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youwantedavillain · 1 year

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Reva, the Screaming Banshee who Enables and Encourages Slander (part 2)

Continued from part 1....

Now pay attention, my dear readers, because this part is gonna be brought up later on! We have already talked about the fact that I am also a victim of stalking and dogpiling in real life by my IRL friends WHILE I was going through all this shit, so it’s not hard to assume and confirm that I have PTSD when it comes to situations like this. One beautifully tragic morning I had to go to one of my English classes, because surprise surprise, I’m a college student… who is trying to NOT to go into fucking debt by failing. Apparently Reva couldn’t comprehend this,... perhaps didn’t consider bothering in the first place. That morning I had woken up from a nightmare/memory of my Stalker pulling the whole demanding my attention thing during my history class when I was going for my Culinary Degree. Now, waking up from that… and having another boy demand my attention while I was going to English class for my Bachelors for English… well… It’s easy to say that the ‘ol demon of unbridled rage possessed me for a hot minute there. Then he ran off to bash me in a server that I didn’t know about… which is reasonable. I was being a total bitch and I do regret it, but what was the reason for that little demand of my attention?

He thought that I didn’t like him (I did a little bit, but I loathe him now), and he was big upsetti spaghetti because I didn’t complete our little art project with the ship kids that @felicitythekittycat supposedly loathes (it’s not like that art takes literal weeks sometimes months to complete depending on how much detail I put in, if I have homework, if my stalker isn’t demanding my attention every half a second etc.).

It’s also not like I’m scared of being screamed at while I’m already emotionally fragile to the point that a feather could break me.

Truly, I should’ve just given him ALLLLLLLLLLLL my attention.

Also, it’s not like he and @felicitythekittycat literally showed off my mental breakdown later on in that same fucking server for everyone to gawk at and make fun of me… making me the village idiot/joke/pathetic cartoon villain…. Again…..

And I’m the bad guy? Have we all agreed I’m the true villain here?

(Side note from an emotionally exhausted me: The reason why @felicitythekittycat was supposedly crying that time was because I was trying to guess what version of Nightmare!Sans got its own server AT 1AM, and I'm an insomniac who at the time was in college for my Culinary Degree. Another note that must be made is now I finally know why he called me "one of the most disgusting people he ever had the displeasure of meeting". I find it EXTREMELY odd and disturbing that he continues to act concerned and wonders if I hate him and "unnerved" when I pretend like nothing is wrong when that is often what he and the others do in that server from my perspective. So, when he and the others do it, it's totally normal. But when I do it, suddenly there is a problem that needs to be pushed. During this time he actively knew I had a stalker, BTW.)

Oh, and also apparently, I’m not allowed to vent in my own server of a whole ass 6 people! Because it gets more people involved with a situation that they’re not a part of…. Now where have I heard that before? Hmmmmmmm, maybe we should scroll up this entire post and uh… see if we see something funny. Liiiiiiiiiiike hypocrisy!

This screenshot was about me making a display of taking down my art contest that I made for the server. It was a basic concept and looking back it may have been a bit TOO ADVANCED for the artists there at the time, but who’s to say. Several people, including @felicitythekittycat, were planning on “memeing” the contest, which was that they were gonna all submit the same picture just to be assholes to me. Now I was reasonably mad because one, I thought it was gonna be a fun little contest – it was basically this:

You have to draw a character that isn’t yours – it can be your friend’s, an anime’s, etc., thus basically it could be any character of your choice so long as it isn’t your OC – and you have to draw them in an outfit that is inspired by food. It could be inspired by the texture, the color, shape language, etc. So essentially you could make a piece of your best friend’s character in a suit that is inspired by Tiramisu if you wanted, specifically the colors it has, and thus give it to said friend as a gift.

Yeah, this was gonna be “memed” for…. What reason? I don’t know, other than the fact that I was the one that thought of it.

Here is the second reason why I was upset: There were PLENTY of other art contests similar to it without a single problem going on. My guess for the reason why Reva was so pissed was because he and his cocksucker posse were upset they couldn’t execute it and/or felt guilty for it. Maybe he thought it was funny too. However, a meme/joke is only funny if everyone is laughing,... and I wasn’t laughing.

You also see me being very submissive here… it’s because I didn’t want to get screamed at more. Plus, I was humiliated. It made me feel like it was a bad idea and that I was a bad person for even considering it. I still somewhat feel embarrassed by it. I do have reassurance that my ideas and emotions over this are valid, though it doesn’t do much to heal the damage that was done to my confidence. Again, showing the Emotional Manipulation and fear impacted my actions in this situation.

The concept isn’t even that strange, there is a Gacha Game called Food Fantasy with this very aesthetic! This concept is very much to HAVE FUN. Hell, League of Legends has an entire skinline with this concept. The point of not doing your own character was to encourage camaraderie and push the artists to get out of their comfort zone by drawing characters that they haven’t done very often. It takes a whole lot of horrific talent to turn something all about fun and camaraderie into something to humiliate a single individual. It is extremely disgusting.

