#gabriel whump series

[whumpslist]

Intelligence’s whumps’ list

[referred to main male character: Gabriel Vaughn, portrayed by Josh Holloway]

Season 1

.01: under gunpoint and taken, interrogated, brief scuffles, chased and under gunfire, jumped off a cliff, bickering with his new bodyguard, almost shot by a sniper rifle, into a gunfight, under gunpoint adn kidnapped, punched and manhandled, restrained to an operating bed, faking a seizure, fought, punched, rough fight and bloody face.

.02: emotional distress, argued with his boss, upset, fought, argued with his colleague than his boss, really upset, pushed off a building, grieving.

.03: grieving and getting drunk, bar scuffle, under stress and hallucinating, hallucinating and punched, weak, IV into his arm and under procedure

.04: fought, into a gunfight (plus Agent Griffin’s whump).

.05: granade exploded without consequences, frustrated, into a gunfight.

.06: into a gunfight, rough fight and bruised face, under gunpoint and locked into a cabin put on fire, brief fights against multiple opponents, under gunpoint, exposed to a virus without consequences.

.07: upset, under gunfire, unpleasant conversation, angry, worried sick (plus Cassidy’s whump).

.08: memories of war (injured leg, limping and helped walking, groaning in pain, rolling down and screaming, heavily breathing), and emotional distress, hit by explosion blast and rough landing on the floor, moaning and coughing, memories of war (injured and bloody leg, limping and helped walking, groaning in pain, pushed on the couch and screaming, heavily breathing and grunting, upset, passed out), argued with his boss, under gunfire, punched and under gunpoint, memories of war (injured, argued and fought with his friend, heavily breathing), under gunpoint and blood at his mouth, rough fight, groaning (plus Jamison’s whump).

.09: hit by EMP, sudden headache and amnesia, restrained, locked into a cell, overwhelmed and screaming, fought, manipulated, under gunpoint, rough fight and bruised face, dizzy after a strong hit and almost killed.

.10: worried, under gunfire, chemical weapon in his hands.

.11: into a gunfight.

.12: laying asleep, headache, hung over and feeling sick, receiving upsetting news and taken into custody, framed for murder, fought and escaped, punched at his shoulder, shot at his abdomen by a sniper and collapsed, helped to walk. groaning and collapsing on his knees, bloody wound, heavily breathing.

.13: injured and bleeding from previous episode, many grunting, helped walking, passed out, field surgery, laying in bed resting and changing dressing, groaning, holding his torso, rough fight and hit at his wound, collapsing over the wall and bleeding again, dressing changed (stitched ripped but not shown), laying in bed, helped walking, pushing himselg too hard and grunting, bleeding again.

#Intelligence #Gabriel Vaughn #Josh Holloway #whumpslist #episode guide #whump #whumps #tv shows #TV show #serie tv #TV series #telefilm

[alittlehurtwithyourcomfort]

The Night Agent Whumplist

Character: Peter Sutherland (played by Gabriel Basso)

Age Rating: TV-MA

Show available on Netflix

Genre: Mystery, Political, Thriller, Action

(The styling of this whumplist is inspired by @love-me-a-lotta-whump​ who has an amazing blog, go check them out!)

Synopsis: While monitoring an emergency line, an FBI agent answers a call that plunges him into a deadly conspiracy involving a mole at the White House. (via Google)

Note: This show is honestly really interesting, even outside the great whump. I highly recommend, especially for action fans. 

TW’s: blood/violence, gun violence, violence towards women, teacher-student relationship

List Key:

bold = most whump, best whump, or favorite whump scenes

~~ = scene break

THIS LIST CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES!

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

1x01: caught in an explosion, unconscious, bloody face, neck wound, struggling to move, in pain ~~ concussion, examined, rough fight, hit by a car ~~ neck scar ~~ fought ~~ shot at, stressed

1x02: shot at ~~ rough fall, spitting out blood

1x03: (flashback: bruised/cut face) ~~ stressed

1x04: stressed

1x05: stressed

1x06: very rough fight, bloody face, slashed in the side with a knife, groaning in pain, helped to stand/walk, holding his side ~~ stumbling, in pain ~~ wound stitched/cleaned, in pain, shocked 

1x07: bruised/cut face, stressed ~~ accidentally hits side, wincing in pain ~~ shoved to the ground, handcuffed

1x08: bruised/cut face, handcuffed ~~ stressed

1x09: bruised/cut face, stressed

1x10: bruised/cut face ~~ very rough fight, shot at ~~ bloody face, bleeding through his shirt, extremely stressed, at gunpoint, caught in an explosion ~~ unconscious, ringing ears, struggling to move, at gunpoint, shoved to the ground, in pain, wincing

#whump #whumplist #whump blog #whump community #the night agent

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Current Main Project - Compass

She doesn’t look back at Pete outside the cell. No sense showing she’s invested in making sure she has backup. She’ll never survive this trip if she can’t project confidence.  “Hands.” She hopes her voice is stern and commanding, not a request.  Barrett extends his hands, wrists together. She snaps the cuffs around his arms. His skin feels cool and dead, like she’s touching a corpse. She resists the urge to wipe her hands on her pant legs when she’s done. The cuffs are tight, biting into the skin around the heavy bones of his wrists, but this is the only size she had available. The cuffs are dual plated, so it’s not silver directly pressing against his skin, but she can’t imagine this will be a comfortable trip. “Okay, let’s go.”

Los Angeles – 2017 An off-the-books prisoner transfer turns into a deadly road trip on Route 66 after vampire hunter Sierra Aguirre-Stoker takes on the dangerous assignment attempting to live up to the family name.

After learning the truth about her father Gabriel’s secret life and the underground world he was part of, Sierra Aguirre joined the Amarillo Hunter Agency to follow his footsteps. Two years (and a transfer to the Chimera agency in Los Angeles, to train with her uncle, John Stoker) later, she’s a rising star, in a world where vampires are becoming increasingly subject to human knowledge and scrutiny. When a vampire wanted by both human and hunter law enforcement is captured, LA authorities demand that he be tried for the murders he was wanted for as a human. Concerned that human legal and law enforcement systems are no match for a dangerous rogue vampire, the agency determines that the best way to keep him from escaping to transport him out of the jurisdiction to the Silver Cells in Arizona before any official request is made. Sierra and her partner volunteer for the assignment, which seems like the perfect way to prove she’s a worthy heir to her family’s impressive legacy. But as the journey continues, she finds out that many things she’s taken for granted are more complicated than she wants to believe, including her job, her family legacy, and the guilt or innocence of her prisoner…

Tagline

Sometimes the monster is the one you see in the mirror.

