#whumptoberday3

[trxsh3banditt]

Whumptober Day 3 Hair’s Breadth from Death

Fandoms: Youtube Egos

Characters: Chase Brody, Jameson Jackson, Antisepticeye, Henrik Von Schneeplestein

Relationships: Schneeplebro

Prompt: Gun to Temple

Trigger Warning!! Suicide VIA Gunshot, SH talk(slight detailed), mentions of rape/abuse/drug&alcohol addiction, past suicide attempts, suicide notes

Any further reading is not under my responsibility, so if you choose to ignore these warnings, that is on you. Not me

Today was the day. The world had just pushed him too far this time and he was done. Done with his constant struggle for custody. Done with the struggle of his addictions and bad thoughts. Done with his exs constant harassment and assault. He was done. Done with everything. Chase Brody, now at his breaking point had no other option. He’d do it.

Flashback to just a few hours ago, he had gone to his ex wife’s home to try and talk about custody exchanges and hoping she’d agree to something..anything.

Chase had been sober the entire day, and knocked on the door. Stacy opened up and rolled her eyes, sending a snarky remark once more. “What do you want? I’m busy jackass” Chase slightly bit the inside of his cheek, keeping himself from going too far. “I..want to talk about the custody exchanges...I would like to know if..we could..uhm..maybe agree on something”

The kids in question were Grayson, age 7 and Samantha, age 4. Two kids they have been fighting custody for three years. Chase would be happy with even only one day out of the week or a week out of the month to see them. Anytime would be nice..

Stacy grimaced and let him inside. 

Although it wasn’t what Chase had expected, as Stacy began to be extremely sexual with him. Despite what they had discussed, it happened again..

Past times while Stacy and Chase were together where were several times when Stacy would beat, or touch Chase in multiple areas while he begged her not to since it made him uncomfortable. Sometimes she’d take it too far then hurt him when he said no. All to keep control and power over him, to make him fear her.

After that ordeal, he just spent hours in the bathroom sobbing uncontrollably as a few of the others had tried to convince him to let them inside and to convince him to talk about it, to no avail.

Fastforward to the present..

Chase stayed up all night, writing this note, putting his deepest thoughts into it. He knew what he wanted to do. And he knew how it was going to play out. With that, he pulled out his phone and started a live, knowing Stacy would see it. She usually always does, just to harass him more. 

“Hey..what’s up dudes. It’s Chase Brody here...” He said, in an almost monotone like voice; all sullen and dark..all..hopeless and bleak.

“I’d like this to be known as my last stream on this platform..I want to say how grateful I am..to have gotten this far. Almost 10 million subscribers who liked my content and me for who I am..” He gave a soft smile to the camera. “But I’m saying this will be my last goodbye to the world..I have been doing some thinking and I feel like it..it’s time..I don’t know how much longer I could handle this..pressure I’ve felt for a long time. I’m not saying it’s any of your faults..none of you are responsible for this...”

He removed his hat, leaving it on the doorknob. Chase took a deep breath..he was ready. Rolling up his sleeves, revealed deep gashes, cuts and other self inflicted wounds. He sighed, rolling them down yet again and pulling out a box from underneath his bed. Opening it, revealed a 44 caliber handgun. An old one but still had one bullet in the round.

Pressing the end of the gun straight for his temple he took another deep breath. “Stacy..If you’re watching this I just want you to know one thing..”

“Take care of the kids for me..I wish you the best and I love you..” 

And with that..he pulled the trigger. With a loud bang, blood and brains shot everywhere against the walls and his door as his body fell, limp..and lifeless.

The next morning the birds chirped, as Henrik went to Chase’s room to talk to him. He knocked. No response. He tried opening the door. It’s still locked.

The German was taken aback by this, now thinking of the worst that could ever happen and he quickly ran to get Anti.

The Glitch responded quickly, telling Henrik to step back before kicking the door down. Once the two laid eyes on Chase’s corpse, which had now gone cold, pulse no longer there they both screamed. The other who was home, Jameson, responded to the screams by running over to the two as fast as he could manage but he to then witnessed Chase’s body laying lifeless on the floor.

Henrik could only let out the most heartbreaking sob, cradling the body of not just his best friend, but his lover. 

Anti noticed his phone, which had now died was sitting where it usually sits whenever he’d do one of his stupid little videos or stream. Beside the phone..was a note. He hesitated, but reached for the slightly blood stained piece of paper anyway.

“To whoever finds this note..” He began, catching the attention of both Jameson and Henrik, whom still had tears rapidly streaming down his cheeks like a waterfall.

“I would like to apologize..for not being honest about the occuring situation between me and my now ex Stacy. Over the past 10 years she had continuously abused, and sexually assaulted me. Some even ending up in rape..but nobody would have believed me if I came forward..nobody ever did. I won’t lie..Grayson and Samantha were a product of such, but I couldn’t bare to bring myself to hate them for something they didn’t ask to be apart of either just as myself..I’m sorry Henrik..for lying when I said I was clean and sober, I wasn’t..I relapsed last week, and I haven’t been able to stop..but today I’ve had enough, I just can’t take it anymore..And before I go..when you find this message, I would have already done it..just throw me in a body of water..or burn my body..anything to erase my existance from this world..I will miss all of you..I love you all..”