So what do we have here all together?

An Emotionally Abusive and manipulative individual based on the following:

A person who likes to jump into screaming fits, threats of violence, personal insults, and refusing to hear anything other than his own voice, having and abusing a position of power, refusing to be accommodating to a person's trauma, invalidating said trauma, actively tried to get a person to relive that trauma for his personal gain, gets upset over his concept of “peace” being disrupted, does zero self-reflection and constantly imposes unequal rules via a “Rules for thee, but not for me” mentality, refuses to apologize and then actively hides when called out on his bullshit... This is who Reva is. This is how he has ALWAYS BEEN and likely will always be considering that he is hiding right now because "he moved on", a.k.a. refuses to take accountability and actively chose to not let me move on via giving me the answers I so desperately wanted and needed to move on.

But here is where we round out all of this. As I’ve shown before, the vents that he has done were in servers that I had no knowledge of. This is how they were able to talk about me behind my back. He even knew about @felicitythekittycat’s vents. They were in two servers that I didn’t know about and likely had far more people than my little server. I’m guessing that they had anywhere between 10-15 people minimum, could be below or above that line. Blatantly showing that it is because I’m not giving him all my attention and art. He views me as a punching bag and for that, I’m not allowed to complain about anything in his eyes. It’s considered “drama” until it actively affects him when no… this isn’t drama. These are actual problems and real crimes one can be punished for. He doesn’t care that felicitythekittycat pushed me into suicidal ideation and he condoned that behavior by joining in on it, and though his active inaction because here is the kicker… he knew exactly what she was doing and refused to look at any of my evidence until the last minute when he had lost my trust long ago. There was no turning back from that. Especially when he revealed my mental/emotional breakdown to people far outside my trusted circle. That was NOT his pain to share. Anyone in their right mind would be ashamed for doing that much.

Reva, if you’re reading this, which I truly do hope you are, the reason why I never went to you for anything is because I was dealing with so much shit and I was very much wary of men in my life for many, MANY reasons that you have ignored repeatedly and because you started off our “friendship” with an attack. You actively reinforced my fear and wariness towards men. I am not going to pet a dog that tried to kill me when I first met it. I’m also going to be scared of its species, because guess what? That’s what traumatic experiences can do to people, you dumb fuck.

So instead of screaming at me for never going to your immature, unreliable ass for anything… try looking in a mirror and ask yourself if maybe screaming at people when you first meet them is really a good idea and looks good on you. Oh and also, you’d never be a good CEO of Twitter. You’d make Elon Musk’s work look like a paradise. You can barely help run a server for dumbass little roleplays or handle cases of slander, you’d legit run that company to the ground and blame a random Starbucks barista for it. The shit I complained about were legitimate problems, NOT drama. Learn to read the fucking room instead of assuming everything is out to chop your baby chode off with a pair of rusty scissors.

If legitimate slander that is affecting my mental health is what you consider “drama”, then I’d HATE to see what you consider a crime…. Oh wait… I have… because I am the crime.

Me existing is an illegal act to you.

I wouldn’t be surprised if you were waiting with bated breath for me to off myself…. In that case you can keep waiting, motherfucker.

You said me and felicitythekittycat need to improve ourselves. Out of context, that is 100% a fair and understandable statement to make, but when it’s your mouth it came out of, I wonder just how blind you are to your own self-centered, narcissistic bullshit. IT IS OBVIOUSLY MORE THAN A ME AND HER PROBLEM. A TWO YEAR OLD COULD FIGURE THAT SHIT OUT.

I had a temper problem and kept on drawing boundaries. Felicitythekittycat had a habit for crossing them and slandering me behind my back, activities that you actively participated in and perpetuated ON IN TWO OF JESSIRONI'S SERVERS (turns out there are two servers and not just one). It’s like getting mad at a dog for biting your leg when you were the one who kicked it in the first place. You brought in FAR MORE people than I ever did in EVERY SINGLE FUCKING SITUATION THAT HAD ME RELATED TO OR IN IT. But I only had a whole 6 people whereas those secret servers had…. How many spectators? How many participants? You have a whole ass “Rules for thee but not for me” mentality here.

I legitimately hope you never confessed your feelings to that secret someone to spare them the absolute plight of your company. Even imagining you in a relationship makes me want to shit in my hands and clap in your general direction.

