#depressive whumpee

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

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.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

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

[whimp-whamp-whump]

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]

[whumpbees]

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

[whump-queen]

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

[echoingalaxies]

Whump drabbles, 7/100: hopeless.

“You can stop squirming,” Whumper said, leaning against the door as they watched the ropes hanging from the ceiling dig into the struggling Whumpee’s wrists. “Nobody is coming for you.”

Whumpee exhaled, out of breath and defeated. Their dark hair had fallen in their sweaty, bloodstained face.

“I know,” they said, then laughed hollowly. “They’ve probably not even noticed that I’m gone.”

Whumper raised their eyebrows, then chuckled.

“Well. You’re stealing my lines, darling. Looks like I don’t need to waste my time convincing you of your own worthlessness.”

“Oh, you don’t,” Whumpee mumbled, closing their eyes. “I already know.”

#100x100 whump drabbles #captivity whump #emotional whump #depressed whumpee #whump drabble #whump drabbles #whump scenario #whump tropes #whump ideas #whump #whumper #whumpee

[whump-or-whatever]

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

[blackrosesandwhump]

March of Pain 1: Depression

CW: emotional whump, guilt

It’s almost midnight, and hero can’t find sidekick anywhere.

His first thought: villain. Villain must have done something. But his gut tells him no, and he listens to it, combing the mansion through, searching. Nowhere. Sidekick is gone. Maybe he ran away? No, he wouldn’t do that.

And then hero remembers: the panic room. He hasn’t checked there yet. That must be where sidekick is hiding.

He punches in the code. The steel door opens slowly, revealing a huddled form on the floor, his head buried in his arms.

“You’re really hard to find when you want to be,” hero says, forcing a laugh to cover his subsiding concern. But the look on sidekick’s face when he raises his head brings the concern right back again.

“I’m…I’m not good enough, am I?” sidekick asks.

“Not good enough?” hero echoes, sitting down next to him. The panic room is cold.  “What are you talking about?”

“The other day,” sidekick continues, his voice a little uneven. “I messed up. I made you get hurt. You could have—”

“Well, I didn’t, so don’t beat yourself up. Besides, you’re learning. It’s all part of training.”

“It’s still my fault,” sidekick mumbles, turning away. He wants to be alone.

Hero gets up, walking back out into the brightly-lit study with a reassuring smile over his shoulder. He thinks he hears through the open door of the panic room a final mutter from sidekick.

All my fault.

@marchofpain

#marchofpain2024 #whump #whump writing #whump challenge #hero and sidekick #emotional whump #guilt #depression #sidekick whumpee #blackroseswrites #whump snippet #whump drabble #sidekick and hero #heroes and villains #whump scene #hiding #it's my fault

[whumperer-86]

The Good Bad Mother ep03 (fainted)

He is paralyzed from the neck down and has amnesia to age of seven years old,, he refused to eat for days so of course he collapsed

the doctor told his mother if he continues that way he will die

#whump #whumper #asian whump #drama #asian whumper #emotional whump #suffering #whumpee #fainted #paralyzed #depressed #refused to eat #mother #son #mother and son #sad #sickmalelead #korean drama #the good bad mother

[clickerflight]

Esial: Part 11 - Phone Calls and Door Latches

Happy new years, guys! This is the last part of this arc. There will be more of Esial, trust me, but there will be a bit of a time skip between this and the next arc. Things are going to get wild. I have a plot line and everything. Anyways! Enjoy!

Masterlist

Part 10

Content: Vampire whumpee, human whumpee, emotional whump, injury recovery, depressive thoughts (nothing too deep but hinted at) loneliness, emotional angst

.................................................

Kyle checked the clock for what had to be the 12th time in the past half hour. He pressed a gentle hand to his side. It was well wrapped in bandages and padding and it was apparently healing well, but it still hurt. He needed to take some meds for it soon. The only issue was Kyle had to take it with food or he would end up throwing up. 

He sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch, barely listening to the cooking competition show he had turned on to distract himself. He needed to get up to make food, which would make the pain worse, which would make the food harder to make. It was an unending loop. In the past he would have been able to ask Joanna for some help but even just thinking about her made his head and side hurt more. 

He closed his eyes, trying not to tear up. His life was a complete mess. He didn’t live near any family who could come help him, Joseph and his bondmate were the closest things Kyle had to friends, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask them for anything. Muir was busy all the time, running himself even harder than before now that he was a vampire and Joseph was always at the rehab center. Adding himself as another load onto them was selfish. 

He sighed again and leaned forward slowly, wincing. He couldn’t even get off this stupid couch. His education was down the drain, he couldn’t work, he didn’t have any family or friends. He didn’t have anything except for expensive medical bills that would drain his funds for finishing out schooling and lawyers calling him every day trying to get him to change the wording in his testimonies in sneaky ways, trying to get him to make it look less bad that his best friend had kept a vampire in her shed surrounded by silver and then shot him in a desperate attempt to sell the guy. 

This was insane. How was this his life?

By the time Kyle got to the counter in the kitchen, he had to lean on it, fighting rising sobs because he knew they would only make his side hurt more. He could cry after the meds had some time to kick in. No crying before then. And maybe he could do it in his bed as well. As a treat. 

He slowly gathered himself back together and opened his fridge, pulling out a container of chili. His neighbor, Barbara, had been bringing him some food now and again after he’d gotten back from the hospital. He wished she would stop. She was friendly, of course, but there was a prideful part of him that wished he had more help than his 50 year old neighbor who took pity on him and took the chance to talk to him as a way to feel a little less lonely herself. He put the chili in the microwave, wincing as he heard the first pop of one of the beans. Who knew how long his microwave was going to be chili splattered before he had the energy to clean it. 

He leaned on the counter again, waiting for the minute to be up so he could stir it and put it in for another minute when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

He closed his eyes against the anguish the sound caused in his soul as he dug it out. He looked at it, dreading to see some unknown number that could be the hospital or another Lawyer who found another phone number to call from, but he had this number saved in his phone. 

Joseph. 

He didn’t know if that was worse. 

He accepted the call and went to lift the phone to his ear, but gave up as pain lanced up his side. 

“Nope,” he muttered to himself, putting his arm back down and putting Joseph on speaker. 

“Hey,” Kyle said, hoping desperately that he didn’t sound like he’d been crying. 

“Hey, Kyle. Good to hear your voice,” Joseph said. Kyle didn’t like how timid the vampire sounded, like he wasn’t sure about how Kyle was going to react to something. “How are you? I meant to come up and check on you this morning but then I figured you were probably still sleeping and I didn’t want to-”

“What is it, Joseph?” Kyle sighed, watching the inside of his microwave get progressively dirtier inside. 

“Oh… ah. It’s Esial.”

Kyle closed his eyes as his microwave beeped. He’d wait till after the call to deal with it. 

“What about him?”

“He’s doing alright. Ah, a little confused, homesick, that sort of thing. That’s normal. He just asked if he could talk to you sometime. You don’t have to do it now, of course. I’m just seeing if you’d be up to it in the next couple of weeks or… you know… whenever.”

Kyle didn’t open his eyes, focusing on keeping calm steady breathes. There were flashes of light in his mind’s eye, a bleeding vampire hovering over him, Kyle himself open on the table. 

A gun to his head, a scared vampire trying to free himself from a woman Kyle had once called his best friend. 

A vampire sitting, nearly naked, in a spot surrounded by silver in a shed. 

“Kyle? You still there?”

“No.”

“What?”

“No,” Kyle said, more exhausted this time. “Look, no offense to the guy, but I can’t. I can’t anymore. I’m so sick of this.”

“Oh… well, maybe we can talk about this later after you’re heal-”

“NO! Joseph! I don’t want to talk to that stupid vampire. I don’t want to ever see him again, you hear!? I want my life back! And I know it’s not his fault but…. Crap, Joseph. Just….. Just leave me alone.”

