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Love when a villain is genuinely trying to help the whumpee. Maybe they’re rethinking being a villain, or they’re not that cruel, or maybe they just wanna give their prey a fighting chance. It doesn’t matter.

The whumpee won’t listen to them. Even in their injured state, they grip furniture to keep themselves upright and away from the villain. They spit every insult like venom. They hate the villain.

But once they’ve passed out, the villain still tends to their wounds. Still wraps them in bandages and blankets. Still tries to help.

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Venting below

God, life has been kicking my ass so hard and its only gunna get worse before it gets better. I cant even draw anymore i gotta conserve all my energy. Reading whump fics have helped alot while i lay on the floor for hours day after day. Kinda hope i get hospitalized so i can rest without the crushing guilt. One day ill get back to the comic. Ive got it all planned and written out just cant put pen to paper atm. All assistance i can get say i have to be at poverty level before i can get help, which i am, but living paycheck to paycheck isnt poverty i guess. Thinking about selling the house and moving into something cheaper near family who can help but its pulling teeth to get anywhere. Havent showered in weeks, cant do chores, crying everyday, but im not unwell enough to get any help at every turn. Just wanna lie down and sleep. Sorry i just have no where else to vent.

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June of doom 8 - "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Concussion | Mugged | Drugged

"Hero?" Villain nearly cackled at the sight. Hero was a lot of things. Hero was a beacon of light, a bringer of hope, a shining star in the middle of the darkest sky. Brave, kind, strong. Incredibly stubborn. Annoyingly stubborn. Frustratingly stubborn.

What Hero wasn't, well... Hero certainly wasn't the moaning, pathetic mess that was laying in front of Villain's estate. It couldn't be. But then again, that physique was certainly their nemesis'. The stance however...

...left a lot to be desired.

Hero's body was hunched forward, their legs shaking as they wobbled and fought to stay straight. "V'll-.. V'llain..." they slurred. Oh my God, were they drunk? The villain's lips curled upwards. This was a rare sight.

Villain crossed their arms over their chest. "Taking a stroll, my darling?" Their eyes followed Hero's shaking hand, which was aiming (and failing) to reach out to them. Oh, they were enjoying every second of this. "It's dangerous to just roam about in this area, though." They eyed the trembling hero from head to toe. "Especially in your state."

Hero slurred something that sounded like either "shut up" or "fuck off". Not that it mattered, since it came out as garbled nonsense anyway. The villain laughed.

"You don't look so well, darling." They tilted their head to the side, leaning against the wall, as if they hadn't a care in the world.

"Villain, I..." Hero froze suddenly.

"Hm?"

"I..."

"...Hero?" Villain tensed a little. Hero let out a loud whimper before they fell on their knees with a loud thud. They were still shaking, but they seemed... unresponsive to the villain, who now sat on one knee in front of them. Villain slowly put a finger on Hero's chin and tilted their head to see their face better.

They were not drunk, they realized. They were drugged. Their eyes were too unfocused and unaffected by the blinding light coming from Villain's house.

"Hero." Villain demanded. "Hero, look at me."

The hero didn't even blink.

"Hero, darling." That seemed to spark something. Hero groaned and Villain cupped their whole face with their hand. They raised the other, showing off their middle finger. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Hero only blinked, a bit of drool pooling on the bottom of their half-opened mouth. Villain sighed. The other was worse than they thought. It was a miracle they were able to walk to Villain's house. Wordlessly, they hoisted the hero up in their arms and brought them inside.

"...whyre..." Hero grumbled in their arms.

"Hm?"

"Mphr..."

"Please use your words, darling. I can't understand a thing you say." The villain said as they layed the drugged hero on their bed.

"..why... why armh.. why are you..." Hero trailed off and let out a deep sigh, as if even talking took most of their energy. Maybe it did.

"You're the one that came to me." The villain whispered in their ear as they shifted Hero into a more comfortable position. "Why did you come to me?"

Nothing.

"...Hero?"

Still nothing. The villain groaned, a bit annoyed. "You're no fun like this, you know." They patted the hero's cheek gently. "You better pull yourself together, darling, or I'll get bored."

"Huh?..." Oh, good, they were back again. "V..Villain?"

"Hello, darling." The villain kept their hand on Hero's face while the other scrolled on their phone. "I'm gonna call the doctor. And when this is over, I'm going to make you tell me exactly who did this to you." They stroked the their cheek. "Am I clear?"