Okay I need to talk here straight up because I know that I’ve been losing my cool this entire post and I need to really just sit down and say this. When I was still on relatively… I suppose decent terms with Reva – (I don’t know nor do I believe if I was ever on good terms with him) – I was legitimately terrified of being screamed at and dogpiled virtually at literally any moment. In a way it was worse online because no matter how much evidence I had of felicitythekittycat‘s lies and proof of my innocence, he wouldn’t even look at it, nor would VishaRage or Poke – the owner of said RolePlay server – and I would be left unheard completely. I know that the question of why I have so much evidence and yet never used it to prove my innocence to those who are in power, well this is why. I was never heard. None of them wanted to give me the time of day unless I were the villain time and time again. Why? Well I shit you not… the delivery. I would be sarcastic like “Oh wow I’m such a horrible person” and then give my evidence. They wouldn’t even glance at it. Not even a quick skim of any of the screenshots. Why was I so sarcastic and sassy? I was tired of getting dogpiled and overwhelmed. I was tired of walking on eggshells all day every day with no break from it. So it’s no surprise that I gave up, especially in the last conversation I had with him. In our last conversation, he claimed he was trying to hear my side AFTER I pointed out that he never once tried to hear me out. I told him I didn’t believe him and blocked him. To be honest, I’d love to meet the bastard in real life just to see if he’d actually try to kill me. I’d tell him to just do it, fucking get it over with. There is one sole reason why I think all of this shit happened out of malicious intent and I’ll reveal it at the end of all of this.

I had taken a long break from writing this post not simply because of the holiday but because of the sheer amount of anxiety I get from looking at the screenshots that are about him and all his verbal abuse and threats towards my person. Mind you, I’m used to hearing screaming. I’m used to being bullied, but there is a breaking point and he and felicitythekittycat took full advantage of it and kept sprinting onwards. Killing me would’ve been a mercy.

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andsjuliet · 7 months

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nace week 2023

day 4 → nace + others

ned "nick" nickerson (being the nace warrior we needed in season 4)

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this-should-do · 2 years

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Losing your identity in favor of survival

#gordon freeman #half life #was thinking about my headcanon on why gordon looses his mullet by hl2 in which he gets grabbed by the ponytail too many times and cuts it #of course in a very emotional manner before he hardens as he goes from gordon to freeman in accordance with my chracterization of him from #my fic which u should go read on ao3 #its called could gordon ever be clean #but yeah looove tying chara dev to hair and having it be so significant that gordon cuts his hair cuz i think he has a complex relationship #w his hair becuz hes so trans #i wont get into it cuz its kinda long but trust me its good #fun fact to get the subtle static texture u can barely see i used the sonic . exe static lol #eyestrain tw #<just in case these colors are kinda bright #anyways i love really messy haircuts cuz theyre having a breakdown and using a knife. it feels like in movies their hair always looks good #which is WRONG it would not look good like that u rlying to me #idoindeeddraw #anyways feeling artsy with the caption today lol #but thats like the theme of this comic and i wanted to ensure it was understood lol

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bpdcodone · 14 days

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A life without love for a BPD mfer is not a life worth living

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whumpetywhump · 5 months

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Flowers For Algernon - Ep. 1

#flowers for algernon #jdrama #crying #emotional breakdown #autistic character #concern #comfort #stimming #falling #cradled #hugging #protective friend #hagiwara masato #yamashita tomohisa #whump #jwhump #asian whump #tw self hatred

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outcastpack · 10 months

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#teen wolf #liam dunbar #thiam #mason hewitt #corey bryant #Liams many thoughts when Theo stops answering #Emotional breakdown vier book yep #tw characters on twt #teen wolf incorrect quotes

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 10 months

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The 24th One

TW: Blood, guns, attempted murder, fear, pain, stitches, painful wound cleaning, emotional breakdown, threats, slightly flirtatious drama queen villain, male whumpee

"Take it easy," a firm, but somehow saccharine voice called out from Civilian's living room.

Treading lightly and letting out an involuntary sharp gasp, her gaze flitted over to a figure mostly hidden by the shadows, like a charcoal drawing, the first rays of the sun peeking through the sheer, half-open curtain outlining his edges.

"Who are you?" she questioned, going back into her room to fetch a gun from the safe.

She tiptoed into the room, fingers tightening on the weapon as she flicked off the safety.

Civilian was met with a soft, amused chuckle. "I thought the spandex would be telling," the man she now identified as Villain replied, practically slouching in her armchair like he owned the place.

Her breathing went shallower, and her face paled. The all-too-happy figure in a dark, form-fitting suit with heavily mussed up light brown hair lounging around in her living room was one of the city's most dangerous criminals. And she was all alone with him and a gun she barely used. She wished to curse the fact that she'd chosen to live somewhere quiet, right on the outskirts, closer to her job. It didn't seem all too convenient now, did it?

"I'm gonna need you to put that down, love," the villain crooned, voice gentle and silky, but the hint of warning in it wasn't lost on her, much like a rose with thorns scattered across its stalk in a subtle manner, but still not invisible to the keen eye.

"And why should I do that?" she challenged, strengthening her death grip on the gun, defiance ablaze in her eyes. She wished she was as brave as she might have looked.

Except that didn't matter because the criminal seemed entirely amused with the situation, raising an eyebrow and letting out a soft laugh, greyish blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight with mirth. "Ah, as much as I admire the courage, I'm not in the mood for any games, so put the gun down and don't even think about calling the police. Not that it would save you anyway," he growled. The playfulness was still there in his demeanour, but he didn't make an effort to mask the threatening air of his tone.