Before Joseph could protest, Kyle hung up. He tossed his phone onto the counter, staring at it for a long time before he turned. He left the chili in the microwave, he left the TV and lights on, but he snagged a piece of bread to stuff into his mouth on the way past, made a beeline for the bathroom where he took his meds. 

He laid on top of his blankets for a long time, something in his pocket digging into his leg as he stared at the wall. Once he felt the meds start working he buried his face in his pillow and screamed before allowing himself to cry softly for another hour, letting that eventually carry him to sleep. 

…………………………………….

Esial had finally figured out the door handle properly. It amused him to no end to open the door and then just pull the handle down to see the catch slide in and out of the door. He was fascinated by the mechanism and a little tempted to take it apart to see if he could replicate it in some way. He didn’t dare, though. When he’d done that to the ‘lamp’ by his bed he couldn’t get it to work again after and he didn’t want to do the same thing to the door latch. 

He looked up as he heard someone coming down the hall and was delighted to see it was Joseph. And just like he had asked Joseph every time Esial had seen him since the night walk, he asked, “Can I talk to Kyle?”

Joseph reached the door, looking rather uncomfortable. Esial was getting good at recognizing that emotion, especially on Joseph, but his teachers who had started teaching him body language said he was picking it up pretty well anyways. 

“I called Kyle,” Joseph said slowly, but Esial waited patiently for him to get to the point. 

Joseph rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s… going through a rough patch right now. He just got really badly hurt and he’s tired and having a kind of bad time. He’s not ready to talk to you right now.”

“Then next week?” Esial asked. He hoped a week meant what he thought it meant. Or was it day? He knew it wasn’t month. A month was a cycle of a moon cause they both started with an M sound. 

Joseph sighed. “I don’t know when, Esial.”

Esial frowned. “Why not?”

“Because… look. Kyle’s not ready to really be around people much. We should leave him be.”

Esial wrinkled his nose at that. “Not ready? I just want to talk in the old language. That is all. I am not asking for him to kill hippos while he is injured. I just want to talk.”

Joseph gave Esial a look that the isolated vampire didn’t understand. It looked complicated. 

This only frustrated him further. 

“Do I ask too much?” Esial asked, bearing his teeth. “Only talk. Does not even have to be long one!” He wanted to apologize for coming to the hospital, he wanted to ask about certain things that he couldn’t grasp because he didn’t know English well. He wanted to talk in a language he was more familiar with instead of fighting with each sentence and each word. 

“No,” Joseph said. “He’s just tired. He’ll probably come around to talk to you eventually-”

“‘Come around?’ That is phrase with other meaning. He does… he does not want to talk with me.”

“No, wait, Esial, it’s more complicated than that. It-”

“He does not. I scare him?” Esial did not consider himself scary to anything. Not even to hippos. Hippos do not feel fear. He wasn’t very tall, he was confused most of the time, and he didn’t even mean Kyle harm. Kyle knew that! He defended Esial in the hospital. 

Esial growled and Joseph tried to placate the older vampire. “Esial, it’s not that. A lot of things happened, okay? He’s dealing with a lot of bad emotions and he doesn’t know what he wants. This isn’t about you.”

“I do not ask much! I only want to sorry to him! I want to ask thing that do not … not-” Esial snapped his fingers- “In here,” he said, gesturing to his head. “I was hurt! Why bad emotion with me!?”

“Emotions are more complicated than that. It’s, They’re, crap. How do I explain this to you?”

“This why I need talk with Kyle!” Esial said, giving up on following all of the stupid confusing rules of this stupid confusing language. 

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” Joseph blurted,  frustrated. “Right now,” he said quickly, but Esial heard the pause. 

Esial snarled, bore his teeth again and cussed Joseph out with the language that his parents had taught him before backing up and slamming the door, panting as he stood in the darkness of his room. 

He could hear Joseph pacing outside for a moment before he finally walked off, leaving Esial alone.

