#academic whump

[chaotic-orphan]

Academic Whump

Because why not? >:)

*~*~*~*~*

Academic Rival looked hero up and down, gaze like shattered glass cutting into hero. Hero knew if Rival could draw blood with their stare, Hero would be bleeding out on the ground right now.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, Hero,” Rival said stepping closer. Hero stepped back, back hitting the wall with a stifled gasp huffed out their nose as they tried to not look intimidated by Rival. “God knows your poor brain can barely scrape by.”

“Still sore about Professor Sagacious’s apprenticeship? Honestly, Rival. I’d say jealousy looks good on you, but I know how much you hate liars.”

Rival flashed a toothy grin. That was all Hero saw before the wind was knocked out of them and they were bent double, looking at the hardwood floor and gasping lungfuls of air. Rival grabbed them by the collar of their shirt and righted Hero against the wall.

When Hero was righted, Rival smirked at them. “Oh I’m sorry, Hero. You okay there?”

Hero narrowed their eyes a fraction, the air reaching their lungs better now that they were standing. They opened their mouth to reply, but Rival pressed their forearm across Hero’s chest pinning them against the wall. When Hero tried to push forward, Rival twisted their body and their elbow dug into Hero’s collarbone painfully.

“Always knew you were more brawn than brain,” Hero said with a breath. Rival flashed their toothy grin that promised pain. It came in the form of a closed fist angling an uppercut to Hero’s nose. Hero’s head slammed against the wall with the force of it and they cried out as warm blood gushed down their nose passed their lips and onto their chin.

“Motherfucker!” Hero hissed. Rival leaned in close and grabbed Hero’s cheeks in one hand, grip pinching and bruising and Hero realised slow, painfully slow that they couldn’t fight back. Their arms pinned useless under Rival’s weight holding them against the wall. Rival leaned in closer, Hero swallowed hard, trying to get their face away from them but they couldn’t go anywhere.

Was Rival about to kiss them? Like this? Hero didn’t want it. Their heart pounded against their chest as Rival stuck out their tongue and licked the blood from Hero’s chin up their lips and stopped at Hero’s upper lip.

Somehow that felt worse than if Rival would have just kissed them. A shudder ran down Hero’s spine when Rival pulled back, their tongue painted with Hero’s blood and they wanted to be sick.

“Red is your colour, Hero. You look so cute when you’re utterly powerless against me,” Rival said releasing Hero’s cheeks and leaning their lips closer to Hero’s ears and they whispered: “but you’d look absolutely stunning under me.”

Something instinctual snapped like a rubber band in Hero and suddenly they were aware of everything in their body. Their hands. Their breath. Their blood drumming in their ears. They world was starting to cave in and get bigger all at once. They had to get out of here.

“Rival. Is there a reason you’re keeping my lab partner against the wall?”

Hero’s wide eyes went to Nemesis who stood at the top of the stairs. Rival looked up too and grinned, but they stepped away from Hero, looking at Hero still they said to Nemesis: “no reason, no. I was just getting to know the new genius in town.”

Nemesis was descending the stairs slowly looking between the two, hands languidly resting in their trouser pockets. Their permanent glare on Rival, and then when they looked at Hero it seemed as if their eye’s softened a fraction.

But Nemesis hated Hero, they would never feel sorry for them.

“Well don’t get caught. For whatever reason, Headmaster Argute is rather fond of the resident idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Hero ground out and Nemesis’s cool, grey eyes shot a deadpan look at Hero.

“You risked your life to save a plebeian from the noose,” Nemesis said, voice measured with every word. That was all they said, however, and Hero frowned at them.

“A life is a life. They were innocent,” Hero argued, and Nemesis cocked an eyebrow as if to say: point proven.

“Doesn’t matter,” Nemesis shrugged, putting a hand on Rival’s shoulder and pushing them forward and away from Hero. “We’re not being taught how to be heroes. Next time you want to rebel against the system, make sure you’re not in our uniform.”