“Signed, Chase Brody”

[silvercrystalwhump]

Taunting Terror

This is my Day 3 for @whumptober2021 (I forget the specific prompt, just the theme)

Vincent Shield belongs to @ashintheairlikesnow

Tag List: @finder-of-rings @whumpitywhumpwhump

TW: implied past noncon, Owen Grant, disassociation, intimate whimper, noncon touch (nonsexual), derogatory language, etc

-

Vincent idly listens to Han speak, his mind wandering miles away from the studio. Han practically prances from one topic to the other, half of everything he says has nothing to do with the project.

Ana looks just as bored. Her nails tap quietly against the table next to a beige coffee mug, “Han… our meeting was supposed to begin 15 minutes ago… we’re all here, so why the stalling?”

“Oh but we are,” Han says, waving his hand vaguely towards the door, “A representative from the producers needs to be here before we begin.”

“Why is Marie late,” Ana asks, “She is never late.”

Han, if the uncanny valley was a 50-year-old man, Williams leans back on a heel and watches the door, “Not Marie, someone else.”

Vincent glances down at his phone, 11:47 stares back at him. Before this new setback, he was going to meet Dmitri for lunch. The one thing he was looking forward to today more than likely is going to be postponed.

How in character.

The door opens and a pair of footsteps steps in, “Sorry I’m late, Marie wanted me to have everything on paper first.”

No.

Vincent does not turn around, why would he need to. The air in his throat grows claws and racks a passage down the back of his throat. Suddenly, his shirt is too tight and the air in his lungs is pressed far too much.

A pair of hands, familiar in cursed ways, slide around the top of the chair next to him. Only in his periphery does the tan suit jacket flick into view. Vincent focuses down on the scene and story papers in front of him.

Why?

Han’s lips start moving, but Vincent cannot hear him. Just his breathing… and Owen’s.

Then, the hand on his thigh.

The meeting doesn’t feel real.

Why this… why now?

Even the breathing falls silent. Just the silent drum of fingers on his thigh. The fingertips gently dig into his pants.

Please, leave me alone.

“Vincent!” Ana snaps, ripping Vincent from the brink. They’re standing outside the board room. Ana, face full of concern, watches him tentatively, “Are you alright?”

“Um, yes.” Vincent answers, shaking his head and the icy shards that sit behind his eyes. Glancing down at his phone, the number 12:31 stares up back at him.

“Are you sure,” Ana asks, eyes washing over him. “You went on full autopilot at the meeting the second Owen walked in.”

“I was just tired… and the wait was far longer than it should have been,” Vincent justifies, turning towards the corridor back to where his dressing room is situated. A ghostly hand curls up his leg and brings along with it a shudder.

“Are you sure?” Ana presses one final time. “You don’t seem well, did something happen?”

“No.”

Ana pierces her lips and looks across the hall, “Alright, I’ll see you on set tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” Vincent responds as his mental script closes its curtains.

His mind stays closed as he walks, everything feels numb around him. As if every sense had pins and needles. Every edge is softened, so is how he thinks.

His hand reaches up and barely touches the keypad on the side of his room before.

“You know it’s incredibly rude to ignore someone, right?”

Vincent freezes. The realization takes far too long to settle in before Owen is almost pressed up against him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Owen says, breath touching the back of Vincent’s neck.

“I didn’t hear you,” Vincent responds, impossibly grateful for the quiet footsteps that echo around them.

Vincent pulls his hand away from the keypad and forces his legs to turn around, panic strangling him from within.

Owen raises an eyebrow and leans the tiniest bit forward. “You’ve never been an unobservant person Vince? Are you sure you just didn’t hear me?”

“I have a lot of things to do,” Vincent mutters quickly, eyes flicking from one end of the corridor to the other, “Just… occupied.”

Please leave me alone. Please.

Owen leans in closer, nearly pressing his nose against Vincent's, "I said what was it like."

“What?” I can’t move. Why can’t I move!

Owen’s voice drops both quieter and more possessive. Vincent begs his muscles to move but the ice chaining them together refuses to budge. “Being someone’s fucking whore.”

“I beg your pardon,” Vincent says as he presses himself against his door. The wood panels against his back feel like a cage. A finger pokes into his sternum.

“Almost everybody has seen it Vince, pretending it was experimenting is only going to get you so far,” Owen growls, pushing into Vincent, “I’ve seen it.”

A pair of heels echo down the hall in their direction and Owen nearly flies off of him.

Vincent rights himself spins around to cover the keypad with one hand and type the code in with the other.

Marie walks past and says a few words to Owen, giving Vincent just a few seconds to slip inside his dressing room and lock the door.

As the heel clicks get quieter, a knock sends Vincent to the back of his dressing room.

“You’re mine Vincent, no somebody else fucking whore. Remember that.”

With bated breath, he listens to Owen walk away as well.

Vincent glances up at the clock on the wall, 12:43. He is supposed to meet with Dmitri in less than 2 minutes.

Instead, he curls into a corner of his dressing room, sinks to his knees, and cries.