#It’s a WHUMP fic haha

[ssreeder]

Bouta Reread your fanfic because there hasn't been enough pain in my life

Wish me luck <3

[decarbry]

immolation (chapter 5)

[gintrinsic-writing]

For @guardedchild and @fwoosheye, who requested physical affection and domestic interactions. Malon and references to Ravio were thrown in for good measure. :)

--

Legend’s first mistake was looking up when he heard the kiss. Though, really, how anyone could ignore the distinct, wet sound of a well-planted smooch from four feet away was beyond him. 

The second mistake was making some kind of face. “Some kind,” because Malon immediately graced him with a knowing smile and closed the distance fast. “Don’t worry, I got plenty more love,” she told him with a laugh, already reaching for Legend’s face with two flour dusted palms. 

“I’m good,” Legend began, eyeing the red lipstick on Time’s left cheek—and Time’s stupid, love-drunk grin, which was somehow worse than Malon’s—and taking a quick step back. 

“Nonsense,” Malon told him sweetly. She gently brushed one thumb across the spot where Legend’s freckles were darkest. “I’d recognize that look anywhere. Homesick, huh? Link—Time—told me about Ravio. Don’t you worry, if he’s half the man I suspect he is to have caught your eye, I bet he’s missin’ you, too.” 

Legend felt like he’d been hit over the head. “Wha—That’s not—Ravio isn’t—Time!” He turned his fiercest scowl on the older hero, who didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. Malon took advantage of Legend’s distraction and planted a light kiss on his forehead. He thought he might die on the spot. 

“There!” Malon beamed at him. “Now, I gotta get back to helpin’ Wild. You boys make yourselves at home. And remember, Legend, you’re very loved.” That said, she made her way down the hall and toward the kitchen. 

“Too much?” Time asked with a teasing smile once Malon was out of sight. 

“Yes,” Legend snapped, rubbing his face like that might get rid of his obvious blush. He didn’t rub his forehead very hard. “Why would you tell her that anyway?”

“Isn’t it true?”

“No, it most certainly is not.” It wasn’t like he and Ravio had ever discussed anything. Except for that one time, which he was not thinking about. 

“Hmm.” 

“And besides, she’s not my wife.” Legend gestured toward the ruby red lipstick still on Time’s cheek. 

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do,” Legend huffed. 

“Oh.” Finally, Time looked a fraction of the awkwardness that Legend felt. “Sorry, I didn’t think— Neither of us meant to make you uncomfortable. I’ll talk to her about it this evening.”

“No, that isn’t…” Legend trailed off with a loud sigh. “Don’t make her feel bad. I’m just not used to it. That.”

“Not used to…?”

“Physical affection,” Legend grumbled. “It makes me feel weird.”

Time hummed shortly. “Bad weird?”

“Just weird weird.” Legend raised a hand. “Don’t get ideas—there’s no deeply rooted trauma or anything like that. I just don’t know what to do with it.”

Time thought about that for a quick moment. “Like with most things, practice helps. It did for me.”

This time, Legend was positive that the face he was making was a grimace. “I’m not going to join the Twilight and Wild cuddle piles. And Sky’s hugs are too intense, it’s like he’s trying to smother you.” 

“I see,” Time answered in his usual cryptic, annoying way. “Well, start smaller. If you want to.”

“Meaning?”

Time shrugged, but there was something soft about the way he stared at Legend then, something understated but appreciative. “Whatever feels less weird.” And then, cataloging his movement in a way that was simple without being patronizing, Time reached out and gently ruffled Legend’s hair. 

All in all, Legend thought, it wasn’t the worst thing. Far from it. 

[silvercap]

Medwhump May 01 -Under Anesthesia-

The first thing Leon becomes aware of is a faint pressure in his side, confusion filtering sluggishly through him as he struggles to remember why that might be a problem. His eyes won't open, his body relaxed and unwilling to obey his attempts to move, and Leon decides he must be trapped in some sort of dream. He feels like it---everything is a few layers removed from reality, like every sensation has been dulled. It's only when the pressure suddenly increases harshly, the smallest pinch of pain drawing him further out of the haze, that he begins to feel anxious.

