#it is not even the whumpiest one i have

[five-of-cr]

wylan textpost pt. 3

#i know #i am sorry for the ninth one #it is not even the whumpiest one i have #poor wylan :( #he deserves to be angry #six of crows #shadow and bone #crooked kingdom #sab #wylan van eck #wylan hendriks #incorrect grishaverse quotes #grishaverse incorrect quotes #incorrect grishaverse #grishaverse #incorrect crows #incorrect soc #incorrect six of crows #soc spinoff #soc

[whumpofalltime]

friends, enemies, lurkers, we've made it to the

Whump Of All Time Finals!

What's the whumpiest whump of all time? Help us decide!

Find links and propaganda under the cut. Quarterfinalist and later match-ups are untagged, so your votes and reblogs matter! Make sure you click through to the main blog to find the run-off poll to crown third place, as well!

ROTK:

(spider attack, rescue)

"The Lord of The Rings, when Frodo gets bitten by a giant spider and left for dead by Sam at the end of The Two Towers, and then when Sam finds him in The Return of the King being held prisoner and whipped by an orc."

The Young Blood Chronicles (Save Rock and Roll's music videos, Fall Out Boy):

(link)

"Everyone gets bloodied, bruised, beaten up, tortured, rescued, limbs are amputated - it's brutal. Alone Together is particularly strong."

sorry for being late, but you want YBC propaganda? then you're getting YBC propaganda. I know you're a FOB fan, but I will be writing this for the benefit of those who don't know what YBC is, for better propaganda purposes! and yeah this is gonna be LONG. sorry.

So! The Youngblood Chronicles (shortened to YBC) is a series of 11 music videos made by the band Fall Out Boy, for their album Save Rock And Roll (you know this album, it's the one with My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark on it). The whole thing is quite short, less than fifty minutes long (even shorter if you don't count the uncut version's credits!!), and every single music video has some element of whump in it. This propaganda is gonna break down each individual music vid, and at i'll also talk a little bit about the irl context the album was written in, and why even THAT can be a little bit whumpy if you're insane like me!

(note: i'm going in the original release order over the uncut order, hence why i'm starting with MSKWYDITD instead of The Phoenix)

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark: Arguably the least whump-y out of all of them, but man, seeing all of Fall Out Boy's discography and memorabilia be burnt while people are dancing around the destruction? Man, when you know the real life stuff (the reception the band had in 2009, leading to them to take a three year hiatus)... and at the end, you see four guys bound in the back of a van!! And that van is getting burnt!! Burn everything you love and burn the... ashes.

The Phoenix: NOW here's the first of MANY whump tastes you'll get. Patrick Stump, the singer/cutie of the band, gets kidnapped, tied to a chair, has his hand CHOPPED OFF and mailed to his bandmate/best friend Pete Wentz, then gets tied down and utterly tortured by women who are laughing at his misery the entire time, getting prodded and stabbed by tools for... well, you'll see. By the end of the video, Pete and the other two members of FOB (Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley) have been kidnapped by these mysterious women too, with Pete specifically getting kidnapped by the blonde woman he was in bed with when Patrick's hand got delivered to him. If you enjoy cute boys getting tied down, covered in blood, and writhing around like worms while getting tortured... well you'll enjoy all of YBC but specifically you'll enjoy this!! I did :D! The war is won, before it's begun, release the doves, surrender love...

Young Volcanoes: Good news, FOB has been reunited! Bad news, by the women who dismembered Patrick! And now all the band members are tied to chairs, hooked up to IVs full of god knows what types of drugs, and blindfolded (all except Patrick). They are then forced to drink, snort hard drugs, and are force fed Patrick's organs! Yep, all four of them are forced to eat their lead singer's guts, and are so fucking drugged up they don't even realize what's happening (and now you know what the women were doing to him in the last mv, and you even get a nice little shot of the hack job of stitching him back up)!! Patrick hallucinates everyone having fun, but of course, at the end, all of them are knocked out because of the drugs. Americana, exotica, do you wanna feel a little beautiful baby?

Alone Together: This is the song the OG propaganda mentioned, and for good reason. All four of them are shipped off into little personalized torture rooms, and, well, tortured! Pete is able to break out and even steals the hook from the girl who was torturing him, but little does he know that'll be his own undoing... also, in general, this song has some whumpy elements, specifically the line "my heart is like a stallion/they love it more when it's broke-in"... but notice how easy it is to hear "broke-in" as "broken"! At the end of the video, Pete is at least able to find Patrick (Joe and Andy have NOT been having a good time, either!! But sadly, they aren't found by Pete, but Pete DOES find Big Sean), and is even able to attach the hook to the stump (ha!) where his hand used to be. But something is clearly wrong with Patrick now. His eyes are yellow, and as the song ends, we hold on him, sneering and twitching. This is the road to ruin - and we're started at the end...

The Mighty Fall: First off if you say this is the worst song off of SRAR I will hunt you for sport. OKAY ANYWAYS, chronologically this comes after MSKWYDITD, and yeah, the four guys are the members of FOB. Pete is able to free himself with Patrick's new hook hand, and is able to get the other three out while Pete is hacking up a lung from the fire they just barely escaped. But they're not done getting their shit rocked yet. A gang of children show up (the leader being the kid Patrick waved at right before he was kidnapped back in the Phoenix MV), and proceed to separate them and beat the living shit out of them. The leader kid who's chasing Patrick plays something on a boombox... which triggers Patrick to go yellow-eyed again (from here on out i'll call it "going Youngblood" or "Youngblood self"). It was confirmed in the commentary track that ANY music would cause him to go Youngblood. And knowing Patrick IRL fucking loves to create/compose music... yeah! Take something he loves and turn it into something that drives him insane!! I'm normal!! And also the irl parallel you could draw to his solo career doing the same thing to him (on a less uh Dramatic level but you know)!!! Ouch!!!! Big Sean is able to save Patrick, but at the cost of his own life (and a killer rap verse... HELL YEAH I'M A DICK GIRL, ADDICTED TO YOU). Oh, how the mighty fall in love...

Just One Yesterday: The last vestiges of comfort you're gonna get for a WHILE. The four are separated, getting even more beaten up, Pete vomits up a snake, Andy gets his shit rocked by a homeless guy, Joe has to use white sheets as a makeshift tourniquet bc his leg got fucked up in The Mighty Fall MV, and Patrick is picked up by a kind stranger (hi Foxes! you have a very pretty voice! PLEASE KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL!). And finally, finally we get a hope spot. Fall Out Boy is reunited (the part where Andy just grabs onto Patrick's arm, in disbelief they're both alive... augh!!! AUGH!!!!), and for a moment, it seems they've been delivered to a hospital... before Foxes' eyes go completely black, looking at Patrick... and turns on the radio. She's able to trigger the Youngblood. And now Patrick is gone. The other three scramble into the hospital, Patrick not far behind, determined to kill them to stop the noise in his head. If Heaven's grief brings Hell's reign, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday...

Where Did The Party Go: Patrick, now fully consumed by the Youngblood brainwashing, is now stalking his bandmates in a hospital. Patrick is seeing visions of the hospital as an abandoned party, Andy has to painfully disinfect the wounds he's gotten, Pete is able to call for the police, and Joe... oh, poor Joe. He barricades himself into a room, but not well enough. Patrick finds him, and kills him, slitting his throat with the hook hand, showing no remorse at all... until Andy and Pete find them. The Youngblood wears off, and Patrick looks to what he's done, and is horrified at what he's done to his friend. And, bad news for him, the police are here, ready to arrest the murderer. All Andy and Pete can do is watch as tears roll down Patrick's eyes. And for the extra IRL context, this was the first song written for the album that made Pete and Patrick realize they had to get FOB back together... so lets match that with a music video where the member who helped get the band together in the first place dies. By the hands of the kid he found. Let's fade away together, one dream at a time...

Death Valley: Joe gets... uh, a little comfort? I mean, he thinks he's getting sent to heaven but goes to hell, buuuuut I think doing drugs in rock and roll hell with Tommy Lee is actually a pretty sweet deal, better than the deal the other three got! Pete and Andy are being interrogated while Patrick is in a jail cell. We find out that the cult that kidnapped them, Silence the Noise, is lead by Pete's girlfriend from WAAAAY back in the Phoenix MV, Courtney Love. And at the end of the MV... Patrick is bailed out of jail by Silence the Noise. They have him again. And this time, they're not gonna let him walk out until he's fully under their control. 'Cause tonight it's just fire alarms and losing you...

Rat a Tat: Silence the Noise has Patrick, and they utterly brainwash him, A Clockwork Orange style, with electroshock stimulation to keep him from looking away or closing his eyes, until there is nothing left. Patrick Stump does not exist anymore. Only the Youngblood, pliant under the control of Silence the Noise, tasked to destroy what he once loved; music. Andy dies at the hands of the cult, and now Pete has to protect a briefcase, the thing that got them into this mess, and keep it away from Silence the Noise, all while his best friend hunts him down. Are you ready for another bad poem?

Miss Missing You: THE WHUMPIEST OF THE WHUMP. What if we were best friends but you've been driven insane and I know the only way to stop you is to kill you and it was my fault you got into this mess and I was the one who gave you the weapon that will be my own undoing. What if we both died at the same time. What if we died, both of us failing the mission we had before us. What if that was a reference to one of their first music videos. What if this song was originally written for Patrick's solo album but he realized it was more of a Fall Out Boy song so it was scrapped until now. What if there's a legit argument to be made that half the lyrics for this song was written by Patrick. What if we were both boys. Grips walls, yeha i'm normal. If you don't watch ANY other music vid, watch Miss Missing You. Sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger. The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger.

Save Rock And Roll: And our final track gives us a final bit of comfort. Patrick is able to overcome the Youngblood, and gets into heaven, where all of FOB is finally, finally reunited. God (aka Elton John) gives them new instruments and brings them back to earth, so they can do what they love; play music together. Which just so happens to release people from the control of Silence the Noise! But, because we can't have nice things, a cult within Silence the Noise got a hold of the briefcase, and summoned a spirit that starts to kill everyone. FOB stands together, and blasts the evil spirit, the blood coming up to the gates of heaven and covering Elton John in it. And... that's how it ends. No true resolution. Just Elton John covered in blood, as the song fades out. Oh, no! Wherever I go, go! Trouble seems to follow! I only plugged in to save rock and roll!

UH. AGAIN I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LENGTH. but i really wanted to express just how much WHUMP they manage to fit into less than fifty minutes, all backed by an amazing album colored by the three years they were apart. colored by how they grew, colored by how bad the hiatus was for Patrick specifically, colored by how Confessions of a Pariah got Pete to reach out to help him, and this album came out of it, Fall Out Boy came back out of it, and now here we are, ten years later, with the title track being performed every night for their concert, with all the band singing the final lines together, and the line you are what you love, not who loves you hitting every single night.

SORRY. LISTEN TO FALL OUT BOY. thanks for letting me rant.

