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ashintheairlikesnow · 8 months

Note

🩼 for my beloved Nate, perhaps from his hand or his leg

CW: ongoing pain as a result of whump, depression, conditioned responses

(Takes place during the first recovery period after the original captivity)

"Do you, um, need anything?" Danny asks the question in a hushed voice from the doorway. With the lights off and the curtains pulled over the window, it's as dark in here as if it were midnight. Nate keeps his eyes closed, denying himself the sight of the lanky redhead who loves him. A man whose love he doesn't deserve, and whose brother stalks around this apartment glaring at him like he knows it, too.

His knee throbs in time with his heartbeat, a constant pulsing reminder. This is your fault. You ran the first time and he broke your knee to teach you a lesson. Didn't learn, did you, Vandrum? You ran the second time and he broke Danny instead.

"N-no thanks," He mumbles, barely audible. His face is half-buried against a pillow. He'd be warm, except he doesn't really feel much of anything right now. Just... tired.

Not sleepy, but exhausted. Tired of getting up, knowing that everything he could have had in his life was already burned down by Bram, long before the cabin itself went up in flames.

"Are you sure?" Danny's voice is a little hushed. Nate imagines the look on his face - nervous concern, worry that it's somehow his fault, even though all of this is Nate's fault. All of it. Every single fucking second.

Nate thinks about telling him yeah, he's sure. Positive. Certain. But Danny would either keep asking, or he'll wander off feeling worse, because Nate didn't give him a way to make it better.

When you mess up, you say you're sorry and then you get hurt so you don't do it again.

His stomach twists. He learned that rule, too, the first time around. Bram loves his rules. Most of them were Nate's before they were Danny's.

"I'm s-sorry," He makes himself say, ignoring the flip of his stomach. He deserves it. He's messing Danny's day up. Say you're sorry and then get hurt and learn not to do it again.

He forces his knee to bend until the pain knocks the breath out of him, until it burns like fire lighting him up from the inside. He drowns himself in it.

Then, when he can stand to speak again, he says in a carefully even, slightly strained voice, "You know w-what, can you m-make m-me some c-... some co-... something t-to drink?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. Yeah, um, of course. Coffee. Got it." Danny's voice sounds like he smiles a little. Maybe he does. "You sure you're okay, though?"

Nate's knee is screaming at him, begging him to stop, unbend, straighten it out, give his fucked-up bones a break. He holds it for just long enough that he might give in and cry out, and then he lets it go.

There's a dizzying relief as soon as he does, along with a rising dull ache to overtake the sharp pain that's gone.

"I'm f-fine," He lies through his teeth.

"Okay. Um. Be right back." Danny closes the door as he goes, and Nate exhales through the pain as quietly as he can. It feels a little better, though. He might have the energy, now, to sit up to drink his coffee.

#daniel michaelson's story #whump #oc whump #escaped whumpee #depression tw #depressed whumpee #chronic pain tw #injured whumpee #original writing

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quietly-by-myself · 4 months

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Fearless - Chapter 9

Masterlist

CW: fantasy whump, nonhuman whumpee, dhampir/vampire whumpee, human whumpee, mutual caretaking, emotional whump, recovery whump, aftermath whump, aftermath of trauma, denial, angst, depressed whumpee, PTSD

===

There were few secluded places on the island, especially for two young adults escaping the Dragon King. The only places that remained uninhabited were those where landmines laced the forest grounds from wars long past.

It would seem like a madman’s feat to build a house where landmines threatened to blow the foot off of anyone who dared to walk the land. However, with Kaloyan’s magic, Nikolay and Kaloyan were able to safely traverse the forest to a field with a beautiful pond.

Nikolay could only imagine that the field had once been home to barracks. Weeds grew where cattails had been cut down. Thistles stung their unclothed feet, but neither of them cared. Calluses protected them from the worst of the damage. Had life been good for the soldiers who’d lived in this scenic little piece of land?

For a moment, Nikolay could forget that war raged around them. That the land he was to inhabit was only abandoned because not even the Dragon King was daring enough to fight there.

The construction of the house was easy enough with Nikolay’s magic. Kaloyan would use his magic to cut down trees and Nikolay’s magic would refine them into planks, then planks into walls and floors. It was their peace of paradise, even as the two slept under the stars while the house went up.

