#DAMMIT TUMBLR

[whumble-beeee]

Just Relax (It's Not That Serious)

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 13

Content: drugging, noncon undressing, dissociation, (fear of) needles, disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, flashbacks (ptsd), tied up/handcuffs, past captivity references, begging, fear, light unreality? (related to the ptsd)

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[The first 72 hours after a hero’s capture is also massively critical to you, villain, as your hero’s keeper! When planning on long-term hero-keeping, use this time to lie low, keep your hero firmly in your grasp, and really set the mood for the rest of their stay. Set non-negotiable expectations. Show your patience. For as much as your hero may fight you, curse and jeer and scorn and defy you, they will still be only human (with select power exceptions, of course). They will still need food, water, shelter. All of which must be obtained from you, their captor! You are the one ultimately in control, no matter how much the hero may scream otherwise. 

So why are these first 72 hours so important? Well, how long do experts generally agree that a person can survive without food or water? How long can they ignore you? How long before they have to rely on you for their every need?

72 hours.

Be patient.

Make them count.]

* * * * * * * *

“Finally, Christ,” Deeby muttered under his breath as Stan finished forcing the bar down his throat. It had taken him longer than he'd meant, what with the dehydration and the not wanting to be drugged and the weary pain that seeped into his every bone and the spinning of the room and the not wanting to be drugged. It was a surprisingly difficult task to knowingly poison himself. Who’d've thunk?

“Happy?” Stan finally spat with a heaving breath. There was the slightest taste of salt and battery acid twinging the back of his mouth. It made him nauseous.

Deeby absent-mindedly grabbed the used protein bar wrapper and tossed it into his plastic bag. “Yeah. Not done yet, though.”

 Stan whined. It was all he could do to not start crying on the spot. “Why can't you just let me fall into unconsciousness in peace? I ate your stupid protein bar! It's-it's never-ending with you!”

“Well, it feels less gross to have you undress now than when you're high off your ass.”

Stan blinked. It was like the world had been overlaid with TV static for a moment. But he was back. Violently. Because what? “Ah– Co-come again?” 

“Your uh– fuckin’... What's it called, your tank top? The transgender tank top, the one that squishes your ribs. Your… ‘tranksgender’ top.”

“My binder?”

Deeby snapped his fingers in triumph. “That's the bitch! We're taking that off now.”

“WHAT?!”

“I can help if you want. I don’t know how long it's gonna take the drug to start affecting you, considering you haven’t eaten in two days, so it might not–”

“I’m not taking my binder off!” Stan yelled, startling back from yet another all-consuming dip into the static. The worst part was, it wasn't even unpleasant. He almost would have enjoyed it, save for the predator six feet away stalking at him as if he were a wounded antelope, one hand resting on the ornate knife holstered right next to his gun. His eyes sparkled with that ever-dangerous red excitement that Stan had become painfully acquainted with again and again and again over the past two days, though there was something more serious underneath the child-like sadism. Tired eyes, deep breaths... 

“I know you're not supposed to wear it for this long, runt.” The mercenary brushed the still bright-red gash on his cheek from where Stan had whacked him with the handcuffs. “And besides, I still need to get you back for this. Please make me do it the hard way.”

Stan’s breath caught between a groan and a cry and his vision swam around him, only grounded by the sudden noxious pit in his stomach. “Dee-deeby…” he panted. “Stay away from me.”

Deeby continued to stalk closer, voice taking that dangerous low twang, the light bass growl snaking through the room and slithering around Stan’s throat, suffocating him more than a literal yank by his damn collar would. “Aw…” he tutted. “That's no fun, is it chiquito? I think you just need–”

“OKAY, OKAY!” Stan skittered back, pressing himself into the wall with racing heart and rabbit-fast breath. “I'll-I'll do it, I'll do it! You don't– You–... I'll take off my binder…”

That did, in fact, stop Deeby dead in his tracks. Stan swayed. Deeby looked at him expectantly. Stan stared into the distance. Deeby raised an eyebrow and made an impatient circular motion at Stan with his hands: get moving.