#final round #tournament poll

[whumpshaped]

whumpiest winter song ever i said i'd write something inspired by it so here it is

tw implied noncon drugging, betrayal

"I really can't stay," Whumpee said apologetically. "I'm sorry. This evening has been so very nice–"

"But look outside, dear." Whumper stepped towards the window, pulling the curtains aside. "You can't leave during the heaviest snowfall."

Whumpee's eyes flickered to the all-white landscape, then back to Whumper's face. Really, they were doing a horrible job of pretending to be concerned instead of delighted at the prospect that their guest might have to stay the night. Had Whumpee been any less in love, they might've done a better job of pretending to be offended by that.

"I have to, I do. My parents will be worried if I stay too long." Despite saying that, Whumpee stayed motionless as Whumper let go of the curtain and walked up to them, taking both their hands in their own.

"Your hands are already so cold. You wouldn't last a moment out there." Whumper rubbed the skin gently, their eyes never leaving Whumpee's. "I'm sure they'd understand if you stayed for just one more drink. Just until the storm settled."

"I shouldn't," they whispered.

"But you must. It's really not your fault, I'll tell them that myself if I have to."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Whumpee quickly yanked their hands out of Whumper's hold, and they weren't sure whether the heat they felt was coming from the cosy fireplace or something else entirely. "There's no way I'll let you explain anything to them! It'd look even worse!"

Whumper gave them a soft smile, then gestured towards the empty wine glasses on the table. "So? One more?"

"No, no, I can't. I can't." They turned around before they could change their mind, quickly putting on their hat. "I'll just call a cab, it'll be fine."

Whumper was behind them in an instant, pulling the hat right off before they could've grabbed onto it. "Not in this weather. I doubt they're even working."

Whumpee tried to snatch the hat away from them, but Whumper stepped away, hiding it behind their back. "What will the neighbours think?" they asked with a half-hearted show of anxiety. "It's so late–"

"They're likely asleep by now," Whumper said smoothly. "Just one more. I'm sure the storm will go away soon. Hm?"

Whumpee sighed heavily. Well, there was no way around it, they supposed. The storm really did look bad... "Just one more."

Whumper lit up instantly. They threw the hat on the sofa and walked over to the table, grabbing Whumpee's glass first. "You should put on some records while I pour. No sense in spending this awful, miserable extra time in silence."

"Why not make my captivity as pleasant as possible..." Whumpee mumbled, giving in easier than they should've. They could hear the glasses clinking and the wine sloshing as they looked through the record collection, eventually deciding on something slow and... well, not romantic, not really, it was just... pleasant, they were pleasant tunes.

"Good choice," Whumper remarked, and Whumpee didn't have to look to know they were smiling. They turned around with an exasperated look, but they didn't fight it when Whumper handed them the glass.

"I'm being way too lenient." They took a sip, then went to sit down before they could've been cornered. Whumper followed suit, settling on the sofa a touch too close to them for it to be considered polite. "I should be saying no to all of this."

"Just to hurt my pride?"

"So I don't give you the wrong idea."

Whumper gave them a sly smile. "I think my ideas are fine, thank you."

Whumpee took another sip, bigger this time. This heat creeping up their neck and spreading across their cheeks had to be coming from the fire, or maybe the damn drink. "Goodness, I can't even imagine what my sister must be thinking. And my brother! Oh, he must be standing watch by the door."

"A terrifying thought," they cooed, shifting in their seat and mysteriously ending up a couple inches closer to them than previously.

"And my aunt, too... She will never let this go," they babbled on, emptying their glass right after. Whumper watched with the look of a cat that got the cream. "She'll tell everyone, she'll start rumours..."

"Why abstain if people are going to gossip anyway?" Whumper reached out, and Whumpee stupidly thought they might caress their face or run their fingers through their hair — instead they just took the glass, skin brushing against skin as their touch lingered.

"It's not abstaining," they huffed. Distantly, they noted how Whumper's glass of wine seemed entirely untouched. "That implies a level of desire, doesn't it?"

Once the glasses were out of the way and on the table, Whumper sat back, leaving barely any distance between the two of them. "And you don't want this at all, of course," they said sarcastically.

"Not one bit," Whumpee confirmed, their eyes darting to Whumper's lips as soon as they leaned in.

"I'm truly just horrible, then."

#whump #whump drabble #implied noncon drugging #betrayal

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Arrows (Special Request) - Doc - Part 2

Part 2 of Arrow. If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved!

My dear friend loves the whumpiest of whumps... this is what I have provided. This chapter Hurts. Happy Birthday @arctrooper69!!!

Also: got a new Poll up for your thoughts! Should Doc Have Her Own Blog?

Warnings: Bone/joint injury, profanity, vomiting, heavy whump, medical procedures/language, needles

WC: 2,650

Only the occasional rumble of Wrecker’s voice marked the passage of time as my mind lapsed into a haze of pain and silent pleas and something not quite reality. I wanted him to stop – needed – him to stop, the words begging for just a moment’s reprieve filling my mouth and halting my already choppy breath, but if I had managed to force them into existence, I was too far gone to truly hear it. The growing guilt and fear tensing his shoulders and quickening his stride, however, left what logic flickered within me certain I had spoken them, screamed them as my body struggled against him even now, unable to keep still beneath the relentless hurt coursing through me.

I vaguely saw the way my fingers clawed atop his back plate, felt my uninjured leg strain to find purchase against his hip, his stomach, boot dragging over plastoid in a futile attempt to push myself free of him. My throat felt raw, burning at the very thought of attempting to speak even as cries of pain continued to catch on nearly every breath.

“… seen her hurt before!” He was shouting. “This ain’t just some…!” Fading in and out. “…am hurryin’!” I hated the note of fear in his voice, hated my inability to offer him even a whisper of reassurance as the sickening chill of panicked sweat soaked into my blacks, mind balking amidst the lingering uncertainty that the world was spinning madly around me.

“Wr-eck… please…” Stammered. Broken. As soon as the ruined semblance of my voice choked past the tortured flesh of my throat, I couldn’t say with any certainty that it had ever existed as anything more than one of countless half-formed thoughts flitting too quickly through my mind to find any meaning.

“..ry! Kriff, I’m s… -ost there, jus… on…” I remembered the distant fear that nights on this planet would bring with them a chill, that I should pack an extra blanket for Echo, just in case… but the merciless cold at war with the fire raging through my veins was inescapable. Cursing through gritted teeth, Wrecker came to a sharp halt, sending a shockwave of sickening motion rippling through me.

“…orry-sorry; jus’… argh, just hol…” I tried to focus, tried to find some reason behind the sudden stop. A light thump seemed to echo from somehow just below me followed by the telltale trill of a blaster firing, the shimmer of a blue ring just catching my attention from the corner of my eye, and then we were moving again.

It wasn’t until feeling their hands ease me from Wrecker’s shoulder that I even realized we’d finally reached the others, and I had to fight to hear them over the deafening boom of my heartbeat, the static screaming around me… screaming… I was… I was screaming. Their touch felt like acid. The suffocating humidity from my frantic gasps sat heavily within the too-small hollow of my bucket, rebreather overloaded from how long I’d been hyperventilating, from how long I’d been abusing my vocal cords with ceaseless, shouted pleas, but, body nearly convulsing beneath the fresh torture of nerves shrieking against even the most delicate caress, those too-quick huffs came even faster, chest fluttering in something closer to a tremble than actual breath as they lowered me onto the ground… no… it wasn’t soil beneath me… a cloth?

“..ong with her?!” Hunter demanded. My uninjured arm coiled at my side, fingers burring mindlessly into whatever bit of fabric they’d laid me down on, leg continuing some listless attempt to push me up, to move, to flee this agony.

“-ey, hey, hey; come on, Doc; you’ve got to stop moving.” Some blurred visage of Echo flashed before me.

“…uncertain. I’ll need… remove the proje… test for toxins.” Pressure… pushing against my back, pinning me firmly to the ground… Panic resurging in a rush, whatever broken sounds of hurt caught in my throat turned desperate, body straining to reach for the man before me despite the arm nearest him refusing to even twitch.

“I’m here; I’m right here.” Echo murmured, so nearly stifling the fear from his voice as he quickly caught my hand in his. Somewhere nearby, Wrecker and Crosshair were… arguing? Yelling about something… at something… I tried to look, but someone held my helmet still, tilting it just enough to expose my neck. The sting of the autoinjector should have been a familiar nuisance, but the nerves reacted as though the thin needles gouged through muscle and veins and bone, and shied from it with a barked cry of agony, certain I would find a river of blood pouring onto the ground if I could just convince my eyes to focus.

“..et worse… can’t wait…” Tech’s voice seemed to spin around me, lilting on some faltering orbit as the words fluctuated between near silent and deafening. Maker, my chest ached from the frantic racing of my heart. “…lp hold her… pull…” The weight shifted atop me as something tugged at my armor. The first jostle of my shoulder as they removed the bell sent a burst of white across my vision, stomach heaving against the sickening hurt and fire and wrong as something clicked against bone. My hand wrenched away from Echo to claw uselessly against the joint, body trying to curl onto its side despite that relentless weight holding me down.

“Don’t le… move her arm.” Something tightened around my elbow, locking the useless limb in place. I think I was still screaming. Begging them to let me go. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fight them. Every muscle lay taut, teeth clattering violently from the terrible tremor wrought from cold and panic and pain.

Only when the wretched thing piercing my shoulder began to move, did I fall silent, throat locking shut in those first few seconds, the entirety of my existence too overwhelmed with that deathly wrong hurt to remember anything else. With a sickening hyperfocus, I felt every shift, felt the faint tremble from how his hands shook, felt the tiny twists as he worked to ease it free without furthering the damage or severing a tendon.

For just those for first few seconds, no sound could escape me, but then the trance broke, and I couldn’t remember how to stop as air I didn’t know my lungs still possessed tore from me in a sound I could barely hear over the static blaring in my ears. I don’t know when the thing finally came free, the vague awareness of Tech calling Echo’s name more akin to a near forgotten dream than reality before a new pressure burr down against the wound.

“Why … still awake?!”

“ …’t know, but …”

The weight shifted atop me, centering over my hips as their voices pulsed in a nauseating dysrhythmia. Hands tightened around my thigh like a vise and, before I could more than gasp at the terror of what was to come, something else settled over my calf, trapping my leg between them.

“-on’t look, Doc,” I didn’t even realize my head had been trying to twist enough to see them, movements halting and unsteady, until Echo’s words rumbled through my helm’s speakers. If he said something else, I couldn’t hear it as Tech began prying the second projectile from my knee. My back snapped up, body thrashing in a futile attempt to unseat them.

The pressure against my shoulder faltered slightly amidst a tiny grunt of pain, just audible above the frenzy of orders being shouted between the others, but my entire focus locked on it. The guilt that twisted through my chest was crippling as I quickly wrenched my hand back, unaware when it had lashed out for something, anything, and found only Echo’s thigh, fingers clenching ruthlessly around the muscle just above his prosthetic.

“Kriff, no-no, it’s okay.” I think he called my name, offered some manner of gentle reassurance, but that brief flash of lucidity was already overwhelmed by the deathly cold slicing into my knee, the certainty that they were cutting through the joint entirely as fumbled pleas tangled once more atop my tongue between the feral keening my screams receded into.

