#depression whump

[galaxywhump]

Prompt: Wren doing something that's blatantly stupid/suicidal (like going out into the jungle to pick fights with the wildlife) when he becomes apathetic about his own life, and Daniel's reaction to that?

[SV-240 masterlist]

Thank you for the prompt, anon! Sorry it's so late, it's been in the making for a while now and I finally got the motivation to finish it.

Warning: this is a rather heavy one; it's also not canon.

contents: slavery whump, forced relationship, creepy/intimate whumper, suicide attempt (nothing graphic), depression, restraints, comforted by whumper.

~~~

Wren leaves the house without Daniel’s knowledge.

He still has the tracker, of course, but when he left, Daniel was napping, so hopefully he won’t wake up for a few more hours. Wren just wants to go for a swim in the picturesque pond he remembers the path to. He’s unarmed, without so much as a kitchen knife, but he’s not scared. He’s not anything.

There is an emptiness inside of him that has had a grip on him for several weeks now. It’s the sort of hopelessness he’s been trying so hard to avoid, but instead of making him Daniel’s loving partner, it’s only making him… do this. Go for a walk in the jungle, looking straight ahead, not scanning his surroundings, barely flinching when he hears rustling and other sounds of the dense forest.

He’s had these thoughts a few times before, but now he’s decided to follow them. Not directly, even though he knows there are several options inside the house; instead, he lets fate decide, since it seems to control his life anyway. So he goes for a swim. If fate decides he should stay underwater, he won’t fight it, nor will he fight if it decides not to let him reach the pond at all.

He’s clothed, and yet feels so exposed, a puny human in a jungle full of animals he knows nothing about, having only met one, which tried to kill him. Maybe there are others like it. Maybe one is already stalking him.

Keep walking, not running, walking with calm emptiness. Get away from Daniel’s house, leave his life on the jungle’s mercy. He frowns when he feels a small pang of regret. He should turn back. He should live. But it’s too late now, isn’t it? He’s far enough that the way back would be anything but safe, and he doesn’t want Daniel to question him once he returns. He takes a deep breath, clenches his fists, and keeps walking.

There are noises all around him.

There’s a noise somewhere behind him.

Soft steps, a low growl. He’s being stalked.

He closes his eyes.

And then there’s a familiar man-made sound, cracking bolts of plasma piercing the air; one followed by the sound of the animal fleeing, one hitting a tree just a few centimeters left of Wren, making him jolt in place.

“Hi there,” he hears Daniel’s voice, almost playful. He swallows and slowly turns around to face his captor, who’s standing still with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

“You missed,” Wren says, lifting his chin, though there is nothing more to his defiance, no spark in his eyes.

“If I wanted to shoot you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” There is no affection in Daniel’s voice, and Wren prefers it this way. “Have you forgotten about your tracker?”

“No.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows.

“What was even your plan?”

“I went for a walk,” Wren explains, looking him straight in the eye; his expression remains empty.

“Good one,” Daniel scoffs. “You know you’d be dead before the day’s over, don’t you?”

“I do.”

The silence that follows is unbearably heavy. Daniel gets it, and for a split second he looks genuinely surprised before going back to his usual unbothered expression.

“Come here. Let’s go home.”

Wren doesn’t break eye contact.

“And if I run?” he asks. “Will you miss again?”

“I’ll shoot, but I won’t kill you. I’ll target your leg, maybe both, and I’ll drag you back. Now come here.”

He does, his head lowered, brow furrowed, mind blank. The jungle around them is bustling with life, never completely quiet, yet the silence between them feels suffocating enough that it could spread over the entire forest, forcing it into stupor. Neither of them says a single word on the way home.

Home. Wren sighs. Home. Daniel’s house is his home now, there’s no denying that. He’s too tired to deny anything anyway, not to mention worry about what Daniel’s going to do to him after his stunt.

They’re still silent when they reach the house and the door closes behind them. Wren follows Daniel to the living room, sits down on the couch, and watches him retrieve two pairs of leather cuffs.

“You’ll have to be restrained more after this, you know that?”

“Yeah.” Wren puts his arms in front, wrists close together, and does the same with his ankles. The cuffs close, a familiar sensation, and he stares down at them, barely feeling anything.

“It’s for your own safety.” Daniel doesn’t crouch down, doesn’t sit next to Wren, still standing in front of him, towering over him.

“Yeah,” Wren repeats, his voice monotone; he only wants this pointless conversation to end, and Daniel can sense it, which doesn’t mean he cares.

“Look at me.”

When he does, Daniel frowns seeing the weary emptiness in his eyes.

“Why did you do it?” he asks, and his accusatory tone makes Wren flinch, like he’s being scolded. It’s the last thing he wants to experience today.

“Take a guess,” he mutters, lowering his gaze, as if even looking up requires too much energy.

Daniel sighs and his frown deepens. He knows the truth, as much as he doesn’t want to accept it.

“I won’t let you do that, Wren.”

“I know. Cause I have nowhere to run, right?” For the first time today, there is something in Wren’s voice, the tiniest of sparks. “I can’t fucking escape you and this-this fucking nightmare, I’m stuck here and you won’t even- you won’t even let me-” He gets choked up, and to his frustration he tears up. “Fuck, just fucking hold me already and spew your bullshit, I know you’re going to do it anyway.”

Without a word, Daniel sits down next to Wren, who leans against him and exhales slowly when Daniel embraces him.

“I’m not going to spew any bullshit. I just…” Daniel trails off for a moment and gives Wren a light squeeze. “I wasn’t expecting this, and it hurts.”

“Oh, it hurts you?” Wren laughs in disbelief. “Poor you, the guy you’re keeping captive and torturing is a depressed loser. Cry me a river.”

“It hurts me because I love you, Wren.”

“You said you weren’t going to spew bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit to me, and I hope that soon it won’t be bullshit to you, either.” Daniel sighs, a heavy sigh that makes Wren even angrier, which he knows is, at the very least, better than complete emptiness. Daniel doesn’t have the right to feel and react this way, not when he’s the cause of all of this. “And remember that you were depressed even before I bought you.” He feels Wren tense up at that. “You can’t pretend otherwise, it was right in your file. Depressed, isolated, drinking problem. You were lonely, and that made it possible for Berkeley to make you disappear without raising any eyebrows. Now you’re here, I’m here with you, I know about your problems, and I want to help. On my terms and at my pace, but I do.”

“You’re not helping,” Wren croaks, trying and failing to blink away tears, Daniel’s blunt words feeling like a dagger piercing his heart, over and over again. “I wasn’t- It was better than this, I wanted to get better, I just…”

He just couldn’t, and it was only getting worse, until he started spending entire hours - he was too busy to afford days - curled up in his bed, staring at the wall, questioning the point of it all, and he was alone, completely alone, and-

“On Earth, I wouldn’t have been there to stop you.”

Daniel’s words are like a punch to the face, strong enough that Wren would sway on his feet if he wasn’t sitting down. It’s true, he realizes in horror, and a painful sob reverberates through his body; he slumps in Daniel’s embrace, overwhelmed by the most terrifying what if he’s ever had to consider.

“Shh, sweetheart.” Daniel gently runs his hand up and down Wren’s arm and pulls him closer as he sobs, unable to stop, because Daniel is right, and he was so stupid, and in a twisted way he almost let Daniel win.

What could have been back on Earth doesn't matter anymore. Here, if he dies, Daniel wins. It’s a way to escape, but it comes at too great a cost, and now that he can think more or less clearly again, he can’t believe he even attempted that. So stupid, so stupid, and if it wasn’t for Daniel, the very same person he's fighting against, he wouldn’t be here right now.

He won’t thank Daniel, he can’t, but he leans into his touch ever so slightly, and he’s still crying, so overwhelmed by what he almost did and so relieved that he’s still here, still fighting.

“Cry it out, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

For the first time, though he would never admit it out loud, he’s grateful for that.