The static.

“Runt, if you don’t–”

“I– jus– ju-just-just don't touch me–”

“Stan–” Deeby warned, taking a single step toward him. All the air sucked out of the room. “I'm done giving you chances. Off. Now, or I'll do it.”

Stan grit his teeth with an almost mewling whine. His cheeks burned a bright red embarrassment under near-invisible blue freckles, and his very lungs stuttered as they tried to figure out if he wanted to scream or just cry. He started to pulled the shirt over his head, slowly, as if he could go slow enough that the bounty hunter would just get bored and give up entirely.

Ha.

Then he lost his way. He searched. More fabric. Where did the holes go? Where was he? He was lost! He tangled his arms around, searching, growling with frustration as he unsuccessfully tried to free himself, genuinely trapped as time simultaneously moved way too fast and excruciatingly slow. Then a whoosh, and his cotton-polyester prison disappeared, pulled off over his head to reveal a very amused Deeby glinting back at him, eyes sparkling as always. 

It was so cold in here.

Stan shoved him away, thankfully braced against the wall or else he might have fallen over himself. The world was so… tilted.

“Turn-turn around,” Stan ordered, blinking hard to keep himself present.

“What, no ‘thank you?’”

“Turn around!”

“Not turning around, bud.”

“Please, I don-don’t– don’t want you to-to see– to–...Turn around!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Please! Deeby, I’m begging!”

“Not happenin’,” he sang, deadpan as ever.

“I thought you-you-you-ou said you weren't gugh-guh-gon-gonna–...” Stan shivered and took a deep breath. This stutter was driving him insane. “Tha-at you weren't a perv!”

“I'm not. I'm not gonna do anything except make sure you're not trying to pull some shit.”

“I won’t! I'm drugged! I-I can’t even take my shirt off!”

“All the more reason–”

“Declan!” Stan pleaded, pupils blown out and wide, tension at the top of his mouth so tight he was sure he was about to start bawling. “I care. I care-are-re. I don’t wan-want you–... Please…”

His voice turned high and quiet, tears burning to fall, pressure building up behind his eyes and ready to burst.

“Plea-ease…”

Declan closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose. Another tired deep breath.

“Turn yourself around if you care so much,” he muttered. The knife appeared in his hands, point pressed into the taut fabric on Stan's chest. “I'm done playing games. Stop stalling. Now.”

“I’m no-ot–”

The mercenary grabbed the strap of Stan’s binder and yanked him forward, barely pulling the knife out of the way in time for Stan to not fall on top of it and instead sending him hurtling into the man’s chest with a blood-curdling screech, then flailing and shoving off of the captor as hard as humanly possible. The push mixed with a sudden heavy fog bank engulfing his mind mixed with a painful misstep on his bad leg caused him to all but crumble to the freezing concrete floor in a heap, chin banged and bleeding and dripping and staining on the ground as his face pressing into scratchy dirt particles, as he laid there confused and scared and scrambling, just trying to figure out how to silence the roaring confusion of his mind as it blindly panicked in the pressing, buzzing fog that surrounded it. Threatened to swallow him whole.

Then a force grasped him by the back of his neck. Then a knee planted into the base of his spine. The full body weight of a man at least twice his size ground into his lower vertebrates, seemingly trying to press them straight through the soft flesh of his stomach into the unforgiving floor.

Stan screamed.

Was Deeby going back on his promise not to–

GET OFF!!

His binder, he couldn't let Declan take it off.

OWOWOWOWOW– NO NONONO–

The fog the fog the fog the fog the fog the fog buzzing buzzing buzzing buzzing BZZZZZZZZZZ–

A gloved hand pressed him into the floor by the back of his neck. Others in scratchy black tactical gear held his flailing limbs down. He strained. He cried. He screamed. He screamed so loud. So loud his throat was sore. They didn’t let up.