“Tech, yuh … -thing for the pai…” Wrecker was shouting.

“I – ng – I have!” He snapped, and even I could hear the struggle in his voice. “Hunter, hold h…”

“I am!” There was no relief when it finally came free, when the notches of whatever stone was lashed to the tip of that slender shaft broke through cartilage and tissue alike before slipping out from the ruined joint, nerves still aflame in the echo of that agony.

“Need to flush… try to… -oxins…”

Crosshair’s rifle fired twice, followed by a shrill cry from somewhere in the distance.

“More incoming.” There was a sharpness to his words I wasn’t used to. I wanted to see him, to understand why, but I couldn’t move beyond the way my body shook. Something pressed into the wound, stretching torn flesh before forcing liquid into the joint. My torso bucked, writhing against the cold and pressure and Maker, why wouldn’t it stop.

When the same hurt poured into my shoulder, I couldn’t hold back the gag, stomach convulsing as my body seized. Someone cursed and wrenched my bucket off. I didn’t notice the way he paused, didn’t see who dragged the wet gauze over my cheek to clean away the remnants of sick.

“Wh… what the kriff is …” I understood the horror in his voice more than the words, and fought to search for him amidst the churning colors… Echo… Confused, I belatedly realized he wasn’t looking at me so much as my face; my skin. “Tech, what is-”

“Think they want their friend back.” Wrecker called out through an audible scowl.

“Later – we need to move!” Hunter yelled over him. The rapid chirping of a heavy repeater joined Crosshair’s rifle.

“Too bad,” He growled, “That thing’s coming with us.” The cloth shifted beneath me, hugging my form as it began to rise. A stretcher… that’s what they’d laid me down on. Echo and Tech stood at my shoulders while Hunter took the position at my feet. I could still hear Crosshair and Wrecker firing rapidly behind us as we fled.

Every pounding footfall sent tiny percussions rippling through me, but my throat was too raw for anything more than a tortured wheeze. Muscles in my forearm, my thigh, stretching down my back began to lock, too exhausted to make sense of the continued abuse from how violently I trembled. Couldn’t unclench my hand… couldn’t breathe as I merely waited for my spine to cave; waited for that inevitable snap that never came.

“Everybody in! Get the ramp closed!” Hunter’s order boomed. The darkness of the Marauder’s halls granted a comfort at least in its familiarity. Home. This ship was home. Nearly the instant I was lowered onto my bunk, the faint hum of a scanner loomed over me.

“The toxin is blocking acetylcholine uptake as well as a few other autonomic functions,” Tech stated.

“What?!” Hunter barked. Someone’s hand rested over mine, but I couldn’t force my fingers to loosen enough to return that touch.

““It’s preventing her nervous system from self-regulating; she can’t moderate her heartbeat or”

“I heard what you said – what the hell can we do about it?!” He interrupted sharply.

“I… I d…” I could hear how desperately he fought against voicing the answer, how he balked at what it meant.

“Dank farrik!” It was such a rare thing to hear that kind of anger in Hunter’s voice; that fear. Knowing I was the cause sent a fresh surge of guilt twisting through me. “Is that thing awake yet?!” Silence followed by another sharp curse. Something shifted near the IV I hadn't noticed them place in my hand, and I vaguely noted Tech shuffling beside me.

“What was that?” Echo asked, not trying to hide the depth of sadness stealing through him.

“Beta blockers – I don’t know how to cure her, but I can try to treat the most dangerous symptoms.” He answered. A moment later, the daggers of the autoinjector tore into my uninjured shoulder. Despite how my breath caught, nearly hissing through clenched teeth, my throat was simply too raw to form anything near to the scream vying to escape.

“That was the same neural inhibitor she used for me.” He offered without waiting for the coming inquiry. “If her fever gets worse, there are more medications to try, but without knowing exactly what this toxin is, I can’t anticipate how it will interact with them. Until the need is urgent, that is all we should give her for now.”

The muscles in my arm were the first to respond, fingers slowly beginning to uncurl, and Echo’s small gasp held a hope I still couldn’t bring myself to feel. Fire continued to pour from the wounds, rippling through me with each beat of my still racing heart even as that terrible cold forced an occasional tremor from muscles long since driven past the point of utter exhaustion, but I could see… Thoughts once too frayed to grasp now lingered almost long enough to hold, and, as my eyes flickered listlessly before me, I managed to meet Echo’s gaze long enough for him to let out a sigh of relief.

Another touch settled atop my other hand, the sensation strangely numb in a way I would allow myself to worry over later. Gaze shifting wearily, I saw the anxious dread just twisting Tech’s normally sedate expression, saw how the fingers of his other hand tapped nervously against his thigh.

“Hey,” he sighed, thumb dragging softly over the back of my hand. “That stuff helping?” I couldn’t begin to answer him, eyes merely closing as my chest bucked in a weak sob. “Oh, cyare.” The heartbreak in his quiet whisper threatened to break me. When I forced my eyes open once more, straining to find him in the dim light, I ached at the defeated slump to his shoulders, the deep worry in the subtle downturn of his lips.

“I am doing what I can to chemically negate the effects of the toxin, but…” Desperate to ease his frenzy I forced my jaw to move, forced my shredded vocal cords to catch the huffs of air fleeing me in still too-quick huffs. “I would advise against trying to speak. I suspect you’ve damaged-”

“I…it,” I knew what he was going to say, but I didn’t care…. I needed him to know that his efforts hadn’t been worthless. “It… h-helped.” His eyes widened, and the rush of relief that swept through him was worth the razors clawing down my throat.

“Was that,” Hunter’s question died the instant he came back into the room, attention instantly locking on me, and the way he breathed my name still managed to send a tiny thrill down my spine as he quickly approached the bed. “We’re going to get you fixed up. Alright? You just need to hang on.” It wanted to be an order, but the threat of desperation in his voice rendered it into a plea. I tried to respond, lips barely managing to twitch around words my lungs and throat simply couldn’t manage.

“Hey, no-no; none of that.” He said quickly, hand reaching out to settle atop my shin. “Just breathe… okay?” It took a moment to convince the muscles in my neck to move, but I gave a small nod in reply. Hunter’s gaze suddenly turned pointedly toward the main hall of the Marauder, expression darkening.

“Tech. It’s waking up.” Before Crosshair even finished speaking, all trace of doubt fled the distraught man before me, shoulders stiffening as his jaw went taut, brows furrowing over suddenly sharp eyes as he turned toward the medbay door.

“If it has a language, I’ll decode it. They must have an antidote.”

Next Chapter

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[whumpsday]

Whumpmas in July #4

Share a TV show, movie, or any media that gives you the whumperflies! (Feel free to go off about your favorite episodes/moments!)

last year i shared the Black Mirror episode USS Callister for this prompt, which i recently rewatched, still highly recommend that!

so i'm actually a massive anime fan, and today i'm going to recommend TWO of my favorite whumpy anime! (because i couldn't decide which to go with lol)

The Case Study of Vanitas

i've mentioned this a few times before on this blog, but this vampire anime was a major inspiration for my series, Kane & Jim. Bellamy is heavily inspired by the main character Noè. The Case Study of Vanitas takes place in steampunk 1800s France, and it's about an unhinged human man, Vanitas, who acts as a doctor to cursed vampires: a curse that makes them go feral with bloodlust. as well as his partner Noè, a kind and idealistic vampire (pictured above).

this anime has a good balance of drama and comedy, but when it gets serious, it really gets serious. the whump and angst in here is off the charts. everyone has a tragic backstory, with Vanitas's involving being tortured as a human experiment. the vampires are certainly not exempt from this either. highly recommend this one if you want some good vampire whump! it's on hulu, crunchyroll, and funimation.

my favorite scene from this one is actually one of the less-whumpy ones. Noè is attacked by a vampire hunter, promptly kicks the hunter's ass, politely introduces himself, and asks to be friends. when the vampire hunter agrees, Noè starts crying from joy. he's so cute. my favorite vampire character of all time.

content warnings for the show: minor whump in a flashback episode about Vanitas's tragic past, heavily sexualized blood-drinking.

Re:Zero

this one is probably the whumpiest anime i know. it's an isekai, where our boy has been transported from the real world to a fantasy world. but instead of fun adventures, he gets heaps and heaps of trauma!

Subaru is a really interesting protagonist. he starts off like your typical isekai protag who thinks he's gonna be the hero and get the girl, but reality smacks him in the face and he really grows as a character. he has exactly one special ability, and it's a doozy: he can't die. every time he dies, he wakes up at some previous point before his death and gets a redo. this obviously results in countless violent deaths and immense amounts of psychological trauma. you can see him pictured above having a little breakdown about it. that happens a lot, especially considering he's also cursed to be unable to tell anyone.

the one thing i would say i dislike about this anime are the female character designs, which kind of suck. but the plot is great, character development is EXCELLENT, can't wait for season 3! Re:Zero is only available on crunchyroll and wherever you pirate anime.

my favorite scene is the one where subaru finally meets someone his curse will let him talk to about his immortality and he breaks down crying with relief. this is actually great to watch by itself even if you haven't seen the show, poor Subaru...

content warnings for the show: minor whump (Subaru is 17 in season 1 and several children die offscreen in doomed timelines), gore, multiple suicides (temporary due to the nature of Subaru's immortality)

@whumpmasinjuly

#whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day4

[malectober]

Happy Valentine's folks!!

Or, more accurately, happy Malectine's!!! (I propose changing the official name to Malectine's Day. What's better, naming a holiday for romantic love after a hateful bigot who got none anyways or after Mr. Lovey-Doveys?)((By hateful bigot, I mean Valentine Morgenstern ofc. I'm sure St. Valentines was a delight))

Ehem. Anyway. I have decided to host a teeny tiny little Malec event this Valentines. Sponsored by a lil bit of time from my finals study sessions.

(I'm getting paid in sanity, not money btw)

((please help me NOT lose my sanity during finals, which, funnily, start the day after Valentines))

(((My only date for Valentines is, unfortunately, biochemistry. I'd really appreciate seeing some proper lovely chemistry that day instead of the kind that sucks my soul dry)))

((((okay I'll stop rambling now))))

Anyways. *clears throat* *dramatic flourish which Magnus would approve of*

Introducing the Malectine's Roulette Challenge!!

In this challenge, you're gonna spin a (virtual)

Now, here's how you can participate:

Step 1: Have a tumblr account (Ao3 account is optional)

Step 2: Spin the virtual roulette here to get a prompt!! There’s 7 prompts, each of which is from the Valentine’s week list thingy.

Step 3: Take your prompt and go wild with it!!

Step 4: On Valentine’s Day, post whatever you created here on tumblr (and if it’s a fic, in the Ao3 collection which I’ll link below) and tag @malectober so I can reblog it here!!

Now, before you go all spinning about, here’s a few ground rules and other information:

Please don’t spin more than once 🥺👉👈 The whole point of the challenge is to, well, challenge yourself. Make the best of what prompt you get. It wouldn’t really be a challenge if you kept spinning till you got the prompt you wanted. (However, if you’re racking your brain and still unable to come up with a good idea, you may have a second spin behind my back). Now, I won’t know if anyone spins multiple times, of course, that’s between you and your internet, buuut that also means it’s up to you to keep the challenge authentic.