~~~

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 @whumpsical @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 @springwhump

[thewhumpcaretaker]

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-cravings]

Tortured Prince - Dead Man’s Tears

Tortured Prince AU Masterlist - TR3 Masterlist

2.4k words | Original Work: Tortured Prince AU of The Royal Three. Set pre-escape right before Ritual, with a few possible timing inconsistencies because I realized the last bit would work better taking place at night.

Content: extreme depression, suicidal thoughts, whumpee gone nonverbal, carewhumping, sleeping drugs mention, whumpee thinks they’re being taken somewhere to die, torture and noncon mention, mention of traumatic haircut. “Tears” is said SO much in this bit sorry

Baltar had thought the lightheaded feeling was a hangover from the drug, but an edge of dizziness persisted even hours after Venja had left him. The tiniest movement of his head returned his attention to the missing weight.

The young man sat slumped before his journal—rather, the journal Venja allowed him to use. It laid open to Baltar's the last entry. 'It seems that'—the sentence cut off. What had he been writing? Did it matter? He had meant for it to help him keep his wits about him, but what was the point? If they were wise, his family had given him up for dead. No one was coming for him.

Hot tears escaped abruptly—not for the first time that day. He breathed out a heavy sigh, tired eyes drawing shut. Wiping his tears away would be pointless. They would only fall again.

Venja had carved and carved at everything that made him Prince Baltar. Was there anything left to take? What would Venja do if he came back and Baltar had perished?

He couldn't find the will to wrap his chains around his own throat. Was it cowardice that kept him alive? It just... seemed like so much effort. Did it even matter? He was already dead.

Everything was so heavy. He bent forward, resting his forehead on his journal as his tears stained the pages.

----

The main door opening roused Baltar, registering Venja's return dully. Baltar listened to him moving through the place.

"Good morning," the man called cheerily, voice and feet approaching. "I brought you something, Prince."

Such a statement would normally prompt nervous dread, but now... it was what it was. Baltar closed his eyes again.

"What, you're not talking to me now?" the man said from the doorway.

No more putting off sitting up, he guessed. Sighing silently, Baltar slowly picked himself up. The parchment stuck to his cheek briefly. He saw Venja's boots out of the corner of his eye, but couldn't be bothered to look at the man.

"Come now, you can't still be upset."

Another hot wave of tears brimmed over, slipping off his chin. Couldn't he be? Should he be? Was he? Baltar didn't know anymore. He sniffed, nose congested enough that he needed to breathe through his mouth.

Venja stepped up next to the chair. "Look at me, prince."

Baltar tried. But he only managed to bring his gaze to Venja's clavicle before his weeping blurred his vision so badly that he couldn't see anything. He dropped his head again.

Grabbing his chin, Venja lifted his face. He let all the weight of his head rest in the man's hand, relieving some of the ache in his neck and shoulders.

"What's going on?" the man demanded. "Talk to me."

Baltar had no words for him, only more silent crying. He slumped as Venja let his face drop.

"I could give you something real to cry about," Venja said, hand settling on the back of Baltar's neck. "I've been wanting to try tearing fingernails off."

He numbly accepted the potential future. If nothing else, Venja had taught him that nothing he did or said mattered. It was useless to fight.

The man grunted, leaning down. "What do you think happens if you ram a tube straight into an eyeball?"

Why would it matter whether Baltar could see anymore? He was never leaving this place.

Venja slammed his hand against the chair, making it jerk across the ground a few inches. The barest sob left Baltar, water dripping from his chin, down his throat.

Uncharacteristically switching tracks, Venja straightened and said, "Tell me what you want for dinner tonight and I'll make it."

Baltar couldn't remember the last time he'd tasted something.

"Would you like to see your present?" the man cajoled. "It'd go nice with a hot bath."

Baltar took in a breath as if to speak, only to let it out in a miserable sigh. I'm so tired. If only he'd known the way to get to Venja was to just cry silently, he'd have started long ago. But now it didn't matter. He just didn't have the strength anymore.