He wanted his mom. His dad. His sister. COME HELP!! Where were they? He cried out for them, heaving sobs. Unheeded.

“DEEBY!” He screeched, feet kicking out as if they could somehow free himself if he just kicked hard enough. “Get off! GET OFF! You're not taking my binder off–!”

“Mhm, yeah, sure bud,” Deeby mumbled as Stan continued his tantrum. His fingers squeezed slightly at either side of Stan’s neck. Warning. Patient. Waiting. He was waiting him out. Stan's head spun as if filled with angry bees, cries becoming weaker, fighting more and more sluggish as Deeby just sat on top of him.

Where was his sister? Where was Chloe?! CHLOE!! He needed to protect her! That was his only task! Protect her! He’d failed, he’d failed, he needed to save her, save them, get away. Every time he raged and strained and screamed another hand just came to pin him to the dusty ground. He was an animal thrashing around in a cage, a trap that only tightened around his throat the more he struggled.

“DEEBY– Deeby… Declan, Deeb– please get off, please, I need to save her, I don't– I just– can't–... ple-ee-ea-ease…” 

Deeby didn't say anything. Was it the drug that made him feel like he was floating on air as a pressure chamber simultaneously caged in his skull, teasing it to shatter? Or maybe the hyperventilating as he realized there was no escape. Or maybe the gutting hunger, or the throat squeezing thirst, or the burning panic, or the bone-deep exhaustion, or the pain, the pain, make it stop, all-encompassing, never-ending, or the violent shaking from lack of oxygen, or any number of the many other things that were wrong with him. Maybe all of them. His limbs lay stiff, as if held down by lead weights. His protests devolved into barely a whimpering whisper. He couldn't breathe. Not with the bounty hunter on top of him pressing his stomach into the floor, not with the probably broken ribs, not with the binder pressing into the swelling of his ribs and making every intake of air a monumentally agonizing feat achieved less and less each time…

“God, shut her up, I’m not dealing with this in the transport.”

“Really? It’s just a kid.”

“Unless you’d rather I shut her up myself.”

NO NO NO ESCAPE ESCAPE HE NEEDED TO FIND HIS FAMILY–

A tiny little prick on his upper arm. He screamed. Screamed until he couldn’t anymore, screamed because he couldn’t do anything else, screamed until one of the gloved hands slapped over his mouth and stayed there until he quieted, and then he couldn’t even scream. It stayed there until tears soaked through the course fabric. The edges of his vision started to go dark. 

“That’s it kid, shut up, go to sleep. Don’t struggle. It’ll be easier if you just relax.”

His head fell limp against the dirty ground.

He was gonna die here, wasn't he?

Yeah.

Made sense. 

He let his head lie down on the floor.

He lurched with silent sobs.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He couldn't.

This was all pointless.

He was done.

And he went limp.

“There ya go. Attaboy.”

Deeby's voice came from above him. Slow, comforting, praising, as if he were speaking from a thousand miles away.

“Attagirl…” The last voice he heard. The last time he saw his childhood home. The last time he saw his parents. The end of his first fight for his life. Failed. 

The black consumed him. 

Stan let out something between a whine and a sob. The mercenary took just a moment to readjust, legs now caging him in and pushing inward on either side of Stan's hips. “Yeah okay, whatever runt. Let’s just get this done.” 

Deeby's fingers probed under the binder for a moment, causing Stan to squirm anew purely on instinct. Until he hit a particularly nasty bruise. An electrical storm webbed through his ribcage. A flash of white. Stan yelped a cut-off, strangled squeal, a sound he prayed he’d never have to hear again.

“Sorry…” muttered above him. His binder flipped upward and over itself, a brief squeeze, the fabric pulling lightly at his skin, his arms, his hair, then pressure relieved.