You can do anything!! Art, fic, edits, playlists, you name it!!

Interested in the challenge but not really a malec fan? That’s fine! Take a spin anyway and go for it, but you don’t have to tag me.

Nsfw content is allowed, as long as it is put under a cut (Read more)

Speaking of which, any and all content is allowed!! Even if it’s the goriest darkest whumpiest content a human can possibly make. Just make sure to add any appropriate TWs to the beginning, and in case of particularly graphic/triggering content, put it under a cut!

For fic, there’s no word count limits, minimum or maximum. You could submit in one single word for a fic and I’ll still accept it!!

You may tag your work with “#malectine’s day” and “#malectine’s 2023”. But do tag this account within the post so I can notice it and reblog!!

I know I’m calling it a challenge, but there’s no reward or winners or anything. The true treasure is the malec content y’all will create, plus some of that sweet sweet validation.

Most importantly, do not, I repeat, DO NOT hate on any of the participants or content submitted.

That said, enjoy the challenge!!

Again, here’s the link to the roulette (Please let me know in case either of the links don’t work)

And here’s the link to the Ao3 Collection

Lastly, just for funsies, here’s a poll

#Malectine’s day #Malectine’s 2023 #Malectine’s day 2023 #malec #tsc #tmi #tec #shadowhunters #shtv

[whumpily-ever-after]

Whumpy Book List 2

Welcome to my second whumpy book list. This list has been a long time coming. I read a lot but most of the books I read recently had no whump in them. I finally feel like I have enough books to make this list!

I always welcome whumpy book recommendations and/or suggestions. Please feel free to send any whumpy books my way.

List below the cut...

Winter’s Orbit by Everina Maxwell

Summary: “While the Iskat Empire has long dominated the system through treaties and political alliances, several planets, including Thea, have begun to chafe under Iskat's rule. When tragedy befalls Imperial Prince Taam, his Thean widower, Jainan, is rushed into an arranged marriage with Taam's cousin, the disreputable Kiem, in a bid to keep the rising hostilities between the two worlds under control. But when it comes to light that Prince Taam's death may not have been an accident, and that Jainan himself may be a suspect, the unlikely pair must overcome their misgivings and learn to trust one another as they navigate the perils of the Iskat court, try to solve a murder, and prevent an interplanetary war... all while dealing with their growing feelings for each other.”

Whump tropes: Not the whumpiest book out there, but about half-way through there is a decent hypothermia scene, attempted brainwashing also occurs in the second half of the book

Legion: The Many Lives of Stephen Leeds by Brandon Sanderson

Summary: “Stephen Leeds is perfectly sane. It’s his hallucinations who are mad.

A genius of unrivaled aptitude, Stephen can learn any new skill, vocation, or art in a matter of hours. However, to contain all of this, his mind creates hallucinatory people—Stephen calls them aspects—to hold and manifest the information. Wherever he goes, he is joined by a team of imaginary experts to give advice, interpretstion, and explanation. He uses them to solve problems…for a price.

His brain is getting a little crowded and the aspects have a tendency of taking on lives of their own. When a company hires him to recover stolen property—a camera that can allegedly take pictures of the past—Stephen finds himself in an adventure crossing oceans and fighting terrorists. What he discovers may upend the foundation of three major world religions—and, perhaps, give him a vital clue into the true nature of his aspects.”

Note: This book consists of three (3) short stories about Stephen Leeds and the personalities in his head. I don’t remember all of the whump tropes in these stories, but I remember that the third story, “Lies of the Beholder,” had the most whump.

Whump tropes: From what I remember it includes being trapped in a facility and the main character’s “aspects” are forcibly (and possibly painfully) taken away from him.

Guardian by Priest

Summary: “The Special Investigations Unit is a covert organization that no-one in the city knows about, dedicated to investigating bizarre occurrences beyond the comprehension of the living. The Chief Zhao Yunlan isn’t a simple guy either, being the inheritor of the Guardian order, he has always been a righteous conformist, excelling between realms of the living and the dead. While investigating a school suicide case, Zhao is attracted to the calm and reserved Professor Shen Wei, but the Professor seems to be rather fickle towards him…”

Whump tropes: Angst, hurt/comfort, sick character, there is so much more, but I am drawing a blank at the moment

Note: I read a fan translation of this book on the interwebs but I believe it will be available for purchase (in the US) sometime this year.

A Strange and Stubborn Endurance (The Tithenai Chronicles #1) by Foz Meadows

Summary: “Velasin vin Aaro never planned to marry at all, let alone a girl from neighboring Tithena. When an ugly confrontation reveals his preference for men, Vel fears he’s ruined the diplomatic union before it can even begin. But while his family is ready to disown him, the Tithenai envoy has a different solution: for Vel to marry his former intended’s brother instead. Caethari Aeduria always knew he might end up in a political marriage, but his sudden betrothal to a man from Ralia, where such relationships are forbidden, comes as a shock. With an unknown faction willing to kill to end their new alliance, Vel and Cae have no choice but to trust each other. Survival is one thing, but love – as both will learn – is quite another.”

Whump tropes: Arrow wounds, magical exhaustion, betrayal, captured characters

Note: Heed the warnings for this book!

Rescued by the Married Monster Hunters by Ennis Rook Bashe

Summary: “Vessel is a monster living in a dimension-hopping dungeon where his only solace is mercy-killing human prisoners. When one of these prisoners leaves Vessel a diary about his life as a monster hunter, Vessel imagines a new future for himself and takes on a human identity in an attempt to survive. Rescued by married monster hunters, Rhys and Sera, Vessel quickly finds himself overwhelmed by his secret, by the demands of pretending to be human, and by the intensity of falling unexpectedly in love with the pair. But if Rhys and Sera find out the truth, Vessel knows heartbreak won’t be the worst thing he’ll face… This book features a trans character in a setting where being trans is no big deal, badass disabled monster hunters, an enormous gruff swordsman who would do anything for his adorable bard, a back brace that doubles as armor, and a soft bisexual eldritch abomination learning what love really is. Please note, this book contains discussions of assault, cissexism, body horror, and violence.”

Whump tropes: Chronic pain, torture, monster/nonhuman whump, conditioned Whumpee, hands-on magical healing

Note: I have not read this book myself but it looks to be plenty whumpy!

The Starless Crown by James Rollins

Summary: “A gifted student foretells an apocalypse. Her reward is a sentence of death.

Fleeing into the unknown she is drawn into a team of outcasts: A broken soldier, who once again takes up the weapons he’s forbidden to wield and carves a trail back home. A drunken prince, who steps out from his beloved brother’s shadow and claims a purpose of his own. An imprisoned thief, who escapes the crushing dark and discovers a gleaming artifact- one that will ignite a power struggle across the globe.

On the run, hunted by enemies old and new, they must learn to trust each other in order to survive in a world evolved in strange, beautiful, and deadly ways, and uncover ancient secrets that hold the key to their salvation. But with each passing moment, doom draws closer. Who will claim the starless crown?”

Whump tropes: Attempted kidnapping, trapped in a dark mine with no light while bound at the ankles, betrayal

Antrax by Terry Brooks

Summary: “Brave explorers led by the last Druid, Walker Boh, traveled across unknown seas in search of an elusive magic. But now it seems that Walker and his team were lured there for sinister, unforeseen purposes. As the crew aboard the airship Jerle Shannara is being attacked by evil forces, the Druid’s protégé, Bek Rowe, and his companions are being pursued by the mysterious Ilse Witch. Meanwhile, Walker is alone, caught in a dark maze beneath the ruined city of Castledown, stalked by a hungry, unseen enemy. It is alive, but not human, coveting the magic of Druids, elves, even the Ilse Witch. It hunts men for its own designs. It is Antrax: a spirit that feeds off enchantment and traps the souls of men. And with it, the fate of the Four Lands hangs in the balance.”

Whump tropes: Captivity, voice stolen, chased, dramatic rescue

Note: This is the second book in a series. But it has one of my most re-read whump scenes that I couldn't resist including it.

Note: The next two entries have teenage (minor) whumpees. If this is not your thing, stop reading here.

The Extraordinaries Series by T.J. Klune

Summary: "Nick Bell? Not extraordinary. But being the most popular fanfiction writer in the Extraordinaries fandom is a superpower, right? After a chance encounter with Shadow Star, Nova City’s mightiest hero (and Nick’s biggest crush), Nick sets out to make himself extraordinary. And he’ll do it with or without the reluctant help of Seth Gray, Nick’s best friend (and maybe the love of his life).”

Whump tropes: Kidnapping, emotional whump, betrayal

Fragile Remedy by Maria Ingrande Mora

Summary: “Sixteen-year-old Nate is a GEM – Genetically Engineered Medi-tissue created by the scientists of Gathos City as a cure for the elite from the fatal lung rot ravaging the population. As a child, he was smuggled out of the laboratory where he was held captive and into the Withers – a quarantined, lawless region. Nate manages to survive by using his engineering skills to become a Tinker, fixing broken tech in exchange for food or a safe place to sleep. When he meets Reed, a kind and fiercely protective boy that makes his heart race, and his misfit gang of scavengers, Nate finds the family he’s always longed for – even if he can’t risk telling them what he is.

But Gathos created a genetic failsafe in their GEMs – a flaw that causes their health to rapidly deteriorate as they age unless they are regularly dosed with medication controlled by Gathos City. As Nate’s health declines, his hard-won freedom is put in jeopardy. Violence erupts across the Withers, his illegal supply of medicine is cut off, and a vicious attack on Reed threatens to expose his secret. With time running out, Nate is left with only two options: work for a shadowy terrorist organization that has the means to keep him alive, or stay – and die – with the boy he loves.”

Whump tropes: I have not been able to get my hands on this book, so I don't know the exact tropes. But the summary makes it sound pretty whumpy.

#books #whump books #whumpy books #book list #whumpy book list

[whumpcereal]

behavior modification, part eight

<previous, masterlist here!

taglist: @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @aut0psy-s, @reflected-pain, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

content warnings for: CSA mention (very veiled, but still), adult language, creepy/intimate whumper, cages, restraints, muzzles, discussions of past abuse, and implied future noncon

This isn't the whumpiest chapter (although there's a good bit at the end), but all you Jack + Joe 4EVA people will like it.

part eight, past, present, & future

“Jackie?” 

Jack doesn’t answer. He feels like someone’s taken a spoon and scooped out his guts. He’s empty. Hollow. Because he’s dumped it all on Joe. 

He shouldn’t have said anything. It was a bad idea. Joe won’t understand. How could he? Jack squeezes his eyes shut. What Bill did to him–what Jack let other people do after–

He doesn’t want to see the way that Joe looks at him now that he knows. 

Joe takes a shaky breath. “Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with that, I mean.” 

Jesus Christ. Joe isn’t supposed to thank him. Not for this. 

Joe reaches for him, and Jack can’t help but flinch away. He doesn’t mean to. It’s only that things are blurry just now. It’s hard to know the difference between now and then. 