"I hope you don't think I'm joking," he drawled lazily, pulling out a gun of his own and training it on Civilian's face.

"No," she stage-whispered, trying to ignore the nausea washing over her and the tightness in her chest. She mentally cursed herself for not shooting him the second she'd recognised him.

But killing people was not like the movies. It isn't something you walk away from, something a good night's sleep, if you could even afford such a luxury, would help you forget. Only truly terrible people, like the villain in her armchair, she presumed, could treat murder as a mundane part of their daily routine, like how one regards brushing their teeth.

But now, she didn't hold an inkling of power on the crime lord because while the civilian might hesitate, might back out completely, he wouldn't.

And besides, he had goddamn superpowers at his disposal; he could create wind. She would have to be extremely lucky to get a hit on him, and that was never something she was willing to gamble over when it came to her life.

She pried for any weaknesses, anything to use against the villain, but all she saw was a calm, almost relaxed person and a deadly weapon in his merciless grip.

"You know I really didn't want to do this. In all honesty, it's been a while since I've seen a girl this cute," he supplied, and if she didn’t know better, Civilian would've sworn he actually sounded disappointed, "but I don't like having to repeat myself," he concluded, a slight downturn of his lip being the only indication of any negative emotion he may have felt, with nothing behind those cold, steel-coloured eyes.

He rose up from the chair, and panic gripped the civilian. Both of them shot and missed, except the villain cried out, letting out a sharp gasp as he fell to the floor, holding onto the chair's leg like a lifeline. His gun was hurled across the room with a loud clattering noise, far away from his grip. A nasty laceration across his his abdomen spurted out blood.

She wondered how he'd gotten hurt if no bullets had hit him, and when the sunlight moved further into the room, she noticed that he'd popped some poorly executed stitches with his sudden movements. He tried to use his powers to pull his gun closer but to no avail. The pathetic, little breeze he'd created could barely move a leaf. Apparently, his injury had affected his power tremendously.

For a moment there, Villain looked terrified. Frantically groping around for his gun, looking two seconds away from howling out in agony as he moved as fast as his injured body could handle. There were bruises on his face, no doubt from a previous fight, and his eyes were wide as saucers, his breathing laboured. He was now at Civilian's mercy, and he knew it. This was his end, no way around it. For a man the heroes said claimed to 'dance with death', he seemed incredibly frightened of it. For the first time that night, he looked unbearably human.

She didn't understand why some sort of misguided empathy had led her to crouch down to his level and ask, "Can you walk?"

"What?" he choked out, snapping his head up sharply at her. And as though the fear from before had never been, he clenched his jaw, contracted the muscles in his face to pull it into something stone-hard and expressionless, trying his hardest to pull his form up into a semi-standing position, holding onto the coffee table with a white-knuckled grip. He tried again for his powers, but they failed him once more. Still, she could see the hint of wariness in his eyes as his gaze trailed over to her gun.

She got up and threw it aside. "Goddamn it," she snarled, drawing in a sharp breath and exhaling slowly. Well, if she died for being foolhardy, at least it would be a noble death. However, she'd made sure to keep both guns in her room. No more chances.

The villain's eyes widened again, not out of fear, but out of shock, clearly not being used to any displays of kindness. She walked over to him, letting him put his arm around her shoulders, struggling to shoulder his weight. He was incredibly tall, lean muscles outlined by his suit. The civilian finally managed to get him over to the couch. "I'm a med school student, final year," she supplied, and he let out an overly exaggerated sigh of relief.

She would've smirked, but she caught herself. Don't get too familiar. "Friendly reminder that I don't have any anaesthesia on hand right now."

He simply responded with a scoff, rolling his eyes at her.

"Alright tough guy, how would you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?" she asked, looking for a needle, thread and some antiseptic.

"Seven," he answered coolly. It still surprised her how he managed to preserve his composure while wounded like this, no wincing or shivers. But she reminded herself again that he was not a normal person.

Civilian unzipped the suit down to his abdomen, and the villain gave her an unbearably cocky grin, somehow managing to do that with blood snaking down from the ugly laceration on his body.

"Don't flatter yourself," she scolded, and she didn't understand why she'd said that, as though they were old friends used to exchanges full of banter. The civilian wondered if she'd become so secluded and terribly lonely that human interaction with anyone seemed appealing to her.

"Don't flatter me yourself with those eyes, love- ahggg!" The velvety tone and the lazy, half-lidded gaze were swiftly replaced with a sharp hiss as the villain squeezed his eyes shut, contracting and relaxing his muscles rhythmically to distract himself from the agonising sensation of the alcohol seeping into his wound, leaving his skin feeling like it was on fire.

"Easy, it'll be over soon," Civilian soothed awkwardly, unable to conceal the pang of sympathy she felt for him right now.