Hero only whined and leaned their face on Villain's hand.

"Good." The villain smiled and pressed call.

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You know what, I saw that post about getting sedatives for your pets for 4th of July, and I just pictured a Whump scenario where Whumper uses that as a cover up just to get sedatives for Whumpee.

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gruff caretaker: don't wake me unless you're dying.

sunshine whumpee: *doesn't wake caretaker until they're dying*

gruff caretaker:

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Going insane about kicked dog with rabies type characters

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Intake hygiene

Cat man doesn't hate water, cat man hate cold decontamination wash

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Good (what time it is where u are)! Could I request a Hero x villian where hero is mermaid and hides it and one day villian tries to capture her not knowing she is a mermaid and it’s fluff and whump thank you. Feel free to add more to this

Oh, Anon, you are speaking my language- I love mermaids! Thank you for requesting this, I hope I can do it justice!

Hero ducked behind a shipping container and prayed Villain would just run past them.

“Hero~” Villain called in a sing-song voice, “where are you hiding, little hero?”

Hero put a hand over their mouth and tried to control their breathing.

“There you are, little hero.”

Hero yelped as a hand snaked around their waist and pulled them close. Hero felt a sharp pinch in their neck. Almost immediately, Hero began to feel light-headed. They shook their head rapidly in an attempt to fight the drug they had just been given.

“Shh, don’t fight it, love, just go to sleep. That’s it.”

Hero’s eyes rolled into the back of their head and slipped closed. The last thing they felt before unconsciousness gripped them was Villain scooping them up in a bridal carry.

…

Hero woke up slowly. They opened their eyes to see thick glass in front of them. On the other side of the glass was Villain smirking at them.

“You’re finally awake,” Villain said, “I thought you would sleep forever.”

“Whose fault is that?” Hero bit out.

Villain shrugged.

“I thought we might skip the small talk and get straight to business,” Villain said, “you’ll notice I’ve placed you in a large tank.”

“Yes, I did notice that.”

“Such an observant Hero,” Villain praised, “you’ll also notice that the tank is filled with air at the moment. This is how things are going to work-” Villain pulled out a small remote, “-you’re going to tell me what I want to know, and I won’t press the button. If you decide you don’t want to tell me what I want to know, the tank starts filling with water. Understand so far?”

Hero’s eyes widened. No no no no no. Water was the last thing Hero needed right now.

“Villain, wait-”

“Looks like you understand. Good. First question- where is your base?”

“Villain, please-”

“Wrong answer,” Villain sang.

“Villain, don’t!”

It was too late. Villain had already pressed the button. Slowly, water started filling in from the bottom of the tank. Hero quickly moved to the corner as water pooled up from the center.

“Oh, Hero, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little water,” Villain laughed, “I just need you to tell me where your base is, then this all stops.”

“Not in a million years,” Hero retorted.

“Suit yourself.”

Hero’s eyes grew wide as saucers as the water lapped at their feet. There was no preventing what was about to happen. Hero watched as the water soaked through their shoes and felt the transformation begin. Hero winced as blue scales climbed up the sides of their neck. Their legs fused together, causing them to fall to the floor. Hero looked at anywhere but Villain as the bottom half of their suit ripped open to reveal a shimmering, blue tail. Hero cried out as their ears became webbed and their teeth grew sharp. Hero looked at Villain, who was gaping in shock. Hero’s eyebrows knitted together, and they bared their sharp teeth.

“There!” Hero snapped, “are you happy now? You’ve completely ruined my suit and it’s gonna take forever to sew it back up! Not to mention it’s gonna take me hours to dry off!”

“What. The. Heck.” Villain said, staring.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Hero continued angrily, “you wanted to drown me, didn’t you? Well guess what, pal? You can’t! The best you can do is highly inconvenience me, which you most certainly have!”

Villain stared for a few more moments before collecting themselves and pressing a button on the remote. The water in the tank immediately receded. Villain pressed another button on the remote and the front wall of the tank swung open like a door. Hero stayed in their spot in the corner, not willing to drag themselves across the floor.

“I- uh,” Villain spluttered.

“Go on, spit it out!” Hero growled.

“I was never going to drown you,” Villain started sheepishly, “I just wanted to scare you enough into giving me the information. The water was only going to go up to your knees.”

