After being kept in a small room for most of their captivity, whumper finally allows whumpee to roam “freely” around the place they’re being held. They're enthusiastic and hopeful that this will finally be the key to their escape... until they realize how much strength they've lost.
Climbing the stairs winds them.
The soles of their feet have gone soft from disuse.
Standing for too long makes their thighs quake.
Even so, they search every corner of their new space, ignoring the way their head spins and vision swims.
When whumper comes home whumpee is a trembling heap before the door, too exhausted to lunge for the light beyond.
A whumpee whose former captivity is evident in the way they move. Hunching small steps and strange maneuvers, like they were squeezing though the cramped space their body still knows how to navigate. Sitting or sleeping in weird positions out of habit or because after so long, doing it the normal way hurts. Adopting a cautious gait at a certain time of day when they knew not to be heard moving about. Moving carefully in general. Like they're being watched. Like the restraints are still there.
I'm really CRAVING some good long term captivity whump right now. Does anyone have any recs?
Anything with good emotion/angst/fear, maybe being handcuffed/chained/tied up a lot? Would looooove anything with the aftermath of that/being rescued and dealing with the trauma of it all. And I mean LONG term. Like at minimum several months at least a year in captivity would be great.
Not limited to tv/movie media! If you have any good whump OC recs I'll take that too!!
Caius scrolled his phone absentmindedly, flipping through a new collection from a favorite fashion brand. He tapped his thumb on the heart beside the pieces that interested him - he’d refine it down to what he really wanted later, when he had both hands free.
Tommy was restless in his perch on Caius’s lap, twitching and shivering as the hand around his cock lazily toyed with him. He was such a noisy boy, his voice soft and sweet on a litany of moans and sighs. Caius lowered his phone for a moment, focusing back on him to lean in close to the shell of his ear.
“See how wonderful it feels to be a good boy? Because good boys get to play with me like this sometimes, don’t they, angel?”
Tommy whined, but when Caius gave him a sharp squeeze of warning, he stuttered out a “y-yes Caius!” that earned him back the more gentle ministrations. Caius returned to his phone, giving an exasperated sigh as he scrolled down.
“Honestly though, houndstooth? What year do they think it is?”
The catalogue he was looking at dimmed suddenly as the screen changed, chiming cheerily as a new banner flashed. Sam’s picture appeared, offering Caius a mischievous grin.
Incoming call from - DA LOVE DOCTOR SAM
“Ah, fuck.” He sat up slightly, leaning forwards a bit and taking his hand from Tommy to snap his fingers in front of his face. “Hey, hey, listen. I want total silence from you, not a fucking peep, you got it?”
“Yes Caius.”
“Great. Now shut the fuck up.”
He blindly groped him as he slid his thumb up the screen, resuming stroking him once he found his dick again.
“Yes?................What?.........No, I didn’t forget, I’m getting ready right now, are you ready?.........Okay, well, I just have to pick up a– what?....... Yes, I got our reservation. Yes, I did……..No, not at Francesca’s, I’m taking you somewhere else………..well, it’s a surprise, you’ll just have to wait and see. I’m just about to head out. I–.........yes, really, smart ass. I’ll see you soon. Wear something I’ll like, okay?...........No, that should be fine. As long as it’s not all wrinkled up like last time. ………………Well, throw it in the dryer for a couple minutes or something.”
Tommy pressed a hand hard over his mouth to stay quiet, rocking his hips back and forth as Caius started doing something really devious with his thumb.
“Don’t wear those bowling shoes. …...Yes, obviously they aren’t really bowling shoes, but they look like them. You know the ones. You have lots of nice shoes, you can wear literally any other pair. ..…….No. No, of the business casual ones. Or sneakers, if they still look nice. Okay. Okay, I’ll see you soon. Yes, ‘really’, do you want to go to dinner or not?........Alright, alright, bye.”