"Tch." Venja turned on his heel. "If you're going to be like this, I'm just going to have to come back later. See you in a while, prince."

And that was that. Baltar stared down at the ground, tears still dripping off his lashes. The entrance door closed, leaving him alone again.

Venja had moved the chair too far for Baltar to continue to rest in a semblance of comfort on the desk. And his body ached a little more than baseline from sleeping that way anyways.

Numbly, tears still sparsely escaping, Baltar got to his feet. Wavering, he shuffled the few paces to the bed. Moving the bedspread felt like holding up the sky. He collapsed onto the mattress, dragging the blankets up to his chin.

His dreams only held blackness.

---

He didn't know how long he'd slept when he next opened his eyes, only that he was no more rested than when he had first laid down.

He closed his eyes again.

---

Venja's voice woke him. "You're asleep again?"

Baltar stirred, forcing still-puffy eyes open and softly releasing a bleary breath.

The man's weight dimpled the mattress as he sat on the edge. A nauseating dread balled in Baltar's stomach, and he accepted it. It didn't matter what happened to this body. As he had the thought, a numbing chill spread through him.

But Venja only reached over to brush Baltar's forehead, resting his hand there.

"Are you sick?" the man asked.

Was he? Baltar didn't know. He felt... not good. The number of times he'd felt good in Venja's care were few and far between, but this was different. He gave a noncommittal shrug.

Venja grunted, leaving without another word.

---

"...asleep, like I told you."

"Hey," a familiar woman's voice said, the bed jarring as if kicked lightly. "Sit up."

It took a few moments for Baltar to return to himself. Tears were already in his eyes, though he didn't know why. Slowly, he stirred, getting an arm beneath himself to raise himself up to sitting. He slumped in place, his head spinning.

It was Imota, one of the people who had helped kidnap Baltar. She had been the prince's de facto physician in captivity, and eyed him critically now with a frown.

"Take off your shirt," she instructed.

Numbly, Baltar obeyed. Tears fell from his lashes as he sat, letting her look over his naked torso.

Imota leaned forward, her cool fingers touching his scarred skin and rolling away a bandage as she examined his latest wound. "No infection," she said. "This is all?"

"Everything else has healed," Venja said, watching intently from a few paces away.

The woman grunted. "Put your shirt back on." After Baltar did, she took his chin to turn his face towards her. "Open your mouth."

That triggered further tears from Baltar but he did so, Imota's face blurring in his vision. He waited for some kind of intrusion, but none came.

"Dry mouth. Bad breath." Imota tapped the bottom of his chin. He slowly eased his mouth shut. "When was the last time you drank anything?"

The prince couldn't think of the answer. He shook his head.

"No? 'No' what, you won't say?"

He looked at her through his tears, opening his mouth to try to speak. A soft, wordless noise was all he could muster.

"Is something wrong with your voice?" Imota asked with a note of exasperation.

Baltar shrugged a single shoulder with a single nod.

"Sometimes he struggles to speak," Venja added. "Usually when he's in a lot of pain."

Imota's lips pursed briefly. "When was the last time he ate?"

"Why would I know? He takes care of that."

The woman turned an annoyed, raised brow look on the prince. "Have you eaten today?"

Baltar shook his head.

Imota stood up, turning to Venja. "Congratulations. You fucked him up." She walked out.

Venja started, following after her. Their voices reached Baltar from the hallway as they moved towards the front door.

"But you can fix him, can't you?"

"Most people kill themselves before they get like that," Imota said matter-of-factly.

Baltar laid back down.

"What are you saying?" Venja asked.

"You can't keep slicing somebody open and expect a fucking bandage to fix it every time."

"Thanks for being completely useless."

"Sure. That'll be a crown."

"You didn't even..."

The sound of their bickering faded out as Baltar stared at the wall across the room. Broken. A child's plaything, worn to tatters by rough handling.

Yes, that sounded right.

Baltar started from a doze when Venja dragged a second chair into the room, setting it next to the head of Baltar's bed like a nightstand. On it, he placed a cup and a plate of simple fare, then pulled up the chair at the desk to sit in.

"Sit up and drink," Venja ordered, holding the cup out.

Still moving slowly, Baltar wearily complied. The water was bitter. Maybe Venja had slipped something in it, but it didn't matter.

"Eat," Venja said, holding a slice of utuhev at mouth level. When the prince didn't lean to get it, Venja leaned in to push it into his mouth, and Baltar didn't resist.

"Is this what we're gonna do now?" the man asked while Baltar ate the morsel. "Crying and spoon feeding?"

Baltar had no response, save for a few new tears staining his skin. Venja gave a short sigh, tearing off a piece of stale bread and feeding it to Baltar. Piece by piece, the prince's belly filled.

Venja tucked Baltar into bed when the food was gone, stroking his head a few times before leaving.

---

Days or weeks passed in a gray blur. Baltar no longer left bed unless he had to, typically by nature's call. Venja became a constant, a caretaker to the silent, morose prince. The taste of a certain sedative was now familiar for Baltar, as at first Venja dosed his food with it, but then began giving the tincture directly to Baltar, who took it without complaint, when he had to leave outside of mealtimes. He was never gone for longer than a few hours, now.

Venja didn't hurt him anymore, either, and only occasionally coaxed pleasure from his body. The prince might have once considered the arrangement nice.

Despite Venja's vigilance, Baltar wasted away.

---

Eventually, things changed. Baltar was too attuned to Venja to miss even the most infinitesimal difference in the man's demeanor. He wouldn't have asked what had changed even if he could, but his instincts, deeply buried as they were, still twinged with anxiety.

Venja brought him dinner and he tried eating. After managing to swallow the first spoonful of sedative-laced stew, he tried for a second and his gut heaved violently, skin flushing with an uncomfortable, clammy heat.

