#depression whump

[nymadair]

I desperately need depression as Whumper in a story, with a Caretaker being maybe a friend or roommate. I'd even love them getting a Carewhumper that was still better than the depression.

[inhurtandincomfort]

Melancholia

Happy birthday Eldwin! I am minutes away from midnight so I'm hoping to write this before his birthday ends lol. A little character study, nothing much. I really want to explore more, and go more in depth in his dissociation, his triggers, how often and how he learns to deal with it, but save that for another day.

CW: Depression, dissociation, depersonalisation, referenced drug use, referenced alcohol use, referenced self harm,some brief derogatory attitudes/language toward the mentally ill (reflections of the setting, not the author) anxiety, self-destructive behaviour, referenced disordered eating, with a very brief emeto mention.... Happy birthday :)

There are days when all Eldwin feels is rage.

Those are his best days. Angry at himself, angry at the world, at it's injustice. An all consuming monster burning through him, destroying everything in its path. It runs hot, almost painful, and he needs to get it out, needs a release before it turns around to destroy him.

So he lets it burn. He finds his kindling in the blood splattered across his face, the crunch of bones beneath his fist. Discovers tinder in agonised screams accompanied by the smell of seared flesh, in glassy eyes of a soul that could take no more. He craves it, yearns for it, and if he gets as good as he gives, well, what's the harm in that? He's still in control. As adrenaline courses through his veins, pain shoved to the background so he can focus on surviving - it's the only time he feels alive. Sometimes it's work, and then Clyde doesn't mind when he comes back bloody, bruised, with a satisfied look on his face as he gets to report a job well done. Other times… Other times it's just fun. Pleasure. An escape from voices whispering things he pretends are lies. It's fuel for the monster, encouraging it to run it's course, burning everything, destroying everyone. It will never go out, so all he can do is feed it and hope it turns it's attention away from him.

Then there are days when the fire runs low, little more than a flickering candle. The fire is satisfied, for now, and is content to sit back giving way only to emptiness. Without fire, he is hollow. His body is a husk, a cold place for loneliness to rest her ever-weary head. Her sadness is his own, seeping into his soul like a child burdened by the all the wrong choices, desperate for comfort no matter whose form it takes. These days are the most frequent, when every limb is weighed down by grief, where it's exhausting just to drag himself from bed and his stomach his twisted in knots, his heart racing for no reason at all as the prospect of leaving his room makes his hands shake, nails digging into his palm just to stop the constant trembling. On these days the very thought of food makes him nauseous, so he doesn't eat. He doesn't cry, not anymore. Such open displays of emotion were beaten from him long ago. Crying was weakness, but he doesn't think not crying made him strong. It just made him empty.

To fill the growing void inside him, he throws himself into work, one job after another after another so he never has time to himself. If there's no work to be had, he throws himself into a bar, pouring spirituous drinks down his throat until he can't even think, until he can't feel the pangs of hunger as his body begs for food it will only throw back up. Sometimes he'll take pills, a momentary bliss bottled into little capsules he keeps in his pocket. Occasionally he'll smoke, less for the high and more for the sharp awakening of a smouldering end searing into his flesh.

He does his job, cleans up to look presentable. He can function perfectly fine. It's not a problem. It's fine. He's fine.

And then there are days when he feels nothing at all.

It scared him, at first. He feels like he's slowly losing his grasp on reality, life and dreams blurring together until he can no longer tell what is real and what is fake. It feels like floating, his mind drifting between realms to survive as the vessel is destroyed, fighting and breaking til it can endure no more.

The captain abandoned his ship, leaving it to drown into the icy depths alone.

"Hey. Hey, you with me?" Clyde snaps his fingers in front of his face as the world slowly comes into focus. Eldwin blinks, everything slowly coming into focus. Clyde's lip curls, looking down at with a look he's seen many times before, in ragged clothes, covered in filth begging for spare coins. "Saints, it's so freaky when you do that. There's something seriously wrong with you."

Perhaps there was. It started out only a few minutes at a time, that day with Clyde can't have more than ten, but as time drew by he found himself drifting further away, his memory filled with entire weeks worth of blank spaces. Time ceased to exist, every day blurring together into one until he couldn't distinguish what happened last month to what happened yesterday. Sometimes he wasn't even sure if something had happened at all. Slowly, but surely he was gradually becoming nothing more than a hollow shell. How long, he wondered idly, as he stared up at the ceiling. How long would it be until he stopped coming back?