A dock, a roof, four walls, a small kitchen with a stove for heat made of refined river stones - this was their home. The final day of construction was a joyous occasion. Kaloyan went out hunting while Nikolay put the door on the house.

When Kaloyan returned, Nikolay smiled at him.

“Want to come in?”

Kaloyan smiled in return. “More ready than I’ve ever been.”

Kaloyan was the one who turned the knob. Though they’d entered the house during construction, it was different now. There was a magic to it. The house was theirs. It would be their home, in the middle of a forest of landmines, where they could live in peace. As boys turned to men by war, it was all they could’ve hoped for.

The stove soon burned with fire from Kaloyan’s magic. Though it was empty of any furniture, the forest not having had anything to help them make any, it was more home than either of the two men had ever felt before.

Kaloyan approached Nikolay and, for the first time, pulled Nikolay into a hug.

“I’m so glad I picked you to be my bonded mage.”

Nikolay didn’t say anything in return, though he certainly felt the same. Instead, he relaxed into the dhampir’s arms, relaxing for the first time in what felt like a century.

—

A broken door, smashed dishes, and blood on the floor marred Nikolay and Kaloyan’s perfect home. Nikolay hardly remembered how any of the damage had happened. Had he been cooking? There was food on the floor, near the broken dishes.

Looking around, Nikolay realized he needed to get Kaloyan to a bed. Gently, Nikolay shook Kaloyan. Kaloyan let out a heartbreaking whimper at the gentle shake.

“Don’t hurt me.”

Nikolay pulled his hand back immediately, shocked. “Kaloyan, it’s just me. I want you to get to your bed.”

Their beds had been left untouched when Dimitar and his group had raided the place. It was a kindness that Nikolay hadn’t expected from someone like Dimitar. At that moment, though, all it meant was that Kaloyan could lie down for now.

Once Kaloyan was in bed, Nikolay went to the kitchen. He was starving, but knew not to feed himself too quickly after the starvation. With a little bit of magic, the frozen meat that they’d stored was quickly cooked over the stove that was all too easy to light.

As Nikolay took a seat at their table that only had one chair that wasn’t broken to eat, he heard crying. It was Kaloyan.

The sound struck all the words out of Nikolay. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to react? Kaloyan thought that Nikolay hated him. Of course, too affected by what they’d gone through, Kaloyan couldn’t look through their bond to see that Nikolay didn’t hate him. In fact, Nikolay loved Kaloyan more than ever.

Sure, hearing Kaloyan say that he hated Nikolay had affected Nikolay. How could it not? Nikolay, though, hadn’t been hurt by it. Rather, it had infuriated him. It had hurt him to see his best friend say that - only because Kaloyan had been abused so badly. Nikolay was tormented by seeing his friend so severely mutilated, mentally and physically.

Kaloyan had gotten it worse than him. Nikolay was sure of it. As much as Nikolay hated to admit it, Kaloyan was just more sensitive than him, too. Everything affected Kaloyan more than Nikolay.

How the hell was Nikolay supposed to help Kaloyan? The words of the mage came back to him, but Nikolay hadn’t been traumatized. He’d fought back. He’d escaped and rescued Kaloyan. To say he was traumatized would be a lie. Kaloyan was the one who was traumatized.

So why then did they need to follow the path of healing together, if Nikolay wasn’t traumatized?

Fuck.

Never before had Nikolay felt so helpless. Not with the Dragon King. Not with his father’s death. Not with anything. Why? Why had Kaloyan been hurt? Why the innocent one?

Why are you guilty if Kaloyan is innocent?

That question planted in his head by that ancient mage echoed in Nikolay’s head. Nikolay had no good answer to it. What was wrong with him? He was the strong one. Why couldn’t he be stronger?

The days passed slowly. Kaloyan showed a smile to Nikolay, but Nikolay knew the truth - Kaloyan was getting worse. Between the crying and the nightmares that woke them both up, Nikolay knew Kaloyan was slipping away. Kaloyan was a shell of the person who was his best friend. Nikolay didn’t know what to do.

In his head, Nikolay cried to some higher power, the goddess he’d worshiped for years but who’d forsaken Nikolay, for help. He needed help. Kaloyan was hurt. Kaloyan was hurt. Nikolay-

Nikolay was hurt, too.