Breathe in…

Holy fuck, he was alive!

Stan gulped in the first deep breath he'd taken in what felt like years, gasping and desperate and a full, deep breath. His senses sharpened. Kinda. He still sat pinned within a sea of cotton, the static that blanketed the clouds, limbs heavy, mind slow. But he could breathe! He almost remembered that he only felt like this because Deeby forcibly stripped him. That bitch.

“Holy shit,” the bounty hunter whispered quietly, amazed, almost inaudible. A moment of breath-taking clarity as adrenaline shot through Stan’s system for one last, final hurrah. Holy shit?

“Wh-what, what–?” He tried unsuccessfully to turn around and see. He even managed to convince himself that he didn't care that his tits were basically out, right before he flopped face-first into the ground again. This drug worked miracles.

Declan paused for a moment. Then: “Ah… Nothing, nothing, just, your ribs are much worse off than I thought. Bruised to shit…”

Stan laughed. Really? Bruised to shit? Who could have guessed? The burning anger and hatred and desperation he expected to feel, that he'd been fighting nonstop for two or three or however-the-hell many days straight? It was now buried under layers of static and sand and that lovely familiar darkness which pressed everything that made him himself to somewhere deep in the darkest recesses of his brain, unnoticed in the rolling fog. Though the knot in his throat that made him want to burst out crying still persisted. That was weird. What did he have to cry about? “Yeah… maybe you should… not… Aheh, uh, throw me… to–... walls anymore…” he giggled. He was pretty sure at least. That’s what his voice sounded like, right?

His limbs were so heavy. He might not be able to move them if he tried. Not that he wanted to. What if he just went to sleep right here?

Ah shit, he didn't have a shirt on still.

But like, who even cared anymore? The mercenary would take what he wanted, including Stan’s shirt, including his binder. He could take everything from him. Take his freedom, take his personhood, take any slight chance at happiness or have a normal family that wasn’t shattered to pieces. Shoot him with that pretty old gun, take his life entirely. Come back again and again just to make sure Stan never saw the light of day again. Who even cared if he saw Stan’s chest? Who even cared if this was one of the most humiliating things to ever happen to him? He shouldn’t fight so hard. He wouldn't be pinned face down to the floor and chained up and drugged if he just stopped fighting. This was fine. He felt fine. He liked this.

Keep fighting, rage, rage, escape.

Oh, shut up.

He felt the white overly large shirt being pulled back on over his head a million miles away, something with Eeby-Deeby getting frustrated again and his arms getting roughly shoved through the armholes before Stan could even try to lift his leaden limbs.

Chill out, man. It's fine. It's not that serious.

The way the world swirled around him was almost a comfort now. He was drugged. He knew it, it was just a fact now. The fog and the static and the way he could barely think and the way it was kinda hard to move and the way it took a second to move even if he did actually want to move… That wasn’t really Stan. That was some other guy. He was just drugged. Drugged Stan.

It was nice. Normal Stan was always so wound up about everything. Normal Stan fought so hard to change what couldn’t be changed, made everything so much worse for himself. And for what? He’d always be captured again, always chained up, always poked and prodded and beholden to the will of others, always treated like a petulant, whiny animal that needs to be tamed. Normal Stan couldn’t seem to get that. Normal Stan was those bad thoughts at the edges of his mind, the ones that kept him screaming, running, fighting even when Deeby got up off of him and gave him water which he desperately needed, sweet, sweet, water that relieved the pain and carried all his troubles away like a gently rushing river, cooled his insides of the burning heat and anger. GOD, he forgot how nice water tasted.

It was weird. Eeber-Deeber was almost thoughtful, in his own special way. When you looked past the violence. Stan should be nicer to him, make him not have to violence so much. Maybe then Stan go home! No fight, just go home and see his family… he didn’t really have a home, did he? No… But that was okay, because he still had Marcus and Chloe! He could see them again! That would be nice. Marcus, Chloe. He loved them so much. He needed to protect them. Why was he still here? His Mom and Dad couldn’t protect them, it was his job because they were…

Dead?