He thinks he can hear voices. They refuse to make sense when he tries to listen in, babbling words that sound like jargon he can't understand, distant clinking and beeping soon rising above. Leon would frown if he could. Where the hell is he? The last thing he remembers, he was with Piers, a gunshot wound bleeding him dry from where it had been opened in his abdomen.

Leon's eyelids finally open with a flutter, fear pushing him past the cobweb barrier of sleep that holds him hostage. Bright lights immediately blind him, all sterile steel and clean white ceiling above. It looks like a hospital, but... Leon doesn't feel like he's in a hospital bed. He can't feel much of anything, actually, except for another flare of faint pain that prompts him to try and look downwards without moving his head.

He shouldn't have.

Fear trickles down his spine as Leon takes in the forms hovering over him, a cold sweat prickling the back of his neck. He's not breathing on his own---the tubes leading down his throat make sure of that---but he swears he can feel it catch, panic making it difficult to focus. He's about to start trying to scream when a sudden voice cuts through it all, nervous.

"Mr. Kennedy?" A young-looking woman meets his gaze when he rolls his eyes back to centre, face covered in a medical mask and hair swept up under a fabric cap. "Can you hear me?"

Leon blinks, unable to do much else. The woman's eyes widen further, and the entire room explodes into chaos. People move above him too quickly for him to follow, the young woman disappearing for a moment. Someone hovers over his arm with a syringe. Leon tries to swallow and panics when he can't, the pressure in his side suddenly overwhelming. He doesn't like this, not one bit.

The young woman appears again in the corner of his eye. "Go back to sleep," she says softly, reaching to adjust the tubes snaking around his face. "You're alright. We're going to get you back under, again."

Heaviness washes through Leon's system as she speaks, even the fear not enough to keep his eyelids from closing. He's never been more grateful to fall asleep.

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 1 - Race against the Clock

welcome to whumptober :)

title: the life of the ebony clock went out

fandom: limited life smp

cw: blood, gore, body horror, temporary character death

~

Jimmy’s out of time.

By some cruel hope, he’d believed that he wouldn’t be first. Not again. It had happened three times, now, once and again and again, and maybe it was folly to think that Fate didn’t have her cold fingers wrapped around his neck, but he had come to believe that Grian and Joel would cover him.

He’s not quite out of time, he supposes. The numbers on his wrist still showed some minutes, last time he checked. Not like that’ll last.

Who would sacrifice time for the Canary?

It would only bring his time up to around an hour. One more death, and he would be gone—and he’s certain that such a death would come swiftly. Even well-meaning friends wouldn’t be able to save him.

He hasn’t even died, not quite yet.

He fell off the bridge, hit the ground. Hard. Missed the water.

It was a common mistake, one that everybody's made at least once, but this time is different. This time leaves him here, in the grass, staring up at the blue sky above.

His communicator keeps buzzing.

If Jimmy could see himself, see through his flesh, he thinks he would see that every bone in his body is broken.

He can’t move. Paralyzed, then. He remembers falling, falling, then hitting the hard ground with several ear-splitting cracks, his spine buckling under the impact. His head had whipped forward and then back rapidly, whiplash that’s probably more than whiplash leaving his neck stiff and immobile. His boots are too tight on his feet and shins, a sure sign that they’ve swollen immensely. His elbows have shattered, his left hand turned entirely the wrong way. There’s a rib torn out of his chest, another one digging into his lungs. The back of his skull is crushed in so deeply that Jimmy feels if he could lift his head, his brains would drip out.