"Fuck, you could have just said you don't like rabbit stew," Venja said, then chortled to himself as he took the bowl away. He returned a few minutes later with sliced fruit. This, too, tasted of the sedative.

Baltar's stomach didn't take kindly to that either. Venja got a piece into his mouth, but when came to swallow, Baltar was unable. He tried for a good minute, feeling Venja's silent frustration building. He finally had to spit it out amidst tears.

For the first time in a while, he couldn't do what Venja wanted.

"Alright," Venja muttered, setting the food aside. His foot tapped a few times, an uncharacteristic fidget. "That's alright. It's not your fault if you can't eat."

Baltar found no relief in that. Venja rarely left at night, rarely had reason to drug him. What was going on?

Venja stepped out of the room and returned with some brown cloth in his hand. "Put this on."

Baltar slowly took the item, unfolding it. It was just... a bag.

Oh.

This was it, then.

He stared at it for a few moments, dully accepting its meaning. Venja had tired of him at last. Opening it, he gave Venja one last teary-eyed look before sliding it over his head.

"...Good," Venja said.

Baltar sat perfectly still as the man adjusted his restraints, clipping his wrists together while removing the heavy leash on his collar to replace it with a shorter chain.

A hand on his elbow guided him to his feet, then away. Evening air kissed his skin for the first time since that fateful night, sending a shiver through him, which took hold of him quickly. Venja huffed, pausing to drape a coat around Baltar's rail-thin frame.

It was such a curious kindness to give someone marching to their death.

Baltar heard the horses before Venja got him to the carriage. The man lifted Baltar up by the waist without so much as a grunt, setting his feet on wooden floor. Baltar shuffled in as Venja came up behind him, shutting the door.

Venja pulled Baltar down to sit next to him. Dizzy, weeping silently, and shaking, Baltar laid his head in Venja's lap.

The man sighed softly, and as the carriage began moving, he lifted the bag from Baltar's head. Baltar closed his eyes, feeling his tears wet the man's knees.

Grant me this one last thing.

And Venja did, softly carding his fingers through Baltar's hair.

Baltar remembered being a young boy, resting like this on Hakon or Rohisa's lap. He had loved them so much. If they still lived, he wanted them to continue doing so. He wanted them to remember how he had been, happy and bright. He hoped they would be well.

The ride was short. Perhaps that was for the best.

Venja replaced the bag over Baltar's head and led him out. Baltar let himself be led, mind distant and body numb. He barely noticed climbing stairs, or turning down hallways, or the terrain changing from tile to plush carpet.

When it came time for him to kneel, a small corner of his mind appreciated that his knees were cushioned for this. How dreadful it would be to die on a patch of dirt somewhere.

The bag was pulled off his head. A woman sat before them, eyeing Baltar with some mixture of disgust and hate.

"Venja, you always bring me such lovely things," said Ochvlita, Queen of Beor.

taglist: @nabanna @emcscared-whumps @nicolepascaline @i-can-even-burn-salad @melennui​ @thecyrulik

[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)

[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

[ceruleanmindpalace]

Inktober No. 9 - Omniscient + Bruises

This is unfinished. It is not at all what I had in mind for how it should look like in the end.

I messed up and accidentally painted it all on the sketch layer (again - *eye roll*). Fixing it would mean start from the beginning. I am a mess because my depression is pretty bad at the moment and I guess this work reflects that. I couldn't get myself to giving it another try.

The plan was a watercolour piece - in colour, with a proper background, but...

Prompts from @bluebellofbakerstreet's amazing prompt list and the @whumptober prompt list for Inktober 2024.

I am flattered if you reblog, but do NOT post my art on other sites/social media or use in any other way without my written permission.

[defire]

Captured royal PTSD

(laying low)

Never allowing themselves to look regal or confident ever again, so as not to attract abuse. Walking around bowing their head, biting their lips.

Trying to be really nice all the time, making allies so they'll be hidden away from anyone looking for them. Sometimes they wonder if they even care about their friends, or if it's just selfish.

When they turn away, the smile drops into stress lines and paranoia

Rubbing at scars hidden under their clothing (scars can be itchy...) and then looking around to see if anyone saw them

Always wearing a hooded cloak or (modern) hoodie pulled down over their face

The whole mystery-person thing... The aragorn-in-the-corner thing... Everyone wants to know about them and they'll never ever tell

Insisting that they're nobody, not important, only adding to the intrigue bc they have NO IDEA how to act "normal"

[aceofwhump]

The Umbrella Academy 4x05

[simply-whump]

Love Next Door : Episode 3

[jasmines-library]

I think I visit your blog an unhealthy number of times bc it's just my go-to for some good old fashioned hurt/comfort and it's just. You are such an incredible writer 😭❤️!! could I request a batfam fic where the reader undergoes a depressive (or numb) episode/the vibe that comes with a character just falling down wordlessly on the couch and the other character saying "bad day?" and the character nodding and giving them a blanket // if this is too specific absolutely no worries, either :D! any and all characters are alright, thank you so much!! please take your time with the requests and I hope you have an awesome rest of ur day :]!!

Aww anon! That’s so cute! I hope you enjoy and I hope you’re doing okay! :)

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

WHUMPTOBER DAY TWENTY :Prompt: necrosis/wound cleaning.

Warnings: numbness and a depressive episode described.

Word count: 1k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You had fallen into that pattern again. That dreadful, hateful pattern. It comes and goes in waves; Numbness followed by dark sadness that weighed heavily in the middle of your chest. Suffocating. 

You couldn’t help it. You never could. The feeling would just wash over you all of a sudden. Hit you like a ton of bricks. And usually you felt like there was nothing you could do about it except let it play out its course. So, you spent much of your time alone. It didn’t help much. Being alone made you feel worse in many ways. You yearned for normality; Dick’s laughter and Damian’s small unamused grunts as he pretended to be interested in what was going on. You would have given anything to not feel this way again. But right now it was all too much. Even just moving felt like too much of an effort. So you remained numb up in your room, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

You were sure you had traced the patterns in the ceiling at least a hundred times in the last day or so. It was that or overthinking. You couldn’t stop the influx of thoughts. They would come all at once all angry and disappointed. And you would ponder on them for far too long before they vanished just as quickly as they arrived, leaving you once again alone.