Caius flicked his phone off and let out a dramatic sigh, dropping it onto the bed beside him.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Honestly.” He used his newly freed hand to prop himself up, pressing his chest against Tommy’s back as he leaned back in.
“Alright little one, time to wrap things up. Don’t keep me waiting. You’ve got thirty seconds, and I want you to finish.”
Tommy keened pitifully, but the fist around him became urgent, and his thighs started to shake.
“You can do it, come on– that’s it, I know you’re ready,” Caius encouraged, and it didn’t take long at all before Tommy started making the high “ah, ah, ah!” sounds that told Caius he was about to lose it. Caius nosed through his soft curls, nuzzling into the sensitive skin just above his collar. He indulged in the soft scent that lingered in his hair from the peachy new conditioner he had picked for him.
“Good boy, Tommy, good– oh, there it is.” His cock throbbed in his hand as Tommy came, crying out as his relief was forced from him. As soon as he was done, Caius let him go and wiped his hand on Tommy’s thigh.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now hop off’a me, I need to go get ready like, two hours ago.”
Tommy dismounted clumsily with the help of a firm shove, collapsing onto his back as he panted for air. Caius swung his freed legs over the side and stood up with a groan, slowing to stretch his back out with a wince.
“Ugh– I’ve got to get you a better mattress. I don’t know how you can still walk after sleeping on that thing.” He stepped into Tommy’s doorless en-suite to wash his hands, hitting the light switch on with his elbow. Flicking the worst of the water from his fingers, he used his damp hands to smooth his hair out, and plucked out a stray black strand caught in the nose bridge of his glasses.
“I don’t suppose you know of any good places to eat?” Caius called through the doorway, and when he emerged, he picked his phone back up from the bed. Tommy was dazed and hadn’t even noticed it was there. Caius had never seen someone so devastated by a quick handjob until he’d gotten Tommy, and it never failed to amuse him. Caius smiled to himself as he tapped open his mapping app, flicking through a list of restaurant options. He quickly lost his smirk to a scowl.
“God, there’s nothing decent around here.”
Tommy had located his underwear and bunched the fabric self-consciously over his sex in a pitiful attempt at modesty. His skin was still ripe with a delicious blush, pastel on his pale features. Caius let his gaze linger on him for a moment, thinking.
“What should I do?”
Tommy looked up at Caius in surprise. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, his labored breathing slowly returning to normal.
“Um…well, I don’t know what’s around here,” he admitted, a little embarrassed, though they both knew why. “What type of food does he like?”
Caius sat down on the edge of the mattress, pursing his lips. “He’ll eat anything. Not exactly a refined palette, that one.”
“Okay…” Tommy pulled a bed sheet over his lap and propped himself up on his elbows. “What kind of place do you want to go to?”
“Somewhere that doesn’t require a reservation,” he grumbled, and returned to scrolling through his phone.
“Hmm…” Tommy mulled it over. “Well…he likes video games, right?”
Caius looked over at him. “Yeah, he told you that?”
“Sometimes he’ll tell me about what game he’s playing. Maybe you could take him to a barcade? If you’re okay with bar food. Or I know there are like, axe-throwing bars now, maybe something like that?”
Caius typed in a new search, tapping through the options and raising his eyebrows at the results. “Shit, wait, that actually might be perfect. Oh, well, this one sucks. But this one…” he trailed off, and Tommy watched his face as he performed whatever investigation he had deemed necessary.
“Mm...It’s 35 minutes from his place, but the food actually looks decent. God, I haven’t been to one of these since college.”
“They probably don’t take reservations, but there isn’t usually a wait at those types of things.”
“Ehh, he won’t push it.” He locked his screen and shoved it in his pocket. “Well, grand. He’s going to be geeked.”
“Geeked,” Tommy echoed with a small smile, his voice dry and tired. Caius leaned over and ruffled his hair fondly.
"You barely fought me at all today," he murmured approvingly, just before leaving, locking the door behind him with a familiar click.