He wondered if he should talk to Jowan, but quickly dismissed the idea. The doctor would be less inclined to help him and more thrilled to study a lunatic. Clyde doesn't care, either; as long as Eldwin does what he's supposed to, nothing else matters.

So he just learned to live with it on his own. He grew used to being punished because he didn't do as he was ordered, or he didn't speak when he was supposed to. He took to covering all the mirrors in his room. He hated looking in them. He didn't recognise the person looking back. It was as if his consciousness had been implanted into a mechanical body - it's all he has, but it is not his. He's an outsider experiencing the body from afar, disconnected. Emotionless. Inhuman.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please consider relogging, it really helps the reach and let's others enjoy it too!

[whump-cravings]

Usurper AU - No Escape

TR3 Masterlist

~760 words | Original work: TR3 AU. Weeks after Price & Monster. Changed the name from “Vile AU” to “Usurper AU“ for Ironda x Ironda violence instead of Ironda x Invaders

Content: caretaking from whumper, depression, disordered eating, brief suicide mention, drugging

"Let me be very clear," Peraja said, pouring amber liquor into a small tumbler. "If you kill yourself, I’ll ensure your brother pays for it.”

Hakon crumpled in place, shoulders and head bowed as hot tears and hope slipped from him. Of course the one escape left to him would be cut off. Of course. He was just so tired.

Peraja noticed his posture change, looking at him. "Oh," the king sighed, clicking his tongue. "You poor thing." He capped the crystal decanter, lifting his glass as he returned to his seat. He reached for Hakon, but instead of grabbing, he gently guided Hakon's head onto his lap. "You're under so much pressure, aren't you?"

The kindness, no matter how insincere, was enough to push Hakon into full-on weeping. No one had truly touched him in weeks. Clutching at Peraja like a lifeline, he turned his face into the man's leg, all his dammed-up misery breaking free.

Fingers carded through his hair, filling his body with a warm sensation at every pass. "I know," Peraja murmured. "I know. You don't have to hold it all on your own."

Traitorous relief washed over him, overshadowing the shame of taking comfort from his enemy. Violent sobs wracked Hakon's body as he thought of everything he had been holding onto. The loss of Mother and Father, worrying over Rohisa's well-being, Baltar's pain and his complicity in it, trying to keep people safe, his self-disgust and loathing, how agony filled his every waking moment and many of his sleeping ones too.

Peraja stroked Hakon's head through all of it. And eventually, a long while later, he was left quietly sniffling, the occasional tremor running through him. Exhaustion weighed down every part of him. He ought to have sit up onto his heels, but he didn't want to lose the physical contact. How pathetic he'd become.

The sofa creaked as Peraja leaned over the arm. When he returned to center, he touched something to Hakon's lips. Hakon tensed but accepted the berry. Another wave of tears sprung to his tired eyes as the king continued to prompt him to eat, his stomach already roiling.

It was only a few pieces later that the inevitable happened, and Hakon dragged himself upright as his body began to reject the food. An empty glass appeared in his field of vision and he took it, containing the mess. He grimaced at the burning sensation in his throat, which seemed to get more intense and longer each time.

"Hm." Peraja stood, squeezing Hakon's shoulder before walking across the room to a drawer at the writing desk. Hakon wiped errant tears away from his eyes, raising his head to find Peraja returning with another cup and something held loosely in his other hand. He gave Hakon the cup first, which was just water. He gratefully swished his mouth clean, then managed to swallow a mouthful.

The king then deposited a small disc into Hakon's hand, made of what looked like compressed powder and herbs, and a little honey ball. Some kind of drug, and a sweet to wash the taste away?

"Let's see if that helps," Peraja said as he took a seat again. Hakon looked at him in question, hesitating only a moment more when the king raised his brow.

The drug was indeed bitter and started to fall apart before Hakon could wash it down. He shuddered, slipping the honey candy onto his tongue.

Peraja surprised him by once again guiding his head down onto his lap, and he relaxed into the touch again. He saw the king pick up a book from the corner of his eye, and begin to read while stroking Hakon's head.

Exhausted from the crying and lulled by the king's sedate energy, Hakon easily slipped into a light doze. So it felt only moments later that Peraja had set the book down and once again presented him with food.