He’s bleeding. He’s bleeding from all over, from gashes and tears in his back and his legs and his arms, split open by protruding bones or ripped by the ground and grass. Blood bubbles up on his lips, spills down the side of his face. The only thing he can smell is blood. All he can taste is blood.

It’s more pain than he’s ever experienced, every part of him screaming out in a discordant chorus of agony.

There’s a couple of ways he might die here. It could be the pain. The shock of so many broken pieces. His steadily collapsing left lung, desperately trying to pull the weight of the punctured right. Blood loss from so many wounds. Brain death, the matter leaking slowly through the mess of his skull. Choking on his own blood.

He hates how aware he is. Canary’s curse, aware enough of death to send a warning to others. If this were anyone else—if it was anything but his last life—it would have been death on impact. It isn’t fair that he has to experience death, when everyone else just gets to die.

It isn’t fair. It’s torturous, and it isn’t fair.

He draws in another gasping breath, cringing as his ribs scrape against each other and his throat gurgles. Everything . . . everything hurts. Everything hurts so much, it’s terrible and overwhelming; black and blue spots dance across his vision as he watches the clear blue sky. . . .

He hates—more than the awareness, more than the pain—that he’s alone.

He’s always so alone.

He choked to death on an arrow, once. Slow, heat from the scorching desert suffocating him.

He bled out, traitorous slashes in his back, face-down in the marshy earth.

Shock took him, as an Enderman dug its long fingers into his abdomen and pulled out his organs, dragging them out of his stomach.

Always alone.

Is it too much to ask that someone just hold his hand? Sure, he’s not entirely certain that both hands are still attached to his body, but it’s the thought that counts.

More blood leaks from his mouth. His heart flutters, its jolts coming fewer and fewer.

He hasn’t got long yet. A few minutes at most. The time on his wrist continues to count down.

Joel had wanted to give him extra time. Joel was determined to not let him die first, had promised to help him when his time got below an hour.

He isn’t here. It’s just Jimmy and the end, as it always is. As it always has been.

Another breath, another jab of the rib into his lung. His left lung strains and strains, blood steadily filling his chest.

Maybe he’ll drown in his own blood. He doesn’t particularly want to. He wishes he could close his eyes, quickly and painlessly slip away.

Even more blood floods his throat. He doesn’t have the strength to cough, nor tilt his head to the side.

The sky is quite blue above him. The air is pleasantly mild, the sun warm.

This would be his kindest death, if it weren’t for the pain.

Early on in the game, he and Grian and Joel had gone swimming fully-clothed, then hiked up to a sunny hill and laid out in the grass, letting the sun dry their clothes.

This could be that day, lovely and full of laughter, sleepy and happy and Green.

It isn’t.

This day is Red.

There’s too much blood. Blood all over him, more outside than in. It feels like the majority of the blood in his body is in either his throat or his chest cavity.

One final breath, a breath that nearly doesn’t make it past the blood. The pain, thankfully, is starting to numb, his lack of oxygen finally dragging him from awareness.

Though his consciousness is dimming, Jimmy feels it when his other lung collapses. A sharp pain lancing through his chest, barely distinguishable from the rest of it. Whatever little air he’d been managing to get vanishes, swallowed up in the loss.

There’s nothing in his throat but blood. Too much blood to come out his mouth, so it goes back down into his over-full chest.

Too much blood.

Jimmy’s last coherent thought is that he’s going to need some therapy for this one.

-

Grian: did tim survive that?

Tango: ?

Inthelittlewood: what?

Smallishbeans: he fell off the skynet

Grian: water bucket?

Smallishbeans: he was so far out

Smallishbeans: I’ll go find him

Smajor1995: how many lives have we lost to these bridges

Grian: far too many

Etho: I wonder whose idea that was

Smallishbeans: im gona be sick

Grian: ?

Inthelittlewood: honestly if timmy pulled that bucket i’ll be well impressed

GoodTimeWithScar: Joel… the clockers will get revenge…

SolidarityGaming drowned in his own blood.

