#abuse impl cw

[toydrill]

why do you affect me? why do you affect me still? why do you hinder me? why do you hinder me still? why do you unnerve me? why do you unnerve me still? why do you trigger me? why do you trigger me still?

enclosed below, an open letter to no one in particular:

when i was a child, my mom taught me that there was no greater way of showing your love than to keep those close to you from embarrassing themselves.

i can't blame her-- i love her and know her intentions were always pure. but i learned very quickly that love wasn't like what i read in books or watched in anime and TV.

love is discipline. love is a sense of tolerance that hangs by a thread. love is "i don't even want to see you." love is your phone smashed against the wall. love is spit on a car window.

love is criticism. love is 'have you ever thought about how this would make me look?'. love is inhale, hold for 5, exhale. love is a sore scalp, arms rubbed raw, gums bleeding. love is a mirror that's indistinguishable from the toilet bowl.

love could be scary and was often humiliating and shameful. i knew this. i experienced it every day. but i loved regardless. i didn't know any other way to show people i cared.

it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that i’ve hurt many people in my life by my own actions. i’m not afraid of admitting that.

i spent my adolescence embarrassed of myself and constantly putting others down who weren’t. i couldn't understand an unabashed love of self: a love for yourself not filtered through the lens of another person's approval. i spent my teens abandoning those who cared about me the most to debase myself for attention. for money. sex. anything. now, i spend my adulthood now a victim of my own self-flagellation, unable to truly connect to others and inadvertently hurting them because of it.

since i moved out of my parents' home, i've found myself more able to enjoy things i would have been humiliated to have been caught dead liking. learning that i don't need to be consumed by others to be valuable. trying to communicate my thoughts more with the people that are still in my life. that doesn't mean the guilt is ever going to leave me, though. every horrible thing i've ever said or done hangs above my head like the sword of damocles. the punishment does not stop coming, even for the implication of a mistake.

i've tried to think of everything i could possibly do to make amends with those i've hurt the most: any action i could possibly take or thing i could say that would show them a fraction of my feelings. i think about them when i see things they would like. think about them on holidays. celebrate their birthdays silently and alone. i want to reach out, but i know in reality that will not help. it's not up to me, and i think that desire, among other things, is a testament to how much i still fear a lack of control over how i'm seen by other people. maybe i'm too hard on myself, i don't know.

it feels deserved.

regardless, all i can do now is love. it's scary, but there are more than enough people in the world who can show me how to do it right.

[undertalekinfessions]

why don't i have a good family!!! why doesn't chara have a good family!! why!! can't!! we be back!!! with the dreemurrs again!!!! - azzeriel

[kim-poce]

For the angst or comfort! (I think this could be comfort, although it seems to lean more towards angst)

They flopped onto the bed, a million things running through their head. But all of it could wait until tomorrow, for now they wanted to snuggle down in the soft blankets and sleep.

Angst or Comfort Game - Masterlist

CW: impled past abuse, fear of future abuse.

=-=

They flopped onto the bed, a million things running through their head. But all of it could wait until tomorrow, for now they wanted to snuggle down in the soft blankets and sleep. After all, the problems, the dangers, and everything wrong in their life would still be there the next morning, as it always is, but the comfy blanket and the stranger’s kindness would vanish soon.

Whumpee woke up before the sun rose, they couldn’t remember their nightmare but the cold sweat covering their body made it clear that they had had one, they waited for a bit while holding their breath, hugging the pillow in an attempt of making their heartbeat less loud. They waited for eternal seconds before deciding that the stranger hadn’t woken up, luckily they hadn’t talked in their sleep this time.

They weighed their options, which was so much easier now that the hunger and the exhaustion wasn’t fogging their thoughts.

Option 1: They could stay. They could try their luck with this new person, and see just how much freedom they must give up in order not to anger this unknown person, with unknown temper and rules.

Option 2: They could try to run away. This was risky, and someone as useless as them would have a hard time surviving alone, but at least they would be free, at some level.

Running away was scary, but staying was more, they had to try their luck while the stranger was being kind, because when the facade falls they won’t be able to leave ever again.