Genres

Horror, Thriller, Suspense, Adventure

Character Bios

Sierra

Pete

Shane

Character bios for full cast (and extended universe OCs)

Project Playlist

Spotify

YouTube

Links

Project Pinterest

"Netflix Series" style teaser

Tagging @catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies  @writeouswriter @whump-place @floh673 and if I'm missing anyone for the taglist please let me know!

#compass #nanowrimo project announcement #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2023 #sierra aguirre-stoker #shane barrett #pete jemison

[whump-me]

Martyr, Chapter 30: A Good Emptiness

Chapter 30 (the final chapter!) of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: escape, aftermath of severe injury, emotional whump, the closest thing to a warm and fuzzy ending you’ll get from me

---

Wraith

Sharp pains shot up Wraith’s legs as he stumbled out the door and into the narrow tunnel. He had lost track of how long he had spent hurrying down the hallway. Only a few minutes, most likely, but his speed-healed bones were already threatening to give out on him.

The urine-yellow lights at the top of the curved ceiling cast an eerie glow over the tunnel, illuminating its narrow confines and making it appear even more cramped than it actually was. A sense of claustrophobia came over Wraith as he looked down the long, curved hallway and saw no end in sight.

The tunnel held no sounds of life aside from Wraith’s irregular huffing as he tried to catch his breath. Clicks and whirs from the machines hidden behind the walls—the machines that kept the domes functioning—provided barely noticeable background noise, like a swarm of mechanical bees buzzing in the darkness. The air smelled stale and trapped. It was nothing like the fancy filtered air in the Special Security compound, cool and filtered and sterile and always tasteless.

That stale air was the best thing he had smelled in his life.

He had to get out of here, and fast. Special Security would discover Isadora’s body soon, if they hadn’t already. Shortly after that, someone would discover the disabled cameras and the unlocked door. They would be coming for him. He had to be on the surface before that happened, and lose himself in a crowd—or else find his way to the parts of the tunnels that he knew like the back of his hand.

He knew all that. Even so, he couldn’t force his aching bare feet to take another step. He sagged back against the wall of the tunnel. The chipped tile of the tunnel walls was warm against his back. He slid bonelessly down until he was sitting on the hard, dusty floor.

He didn’t take an inventory of all the places that hurt. That would only have discouraged him. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the protests of his chest muscles, which hadn’t quite forgotten the damage Isadora had inflicted. He looked over to the side, toward the door. The featureless metal revealed nothing of what lay hidden inside. Nothing of all the people the Special Security compound had swallowed over the past decade.

It should have swallowed him like all the rest. He should have disappeared through that door and never come out again.

But maybe it had. The version of him that would have died for Gabriel’s cause—the version of him that had thought he wanted that—had died in there. He wasn’t sure who it was that had walked out.

But if he got lucky, maybe he would have the chance to figure it out.

Assuming he could force himself to his feet before Special Security caught up to him right here, where would he go next? Already, he felt himself pulled back to Gabriel. It was a physical tug in his gut, like he had a magnet lodged there. It was reflexive. Whenever he had found himself lost over the past decade, whenever his inner compass had gotten skewed, he had always known Gabriel could set him right.

And then, somewhere along the line, their dynamic had taken on another layer. Gabriel hadn’t just been his compass; he had been Gabriel’s weapon. Gabriel had aimed him, and he had flown straight and true.

He had done the things Gabriel couldn’t. He had thought it had all been his own idea, that the things he had done were unthinkable to Gabriel. But of the two of them, Gabriel had always been the strategist.

He didn’t blame Gabriel for being who he was. But he wondered how it would feel to set his own aim for a change.

Without Gabriel, though, what did he have waiting for him on the outside? Not even as much as he had going in. After his arrest, he knew there was nothing waiting for him at his small apartment. No belongings, no credits in his accounts, no ID. No way to go through a simple checkpoint without getting flagged.

No cause to fight for. No purpose.

All he had was the breath in his lungs, and the heart beating in his chest. Which wasn’t nothing. It was more than he thought he would get to keep, when he had lain on the floor of the interrogation room and watched himself from far above. And he had something else—an empty space inside him, the vast and hollow, echoing with promise.

It was the place he used to try to fill with Gabriel’s cause.

It wasn’t a bad kind of emptiness. It felt kind of like being a kid, in the days before Earth had come. Without the weight of feigned purpose weighing him down, a sense of reckless possibility came over him. It made him feel young again, as if the past decade had melted away, even as he lay slumped against the side of the tunnel, his body heavy with exhaustion.

He forced himself to his feet, because he had to—and because he could, when up until a few moments ago he had thought he would never go anywhere under his own power again, and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. His half-healed injuries ached and stabbed him in at least a dozen places. He didn’t care. He would be feeling the effects of his treatment at Isadora’s hands for the rest of his life, he was sure. It was the price of his survival. He might as well start getting used to it now.

He started down the tunnel, step by halting step, bracing himself against the wall with the twisted fingers of one hand. He didn’t know where the tunnel would come out, or where he would go once he reached the surface. All he knew was that he would take whichever road would lead him away from where Gabriel was no doubt mourning him—sitting in the soft thick light of his office, feeling the burden of all the sacrifices he had made.

A sharp twist of affection tightened Wraith’s heart as he pictured Gabriel. Wraith couldn’t hate him for what he had done. In fact, in some sick way, Wraith loved him for it—because if he hadn’t been willing to do it, he wouldn’t be the person Wraith had fallen in love with.

Once Wraith had gotten himself settled and figured out how to stay off Special Security’s radar, maybe he would send him a message. Just a note to let him know he had survived. Maybe it would ease some of the weight on Gabriel’s shoulders. Wraith hoped so.

But he wouldn’t go back.

He wouldn’t take the easy way out like Isadora, either. She had chosen to die rather than figure out who she was without everything that used to fill her empty spaces. He preferred to be selfish. He preferred to live.

He was born for blood and death. Or that was what he had assumed when his calling had found him. The fit had been so natural that he had never questioned it. He had never wondered where talent ended and desire began, and whether he truly owed the world his blood and his fear and his fury until the end of his days.

He had never asked whether his calling was destiny or accident, or imagined the possibility of being reborn.

Maybe he would take up the fight again, once he figured out what it meant to him besides a chance to earn Gabriel’s love. There were still people out there who could benefit from what he could do, and what he was willing to do. Or maybe there was something else out there waiting for him. If so, he hoped he would have the strength to turn toward it, and away from the magnetic pull of his old life. He could be useful to the rebellion, after all, but the rebellion didn’t need him. If it had, Gabriel would never have been willing to sacrifice him.

Gabriel was the one they needed. And Wraith had saved him. He had done his part.

Maybe he would even go back to using his real name again. For ten years, he had been a vengeful ghost stalking the shadows. Now he was ready to live again.