Grian: OH

Inthelittlewood: OH NO

Etho: !

BdoubleO100: UM?

Tango: OK UH

Smajor1995: oh nooo

Inthelittlewood: haven’t seen THAT death message before

Grian: OH NO

Grian: oh tim

Etho: I have

Inthelittlewood: ??

ZombieCleo: oh that sounds awful

BigBst4tz2: ohh jimmy

Smallishbeans: iwasn’t fast enough

Smallishbeans: nobody go over there

Inthelittlewood: oh geez

Smallishbeans: lots of blood

Grian: guess he didn’t survive it after all

[zangetsusundelion]

I'm apologizing in advance for spamming the IchiIshi tag on ao3 next month; however for those of you that are interested I currently have 18 fics either partly or completely drafted for whumptober and a few more that I haven't started yet.

So for any fans of the ship...I guess you're getting fed next month. Hope you enjoy, and I'll be sharing them here on tumblr so keep your eyes out :)

[mnemosyne-nyx]

Some people get cravings for food, others get inspired. Some people just get horny.

i get eldritch, feral, manic urges to write batman whump at 2am.

[averlym]

Im sorry but can you do 45 angst for parrlyn? U don't have to tho!

45- "leave" (very quick doodle for you!)

[ssreeder]

Is it okay to ask a spoiler? (kinda, like, it's probably just for me I'm at the beginning of your fic and I'm anxious as fck 😂😂)

I'm reading LIAB (chapter Going the Distance), and loving every word of it! I'm considering it as a real book instead of fanfiction, because you're a really skilled author and I can't wait to read the whole series and become an unbearable fan annoying you!! 😜❤️🙏🏼

Anyway, while reading I can't help but wonder: during the series are we gonna see Zuko and Iroh together again? I can't stop thinking about how Zuko misses his uncle (for context, Chang just was left behind for me, so I'm a little emotional about that yet!!!) and I can't stop thinking if we get to see Iroh unleashing all his angry at Zhao once he finds out what happened to Zuko and how our boy suffered...

(Another question completely different: is there any scene in the story you would love to see draw? I actually got to know your fic because of the lovely fanarts hahah, and now I was thinking about drawing something that I read but can't decide which scene 😭😭)

HELLLOOOOO!! I had to look at the chapters to figure out which one was Going the Distance & then I realized you really are in the very beginning of the fic series haha! Well…. WELCOME! (&your anxiousness is super valid it’s a super anxious fic I’m even anxious just thinking about you being anxious lol)

AWWWWW I HOPE YOU LIKE THE ENTIRE SERIES!!! it gets a little wild in some places & super duper dark so I just like to always warn lol. heed the tags lol.

OK AYYYY so as for the spoilers: Iroh & Zuko will absolutely be reunited & it’s going to be a mess. So much will happen between where you’re at in the fic & where you’re going, that it’s hard to even explain without spoiling the entire fic! Which I will do if you want just let me know haha. but Iroh will be part of the story and I think you get an update on him towards the end of the first book & then you’ll hear about him in RIA & then they’ll be reunited in ITF. They have a long & painful journey ahead of them I’m sorry… you have quite a bit of angst to get through.

& I can promise you Iroh is going to be very very PISSED. I love me some slightly feral Iroh, especially when it comes to his nephew.

(omg omgomgomgommgggg fanart is like a proposal to me and I swear I’m rolling on the ground happily just thinking about it. But idk what scene I’d pick I really like people who create the fanart to pick because I like to see what they choose! Also you have a long way to go so maybe something will interest you?? I’m super excited either way!)

thanks for the ask I hope you enjoy reading!!

[reid-whump]

Send me whump/spencer Reid prompts please!!

[silvercap]

Forced to watch for the ask game? 👀 Thank you!