Just admitting that made the helplessness fifty times worse. How was he supposed to help Kaloyan when he himself was hurt?

His hands weren’t the same. When he tried to fix the legs of the chairs Dimitar’s followers had broken, his hands couldn’t wrap entirely around the chair legs.

Nikolay was weak. Why had he fought so stupidly? Why couldn’t he have been smarter? Why? Why was life like this? Why had his goddess forsaken him? Why had his father died? Why had he fallen for the Dragon King’s lies?

Drowning was the only word Nikolay could put to his emotions. He was running out of oxygen, sinking, confused, and unable to find his way to the surface. The tight feeling in his shoulders and chest never went away.

Wheezing. Gasping. Heaving. What was he supposed to do?

Nikolay did the only thing he knew how to - throw himself into work. Kaloyan spent most of his time in bed and was refusing to eat. Nikolay didn’t blame him. However, Nikolay needed to work. He knew it was dangerous to feel so helpless and work was the only way he could stop feeling.

Working on the house was no easy task. Besides the door that had been broken in, all the windows needed repairs. The roof had been in a state of disrepair for a while - Nikolay needed to fix that. He needed to check the integrity of the foundation. He needed to help Kaloyan.

Fixing the house was helping Kaloyan. How could Kaloyan feel safe in a house that bore the damage of his tormentor?

So, Nikolay fixed the house. The door came first, then the windows. However, as Nikolay got to the roof, he noticed something. When he’d try to manipulate the logs into planks, they wouldn’t become smooth. They wouldn’t feel weatherproof as Nikolay had intended.

Yes, helplessness was indeed dangerous for someone of his magic. He was losing his magic. He was becoming Tainted.

However, helplessness fed into helplessness. How was Nikolay supposed to break the cycle? Sure, he’d broken the cycle of violence, but violence had replaced itself with helplessness. After all, if he couldn’t fight it, how was Nikolay supposed to fix it?

Sitting by one of the walls where a bullet hole pierced pristine wood, Nikolay found his heart full of ire. Why couldn’t he just be stronger? Kaloyan needed him to be strong. Yet, somehow, Nikolay couldn’t be strong.

As he tried to fix the hole, manipulate the wood around him to repair it, his magic fizzled.

Damn it all.

Resigned for the first time in a long time, Nikolay buried his face in his hands and cried, trying to keep the noise down so as to not alert Kaloyan.

Nikolay was going to become Tainted. He was going to become like the beast that had hurt Kaloyan. The beast that had hurt him. He was traumatized by that beast. That trauma was going to be his downfall.

Tears rolled down his face as he realized that Kaloyan would truly hate him. Not words that Dimitar would force out of his mouth, but true, unadulterated hatred for a beast.

Nikolay wanted to stop it. Nikolay wanted to change himself. He wanted to be strong. As he sat there, sobbing quietly, though, Nikolay realized that he never would be again. He would become Tainted and Kaloyan would hate him, if Kaloyan didn’t die in the process.

===

Tags: @whumpsday, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpworld, @darkthingshappen, @pigeonwhumps, @rabass, @whither-wander-whump, @whumpshaped, @espresso-depresso-system, @oddsconvert

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galaxywhump · 1 year

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if you're interested and willing: would love to see wren having a bad day (depressed/frustrated/etc) and seeking out comfort from daniel unprompted, and daniel's reaction to that

[SV-240 masterlist]