Wraith stumbled forward as the tunnel curved upward under his feet. He walked ahead into possibility with nothing but his broken body and the clothes on his back. He savored the feeling of the warm tunnel floor against his aching bare feet. With no chain binding him to the floor, he felt light enough that he was glad he was underground, because otherwise he might just float away.

The sudden impulse came over him to run down the length of the tunnel, whooping in delight, like the boy he had been with Gabriel before Earth had come. But he wasn’t that kid anymore. He carried the weight of the last ten years in his aching bones.

But the weight of it wasn’t heavy enough to hold him back. It was just heavy enough to bind him to this planet, to create a solid—if broken—foundation for whatever came next. So long as he was strong enough to claim it when it came.

And if he had been strong enough to hold out under Isadora’s torture, he was strong enough for anything.

He didn’t break into a run. He couldn’t pretend he was that carefree kid again. But he smiled and tilted his chin up as he faced the light of the exit ahead.

the end

---

Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper @tremendousenemyhideout @bloodinkandashes @whumplr-reader @whatiswhumpblog @delicateprincepaper @sunshiline-writes

#whump #whump writing #whump novel #whump story #my writing #my writing: Martyr #sci-fi whump #escape

[cupcakes-and-pain]

What are some of your favorite whump series?

My dear anon, there’s so many that I could not possibly count. But some off the top of my head are as follows.

Both Linden & Col and Tomas & Rowe by @whumpzone

Ash & Callum and Gabriel by @whumping-every-day

Jim & Kane by @whumpsday

Anything by @kim-poce but especially Full House and On The Ground

Blondie by @go-ahead-and-whump

Weapons Don’t Weep by @wolfeyedwitch (and all her other stuff but this is my favorite)

Blackmuir Reign by @deluxewhump

Riley by @morelikepainsley

Okay there are more that I can think of, but I’m tired. Remind me to add more in the morning. okay bye now.

#ask #anon #whump community #thanks for the ask!!

[mansplainmanipulatemalewife]

Anyone else tired of only ever finding destiel recs?

Here's a rec list made for all the great fics that get buried because they're not destiel. It's collaborative, so if you read anything particularly good feel free to send it my way; I'm not taking rpf, w* fics or destiel-centric fics but anything else is welcome.

Chromacity by @crossroads-consoul

Relationships: Sam Winchester/Gabriel, background Dean Winchester/Castiel

Tone: Plot-heavy, slow burn

Genre: Urban fantasy, crime thriller

Warnings: References to domestic abuse, drug use, organised crime, graphic descriptions of murder 

173, 315 words       🟨

Law student and closet psychic Sam Winchester gets sucked into a world of mystery and peril when he begins spending time with the nomadic P.I. who frequents his workplace.

The writing is great once the author has found their feet, but where this fic really excels is the worldbuilding. The pacing is phenomenal too, with the shorter serial killer storylines balancing out the very slow burn and gradual reveals about the world across the series.

Submitted by @mansplainmanipulatemalewife

----

Kidnapping, Car Thefts and Other Hazards of Dating by CrowleyLovesUSUK

Relationships: Sam Winchester/Gabriel, background Dean Winchester/Castiel

Tone: Comedic, high stakes

Genre: Human AU, crime thriller

Warnings: Kidnapping, arson, organised crime implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced torture, references to SA

79, 659 Words 🟥

When faking your own kidnapping, it's generally considered wise to avoid actually getting kidnapped in the process.

The characterisations of Cas and Gabriel especially are delightful in this one, managing to fit the tone and style of the AU without losing their authenticity, and the author does a fantastic job with keeping tension high while keeping everything lighthearted and witty.

Submitted by @mansplainmanipulatemalewife

----

Straight from the Heart (Marry Me) by @demonicsoulmates

Relationships: Dean Winchester/Gabriel

Tone: Fluff

Genre: Slice of life

Warnings: none <3

1216 words 🟨

A lazy Saturday.

This one's only short, but it manages that fluffy tone without feeling childish or saccharine, and does it without becoming ooc.

Submitted by @mansplainmanipulatemalewife

----

Some Things Never Change by Zana_Zira

Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Tone: Whump + comfort

Genre: Cannon complient, slice of life

Warnings: vomiting

4775 words 🟢

Sam falls ill for the first time since returning from Stanford, and it's bad.

The tone is spot-on for early spn, especially when it comes to the dialogue.

Submitted by @the-slythering-raven

----

Sweetshop Shenanigans by Aria_Lerendeair

Relationships: Sam Winchester/Gabriel

Tone: pre-smut

Genre: Human AU, meet-cute

Warnings: None

1051 Words 🟨

Sam gets his hot chocolate after a long day of college courtesy of an extremely flirtatious barrista.

Part of a longer and *spicier* series - strong characterisations and they have great chemistry.

Submitted by @emotionalsupportknife

----

All About Ramen by LiberAmens414

Relationships: Sam Winchester/Gabriel

Tone: Whump + comfort

Genre: Human AU

Warnings: Food insecurity, hunger, mental health issues

2484 Words 🟨

Sam weighs up whether or not it's worth fighting a stranger for the last pack of Ramen.

From a technical standpoint it's a very well-written fic, but what really stands out is the sense of compassion woven through it.

Submitted by @the-slythering-raven

----

Bad Faith by sheepishlion

Relationships: none

Tone: serious

Genre: case fic

Warnings: heavy discussion of bodily autonomy, guilt, character death, allusions to disordered eating and self harm

5851 words 🟢

Sam and Jimmy talk angelic posession

This whole fic is so hard-hitting you would not believe truly some unforgettable lines

Submitted by @mansplainmanipulatemalewife

#hopefully people will keep adding to this and we'll be able to separate it by length bc most of the stuff rn is once shots unfortunately #spn #supernatural #fic #i apologise for the fact its almost entirely about gabriel apparently he's popular with the people that actually wanted to get involved

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

To Tell You I Loved You

To Tell You I Loved You https://ift.tt/K8ISJ3w by CastielWinchester1314 Another Dean Whump Dean, Castiel, and Sam are captured by a crowd of monsters wanting to kill Dean. Words: 1181, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 10 of Hurt/Comfort Fanfics Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Gabriel (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Monsters, Werewolves, Temporary Character Death, Blood and Violence, angel grace, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Love Confessions, Angst, Hurt/Comfort via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' https://ift.tt/4EmJeFM October 10, 2023 at 11:11PM

#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' #Destiel #ao3feed #ao3feed Destiel #Destiel fanfic #Dean Winchester/Castiel #Castiel/Dean Winchester #Dean x Castiel #Castiel x Dean

[suspicious-pools-of-blood]

Tag Game

I was tagged by @i-can-even-burn-salad.