“Thanks to you, I don’t have knees right now!” Hero spat.

“How long has,” Villain gestured to Hero’s tail, “this been a thing?”

“Long enough to be a hassle!” Hero replied, “Why do you think I was so scared at the docks? We were right on the water! All it would take is one puddle soaking through and then it’s H2O: Just Add Water!”

“What do you need me to do?” Villain asked.

“Towels.” Hero answered, “lots of them. I need to get dry.”

Villain approached Hero cautiously. They slid one arm under Hero’s tail and another behind their back. They scooped Hero up in a bridal carry, eliciting a cry of protest from Hero.

“What are you doing!?” Hero yelled.

“I’m sorry, all the towels are upstairs.”

“Ugh,”

Villain carried Hero upstairs and set them down in a bathtub. They went to grab several towels from the linen closet and passed them to Hero. Hero took them and started rubbing at their fins vigorously. Villain watched as Hero’s tail gradually severed and their scales disappeared under their skin. Their ears lost their webbing, and their fangs receded. Hero let out a sigh of relief.

“Well,” Hero said, “that was embarrassing.”

“So, uh, can you stand?” Villain asked.

“‘Can you stand?’” Hero mocked, “Of course I can stand!”

Hero shakily got up on their two legs. As soon as they were upright, they swiftly fell back down.

“Alright, so maybe the transformation takes a lot out of me, and maybe I can’t stand…” Hero admitted.

“Say no more,” Villain said.

Villain picked Hero up again and started walking down the hall.

“Where are we going?” Hero asked.

“Somewhere you can recuperate,” Villain responded.

Villain led Hero down a series of corridors until they reached a large bedroom. Villain carefully set Hero down on the bed and pulled the covers up to their chest. They then went to a nearby wardrobe and pulled out a pair of very comfy-looking sweatpants.

“Here.” Villain held out the sweatpants to Hero, “for the, um, suit damage.”

“Thanks,” Hero said, taking them, “I’m still mad at you though.”

“Noted,” Villain laughed nervously, “Is there… anything else you need?”

“Just some privacy so I can change,” Hero said.

“Got it.”

Villain turned to leave. They gently closed the door behind them. Here tore off what was left of the bottom half of their suit and pulled the sweatpants on. After that was done, Hero collapsed back on the bed. They fell asleep, not knowing that Villain was right outside their door, trying to figure out how to make things up to them.

part 2

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It's one of those day where being a pet whumpee doesn't sounds so bad after all.

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Captured Hero sitting in Supervillain's lap during evil villain meeting. It's a powerplay by Supervillain, they know. A way to display Hero after the villains have spent so long to trying to capture them.

But unbeknownst to Supervillain, Hero only submitted to this humiliation to gain Intel on what the villain council is planning. They expected Supervillain to talk more. Monologue and berate the villain council with evil plans that are next to impossible to achieve. But Supervillain is silent, listening intently to the other villains, interjecting now and then. Hero finds it hard to pay attention to the other villains when supervillain's deep, slow breathing warms their ear. Hero feels strange being captured after so many months of running. And now that they're here, in the belly of the beast, the tight ball of stress in their chest begins to unravel. Finally. Slowly, Hero's head begins to sag. Supervillain shifts them to a more comfortable position, arching their legs over the golden armrest. "Shh, shh, don't interrupt," they scold when Hero tries to protest. Hero frowns but keeps quiet. The villains are coming up to the most important part of the plan. They need to listen. Supervillain strokes Hero's huddled legs, holds the small of Hero's back in a gentle, possessive way. Hero thought Supervillain would be harsher, more smug, dismissive and...evil? They try not to succumb, but the gentle strokes and the rhythmic rising and falling of Supervillain's chest work their sorcery. Hero's eyes close. They don't hear the final steps of the plan, don't notice that the other villains are dismissed from the meeting... Don't know how many hours Supervillain lets them sleep in his arms, watching, holding, protecting...

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a whumpee who’s bone-chillingly tired after their experiences.

after it’s all over, the moment they lie down in their bed they’re out like a light, and it usually takes caretaker several attempts to even get a reaction out of them when they fall asleep.

occasionally they’ll wake up and get out of bed, but that’s only when they need to eat, bathe, or use the bathroom. And even then caretaker usually has to help feed them, bathe them, or make sure they don’t pass out on their way to the whenever they’re walking around.

other than that, whumpee is asleep, and stays asleep for a good while, maybe even over a week or two.