Joe pulls away. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I won’t touch you. Not if you don’t want me to.” 

It makes Jack feel worse.  Because he does want Joe to touch him, but he doesn’t know how to ask. No one’s ever let him ask. He draws his knees to his chest and hides his face. He knows he’s behaving like a child, that Joe is probably losing patience, but he can’t help it. It’s not like Joe is going to stay with him now anyway. 

“It isn’t fair to you,” Jack whispers. 

He feels Joe’s hand move toward him again, but it never makes contact. Joe’s weight shifts beside him. 

He’s going to leave. Jack knows it. 

But he doesn’t. “What’s not fair, baby?” Joe asks, his voice soft and careful. 

“You should be able to touch me!” 

Joe pushes a slow breath from his nose. “Not when you don’t want me to, Jackie. No one gets to touch you unless you say so.” 

Jack laughs. That isn’t true. It’s never been true. 

“That’s bullshit,” he says. “What kind of relationship is that?” 

“The kind that’s based on mutual respect,” Joe counters, and he doesn’t sound angry. Just sad. 

Jack rubs his forehead against the knees of his jeans. “Doesn’t it make you mad? That I can’t–that I’m–” 

“Do you want it to make me mad, Jackie?” Joe asks softly. 

“What?” 

Jack can’t look up, but there’s a funny kind of ache wrapping around his ribs. He doesn’t know how to do this, how to let Joe scale the walls he’s spent years building up. And he doesn’t know why Joe wants to. 

It’s supposed to be better. Jack’s done what he’s supposed to. He sees Dr. Breyer every week. He practices mindfulness. He writes in a fucking journal every day. He has “tools” now. He knows that he’s supposed to ask himself if what he’s feeling is reasonable or unreasonable–and this is unreasonable. It is. 

But, the thing is, it isn’t. It isn’t unreasonable for Jack to wonder why Joe would even bother. Not when no one’s ever bothered before. 

“Would it be easier for you if I were mad?” Joe asks again, and Jack can feel Joe’s eyes on the crown of his head. “If I gave you a reason to disengage?” 

Jack loops his arms around the backs of his thighs. Yes. Yes, it would be easier. But– “I don’t want to. Disengage, I mean.” Jack’s voice is a whisper. 

“I know you don’t,” Joe says. He turns, and his knees are a hairsbreadth from Jack’s. “And I don’t want to either.” 

“Even though I’m–” 

Jack swallows the words, but they do not disappear. Dirty. Used up. A whore. Unreasonable or not, he can’t shake the feeling that it’s true. 

“What are you, Jack?” 

Jack grinds his face into the denim. “I don’t know.” But he does. And so does Joe, now. 

“You know what does make me mad?” Joe says softly. Jack doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t think Joe expects him to. “It makes me mad that anyone could treat you that way. That people would even think to do things like that to a child, or to anyone. That you’re sitting next to me and thinking that I’m going to judge you for it, and that it’s your fault. Because that’s what they told you. That’s how they made you feel.” 

Jack can hear the rough edge of tears in Joe’s voice. 

“Jackie?” 

Jack peeks away from his knees. 

“It wasn’t your fault, baby,” Joe says. “None of it.” 

That’s what Dr. Breyer says too. And Jack tries to believe her. Sometimes, he does. He wants to. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Joe says, and even though his voice is soft, it slams into Jack’s chest.  

No one’s ever apologized to him before. 

Jack tries to take a deep breath, but it stutters against his ribs. He rocks back and forth on the edge of the bed, the way he used to when he would shut himself up in the closet, after Bill. 

“I–I know it’s not my fault.” 

Because he’s supposed to know that at this point. And maybe, somewhere he does. He wouldn’t be so angry if he thought any of it had been fair. 

“No, it isn’t,” Joe reassures him. 

“–but I can’t help–I just–I still don’t understand why. Five years of fucking therapy, and I still–I just–” 

Jack breaks off, and he crumples to his side. He still keeps his knees in close; it’s the only way he knows how to protect himself–or, at least, to pretend that he can. But he can smell Joe on the pillow, and he turns his face, breathing in the scent: ginger, basil, sandalwood. He wants to ask Joe to hold him, but he can’t. 

And then, Joe lies down behind him. 

There’s still a gap between their bodies; Joe doesn’t close the space. But Jack can feel him anyway. Jack can feel Joe’s warmth, and he wants to wrap himself in it. 

A breath. 

“Jackie. Can I touch you?”

Jack nods, but he doesn’t make a sound. 

“Jack?” 

“Yes. Please.”  

Joe’s touch is so ginger, so careful that, for a moment, Jack isn’t sure he can even feel it. But Joe’s hands are warm and soft, and they wrap gently around Jack’s waist from behind. Jack lets his knees go, and he wraps his arms around himself until his hands find Joe’s forearms. 

Jack is shaking. 

“Is this okay?” 

“Yes,” Jack whispers. He presses back against Joe’s chest, and Joe holds him closer. 

Joe’s lips press a whisper-soft kiss to the back of Jack’s neck, and Jack shivers. No one’s ever touched him so gently. It makes Jack want to cry, but he doesn’t understand why. It’s wonderful. Joe’s wonderful.  

“Is that okay?” Joe asks. 

“Yes.” 

Joe’s chin slides over his shoulder, and he nuzzles close to Jack’s cheek. “If it isn’t–” 

“It is.” Never let me go, Jack thinks. Please. But he can’t say it out loud. 

“Okay. Okay, good.” Joe squeezes him, and it feels safe. “I’ll never make you feel that way, Jackie. Never, never. You are more important than what your body has to offer. I promise you. You are more than what’s happened to you.”

Jack closes his eyes, and he tries to believe. If Joe believes, maybe he can too. 

---

“So, the last time you had contact with him was two days ago?”

Joe wants to slam his fist into the wall. It’s painted a soft, seafoam green–meant to be soothing. Public institutions love to pervert the psychology of color. Pastel blues, pale yellows, fucking seafoam green. They’re meant to trick you into feeling things you don’t. Joe isn’t about to be soothed. He can’t be. 

Joe rubs his eyes. “Yes,” he snaps. “I—I was away, like I told you. We talked that morning–”

What’ll you do tonight, baby? 

Are you kidding? The vegetarian has flown the coop. I’m makin’ steak! 

And contributing to the death of the planet. 

Sure, but you love me.

I really do. 

I love you too. Call me tonight? 

Soon as I’m done. 

“--but I—I had to give an address at the conference. When I tried to call him afterward, there was no answer.”

Call me tonight? Jack had asked him to call. And then–

“And that’s unusual?” asks the detective. Sergeant Julia Wade. She’s young. Not as young as Jack, but still. Joe can’t help but feel like they’ve sent a kid to do a grown-up’s job. 

“Yes, Goddamnit! He always answers. We always check in. Always. I promised him.” Joe’s voice breaks. 

He did, he promised Jack that he would always be safe; Jack deserves to be safe. And now–now– Joe hunches over his knees and swallows a sob. He must look completely unhinged. 

“Okay. Okay, Mr. Prescott—”

“—Dr. Prescott—”

“Dr. Prescott, I can see you’re worried.”

“Of course I’m fucking worried!” Joe feels the heat rising in his cheeks. “He’s missing!”

Sergeant Julia Wade winces sympathetically. “Sir, I understand your concern, but you’ll have to calm down.” Her voice is seafoam green soothing, and it makes Joe want to scream. “We’re going to figure out what’s happened, I just need some help from you.”

She stares at Joe for a moment, and he forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Fine. Yeah. Okay. Fine.”

“Good.” Wade shifts in her chair, licking her fingertip and flipping to the next page on her yellow legal pad. “Now, M-Dr. Prescott, was everything alright between you and Mr. Kenyon before you left for the conference?”

“Yes, of course,” Joe snaps. He understands that he might seem less than credible right now, but Jack is missing, and there’s no way Joe’s nervous system can funnel any energy into anything but absolute panic.

Wade raises an eyebrow. “No disagreements or—”

“No!”

“Okay.” Wade speaks as though she’s trying to calm a spooked animal. She licks her lips and tries to smile at him, but Joe is an expert in expressed emotion; she’s fucking humoring him. “I understand, sir. I do. It’s just that we have to be sure. There’s no reason Mr. Kenyon would maybe have taken the conference as an opportunity to leave without your noticing?”

Like this is Joe’s fault. Like Joe has done something to frighten Jack so bad he’d run away. 

It’s Jack who frightens Joe. Maybe Joe’s been worried something like this would happen for a long time. Yes, Jack is doing better. He’s worked hard to accept Joe’s love, to accept himself and everything that happened before. But still. Jack has moments–what if he did take off?  But why would he? He wouldn’t. Not right now. 

Joe shakes his head. “No! He’s—Jack wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. It’s almost the end of the semester, and he had finals. We were gonna go to the Berkshires when I got back, before he started his new job—”

Joe’s gut is a block of ice. 

“Dr. Prescott?”

If I had someone as lovely as your Jack, I’d snap him up right away. Lock him up so no one could get at him. That’s what Peters had said to him. 

It’s unreasonable, Joe knows. There’s no reason to think that Ivan Peters has anything to do with this. Peters was at the conference. He wasn’t even here.

And yet–

Joe shakes his head, but the thought doesn’t dislodge. Wade stares at him, waiting for him to go on. 

“He—” Joe’s voice breaks, and he clears his throat. “He just got a job. With Dr. Ivan Peters. He was so excited. He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t—”

Joe cracks open then, and whatever he would have said is completely swallowed by a choked wail. 

“It’s alright, Dr. Prescott.” Wade is kneeling beside him, her hand ghosting against his shoulder.  “It’s alright. We’ll file the report, and we’ll see if we can get a read on his cell phone and credit card activity.”

It takes a minute for Joe to get a hold of himself. He should be embarrassed, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Yeah.” He takes a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay.”

Wade squeezes his shoulder, and this time, she gives him a genuine smile. It’s sad, but at least it’s real.

“We’ll do our best to find him, sir. I promise.” 

It isn’t the promise Joe wants. She’s supposed to promise that they will find him, not that they’ll try. 

“Why don’t we get a list of folks we can contact? Neighbors, anyone on campus that might have seen him; maybe this Dr. Peters you mentioned?” 

Ivan’s name sends another jolt down Joe’s spine, but he forces himself to nod. 

“Yeah,” Joe agrees, his voice still wet and shaking. “I–I can do that.”

“Good, Dr. Prescott. That would be really helpful.” 

“Yeah,” Joe murmurs. 

He stares at the seafoam green wall, and he wonders what Jack can see.

---

I promise you. You are more than what’s happened to you. 

“Please,” Jack murmurs. He knows Joe is there. It smells like him, and it’s so warm. Something soft brushes Jack’s skin, and he snuggles into it. “Please, Joe.” 

He waits for Joe to slip his arms around him, to fill the space, but there’s nothing. He starts to reach back, but his hands won’t move. In fact, Jack can’t feel his hands at all. And then he remembers. 