Esial: @whumpsday @honeycollectswhump @writereleaserepeat @tragedyinblue @hyrules-sleepiest-knight @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thecyrulik @gt-daboss

From Dust to Ashes: @whumpsday @writereleaserepeat @currentlyinthesprial @pigeonwhumps

#whump #esial #from dust to ashes #human whumpee #vampire whumpee #angst #injury recovery #depressive thoughts

[whumpshots]

Whump Snippet Saturday #26

Whumpee doesn't even react when caretaker opens the curtains that keep every bit of light out of their room. They only huff disapprovingly and keep their eyes closed. But caretaker doesn't seem to mind, they just hear them shuffling through the room, collecting the laundry and dishes whumpee just couldn't bring themselves to wash.

Once they finally gather a bit of energy, they get up from their bed, only to see that caretaker has already cleaned the majority of their flat. Despite feeling overwhelmed, whumpee doesn't say anything, only looks at the other with tired eyes when they come out of the bathroom.

"I started making dinner," they say with a smile and nod in the bathroom's direction. "Your laundry should be done in an hour at most, wasn't that much." Maybe because whumpee often doesn't even have the energy to change clothes ... "You want to wash up before we eat?", caretaker asks and looks at them with patient eyes.

Whumpee swallows, trying to find their voice. They nod and sigh, but don't move. Caretaker comes closer and takes them by their hand, leading them to the bathroom. Whumpee feels filthy, but caretaker still shampoos their hair, washes them up because whumpee just ... can't right now.

Once they are in fresh clothes and sit at the table, whumpee feels their bottom-lip tremble at the sight of the clean flat and the fresh food in front of them. Swallowing down the tears, they look up at caretaker, who just smiles at them. "It's okay."

#whump #whump writing #whump drabble #caretaker #whumpee #depressed whumpee #depression #cw depression #hurt/comfort #comfort #emotional whump #emotional hurt/comfort #whump prompt #whump snippet #whump snippet saturday #whumpshots

[ashintheairlikesnow]

🩼 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

[heroes-villains-side-blog]

Inspired by this prompt by @whygodohgodwhy

Idk what I wrote but I wrote so here ya go

“I don’t think of you as a friend, I think of you as a stray dog that came unexpectedly into my life and into my heart.” “I’m a dog to you?” “A stray dog. And, yes, you literally climbed into my open car door, curled up in my lap, and you have not left me alone since. I love you, but that could have gone terribly wrong for you.”

That day… 

I'd spotted a hero-car parked outside my apartment building. Well, parked in front of an apartment building. On the opposite side of the road. But, hey, they had gotten the floor number right, gotta give the agency props for something. If they keep it up, they’re bound to get a right address one of these days. Go get ‘em, Boys and Girls in tights, we believe in ya.

So anyway, I was having a bad day. You know, the works. Fiance dumped me two weeks after I lost my job, three weeks after my first breakdown. I tell myself it’s better this way. Found out she definitely was not with me in sickness. 

I understand the breakdowns would’ve scared her off. Lots of crying. Like, lots. With a handful of panic attacks sprinkled in. Of course, I don't blame her or hold a grudge or think she’s a bad person. But I thought our love was real, y'know? 

But I feel I had a personality switch, I don't feel like the same person I was before, not happy enough, not energetic enough. So maybe I guess I wasn’t the person she had fallen in love with. Well, I hope she had fallen in love with. Maybe, she hadn’t actually. 

What was I talking about? Sorry, my mind’s not what it used to be.

Right. Bad day. My brain felt like it was about to explode. There was pounding inside, like someone was hitting my skull with the back of a hammer. I didn’t want to go back home, I didn't want to be alone. Or maybe I did. Maybe that’s why I was walkin’ the streets hummin' to myself. 

Then I saw it. 

My hero.

Give me a break. 

Well… I shouldn't be so mean. Hero did give me a break. Very heroic of them. Very cliche, but when your life takes a turn for the worst, some predictable cliches can be… nice.