Favorite video game: I really like Oblivion and Assassin's Creed; I'll go with AC: Revelations, the third game in the Ezio trilogy. Broadly speaking I think the Ezio games are the best in the series (though I haven't yet played past AC3), but Revelations is set in İstanbul so it's way more fun for me because I can check out all the places I've been irl, and sometimes random characters yell at you in Turkish which is really funny to me now that I can understand them.

Favorite video game character: Yusuf from Revelations because he looks kind of like my brother lmao

Favorite movie or TV series: Shocking absolutely nobody who has ever looked at my main blog, Xena: Warrior Princess.

Favorite movie or TV series character: Xena herself, no question

Hobbies: leatherworking, writing, sketching, rock climbing

Obsessions: Have I mentioned Xena yet? Because whenever I'm not thinking about my OCs, I'm thinking about Xena.

Favorite genre/type of background music for whump daydreams: Usually I listen to specific songs/playlists for my OCs, since my whump daydreams tend to be about specific characters. Genre is kind of all over the place, but tends to be the type of music I would describe as "vibes" (which I'm aware does not narrow it down at all, especially given I probably have a different definition of vibing music than most).

Favorite whump trope: Ough I'm supposed to just pick one?! OK not necessarily my favorite, but one I like a lot, is whumpees whose trauma turns them into whumpers. Cycles of abuse and whatnot.

Favorite whump pairing: Edit: whoops forgot to answer this one. Uhhh can I put my own OCs? Because if so, Elvan and Asenath; more broadly though any pairing where one person gets hurt and the other person goes feral in response, be it out of defense or revenge.

First time you experienced whumperflies: That scene in Disney's Aladdin where Alaadin is in a prison cell with his wrists shackled to the wall above his head. I haven't seen that movie since I was a very little kid but that's the one scene that stuck in my mind haha

Favorite whump scene from a piece of media: A couple scenes jump to mind from Xena. The first is actually from the show Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, of which Xena: Warrior Princess is a spin-off. The episode is called "The Gauntlet" and is one of the episodes that introduces Xena as a character. As the title implies, the climax of the episode is when Xena's general overthrows her and takes her army, and her own soldiers make her run the gauntlet. Joseph LoDuca has my entire heart and soul for the soundtrack in that scene, and the direction is fuckin impeccable. The other scene is from season 6 of Xena's own show, an episode titled "Who's Gurkhan?" in which (for various plot reasons I won't get into here) Xena and Gabrielle both separately sell themselves into slavery to a sultan; Gabrielle tries to assassinate the sultan but Xena sees her about to go for him and knocks her out cold, stealing the knife, so that they would think it was her instead of Gabrielle; she also plays it off as if she was attacking Gabrielle out of jealousy, rather than there being any threat to the sultan. Anyway the relevant bit is that Xena gets taken to the dungeons and tortured at length, mostly just getting the absolute shit beat out of her, including while being hung upside down by shackles on her ankles. 10/10 incredible whump tbh, while there she also hallucinates Gabrielle bellydancing in front of her because that show is gay as all fuck.

A book you would recommend, whump or not: I would highly recommend the historical fiction Lady Slayers series by Lana Popović! There are two books (so far); Blood Countess, about Erzsébet Báthory, and Poison Priestess, about Catherine Monvoisin. They're overtly queer and very very well written (and decently whumpy tbh).

Add your own question: Favorite whump scene from a book?

I'm leaving this as an open tag as usual; if you want to do it, consider yourself tagged!

#Thanks for the tag!

[sapphire11]

NEW WIP List

Hey all! Yes, my WIP list has changed again and while I definitely have made much more progress on a couple of these than others, I am curious what is interesting to all of you. 

No guarantees on anything, because as I am sure you have figured out my brain often does its own thing in regards to motivation and interest, but often encouragement and excitement from others on projects really helps me continue through the tough times. 

Anyways!! Enough said ... see the list below and feel free to send me asks about any you are curious to know more about!

-Ali

AU

Tarlos Mystery AU

AU first meeting - “I’d rather give you mouth to mouth”

AU - Second time to be Charmed 

Fluff

3x04 ‘recovery fic’ with the team at the Tarlos loft

126 hang - “It’s been a long week”

Andrea Reyes series

Season ⅔ break - TK meets the extended Reyes family at Tia Lucy’s

TK tells Andrea and Gabriel about being an addict

Post 3x08 - the first time Andrea comes to visit TK after his mom’s death

Post 3x13 TK has a bad day and is out with Cooper when they run into Andrea

Whumptober

BTHB: Pushed from a moving vehicle

Whumptober - Shaking hands & Seizures (TK Whump - “Doc seriously, just do it”)

Whumptober - Hiding and injury & waking up disoriented

Whumptober - Caught in a storm & sleeping in shifts

Tagging: @chaotictarlos @malexsoulmates @noxsoulmate @bubblesandroses8 @ronensass @rangergurlgleek1211 @beautifulhigh @detective-giggles @buckybarnesalways 

#fic writing #my bthb stalking fic is almost ready to be posted so I'm looking for my next focus #I have plans for all of these #some more formed than others #oh and let me know if you want to be on my tag list for fic things

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

Choice

Choice

by sadisticallysmirking

Aziraphale chooses between Heaven and Hell.

  Febuwhump Day 26: Forced to Choose

Words: 304, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 26 of sadisticallysmirking's febuwhump2023

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley (mentioned)

Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Whump, Angst, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Hell is Terrible (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Abuse

From https://ift.tt/wul0z3P https://archiveofourown.org/works/45348826

#ao3feed ineffablehusbandz #ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #anthonyjcrowl

[jordanstrophe]

Love your work so much! You were kinda my gateway into the whump community 😬 I would legit chew my left hand off to get a Gabriel recapture arc👌

Oh thank you! That's really heartwarming to hear. Gabriel got quite a lot of recapture with his escape attempts throughout the series, but I like to think Walter slips an occasional letter under his door and snaps pictures of him through the window to frame later. You might get to keep your left hand, I'm sorry

#ask

[xviruserrorx]

Day 4 of @whumpmasinjuly

->Prompt: "Share a TV show, movie, story, or any media that gives you the whumperflies"

Tv shows

Hemlock Grove

Gotham

Hannibal

Vikings

Peaky Blinders

Movies

Saw franchise

The tortured 2010

The Final 2010

Comics

The Umbrella Academy by Gerard Way (I love these comics so much and there's some very good whump scenes in them!)

I don't know anymore whumpy comics so if anyone has recommendations please send them my way!

Manga/Anime (only 7 because I've been reading and watching manga/anime since i was like 6 soo this list could go on for a long time)

Tokyo ghoul:re (I never saw the anime adaptation!)