“Oh? You are awake.” Said the voice coming from the open door, and Whumpee felt their whole body freezing. They should answer, they should at least turn back and be polite, but they could barely breathe, moving was impossible. “Did I scare you? Sorry.”

They are getting closer they are getting closer they are getting closer they are getting too close they-

Whumpee closed their eyes tightly when the stranger raised their hand just over them, there was no hit, just a small cold touch on their forehead.

“You fever has gone down a bit,” the stranger said, “but you still should rest, are you hurting too much to sleep?”

Whumpee should answer. They didn’t. They couldn’t.

“... I see,” the stranger said, Whumpee had no idea what their were thinking, they hoped they weren’t thinking of anything. It would be great if they just forget Whumpee is there. “It doesn’t seem like you are going to sleep now, so I’ll show you something, okay? You fever is almost gone anyway.”

Whumpee hold back their tears as the stranger lift them, carrying them somewhere else, planning something that Whumpee would only know when it hurt them, they didn’t complain, nor did them resist. They only held in their cry and waited.

Their eyes were still closed but they felt when their left the house, the cold soft night wind caressing their bandaged skin, they felt the stranger placing them down, not in the cold ground, but on a wood bench, the surprise made their eyes open wide, and the sight made them unable to close them.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” the stranger said, wrapping Whumpee with their own coat while glancing at the starred sky. 

How long was it since I took time to look at the sky? How long since I could? It is… pretty, indeed, it’s pretty.

They calmed down enough for the tiredness to slowly have the best of them, as they fell asleep they thought about the plans again. Running away was scary, but staying was more, they had to try their luck while the stranger was being kind, still… they could wait a bit more, they could run away later, for today they only want to sleep, they only want to get a bit comfortable.

=-=

[wolfeyedwitch]

CW: impled past abuse/torture, villain whumpee, painful healing, passing out from pain, broken bones mention, conditioned whumpee.

When Poppet confirmed that they had experience with healing by powers Phoenix didn't think they would be that experient. It hurt, it's the pain of the whole recovery at once, but Poppet just steeled themself up and didn't struggle until the pain made them pass out.

The healer didn't stop after this, making sure to heal everything, cleaning the deeper wounds before closing them, putting Poppet's leg in the right position before healing their bones.

After this, Phoenix read the story that their scars were telling, she had thought Poppet got in a violent fight, a one-time thing, but the scars –old and new– were telling another story, one that she would make sure to hear from the villain's own mouth they wake-up.

The first thing Phoenix did the next morning was to watch Poppet, and she stayed there until they wake up.

Bailey didn't remember exactly what happened after they said they wanted the healing all at once. Someone came in to heal them, they knew that much. And given that they had just woken up and weren't in excruciating pain, they probably passed out during the process.

They sat up carefully. They were... in surprisingly good condition, actually. The dizziness and nausea and headache were gone, meaning the concussion had been healed, and their ribs were definitely in better shape than they'd been previously. Their leg was responding properly and without pain. Even their back felt better.

Why would Phoenix waste so much healing resources on them? Unless...

"Good morning, Poppet," came the villain's bemused greeting.

Unless she was planning something that would kill them if they weren't fully healed beforehand.

Their stomach sank like they'd swallowed a rock. She was right there, keeping watch on them as they woke up. Even if they'd thought they could remember how to get out of her base, they definitely wouldn't be escaping while she was watching them like a hawk.

Regardless of whatever else she might have planned for them, she had had them healed. Bailey knew what the proper response was for that, at least.

"Thank you for your kindness," they dutifully recited. "Thank you for healing my wounds."

@cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990

[undertalekinfessions]

gaster and papyrus sucked in my canon. fuck those guys specifically. -a uf sans

[undertalekinfessions]

I sure do love having vivid nightmares about Gaster. it's my favorite thing. thanks gaster buddy for being a huge dick.

[undertalekinfessions]

i love uncomfortable memories completely out of the blue that send me into a panic. Thanks Sans! -a swapfell pap

[undertalekinfessions]

mind if i hop into the name stories? in my canon, nobody ever really gave me a name; they just called me whatever they wanted. when i fell, i gave myself the name chara because i wanted something original and i didn't like the names, whether they be mocking or genuine (most of them were mocking). - chara dreemurr