His wrists are still tethered to the collar that fucking fried him yesterday, and when he thrashes and tugs, it only cinches the leather tighter around his throat. Wire rods dig into his bare hips, and the crate rattles around him. Joe’s hoodie slips away, falling behind him, and he can’t reach it. Not without his hands. But he needs Joe. He can’t–this isn’t–why–

Jack forgets that he’s muzzled until he tries to scream. The metal bit stops his tongue, and his throat aches. 

No. No, no, no, no, no! He tries to take a breath, but one breath is swallowed by another and another until he isn’t breathing at all; he’s drowning in his cage. 

“Oh, my. Sweet boy, are you scared?” 

A light flickers on, and Ivan appears above him, still buttoning his shirt. Jack throws himself against the side of the crate. He can feel Joe’s hoodie beneath him, but it doesn’t help. He knows what Ivan can see. And more importantly, he knows what Ivan can do. What Ivan’s done already. 

Yes. Fuck, yes, he’s scared. But still, Jack shakes his head–or at least, he tries; his fettered wrists keep his neck still.  The latticed wires of the crate dig into Jack’s back, and God help him, he whines like an animal. 

“You need to breathe, Jackie. You’ll only hurt yourself like that.” 

No. Not Jackie. Not for you. Jack tries again to wrench his head away, but he can’t. He’s stuck looking at Ivan fucking Peters while he hyperventilates. 

Ivan kneels beside the crate. “If you can’t control yourself, I’ll have to sedate you,” he says with a sigh.

Jack flares his nostrils, but still, there’s not enough air. Ivan releases the padlock and opens the door. His hands are on Jack immediately, one knuckled into Jack’s sweaty hair, and the other trailing down his neck.  Jack’s chest heaves, but the rest of him is frozen. 

It’s too familiar. Maybe he’s never been caged before, not literally, but Jack knows this feeling: Ivan’s the hunter, Jack is his prey, and this is the breath before the shot. And the shot always lands. Jack has the scars to prove it. 

Ivan knows it too. He smiles. “And if you’re sedated, that will delay your training. I’d have to find some way to keep myself occupied, wouldn’t I?” He leans his head inside the open door, and his lips are close to Jack’s ear. “And you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. Which I suppose is training in and of itself, isn’t it, sweet boy?”

Ivan’s thumb runs over Jack’s muzzle, pressing against his lips, working the bit into his tongue. Jack squirms, grunting in protest; Ivan only presses harder. 

“Is that how you want to start the day?” Ivan asks. “Or would you like to be a good boy?” 

Jack can’t answer, of course, but it doesn’t matter. He already feels his breath starting to settle. 

He doesn’t want to be a good boy, but it’s all he’s ever known how to be. 

He forces himself to his knees, and Ivan helps him out of the cage. 

next >

#behavior modification #tw csa implied #tw future noncon #jack kenyon oc #joe prescott oc #ivan peters oc #have a fluffy flashback #and a depressing window into whatever's going on with joe #and a creepy/intimate whumper who knows how he likes to start the day

[infinite-orangepeel]

9 & 13 for the writer asks, please :)

bobbie, hi ! lovely to see you here, my friend <3 hope you're having a great start to your weekend :) thanks so much for submitting these ones !

and thanks to @lordoftherazzles for creating this tag game 💌

9. have you ever made yourself laugh with something you've written?

short answer: yes.

long answer: usually when i'm writing some intentionally awkward flirting between steddie, i won't be satisfied UNLESS it makes me personally smile or giggle (that's like my litmus test for if it gets included in the final draft).

also, whenever i get to write ensemble scenes with the whole gang (bonus points: if it's steddie 'parenting; the kids), i find myself laughing. i recently wrote these few lines for it's rotten work and they make me smile:

“Uh, no. That’s okay. Thanks, though,” Steve’s mom-brain is running at the speed of light as he tries to do the math on how to accommodate everyone, explain everything, and deal with the potential fallout–all while getting the kids to go to bed at a reasonable hour, “Why’d you guys come here, anyway?”

“To drink alcohol and kiss our boyfriends–at least that’s what Max said earlier,” she says in a distorted imitation of a regular teen–one who hasn’t lived through years of unethical lab experimentation, multiple apocalyptic events, and attained telekinesis. 

“Do you and your boyfriend kiss with alcohol, Steve?” she wonders aloud and he stammers around trying to generate an acceptable, PG-13 answer. 

“Well, you know. I don’t–I think that it’s best–” 

“Oh, they’ve definitely kissed,” Dustin jogs over and Mike tags along on lanky legs. 

“Definitely,” Mike confirms, like he might be able to apply the scientific method to prove it, “Just look at the hickeys on Steve’s neck! Either a vampire attacked him in the woods or he and Eddie have been having sex in Hopper’s cabin–which ew–” 

“Oh gross!” Lucas exclaims from his perch across the room, “I bet there’s dude jizz all over the cabin. I’m probably sitting in some right now, aren’t I? Actually don’t answer that–”

“Okayyyy. Sounds like mama bear needs some help getting her ducklings back in line. That’s my cue, Red,” Eddie ties off the intricate braid he’s weaved into Max’s strawberry colored hair and leaves her giggling with an unintelligible comment he whispers into her ear. 

13. multichapter fics or one shots?

ahh don't make me choose ! jk, jk.

as a reader, i have a slight preference for multichapter fics.

i'm def one of those people that gravitates towards works with over 100k words (or even 200k tbh) and some seriously fucked up tags (what can i say? i like the dark stuff. the more fucked up/toxic and crazy the better sometimes lol in fiction at least). like the fact that each installment of @azrielgreen's fics tends to be over 20k words is the best to me lol. I live for it ! also I just live for her writing in general, wow.

but tbh if it's steddie, i'll read anything under the sun. and bc i'm constantly writing and working on my own wips, one shots do bode well for me due to time constraints !

and as a writer, i have a HUGE preference for multichapter fics. bc if i'm obsessed with a pairing (and steddie is seriously my otp forever) i want to stay immersed in that universe for as long as possible. and bc I like to torture myself with writing slowburns and/or angst with a happy ending, i find that the multipchapter/giant word count format works best for plot and character development.

to me, it's rotten work and i wore his jacket are both heavily character driven. it's rotten work was born out of the idea that i wanted to explore steve's trauma in the whumpiest/brutal way possible. eventually, that transformed into addressing and exploring eddie's trauma, as well. and in order for a fic like that to work and to see any real healing take place, i think the story needs time to breathe and develop for it to be believable/feel realistic enough for the reader.

anyways !! sorry that was a way too long answer but I had too many thoughts in my brain on the topic. if you read that all, I seriously adore you <3

#marissa's asks #this one is a long answer and i'm sorry i'm so wordy ahhaah #thanks bobbie !! much love to you #writer asks #steddie asks #steddie #steddie brainrot #steddie au #steddie fics #steddie fic recs #steddie fluff #steddie my beloved #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie munson/steve harrington #steve harrington headcanon #steddie ficlet #steddie excerpt #steddie ao3 #steddie headcanon #steve harrington character analysis

[cheemken]

What do you mean the villain au is supposed to be dead dove don't eat???? hello?????

but will you actually write the au like that or keep it as it is? I'm curious what changes there will be or will it stay the same?

if it's no trouble, what about a little snippet of it being dead dove don't eat, if that's alright with you!

Yeah it's supposed to be the epitome of all my angsty stuff, like, the whumpiest of whump of all my aus, all the fucked up horrible things that a character can go through or do should be in that au hahah

Ah, idk, maybe?? If someone asks hahah or maybe that chance went by na, so hey I'm just going w what we have rn, it's still dope hahah

And I didn't really write stuff bc ofc it's just a concept for me, just smth I'd think abt and I never write that stuff down unless someone asks or if I wanna share hahah but hey have some concepts on the initial concept of the villain Dia au, as a treat uvu

Like,, Diantha is legit the worst in my initial concept of the villain au, homegirl legitimately did not give a single fuck abt anyone that isn't her brother or Geeta, she actually killed Malva herself and made her own pkmn watch. Her manipulation runs especially deep in Augustine to the point that this man couldn't even talk back in a certain tone to his sister nor could he ever say no to her, so every secret he was told to keep by someone else, he has to tell her, or else. And hey, w Geeta too, she probs killed a man for Dia at one point let's be real, and Dia showered her w praises, telling her she's such a really good friend for doing her that one favour

Idk if you remember but like, that concept w Mom Carnet? Yeah, Diantha wasn't supposed to kill her during that, my first thought of it was that she kept Mom Carnet alive till present time, and tortured her in the basement. Yknow, burning her skin too, hitting her with that rod, engraving her own initials on Mom Carnet's body, laughing at her as she watches her cry and plead for forgiveness, to just kill her, to grant her at least that mercy. But nah, Diantha suffered so long under her mother, it's only fair her mother suffers too. Mom Carnet is still alive tho, like that concept where Cynthia and Augustine tries to look for Dia? Yeah, Augustine was supposed to find Mom Carnet in the basement during that hahah

Dia in the initial concept is an absolute demon spawn, like tragic backstory be damned honestly, she doesn't care abt purging the world of evil or anything, oh no, she just wanted a world where she would be hailed as queen, for people to worship her like the god that she is. Like she really got everyone in Kalos wrapped around her fingers and none of them are any wiser. When she killed Malva, she told everyone that she probably couldn't stand a life without Lysandre, so she followed suit, and the people believed her and they all grieved, but Dia really didn't care, she thought it was funny that they'd grieve over a member of Flare, a useless organization that was ran by an even worthless man

She really knows how to break anyone and make them bow to her will, knows just what they desire, sensual or not, she'll give them just that, give them everything they want, and suddenly she'd take it from them, saying if they don't pledge their loyalty to her, then they'd share the same fate as those who were damned by Arceus

And yknow, the tournament thing happened still, but w this I wanna say Diantha really didn't cause a huge uproar w Yveltal, rather she got Rose assassinated, or she got him kidnapped, and she ends up torturing him the same way she did w Mom Carnet. Like maybe locking him up in a dark and small room, leaving him there for days, until he loses his mind. And for her it's fun to watch him slowly descend to madness, it's fun taunting him on where his little champion is, why isn't he here to save you then? She'd laugh at him, showing him a picture of Leon still living his best life, and then looks at Rose, sneering at him, bc he doesn't care about you. He never did. And basks in the sheer amount of morbid joy she felt when his arrogant look paled, this is what happens I guess, when you try to challenge me

And yeah hahahah this was really fun to write for this ask, but yeah that's like, the tip of the iceberg still ig there's still a whole lot going on but hey hahah

#real quick tho is it really still called dead dove dont eat?? like.. for the really angsty stuff? #cause i looked it up here and majority of the content in that tag is smut #is whump the thing i should use for this?? #ah well hey if anything yall just send an ask on what tags to use on this bc i really dont know #angst #heavy angst #death mention tw #torture mention #murder mention tw #just to be safe hahah #villain diantha au #an ask and an answer #anon

[meissashush]

7, 13, 18 for the behind the scenes ask game

7. Which part of writing do you struggle with most?

The writing bit haha. I mean, I'm sure most writers feel the same, but there are days I sit down to write and absolutely nothing comes out. I guess, if I want to be more specific, I'd say the issue I encounter the most when it comes to writing is that I can almost never tell if I can't write on certain day because of needing to push through a block, or if it's because I need to take a break. There's a fine line between the two of them, and I am not good at recognizing the difference.