Magi series

Mirai Nikki

Another

Deadman Wonderland

Corpse Party

Blood - C

Novels

The Kindall K series by Renne Nielsen or otherwise know as @callaeidae3 on here! They do art as well which is just pure whump and the best but their writing is amazing! (I'm still not through the first book in the series but I love it so far!)

Fanfiction (I don't read fanfic when I'm actively writing in fandoms but ...)

Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels by UnityGhost (@unityghost)

30 one-shots of Sam Winchester/Gabriel from spn chocked full of angst and feels... It's amazing I highly recommend!

Art

All of @lemissingmask 's Not A Shade AU is just prime whumpness and it's both so beautiful and their art is amazing and I could go on all day about it!

Like I said above Callaeidae3 does amazing art and it a lot of it pertains to the Kindall K series which, may I add, is amazing... Art from the author themselves of a novel? Yeah it's just *chef's kiss*

[Masterlist]

~~~VirusError🌸

#whumpmas in july 2022 #day 4 #i really REALLY recommend all the users I mentioned they're all so talented and amazing and i wish i could have a quater of their talent

[notasapleasure]

Tag game

I got tagged by @batri-jopa, thank you! It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these :)

Favorite color: Always changing, but I tend to come back towards greens/purples/turquoises most often.

Currently reading: My reading brain is awol. I've been part-way through issue 32 of The White Review for about three months. I just can't relax into a book or even poems at the moment without the nagging sensation something's going to interrupt me/I need to go and do something else. Obviously I read every day for work and for editing fic, though.

Last song: Magnet - You Got the Power. I was making a folky playlist (by request of @stripedroseandsketchpads!) and had it pretty much done, then wondered if the band that did the Wicker Man soundtrack have other albums. They do, but it's pretty a different style and kind of generic.

Last series: I was re-watching Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries with mum, before then it was Shadow & Bone, if we're talking about last completed series. But I did also spend a day hungover and binge-watching season 2 of The Wine Show which is...actually really good?? I was watching for James Purefoy's fnar fnar comments but stayed for James Purefoy expertly rounding up bulls on Camargue horses and the camera operator's shots lingering on his smirking mouth. Unfortunately my trial subscription to that channel ran out, so no more educative TV for me.

Last movie: The Aeronauts. Good! I enjoyed it, Felicity Jones is excellent and it looked very pretty and somehow made a compelling narrative out of very little material, with good editing and use of flashbacks.

Spicy/Sweet/Savory: Savoury and spicy! Speaking of, it's ქართული საჭმელი night. Georgian food, my beloved: the perfect combination of rich comfort food (cheese and bread and dough and beans!) and subtle, delicious spices.

Currently working on: Ok, this is awkward but here is a list of drafts in my notes app that I have been picking at over the last few weeks...

ATWD: Inchoate (though I'm on a short break while I practice tightening up writing passage-of-time chapters)

ATWD/Lymond: The sort-of sequel to I Will Shake Mountains, which is actually the world's most niche crossover with a 1980s band AU of a book series about a genius depressive sixteenth-century mercenary nobleman. When I put it like that it sounds insane, I know, but basically what it is is Merab and Irakli in London encountering some rich and successful old queer artists in London and getting confidence and support from the meeting.

Lymond: The band AU characters celebrate Margaret Thatcher's downfall in a series (?20 or so?) of vignettes from the party, with an accompanying playlist. I stg @erinaceina it will be finished one day. Maybe even before Bojo fucks off, too!

Lymond: A follow-up to that Jerott and Danny canonverse 'one shot' I wrote. No I CAN'T just leave it as it is because they haven't kissed yet, don't you understand???

Lymond: band AU emotional/dynamic mediation whump with a side of UST, Jerott/Gabriel and the significance of Francis Crawford...

Also there’s WIPs that I also remembered existed and am kind of annoyed no-one's going to finish for me, because there's a lot to like there, but I need to learn the art of brevity. I might try using the plots/settings to challenge myself to write <1000 word summary fics. If there's any in particular anyone wants to see just shout at me and it might be more likely to happen... They're all Lymond, drafts from pre-pandemic times I believe.

Marthe takes Francis' place at the end of PiF and Jerott acts as caretaker for Francis as they pursue her and Guzel. Jerott and Francis come to...healthier terms with one another (aka oh just shag and get over yourselves boys).

Jerott turns up at St Mary's with a wound in need of care. Aka the old 'Jerott gets stabbed in the butt' fic. Francis as caretaker. Jerott and Philippa having a conversation that I remember thinking was very important at the time but now can't remember precisely what aspect of their shared trauma around Francis it concerned.

...there's a theme here. The 'St Sebastian fic' where Jerott gets shot full of arrows and admits something to Francis, thinking he's going to die. Francis goes on a Rampage.

Right now I've written the word 'Jerott' so many times I feel like a fool.

I'm going to go and make some Georgian food and think about what I've done. ^^'

Thank you for tagging me, @batri-jopa!! And thank you for all your beautiful ATWD art. I’ll be interested to know what you think of Wet Sand when you see it, too - I did not fall for it like I fell for ATWD, but I think it is an important step in (queer) Georgian cinema :)

Tagging anyone who wants to do this, but no pressure @stripedroseandsketchpads @erinaceina @notfromcold @kheldara @raelis1

#tag game #tag meme #i can't even write a short tag game post smh

[ao3feed-ladynoir]

Side Story: Siren

Side Story: Siren by Writing Like Ill Die

[Reccommencer Verse] After Marinette and Luka's birthdays, Adrien realizes who actually made his favorite scarf.

Words: 1179, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Recommencer and More

Fandoms: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Emilie Agreste, Original Miraculous Holder Character(s)

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Akumatized Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir is not the Black Cat, Bee Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Trans Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Pre-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, not season 4 compliant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Inspired by Persona 4, Whump, no one is having a good time in this least of all Adrien, Canonical Child Abuse, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth Bashing, Character Study, a deep look into the kind of environment adrien was raised in and how that fucks up a person, Childhood Trauma

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40846599

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Adrienette #💚 #💖 #❤️ #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #♥ #A:Writing Like Ill #Mental Illness

[whump-me]

Martyr, Chapter 16: No Reason, No Mercy

Chapter 16 of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: defiant whumpee, multiple whumpees, angry whumper, restraints, helplessness, forced to watch, begging, blood, broken bones, beaten to death (minor character)

---

Wraith

The hiss of the cell door sliding open woke Wraith from a restless sleep. He stirred, wincing as the movements jostled his hands, which were once again cuffed behind his back. A muscle in his shoulder had locked into an unnatural position after he had fallen asleep on the hard cell floor, half on his belly and half on his side. As he stirred, the muscle jerked awake, making him clench his teeth.

He had been dreaming of Gabriel. In his dream, Gabriel had held him the way he never had in the waking world. He had whispered in Wraith’s ear, his warm breath washing over Wraith like a summer breeze, as he told Wraith everything was going to be all right. The heat of his body had warmed Wraith’s own until Wraith could almost believe his words—until it was nearly impossible to believe anything could be wrong in the world.