“My family is Plebeian you dick. They’re not all beyond saving. Just because you come from a background of elitist pricks!”

Nemesis’s glare burned this time. Burned Hero no matter what they were. Where Hero’s passion was fire, Nemesis’s logic was ice and freezing Hero to the spot.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Nemesis shrugged. “You’re here. You’re one of us, and you brought the council’s eyes on our school.”

Hero scoffed, and said: “Scared of a fucking council?”

“This is why you’re an idiot,” Nemesis sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. “If you were smart you’d be afraid of them too. What they can do. Who they have in their pockets. Your act of foolish Heroism puts us all in danger.”

“Good,” Hero spat, wiping at their nose. Hand coming away bloody. “It’s about time people like you were scared. I was born scared. I grew up scared. Dot my I’s and crossing my T’s out of fear. Welcome to the party, pal.”

Nemesis’s expression fixed back into a bored kind of neutrality, “I’d like to decline the invitation, but thanks all the same.” They put a hand on Rival’s shoulder and steered them down the hall.

“Be seeing ya, Hero,” Rival said over their shoulder with a horrible grin.

As they walked Hero heard Nemesis say to Rival: “this is what happens when they let the rabble into education. They get ideas.”

[callaei-researches]

Summary of results - Intercultural and cross-linguistic perspectives on the whump genre

Here is a summary of the results from the research thesis, "Intercultural and cross-linguistic perspectives on the whump genre"! This was part of my studying a Master of Contemporary International Studies. The research aimed to explore how whump-interested people connect with the whump genre cross-culturally and cross-linguistically.

Back in June/July this year (2023), I sent out a questionnaire open to any whump-interested person, and also invited interviews for bilingual whump-interested people. I've finally finished my thesis, and overall was awarded an A- for it!

The full thesis is available now to read on Academia.edu, and will also be available on IPU New Zealand's library website in January 2024.

The research isn't available on Academia.edu or IPU New Zealand library website anymore, however you can access it via Google Drive here!

This research was approved for Human Research Ethics Clearance by the IPU New Zealand Research and Development Commitee on 3rd May 2023 (HREC-2023-05-03-01).

----

(NB: Due to there being an extensive amount of results, I've only summarised the key findings of the results section and a brief conclusion here. I've referenced page numbers for the full thesis if you'd like to read the extended version.)

-----

Summary of results (Questionnaire)

233 respondents | 92 different cultural/faith-based identities

The questionnaire was used to answer Research Question 1, "How do the aspects of Hofstede’s cultural dimensions and Schwartz’ universal human values reflect in the characteristics of whump genre identity?"

The questionnaire explored four themes associated with whump genre concepts - “agency,” “comfort,” “stoicism,” and “knowledge” - and found (p. 87):

For the theme of “agency,” questionnaire participants tended to perceive a greater importance for agency for the caretaker and whumper roles. This may be related to the caretaker and whumper role characters’ abilities to carry out their roles of caretaking and whumping respectively. While the cultural dimensions did not appear to be factors inherent to the theme of agency for the whumpee role in a whump genre story, this appeared to work towards supporting the cross-cultural enjoyment of whump. For the theme of “comfort,” hurt comfort, physical comfort and long-term recovery may be more accommodating of cultural dimension dynamics and have a greater capacity to fully realise the goals of Schwartz’ values. For the theme of “stoicism,” the way in which these dimensions can so diversely be applied to this theme suggests a cross-culturally applicable ground. For the theme of “knowledge,” the balance between the certainty of a known whumpee and the uncertainty of an unknown whumper indicate variable tolerance of ambiguity within the whump genre. This suggests a cross-culturally applicable ground.

The full results section for the questionnaire can be read in the full thesis (pp. 61-87).

-----

Summary of results (Interview)

31 interviewees (15 spoken, 16 written) | 24 different languages

The interview was used to answer Research Question 2, "How do bilingual whump-interested people perceive the ability to convey themes of hurt comfort (a subgenre of whump) in different languages?"

