come up to his shins, August shared his expensive drugs, and occasionally he held him closely, arms tight around him, and called him very sweet names. Yes, he was very lucky. He just wished he actually felt lucky, it was getting rather hard to keep trying to convince himself that any of this was pleasant when he felt like he had swallowed one of the circles of hell and now was the host of all of that evil and pain.

August let out a heavy sigh, his annoyance tangible. The fear that buried into Elias's chest at just that simple, scornful sigh was slightly muted from how exhausted he was, but still there nonetheless. It always was. "I'm having people over again tonight, I'll have to put you away."

Elias could sob at the words, at the knowledge that he would be back in the cold room downstairs, with the chains. After the first party, when August was angry at him for allowing all those people to use him, things were fine for a bit. They didn't have people over for awhile after that first time, August would instead opt for dragging him along to clubs or bars. When August finally did decide to have people over, it went south yet again. It was alright for a while, Elias sat quietly and looked out the window at the waves lapping at the beach, pretending he was out there instead, as August spoke to his guests about whatever it was they were talking about in words Elias couldn’t understand. And for whatever reason, when Elias felt fingertips brushing against his collar and turned his attention away from his land of make-believe, August wasn’t the one touching him. Elias really didn’t know how to make them stop this time, his begging was more desperate and he cried harder than ever, yet they never let up. August was even more furious that time.

So, he decided that Elias would be banished to the basement anytime he had people over. That horrible basement, with the horrible chains and the horrible dark and the horrible loneliness.

"August please don't put me down there," he whined, dropping his head down in fear that he would be slapped for arguing, "please, I'll be good. I won't even look at anyone-"

"It isn't about you, Bunny," August cut him off, grabbing his shoulder with a shocking tenderness, "you're always good. But other people aren't, and I can't risk that. Don't worry, I'll give you stuff to keep you busy."

Elias cringed hard, squeezing his eyes shut with a tiny huff. He didn’t want to argue, really he knew that this was just a surefire way to get hurt, but he couldn’t stomach thinking about being taken down that dreadful staircase another time. "It's so cold down there...I don't want...please, please August..." Before he could keep begging, he was pulled against August's chest tightly, he could feel August trace his palm over his shoulder blade.

"It'll only be for a little bit, sweetheart. Now quiet down."

And that was that. August gave him a few shots of Grey Goose and some weed and then walked him down the stairs, hooking up one of his wrists to the chain on the wall. "Stay here, nice and quiet," he was told, and he could only watch hopelessly as August made his way back up the stairs.

He was thankful for the muted sound of the music upstairs, it at least gave him something to focus on. He leaned heavily against the wall, trying not to think too much about the soft aching spreading through his legs from standing too long. It was even harder when the fatigue began to mix with the alcohol and he had to put in great effort to stay upright. He was miserable, and he found himself missing being able to interact with people at the party, even though the interaction was always vile and agonizing. At least if he was upstairs someone would touch him, would look at him, would acknowledge him. If he were upstairs, he would exist to someone besides himself. Down here he was nothing, he wasn't real. In the basement he was neither person nor pet, he was just...not there. And it frightened him more than August or the strangers upstairs.

He flinched hard when the music swelled suddenly, pushing himself off of the concrete wall to peer up the stairway, watching the shadow of a pair of shoes hesitating on the top of the steps, light flooding in past them. Was August going to let him come up? Did someone figure out he was down here and came to use him? He felt like maybe he'd be ok with that, it had been hours and the boredom was hurting him more than anything.

"Elias?" A woman's voice called. His chest tightened uncomfortably at the sound of his own name, having been the only one to use it lately, and the chain rattled as he stumbled over a bit. "Elias are you down here?"

"Y...yes." he answered, his voice wavering nervously. As soon as he did, the door closed again and her footsteps were bounding lightly down the steps toward him. When he saw her familiar red hair he sucked in a shaky gasp of relief. "C-Camille?" He whispered.

She looked him over, at the chain his arm was dangling lazily from and his battered and bruised skin, sighing in disdain at his state. She had felt bad before about taking so long to come back to him, and upon seeing how much worse he was since the last time gave the guilt an extra reason to eat away at her. "Jesus christ what are they doing to you?" She muttered, setting down her bag as she approached him.