Hakon blinked, slowly, registering the touch on his lips. All his limbs were warm and heavy, and the anxiety over food was a foggy memory. He accepted the offering, rolling the berry around his mouth and savoring its tartness. A deep sigh left him.

"That's it," Peraja murmured while continuing to feed him. "Good boy."

Soon, Hakon's response time became slower and slower as he began to nod off. Peraja slid out from beneath Hakon's head, which he only vaguely registered, along with whatever the king did afterward, moving about the room. A comforting weight draped around his shoulders, and he was out.

taglist: @emcscared-whumps @nabanna @dont-touch-my-soup @highprofilerichkid

[moggettt]

@whirlpoolleaf asked: Can I request Murderbot for the sketch request thing? Thanks so much :)

-performance reliability at 60% and dropping-

(I'm a big fan of the idea that mb tends to be very expressive during fights, considering how accustomed it is to the privacy of the helmet)

[lumpywhump]

caretaker who makes whumpee feel wanted for the first time in fucking forever

[drop-dead-dropout]

@plague-agent I DID IT I DID THE THING!!! sorry it took so long I literally ended up rewriting the whole thing and adding a semi-hopeful ending and it turned into a 2.2k words oneshot 😭😭😭 thanks for the motivation lol!!

ANYWAYS OVERLY ANGSTY KIMHARRY ONESHOT UNDER THE CUT SFHJFJNSYXGJVHB

edit: HELP I KEEP ADDING THINGS. KDJDHSNB WHATEVER IT'S MORE LIKE 2.5K WORDS NOW

"Really? Of all the things you could've put in there?"

You look up from your chocolate ice cream, into which you've decided to unceremoniously dump an entire bag of potato chips. "But I don't remember what I used to like with my ice cream! This could've been my favorite, for all I know!"

Kim wrinkles his nose in obvious disgust. "I seriously doubt that, detective," he mumbles, before raising a spoonful of tiramisu to his lips. He hums pleasantly at the taste. "I'm glad we came back here. This tiramisu has certainly redeemed that awful blueberry pie from last time."

"Hey, it's not the baker's fault he didn't account for your ridiculous sweet tooth! Honestly, Kim, shame on you, blaming an honest working-class business owner..." You shake your head sternly, as if telling off a misbehaved child.

DRAMA — You're a terrible actor, but it serves you well here. Kim finds it endearing.

COMPOSURE [Success] - Though his ears flush at the mention of his "sweet tooth"— an aspect of himself he finds silly and immature. He coughs awkwardly and goes back to his tiramisu, a bit too embarrassed to continue the conversation.

As you often do when silence lulls between the two of you for any stretch of time, you find yourself saying, "Hey. Hey, Kim. Tell me a secret, Kim."

He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. "Honestly, I'd think you knew enough about me by now."

"Never! As long as there are still things left to know, I'm going to keep asking."

EMPATHY — He gives you an odd look when you say that. I shouldn't be surprised by his curiosity anymore, he thinks, or his sincerity, for that matter. But sometimes...

He clears his throat. "Yes, well. Sometimes, it's good to not know everything."

You gasp playfully. "Fuck you, that's, like, the most mysterious thing you could've said! Now I want to know even more!"

"That's too bad," Kim says, sipping demurely at a cup of hot chocolate. "Since I won't be telling you."

With a frustrated groan, you take a bite of your ice cream. "Oh, hey! It's actually not bad!" As you tear into your dessert, Kim merely rolls his eyes with an unmistakable fondness.

SUGGESTION — Psst, Harry, over here. You're always asking Kim for secrets, but you don't really seem to get anywhere. Why not just ask us?

I can do that?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Success] — Oh yes, Harry-boy. Give me a turn, I could tell you all about speedfreak Kitsuragi over here. Did you know he pierced his—

VOLITION [Success] — No no, nothing like that. Please, not when he's right there. I don't trust our ability to keep our face neutral. No offense, Composure.

COMPOSURE — None taken. Trust me, I know better than anyone, it's a shitshow in here.

LOGIC — You could ask another one of us, though. I'm sure there's some sort of reasonable compromise here, it doesn't have to be inappropriate sexual fantasies or nothing.

You take another bite of ice cream, trying your best not to look like a deranged lunatic staring off into space. Kim doesn't look too concerned, though— he's used to this, and he appreciates the moments of quiet, too. So what sort of things could you guys tell me? Which one of you should I pick?