The interview questions were categorised into themes:

Theme 1: Preferences for language when interacting with fiction

Theme 2: Comparisons of different languages’ abilities to convey physical and emotional pain

Theme 3: Limitations or difficulties experienced when conveying whump in, and across, different languages

Theme 4: Cultural, social, and/or linguistic reasons influencing pronunciation of “whump”

Following transcription of the interviews, a thematic analysis involving examining code co-occurences found (p. 123):

For “Theme 1: Preferences for language when interacting with fiction,” preferences tended to be associated with the availability of media, the ability to connect with the author’s intended meaning, and the level of ease and comfort with which interviewees could engage with the fictional media. For “Theme 2: Comparisons of different languages’ abilities to convey physical and emotional pain,” interviewees’ comparisons highlighted differing ways of presenting and conveying pain in language, for example, through language features and words. Overall, interviewees felt that the languages which they were fluent in were generally equally capable of conveying physical and emotional pain, although different languages tended to approach the communicating of pain in different ways. For “Theme 3: Limitations or difficulties experienced when conveying whump in, and across, different languages,” the perceived limitations and difficulties experienced across languages tended to be associated with difficulties in conveying semantic, pragmatic and cultural meaning across languages, and tended to stem from the differences between sociolinguistic approaches to communicating ideas in languages. For “Theme 4: Cultural, social, and/or linguistic reasons influencing pronunciation of “whump,” common cultural, social and linguistic reasons for interviewees’ pronunciations of “whump” included how interviewees expected the word to sound based on their expectations of the letters in the phonological environment, the impact of a lack of having heard the word spoken aloud, sociocultural influences, intuition and language education.

The full results section for the interview can be read in the full thesis (pp. 61-87). Interview transcripts (sensitive details filtered out) can be read in Appendix H (pp. 177-399).

-----

Conclusions (brief exerpt from p. 130)

Research Question 1 explored cross-culturally applicable aspects of the whump genre. The findings suggested that themes of the whump genre accommodate variations in cultural social orientations and values, thereby enabling an interculturally common ground among whump-interested people.

Using qualitative research (interview), Research Question 2 explored how bilingual whump-interested people perceive and connect with hurt comfort themes across different languages. The findings suggest that multiple factors contribute to how bilingual whump-interested people engage with the whump genre, including but not limited to first and second languages as a tool to experience closely or otherwise distance the subject with, the availability of whump media in different languages, and manner of conveying aspects of pain and comfort through lexical, phonetic, grammatical and cultural aspects of language.

----

Thank you to everyone who participated in the research - the questionnaire and/or the interview! Your voices are all important in this kind of research, and are all very much appreciated!

[whumpprentice]

Huge fan of established rivalries / feuds where they hate each other's guts but one of them is so obviously unwell even their sworn rival is like no never mind you're clearly going through enough as it is

[chaotic-scraps]

The Green Scarf

CW: blood, head wound, hospitalization

Gerard kept a brisque pace in the snow-covered sidewalk, the frigid air colder still as the sun sank into the horizon. It was hardly the time to dawdle, but something in the air seemed not quite right, almost sinister in its unnatural silence.

It was then his eye caught the little droplets of red scattered in the snow, leading up the steps to the main school building. Probably nothing, he told himself. Best keep moving.

He heard a soft whimper.

Reluctantly Gerard ascended the steps to a small bush, behind which lay a prone figure, face-down and much too motionless.

That scarf.

He'd know that obnoxious green scarf anywhere.

"Blair?"

His heart thrummed in his chest. He gently rolled the body over. Blair. The absolute thorn in his side since day one of university.

He shook him briskly.

"Blair!"

Scoff.

"I should leave you like this after the way you embarrassed me yesterday," Gerard said aloud, mostly to himself. "Serves you right."

No response. It settled like a lead weight in his stomach.

Blair's skin was much too gray, much too dull. His breathing, much too weak.