Your family had noticed your withdrawal. They had seen you in this state before and it broke their hearts to see  you in it again, but they weren’t sure what to do. The Waynes aren’t exactly known for their emotional intelligence. They thought the next best thing to do was to give you some space, but to extend a hand if you asked for it. You never asked for it. You didn’t know how. And you didn’t want to be a burden to the rest of your family. So you remained silent.

One night, you had decided to venture out of your room. It was a quiet evening. Late autumn so the sun was already beginning to set despite the early hours of the afternoon. It had taken you a long while to decide that you wanted to move, but nevertheless you stood and moved towards your favourite spot; a place that you often found solace in. The armchair was large and plush and positioned by the window so that it caught the last slivers of golden light as they streamed through the window. You curled up on the plush leather, watching the trees shed their leaves and the sky turn a deep blue. It was a few hours later, when the stars had appeared in the sky, when the door cracked open.  The figure was silent, save for their bare feet padding against the wooden flooring. 

It was Jason who approached.  He had a blanket slung over his shoulder and two steaming mugs of hot cocoa in his hands. He paused, studding you for a moment as you stared numbly out the window. He had seen you here before. It brought him a sense of deja vu that he’d rather not feel again. Taking a step forward, he let out a gentle sigh. 

“Hey kiddo….” he started. You glanced up at him. Jason smiled sadly. It was a start. “Brought you your favourite. Thought you might be thirsty.”

He extended a mug towards you. It was topped with cream and marshmallows which were slightly melted. It was just how you liked it. Goddamnit. You took the mug from him and took a sip. The sweet liquid melted on your tongue. 

“Thank you…” You said quietly before the two of you fell into silence. Jason watched you as you went back to staring out of the window, trying to gather the words to say. It was clear that he was worried; they all were. He just didn’t know how to make you feel better. If he could even make you feel better at all. He hated seeing you like this; so lost in the darkness of your own mind. He hated it not only because you were hurting, but also because he knew that feeling all too well. He knew how much it hurt. How difficult it was to feel anything but numb and self hatred. 

“Bad week again?” he asked gently.

You just nodded. Jason always seemed to understand without pressing you. 

“Here…” he handed you the blanket, draping it over your shoulders.You hugged it tight around you, immediately overcome with the sense of familiar comfort. 

Jason didn’t say much more after that and you even less. But he took a seat on the armchair across from you before curling up with his book. It was a simple but effective gesture to show that he was there for you without overwhelming you. You glanced at him, taking a sip of your drink. And for the first time in what felt like forever you began to feel again.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY NINETEEN⛧ DAY TWENTY ONE->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

@hearts4robs @kingshitonly @alicedawitchbish @hell-o-kittys @azure-drag0ness @harleycao @thewhispersofthewaves @batfamsstuff @xxrougefangxx @rosecentury @noisymutantherelol @killxz @rhiodes @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @canthavetoomuchchaos

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

The Grand A-Z List of Whump 1/3

This list contains ~290 items listed A to H

As always, I heavily encourage people to research topics thoroughly when writing as it is important to avoid stereotypes/misinformation. This list's intention is not to glorify/romanticise sensitive topics in any way.

This part one-of-three comprehensive lists of injuries, Illnesses and tropes - including those from the Whumptober 2023 trope vote!

All submissions are listed in italics, and those who wanted to be tagged will be included at the end. If you have any more submissions: please send them via DM/my ask box.

[I-Q] [R-Z] [NSFW List]

List below the cut:

#

"I don't need your help."

"I'm doing this to make you better"

"I'm fine, take care of them!"

“I’m Fine”

"Kill me instead"

"Let me in."

"Look at me."

"Should I know you?"

"Take me instead."

(No) Anaesthetic

A

A Good Ol' Sickfic

Abandoned

Abdominal Pain

Aching Wounds

Acne

Adrenaline Crash

Adrift (in space/at sea)

Agoraphobia

Airsickness

Alien abduction

Allergies

Alopecia

Ambulance Ride

Ambush

Amnesia/memory loss

Amputations

Anaemia

Anesthesia

Angina (Heart condition that causes pain)

Animal Attack/Bite

Ankle Sprain

Anthrax

Anxiety/Anxiety attack(s)

Aphasia

Appendicitis

Arrested

Arthritis

Asking for help

Asphyxiation

Assumed Dead

Asthma/Asthma Attack

Auctions

Autoimmune disease

Avalanches

B

Backache

Bad Caretakers

Bandaged Head

Banished

Barbed Wire

Bear trap

Beaten up by ex-friends

Beaten with blunt object (i.e, bat or pipe)

Beatings

Bedrest

Bedside Vigil/Hospital Vigil

Begging

Betrayed by close friend/team/family

Bites (Animal, Bug, Human….)

Biting

Black Eye

Blackmail

Bleeding Out

Bleeding Through

Bandages

Blindfolded

Blindness (this could be temporary or permanent)

Blisters

Blood Loss

Blood Poisoning

Bloodied Knuckles

Bloodstains/blood trail

Bloody handprints

Bloody nose

Blunt force trauma

Blurred vision

Body modification

Body Sharing

Body Switching

Bounty on their head

Brain Damage

Brainwashing

Breakdowns

Breathless

Bridal Carry

Broken Bones (Ribs, Arm, Leg)

Broken Nose

Broken Promises

Bronchitis

Bruises

Building Collapse

Bullet Removal

Bumpy roads jarring injuries

Buried Alive

Burning Building

Burns/Scalding

Busted kneecap

C

Cancer

Caning

Capgras syndrome/delusion (belief that someone close to/important to the person has been replaced by an imposter)

Capsulitis

Captivity

Captured

Car chases (and maybe a car crash)

Carbon monoxide poisoning

Cardiac Arrest

Caretaker has to “play nice” with whumper.