"I forgot you...I didn't think you'd come back." When she reached out to grab his arm to inspect the lock of the shackle, he flinched back and closed his eyes. "Shit, sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's ok, darling. We have to go, though, there's not much time." As she spoke, she pulled at the metal around his wrist, groaning to herself when it didn't immediately come undone. "One second, wait here." He watched her turn on her heel and sprint back up the stairs.

Elias closed his eyes, swaying where he stood and trying to get his racing thoughts together. They were leaving, she was taking him home to that nameless face that he missed like an organ that he'd had forcibly removed. No more August, or parties, or basements. But it seemed so impossible, he'd been here for so very long that the idea of a world, a life, outside of it was mostly unimaginable. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he felt like he did need August, to some extent. He hated his guts, sometimes so viciously that Elias was shaken to his core by the violent thoughts it caused, but he needed him nonetheless. Elias was broken now, shattered glass, and August had done it so he was the only one who knew how to handle it. If he left, he feared that he would just stay broken and No Name wouldn't be able to even touch him without hurting himself, too.

His thoughts were cut short as the door opened again and Camille came back down, a second pair of steps behind her. An older man was following close, they were talking to each other in French, and Elias was immediately uneasy at not knowing what they were saying about him. They approached him, the man reached into the bag he was carrying as they got closer.

"Who is that? What's going on?" Elias rushed, shuffling away from them as much as he could, but the wall was closer than he thought and his shoulder thudded against it hard.

"It's ok, Elias. This is my older brother, he's going to help us get on a plane. You can trust him." She threw a nervous look over her shoulder to the staircase, grimacing a little. "I know you're scared, but we have to go now. August is distracted now but I don't know for how long."

Elias took a deep breath, using his free hand to rub the stress out of his eyes. "Ok," he groaned, "fuck, ok."

Camille's brother took her place in looking over the restraints, and it only took him a few moments to figure out the thin lock and free his arm. Elias couldn't help but stare up at him with wide eyes, shocked and nervous at the idea of not being chained up.

Camille began to pull out clothes from her bag, looking over Elias's slender frame with a frown. "Can you get this on? I can help if you need."

Elias shook his head, taking the hoodie from her and slipping it over his head, then he put the hat on that she handed him as well. The brim was wide enough to droop over the top half of his face, and he was relieved to be hiding behind it.

"Ok Elias. Ok. Alright." Camille seemed rather frazzled, and it wasn't making Elias's own nerves feel much better. "How are you to walk? Can you make it up with us to the car?"

"I can walk." His voice was just a mumble, he knew if he allowed any of the emotion he felt into his voice he would freak out.

The walk up the stairs felt unsteady, each step seemed uneven and rickety, and he was dizzy by the time they got to the top. "Camille?" He whispered, reaching out to grab the wall to right himself. "If he...if August sees me leaving he'll flip out. He'll kill me."

"We're not going to let him touch you, ok? I promise, we'll get you out of here. But we have to go right now."

Elias whined a little, then nodded his head and followed her. He was thankful when she reached over and took his hand to hold him closer, it made it easier to push through the people without looking up. The party was buzzing still, the light chatter, laughter, and music felt near suffocating. It felt like the time August's friends tied him up and shot at him while he was drowning, each step was a kick towards the surface, a desperate fight for fresh air. This time, though, when he was suddenly walking on the gravel of the driveway he wasn't bombarded with pain and more atrocities, just fresh air and the night sky. The music faded quickly behind them, and he relaxed his hand against Camille's, unaware he was gripping it so tightly. He was...out? Now the collar on his throat seemed constricting, more so than usual, and he felt his hand jerk up to grab at it, to make sure it was still there.