Red... Pooling from the back of his head. He wrapped Blair's stupid scarf around the wound.

He checked his radial pulse. Faint.

Gerard groaned and glanced around for anyone to shove this responsibility onto.

No one. Of course not.

"Blair. BLAIR." He patted his cheek insistently. "Wake up. I am NOT carrying you."

Why wasn't Blair wearing gloves? Or a coat? Where'd he get that head wound?

That wasn't his business, Gerard decided. Well beyond his business.

His rival getting hypothermia, on the other hand...

He called emergency services.

"High than normal call volume. Wait time is 2 hours--"

He screamed a curse.

Moving Blair proved tricky. Not just the dead weight, but he had no way to determine if there was a neck injury on top of the head injury. The stairs would also be tricky.

He needed something to drag him with, and there was really only one thing that would do.

"You'll owe me BIG for this," he grumbled, pulling off his overcoat. He rolled Blair onto the overcoat unceremoniously and began dragging him down the stairs. The snow kept bunching into piles, slowing the forward pull. The cold made Gerard's teeth chatter, and he kept muttering curses with each merciless gust of wind.

He reached his apartment and threw open the door, snowflakes scattering across the front entry. With one final pull Blair was in, and he kicked his legs out of the way to slam the door shut.

"God, even when you're unconscious, you're still trouble," Gerard grumbled, turning on a space heater with shaking hands.

He felt Blair's pulse. Weak, but still there. He assessed the head wound. The bleeding seemed to have slowed. His hands were cold. Gerard pulled him near the space heater and bundled him in a blanket.

With little other option, he gathered first aid supplies. Antiseptic on the head wound, proper dressing.

The warmth was bringing color back to Blair's cheeks. Gerard's eyes pricked with tears, and he picked up Blair's cold hand in his.

"You'll be okay," he muttered. "You'll be back to that obnoxiously chattery self in no time, right? I'd better enjoy the silence while I can."

He laughed at himself for that, and quickly wiped away a hot tear.

A voice in his pocket broke the silence, and he quickly dropped the hand.

"Emergency services. What is the nature and location of your emergency?"

Oh. Right. He'd been on hold. He picked up the phone and explained the situation to the best of his ability, a bit flustered.

Emergency services arrived. Gerard rode with him, because wasn't that the right thing to do?

Blair came to about an hour later.

"Blair!" Gerard started towards him.

A moment of relief cut short.

"Gerard?" Blair spat, a note of disgust.

"Oh, shut up," Gerard grumped. Sat back.

"What the hell are you doing here? And-- wait, is this the hospital?!"

"Well, it's not the morgue," Gerard snapped.

"Why the hell did you ATTACK ME?!"

"Me? ME?!" Gerard held back the urge to strangle Blair. "I just dragged your sorry ass across town, and you're blaming ME?!"

Blair felt the back of his head. "Well, SOMEONE hit my head!"

"It'll be me soon if you don't drop the attitude," Gerard growled. "I didn't do it. I hate your guts, but I would never stoop that low."

"You wouldn't?" Blair quirked his brow skeptically.

"You're so much cuter when you're concussed," Gerard grumbled.

Chattering down the hall.

"Your friends are here," Gerard said. "Maybe ask one of them who had enough of your bull."

He stood to leave, but Blair caught his wrist.

"No. Wait. You really didn't do it?" Blair searched his eyes. "What d'you mean, you dragged me across town?"

Gerard yanked at his wrist. "Let go," he said.

"You brought me here?"

He didn't want to meet Blair's eyes.

"You really brought me to the hospital?"

"You were in front of the school," Gerard didn't answer. Didn't meet his eyes. "Just... Did what anyone would do."

"Yeah. Okay." Blair let go. "...Okay."

"Get better soon, asshole," Gerard said. He stormed out just as the group of well-wishers rushed in.

Arrived home. Realized Blair's stupid green scarf was still on the floor of his apartment.

Blair would definitely come back for it.