13. Is there a trope you wouldn’t write if it was the last trope on earth?

Ukefication. I'm a devoted lover of bad-asses. Even in the whumpiest of whumps, I want my characters to have agency and a spine. I feel like there is a very big difference between letting a character be vulnerable and making them into nothing more than a shivering brain-dead trophy.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

(Forcing myself to do this about a published fic lmao)

Goose Step has a scene in it that was not planned, but ended up being one of my favorite I've written.

“You’re seriously gonna do a little dance for His Majesty?”

Nyx lobbed a knife at Lib’s stupid smirk, watching with annoyance as he flickered around it easily. He lazily chucked another three in the general direction of the blue sparks, snorting as one pinged harmlessly off Lib’s knee-pads.

“Not really being given much of a choice,” Nyx said. “You have to practice phasing without the gear at some point.”

Lib glared at him, rubbing at his knee. “Yeah, I will when it’s not you doing the throwing.”

I wanted it to be clear that Nyx was being a bit of a coward, and that meant that someone other than Cor the Immortal would have to tell him so. I figured I would have someone Nyx was much more inclined to trust say it, so that his refusal to listen would stand out more as a product of fear/anxiety rather than based in any unseen past experiences. Naturally, Libertus was the best choice.

We start with my favorite activity for this duo, Libertus and Nyx giving each other shit.

It always kind of annoyed me that, while I know warping is supposed to be one of the harder magic techniques, Libertus didn't seem to be capable of even phasing when most of the other Kingslgaive are shown doing it. So I decided to make Nyx annoyed by it too, which is why Libertus is being given one-on-one training in it.

Lib, of course, uses the opportunity to make fun of Nyx for being spineless. Bit of glass-house move, given the circumstances, but I've never been above throwing stones so neither is Lib.

I absolutely agree with his decision to wear protective gear while practicing with Nyx, though, whose aim is more instinct than is strictly safe for people who spar with him.

“Coward!” Crowe called, dangling lazily from the ropes overhead.

And here's where the scene immediately went of the rails.

Crowe always has a talent for throwing me completely off in my writing (which is why her fic is taking so freaking long). She's a lot of fun to write because of this, but she also has a tendency to run off and world-build on her own. Such as, the Warp Obstacle Course, of which she is currently dangling from. Yes, it also bothered me that we saw almost nothing of her talents in the movie, so she gets to warp too.

“Mind your six!” Nyx yelled back at her, watching as one of the greener Glaives tried to warp up behind her. Anya, he was pretty sure. The rare Nif with a talent for magic. 

An OC! Yeah, Anya is actually a glaive you should get used to seeing in my fics, since I consider her to be one of Nyx's more trusted officers. This is early into her training, though, and I made a nod to the Comrades lore here that Nifs aren't typically as skilled with magic.

“You should just hire one of those troupes to do it for you. Less embarrassing for Galahd that way. I’ve seen you dance.” Lib said as he tossed the knives back into the Armiger.

Nyx pulled them out again and readied his aim. “Yeah, keep talking and I’ll make you do it.”

Nyx can't dance. He can do the training sequences just fine, but I don't see him as the kind of guy who can let himself go long enough to feel comfortable making a display of himself. Part of this is because I love to juxtaposition 'grandiose' characters with crippling anxiety, and part of it is because in the movie, he is described by other characters as being a show-off, but he doesn't really do that outside of it being a by-product of him doing what is necessary.

I also loved this little interplay of the armiger here. I have a fairly nuanced idea of how 'my' version of the armiger works, and I love hinting at it in places.

“Or,” Luche said, clapping a hand on Nyx’s shoulder. “You could grow a pair and tell his royal arse to shove it.”

Ah, Luche. Eloquent. A good portion of this whole over-arching AU is to redeem the Traitor Glaives, since I think they're neat.

Nyx held the knife over his shoulder, offering it to Luche, who took it immediately.

“You’re late,” he said as the knife whipped past his ear and towards Lib’s chest.

“Yeah, well, blame yourself for putting me on guard on the other ass-end of this fucking city.”

“Blame yourself for running your mouth in front of Councilor Balneum.”

Luche scoffed, grabbing another knife from Nyx’s hand and pitching it at Lib. “He had it coming.”

I also like to explore the relationship between Nyx and Luche as friends who had grown apart, and how that changes when Drautos isn't purposely driving a wedge between them. I see them as two people who know each other extremely well, but don't always have the same ideals. They do, however, both enjoy throwing knives at Libertus.

Nyx nodded slightly in agreement, sniffing once. “Yeah, he did. Doesn’t change the fact that I had to do something about it, or risk him mouthing off to someone else with more sway.”

I don't think a lot of people caught this detail, despite the fact that I made a point of it in the scene prior, but Nyx is subconsciously using the same behavioural cues that he was examining in Cor. Specifically, this is the 'slight sniff to denote agreement', though Nyx notably also voices his opinion where Cor tends to leave it unspoken.

“Fucking politics.”

Nyx laughed, “Yeah, welcome to the Citadel, Luche. You still want to be my second?”

This is the first time I mention in this series (or any, for that matter) that Luche is Nyx's second in command. I will delve into this more in his planned KGLegends22 piece.

“Shut the fuck up,” Luche sighed, throwing the last knife at Lib and missing by a meter. “Let me take a nap instead of running drills, and we’re even.”

Lib watched the knife clatter off in the other direction, bemused.

Luche is just tired, here. His aim is actually very good.

“How about you go relieve Crowe of her flag and I won’t make you do target practice for an hour to make up for your shit aim?”

Nyx has to balance being a Captain and not being a hardass. He's being a bit soft here, but part of that is to gauge just how sour Luche is, since this is early into their Captain-Second partnership. They already mesh pretty well, but the last thing the Kingsglaive need is interpersonal conflict between their leadership. It's about toeing the line between authority and comraderie.

“Oi, fuck you!” Crowe shouted, now dangling slightly to the left of where she had been earlier and attempting to shove Anya off the course.

“Deal,” Luche laughed before shattering into blue sparks behind him.

One of the parallels I am making in this scene is the connection between Fighting and Play in Galahdian culture. Nyx's training style and leadership is drastically different from Drautos', largely because Nyx is letting his own upbringing inform how he leads. Rather than warp training being traumatic as it is in the movie, they utilize various techniques in team building activities, simultaneously training the magic as they build trust in one another.

I am annoyed at myself for not mentioning that there are other Glaives taking part in this capture the flag game, though. It's not just the five of them in there.

“Still should just tell them off, Hero,” Lib said, sauntering back from retrieving Luche’s stray throw. “Or at the very least have someone else do it. No reason to make a fool of yourself for the royals. You’re not just a random Glaive anymore and they need to remember that.”

“Easy for you to say,” Nyx scoffed. “You’re not the one standing in a room with them every day.”

“Sounds like you need to remember it too, Captain."

Libertus has never exactly been subtle, but that's just as well, since Nyx is being extremely obtuse here. You'd think he'd pick up on it, but nah. Which is a good think for us, since otherwise we wouldn't have gotten Nyx doing a little dance for Cor in the very next scene XD

#ffxv #nyx ulric #libertus ostium #luche lazarus #crowe altius #ask game fill #my stuff #garbria #kingsglaive

[peachy-panic]

Whumpy Book Rec:

I don’t always bring my book recs to Tumblr dot com (I have an Instagram for that--give me a shout if you’re interested lol), but WHEN I DO, it’s with the passion and fervor of a thousand suns, and I’m here with another one. 

ALL FOR THE GAME TRILOGY BY NORA SAKAVIC. 

BITCH. 

When I say that this story has overthrown my life over the past ~5 days, I mean it has been a full hostile takeover of my ability to function as a human in society. And y’all are the PERFECT target audience for my ramblings, because this is the whumpiest damn book I have ever gotten my greedy little hands on.  

I mean. I’m obsessed. I had some reservations right at first, and from a technical standpoint, sure, there could have been some changes. But it’s very clear this author has a great deal of raw storytelling talent and has crafted some truly amazing characters and a world I never wanted to climb out of. 

I really don’t even want to give too much away, because so much of my love for this book came from the sheer joy of slowly peeling back the layers of these characters and learning about their (brutal & extensive) traumas and what makes them tick. 

If you like found family tropes, agonizing slow burns, college settings, a backdrop of organized crime, self-published authors, and Characters With Dark Pasts, you’ve got three perfect books awaiting your eager consumption. 

Jury’s still out on whether or not I will be able to refrain from reblogging fanart from this series on this account. But if I do, it will pretty much double as whump art almost always. 

#whump #whumpy book recs

[skypied]

Aight been thinking about posting this for a while as I’m not making much headway on this long fic idea. There’s kind of an intro post to it here, I can’t be assed to re-explain again. cw for referenced/vaguely described underage sex/sexual assault, a shitton of fuckloads of homophobia, and a general warning for probably the whumpiest thing i’ve ever posted

You’re different.

You don’t know why or how you’re different, but you know.

You’ve always known, seen it in the twitch of an eyebrow, in the downturned corner of a mouth, in the unspoken what’s wrong with you, forever carved into your heart the one time it was spoken. Even when they’re trying to be nice about it, not worry you, there’s a slight pause, a lift of their tongues, the moment of recalibration they do to stop their true intentions from slipping through their teeth before shaping them into a smile.

You’re different and no one likes it and no one tells you why. You can’t ask why. You don’t know how, the question too expansive and intangible as a shiver of wind across waves, fleeting just out of the corner of your eye before you turn to look.

You don’t know how you’re different until someone sees you, really sees you, the surprised revelation bare in their eyes as they see the mirror in yours. And in a moment you would walk to the ends of the earth for them, naked, stumbling, bruised and battered, risking everything simply to see your own reflection. 

And that’s your failure. Your one, biggest mistake in life. The hole in your heart so deep, so desperate for something to fill it that you settle for anything.

Anything tastes like muffling your sobs into a cracked leather seat, sour cigarette smoke stuck in your sinuses, the annoyed sigh waiting for you to get over it already, you should be grateful, I was gentle since it’s your first time.

Gentle tastes like bile in your throat and your back quivering trying to recover from the cramping. Gentle tastes like a couple of lira shoved into your palms to get some gum or something. Gentle tastes like tears in your eyes for days and still coming back for more next week.

Gentle is never gentle, but you learn to take it, greedy hands grabbing for anything, anyone who will grab back, and treat you how you deserve.

Portorosso isn’t big, but you learn to find others like you. Or rather, they find you. You learn just how many milliseconds too long a man’s eyes linger on you to differentiate between cordial and carnal. You learn to follow them, far enough behind to not rouse suspicion, muffling the slap of your bare feet on cobblestone, sneaking glances over your shoulders and in windows. You learn to slink through their back doors and play comfortable in their bed, grateful when the scent of their wives’ perfume disguises the scent of your own shame.