Dead.

It was for the best that they were.

It was fine though. It wasn’t that serious. 

…

He missed them.

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything

@paperprinxe | @tippytappytyping | @chaotic-orphan | @notactuallyluska | @thebestieyoureinlovewith

(If you'd like to be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[cokoweee]

I’ve been trying to post this for 30 minutes

[blog-de-segunda]

Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @dreamweazel !!

What to do? Put your name/nickname in the Character Headcanon Generator and see what you get!

I'm gonna be that person and make one for my three nicknames c: (i'm not crazy!)

Here are mines:

I'm tagging: @oo-mi-ru-oo @kowaiju @exmorphic @kuudenshi @obscu-rae

[harveybwabbit92]

Oh boy! tumblr's got another money making scheme and it's right on top of the create button so you can 'accidentally' press it!~ Yappie!! 🙄

[dragonkid11]

Amazing, so I guess Tumblr is somehow going to die (again) before Twitter does.

Anyway ermmmmm, I have an account on bluesky, follow me there if you want.

[rainyfestivalsweets]

Back up to 204.

Was 198 almost 2 full weeks ago.

What the hell.

My workouts have been ✔️🏋️‍♂️😁🔥

I thought my food was good.

Dammit

[justanothersimsblog]

@simmreaper 🤞🤞 it's been at least 2 days. At first I thought it was just shitty internet but today I confirmed. Still hoping it's just some dumb issue.

@echoweaver I have no idea. I just know I feel very old school doing this because I cannot reply any way shape or form in neither my own posts or others. With or without tagging. 😡

[evilwriter37]

I still want to know who sent an ask to the Whump Week blog...

[nootcatt]

IM BACK IM BACK IM BACK!! I MISSED THIS WEIRD SITE SO MUCH OH MY GAWD

Now back to my bullshit

[clown-demon]

Follower Forever (part one)

Just wanna do one of these cuz I just??? Adore y'all... I may not have EVERYONE included cuz I had bad brain and Tumblr does NOT show all my followers when I want it.. cuz it sucks.. But under the read more I'll list a bunch of peeps that mean stuff to me, and then some peeps I WANT to know / admire / wish to talk to...

The besties: People who I deem as close friends / friends. People I chat to often.

@the-reddish-muse - You are my beeb. My wonderful beeb that I forever will cherish. I look forward to talking to you everyday. You're one of the bestest friends I have ever made. You def make my days brighter, even if we're just passing around pictures or something. I still LOVE our thread and our story we had going. You mean the world to me. You are a wonderful friend and I lobbu very much. You're in my mind a lot, and I am always wishing you the best. <3

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@nurturing-starlight - It's been like... two years since we've known each other? I KNOW we met when I started RPing Eleanor. I saw Damien on my dash and I'm like 'huh that's a cool character' and I followed and I NEVER REGRETTED IT. You are an AMAZING person, you are a talented artist and writer! I always look forward to seeing your threads on my dash. I LOVE and ADORE Nimue with all my heart. She's just such a well thought out OC, and I think it's amazing how you're able to mesh her so well with other verses. She's def one of my all time favorite OCs. I wanna squish her.

----

@pcrplevenom - You are the LONGEST moot I have had. We've been mutuals for AT LEAST seven years. I met you when I was on my Warden blog. And we've been mutuals ever since. You are one of my dearest friends and I love when we chat! I LOVE Soldan. I say it from time to time again, I have NEVER read Homestuck and I actually really do not like it?? (Had an ex constantly shove it down my throat and nag me.) But I adore your little troll you have. Also it's VERY admirable that you have stuck with a muse for SO long. I bounce a lot between muses but you have stuck to the same muse for YEARS. It really shows how much you love your character!