He kicked it across the room in frustration. Then proceeded to wash it in cold water.

//AN Sorry for not posting much this last week! I've been struggling to write and not really happy with anything, but I felt I should try to post something. Anyway, I hope you're all doing all right in the New Year. Thank you so much for reading!!!

[becomingvecna]

❝ I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love. ❞

— Sylvia Plath

[kohakhearts]

it’s wip wednesday and its been a while since ive shared anything from the shigegou epic(tm) (its 50k now and officially my longest single-chapter fanfic Ever (which if youve been around long enough you know is a big deal! for the veterans: ratc previously held this record (6.5 years the champion!)) but it just keeps going </3). they’re arguing(?) about the kitchen chairs now so the plot is really plotting! yeah! good job, me!

“It’s been five years.”

He screws his eyes shut tight. “I know that. You think I don’t think about it? But none of those things would be doing me any good here, or I would’ve taken those books out of the boxes a long time ago. I just…I just never bothered.”

“Never said that.” A pause, and then: “I really doubt this kitchen table only came with one chair. Where are the other ones?”

Goh cracks open his eyes in order to follow his gaze. “Uh, storage. It’s in the basement. But why do you—?”

“Great. Let me put my shoes back on. I’ll help ya bring ‘em up.”

By the time Gary’s words register, he is halfway out the door. Goh reaches for his arm, gripping hard. When Gary glances back at him, all he can manage to say is, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping you bring your kitchen chairs up from storage. Thought I made that obvious.”

“Not what I meant.”

“Obviously.” Gary lifts his free hand and pries Goh’s off of his arm. “If you want to kick me out, by all means. But if not, then I’d at least like a place to sit. Not too much to ask for, is it?”

“But—why? What do you gain from that?”

“Satisfaction. Now, stop standing there gawking at me and let’s go. You’re gonna have to lead the way here.”

That’s not an answer, but maybe he has a point. Goh doesn’t want to kick him out; an extra chair or two isn’t the end of the world.

[ofsmokenandgold]

It would appear that I have an Athos/Aramis story in me. I've always wanted to write a modern Academic AU and never had the cast for it - so now I do. Not sure if it will be a series or a one off, but it is in progress. Lots of Aramis!whump, of course.

For anyone waiting on the next chapter of Shaw/Rios, that is also in progress, so much Shaw!angst in that one.

This is the first time I've been able to write in two different fandoms at the same time - I don't think I need to explain why.

[thegreatyin]

realized i said this and never elaborated.

fellas. fellas we are at "describes their past self as an entirely separate person that they violently hate and need to see wiped from existence at all costs but also upon seeing her* exist as a separate entity they break down crying doing whatever she wants even if that includes killing them on the spot and even when they get their mojo back all they can think about is how beautiful she looked even when she was actively trying to end their life but also a minute later they still insist she's horrible and they want her scorched off the face of the earth" levels of crisis. fellas they are combusting.

*not really her. it's complicated.

how is the vampire Frankenstein thing goin

the scoundrel needs therapy.

like

desperately. we've gone well beyond "really dire" and we are now solidly in the "holy shit, ouch" zone

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Snitches Get Stitches- part 3

Part 2

Once Hero was stable again, Supervillain took a seat by their bedside.

“What happened, Hero?” they asked.

Hero gulped, casting a quick glance at Villain, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

“Um, I had a nightmare,” Hero lied.

“A nightmare?” Supervillain repeated.

“Y-yes, about who hurt me…”

Supervillain, Henchman, Medic, and Villain exchanged glances.

“Have you thought about telling me now?” Supervillain asked.

Hero nodded.

“I-it was a vigilante,” they said, trying to keep their voice even, “I don’t know their name.”

“What did they look like?” Henchman asked.

Hero froze. They hadn’t prepared for this part. Villain stared them down.

“Um, they had blond hair and a scar on their left eye,” they said slowly.

More glances between the teammates.

“Okay,” Supervillain said.