Their car door was open, and I could see they had a fluffy blanket in their lap. I knew it was a hero. I used to be good at my job, believe it or not. So I could tell it was a hero-car and not a cop car. And the staker-outer was a hero with powers instead of a cop with a gun. 

Why was their car door open? Who knows. Okay, I'm trying to sound cool, I admit it. I do know why it was open. They were about to get out, but they were gonna be a slow getter-outer. They had gotten distracted by something on their phone. Maybe the agency had suddenly gotten competent and wanted to let them know they had the wrong building.

So I see the open door. I see a blanket calling my name. I see a hero which in my head means safety, a cop or a civilian would have me killed. My mind is in a bad place. I see safety. I see soft. I don’t want to go home. I’m tired. I see a blanket. It looks soft…

...

“So, why did you walk into a stranger’s car?”

Ex-Villain stopped stroking the rim of their full glass of water, knocked out of the memory.

One day they would answer.

But not today.

They gulped down their water and the fresh pain the memory of that day had brought back.

...

Writing journey:

Used a zeugma! And realized OP used a zeugma in the prompt too!

#snippet #my writing #my snippets #heroes and villains #hero x villain #heroes villains side blog #zeugma #world of heroes and villains #sad villain #depressed villain #hurt/comfort #villain whumpee #hero caretaker #blanket

[whumpitlikeyoumeanit]

whump prompt 143

Whumpee being told it's all right to let go.

#whump #whump prompt #whumpee prompt #depressing

[whump-queen]

ONE MINUTE 

part 1 of a vampwhump collab w @unorganisedalienrubbish <33 (yes I finally made a pathetic lil vampire meow meow oc)

tags: vampire whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, blood drinking, pet whump, mind fucky shit idk, my usual nonsense

ty to beta readers @quietly-by-myself and @whumpsday <3

✧ ─ ༻✦༺ ─ ✧

At last, Rowe took off the restraints, and Aris’ hands were finally free. 

Now, the only thing that kept him tethered to his—owner—was the heavy collar and chain around his throat.

Aris’ head was pounding, but he glared daggers up at Rowe, the edge of his own furrowed brow pressing down into his periphery.

Rowe was gloating, Aris was sure. The way they leaned back in their seat and smiled, looking terrible and smug and punchable as always—

But what could Aris do?

Rowe still held the chain.

Even with his hands freed, Aris hadn’t moved an inch. He may have still been slightly concussed but surely he wasn’t that stupid.

He knew how it would go down.

What would happen if he refused.

He knew he wouldn’t last ten seconds before he’d feel his skull cracking against the floor when Rowe inevitably yanked him down hard by the chain around his neck.

He had learned better than to try anything.

He’d learned more times than he could remember, and Rowe seemed to relish each painful reminder.

So Aris stayed. He loathed how weak he was now, but he stayed just where he was ordered—a spot on the floor just past the edges of Rowe’s shoes.

His knees ached.

Rowe’s voice cut through the silence as though they could read his mind.

“So obedient with the promise of food.”

Aris watched as they smiled and flicked out a switchblade, raising their arm and slashing the blade through the skin where their neck met their shoulder. 

"You've got one minute. Go."

Aris’ shot up instantly—eyes gleaming with a violent red.

Rowe chuckled, amused at how quickly the vampire scrambled on top of them before the first droplets of blood had even begun to drip from the wound. He breath was frantic—his hands clawing at his clothes, and desperate to get at their throat—he’s finally, finally allowed to—

‘You haven’t fed me in so long.’

Rowe felt the familiar stab of pain when razor-sharp fangs pierced their skin. They grit their teeth. Focused their energy right behind their eyes. 

It may have been familiar, but they weren’t sure they’d ever get fully used to it. To letting their pet feed. 

It was a sickly, intrusive feeling—the way the vampire’s teeth would bury in deep and sink down through the layers of muscle in their neck, popping through layers of tendons one after another like tiny, probing needles. 