Sure!! (For this prompt list)

Forced to watch

"Can your friends in FOS hear you?" the man sneers as Leon stifles an agonized gasp, skinny hand twisting the knife he's jammed into the meat of Leon's thigh until fresh blood oozes forth, soaking into the torn fabric of his jeans. He reaches out to fist a hand in Leon's hair, leaving the blade in place. "Do they hear how pathetic you sound?"

Leon concentrates on keeping himself as quiet as he can, Hunnigan's keyboard typing frantically in his ear.

"I'm getting in contact with Chris, Leon. I can't legally send out a team, but he can if he knows the situation. We're going to find you, you hear me?" she says, a steady stream of soothing reassurances that Leon tries to anchor himself on as the man slaps him violently across the face and slams the knife deeper without warning. Leon can't stop a strangled sound, hating the falter in Hunnigan's voice when the noise carries through the mic attached to his comm. "Focus on your breathing, Leon, that's it."

"Well, tell them this," the skinny man continues, gleeful. "If they want their precious agent back, safe and sound, they'd better give me my demands. You know what they are, don't you, Hunnigan?" He leans back, reaching for another of his tools from the tray he's set out in an attempt at intimidation. Leon raises his head just long enough to see some sort of power tool, a long cord attached to the end of it. He presses it against Leon's upper arm with a grin.

"Hunnigan," Leon croaks, "turn off your comm. Don't--don't listen t' --"

He's cut off by a spike of agony in his bicep, pained moan impossible to hold back. The power tool makes a loud ka-chunk sound, a bead of blood forming around the steel nail Leon can see embedded in his skin when the man pulls it back again.

"I'm not going anywhere," Hunnigan says stubbornly, at the same time as the man sets his nail gun on a spot a few inches above Leon's uninjured knee.

"I had this baby amped up," he says conversationally. "Usually they don't go through skin as a safety thing, but I made a few adjustments."

Leon's entire body shudders when he presses down again, a whimper sneaking out from behind the lump in his throat as another nail shoots deep into his leg. The man isn't done, though--he pierces two more spots in quick succession, Leon's cries harder and harder to hold back with every click. He pants as the man pats his head, chest heaving. His trembling fingers ache where they've already been broken one-by-one, nails removed with surgical precision. Sweat stings his eyes.

"Hunnigan," he pleads.

"I'm not going to let you go through this alone," she insists, though Leon can hear the shake in her voice. "I'm here for you, remember?"

"I hope she's enjoying this," the man goads, jamming a fourth nail into Leon's thigh for good measure. Leon chokes.

"Sh--she's not listening," he tries, voice slightly more dazed than he'd hoped. "She turned it off."

"Ha!"

The man jams the nail gun into Leon's hip without hesitation, a ragged scream tearing out from between his lips. He shudders against the ropes holding him in place, unable to even protest when the man lifts his chin with a hand.

"Hang in there," Hunnigan says miserably. "It'll be okay, Leon, we're going to get you out."

"Tell her what I want them to give me," the man orders in a low voice. His eyes gleam. The muzzle of the nail gun comes to rest under Leon's collarbone, a dangerous weight. "Or the next one goes into your lung."

[sysig]

Lose myself to you (Patreon)

[to-the-all-blue]

“Run?” With a rapid twist of the wrist, Zoro flicked the blade. A line of red cut across the golden fibers in the opulent carpeting. “I’m not done with you yet.”

So I read Sabaody Shambles by CoffeeTimeWorks on the plane last night and have not known peace since coming into contact with this bad ass Zoro moment.

[whumpflash]

Ashes, Ashes 7: Family Reunion

for Angstpril, Day 23: Failure

cw: knife whump aftermath, death mention

prev ///// masterlist /////

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The gashes scattered along the left side of his body still burned when the little sister came padding down the stairs. Rhys wasn't used to that; normally the worst of the sting was gone within minutes, not hours. He'd known something was up when Blue Eyes came downstairs with a knife he could smell the magic on, and the pain it had caused was…

(No. Don't say 'unlike anything you've experienced'. She'll just give you something new tomorrow anyway.)