They nodded to the door, and the rest of the team filed out. Hero watched them go nervously. They looked up at Supervillain.

“Rest,” they said, taking the handcuff off of Hero’s wrist, “don’t try to leave yet.”

Supervillain closed the med bay door behind them and walked off with the rest of the team.

“So, they’re lying right?” Medic asked.

“Obviously,” Supervillain said.

“What’s the plan then?”

“To the boardroom,” Supervillain answered, “we have a lot to talk about.”

…

Everyone filed into the room where all of their schemes and plans were made.

“So far we know two things,” Supervillain said, “Hero was stabbed in the side, and they came to us for help.”

“But they aren’t letting us help them very much,” Henchman huffed.

“Who says they aren’t?” Villain asked, “how do we know they were lying at all? Have we even considered that this vigilante might be real?”

Medic gave Villain an incredulous look.

“Seriously? Hero is the worst liar ever- didn’t you see their face?”

“They’re clearly traumatized from the attack, that’s all,” Villain said.

Supervillain looked up at Villain. The pieces clicked together all too neatly in their head.

“Why did you do it?” Supervillain demanded.

Henchman and Medic gave Supervillain puzzled looks.

“Sorry?” Villain laughed.

“Why did you attack Hero?”

Villain’s gaze hardened.

“Because you’ve all gone soft for them. Too soft. They’re pathetic, they’re our enemy, and you’ve all been treating them as though they’re just a rival on the academic team!”

When no one spoke, Villain went on.

“You’re always babying them, pulling your punches, letting them have free reign over the city. And then- then! When I finally go in to get rid of them, they survive, and you pansies actually take them in instead of finishing them off!”

Villain’s quiet tone had risen to a sadistic, rageful volume. They started to laugh.

“I made it so easy for you! So easy! Yet they’re in our med bay instead of a coffin! I ought to-”

A punch to the jaw had Villain crumpling to the floor, out cold. Supervillain wiped the blood from their fist.

“Henchman, take Villain down to the containment cell,” Supervillain said, their voice an icy calm, “Medic, go to Hero. Don’t leave them alone for a second.”

Henchman and Medic nodded. Henchman hoisted Villain over their shoulder roughly, while Medic headed back to the med bay. Supervillain willed themselves to calm down. How could they have been so stupid? So blind? Their own teammate…

Former teammate, Supervillain amended.

Hero wasn’t going to have to deal with them again, Supervillain would make sure of it. They headed down to the containment cell after Henchman.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Redbubble

Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm@memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit @telltaletoad @bacillusinfection @noseyowes @whump-till-ya-jump

@starfields08000 @bluesoulpeace @altvaggie @nvrmorrrrr @leblanced27 @crotchgoblin69 @qualityrabbitsoup

[renewedmotionforjudgment]

Huan Zhu Ge Ge (还珠格格), explained

Vox, don’t sue me for using this title.

Background: the other night, I suddenly had the OST stuck in my head. And I amaze my self by able to somehow sing the entire soundtrack?

Anyways, for those who either grew up in mainland China in the 90s or part the Chinese diaspora, Huan Zhu Ge Ge, princess returning pearl, was probably the OG idol historical. It’s adapted from a Qiong Yao novel. Huge hit across Asia. Influenced a whole generation.

Background plot — Xiao Yan Zi is a street orphan who met a girl named Zi Wei. Zi Wei turned out to be the daughter of Qian Long. Xiao Yan Zi accidentally gets mistaken as Zi Wei, takes on the title of princess, and hijinks ensues.

Tagging @huanzhuyulu for additions.

Anyways, this is Xiao Yan Zi

Perky, spunky, not super smart academically, and with a heart of gold. You know that female lead in idol cdramas these days? Xiao Yan Zi was the prototype. But also, she’s hilarious about Chinese proverbs.

This is Zi Wei

The prototype Ruby Lin character. I found Zi Wei rather corny when I was 7, TBH. Angsty back story involving being the unknown illegitimate daughter of the emperor, and then later getting whumped/tortured repeatedly by the empress.