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Pspsps this is your sign to get real self-indulgent and design a fictional drug or illness that only does your favorite things, bc it's super fun and you don't have to do any research

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a particularly hot august afternoon

Port weeds the yard.

cw: heat exhaustion, pet whump, small warning for emeto

solitaire masterlist

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“Port.”

He plunged his spade into the earth, feeling for the roots.

“Port!”

Porter shut his eyes. Let the frustration pass. Deep breath. “What is it, Sonny?” he asked in his most even voice. This was probably the third time Sonny had called to him, standing cautiously in the doorway like there was an invisible wall preventing him from stepping into the sun. There might as well be.

“You should really get inside. The thermostat says 98.”

“I’ll come in once I finish.”

“At least grab a drink of water?”

“I’m alright,” Port dismissed. “I had some earlier.”

Port was no longer looking in Sonny’s direction. He only heard the door shut.

He tore the dandelion out of the ground and threw it with the others, mud still clinging to its spindly roots. Port tugged at the glove on his hand, adjusting it. Damn thing didn’t fit right, with his missing finger and all. The flopping rubber drove him crazy.

He wiped at his brow with the back of his forearm, hand occupied with the spade. Didn’t help much, considering every inch of skin was just as moist with sweat. Probably just rubbed grit around.

Mr. Oz had told him to get rid of the weeds, so that was what he was doing— and by God would he get all of them. He’d scorch them off the face of the Earth if he could, but in lieu of that, he’d dig each one up one-by-one like any normal person. 

It was really, really hot out. The Texas sun was unforgiving, prickling the back of his neck. A slick layer of sweat had long since formed under his collar. His shirt stuck to his back. His socks were soaked inside his shoes.

He stood to make for the next patch of dandelions when the world seemed to turn around him. He blinked for a moment, trying to be rid of the spinning. His head pulsed, and his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth. The idea of a cold drink sounded real appealing, now.

I’ll get this next patch, then I’ll take a break, he decided. He knelt by the flowers and carved around each one, ripping them up and throwing them onto the pile. Their yellow heads flopped haphazardly on the ground.

He heard Sonny call again just as he pulled up the last one.

“I know, I’m coming,” said Port.

He stood, clumsily, legs like jelly. He let the spade fall from his fingers, burrowing upright into the soft dirt. He would get it later. He took an unsteady step, feeling uncomfortably aware of how precarious it was to keep balance on two feet. His head swam at the motion. He could see Sonny’s relieved face through the black spots in his vision. He made to step over the pile of dandelions—

He needed to sit down.

His legs folded under him, settling into a kneeling position almost as familiar as breathing. He was on the ground, he was safe, he

He was

He was squinting into the sun when something eclipsed his vision. Sonny’s tan face, his furrowed brow. His mouth was moving, voice like it was underwater. “Christ, are you okay?” Sonny asked, frantic. “You need to get inside, now.”

“I am,” he mumbled.

“Get up!” The sun was back in Port’s eyes and Sonny was tugging at his arm. The idea of standing was too intimidating, and his stomach was flipping over itself, so Port decided to crawl on his hands and knees towards the front door, far beyond caring about the cleanliness of his ratty jeans.

“Whatever gets you inside, man,” Sonny said above him. He went ahead of Port, nudging the door open for him. Port crawled onto the doormat, onto the hardwood, and all the way to the kitchen.

When he got to the sink he reached up and grabbed the edge of the counter to hoist himself up. He realized how sore he was. Everything ached, beginning with his stiff fingers. His muscles pulled tight as he stood. Leaning heavily against the counter, he cranked the handle of the faucet and stuck his head under without a second thought. 

It sort of felt like he was being waterboarded, but the water was blissfully cool as he drank from it. He gulped as much as he could before too much water ran into his nose and he had to come out for air, coughing. The water sloshed and settled uncomfortably inside of him. His stomach clenched.

He doubled back over the sink and threw it all up. It was entirely liquid. He spit into the basin. 

Port jumped as something wet touched the back of neck, below his collar. He turned and realized it was Sonny, who had given him a soaked paper towel. It dripped down the back of his shirt along with the water off his hair.

Sonny disappeared for a second to pull a chair over. He put it behind Port.

“Sit down,” he said.