contents: forced relationship whump, slavery whump, creepy/intimate whumper, depression, creepy comfort.

~~~

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

At least, Wren thinks, Daniel still knows that something must be wrong when he sits down next to him of his own free will; and something must be even more wrong when he leans his head against his captor's shoulder.

It's not a good day. He's not in any physical pain, he hasn't been tortured in a while, but that just means that torture is approaching, which doesn't help.

It's just depression, really. It almost feels trivial in this nightmare, but he can't deny there's no way to avoid depression in his situation, and… maybe it had been there even before the kidnapping.

Apparently it took being kidnapped and sold for him to realize his mental health has been in shambles for a while.

Today he needs comfort, but continuously reminding himself that he’s going to escape does not cut it. He needs touch, contact, but the only person who could provide it is the one who’s been hurting him this whole time, making him depressed.

Maybe he could make it work, get that much needed touch and closeness while forgetting that it's Daniel giving it to him.

"Can you be quiet?" Wren mutters, closing his eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I just need you to hold me and not say anything and let me feel like shit in peace."

Daniel huffs, amused, and wraps his arm around Wren, holding him closer. Wren is tense at first, but when he realizes that Daniel seems to have agreed, he allows himself to relax in his embrace.

“You know you shouldn’t be ordering me around, right?”

“I’m not,” Wren groans. “If you want to punish me, then whatever, but later. Please.”

“Alright.” Daniel’s voice is soft, affectionate, and Wren doesn’t know - nor does he care, really - whether the word carries with it the promise of punishment or forgiveness.

Daniel goes back to reading - Berkeley had brought some new books, so he has plenty to read; on second thought, Berkeley’s recent visit might have contributed to Wren’s foul mood - not saying another word. Wren takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes closed, and tries to get far away from the house. He’s curled up on a couch, or an armchair, or a bed, in a living room, or a bedroom, it doesn’t matter; he’s sitting on something comfortable, and, more importantly, he’s being held by… someone. Someone without a face or a voice, who, after a minute or two, starts to run their hand up and down Wren’s arm, gently, like they could never do harm.

He knows their name and just how much harm they’re capable of doing, but he has to pretend he doesn’t. Right now the person is nothing more than a source of comfort he so desperately needs, and they want nothing in return. He’ll have to open his eyes eventually, face his captor’s delight at him seeking out his touch like this; it’s the price he’ll have to pay for this moment of peace.

Eventually, when he escapes, there will be no price. Until then, trading tiny bits of his determination for tiny bits of comfort is all he has.

~~~

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between @whatwasmyprevioususername @procrastinatingsab @funky-little-glitter-bomb @goneuntil @redstainedsocks @luminouswhump @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @renkocchi @whump-only @muddy-swamp-bitch @girlwithacoolcat @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @sophierose002 @whump-headspace @to-whump-or-not-to-whump @kixngiggles @ohwhumpydays @whumpvp @wibbly-wobbly-whump @stab-the-son-of-a @his-unspoken-words @pumpkin-spice-whump @onlyhappywhenitpains @suspicious-whumping-egg @morning-star-whump @burtlederp @there-will-always-be-blood

#slavery whump #forced relationship whump #creepy whumper #creepy comfort #intimate whumper #depressed whumpee #defiant whumpee #wren rackham #daniel rooney #sv-240 #my writing #thanks for the request!#i know it's very short but i hope you like it!

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thewhumpcaretaker · 4 months

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Antidepressants in Whump

TW: Depression, mention of suicidal ideation

Antidepressants that leave a hollowness even worse than sadness.

Antidepressants that change whumpee's life, administered by caretaker.

Whumpee recovering enough from their trauma (thanks to caretaker) that they can ease off of their meds - but the withdrawals are torture.

Caretaker learning whumpee is depressed when they find whumpee's meds by accident.

Caretaker finding out that whumpee has secretly gone off their antidepressants.

Dealing with side effects.

Running out of meds in a situation that doesn't allow them to get a refill, during an already emotionally overwhelming time.

Starting a new medication that doesn't work and triggers a suicidal spiral.

#whump #emotional whump #mental illness whump #angst #depression whump #antidepressant whump #medical whump #depressed whumpee #whump ideas

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montammil · 1 year

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As an request idea: to help Marshall with his current state, Lawrence could take him on a walk or do a picnic (with precautions of course) 🤔

Sorry it's a little short, but I had a lot of fun making this!!

CW: Parental whumper, developing Stockholm syndrome, depressed whumpee, food, slight infantilizing behavior, trackers, mention of sedation, manipulation,

...

"Hey, buddy," Lawrence says in a soft tone, sitting on the edge of his bed. "How did you sleep?"

Marshall has no expression on his face. "Fine."

Lawrence grimaces at his reaction. Sure, the past few days haven't been ideal for either of them, but he never thought Marshall would keep up this emotionless act. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. At least he won't flinch away… "How about we do something today?"

"…hm?" Marshall looks up at him.

"Great, I got your attention!" Lawrence claps his hands together. "Why don't we do something? We could walk to the beach and have a picnic! Doesn't that sound fun?"

Briefly, the only expression on Marshall's face appears to be disgust. Then it's gone and his expression returns back to normal. "I'm fine."