This is the 5th Prince, Yong Qi

The emperor’s favorite son. The guy you thought would be the next emperor until you read anything about history. Smart and earnest. Xiao Yan Zi’s love interest.

(My first ever OTP!)

This is Fu Er Kang

Qian Long’s bodyguard. Zi Wei’s love interest. Done with Xiao Yan Zi and Yong Qi’s nonsense since episode 3 of season 1. He and Zi Wei had a lot of angsty moments that 7 years old me definitely was not into.

This is Jin Suo (on the right)

Zi Wei’s maid and BFF. Doubter of Xiao Yan Zi’s antics. Honestly not sure what personality she has other than “Fan Bing Bing is really pretty!”

This is Qian Long

Huang Ah Ma! The drama is Qian Long’s best publicist. Somehow manage to perv on women and threaten to off his kids, and is jovial enough that you spend your childhood going “what a loving father!”

This is Ling Fei

Yes, the same Ling Fei as Wei Yingluo from Yanxi. Super nice and motherly. The reason why my brain could not compute Ruyi for the longest time.

IN SUMMARY:

(Sorry, Er Tai — I don’t have enough GIF space to introduce you. Ditto, Qing Er. )

[chaotic-orphan]

Brain: we have some downtime, we should work on our WIPS

Me: *Does not look at all my other WIPs*… new idea just dropped

Brain: but our WIPs

Me: already working on new idea ahuh yeah, I know, this one first

Okay, just a disclaimer at the start of this. I am currently studying law, which is crazy because I have seen other Whump authors of note who also study law so guys I think we have a type and can be weeded out. Anyways, unimportant, but I want to do a whumpy legal series that will satisfy and combine my two loves.

Honestly knowing me, will it be a series or an orphaned WIP who knows! Anyways, enjoyyyy~

*~*~*~*~*

Lawyer was happy that Senior Partner of the Firm had given them this new case. To be fair, Partner was the one that recruited Lawyer to the firm to begin with, so it made sense that they would want Lawyer to do well. Partner would help them get the good cases, and Lawyer would win them to impress the members of the board.

This was just how it went in the legal ecosystem. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.

Lawyer had recruited Paralegal who had been making eyes at them ever since their hire to help them with the cases and over the time they spent together behind the scenes, they had become a good team.

Lawyer knew more law than Paralegal, and Paralegal helped to bring Lawyer back down to the real world when their brain worked overtime and went too far intellectually. Paralegal knew more about how the administrative process worked, telling Lawyer exactly what forms to file and by when, going back and forth with opposing counsels Paralegals and all in all, they were a good team.

Lawyer was feeling good about their career.

Until the first day in court of one particular case.

It was only going to be Lawyer, the judge and opposing counsel. Lawyer was a little less happy about impressing a smaller audience but it didn’t really matter that the hearing would be short and intimate.

It was simple matter, just a filing for another company’s books and business logs before entering into a business relationship.

Paralegal told them that this kind of thing was normal in the process, that most of what Lawyer had to learn was how things actually worked as opposed to how Lawyer thought they should work.

Lawyer told Paralegal that the two should be synonymous, which made Paralegal laugh and roll their eyes. It made a little light bloom in Lawyers chest and they had a certain pep in their step as they walked into the courthouse.

They met Judge outside, smiling and shaking their hand, and thanking them for their time in presiding over the hearing.

“You really are new, aren’t you?” Judge said, a derisive snort to their words even though their expression remained pleasant.

“Yes your Honour.”

“Partner’s new one, right? Lawyer?”

“Partner must speak highly of me. I’ve told them to stop singing my praises,” said Lawyer with a charming smile and even got Judge to laugh.

“One would hope, Lawyer,” Judge said. Very neutral and friendly and respectful, everything a judge should be. Just warm enough to be civil, just cold enough to not cross that professional boundary. Judge looked at their watch on their wrist, so Lawyer did as well.