SHIVERS [Success] — I could tell you about his life. I witnessed his childhood firsthand: summers and birthdays, mostly spent poor and alone. If you wanted, I could tell you things even he doesn't know— about the parents he never met, two young communard revolutionaries in love. I could tell you how they were killed, and who killed them, too.

SAVOIR FAIRE — Okay, that sounds like a huge bummer. Do me a favor and don't pick that one.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Success] — I could tell you about how he organizes his thoughts, lists and compartments and pages upon pages of notes, both in his notebook and, when it's not available, in his head. I've spent a lot of time pondering what it's like in there, and I think I've got an accurate guess.

INTERFACING — I like this one. It's not quite as interesting as ms. war-and-bloodshed's idea, but it's still good. Besides, learning how Kim approaches problem-solving might actually make us a better detective.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — I could tell you how he feels about you. As a partner, of course, anything more than that is beyond my area of expertise.

EMPATHY [Success?] — …

Woah, what's up with that?

EMPATHY [Failure] — I could tell you more. But... No, I'm sorry, I don't think I will. I can't be the one to show you the inner workings of his heart, I just can't, not when I know exactly how badly he wants to remain unseen. It would hurt too much.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — That's too bad. But hey, my offer's still on the table—

VOLITION [Success] — Behave.

1. — Turn to Kim. "The voices are currently offering to explain all your secrets to me, by the way. So there." (Do not say this???)

2. — [Shivers — Legendary] Tell me about Kim's life.

-1 Way too depressing to think about on some random Sunday

3. — [Visual Calculus — Legendary] Tell me about the way Kim thinks.

-> 4. — [Esprit De Corps — Legendary] Tell me about how Kim feels about me. As a partner.

+1 Professional rapport

+1 More than professional (you guys are pretty good friends by now, right?)

5. — [Empathy — Impossible] No, I want more than that. Tell me more.

-3 It's not happening, Harry. I won't do it.

6. — [Electrochemistry — Heroic] No, no, tell me more about this "speedfreak Kitsuragi" stuff.

-1 Volition is disappointed in you

+1 You really do want to know, though

7. — Actually, maybe I shouldn't do this. (Leave)

HALF-LIGHT [Success] — WAIT! Don't pick that one, please. It's dangerous. It's going to hurt.

REACTION SPEED — What? That one seems like one of the less dangerous options, actually. What are you freaking out for?

ENDURANCE — Ugh, don't listen to that thing. It's just a mangy little dog that jumps at its own shadow.

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — The shadow is dark and cold, and it wraps itself around the one you love, its fingers coated in yellowish-white grains of sand, but it will turn him blue. You cannot save him.

RHETORIC — ... What are you even talking about? There's no sand here. We're in Central Jamrock, not Iilmara.

1. — This is getting weird. (Pick a different one.)

-> 2. — No, I'll stick with my first choice.

[CHECK SUCCESS]

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Oh, no... Harry, I'm so sorry. This was supposed to be the safe option. Just a quick peek into his psyche to see what he thinks of working with you. If I'd known it would be something like this, I never would've...

What, does he hate me or something?

EMPATHY [Success] — Don't say that. Please don't say that... You have no idea how much pain I'm in. You have no idea how wrong you are.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — When Pryce first assigned him as your partner, after a few weeks of begging, you heard Lieutenant Kitsuragi mumble something under his breath. You weren't paying attention at the time, too excited to care, but you did hear him, in the back of your mind:

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Success] — "I won't live through the death of another partner," he'd whispered to himself.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Success] — He'd briefly glanced back at you as he'd said it, almost nervous, his small smile tensing at the corners like he'd suddenly had to fake it.

LOGIC [Success] — He wasn't saying he didn't want to be your partner. Clearly he did, because he is.

EMPATHY [Success] — It was worse than that, so much worse... A promise to himself.

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — He would only do it if you were gone. Ghosts can't save anyone.

INLAND EMPIRE — You cannot save him.

[-1 MORALE]

HALF-LIGHT — I told you it was going to hurt.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is a practical man, more concerned with privacy and efficiency than anything else. He would never drive his beloved Kineema into a ravine, for example— instead, three bottles sit in a lonely box in his bathroom cabinet: cimetidine, metoclopramide, and sodium nitrite.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Success] — The first two are just over-the counter drugs. Their only purpose is to counteract the side effects of the latter.