"Don't coddle me," he snapped, clearly more concerned with his wounded ego above anything else. Even beneath the smug smiles and stoicism, he clearly loathed the vulnerability. He hadn't been afraid of dying, she realised; he was afraid of dying in such a humiliating state.

Tragically poetic how he had the words 'Pride is my sin' tattooed on his right arm in all capitals, dark ink and a stylish font.

The civilian got him through the stitches, years of intensive studying and practice overriding her nervousness, stopping her hands from shaking the way they desperately wished to. Villain barely shivered or flinched during the process, and while he raised a sceptical eyebrow at her when she offered him a glass of water and painkillers, he swallowed them readily.

She washed her hands and threw him an icepack for the swollen bruises.

"I'm going to get ready for bed, and you should be uh, fine here," she supplied, gesturing to the couch with one hand as she zipped up the criminal's suit with the other.

"I guess this means I owe you a favour," he stated bluntly, a thoughtful, enigmatic look in his steely eyes.

"What?"

"I'm a crime lord, but that doesn't mean I'm a complete bastard," he reasoned, "you didn't kill me even when you had the chance. It's only fair."

"Why would I need a favour from you of all people?" She raised an eyebrow at him, moving a strand of ash blonde, wavy hair away from her eyes.

"In this city, you'll never know when you might need a favour from a guy like me. Anyway, take care of yourself, love." He sounded genuinely concerned, and the civilian hated it, so she awkwardly nodded at him.

When she got into the shower, finally away from the villain, her emotions came crashing down on her shoulders like solid rock. Her brave face in front of the villain had been a facade. She was terrified, incredibly guilty, all of the worst outcomes tormenting her mind in flurries of terrible thoughts. Try as she might, she couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face. There was no going back now.

Civilian may have preferred to stay awake after sunrise, but she was too exhausted. Or actually, she wished to escape her hellish thoughts, and this was the fastest and easiest way to free herself from her shackles.

We all dream of being kind, of offering help to those in need, yet in an imperfect world, acts of kindness come with an expensive price, one not everyone is willing to pay. This hour's enemy is the next hour's victim, today's proud and cruel are tomorrow's weak and defenceless. But the beautiful irony of life is that no matter how far one runs away from it, vulnerability is a destined fate, written in stone, an unavoidable risk. It is the one thing in a person's nature that marks a human being as such.

Almost forgot, tagging for comfort fics: @roblingoblin285

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

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astronomical-bagel · 6 months

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it seems that in the absence of my eldest sibling, the family dynamic has shifted to place the weight of the Eldest Daughter Syndrome™ (gender neutral) on my shoulders :D :D :D

#making sure my twin eats sleeps and doesn't hurt himself? been doing that since I knew what love was #now I'm also handling mother's emotional breakdowns AND dueling fathers medical emergencies!#add that on to cooking and cleaning and making sure everyone's schedules are aligned I'm practically running this household!#YIPPEE /s #how did kai do this #WHY DID I HAVE TO SPLIT WITH MY THERAPIST AT THIS EXACT TIME PERIOD IN MY LIFE I AM NOT EQUIPPED FOR THIS #THERE IS NO ONE I CAN TALK TO BC ALL MY FRIENDS WILL RELAY THIS TO MY TWIN AND I DONT WANT HIM TO HEAR ALL THIS #HOW DID KAI DO THIS?#I knew that she was the MVP of the household but now I have a brand new shiny appreciation for just how much he did for the entire family #no wonder he's having the time of his life in Korea she doesn't have to deal with all this shit no wonder she doesn't want to come back #god I miss her #I really don't know what I'm doing #vent #tw vent

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its-my-whump · 7 months

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Whumptober 11

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Captivity

Hummingbird 11

(Story starts here, if you like) previous

...

Sam was in and out of it for the next days, maybe weeks. At some points his mind resurfaced enough, that he was sure, that Grey was constantly drugging him, turning him into a string puppet.

Despite his hazy mind, he could feel his body getting stronger, healthier again. His ribs didn't ache so bad anymore. Exhaustion was slowly faiding. He couldn't really recall how, but Grey got him back on his feet.

Pictures, sounds, smells, sensations visited him for brief moments and were gone again, like fragments when you're really really drunk. He felt kind of drunk, but better. There was a soothing calmness inside of him. Grey redressed his wound, help him eat and drink and made him walk. And he help him clean up.

Apparently Sam almost really came back to himself and the thick fog in his mind was clearing, when he was stripped to his undies and set into a bathtube of warm sweet smelling liquid.

The thought alone should have been scaring him shitless, but it was okay. The person in front of him was Grey, but he was blurry, far away. Actually everything was foggy and pictures vanished too fast. He wasn't really part of this story, he just woke up to.

The foreign hands helped, were gentle, wouldn't touch indecently. He kind of felt like a child, the frightful adenture of the last days, weeks? forgotten.