----

@blackstardiopside - YOU'RE a long time mutual too! We met when I got into Steven Universe and RPed Peridot! AAH I STILL ADORED OUR SHIP. I honestly love your little bean you have. She's so thought out and adorbs, I LOVE her design and her characterization! I also love when we chat! We don't chat as much anymore, but I still adore the times when we do! You're such nice and kind person, never forget that!

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@nulfy - I know we haven't like, known each other for very long. But you are someone I have warmed up VERY quickly to! I love chatting with you, although I sometimes get paranoid I am being a bother. .w. But you are a very kind person, I do NOT care what anyone else says about you-- you have proven me to me from time to time AGAIN that you are a kind and deserve all the love in the world. I absolutely HATE what has happened to you-- you do NOT deserve any of that shit. I only hope for the best for you, always. If you ever need someone to chat to-- my discord messages are ALWAYS open to you. Mwah!

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@gonnachasethestars - IT HONESTLY FEELS LIKE WE'VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR LONGER. Man I was SO happy when we exchanged discords cuz I REALLY wanted to talk to you! You are an EPIC writer, I love the detail you put into your writing! You REALLY give characters life! Kounosuke will ALWAYS have a special place in my heart because of you! You're one of my dearest friends and I will always cherish our friendship. <3

----

@lambfated - I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR A YEAR NOW. We met up the last time I RPed Narinder and that was like, a year ago. Man, time flies doesn't it? You are SUCH a lovely person and I ADORE all our interactions! I admire the fact you've stuck with ol Lamby for SO long and put so much detail into your character! You took a character with NO dialogue and turned them into something INCREDIBLE. Your Lamb will always be canon to me. I also adore when we chat, you're such a nice person! Zzzzz buddies!

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@swordduels - You are probably one of the friendliest people I have met! You give off such energetic vibes and I LOVE it! You're so kind and I adore our chats! I love the fact you can strike up a convo with me at anytime! Cuz sometimes-- I just don't know how to reply??? And it fills me with joy when I see a message from you pop up!

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@yoxngmadnxss - YOU'RE A long time mutual that I have had around for a few years! I LOVE the fact we've started to chat more!! You're SO much fun to talk to, and I am SO thrilled we talk now! You're such a talented writer, and I ADORE your art. I am SO excited to see more of your art for when you start digitally with a tablet! You're so kind and nice to me, it makes me SUPER happy. I love RPing with you all the time! And I love the fact you've stuck with me for so long! <3

[cosmic-gemstone]

HEY MOBILE IF YOU COULD STOP OPENING MY WEB BROWSER FORCEFULLY EVERY TIME I TRY TO SCROLL DOWN MY DADH THAT’D BE GREAT THANKS

[mana-sputachu]

...finally some interesting content on TikTok 😳

His tiktok is here (I tried to embed the video and it didn't work, thanks tumblr).

Also, this is absolutely my Iori in his feral malewife mood (in my headcanons Iori learned how to cook at an early age and now enjoys it. And he knows he looks hot as hell when doing it.)

[ceescedasticity]

Posts from people I do not follow are appearing on my 'following' tab. I did not accidentally follow them because it is inviting me to follow them. I checked my dashboard preferences and I don't think they should be there.

The annoying thing— No, that's not fair. I'm annoyed that it is happening. It's just weirder to complain about it when they have been interesting posts thus far.

[harveybwabbit92]

[your-dads-filing-cabinet]

Hey if you delete a side blog are you still at risk of deleting your main?? Time sensitive question

[rainyfestivalsweets]

10/23/23

And MY bullshit continues:

I normally don't eat until past noon.

I had a huge bowl of chili .... and wanted chocolate.

So I ate cayenne pepper almonds.

And THEN I ate chocolate in the form of a pure protein chocolate bar.

Shit.

Then I wanted more chocolate.

So I sprayed "empower"...... and am drinking water.

But I want/need a nap.