"What?" Lawrence really thought he wouldn't pass up this opportunity, since he never lets him outside, not after that little incident. "But it'd be fun! It's sunny out, you need to get some vitamin D, anyway. Hey, we could even go swimming, if you want!"

Marshall doesn't respond, eyes glazed over with disinterest.

Lawrence sighs. "Alright, no more of this. C'mon, up we go!" He hoists Marshall in the air. "I'll carry you the whole walk there if I have to."

Frowning, Marshall tries to wiggle free from his grasp but can't. His small arms struggle futilely against Lawrence's grip.

"Nope, no wriggling," Lawrence sing-songs. He plops Marshall on the couch and starts preparing some sandwiches, specifically jelly sandwiches, which he knows are Marshall's all time favorites-- with the crusts cut off, of course!

When he comes back, Marshall is hugging his knees and staring at the floor. He does not look happy, but he hasn't looked happy in a while. Lawrence tells himself that he can turn this around.

Lawrence pulls him up by his hand, his free one holding onto a basket of food, as well as a blanket inside said basket. He manages to pull the smaller man upwards, who's still nothing but a little boy in Lawrence's eyes, so of course it's easy. "I want to hear no complaining, mister."

"But--"

"Not a single word."

"Ughhh…"

"Come on, you'll survive." Lawrence leads him outside. For once, he's truly positive Marshall won't try anything stupid like running away or calling for help-- not that there's anyone to call for, anyway. He wouldn't call it breaking him, but that's essentially what he did.

Marshall gets dragged by his wrist outside. The walk to the beach is only ten minutes, and then they're there, Lawrence lets go to drape a blanket onto the sand. He opens the basket and sits down on the left side, patting the right expectantly.

Mumbling quietly, Marshall sits on the right side, putting his head on his knees. He refuses to make eye contact, even though Lawrence keeps giving him encouraging smiles.

Lawrence grabs something out of the basket-- sunscreen. "Hold still, kiddo." He applies the sunscreen to Marshall's face and exposed arms. "There we go! Don't want you burning up, now do we?" He kisses his head.

Suddenly, Marshall looks at him. "Why are you trusting me again?"

"Because everyone deserves a second chance." Lawrence starts getting the food out. "Besides, it's not like I didn't add a tracker to you."

Marshall freezes. "What?"

Popping a grape into his mouth, Lawrence nods. "Sure did! While you were sleeping, I decided it'd be the best way to get it done. Since you were sedated, of course, you didn't have much of a reaction."

"How…" He trails off. "How can you talk so calmly about this, like it's completely normal and NOT fucked up?!"

Lawrence's expression darkens. "You're walking on thin ice. I don't like it when you curse." When he's met by Marshall's fearful silence, he continues, "They were just safety precautions, Marshie. Think of it this way: if you went missing, possibly hurt and I have no idea where you are, something bad could happen! I need to be there for you. It's my duty."

Picking up the sandwich, Lawrence takes a bite, letting Marshall stew in silence.

"Please let me go," Marshall pleads after a long pause. "Please, I won't tell anyone. Please."

"I don't care if you tell anyone, because guess what? There's no way you're leaving me, kiddo." Lawrence puts a jelly sandwich on his plate. "Now just eat and stop thinking of things that'll never happen."

A tear falls from Marshall's face.

Lawrence immediately pulls him in for a hug. "I'm sorry, sweetheart… I didn't mean to make you cry, but hey! Look at this wonderful new home you have, and you have an even better father, now! Your new life is so much better than your old one, I doubt you could even really call that a life. Your own parents kicked you out. Do they sound like people who care more than I do?"

Marshall doesn't retort that statement, because as much as it hurts to think, maybe Lawrence does care more… He went from having neglectful parents and a messy, cluttered home, to an attentive one with a large, organized home. He hates himself for thinking of Lawrence as his parent, even if for a brief second; or that place he just accidentally called home.

"I know you're stressed, marshmallow. I know this'll take a lot of time, but I'm willing to be patient, as long as you're willing to try. For me?" Lawrence pulls away to cage Marshall's head in his hands, making him look up at him.

"Okay." Marshall feels like he just signed off his soul to the devil, considering the wide grin Lawrence gives.