Now all Wraith felt was cold.

The room filled with harsh light. Wraith’s eyes squeezed shut of their own accord as the bluish-white light seared into his eyeballs. He squinted them open a fraction at a time. It was brighter in here than the interrogation room, brighter than the center of the dome at midday. The bluish-white lights above his head turned everything into either a painfully bright white or the stark black of shadow.

Isadora stood silhouetted in the doorway. The light shimmered off her eyes, giving them an unreal glow. Her face was no longer the marble countenance of a goddess. It was twisted with an ugly fury—and something beyond fury. Whatever that something was, it filled her face with an inhuman light that had nothing to do with the cold illumination from above.

She stepped inside and motioned behind her. Two guards followed her in, once again dragging the same lank-haired prisoner between them. Against his will, Wraith’s eyes went to the prisoner’s face, where the line down his cheek had turned into an ugly scab. Then to his shoulder, where dried blood matted his shirt to his skin. Every time the guards jostled his shoulder, a tiny sound escaped him.

The door hissed shut. Isadora stared at Wraith like she wanted something from him.

She didn’t look real. She looked like the nightmare version of herself, beyond the anger she had shown before, beyond humanity. She was no longer a goddess. She was a devil, and the flames of hell flickered in her blue eyes.

Maybe she was a nightmare. Maybe this was all a nightmare, born of his guilt at letting the prisoner suffer. None of it looked real—not Isadora, not the cold harsh light. He struggled to his feet, stiff and wobbly from his hours sleeping on the floor. If it had been hours. The groggy haze hanging over his mind told him he had slept for a scant few minutes.

“What’s this about?” he croaked. “You couldn’t wait to see me again?”

Isadora crossed the distance between them in two long strides. She backhanded him so hard his head snapped to the side and he stumbled back. He rocked on his heel, couldn’t catch himself, fell hard on his side. He bit his lip to hold back a groan of pain.

Then she turned her back on him. As the expressionless guards held the prisoner in place, she pulled her fist back and punched the man hard in the face.

His nose broke with a crack that resounded through the bare cell. His pained yelp turned into a gurgle as blood rushed down his throat. More blood poured from his broken nose and onto his shirt, coating Isadora’s still-clenched fist.

Wraith’s gut clenched as tightly as Isadora’s white-knuckled fingers. He held his breath against the pain as he forced himself to a sitting position. “What, you’re not going to even bother to ask the question this time?”

Isadora glanced over her shoulder at him with those inhuman eyes. Maybe it was a trick of the harsh light, but she didn’t even look like she recognized him. Then, without saying a word, she turned back to the prisoner.

She hit him again. Wraith, from his position on the floor, couldn’t tell where the blow landed. He just saw the prisoner jerk against the hands holding him in place, and heard the long, low moan that emanated from his throat—half pain, despair. The sound didn’t have a chance to die away before Isadora hit him again. And again. And again.

She was eerily silent as her blows rained down. She didn’t so much as look at Wraith again—not when he cried out in wordless outrage, not when his chain clanked against the floor as he surged to his feet. She asked no questions. She just kept hitting.

These weren’t the deliberate movements of the day she had broken Wraith’s fingers—that precise, almost delicate touch. Even her viciousness yesterday, as she had driven the knife into the prisoner’s shoulder, had been tightly controlled. This was something else. She was a silent whirlwind of violence, pale hands striking out faster than Wraith’s eyes could follow, blood settling on her skin like a fine mist. If he hadn’t seen her as she had been before, he would have thought there was nothing human in her. She was an automaton. A force of nature.

The prisoner’s moans weakened and became rasping coughs, then strangled gasps. He sagged against the hands holding him, losing his footing. The guards held him up so Isadora could continue her assault. They both were carefully neutral non-expressions. But for a brief instant, Wraith caught one of them shoot the other a look of pure panic. The other returned the look before bringing his face back to safe neutrality. Wraith guessed this side of Isadora was new to them too—new and frightening.

A sharp pain in Wraith’s ankle brought his attention away from the prisoner and back to himself. Under the cuff, his bruise had split open. Dark blood trickled down his foot and onto the floor. It had broken open because he had been struggling against his chain. He hadn’t realized he was doing that. He looked down at himself, and saw his unbroken fingers clenched into a useless half-fist. Every muscle was taut as he strained uselessly for Isadora and her prisoner. The chain was too short. Isadora had carefully positioned herself so couldn’t reach her.

Even in whatever altered state she was in, every choice of hers was deliberate.

Wraith’s throat hurt like he had been gargling gravel. It felt like he had been screaming for hours. It felt like he had been screaming because he had been screaming. He could hear it now, the noises he was still making, useless shouts without words. Isadora wouldn’t even look at him.

She kept on going. Her breathing was uneven now, like she was in the middle of a hard workout. As her hands rained down on the prisoner’s chest, something snapped with a sharp crack. The man sagged forward, his head landing on his chest. Had he finally passed out? Good. But then the prisoner looked up through his hair with his one good eye. He was still conscious. He hadn’t even been granted that one small escape.

Isadora stepped back. At a signal from her, the guards let go of the prisoner’s arms. The man puddled to the floor like a discarded coat. His chest heaved. He let out a weak, rasping moan with every exhale.

It took Wraith a few seconds to realize he could hear the prisoner so well because he wasn’t screaming anymore.

He took a deep breath and found his voice. He forced himself to form words this time. “What do you want from me?”

Isadora spoke without looking at him. “I want you to watch.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It sounded like a feral animal’s snarl. It sounded like his own voice.

She kicked the prisoner in the center of the torso. He hit the wall, his limbs flopping like a rag doll. A sharp bolt of pain shot through Wraith’s ankle and he hit the cell floor face down, unable to catch himself with his cuffed hands. He hadn’t even realized he had lunged forward.

Another victory for Isadora. She had gotten a reaction from him. A few hours ago, he might have cared.

But she didn’t seem to care either. She didn’t so much as look at him. Only the guards had their eyes on him, their hands drifting to their weapons, like they were getting ready to subdue him if necessary. Not that it would become necessary. What did they think he was going to do? He couldn’t even cross the room. He couldn’t make it the scant couple of feet it would take to plant himself between Isadora and the prisoner she was beating to death for no apparent reason.

“I thought you wanted me to give a statement,” he said, his face pressed into the cold floor. He didn’t know how to begin to climb to his feet from the position he was in. He didn’t care. All he cared about was the next kick Isadora was aiming at the prisoner.

Isadora didn’t look at him. She didn’t answer.

“You said you wanted him as an incentive.” Wraith rolled over onto his side, suppressing a groan of pain. He jutted his elbow out and used it to push himself to a sitting position. From there, he forced himself up onto aching legs. The cuff dug deeper into his ankle, making the blood start flowing again. “So what do you want from me? Tell me. Just tell me.”