Port sat. He breathed heavily, head low, as he watched water drip off the hair hanging in front of his eyes. He realized he was still wearing his gardening gloves and slowly peeled them off.

He saw Sonny turn the faucet on to wash the sick down the drain and felt the back of the chair shift minutely as Sonny braced himself against it. “What in the actual hell is wrong with you?” 

“Wh… What do you mean?” Speaking was a chore. He let the gloves drop to the floor. The tile was already littered with mud and water.

“It’s a hundred degrees out there, man!”

Port blinked water out of his eyes. A drop broke and ran down the bridge of his nose. “He told me to get rid of the weeds.”

“So you’ll do whatever he says, even if it kills you?”

“I guess so.” 

Sonny had nothing to say to that.

Port was feeling slightly revitalized by the coolness on his neck. “That’s what we’re here for. To do what he says.”

“Yeah, well. You can’t do what he says passed out in the dirt, now can ya?”

Port pushed away the wet hair plastered to his forehead. “Could I get some water?”

“I’ll fill a glass. You don’t feel like you’re gonna hurl again, do you? Or... or seize, or anything?”

“No, no.” He took the glass gratefully. “Thank you.” He sipped from it, slower this time. It was delicious.

“You look like you’ve got some color back,” Sonny commented.

Port felt something tickle on his arm. He thought it was more water, until he felt it tickle more persistently. He looked down and realized a snail was crawling down his bicep. He put his finger in front of it, coaxing it to climb on.

He lifted the tiny snail for Sonny to see. “Look. I brought a snail in.” 

Sonny’s eyes brightened. “Can I hold it?”

Port deposited the snail onto Sonny’s open palm. 

“Snails are cute,” Sonny said.

“They’re little bastards, is what they are. They like to eat holes in the tomato plants.”

Sonny seemed scandalized at this. “It’s just the ecosystem,” he defended.

“It’s—“ Port had a realization. “You… you went outside.” Their master had forbidden him from stepping out of the house, and yet…

Sonny rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Under shitty circumstances.” He fidgeted with his shirt. “I don’t know. I just didn’t think about it. You won’t tell him, right?”

“Of course not,” Port assured.

“My socks…” Sonny lifted his foot to look at the bottom of it. Soil and mulch had turned the white sock to brown. “He’ll know I went out.”

“Change them and he’ll have no idea,” Port said. “You know he doesn’t touch the laundry. Just don’t track that on the carpet.”

“I feel like he’ll know somehow.” Sonny ran a hand through his hair, halfway tugging at it. “What if he has cameras out there? Oh, God. I’m gonna freak out.”

Port repressed a sigh and rubbed at his face. “Don’t freak out. Pet the snail if it makes you feel better.” 

Sonny shot him a well-worn dirty look. “Are you trying to be funny?”

“I’m completely serious.”

Sonny kept the sour look on his face. “I’m gonna put this thing outside. On your tomato plant.”

“Please, don’t.” He watched Sonny march off towards the foyer, hoping he was joking. Port released a breath and allowed his head to rest on the back of the chair. Like a baby, he could barely support it. He stared at the popcorn ceiling, weak and dizzy. 

Those damn dandelions were still in the yard.

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taglist: @arobear @paingoes @pumpkin-spice-whump @string-of-broken-hearts @technicallydeliciousdeer @ziptiesnfries

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Ask Game for someone’s OC(s)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

💼 - What do they do for a living?

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

🎯 -What do they do best?

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

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Sickfic prompts because I am ill and I need to cope

Whumpee waking up miserable at an ungodly hour of the night, needing to find a thinner blanket or fan to even try to sleep again

Whumpee sleeping everywhere but a bed because laying down to rest just doesn't work. So they just end up on the couch or floor, passed out in the most awkward positions

Their bones hurt. Walking around, sitting, laying down, anything. Their bones just hurt from existing

Feeling fine and standing up only to regret the decision and need to get comfortable for a long while once more

Caretaker keeping a close eye on whumpee and making sure they're medicated and hydrated. Lots of looking over to see how they're doing and finding them asleep again

Caretaker having to keep Whumpee from moving around and doing things, knowing they'll regret it soon

Caretaker wanting to comfort them with cuddles and the such but knowing they can't afford getting sick as well

Caretaker getting sick too but giving Whumpee higher priority (bonus if they nap together)

Good luck to my fellow ill people. Get some rest and drink water