After the first few, it gets easier. You get recommended and passed on like an exotic commodity, strangers casually mentioning they’ve heard a lot about you, making your skin prickle with their demanding grins. They know you won’t say no. You hate them for it. You hate yourself more.

You can’t explain it. You can’t explain it to save your life. How much it hurts, contorting into anything these disgusting men want, fearing both your mind and back will one day snap. How it’s worth it for feeling a little less alone, for the rare occasion someone will stroke your cheek and kiss you without teeth, when your heart flutters and believes in the possibility of gentleness, until you’re shoved unceremoniously out the back door, alone and aching both more and less than before.

Being passed between hands is better than having no arms around you, to compress you until you’re nothing more than the lump of charcoal you call a heart. 

You take it. You’re grateful. It’s a whole lot better than nothing.

This is all there is for people like you. You don’t get happy endings. You pick out words whispered behind hands, that are later tossed around like sharp rocks by the older kids, words that prick at the carved-out letters in your heart. Sometimes, rarely, you see yourself in movies, and your heart pounds and aches and yearns, but their endings have you clutching your chest, desperate to tear out the danger inside it.

This is all there is for people like you. 

You have no evidence to the contrary.

#this was also the very first thing I wrote in second pov lol #skypieposts #skypiefics #(jury’s still out on whether it’s the whumpiest i’ve ever written)

[hippolotamus]

😊 The fic that you’re the most proud of?

Okay, you would think this wouldn't be too hard because I don't have many to choose from. And yet...

What's Your Fantasy? - This one because it was my first attempt at plotless smut. When I say it took a village for me and my self-confidence to create this... for a long time I still shied away from it because it was soooo different for me. I'm learning to embrace it though.

Feelin' Warm in the Wintertime - This one because it was the first thing I published with all OPs! I love them to death and it makes me all gushy.

Warm Hellos and Our Last Goodnights - The whumpiest thing I've ever written. It's sad AF and the tone of the ending is highly subjective. But this was a creative stretch that felt satisfying to put out, even knowing most people would avoid it.

Every Shade of Blue (series) - I'm quite fond of these two. Looking directly at the moment Patrick leaves Rachel for the last time, from both POVs. How they felt in the minutes and hours leading up to it and directly after. I loved getting in both their heads.

I hope you enjoyed my non-answer 🙃

Send a writer ask and I may give you a satisfactory response!

#seriously this is a rude question #writer asks #hippo answers #stereopticons #💙🦛

[whumpflash]

(This is one of the first Actual Whump scenes I wrote. Literally just this. I added context and plot way after. It's not the whumpiest thing in the world, but it's a required pre-chorus to this scene)

cw: violence, some lady whump but it's not the focus

I wish he'd shut up for once.

But Nick has never known when to quit. Not when he's caught in a lie, not when he's in too deep with a damn crime lord, and certainly not when he's managed to piss off a man who's got at least fifty pounds on him.

He and Aaron were supposed to be partners. Neither of them liked it, but their boss--our boss--had the final say, and no one had the balls to question Armitage.

But even when they hated each other's guts, partners weren't supposed to throw each other under the bus, whether it was for the greater good or not.

Even though I've known Aaron was an asshole from the start, and even though I can't fault Nick for what he did, I at least understand Aaron's anger. Nick betrayed him, plain and simple. An apology isn't going to cut it, and we all know it.

Nick doesn't try to fight. He probably knows that would make things worse, but somehow he doesn't seem to realize that spitting out insults has the same effect. I'm slow to react, at first not comprehending the full weight of the situation, or I might've been able to stop him. To at least put a band aid on the whole thing long enough for both of us to run far far away from the empty parking lot and the pissed off dude standing in it.

But unfortunately, I'm not that lucky.

So I can only shout for Aaron to stop as he seized Nick by the shoulders and throws him backwards.

Nick collides with the concrete base of a lamppost, sinking to the ground. A splotch of blood grows at the corner of his mouth, turned black by the streetlight. Aaron stalks towards him and I run to intercept. I can see his eyes. He's mad, but not so far gone that he can't be talked out of it. Yet.

So I take a deep breath and step in front of him, blocking the path to Nick. “That's enough. He's learned his lesson."

“You know that's a fucking lie,” he snaps. He tries to sidestep me, but I mirror him.

“Aaron. Please. Just leave him alone.”

“Move."

I stand my ground. “It's late. We should all be getting home.”

“Clara.”

It's Nick now. I turn around. He's still sitting in the same spot, sprawled on the ground with the lamppost to his back. He's not smiling when he talks to me.

“Just go home. We're just... Talking it out.”

I shake my head. “Talking it out?”

“For once he's right,” Aaron says. “This has nothing to do with you. Now get out of my way.”

“No.”

Once again, he sidesteps and I block him.

“Clara, move.”

“This has to stop. What happens if Armitage hears you've been fighting? He won't like that.”

I can see a flash of hesitation cross his face when I mention our boss, but it vanishes as quickly as it came.

"Armitage isn't here." He takes a step forwards, I stay still, trying to appear calm though my heart is pounding.

"I get it," I say, looking up at him, unmoving. "It was a dick move on his part, but it won't happen again, okay?"

"No," Aaron replies. "You don't get it."

I glance at Nick. Aaron takes another step forward, and without thinking, I try to push him away. When I look back at him, I can see the change in his eyes. Like a fire inside him is about to bloom. I only have a second to feel afraid before he shoves me, and suddenly I'm hurtling backwards, skidding to a stop in the middle of a puddle. My elbows burn and I feel the water seeping through my shirt as Aaron turns away from his original target and moves on me. I hastily get to my feet, holding my hands out in surrender.

“Aaron, don't--”

He backhands me across the face, and suddenly I'm back on the ground, a flash of red behind my eyes. I try to blink away the pain and sit up, but I can't tell if I'm looking at the sky or the pavement right now. I feel him standing over me, and tense for the next blow.

“Hey!”

I push myself up somewhat, and see a blurry Nick on his feet, facing Aaron.

“I knew you were scared of me, Aaron, but I didn't think you were such a wuss that you'd rather fight her.”

There's a terrible moment of nothing, and then everything seems to happen at once.

Aaron runs at Nick. I somehow get to my feet and run to stop him but get thrown to the side like a rag doll. I hit the ground hard, cracking my head on the street. Before everything goes black, I see Nick land a blow on Aaron's nose.

Then for a moment, nothing. Then I see Nick dodge a kick, take a hit, stumble back. The rage radiates off of Aaron.

And so it goes, fading in and out as I gasp like a fish on the ground and try to find the willpower to get back up.

He's going to kill him.

Nick goes down. I can't even shout his name. My sight is failing around the corners, as if my vision is a peephole that keeps getting smaller and smaller.

Aaron kicks Nick in the side. And does it again. And again. At some point, Nick stops trying to get up. And I think I'm crying but I can't be sure because my head hurts too much to think about anything else, really, and suddenly everything is just dark.

Then, inexplicably, there's a flash of blue. In my head, behind my eyes, all around me.

You know what to do, a voice whispers.

I really don't, I whisper back.

You know.

And I reach for the light. Not with my hands, but with my mind. And slowly, slowly, I feel the blackness slip away, and the pain along with it. My head clears, my eyes open, my elbows even stop stinging.

I don't take the time to question it. I run silently up to Aaron and throw myself onto his back, wrapping both arms around his neck and squeezing with all my strength. He lets out a choked sound and reels backwards. I don't let go. Normally this wouldn't work. Normally, I might not stand a chance. But miraculously healing yourself after a K'O has its advantages, apparently.

Aaron tries to punch me, tries to pull me off, but I bury my face into his back and hold on all the tighter. He stumbles, falling to his knees. His blows start to weaken, until they stop coming altogether and he crashes onto the pavement. I wait a few more seconds before releasing him, maybe for security, maybe due to nerves. Then I run to Nick's side.

He's barely conscious, trying to get up but not doing a very good job of it. I kneel next to him and help him into a sitting position.

“Clara..?” His gaze is too distant. “Clara, are you okay?”

“Am I okay? You should see yourself.”

He shakes his head, and winces. “I... how did you do that?”

“I took him by surprise.”

“You know what I mean.”

I look down. “I don't know. Don't worry about it. We need to get you to a hospital.”

His eyes drift shut for a second, and he gives a little nod. “Tha's probably a good idea.”

I shake his shoulder. “Hey. Stay awake.”

“Nnh, not right now.” His eyes start to close.

“Nick!”

“Hmm?”

I look up at the sky, trying to think. I doubt I could drag him, and I don't have a comm to call an ambulance. Aaron could wake up at any second...

Nick starts to flop to the side, and I throw an arm around him, pulling him to lean against me. Dammit.

The blue light. I'm gonna need that back.

Hey, you know that thing you did?

No response.

Hey, I'm gonna need that again. I hold Nick tighter. Now. I bite my lip. Please.

Nothing. For what seems like forever, it's nothing but my own heartbeat and Nick's shallow breaths.

Are you sure?

My heart leaps. Yes! Yes, I need it.

Alright. Your choice, I suppose.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and the blue light is there again. I reach for it eagerly, this time focusing all my being on Nick. Save Nick. Make him better.

He seems to jolt in my arms, and I feel my headache begin to return, the pain trickling into me like ink onto paper. The sting comes back to my elbows and once again, my vision is tinged with black. Nick sits up suddenly. We meet eyes for all of a second before I crumple, hitting the ground before he can even call my name.

#i hope theres enough context #basically after i moved out i stopped worrying that my parents were looking over my shoulder and Got Whumpy #the stuff from when i lived at home had the vibes but was very muted and glossed over #anyways! im still working on this story today #i need to find an ending but the characters are fun #its not entirely whumpy but it has moments #whump #whumpflash #whump writing #tw violence #beating #defiant whumpee #fantasy whump #i used to do everything in first person POV im sorry

[lemonhemlock]

My take is Ryan is more into brocon... He's just pussy about it and has brocon shipper shame/guilt because it's GAY. You have nothing to lose but your chains Ryan!!!!! But he seems like a big Aemond fanboy so maybe nothing for Aegond here, and it Helaemond all the after all sorry y'all

That one visaemon comment he made... I was hurting bad FOR HIM. On twitter, he and visaemon got flamed by damyras in both unfound ways edging on flippant homophobia, and also in ways that were substantial IMO.

Say it with your chest Ryan!

Now I really can't wait for Daeron, brotherest of brothers. Even Geroge was like pause. Put him back in. He matters he's the most perfect boy, he's a war criminal, he's going through a crisis of faith, he's dying (or not!)!!! Please just one scene with the fam!!!

I even take Daeron dispising Aegon alongside his family. Like the whump of it all. Aegon worstest and whumpiest character at the same time and people wanna say he's one-dimensional??? Will he never be enough for any of yall! Tsk.

*slams a lemon cake on ryan's desk*

*slides it over to him*

"there's more where that came from if you make brocon happen"

*slithers away into the light*

#love the passion in this letter 🙏☠😂 #ask #anon #hotd critical [speculation] #shipping wars #i absolutely love it that ryan is the visaemon club president & founder of this ship #viserys/daemon