Grey had removed the dressing from his burned skin just above his heart, revealing the scar tissue underneath. (*1) The wound where Sam had been touched with the cattle prod 3 times, was healing good. Part of the bruise on his left arm was shining brightly violett by now, but the edges were slowly turning green. 'Maybe it hadn't been weeks?' Fingertips touched the edges of his old scar, that was appearing underneather the burns and to the right, very gently, carefully avoiding the freshly agitated skin in the middle. Nevertheless Sam flinched in a knee-jerk reaction. His mind was really resurfacing.

In his usual soft tone, Grey asked him about that scar and how he got it.

Despite his condition, Sam replied with the answer, he had programmed himself to give for years. This chapter of his life had been closed a long time ago and he had thrown away the key. "Go-ot mugged a-fter ssschool." It was kind of a half-truth. His words were slurred, his tongue heavy.

The firm slap came out of nowhere. In retroperspective, it was the only real clear moment of these days of stupor.

"DON'T!" Thundered through the tilted room.

Despite the warm water he was sitting in, a cold shiver ran down Sam's spin. His cheek was stinging from the moment the big hand had left it again. Evil, dark eyes starring at him. He hadn't been able to point out that face in a crowd right now, but he would never forget those eyes.

Grey's voice was calm again only a second later. But that one bluffed command from before, betrayed the gentleness in the following statement.

"Don't... ever lie to my, hummingbird."

Sam had pressed his hand against his stinging cheek. He was stunned, but even more so a flash of fear ran through him.

Nevertheless, his drug-flushed system predominated that feeling once again only heartbeats later. He let the man pull his own hand away from his face to brush over the hot cheek with a wet washcloth. Sam was lulled into the false comfort of the moment, the dulcet voice pushing him deeper into compliance without Sam ever noticing.

"Let's try again, hummingbird."

Sam's mind was floating, he was lost in those gentil eyes, soothed by the sound of that voice. 'He hadn't felt this save in years. He was like that father he never had.'

'Still, something was off.' A spark of doubt enflamed in the corner of his mind, but he hushed it instantly. 'Should he really tell this man? How did he know, it was a lie anyway?'

This, this intimite safe moment, was just too good, to be true, he would cheerish it, as long as possible. The realisation, that the drugs were messing with his insticts, escaped him.

"Stepfather." Tumbled from his tongue. Sam couldn't have stopped it, even if he had wanted to.

A sad look, genuan sympathy in those eyes, Grey was really interested in him as a person, at least Sam's mind was longing for it to be true.

Foreign fingertips brushed over the scar above his heart again. Sam didn't flinch this time. A hand raffled his hair comforting. "What did he do to you?"

A little of his self-preserving senses had resurfaced and Sam hesitantly shook his head. "C-can't!"

The facial expression on his counterpart was understanding, a slight nod. "You can tell me anything, little hummingbird." Single tears had started to overflow Sam's lids. His head shook more eagerly now. "Bad-d timsss. Waaant to go ho-oome now."

The hand had disappeared from his chest and put itself around his jaw, comforting. A thumb brushed away the tears on one side of his face, while the other hand was leaving his tuft until both cupped his face.

"Don't be afraid. I'll make sure, no one ELSE ever hurts you again. If you tell me, I'll bring you home."

Sam was completely lost and too out of it, to recognise the little, but very essential peeks in his counterparts voice. Feelings of angst and despair from his past were fighting against the soothing and broadly shown comfort and the promist safety of home. "Promise?"

His subconscious was screaming at him, that something wasn't right, but he let himself fall for it anyway.

"I promise, MY little hummingbird."

If he hadn't been so out of it, he may have recognised, that Grey never asked him about the long scar on his arm, where he had broken it or the one on his leg. (*2) Never asked about the unnatural hole above his kidney or mentioned the still visible reminder of whipmarks on his back. (*3)

Grey picked this particular scar above his heart to ask about for a reason. The psychological reason to finally break his precious little mess. So in the end he could be the one to pick up the delicate hummingbird sitting between the scattered remains of his broken soul. And it seemed to be working.

Sam's lips parted, but it cost him a moment to articulate the words.

"H..hee said, he had to carve the fear of god into me." Sam hold the man's look, his expression had suddenly changed from desperate into angry. But his face cupped by Grey's gentil hands let his fascade crumble fast. More tears streaming.

And then he told him ... everything. How in his past all the lights had gone dark and his hope was destroyed for good. How, he was pressed to the ground by that evil man, not only overpowered physically, but emotionally. How his biological mother abandant him in his most vulnarble moment of his still young life. How he made it through days of pain and agony. Always feeling alone in this cruel world. How he needed to be hospitaltized and almost faltered from a septic shock. How he was admitted into the fangs of social services and how it never ever got better for him.

Sam hadn't been this emotional in years. Probably, he hadn't opened his gates this far ever. The drugs were messing him up completely. And the part of being a captive, constantly drugged; on top of it all, him almost dying, twice, did the rest, turning him overly emotional.

At first there were only silent tears, an occacional whimper, until he settled for heartbraking desperate sobs. The big warm hands never leaving him.

At some point everything got lost in a haze and the last thing he could vaguely remember was being pulled into an embrace.

TBC

Hummingbird masterlist

@whumptober-archive

How Sam got those scars (*1) (*2) (*3)

and who he actually is

#whumptober2023 #no.11 #lyric #captivity #OC #confusion tw #drugged tw #emotional breakdown tw #hummingbird #whump #writing #whump writing #whumpblr #writblr #creepy whumper #caretaking #whumptober

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daybringersol · 2 months

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existential poem incoming, please read tags for trigger warnings.

lost in fog. too dim to appreciate what ive got, too lucid to be immune to the ache of loss. proved over and over again that the fears that consume me are well founded, that from the moment i was born, i was destined to a life of being passed around and tossed away like old rags. small oases of autonomy between captors, just to taste what life could be if it was my own. living example of egocentric martyr complex. self-aware enough to know my sins, or at least to feel the guilt. quiet apocalypses meticulously spaced out over infinities. cycles of torment. doing art so it can be used as evidence in the trial of god. doubts that im alive, that what i call life might just be an oddly elaborate retribution for wrongs that predate my memory. doubts that the blade that wounds me is real, that the flesh that aches is real, that the pain itself is real. numbness in all organs, both left and lost.

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runelocked · 6 months

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❝ I DON’T WANT TO ‘ GET USED ’ TO THIS ! ❞ THE WORDS ARE HARDLY HIS OWN. ENRAGED, FEARFUL. Where he’d once laughed in the face of death, when faced now with the real thing – or perhaps something worse – it is only the urge to run that haunts his expression now. He’s always been a clever man, if highly irrational, and it’s slowly beginning to sink in that maybe the other isn’t lying to him. Maybe this is it. The end of the line. Maybe the show’s over. And yet the idea of stopping, accepting, growing familiar with this fate leaves his blood running cold. How cruel a punishment this is, he thinks, rage building again, but they wouldn’t keep him here. He won’t be trapped here, he won’t be, he can’t – ❝ You have no idea what I’m capable of. The things I’ve done. The things I’ll do again ! Death isn’t even real, none of it is: I've created things beyond your wildest dreams, did you know that ? ❞ His own answering laugh is shrill and panicky, the beginnings of a nervous breakdown. An overwound clock. And if Andrew mocks him, if the man says a single thing out of place or looks at him with anything other than casual disinterest, then he’ll kill him. He will.

His hysterical breath catches in his throat, and William wrenches himself silent. He hasn’t cried in years, isn’t about to start now. Like he’d done as a child, he sets his shoulders and grits his teeth, conflicted angry gaze turning back to Andrew. There really is only one question to ask, now, and it’s not one he likes. One question, one set of actions: William sits, not defeated but drained, a few yards away from the stranger, and forces out:

❝ Tell me who you are and what you know about this place. ❞

Because he’s going to get out. Even if it takes him years, even if it takes him decades, even if it takes him lifetimes. He’s not giving up so easily, and all information – even tiny details – will be invaluable to him.

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

#(( i know andrew WON'T mock him for his complete nightmare breakdown but consider ... /j BFDDFS ))#(ii) man behind the slaughter — roleplay thread.#(ui) original: lakeside #(oxo) fishing for redemption: william & andrew #a; curseofbreadbear #tw emotional distress #tw mental breakdown #tw mental instability #tw unreality #( last tag just there because of how william is speaking abt death more than anything !! )#( ask to tag. )

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rubiesintherough · 3 months

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#(( ooc. ))#negativity tw #sorry i did absolutely nothing yesterday.... it was not a good time #between dealing with mil's straight up emotional abuse then having to go to a really triggering #doctor appt.... yeah. cried a lot yesterday and spent the rest of it high and disasociated #bc stress makes the pain flare so. wasn't exactly in the brainspace to write #gonna do my best to get those starters / some writing out today #but gonna be pretty quiet o o c. so if i don't respond to messages and stuff it has nothing to do with you #i'm just having a mEntAL BREAKdoWN *off-key kazoo*

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whumpetywhump · 4 months

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Tunnel (2017) - Ep. 14

#tunnel #kdrama #shock #emotional breakdown #crying #injured hand #bleeding #concern #caretaker #bandages #tw self harm #yoon hyun min #whump #kwhump #asian whump

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lastsecondsquirrel · 4 months

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baby's first therapy appointment where half the session was just me hyperventilating

#tw breakdown #tw mental health #avoidant personality disorder #agoraphobia #mental health #emotional neglect #anxious avoidant #therapy #hyperventilating #personality disorder #bpd #christmas anxiety #christmas

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 1 year

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Foolish Dreams

TW: Implied past torture & captivity (choking, bruises, scratching), touch-starvation, being guarded due to past trauma, kinda emotional???

Full credit to @shywhumpauthor for this prompt. I hope this is a good read!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♤♤♤~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They thought they were over it. That it was just another fleeting emotion they could ignore. A frivolous want they could quite easily live without. After all, Whumpee had managed to function even with a scarce amount of their basic needs.