Caretaker has to hurt whumpee while undercover.

Caretaker sacrificing something dear to them to get something the whumpee needs.

Caretaker turned Whumpee

Caretaker-whumper who's a parental whumper. But their "love" is not real love. Or even right treatment.

Carsickness

Cataracts

Catatonia

Caught in a fire

Caught in an explosion

Cauterization

Cave In

Cavity

Celebrity whump (exploitation in the music/movie industries…)

Chaffing from ropes/handcuffs/shackles

Chained/Shackled

Checking for injuries

CHF - congestive heart failure

Chicken Pox

Chills

Chloroform

Choking

Chronic pain

Claustrophobia

Cleaning wounds alone

Cold/Flu,

Collapsed Lung

Collapsing (into someone’s arms is usually nice, bonus points for cradling their head as they lower the whumpee to the floor)

Collapsing after they win

Collapsing/Fainting/Passing Out

Collars

Coma

Comfort after a nightmare

Common cold

Completely betrayed by their own team

Complications

Concussion

Confusion

Constipation

Constricted Airways

COPD - Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease makes breathing increasingly more difficult.

Corporal Punishment

Corset too tight and won’t unbutton

Coughing

Coughing Up Blood

CPR

Cramps

Crikes (intubation through neck)

Crush injury

Crying

Cuddle pile

Curses

Cuts/Grazes

Cutting off hair (more of an emotional hurt)

Cyanide poisoning

D

Damaged Larynx/Vocal Cords

De-aging

Deathbed Confessions (don’t have to actually die and stay dead, just the threat of dying)

Defeat

Defenestration (throwing out a window)

Dehydration

Deja Vu

Delirium (bonus points for this being drug/ fever induced)

Deluded whumper/thinking they’re helping the whumpee

Dengue Fever

Denial

Depression

Dermatitis

Diabetes (type 1 and 2)

Diarrhea

Diseases ('mystery' diseases are the best kind)

Dislocations

Disorientation

Disowned by Family

Displaced hip

Dissociation

Distress call

Dizziness

Dragged Away

Dream sequence

Driving to the hospital with a whumpee slumped barely-conscious in the seat of the car

Drowning

Drunkenness

E

Ear Infection

Edema (swelling from build up of fluid)

EKG

Electrical Burns

Electrical shock

Electrocution

Emergency field surgery

Emergency Surgery

Emotional angst

Emotional manipulation

Endometriosis

Enemy to Caretaker

Energy Drain

Environmental whump

ER

Execution

Exes reunited with one wanting a relationship and the other just wanting friendship.

Exhaustion

Experimentation

Exposure

Extreme Weather

Eye injury

F

Facing Phobias

Failed Escape

Failure to thrive

Fainting

Fainting (but also fainting aftermath) / Fainting due to lack of sleep, food, or overworking fainting from exhaustion

Falling

Falling for Caretaker/Whumpee/Whumper

Falling Through Ice

Fatigue/Exhaustion

Fever

Fibromyalgia (Chronic Pain)

Field medicine

Fighting (while injured)

Financial difficulty faced + how whumper might take advantage of that + how caretaker handles everything (well/badly)

Finding your loved one dead without explanation but thinking they’re still alive.

Fireman's carry

Flare ups

Flashbacks

Flinching away

Flu

Food Poisoning

Forced to... (Break out, Choose, Hurt, Kneel, Scream, Watch)

Forehead kisses

Forgotten by team

Foul-tasting medicine

Found family

Found unconscious

Fracture (Arm, Hyoid bone etc)

Freezing / cold whump

Friendly Fire

Frostbite

G

Gagged/Muzzled

Gangrene infection

Gaslighting

Gas (noxious, poisonous etc)

Gastritis

Glass (shards, debris etc)

Grief

Gunshot Wound

H

Hair Pulling/Cutting/Matting/Stroking

Hallucinations

Hanahaki

Handcuffs

Handgag

Hard ground

Haunted

Hay Fever

Head injuries/concussion

Head trauma

Headache/Migraine

Heart Palpitations

Heartburn

Heat Exhaustion

Heatstroke

Heavy metal poisoning

Held at gunpoint/knifepoint/weapon point

Hematohidrosis (Sweating blood)

Hemophilia/Hematophilia (Blood unable to clot)

Haemothorax

Hernia

Hidden Illness/Injury/Scar/Medical Issues

Hiding

High Blood Pressure

High Fever (like dangerously high)

High Pain Tolerence

Hit by a car

Home Sickness

Hospital Codes

Hostage Situation

House burnt down

Huddling for Warmth

Human Shield

Human Weapon

Hunger

Hungover

Hunted for Sport

Hurt no comfort

Hyperalgesia,

Hypermobility

Hyperventilating

Hypo/Hyperthermia

Hypo/Hyperthyroidism

Hypoglycemia

Hypotension/ Hypertension

Hypoxia

TAG LIST: Thank you very much to the following people for submitting ideas! (I apologise if some tags did not work, I'm not sure why tumblrs not letting me tag you!)

@I-eat-worlds | @greygullhaven | @letsgowhump | @cyberwhumper @firapolemos05 | @originaldeerhottub | @whumpilicious | @drawing-dinos82 | @carenrose | @stellarinuscronicles | @gottheseasonalblues | @marvelflame2010 | @sowhumpful | @avamcu | @courtneygacha | @lordofthewhumps | @autismmydearwatson | @kuddelmuddell | @the-most-handsome-ginger | @whirls-and-swirls | @painsandconfusion

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The hard days

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: reader has been struggling a bit and her girls step in.

TW: depression? Sadness

A/n I want people to know I’m still now writing much marvel but this was a special request so … yeah.