Tommy laid back on his bed and threw an arm over his eyes, forcing a few slow, deep breaths.
“I don’t mind!” he proclaimed to himself, and he let his arm fall back beside him on the mattress, fixing his eyes on the ceiling.
“I don’t mind at all.”
It was a lie, but repeating it a few times helped it feel closer to the truth. When he could muster the energy, he found his remote on the floor, and watched TV in his filth until he could take a shower without thinking about it too much.
~
~
~
Sam, later that night: Wow my boyfriend is so thoughtfull :)) lmao
Hello hello! Did you know that among the many aptitudinal tests they made me to before allowing me to become a white collar slave (and there were many, really too many) there was one that was meant to test my levels of resilience? Well reader, my results were off the roof, which is why after having spent a few days wallowing in my sorrows at is it my right, I have decided that the solutions to bad writing is simply to write more. You are very welcome. This is a snippet on which I’ve been working for a couple of christmases already, as the subject matter is what I’d be inspired for in the aforementioned period and no other, and so this year I decided to push through it and finish it for you all. I hope you enjoy it, and upwards and onwards 💪🏼
CW: long term captivity, mention of past torture and conditioning, mention of non-con (not explicit), collar, compulsion, religious themes and religious erasure, identity erasure, golden cage, slavery, angst, forced to kneel, murder threat.
The truth was, Kai didn’t even notice the passing of the first Christmas in captivity. Harsh as his conditions were down in the dungeons, he had no way of knowing what day it was, kept chained and strung up in perennial stress positions as he was. For Kyriel did his very best to isolate him from the world in that first year, to make him forget himself and whoever he’d been before him. So that Christmas Day passed like a torture day like another, Kai writhing and sobbing as his bones were snapped, the rope tightened around his throat.
The second year was different already, once Kyriel had brought him to the belly of the Tower and allowed him to crawl alive out of the mud. The captivity had moved above ground then, more about training and reconditioning for the day Kai would eventually be allowed outside the circle of the runes to fight. So that Christmas Day passed differently this time, Kai spending it on his knees with his arms behind his back — the collar tight around his throat, Kyriel lording over him as he forced him in between his legs where he sat at his desk. Kai’s only mean of taking note of the passing of time was the snow he could spy falling from his window, the tally of days he carved on the wooden side of his bed every time Kyriel allowed him back into it and did not keep him in his.
The third year, when Kyriel’s leash had relaxed enough to let him go out on his own in the Tower, after Kai had set fire to half of it and faced its consequences — Kai noticed the Yule tree at the centre of the square in the angel’s capital, visible from the balconies of the Tower he was now allowed to roam.
“Why don’t we have one of those in the Tower, Magister?” Kai asked that night, coughing after Kyriel had finished abusing his throat. The boy’s nails digged in his palms, his mind frantically clinging to whatever kernels of light he’d found on the day to keep himself sane. “Your people have decorations outside.”
Kyriel caressed the boy’s cheek, watching with satisfaction how he’d swallowed and recovered himself in less than a minute. A wondrous improvement from the hate and vitriol he might have expected just a few months prior, his pupil’s resilience awe inspiring and terrifying in equal measure.
“Our people, sweet,” he corrected, but there was no bite in his chiding. “And why should I celebrate the birth of a rival god?”
Kai startled, taken aback.
“Yule is about the cycle of seasons. It’s not—“ he started, the old human part of him that had believed in such things resurfacing from his youth. Silly, really — but then, he knew from his studies, there had been places when Christianity had co-opted the ancient pagan traditions of his people for its purposes, covering it with a coating of its own lore. And before then…
“You could take it over.” He suggested, calming down, thinking of logs and fire and celebration and how beautiful that time of rest had been once. “The Romans did it with their sun god.”
Kyriel only hummed, brushing gently the boy’s hair away.
It was so that the fourth year of Kai’s captivity a big Yule tree was erected in the Throne Room, to the secret delight of the Fallens whose humanity had not yet fully been ripped out of their bodies. Kyriel presenting his pupil with a new set of clothes in the morning, fine gold thread woven over a bed of red velvet, and with a vibrant green belt adorned with precious stones to match his collar and a new pair of golden bracelets. Nevermind that they were all too reminding of manacles — Kai accepted them gratefully, wariness in his every movement, lest his captor found a reason to hurt him instead.
“Happy Yule,” Kyriel smiled, the angel dressed himself in a deep blue velvety tunic, diamonds sparkling over his shoulders like a starry cape slowly reaching down his navel. “I have another present for you, sweet.”
Kai only hoped it wouldn’t be slaves, given how poorly it had gone the last time Kyriel’s had thought of gifting him some.
He was left to wonder, unease twisting and growing in his gut, as the angel let him out of his rooms and down the large marble stairs leading to the lower floors of the Tower. The corridors through which they walked were adorned by golden decorations that slaves must have spent the whole night putting up, candles and everywhere the eyes lay everything sparkled, catching the streaming morning light coming from windows frosted with ice. Kyriel’s courtesans, those who they encountered on their way down coming out of their rooms, bowed and moved aside as they walked — all dressed in a similar festive way to theirs, velvet clothes matching Kai and Kyriel’s own while being careful not to be quite as fine as their emperor’s were.
Kai could feel their curious eyes on him, realising Kyriel was taking him out to court without a muzzle on him. Without chains, a leash.
The Throne Room, when they finally entered it, was magnificently adorned. Kyriel’s throne shone crystal black among the twinkle of candles and the silver and gold of lights magically levitating in the air, the Yule Tree enormous and almost reaching the heights of the cavernous space where it was placed at the centre of the hall. It too, like the rest of the room, was covered in bright silver garlands and small balls of crystal and bone twinkling and reflecting the many lights shining across the room. And at its bottom, in a pile that kept growing with every member of the court approaching to deliver a package of their own, was tribute — for Kai wouldn’t dare call it presents when he doubted they were freely given. Not when Kyriel wanted to put up a show, not when the consequences of refusal were worse than death for him and anyone else in that room.
Kai wondered, once again, what each of the Fallens thought. If they were truly content, believing Kyriel their god. If they even had a chance of free thought, given how absolutely the angel controlled them all.
“Welcome!” Kyriel’s voice was loud, magically amplified, when he addressed the crowd from the top of the dais and his throne. “Welcome, all.”
Kai kept his face composed, the boy summoning some feigned boredom to plaster on his features. A mask to hide his true feelings, when he felt the eyes of the fucker’s court hungry on him — Kyriel’s Council, who he saw almost every night, but other nobles who had only ever seen him scream at parties. And others, who Kai had terrified the last time he’d set foot in the Throne Room with a sword — those who had escaped the slaughter by running like cowards, that was.
The boy let a small smirk ghost the outline of his lips, satisfaction at the memory of how they had all screamed. He let them see a sliver of the predator, of the caged thing only tamed by Kyriel’s presence next to him.
He was going to kill them all one day, after all. He had sworn it.
“Today is a day of celebration,” Kyriel continued, the angel lifting his arms to address the crowd. “Yule, rejuvenation.”
There was a cheer, the rising of glasses from the Fallens in the hall at the words. Their clothes were splendid, crystal in their fine hands and hair — the contrast stark with the attire of the slaves standing almost invisibly at the sides of the room, dressed in rags and with trays of refreshment ready in their hands. Kai’s people, the boy always aware of them wherever he was.
“As you know, I have declared this day to be a holy one. To merge the recent traditions of the indigenous land with the more ancient immortal ones. To allow for the wisdom of the betters in our society to guide the hearty traditions of those who shall return to the mud.”
Kai felt a faint feeling of nausea rise into his gorge, the boy remaining expressionless and obedient at Kyriel’s side as he talked.
“But as much as it is my pleasure to celebrate this time with you all,” the angel smiled, and Kai’s hair rose behind his neck even though the angel had not looked at him yet, “there is another reason why I would like to command today as a day of celebration across all lands. Another cause for rejoicing and worship, for all.”
Kai braced as best as he could, four years of captivity having taught him not to expect anything good.
“Today it’s my prince’s birthday!” A pause, as a ripple of surprise run among the crowd. “And we shall celebrate as it demands his rank.”
More cheers, more celebrations suddenly so shrill they couldn’t be but forced ones. The crowd turned to look at each other, barely hidden surprise on their faces — howling their joy like perfect sycophants after a beat, loudly stomping their feet in the ground and clinking their cups around. For Kyriel’s court might walk around without a collar around their throats, but there were no doubts as to where the power lay in the room — Kai doubting, after he’d spent years killing their own on the other side of the battlefield, after he’d culled half of the court just a few years prior, than any of them held any love for him at all. The boy too stunned by Kyriel’s words to react as the false cheers washed over him, the crowd crying out as one.
Today, notably, wasn’t his birthday at all.
“Now.” Kyriel smirked, rising his voice to be heard above the crowd, “I too have a present from my pupil. A present to welcome him back at court, after he proved himself to be civilised enough for it now.” He smirked again, raising a hand. “A word of warning, though. He is allowed to bite back if attacked.”
There was an uneasy ripple of laughter, the court shifting as they all remembered what exactly Kai was capable of.
Kyriel snapped his fingers, Kai’s runes blazing under his clothes.
“On your knees, love.”
And perhaps there was some kernel of truth in the angel’s words when he’d said Kai had proved himself to be civilised enough to be brought out at court, for the boy didn’t even think about digging his heels and try to resist the command this time around. And why should he, when Kai had violently tested the boundaries of his constraints enough times already, and with them faced the painful consequences of refusal? The boy chose to keep his dignity about him, obeying without a sound — only kneeling with deliberate slowness over the marble floor at Kyriel’s feet, taking all the time he could without looking like he was frustrating the command.
There was no choice. No battle to be had, when Kyriel gave him a direct command.
The boy closed his hands into fists, the chill of the marble floor seeping into his knees. He lifted his head up to spy his master from under his lashes, trying not to show the apprehension he felt in his gut.
His stomach flipped, Kyriel looking at him with an all too fond smile. One of those that promised violence — the violence of when he was proud.
“My gift to my prince.”
The angel lifted his hands, familiar darkness beginning to form in between his fingers with the thunderous sound of clashing storms. Sparkles shone from deep inside the dark, like thunders contained into his hands — the summoned mass twisting and shuddering as if it held within itself the multitude of a roaring universe. Kyriel moulding it and shaping it to the startled awe of his court, the strength of his magic such that they all took at least half a step back — Kai, too, wincing where he knelt at the angel’s feet, but knowing better than to inch away or flinch.
It was a beautiful thing, savage and delicate at once, that Kyriel finally forged. A crown, made of glittering crystal of the same dark material of his throne, of the collar around Kai’s throat.
“A crown for a Prince.”
The cheers were genuine this time, Kai thought with faint lightheadedness, as the shouts of the crowd exploded through the hall as Kyriel placed the crown over his brow. The thing surprisingly light, solid and digging softly into his head where its shaper edges lay — the angel smiling down at him, Kai looking up surprised from where he knelt at his feet.
Part of him still braced for the moment when the runes would lit up around him, for his captor to make him scream.
“Happy Yule, love,” the angel murmured, softly, so that only he could hear among the cheers of the crowd. “Let’s start putting to use that popularity of yours. Let them worship you as my pupil, the silver prince came to save them all.” He winked at him. “It is a good idea indeed — to steal the bones of previous worship for our own. As part of my pantheon, that’s it.”
And Kai, even as it finally dawned on him that he might not be made to hurt this time around, as Kyriel took his hand in his and lifted him to his feet to the roaring cheers of the crowds, he dizzily realised what his captor had done. How he’d taken his birthday, made it into a public celebration — and in doing so stripped it from him, another piece of identify unceremonious taken away without mercy or care.
“Drinks! Drinks for all!”
Because Kyriel had made clear all along he’d use him as he saw fit, hadn’t he? And what was Kai’s history, a thing as small as his birth, if not something for him to mould and repurpose? As if it didn’t matter that it had been the day his mother had held him, the day he’d been loved by his family as he came into the world. As if the angel even knew their names, as if he cared.
“Drinks for my prince!”
Kai felt himself grow dizzy, the boy numbly accepting the gold cup Kyriel pushed into his hands. For he knew better than to refuse him, knew better how useless it would be to make a scene — even though there was a faint, roaring part of him that clamoured for him to scream.
Today was the winter solstice. And there was power in the day, for Kyriel to claim that his god-prince was born on the night of the rebirth of light. For him to make it a symbol of the conquest of the champion of the human lands, a nod to those who still resisted him and worshipped Kai. A sign, an inequivocabile political message only strengthen by religious lore, that their silver god was where he was meant to be — at Kyriel’s side, forever more.
Kai took a mechanical sip of the drink the angel had given him, the taste sweet on his lips. The crown dug into his brow, its weight unfamiliar on his neck as he watched the crowd begin to dance and sing at the bottom of the dais — Kyriel smiling happily next to him, towering on them all with his height alone.
“You are a bastard,” the boy murmured, unblinking and without changing expression an inch, voice so low that only the angel would hear among the celebration. “A fucking bastard.”
Kyriel didn’t blink either, the monster continuing to smile at his court as if nothing was wrong.
“Drink, Kai,” he ordered. “It’s Yule, and it wouldn’t do for the crown to fall on the floor because of the slap you’d deserve now.” He turned, the angel lifting his cup to Kai’s own. “I’ll straighten you out tonight. For now, relax.” He smirked. “It is your birthday, after all.”
And Kai, knowing all too well what would happen if he protested, if he too did what Kyriel would deserve in turn — if he lounged at him, closed his hands around his throat and choked him until he was no more — took a deep breath and allowed himself to drink from his cup. Deeply, gulp after gulp, the boy savouring the luxurious taste of champagne in his mouth.
It was his birthday indeed, after all.
“Huzzah,” the boy smiled, his tone sligly gasping when he emerged from his cup. Because fuck it, he might as well enjoy what was good of his captivity, since it wasn’t like he could get out of it. “Merry merry Yule, Magister.” He lifted his eyes, silver eyes shining in the Christmas lights. “May this year bring light to us all.”
They both knew, as Kyriel snorted and lifted his cup to Kai’s, that the boy’s smile promised death by a thousand cuts. That the twinkle in his eyes wasn’t joy, even though his kept his face perfectly composed — but hate, as cold and deep like the pit of hell itself.
The angel smiled, relishing the sight of his collared beast.
“Merry Yule indeed, pupil mine.” He leaned forward, softly placing a kiss to his cheeck. “And may you be as good as you have been for me this year.”
Hi, I like your writing, and I really liked your "A Discussion" idea with the hero and villain jailed together! I would love to see any other writing you have on that, though only if you want to post it. Have a wonderful day! 💜💜💜
Aw thank you so much! I love you anon :)
Here is that post
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Hero paled a little. “What?”
“You heard me.”
They all eyed each other for a minute. “What happens to the other person?” Villain frowned.
“Well, I’m kinda bored of two pets.” Supervillain pouted. “I think it’s time I get to know one of you more closely.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Supervillain left to give them time to decide, Hero thought Villain would have gotten up and gone to get free. Making a sneering comment to Hero which was supposed to be a joke but in actuality hurt.
But instead, Villain carefully settled back. Moving his chained hands to his lap. “You ready to get out of here?”
“What?” Hero mumbled.
“I’ll stay.” Villain offered quieter.
Hero frowned. “Hold on. Wait-”
“Discussion over Hero.”
He winced at the harshness. It had been a while since Villain had shown such an attitude towards them. Despite it all, they had grown close. They used to fight each other till blood was drawn. Now they were the ones patching each other up after a torture session with Supervillain.
Hero stayed quiet for a minute, knowing time was running out but trying to figure out what to say. “My job is to help and protect others. If I have the chance to help you and I don’t-“
“Hero. You have the chance to go help hundreds, maybe even thousands of people. I'm not gonna be a hero after this. I won't go out of my way to save people. I won’t return the favor, I'm not like you.”
Hero held back a whine of sorts. “Villain, you are important.”
Villain quietly considered that. Looking down at his arms and legs scattered in scars before over at Hero, some were the same, others were different. They’d been tortured together for years now. He didn’t know why the supervillain was doing this, or why now he wanted one of them gone, but he knew it wasn’t for any good reason.
“Hero. You need to go.”
“B-“
“Ssh.” He mumbled softly. He moved closer before gently wrapping his arm around them, careful not to tangle their chains up.
Hero looked at him before carefully hugging him back. “I hate you.” He mumbled, gently pressing his face against him for comfort.
“I know.” Villain chuckled softly. “Hero? Just… don’t forget me. I know saving me may not work-“
“Oh, I will save you.” Hero hissed quietly.
Villain laughed at that, harder than he had in a long time. After a minute grinning. “Alright. I’ll give you that. Just. If you can’t- please don’t forget me?”
Hero frowned. “I would never.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Supervillain took Hero away Villain could barely watch. Just praying he hadn’t made a mistake and Supervillain was going to kill him.
Supervillain didn’t though. They kept to their word.
They took Hero outside the facility and even took them on a plane flight before going to a random street. Hero’s hands were tied and he was struggling to keep up with Supervillain’s longer stride.
Suddenly he stopped and Hero ran into his back. “Now. I wanted to try this new power on you.”
Hero frowned, looking around at the streets that were full of people. “Wha-“
Supervillain released his arms and held Hero’s head. “I can take away memories.”
Hero thrashed suddenly while trying to get away but Supervillain pinned them onto a wall.
How much does whumpee deal with the following: anger, shame, feeling worthless?
I'm gonna talk about Declan before his captivity versus during (at least where the story is currently), since these change quite drastically between those times!
Content warnings: talk of depression and long-term captivity
Before Captivity
Declan struggles deeply with depression in his day to day life, leading to intense feelings of worthlessness. In fact, he's grown reliant on his streaming chat to remind himself that he can make a positive impact on anyone at all. Hecklers and negative comments bother him more than he likes to admit.
Connected with the last point, Declan tends to lose contact with his closest family and friends when he falls into a spiral. It's something that causes him a great deal of shame, which makes him anxious about reaching out again, which makes him feel worse. It's a vicious cycle.
Anger isn't part of his daily routine, unless of course we count Gamer Rage™
During Captivity
Oh, look! Anger! Loads and heaps of it! Declan feels such intense anger under Hasan's hold that simply experiencing it is draining. He's far too aware of how inhumane and unfair this is, and yet the anger does nothing toward solving it. Declan often has to suppress it in order to think clearly.
Shame goes hand in hand, stemming from his anger. He's pissed that his life has been reduced to mere survival and, in the same breath, he's ashamed of the way he acts. Every second of obedience is multiplied into hours of rumination, telling himself what he should have done instead.
Declan is so busy being swallowed by the rest of his feelings that his usual worthlessness only comes to the forefront when he's truly and deeply failed something. An escape, perhaps, or caused himself a torture that wouldn't have happened otherwise.
This was such a fun and cool concept for sending asks! Thanks for putting it on :D!