#whump #parental whumper #tw infantilism #lawrence oc #marshall oc #manipulation #tw manipulation #manipulative whumper #stockholm syndrome #tw stockholm syndrome #depressed whumpee #tw food #whump ocs #whump writing #cold cold eyes

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scratchandplaster · 2 months

Text

FEBUWHUMP DAY 16 - Came back wrong

CW: Elliot having a bad time

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Only dimmed light in sight, no music, no "WELCOME HOME" banner.

Thank fucking god, that was the last thing Elliot needed. His mother had promised him to lay low, even though her enormous relief about freeing him from his hospital room was palpable, there would be no festivities.

This was barely an occasion to celebrate.

His bags tucked under her arm, her own gloves between her teeth, Evelyn let the keys slip out of the lock and pushed the door shut.

"Do you need-"

"It's okay, honey. I got this," she mumbled around her gloves. Dropping the luggage next to their shoes, Elliot slowly but carefully peeked inside the living room to find the source of the soft lighting.

The blurry shape was barely visible, nonetheless familiar. Evelyn watched her husband slumped over on the couch, she had filled Elliot in beforehand: how his father had just returned from a three-week commission, how knocked-out he was from the hours on the road, how he still tried to fix the leak under the sink.

Instead of letting dripping water invade their home, her flame of life had placed three sushi bowls and a now lukewarm bottle of Coco Rico on the table.

"Oh, I think he wanted to surprise us," she whispered, her voice a mix between awe and infatuation.

The concluding discussion with his physician had taken longer than expected, then again, maybe it was better that way. Elliot needed more time.

"Don't wake him up, please. We can catch up tomorrow."

"Alright. I prepared everything in advance, you don't have to lift-," Evelyn quickly bit her tongue, "do a thing."

She stuffed the bags in his room and the food in the fridge, after Elliot made it clear he was certainly not hungry. The thought that his dad would ask what everyone already worked through made him sick to his stomach.

"I'm fine," he mouthed apologetically when his mother joined them and put a blanket over her tired boys. She felt helpless, just as her son did since he set out for his last rehearsal. His pinky twitched.

Perched motionlessly between both parents, Elliot looked for a crumb of the security he didn't believe in anymore.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

#whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump drabble #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday16 #stack the deck #elliot ribera oc #depressed whumpee #ptsd

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 3 months

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The Edge

I know we all know I write whump and that I put my trigger warnings in the tags, but this one might hit pretty close to home so you're also getting a trigger warning before the snippet. TW: Suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide. I wrote this one as a way to process some stuff I'm going through so it might be more dark and angsty than what you're used to seeing from me.

-------

Hero heard the sound of Villain’s footsteps across the rooftop. They barely turned their head when the criminal sat down next to them, their feet dangling over the edge. They had met many times here before, but unlike those other times, an unsettling silence hung in the air.

“So…” Villain started.

“So.” Hero finished.

“You weren’t yourself this afternoon,” Villain said, “I mean, I know I’m pretty skilled, but you barely managed to dodge any of my attacks. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get hit.”

Villain’s tone was light, but Hero could hear the concern laced underneath. When they didn’t speak, Villain’s eyes widened in realization.

“You were trying to get hit,” they said, “…why?”

Hero still didn’t speak. They stared at the cars passing by on the street below. They thought about how easy it would be to just hop off the ledge and let one ram into them. It’s not like they had flight powers, so everyone would think it was an accident… no one would blame themselves… well, Villain might for not catching them, but they’d get over it soon enough.

Villain cupped Hero’s face and turned their head, forcing them to look in their eyes. Hero blinked dully at them.

“Hero, are you…okay?”

That sent them over the edge. The tears welled up in their eyes, then started to fall. It had been so long since they were able to cry, it was kind of nice to feel the tears stain their cheeks. Once they started though, they couldn’t stop, despite their attempts to do so. The silent tears turned to quiet cries, which turned to sobs, which turned to loud wails that surely everyone in the vicinity could hear.

Hero felt Villain pull them into their chest and rub their hand up and down their back.

“Shhh,” they soothed, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve noticed sooner.”

Hero continued to sob for several minutes. Every now and then, they’d go silent for a moment, but then the screams would start right back up. After what felt like forever, their cries died down to the occasional hiccup and sniffle.

“How long have you been feeling this way?” Villain asked softly.

“Three weeks,” Hero whispered.