Isadora kicked the prisoner again. And then again. Something else in his body cracked. His chest was the wrong shape now, caved in where it shouldn’t have been. His good eye was half-open and glazed. Wraith couldn’t tell if the man was still conscious. He wasn’t sure it mattered, because the man couldn’t possibly last much longer.

If Isadora didn’t stop soon, she would kill him. That couldn’t be what she wanted, because what would that get her? He was no use to her as an incentive if he was dead.

But she kept on kicking him.

The guards looked on with stone faces. But while she was distracted, they shot each other another nervous look.

“Please,” Wraith gasped. The word tasted foul in his mouth, like a coating of puss and vomit on his tongue. Before he had let them catch him, when he was imagining what awaited him, he had vowed that whatever happened—whatever they did to him—he wouldn’t beg. He would scream eventually—that was a given. Maybe he would even cry, even though he couldn’t remember the last time he had cried. But he would not beg, and he would not betray Gabriel.

Now he had broken the first of those vows, and he didn’t even care.

Slowly, Isadora lowered her hands to her sides. She turned to face him. Her blood-flecked face showed an eerie calm. All except for her eyes, which were a stormy sea, the ice long since melted. They were twin whirlpools that threatened to suck him under.

The rest of her face remained perfectly still as her lips curved upward in a slow smile. There was no triumph in that smile. There was no victory. Beneath her unnaturally still mask, he saw desperation, and the madness of defeat.

Under any other circumstances, the sight would have warmed him all over. Now he couldn’t even keep looking at her. His eyes kept darting behind her, to the prisoner lying in front of the far wall, unmoving.

The man’s face was a ruin of blood and bruises—what Wraith could see of it behind his tangle of blood-matted hair. His half-closed eye stared at nothing. A bloody bubble expanded between his parted lips as he exhaled. His body was the wrong shape under the baggy clothes, his bones broken in half a dozen places that Wraith could see.

“What do you want from me?” Wraith asked again, his voice a ragged whisper.

“I told you. I want you to watch.” Isadora’s voice held the same eerie stillness as her face. The calm in the eye of the storm.

She turned away from him to face the prisoner again.

Fury made Wraith forget the wobble in his legs and the pain all down the front of his body where he had hit the floor. “And here you wanted me to think you were some noble crusader, doing what was necessary for the greater good. What about this is necessary? Where’s the good here?”

He couldn’t believe he had ever seen Gabriel in her. She wasn’t worthy to share the same planet as Gabriel, let alone have her name spoke in the same sentence as his. She was worse than Wraith, because at least Wraith knew what he was. And for all the blood on Wraith’s hands, he had never beaten someone to death just to… what? What did Isadora want from him?

“Well?” he challenged. “Where’s that crusader now?” His voice rose to a harsh shout. “I’ll tell you where. She never existed. You were pretending just as much as I was, only you didn’t know it. You really think that’s who you are, don’t you? So what will you tell yourself later about why this was necessary? What excuse will you give yourself about how you were doing what you had to do?”

A droning noise filled the room—first almost too low to hear, then louder and louder, until it buzzed in Wraith’s ears like a swarm of bees. It echoed off the walls, returning to his ears in half a dozen subtly different tones.

It wasn’t until the sound ended in a high animal shriek that he realized it was coming from her. Isadora was screaming.

The scream cut off with a harsh grunt as she drove her toes into the prisoner’s rib cage. The prisoner didn’t even react. He hit the wall, then flopped forward bonelessly. Isadora didn’t scream again. As her feet drove into the prisoner’s limp body again and again, the only screams that echoed off the walls were Wraith’s own.

“What do you want from me?”

Silence.

“What do you want?”

Silence.

And then he couldn’t form words anymore. All he could do was shout in helpless fury.

Helpless.

Wraith didn’t know how long the prisoner had been dead by the time Isadora stepped back, out of breath. “Take it away,” she ordered the guards in that same unfamiliar voice.

Without a word, the guards grabbed the body—one by the shoulders, one by the feet—and hauled it out of the cell between them. Isadora followed without a backward glance.

“Isadora!” Wraith yelled, his throat raw, as the door shut behind her. “Look at me! Isadora!”

The door closed. The lights shut off. He was alone.

---

Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper @tremendousenemyhideout @bloodinkandashes

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

#whump #whump writing #whump story #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Martyr #sci-fi whump #interrogation whump #character death #death whump

[asassydork]

Chapter 2: Rumor Has It

Story: High Water

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: Rumors are already spreading about the new one-eyed wonder that arrived into the compound. Things like this never go well.

TW: MDNI, 18+, we’re getting there, adult themes and language, whump content

He didn't follow after me but I felt his gaze on my back. He was already plotting his next move. He went with the other newcomers to the Quarantine Bay of the infirmary where he’ll likely spend the next week under close supervision. They have to be tested to prove they’re not biological warfare bombs being dropped upon us. The captives will also be in Quarantine but in isolation away from the others. Nothing more than dogs on leashes from this day forward. Bastian’s father, Gabriel, wasn’t going to kill them. They weren’t going to be spared that easily. The One-Eyed Captain should be joining them but I knew he wouldn’t. Not unless one of them chose to speak and by then, death would come for them. That’s how their culture works. It isn't rocket science by any means. They were simpler, more demonic creatures than the rest of us with a worse sense of community. Violence was all they’ve known. It was all they’d ever know.

So, I carried boxes into the warehouse and helped sort through what they managed to bring back. It was still odd to me having systems in place like this that work so smoothly. It didn’t require much work for this complex brain of mine to pull it all together. I was still just surprised that anybody agreed with me when I started doing it this way. It makes unloading accurate and quick. Everything has a container and a shelf. I also got first dibs on finding things. It gave me a little dopamine release. It also reminded me that I was no longer shopping for just myself. I had a prisoner to start accounting for and that involved making trades with the inventory that I often tried not to spend too much time thinking about.

Today’s take-aways were a wool blanket, some scrap wire (aka pieces under a foot long), an empty paint bucket, and an old plastic and burlap sack from the mostly untouched pile. It was a series of items that nobody was going to miss and half of which would easily be returned when I was done using them. If I’m ever done using them. The plan was simple and easy and discreet. Nobody who didn’t have to know would ever notice. It was foolproof and fed into my desire to make an example of him.