PAIN THRESHOLD — A small comfort he would allow himself in death.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — None of them have been opened since their purchase three years ago, but if ever he felt the need, he would not hesitate to do it.

EMPATHY [Success] — No. He would hesitate. Even if just for a minute, the weight of it all would be difficult for him to shake. Kim Kitsuragi is a man with an incredibly strong survival instinct; it's just how he's wired. In that moment, he would feel as though time itself was slowing down as he struggled to move through the thick miasma of dread and fear, like swimming upriver through the Esperance. But it would not be enough to stop him.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Success] — His extremities would be blue in minutes. He would be dead within hours, at most.

[-1 MORALE]

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Success] — You wonder, did his hands shake when he purchased these supplies? Did his eyes shine with the thin film of unshed tears when he packed them away in that cabinet? Did he even let himself cry?

COMPOSURE — Or was he as calm as ever, save for the slightest difference in the set of his jaw?

VOLITION — Does it even matter? Either way, he is not nearly as sane as you believe him to be.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — Don't feel too bad for not noticing. He prefers it that way.

EMPATHY [Success] — And do you want to know the worst part? He's happy. He really is, Harry. He loves being your partner and he loves being here, with you. This is just what happiness looks like to him. How it's always looked, since...

INTERFACING [Success] — He refuses to let himself be happy without an exit strategy. One foot out the door. A finger on the eject button. Just in case.

[-1 MORALE]

HALF-LIGHT — Whatever fancy thing you want to call it won't change the fact that he's in DANGER. We need to help him!

EMPATHY — No. You were never meant to see this. Any of this.

SUGGESTION — And besides, what exactly are you going to say? Accusing a random person of wanting to kill themselves, specifically of wanting to kill themselves in response to you dying— it would make you look like a delusional egomaniac at best.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Lieutenant Kitsuragi is NOT a random person! He's our partner. What even are we if we can't protect our own partner?!

HAND-EYE COORDINATION [Failure] — He asks himself the same question, every single night.

[!] [MORALE CRITICAL] [!]

EMPATHY — Stop it! Please, you're hurting me! I can't take this anymore—

INLAND EMPIRE [Failure] — YOU CANNOT SAVE HIM, HARRIER. YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM YOU CAN'T—

"Detective?" Kim is shaking your shoulder, looking a little worried. "Apologies. I usually don't interrupt you when you're..." Communing with the voices in your head, he doesn't say. "... But you started crying. Here, I have some magnesium— you can take it with your potato chip ice cream abomination." He smiles a little, and you know he's just trying to cheer you up.

SUGGESTION — And because you are a pathetically easy creature, it works on you.

[+1 MORALE]

Grinning back at him even as tears continue to well up in your eyes, you down the magnesium with a spoonful of your ice cream. The chips are soggy by now, and it tastes much worse than before, but the magnesium does its job.

Kim huffs a quiet laugh at the disgruntled look on your face. "That bad, huh? Well, I won't say 'I told you so'."

-> 1. — [Volition — Impossible] Stay calm.

2. — [Pain Threshold — Legendary] Punch yourself in the mouth. You won't be able to say anything if you're missing teeth.

[CHECK FAILURE]

VOLITION [Failure] — I'm sorry. It was never going to happen.

"Kim, y-you wouldn't—" Your fragile smile crumples like wet paper as a sob wrenches itself from your chest.

Immediately, Kim's eyes widen, and his hand tightens on your shoulder. Protective. "Harry," he says, softly, too softly, almost like it's not something you were meant to hear at all. Then: "We should get out of here. I was planning to let you stay at mine anyways. Hopefully my couch won't start calling you names, like last time— I was sure to give it a stern talking-to, you know," he adds, forcing levity into his voice.

EMPATHY [Success] — He cares about you so much. It's going to break you.

INLAND EMPIRE [Failure] — We can't save him. I'm sorry, we just can't, there's nothing we can—

HALF-LIGHT — nopleasenonononono—

VOLITION [Success] — You're wrong. Both of you are wrong. We're not helpless, and he's not hopeless. There is still time to fix this.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Go with him. You know what you need to do.

"Of course," you croak out, wiping your face with a napkin. "Thank you, Kim."

—

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — The next morning, long after his partner has left, Lieutenant Kitsuragi stumbles out of the shower and puts on his glasses. He opens the bathroom cabinet to look for his razor, so he can shave the patchy stubble under his chin— only to blink in surprise when he sees that a familiar box, tucked away in the back, is open and empty.

EMPATHY [Success] — He feels so many things at once that it's almost as if he feels nothing at all.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Success] — But it's not nothing, is it? It can't be nothing. If it was nothing, it wouldn't hurt this much. If it was nothing, there wouldn't be any hope.

EMPATHY [Success] — He allows himself to cry. Quiet and subdued, but even still, it's the first time he's cried in far too long. And it's awful and cathartic and miserable and furious and so, so afraid, but if you were to turn the lights off, you might see the tiniest spark in his lungs, the faint glow of something terrifying he can't quite smother. The ghost of his younger self pounding its fists against his ribcage, screaming as if begging for its life—

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — LOVED LOVED WE ARE LOVED WE ARE WANTED WE ARE CARED FOR WE CAN BE SAFE AND HAPPY AND LOVED—

SHIVERS [Success] — Staring blankly at an empty cardboard box in his bathroom, a 44-year-old man lets himself cry openly for the first time in approximately two thousand, one hundred and ninety-six days. After all, he reasons, no one is there. No one can see the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and sliding down his face.

EMPATHY [Success] — No one except you.

[youneedsomeprompts]

~ IN A VOID ~ FORESHADOWING DEPRESSION PROMPTS

requested by: @crochet-cafe request: How can I foreshadow or hint that my character has severe depression? I want to make the reveal a big deal when it happens and catch readers off guard

Feel free to use and reblog!

having other characters associate the person's mood with their character traits ("they're always grumpy")

masking their depression really well but being absolutely drained and a lot worse as soon as they're alone

appearing as a 'neutral' person, when their neutral mood actually indicates the emptiness they feel inside

their growing passivity makes them fade into the background

the more excited other people get the more downcast the person becomes (they get perceived as a killjoy)

they don't accept invitations anymore

they always say they're busy but can't answer the question what exactly they're doing

they show no emotional reaction in a fight

everyone says about the person that they have such a hard shell

they usually have been very caring and sensitive to everyone around them but suddenly they seem like they couldn't care less

for more inspiration/how to help: ~ SHOWING SUPPORT FOR SOMEONE WITH DEPRESSION ~ WRITING PROMPTS

note: If you or someone you know feels that way and really needs help, please seek professional help <3

[lumpywhump]

that odd feeling when whumpee is staring at the room they know they'll die in

[leaperfr0gg]

Febuwhump Day 2,

Holding Back Tears

@febuwhump

Master List

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Side Note,

The dragon tears were so sad. When I found out I was just in shock and felt pretty bad because I shot her for parts. Oops. Sorry home girl. (*ﾟｰﾟ*')

Tried to show the moment he saw what had happened. I like to think the tears would have work with the water covering his eyes like he was underwater and the memories showing through the tears. Not the happiest with this one but the next days worth of Febuwhump are a lot better in my opinion.

[1428elmstrt]

Penny Dreadful 1x2

[weibun-art]

I did it. I wrote a whole chapter!!!!!!!!!1 I spent all of today (14 ish hours) and got 1800 words done. aaaaaaaaa im really excited and proud of myself for doing something i had no clue how to do. I wanna post it so bad but I'm waiting until I have at least the whole story's outline and characters figured out before I post anything I can't take back lmao

oh im even more excited to do concepts of all the characters too. maybe ill show those off before posting story stuff. a couple of ocs to fill some narrative needs.

[citrine-elephant]

tragic chreon hours

chris having to rescue leon, who only barely recognizes him and is completely combatant with him the entire time.

resistant, but definitely not putting his full strength behind the hits. hesitance in leon's eyes as he tries to figure out who the fuck this is.

disoriented, irritated, easily frightened

and chris needing to physically restrain leon once he starts trying to claw parasites out of his own skin

or, leon's fucked up on the good shit. "the good shit" is only good for the fellas who were interrogating and terrorizing him.

[eddywoww]

Working title for upcoming biker gang inmate Eddie fic is The Monotony of Everyday Violence

[lumpywhump]

thinking about a pet whumpee on sale, watching as people pass them by, watching some people peer at them with disgust in their eyes. Shame filling their chest. They didn't want to be sold, they didn't want to be a pet, but they couldn't help the feeling of being unwanted.