It felt like minutes in Rowe’s head, but it was a mere instant before the vampire’s fangs hit paydirt, and Aris was gulping down his owner’s blood like a desperate, dying castaway.

Tasting his first drop of water in days. 

Rowe suspected it was probably worse, being starved of blood for weeks like that.

But it was the most analogous experience they could think of, right then.   

The vampire’s breath pulsed warm and heavy against their neck, an exhale of relief interrupted by a little gasp of desperation as he continued. Aris’ voice only got more and more pathetic until he was whining with gratitude against Rowe’s skin, sounding so grateful and reverent to even be allowed—allowed to feed, allowed his owner’s own blood—

‘Oh, it's an honor, sir.’ 

To be permitted a brief respite from the constant ache—

—the chance to not exist in complete agony, if even just for a moment. 

‘That you have decided not to starve me today.’

Yes, he’s so grateful he could cry. 

He won’t forget his place this time. 

Rowe let out a breathy laugh—a poor attempt to conceal the low, pleased hum that might reveal they’d hit that point where it all started to feel…dangerously pleasant.  

Not that Aris was even listening—he was far too lost in the pulsing arteries that ran down his owner’s neck. Tears streaked his cheeks. He was nearly gnawing at Rowe’s flesh now, trying to bury his fangs in deeper still, gulping down as much as he could before his time was up. 

Rowe hummed against their pet’s hair, rubbing small circles into his back.

 “Mm, hungry little thing, aren’t we?”

The vampire heard this. 

‘You say that like you haven’t kept me starved for weeks.’ 

He was surprised to hear his own voice in his head again. It was as though the slightest bit of energy he’d gathered in the past few seconds were enough to restore his habit of talking back. 

He might have even said it aloud, were he not so desperate to never unclench his teeth from his owner’s neck.

Until his jaws were forcibly pried apart. 

Yes, he’d be dead before he’d let anything stop him from taking as much as he possibly could, for the precious seconds he was allowed. 

After all, he had no idea when—or if—he’d get a chance like this ever again. 

.

✧ ─ ༻✦༺ ─ ✧

ok we gon taglist cuz this sat in my drafts finished for over a month 0.0

general whump taglist: @whumpshaped  @whumpsday @emmettnet @a-whump-sideblog  @whump-it-like-its-hot @wolfeyedwitch  @whumper-soot @unorganisedalienrubbish  @kira-the-whump-enthusiast  @hidden-dreamland @whumpedydump @lonesome--hunter @ashh-ed @whump-in-the-closet @oriantthegiant @banditosong @anonymustyou @feralwhump @jieunie-23 @whumpasaurus101 @morning-star-whump @whmp @captain-bo-bob-bobby @the-beasts-have-arrived @spooky-scary-vampires @burningkittypoet @veryroswin @painsandconfusion @skittles-the-whumpee

part 2 is up! link in pinned !!

#beating back my depression w a stick like #fuck it fuvk it vk it poSt HARDD #POST HARD JUST POST IT #part 2 is way longer like 2k words... also been sitting there finished for ages smh #bussitoutig #my writing #akia.txt #whump writing #vampire whump #pet whump #creepy/intimate whumper #blood #blood drinking #whump #aris oc #rowe & aris #rowe oc #whump drabble #vampire whumpee #guys I made a poor lil meow meow vampire whumpee

[quietly-by-myself]

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

#nonhuman whumpee #vampire whumpee #human whumpee #mutual caretaking #emotional whump #recovery whump #aftermath whump #aftermath of trauma #denial whump #whump angst #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump fic #whump community #fantasy whump #depressed whumpee #ptsd tw #fearless story #dhampir whumpee

[bizarorick]

It has been 2 days since the curator messaged a new task. He wanted to tell the curator that he was correct and the family didn't care when they saw his arms.

#whumpee #whump #fanart #inktober #rick sanchez #art #rick and morty fanart #digital art #rickandmorty #whump art #sh #tw sh #tw sh related #fictional self harm #Depression