Villain cursed quietly.

“I’m going to help you,” they said, “come with me.”

“No one can help me.”

“I can,” Villain said, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I’m tired, Villain,” Hero said, “I’m tired of fighting, I’m tired of failing, I’m tired of being here. I don’t want to be here.”

Hero peeked out from Villain’s chest at the city below. They could make it stop… right now. All they had to do was-

Hero couldn’t move. Villain had a firm grip on them.

“I can’t let you do that,” they said sadly.

Hero had leaned over the edge of the rooftop; Villain’s hold was the only thing keeping them from plummeting to their death. They hadn’t even realized they had tried to move.

“What are you going to do?” Hero asked numbly.

“I said I’m going to help you,” Villain replied, “I’m going to take you back to my base and I’m going to get you someone to talk to.”

“Not the psych ward,” Hero said quickly.

“No, not the psych ward,” Villain agreed, “but you shouldn’t be left alone right now. Come on.”

Villain helped Hero to their feet. Hero felt dizzy, exhausted, and numb. They lifted them into a bridal carry; Hero didn’t resist. They flew from the rooftop back to their base, while Hero closed their eyes, their head resting against Villain’s chest.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

#hero x villain #whump #angst #suicide #tw suicide #depression #depressed hero #hero whumpee #villain caretaker #writeblr #writing #creative writing #snippet #heroes and villains

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whimp-whamp-whump · 1 year

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CLIP YOUR WHUMPEE'S VOCAL CORDS !!!! :D

force their jaw open - perhaps whumper has a friend <3 or simply uses a contraption - and just let them eyeball it ! there's no need for much precision ... all that matters is being unable to hear whumpee's cries ^^

debark them.

#whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump prompt #medical whump #laboratory whump #labwhump #voice whump #this actually has a lot of issues that can follow up!!#things like helplessness and anxiety and depression; loss of communication and inability to express ..#dehumanize your whumpee #mouth whump #pet whump #unconventional whump #maybe????????? unconventional to me (i hardly see this in the community)#unconventional whump prompt #am i thinking of my current oc? ........ yes yes ofc i love them sm [they hardly see the light of day]

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whumpbees · 5 months

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Slow burn whump. The kind of pain that creeps up on you, that seeps under whumpees skin and into their mind and makes them tired and short-tempered, the kind that narrows their friend group to one or two people they barely keep in contact with, the kind that makes it hard to even Care

#whump #honey posts #whumpee #whump prompt #depression tw

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whump-queen · 1 year

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I love vampire whumpees because ~

they’re just hungry little guys,, you can starve them and then hurt them for not being able to control themselves and lunging at the first sight of blood

it’s so easy to convince them to hate themselve, that they’re monsters, that they deserve this.

#this post brought to you by Kane Thoughts #vampire whumpee #tw starvation #starvation whump #vampire whump #akia.txt #aaaah I gotta eat and get ready rn #gonna try and go out tn to run from depression eeee

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whump-or-whatever · 1 year

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Whumps for an ex-assassin trying to turn over a new leaf or something like that?

Ooooh that’s an interesting one. Let me give it a go.

Whumpee was supposed to assassinate someone but didn’t and their bosses eventually find out and punish them

The internal struggle of fighting years of training

The guilt and moral injuries they carry from everything they did as an assassin (and the depression that comes with it)

Bosses want whumpee back for “one more job”, and use blackmail or threaten them to get them to do it

Everyone in whumpee’s new life thinks they’re just pretty normal until they whip out some crazy skills and everyone is like wow

Whumpee being terrified to tell anyone in their new life what they used to do because 1. It could put them in danger and 2. What if they hate them for it

Someone from whumpee’s old life, maybe a relative of someone they killed, shows up for revenge

An old colleague needs help out of a sticky situation and threatens to reveal whumpee’s past to their new friends if they don’t help

Maybe whumpee received a lot of injures in their line of work and when people see their scars they start asking questions

Everyone kind of knowing there’s something dark in whumpee’s past but nobody being sure about what it is

Whumpee having PTSD from their experiences but not being able to tell anyone what from

People in whumpee’s new life slowly piecing together the story from snippets they get over time (stuff said during nightmares, people from their past showing up, odd behaviours, etc.)