So, when we were done putting things away and went about the rest of our day, I went back to my shack in the woods, isolated from everyone else. I didn’t live within the compound walls for clear reason. I follow along with their rules but I find the woods a safer place. It was where I was originally placed when they didn’t know what to do with me. My rundown little shack was a staple of this place, making me look like the witch of the crew. I didn’t hate it but I didn’t love it. I just wanted to be left alone, which was in part where the gremlins in their magnitude came from. All of the forgotten children. The troublemakers. The little shits who didn’t take punishment or authority very well. They all seemed to find their way to me. It usually seems to happen when they’re preteens, around age 11. The social dynamics of this place require a lot of growth and they lay a lot of expectations on you. It’s the reason I do things differently. My little hideaway has become something of a communal ground for them to gather and take leadership from me. I give them life skills and they make sure nobody comes near my place. Bastian had to learn that one the hard way, especially when I boosted security. He’s started trading in weapons from time to time with the older kids who aren’t really kids anymore to be allowed around me. He also trades in luxury items that the rest of us can’t easily get our hands on like leather, milk and sweets. Privilege only gets him so far, though. He’s part of the problem and he doesn’t even want to admit it. It’s the reason I trade the kids more resourceful items once in a while for the things he gives them. Including turning a strip of leather meant to be a belt into a collar and decorating it myself. It was about to find a forever owner and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. It’s a whole system of respect, though. The kids come to me for the things their parents couldn’t give them and I’m not here to judge or punish them. Although, there are times when I’m forced to act and intervene.

But when you respect them as individuals and you guide their mischief, there’s growth to be found. Including handing off a bucket to a bunch of twelve year olds asking them to fill it with leeches from the creek. I have the girls a wicker basket and a few mason jars and had them go collect some tree sap and kindling materials like moss and thin grasses. I had the older boys help me put together a sound system to notify me when others were coming in compromise of finally helping them establish a place of their own within my small domain. A promise I’ve procrastinated on because of the amount of work truly required and the lack of privacy I know I’ll have at the end of the project. But it’s enough time that I’ll have my captive and some sense of dignity back. They set old rusty cans and some bottles in the trees connected to lines that would move if someone stepped on them and spread them out through the woods. By the time the boys came back with the leeches, the girls were back with plenty of sap to complete the most important part of my mission and everything seemed in place for what was coming. The boys had gone as far as to find a bucket of their own which they filled with frogs, poked holes in the lid and left on my back porch as an additive to my mission.

But duty calls once again as the sun began to set. I’m expected to help the others cook dinner and set it up for communal consumption, even when I haven’t eaten in front of others in a long time. We have our own community dinners out here, determined by whatever we’re feeling at the time. Sometimes it’s pasta dinners. Sometimes, it’s venison we caught ourselves. Sometimes, its fish the boys caught, deboned and skinned. Sometimes it’s soup made out of leftovers. Sometimes the girls make pies we can eat as a meal. Sometimes it’s just fruits and vegetables we harvest ourselves from the forest. It all depends on the contribution and the cooking involved. I’m a big fan of cutting out extra steps, which works both for them and for us because everyone having a specific role and contributing what they can is important to accountability and responsibility. They like feeling involved and contributing to the community and getting compliments on their skills being used appropriately. Skills the community doesn’t always see or know how to work with. It’s the reason we’ve managed to make this arrangement work.

Inside the compound, I’m just another familiar face at the distribution table. I’m on display for each of them to see and it’s been this way since I got here. It was also something they sort of forced me back into when I got out of captivity. The only benefit from any of it was that I don’t have to smile anymore. I don’t have to dress according to this idea that I’m ripe for the taking. I also don’t have to dress like a girl in any circumstance. I’m off the market as far as Bastian’s father, Gabriel is concerned. Whether or not I devote my life to motherhood or leave Bastian on a loose leash, I’m still expected to be his wife. If I don’t take the oath, I’m still accountable for Bastian. I’m the one he wants and that’s got nothing to do with my rejections of his proposals. I have no intentions of being bound to someone who doesn’t see me for what I am. But that doesn’t justify the One-Eyed Captain’s actions here today. It didn’t give him a leg up. It didn’t put him on my map. He was simply a means to an end and he wouldn’t survive the summer. He wouldn’t. He might not survive the month, in all honesty.

It wasn’t lost on me at dinner that Bastian knew what happened. Word spreads like wildfire around here and drama spreads even faster. The fact that someone had finally made a move on his claim was something he couldn’t think about. It was something we never really discussed because it never happened before. But he’s been seeing a whole slew of women in the compound and the neighboring town, seeking to plant his seed in any willing woman because whether it was my body or not didn’t totally matter to him. He wanted me for my spirit, for my wild nature. I was something to be tamed. It was the reason his father tolerated me as much as he did. But their dirty looks and dismissive grumblings as they gathered their dinner first as the royalty around here wasn’t something I could just ignore. I was never going to be one of them, even if Bastian managed to get me to take the oath. He’d probably end up with six wives if his father had anything to do with it. Polyamory was something people didn’t like talking about around here. Harems were more common than true relationships. It was all about babies, claims to supplies and land.

Bastian’s family gets their pick of the food. Then it’s the men of rank, since it’s obviously patriarchal. Then comes any women who’ve given birth, are pregnant and the children under age ten. This was how they were ranked. As if motherhood was the only way to earn a place at their table. After them were the rest of us, which were the single women who haven’t had children yet, any men who haven’t ranked yet, and the kids over ten. It’s more of a free for all by the time it gets to us. That’s why I stopped trying to fight for food. I don’t have time to eat what’s left because I deserve nice things. I could easily eat first with Bastian but I’d have to sacrifice almost all of my beliefs in order to do that and I’m just not there yet. I haven’t lost that much hope.

So, when everyone’s had their first servings, we begin cleaning up and combining what’s left so they can come around for seconds with everything in one place and nothing burning. It’s a way for those of us who cook and contribute to be able to eat in peace. But I usually just clean up my station and go home. I don’t eat with the others because I don’t put myself in uncomfortable situations where gossip can find me. I knew Bastian and I had things to work out considering everything that’s happened today but a kiss is a kiss, no matter the implications. But the stories weren’t going to be in my favor. It was likely spun to make me the villain. It was going to be used as a way to try to convince Bastian to find someone better. As if I haven’t already warned him about that a long time ago. Bastian was far from the love of my life but he was a warm body that didn’t ask very much of me in the ways of relationships because he knew better. If we were better suited for each other, things would be a lot different. But we’ll never be like that. His claim to me was what mostly got in the way of my autonomy and my sense of freedom.

#creative writing #story inspo #writeblr community #writeblr #apocalypse story #apocalyptic cult #high water #apocalypse cult era #cult era #far cry inspired #storytime #my writing #writing process #fiction writing #writing #cult wip #my wip fic #my wips #wip #current wip #work in progress #my story #my fiction #my ocs <3 #writers of tumblr #creative writers #write #writer community #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity