#whumprilday8

[linecrosser]

Whumpril 2025 - Day 8 - Burnout

[madmarsii]

(Don't) leave

Whumpril 2025 | 8. Burnout

---

Hero hated their job and people and the world and also their job.

They slammed the keys on a side table and continued to the living space. And there—sprawled on their sofa—Villain.

Did Hero already mention they hated their job?

“This is really not the day,” they growled and turned, hoping next time they lend an eye on the sofa, Villain would be gone.

That was an unrealistic wish, of course.

When they looked again, Villain was still there, casually splayed on the cushions like the place belonged to them.

Hero gritted their teeth. “What do you even wan- You know what? I don’t care. Just get out of my home.”

This was supposed to be their sanctuary. The only place where they didn’t need to think about their job. Where they were supposed to feel safe. Warm. At peace.

This was not the case. You couldn’t turn a place into a home when you only stepped into it for a few hours each week. Whenever they managed to leave their job, they just felt straight to the mattress pushed to a corner (they really should buy a bedframe, finally) and fell asleep.

Hero headed toward their fridge, but when they opened it, there was nothing but a jar with half of a pickle. Perfect.

They closed their eyes. Took a deep breath. And turned to Villain.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to help.”

“If your help doesn’t inquire good warm food, I don’t want it.”

Villain just tilted their head to a side, staring at Hero like they have grown pair of antlers.

“I can take you out for dinner.”

“Just… leave. Please.”

They wanted to sleep so much. To pretend they don’t need to wake up in few hours and work again. Fight this goddamn bastard. Or someone else.

Villain just shrugged. “I still think dinner sounds better, but in case you’re interested—I made a potato salad.”

They stood up and pulled out a bowl from behind their back, filled with a yellowish substance that looked like someone had already eaten it once.

“You wanna poison me?”

“Why would I? You manage to destroy yourself way faster than I ever could. Now, eat up.”

Hero looked them up suspiciously. “We’re enemies.”

“If you say so.”

Villain was not pushing, just stood there quiet. Waiting. And Hero was so hungry. And maybe, getting poisoned wasn't so bad. At least, they wouldn’t have to go to their job tomorrow. So they ate in silence. It was surprisingly good, maybe because this was the first thing they'd had all day. By the time the bowl was scraped clean, the exhaustion hit all at once.

“Come on,” Villain murmured, already stepping toward them. “You look like you’re about to pass out sitting up.” They swiftly picked Hero up and carried them to the mattress on the floor. They gently laid Hero down.

“Perfect. Thank you. Now leave?”

“Not a chance.”

They laid next to them, so close they were almost touching. Silence stretching between them like a fragile thread and for a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, Hero finally spoke: “Why would you choose to be a villain?”

Villain waited. Smiled. “…Money.”

“That’s so superficial.”

 “You can’t blame me. Look at your apartment. Do they even pay you?”

“Hey-“

“I mean, next time, you could come to my place. If you’d like.”

“I don’t know where you live.”

“Of course you don’t. I’ll lead you there. If you’re not opposed to a blindfold.”

“That’s not fair. You know my address.”

“Yes. Because you are extraordinarily bad at protecting your privacy. Sometimes I even wonder how they let you in the Hero Agency.”

“Hey-“ The bickering continued for a while, but soon enough Hero fell asleep. Safe. And warm. And okay, maybe they didn’t hate every aspect of their job. They definitely didn’t hate Villain.

---

Part 2

[screengifs]

@whumpril Day 8: (Alt prompt #1) X-RAYS. Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022)

[lostwhump]

@whumpril | Day #8: Burnout L.A. Confidential (1997)

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Whumpril 2026 Day 8: Collapse

Whumpril Masterlist

Happy birthday to the anon who said it was their birthday today!! I hope you enjoy this snippet and that you have an awesome year ahead!

Caretaker flipped to the weather channel, where the meteorologist was going on about what conditions their area was to expect that evening. Strong wind chill, heavy precipitation, and chances of lightning. Caretaker cursed internally. They had told Whumpee to take a jacket with them when they went out! Now they were probably going to freeze to death out there!

Caretaker pulled out their phone and dialed Whumpee’s number. Ring. Ring. Too many rings.

Hey, this is Whumpee. Leave a message!

“Gosh darn it, Whumpee, pick up the phone!” Caretaker shouted after the beep, “come home now! Right now! You probably won’t even get this because you never check your voice mail!”

An automated voice began to speak.

“We are sorry, the person you are trying to reach has a full voicemail box. Please press one for more options.”

“Typical!” Caretaker huffed.

They tried to call Whumpee again. When they still didn’t answer, Caretaker stormed out of the living room. They stomped about the house, picking up their jacket, rainboots, and umbrella.

…

Whumpee’s phone had died two hours ago. They coughed and sniffled in the rain. Looks like they were getting a cold. They hugged themselves, rubbing their hands up and down their arms. They felt goosebumps on their skin, and their clothes were soaked through. They sneezed three times in succession and groaned.

They shivered and started on their way again. They just wanted to go home and get into something warm and dry. The only issue with this plan was the fact that Whumpee was notorious for having zero sense of direction. They would have used their GPS were it not for the fact that it was an app on their phone, the phone that was currently dead in their pocket.

They trudged down unfamiliar streets, almost slipping on a couple puddles. Their gait became uneven as their balance began to fail. The next puddle had them meet the concrete below. Whumpee cried out, collapsing on the pavement.

Immediately their ankle exploded into a symphony of hot daggers slicing through their pain receptors.

They went to push themselves up, but as soon as their ankle bore their weight, they saw stars. They fell back on the hard, rain-slicked ground.

Tears welled up in their eyes, mingling with the rain. They let them fall, and they didn’t care about any of the noise they made as they sobbed. They were so loud, that they didn’t even hear the squelch of rubbery footsteps behind them.

A shadow fell over them, and somehow the rain wasn’t coming down on them anymore. They glanced up and saw Caretaker put a hand on their shoulder.

“Come on,” Caretaker said, “we’re going home.”

Whumpee sneezed before they could answer. Caretaker’s jaw set, but they didn’t scold them.

“Aren’t you gonna yell at me?” Whumpee sniffled.

Caretaker hoisted them up and removed their raincoat. They helped Whumpee slip into it. As they did this, they noticed that Whumpee was currently standing on one leg.

Busted.

“What happened?” Caretaker asked.

“I think I landed on it wrong,” Whumpee mumbled.

Caretaker didn’t hesitate. Before Whumpee could argue, they slowly tilted them into a bridal carry position. They supported their back and legs, leaving the umbrella discarded on the ground.

“You’re gonna get wet!” Whumpee protested.

Even so, they wrapped their arms around Caretaker’s neck. Caretaker didn’t answer, they just started the trek back to the house.

“You’re mad at me.” Whumpee looked down at Caretaker’s rainboots.

“Oh yeah, furious,” Caretaker said, rolling their eyes, “everyone knows I hold a grudge. I truly am a very unforgiving person. Especially when it comes to you.”

Tears brimmed in Whumpee’s eyes. They knew it.

“I was being sarcastic, Whumpee!”

Oh. The pain might be clouding their judgment.

“I could never stay mad at you,” Caretaker went on, “we’re gonna get you home and have a look at your ankle, and then it’ll be time for a hot shower.”

“And bed?”

“And bed.”

Whumpee hugged Caretaker as best they could. Caretaker traversed the front steps and set Whumpee down just long enough to unlock the front door, then picked them up again. They deposited them across the couch and went to fetch the first aid kit.

The TV was on; it was showing the weather channel. Man, it really was gonna be a downpour tonight. Thank goodness Caretaker had a jacket.

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Whumpril Tag: @whumpril

[robyn-runestone]

Whumpril Day 8 - Collapse

Sometimes Vanity needs to make a few sacrifices, but that's just part of being an influencer.

Sometimes, when you're always filming and dancing and vlogging and editing, you forget to take breaks to sit down.

Or sleep.

Or eat.

It's fine.

Vanity may feel lightheaded to the point of collapsing sometimes, but that's totally unrelated. At least the videos look great.

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Whumpril Day 8: Collapse

You’re okay. You’re okay, April promised herself, a blatant lie that provided little comfort as tears welled and pain throbbed in waves through her legs and lower back. If she let herself consider otherwise, the panic would set in and she’d start thrashing and flailing mindlessly to get out; that’d probably be a good way to go nowhere fast and make everything worse.

How could it get any worse? A fragile sip of air caught in her throat and then broke out as a labored sob. She had set her phone down just a few traitorous feet away while she was sorting through boxes; it taunted her trembling hands as they scraped the floor, straining for any sort of purchase toward it.

Useless. It had taken Casey, Raph and Leo’s combined strength to move this heavy—excruciatingly heavy—bookcase into the antique shop; she couldn’t shift it alone. If it was so immovably sturdy, how on earth had it tipped to collapse on her in the first place?! Perhaps the floorboards where they had set it down were uneven; she thought she could feel them slope as she pushed sweaty palms for another angle, now trying to find the strength to prop on her elbows.

When she hoisted herself up, her shoulder blades slammed into one of the shelves, shocks shooting up her spine and down her arms. She caved back to the floor with almost the same amount of force as the bookcase, the wind knocked out of bruised ribs once more.

You’re…You’re…

No current comfort in lies anymore.

Not okay.

But she would be, if she could just stay calm and still until they got back with the next batch of boxes.

The guys will come. They always do…

Tears pooled under her cheek. She stayed down.

[just-a-space-rabbit]

Whumpril Day 8: Collapse

Prompt List

01: stupid dumb 52, passing out in the stupid dumb hallway. And somehow that is now my stupid dumb problem?