To say you felt bad would be an understatement. It had been a hard day. No. It had been a hard week filled with hard days and it just seemed to be never ending. Today you decided to tell whoever was pulling the strings to kindly fuck off. Whatever cruel game they were playing could play without you for just one day. Sure, it wouldn’t fix anything, but the bed was so comfy. The team could survive one day without you. They were big kids, and they could suck it up for once. Today was a pj and bed day. The only reason you were leaving this bed was for the bathroom and snacks.

Nat had been up since dawn as she was every day. You can take the girl out of training, but you can’t take the training out of the girl. Nat was in the gym, the boys were all away on a trip to some space conference or something Tony wasn’t in a sharing mood, so they were either in space or somewhere else, for once nat didn’t care.

After a solid three hours in the gym, she threw in the towel. Using the fluffy sports towels Tony kept in the gym nat took a shower and changed into comfier clothes. She has been up before the sun and already gone for a run before she came to the gym.

After what could only be described as the best shower of her life, nat walked to the lift and caught it to the communal floors for a hearty breakfast. Quietly she padded down the hall and into the kitchen. For once it was only Wanda at the table and they exchanged a puzzled look.

“I thought y/n was with you?” Wanda said covering her mouth which was full of jam and toast.

“I assumed she was here?” Nat responded coming to lean on the bench.

“Nope, haven’t seen her at all today.”

“Neither.” Nat frowned, you had seemed rather blue and tired when you went to bed last night but nat was willing to dismiss it as stress combined with fatigue.

“We should probably go check on her. Right?” Wanda asked putting down her half-eaten toast.

“Yeah… yeah, probably.” Nat said trying to stop herself from biting her lip. She usually did her best to suppress her anxious habits to make it easier to slide into character for missions. Wanda slides a comforting arm up and down nat arm.

“She’ll be alright. She probably just overslept.” Wanda said but they both knew you never overslept.

The two women took the lift to the floor with everyone’s rooms. Walking down to the hall at the end nat forwent knocking as her nerves got the better of her while her mind ran circles around her heart.

Opening the door, she frowned at the fact the curtains were still drawn. She looked to the bed to see a y/n sized lump cover head to toe by the blankets. Wanda stood in the doorway ready to provide backup of nat needed it.

“Y/n.” Nat said poking the lump.

“No.” Came a mumbled response.

“No?” Nat asked.

“No.” you said again.

“Y/n what’s wrong you never sleep in?” Nat asked shuffling up the bed to wrap her arms around you as best she could in this position. “Baby we just want to help.” She said softly.

“It’s … it’s all too hard.” You sobbed and Nat gently peeled back the blanket to see your tear-stained face.

“Oh honey.” She cooed and slide under the blankets to wrap you in her arms. She ran her hands through your hair while she tucked your face under her chin. “It’s ok my sweet girl. It’s ok. It will all be ok. I won’t let anything happen to you. We love you so much baby girl.” She cooed holding you tight into her chest. Over your head she shot Wanda a look and Wanda nodded and disappeared.

You must have cried for hours. To Nat’s credit she never left your side. She held you the whole time, uncaring of her tear-soaked clothes, you were more important.

“Baby? Do you want me to braid your hair?” Nat whispered and felt you nod into her collarbone. Gently she sat you up and grabbed the hairbrush from the bedside. After brushing out the knots which was a slow process due to her wanting to tease them all so you weren’t in pain, she started braiding. She began by sectioning your hair, running her nails over your scalp to seperate it into chunks. After it was properly parted she began twisting the strands, grabbing more hair as she went to create a beautiful design that ran across your head and fell into two of the cleanest braids you had ever seen. When nat was done she pressed a kiss to each of you cheeks and rubbed her thumb over your cheekbone.

“Oh my love, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t know how I’d survive without your little notes it find around the tower. Or the endless ideas you have on missions. Your so special my dove, never forget that. The world would be lonely without you. Everyone is unique to loose you would be to loose something so unique it will never return. We need you. Not just as an agent, but as a person. You are loved my baby. You are so so loved.” Nat said and pressed a kiss to your nose. You let out a small sniffle and nuzzled into her neck.

Wanda came back to the door and sent nat a nod over your head.

“Hey y/n/n?” Nat asked softly.

“What?” You asked in a small shy voice.

“I think you might want to come to the cinema.” Nat said and helped you up. You shot her a confused look and nodded to tired to disagree.

“Ok.” You mumbled.

“Thank you baby.” Nat said and before you could react she scooped you into her arms. Your fronts pressed together as she held onto you like a toddler. You buried your face in the side of her neck and let the up and down motion of her steps lull you into a soft hazy daze.

After a minute you felt nat sit down on something soft. She held you close to her and whispered in your ear. “Open your eyes sweetie.” She said and you looked up. And you have never loved Wanda more.

Starting with the table, Wanda has dragged a table into the room which was covered in snack and drinks as well as just about every takeaway box from New York. She had made a pile of blankets which was made into a makeshift bed the size of almost the whole cinema floor. Pepper was sat cross legged tapping on a tablet and looked up to meet your gaze with a tender smile. Carol was tossing jellybeans into her mouth and sent you a wink when she caught your eyes. Mj was doodling in her sketchbook down the back and waved when she saw you. Yelena and Kate were throwing food at each other which was being eaten by Kate’s dog lucky.

You looked over to Wanda with tears in your eyes. “You did this for me?” You asked gazing around and noticing your favourite movie cued up to play.

“Of course y/n. The boys don’t get to have all the fun.” Wanda grinned and you sniffled.

“Thanks guys. It really means a lot.”

“Anytime boo.” Carol shot you finger guns and a grin.

“Not a problem at all y/n. I love free snacks.” MJ grinned.

“I needed a break.” Pepper sighed.

“Clint’s been driving me crazy, this is the perfect escape.” Kate said and elbowed Yelena from where she was trying to steal her pizza back off lucky.

“Oh… yeah… free pizza and a movie, plus a chance to annoy my favourite sister? Wouldn’t miss it for the world bubs.” Yelena grinned and lunged at the dog who darted out of the way and she landed on Kate who pushed her off.