…Not fun.

He was glad the little one, Nyra, had decided to pay him another visit. It meant his hope of acquiring her help wasn't entirely lost. The little show he'd put on—claiming he'd given up, admitting his helplessness—seemed to have gone a long way in pulling at her sympathies. Whether Blue Eyes agreed to her pleas to let him go or not didn't matter; as long as the self-proclaimed scientist thought he'd given up, an escape would be within reach.

He hoped the opportunity would come sooner rather than later, though. His shoulders were cramping from having his arms restrained behind him all the time, and the chill of the basement was starting to get to him. Not to mention the new horrors Blue Eyes would undoubtedly come up with as the days went on.

Rhys curled up on himself again once Nyra had disappeared up the stairs. Dreamseeking was difficult right now, but it would only get harder with every passing day. Blue Eyes gave him food and water, but the portions were human-sized, not designed to fuel a dragon's healing factor. He knew he'd only get weaker from here. More distracted. If he was going to send a distress signal, it would have to be now.

Dreamseeking was as ancient as the dragons themselves. A way to locate other dragons, to seek allies, hold meetings, meet with friends, all without leaving the peaceful solitude of one's cave, or the familiarity of one's clan. Under normal circumstances, reaching out to his siblings would be easy. He'd known them from hatching, he knew how to find them in a dream.

But Rhys didn't have his totem anymore. Trying to find a specific dragon was like taking a spoonful of sand from the beach and hoping you found a gold coin.

Almost impossible. Virtually pointless. 

(But it's the only option I have.)

He closed his eyes, and with great effort, cast his consciousness into the void.

It was like soaring through an empty sky, so high he couldn't see anything on the earth below, so high he could hardly breathe. (The closest thing I've had to flying for real in years.)

Rhys couldn't see anything ahead, in any direction. Without a totem, he was flying blind, praying that a miracle happened and he just-so-happened to bump into another dragon. At this point, he'd take any dragon.

Projecting out a signal, calling for his broodmates, took more concentration, more energy, but he tried anyway. Hoping against hope that his cry would find Carys, or Seren, or Rhiannon, or Emyr—

Brother.

A low voice echoed in his head, and he nearly dropped his concentration completely in surprise, the feeling like tumbling from the sky, but he caught himself, propelling onwards with a greater speed.

"I'm here!" he called out. "I'm here, I–I'm in trouble."

It was hard to place who the voice belonged to. When was the last time any of them had spoken?

Remain where you are.

He stopped, phantom wings cracking down against the air, though he knew his body was still that of a human's.

A speck appeared in the distance, steadily growing, splitting in two as it drew closer. Two. Two dragons, two allies—

A huge scarlet dragon, bigger than he'd ever had the chance to get, closed in on him, a slightly smaller orange one following behind.

"A-Anwen?" Rhys said. "Is that you?"

"Rhys," the scarlet one angled her head in acknowledgement, and he found himself grinning.

"Hells, you've grown! Bet Carys doesn't pick on you anymore."

He watched as his sister's form began to shrink and shift, shaping itself into that of a human female, her long red hair as bright as her scales had been. His heart sank when he saw her expression was more austere than joyful.

"And is that Rhiannon?" he said, brushing it off. Even if his siblings weren't happy to see him, they wouldn't let him remain a captive. He told himself he'd request a subtle extraction. Give the hunting girls a scare, but not hurt anyone. He didn't even need to come home, he just wanted to get back to freedom.

The orange dragon followed Anwen's lead, shifting into the form of a human male with a fiery beard and long, braided hair.

"It's Aled, now," his sibling said, wearing the same stony expression as their sister. "It's been a long time, Rhys."

"It… it has."

"And after all these years, why are you reaching out to us?" Anwen said, hovering closer to him. "You said you were in trouble?"