Sure, they'd already been with Caretaker for well over six months, but that didn't mean that all the scars from their past had been completely erased. Time isn't magical enough to make everything fade. This time; however, it wasn't thet they were in physical pain, aside from the usual come-and-go tension in their muscles, partially from apprehension and totally from their past torment.

It was a different kind of ache, something that plagued their soul, a monster lurking in the darkest corners of their mind. It made their chest tighten and their breathing go shallow just thanking about it. Like an itch they couldn't scratch.

They longed for a gentle touch. They didn't have anything specific they wished for, just whatever they could get to cater to their insatiable craving. It was something they could never do for themselves. It made them feel weak and desperate. Much like an animal trapped in a cage trying to claw its way out to no avail.

All they had to do was ask Caretaker. They'd gotten better at that. But they'd only ever asked for things they'd needed. Like help with stitches where they couldn't reach because the consequence of attempting that by themselves would be their death or severe blood loss if they were fortunate. Dire needs.

Caretaker had managed to slowly coax some of their wants out of them, but there was a major difference between what they liked on their pancakes and. . .this.

It wasn't just their pride that stood in their way, rather, it was a much deeper concern. The thought of someone else touching them for longer than was needed, for something unnecessary, made their skin crawl. It felt far too reminiscent of their time with Whumper, where they would have given anything to be free of that monster's touch, of the nails that dug into their fresh cuts, the fingers that wrapped around their neck, leaving deep purple bruises in their wake. They'd come to make synonyms of the words 'touch' and 'pain'.

But today, even the memories of their captivity couldn't torture them out of this.

"Whumpee? Is everything alright, love?"

Caretaker's gentle voice snapped them back to reality, and they turned their attention to them instead of the movie they'd pretty much drowned out anyway.

"Yeah. I'm fine," they replied evenly, their voice a million times calmer than the crashing waves of an overwhelming amount of emotions in their head.

Caretaker sighed deeply, the look in their eyes a clear indication of the number of times they'd had to deal with Whumpee's well-feigned stoicism. "Whumpee, you know you can talk to me about anything that troubles you, right?"

"Yes, I know," they snapped, and it came out much harsher than they'd intended. "This is just. . ." they faltered, and finally whatever resistance inside of them was obliterated.

"I-I know you'll probably think I'm just pathetic, but I don't care. I'd do anything for it, but please, please just hold me. Just a touch beyond necessity, anything, please. I'm not picky, jus-just PLEASE DO IT! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE, CARETAKER, PLEASE!"

Their lip quivered violently, and it had taken them a moment to register that they were crying as fresh, hot tears rolled down their cheeks and wet their shirt.

It had been so long since Caretaker had seen Whumpee's gaze fall downcast or heard them beg for something. It broke their heart, but they couldn't just watch.

Slowly, with just a small amount of trepidation, they reached out for them, pulling them close into their arms, letting them rest their head into the crook of their neck. As expected, Whumpee flinched violently, but they actually made no effort to leave Caretaker's embrace.

After a few solid minutes of crying, Whumpee let go, pulling out some tissue paper from the box near them and wiping their face.

Once they'd calmed down, Caretaker put each of their hands down on their shoulders, exchanging glances with them to silently ask if it was okay.

Whumpee flinched again, though less intense as the first time, but they nodded their affirmative, and Caretaker gently began to knead the corded tension out of their shoulders.

Even Whumpee themselves was shocked at how fast they melted into the touch. They couldn't actually believe what they'd been depriving themselves of, for so long, when it had been at their fingertips this whole time, all they had to do was ask. Okay, to their credit, maybe it wasn't that simple. It had felt like having to move mountains of trauma. But the way the tightness blissfully dissipated from their muscles and how Caretaker was concerned enough to ask what felt too soft to be relieving and what felt rough enough to be slightly too painful, just the fact that they genuinely cared made it seem all the more worthwhile.

Whumpee had relaxed enough to close their eyes, to go completely boneless under their touch. . .the same Whumpee that still slept with one eye open and a penknife near them on their worst days. It sparked a few tears of joy to prick at Caretaker's eyes.

Whumpee turned to them, and a rare smile found its way onto their lips. "Thank you," they breathed out, and they meant it with every fibre of their being.

"Don't mention it, lovely. Anytime you need this, just ask me. I've been meaning to for a while actually, but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You're never a burden, Whumpee, especially not when it comes to something like this," they replied, voicing out Whumpee's internal fears.

"Besides, you look adorable like this, so why wouldn't I want to?" they added, grinning.

Whumpee laughed softly as Caretaker continued rubbing their shoulders.

Sometimes, it was okay to let down your guard. To break down reinforced concrete walls of indifference built by years of pain. With the right person, you could learn to live freely again, without the shackles of constant anxiety and apprehension. It is true that a simple touch does not possess the power to erase all the scars of the past, but it could tremendously improve the present.

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