Whumpee finally telling new caretaker about their past and being relieved as hell when caretaker understands and doesn’t just run for the hills

Maybe whumpee has permanent injuries from their past job they have to deal with constantly

The continued behaviours of their past life (sleeping with a gun by their bed, keeping a bag packed, checking for vantage points, etc.)

Someone shows up who whumpee owes a favour to and whumpee’s new friends get really concerned cause what could be serious enough that whumpee would drop everything to do that person’s bidding?

Feel free to add!

#whump #whump prompt #whump idea #whump scenario #whump community #whump tropes #whumpblr #whump prompts #whumpee #ex assassin whumpee #emotional whump #ptsd #caretaker #psychological whump #blackmail #depression

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quietly-by-myself · 1 year

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Comfortember Day 1 - Hugs (Shadow By My Fireplace)

Masterlist

@comfortember

Thank you to @darkthingshappen, @whumpsday, @pumpkin-spice-whump, and @verkja for cheering me on and making sure to check in with me. It means a lot. You're great cheerleaders.

CW: depressed whumpee, talk of recovery and deconditioning, discussion of past suicide attempt, discussion of past minor character death, nausea

===

Like anyone, Sacha had bad days. However, it always seemed that his bad days were less of a rainstorm and more of a rapidly boiling pot of water spilling over, scorching everything around it. They were random, but seemed to happen in little bursts. Sometimes, there was a trigger. Other times, there wasn’t.

When Cyril came inside from his garden, he found Sacha crying with Amber in his arms. He wasn’t full-out sobbing like he sometimes was. Instead, Sacha was just quietly crying, petting Amber in an almost robotic way.

“What’s wrong, Sacha?” Cyril put his tools down on the table and moved over to where Sacha was sitting over by the fireplace. He took his seat across from Sacha, watching him carefully and listening attentively as Sacha looked up at him.

“I’m so broken.” They were both silent for a long time before Sacha was ready to speak again. “Is there any hope for me?”

Cyril could hear the unspoken words behind Sacha’s question: I don’t think I can be fixed.

“As long as we’re alive, Sacha, there will continue to be plenty of hope.”

Sacha’s eyes clouded with some sort of emotion that Cyril couldn’t discern. Something in his heart hurt at the thought. Memories flashed in his head of the dead body on the hospital bed, having to make the grim call of death. Cyril shuddered and felt a little nausea thinking about it.

“I don’t feel alive.”

Cyril looked at Sacha. Sacha was watching the fire with an intent glare that told Cyril that he certainly saw some shape in the flames.

“You will, one day. It’s…” Cyril took a deep breath. “It’s a long process. It took me a year to realize that it was okay to be alive after what happened.”

Sacha nodded a little, though the sincerity was missing.

“Can I give you a hug?”

Again, Sacha nodded. This time, Cyril could feel the sincerity. He pulled Sacha into a tight embrace, holding him like he was afraid that Sacha would disappear if he didn’t hold on.

“Sacha, you’re like family to me. I’ll make sure you get better.” His voice began to crack a little as he continued. “It’s a bad day, not a bad life.”

“It’s a bad day, not a bad life,” Sacha echoed faintly. He hugged Cyril back tightly. “I want to feel something.”

“You’re feeling something right now, Sacha. I know how it is with post-traumatic stress. You feel numb, then it’s like you feel yourself bleeding. It’s okay. You’ll get there eventually.”

Sacha was quiet for a long time, crying a bit into Cyril’s shirt.

However, eventually Cyril heard - well, probably felt more than heard - Sacha speak. “You promise?”

“Absolutely,” Cyril responded without hesitation.

Together they were silent for a long time, holding each other tightly.

“Who would want to be around me?” Sacha murmured.

“I do, Sacha. I do. And I will always want to. I love you like a brother, Sacha. You mean a lot to me.”

With tears in his voice, Sacha found the courage to respond. “You too.”

===

Tags: @whumpsday, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @pigeonwhumps, @darkthingshappen, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @darlingwhump, @maracujatangerine, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @flowersarefreetherapy, @octopus-reactivated, @quietshae, @whump-blog, @inkkswhumpandstuff, @whumpycries, @whumpkinz

#shadow by my fireplace #depressed whumpee #whump #whump fic #whump drabble #comfortember #whump writing #whumpblr #emotional whump #recovery whump #depression

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