"Yes! Yes, I—"

"I see, you want to speak to us because you need something. How… typical."

"No, I mean, yes, I've missed you guys, but you have no idea how hard it is without a totem to—"

"You seem to have managed," Aled cut in. Where Anwen had gotten closer, his brother had hung back, arms crossed over his chest.

"Because I had no choice," Rhys protested. "I've wanted to talk to you all for years, and I've tried, but it never worked."

"Mm," Anwen hummed, raising an eyebrow. "How strange it only works when you are in need. Worry not, I take no offense. You may have bruised the feelings of others in the brood, but I have had no desire to speak to you."

Rhys tried to hide the way that comment stung. "Then tell those others I wish I could've said something."

"Perhaps." She rubbed her temple, and Rhys found himself doubting she'd even mention him to the others.

"So tell us, brother. What is it you need? What trouble have you gotten into this time?"

"I was caught by hunters," Rhys said. "I'm being held prisoner."

That got through to Aled, who at least looked concerned, but his sister seemed unmoved.

"Held prisoner? Then they haven't found a way to kill you yet, is that it?"

"No, they—"

"Have they been trying?"

"They've been trying to find my weaknesses. Our weaknesses." He took a breath, glancing at the endless sky below him. "One of them has been hurting me."

"You aren't too hurt to Dreamseek. Is it really all that bad?"

Anwen's callous words cut worse than Blue Eyes' knife. Couldn't she see he was serious? That this was more than a call to get him out of a petty argument or responsibility?

"They… they're going to kill me," Rhys said. "When they're done. I know it."

"And what would you have us do?" Anwen spread her arms wide. "Burn your prison to the ground?" She shook her head. "Nothing will ever be burned again on your behalf. You've caused our clan enough grief as it is."

"No, no, I don't need that," he said, the words tumbling out of him almost too fast to be coherent. "Just— just come get me. In human form, just tell them who you are, and they'll let me go. Please."

"And risk bringing hunters down on our family?" It was Aled speaking now. "We cannot."

"Am I not your family?" Tears threatened to form in his eyes, and he blinked them back furiously. "I–I don't need some grand rescue, I just want help. Even just one of you should be enough. Please. I don't— I know they'll kill me. I don't want to die—"

"I'm certain the humans of Crosswood Falls didn't want to die either. Goodbye, brother." Anwen's form distorted and grew, shifting back into that of a dragon, and she turned to fly away without another word.

His brother lingered behind, an almost sad look on his face. "We cannot help you, Rhys. Your choice was made twenty years ago," he said, then followed Anwen. And though Rhys did his best to chase after them, screaming their names, he wasn't fast enough without his wings.

He was groggy, coming up from the sky void, and the effort had left him with a massive headache. There were tears trailing down his cheeks, more building in his eyes. 

And as he stared at the concrete walls that caged him in, he couldn't find it in him to hold them back.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @hold-back-on-the-comfort

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

*laughs nervously* haha fuck. I made Zoom way too powerful

And am now questioning the entire fic

[personinthepalace]

I SENT THE ASK TO SOON I MEAN IM GOING FERAL ABOUT LOCKWOOD AND CO because I’d never even heard about it until you started talking about it but omg it looks like the kind of books I would’ve absolutely devoured as a kid and the gifs are killing me and I want to watch the show but also I will become completely unhinged if I do but really I don’t think that’s a bad thing

please please please go watch the show!!! (mainly bc I want someone to gush about the show to haha) but also bc it's so good!!! This first season is based off of the first two books in the series so there are some things that are cut out/changed but overall it is great and maintains the spirit of the book series so well!! If you want teens sword fighting ghosts in between growing together as a found family and fighting the government, definitely go check out the show and the books!! Also there is quite a lot of whump in the show which I think you will enjoy :)

So yeah it definitely won't be a bad thing if you check out the show (and the books too!!). If you do watch it, let me know what you think of it :)