They approached a black sports car, and Camille held the door for Elias as her brother got into the front seat. She crawled in after him, then watched anxiously out the window until her brother had the keys in the ignition and was starting the car. Elias looked out the window as they sped away from the house, watching it get smaller. He looked until he couldn't see it anymore, and then he slowly turned to face forward, staring blankly at his hands. He didn't even feel tears falling from his eyes until Camille reached over and grabbed his hand gently, mumbling "are you ok?" when Elias turned to look at her. The question made him break, collapsing in on himself in a fit of muted sobs. Camille was quick to pull him against her, holding him close and running her fingers through his hair and down his back with such comforting softness that Elias wondered how it could be real.

The car ride to the airport seemed shorter than when August first got him here, because soon the three of them were walking through a near empty building, their shoes scuffing against the linoleum offensively loud. The bright lights bothered Elias, and he pulled his hat lower over his face to ease the discomfort. They walked up to the largest desk Elias had ever seen, a detail that he couldn't find any importance in but that was still intimidating. Then he realized that everything was intimidating; the desk, the floor, the lights, the people. Camille spoke to the woman behind the desk, pulling out a few papers and pointing back to Elias as they talked. He wondered if they would tell him he couldn't fly back home to Los Angeles. Where would he go then? Back to August? Because really, besides No Name, he didn't have anyone else. He watched them talk with his hands twitching nervously at his sides.

When they seemed to reach an end to the conversation, Camille thanked her and began to lead Elias away. Her brother didn't follow. Elias didn't know if he wanted to be alone with her. For probably the first time since she approached him at the party, Elias didn't know if he could trust her. He wanted to, there were some days, when August was particularly rough, that the only thing keeping Elias alive was the hope that Camille would come save him. But now she was saving him, and he realized all at once that he hadn't even thought about the possibility that this might be a trick, that maybe she would send him somewhere that would only ruin him further. It didn't help that the only information he had was that they were in an airport and he was supposed to be getting on a plane home, but everything else had only been said in French and Elias was left relatively oblivious.

"Camille?" He tried, his voice small and shaking. "What's going on?"

She stopped walking for a second to look at him, her face falling from it's tight frown to a saddened smile. "Sorry. Let's take a second to breathe, you and I. This is a lot, isn't it?"

He nodded along with her, forcing himself to take a deep breath. They did this until Camille seemed satisfied, then she cleared her throat. "I'm walking you to a plane right now, there will be flight attendants and security sitting close by to watch you. Once you get home, you'll have an escort to take you from the plane to a hospital, and then you can go home."

Elias blinked at her, at how plainly she put it. "It's that easy?" He whispered.

She laughed a little, a lighthearted sound that made Elias feel much better almost instantly. "It will be, now."

Once they were at the gate to the plane she was sticking him on, Elias was shaking, but this time mostly in excitement. After Camille's reassurance, he realized that this meant safety, freedom, and he couldn't wait to get on the plane. Camille was standing at his side, eyes darting over the few people around them skeptically. At one point she looked over to see Elias bouncing on the balls of his feet, and she felt like an idiot when she saw he was still wearing that damn collar. She figured he would've taken it off himself once they were out of the house, but it was still tight around his throat. She coughed a little to get his attention, then once he was looking at her, she pointed to the collar.

"Do you want help taking that off?" She offered. She watched him reach up to feel what she was talking about, fingers brushing tentatively over the leather like he didn't actually want to touch it. He gave her a reluctant nod, holding his breath when she stepped toward him.

He felt unbearably naked once the collar slipped off, his skin felt over exposed and cold in its absence, and he surprised himself when his vision was clouded with tears. Camille asked if he was ok, which he responded to only by stepping forward and wrapping his frail, banged up arms around her.

"Thank you, Camille," he whimpered, "thank you so much. I can never repay you."

Camille smelled of flowery perfume as she hugged Elias back with more strength than he would expect her to have, slightly crushing him in the friendliest way. "You don't have to thank me, Elias. Just...you just stay safe now. Go home and take care of yourself." She pulled away from him and wiped his tears away, Elias frowned when he saw she also had started to cry.

The plane boarded after that, Camille walked Elias all the way to the door, handing over his ticket for him and then hugging him once again as a goodbye. He thanked her again, a million times, then he allowed one of the stewardesses to lead him down the long hall to the plane, to home, to relief.

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