“It wasn’t that hard. Plus you deserved it.” Wanda said and Nat just placed a tender kiss to your lips leaving the taste of her chapstick she stole from you a month back.

“Ready?” Wanda asked and you nodded as she pressed play.

It was safe to say you had never felt more loved and safe. Life was full of hard times, but without them the good wouldn’t feel so great. You were needed. You were loved.

[gottawhump]

Shelter

115

CW/TW: food mention, depression, refusing to eat, BBU/WRU. Sometime before this.

“Come on, you have to eat.”

No, he doesn’t.

She puts the bowl of warm nutri-loaf broth under his nose, and he turns his head away.

“Poor thing, you miss your family, I know. We’ll find you a new one, and they’ll love you so much. But you have to try. You have to eat.”

She strokes his hair, and he leans into the touch, unable to stop himself. Then she reaches into a pouch on her waist and takes out something small and foil wrapped. When she unwraps it, he smells the chocolate. His stomach growls.

But he turns his head away when she offers it to him.

“You’re wasting your time, Maia,” another shelter worker says. “That one wants to go to end-of-life.”

“No. He’s just depressed. You would be too if your family abandoned you in a strange place.” She puts the chocolate down by the bowl, and strokes his hair again before standing up. “He’s a good boy, just sad.”

Old Friends taglist: @painful-pooch @justplainwhump @redwingedwhump @maracujatangerine @honeycollectswhump @tragedyinblue @taterswhump

[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

[dainluvr]

Nobody talks about depressed Whumpees enough so here’s some prompts:

CWs: Mentions of depression (obviously), suicidal thoughts, mentions of self harm

———————

- Whumpees who sit in bed for days at a time, wondering how their life would’ve been had they never been kidnapped.

- Whumpee telling Caretaker how badly they want to die to simply be free of the pain and the bad thoughts plaguing their mind while Caretaker silently tries to reassure them/ talk them down.

- Also Caretaker constantly keeping an eye on Whumpee just in case. Just in between fine line of being there for them in case they do something stupid but also giving them the space they need.

- Whumpee staying up at night with Caretaker and just sobbing to them for hours at a time, telling them everything they went through while Caretaker, who’s already tired enough, has to calm them down on top of that and reassure them for the 78th time that they’re not worthless.

- Whumpees who still hurt themselves the same way Whumper used to hurt them because they find comfort/ familiarity in it.

- Or alternatively, Whumpees who hurt themselves when they do something wrong because they’ve not used to going unpunished.

- Whumpee noticing how behind they are on everything (wether it’s schoolwork or even dynamics within their friend group) simply because of how long they’ve been shut off from the outside world/ everyone around them.

- Whumpee wondering if there’s even a future for them anymore since they missed out on so much of their life.

- Caretaker who helps depressed Whumpee with everything, bringing them food to their bed to make sure they don’t starve to death in it.

- Whumpee noticing how different everyone is (as opposed to before everything happened) and how they wish they could go back.

- Whumpee pushing everyone away because they’re scared to get close to anyone again.

- Whumpee taking out their anger on Caretaker, the person closest to them, being burnt out from having to act normal around everyone else.

———————

Lol idk I’ll add more if I think of any

[kybercrystals94]

Fine

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 18 - Prompt: Loss of Identity

Rated: T | Words: 511

Fives and Echo. 

Echo and Fives. 

Now, it’s just Echo. 

Echo. 

Echo.

Echo. 

“Echo,” Rex says, sitting down next to him, “How are you doing?” 

Awful, terrible. Everything hurts, soul deep to the surface of my skin. Even my missing limbs ache, and they aren’t even here anymore. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense…

“Better,” Echo says. He smiles, because if he doesn’t he’ll cry. He holds up his arms, the sleeves of the shirt he borrowed from the big clone – Wrecker? – far too long and drooping at the ends. “Although, I feel like a cadet in these.” 

Rex chuckles. “We’ll be able to find you something with a better fit once we’re back to the base.” 

It’s supposed to make him feel better. He knows it is. He knows. He knows. But the thought of trying to find something that will fit him, the way he is now instead of the way he was…there’s no comfort in it. He’s lost the muscle mass he’d gained, and gained cold metal where he lost his limbs. 

No, he has to change the subject before he spirals to depths he won’t be able to climb out of. 

Echo glances at Wrecker, snoring loudly in a crash seat across from the pull down cot he’s sitting on (they had tried to get him to lay down, to rest, but closing his eyes is the last thing he wants to do, the glare of ones and zeroes still seared to the inside of his eyelids). “Tell me about them. What’s their story?” 

Rex follows his eyeline. “Clone Force 99? I don’t know much about them myself. Cody called them in. As capable as they are insane, that lot.” 

“I assure you, insanity has nothing to do with it,” Tech says, coming into the hold, eyes trained on his data pad. “To properly answer your question, Echo, we are an elite squad of clones developed to have desirable mutations. Therefore, we are uniquely qualified for high risk missions given our advanced skill set.”

Rex sighs. “That’s exactly what I was going to say,” he mutters to Echo.

“Liar,” Echo murmurs back. 

The attempt to lighten the mood almost works, and Echo pretends it does. Because, if he pretends long enough, that he’s fine, that everything will be fine, he’ll start to believe it. Because this is his new reality. A world separated by then and now, connected by a bridge long since burned that he can’t cross back over. And he will be fine. He isn’t dead. 

Fives is dead. 

Rex didn’t have to tell him, Echo didn’t have to ask. 

But Echo will be fine. He’s already decided. 

What’s two missing legs and an arm? What’s internal organs replaced and spliced with cybernetics? What’s a brother lost forever, his last word to you, your own name? 

Rex bumps him with his shoulder, and Echo bumps him back. 

“I’ll be fine,” he says, voice so soft it is almost just an exhale, answering the unspoken, reiterated question. 

But what if I’m not?

END

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