It wasn’t anything flashy which momentarily stunned and short circuited Lawyer’s brain. It was simple, analog, with a worn and ragged strap hanging by a thread to keep it together.

Old.

Poor.

Not designer at all, and Lawyer acted like they didn’t see a thing. Just stored that information away for another time.

“Do you know opposing counsel?” Judge asked conversationally and Lawyer shook their head, the pair looking at the Courthouse’s steps.

“I’m afraid not. My Paralegal was helping me with their correspondence.”

Judge raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. Then their eyes crinkled and something about them looked homely for a minute, before they said: “they are the favourite in their firm, Lawyer. Maybe a couple years your senior. They won’t let the case go.”

Lawyer’s smile stayed on. “Your Honour that only makes me want to win more.”

Judge smiled, and inside Lawyer felt the same relief when they submitted an assignment or aced an exam. As if they had passed some test that Judge had left for them with their words.

Judge’s eyes caught something Lawyer didn’t and they smiled politely at the Courthouse’s door. “Ah, Rival. Punctual as ever.”

Lawyer’s blood ran cold but they fought to keep the smile on their face and remain unaffected and detached. Their heart gave them away. It was hammering against their ribs, threatening to crack them in two, kicking in Lawyer’s adrenaline for fight or flight as they followed Judge turning away from them to face their opposing Counsel.

“Please, Judge,” that cool voice said with it’s low lilting rumble. “That’s what watches are for. I am simply on time, I wasn’t aware of a party beforehand.”

Lawyer’s eyes went to Rival’s as he extended a hand to shake with Judge and greet them as politely and clinical as was usual in greetings.

Rival looked… annoyingly immaculate.

His face a portrait of sharp angles not even an artist could perfect, but an architect or an engineer in the sheer precision it would require. His hair was from a model’s catalogue, long, but not going past their shoulders and be bold. Just enough to be on trend and add a bit of fashion to the industry. The same with his stubble that lined his jaw evenly and gave him a more intimidating look.

When his green eyes settled on Lawyer it was with that same aggravatingly knowing look that he always knew more than Lawyer ever did. That he was always one step ahead In whatever he set his mind to, or against.

Lawyer was the one to offer their hand first, their charming smile still oozing confidence to any passer by walking past the large windows of the courthouse.

It would have been perfect.

If it wasn’t Rival who was looking into them, who seemed to know what Lawyer was thinking or saying or doing before Lawyer did.

Rival took Lawyers hand. The moment they made contact Lawyer wished they hadn’t. It was as if Rival was hooking Lawyer up to a battery and trying to jumpstart something inside them that threatened to become destructive and dangerous. Trying to draw out the fear of the past, but Lawyer, to their own amazement, withstood the handshake and the pleasantries.

“Lawyer, look at you. All grown up.”

“I’ve heard some interesting things about you recently, Rival, you’ve done well for yourself.”

Lawyer wasn’t about to mention that the recent part of the news was two minutes ago but that could stay between Lawyer and Judge. Rival would never have to know.

Rival smiled though it’s edges were sharper than their cheekbones and said, “we should catch up after this. Have a few drinks.”

It wasn’t an offer.

Lawyer learned that the hard way.

Lawyer just smiled and dropped Rival’s hand. “Speaking of, shall we?”

Judge nodded and turned to the doors behind them, big heavy wooden doors. Old. Mahogany if Lawyer would have to guess, but Lawyer would only notice something so benign when they were trying to distract themselves from the rich cologne of Rival’s aftershave that was threatening to overwhelm them with its subtlety.

Courtroom three.

Small.

Quaint.

Fit for purpose.

Exactly what Paralegal had explained and told Lawyer of when they were talking about the case after a long day of work. Over food. Lawyers idea.

“I’d say it’ll be courtroom three, but maybe the Judge will just do it in their quarters, although… that’s not very official. Or usual.”

“Courtroom three then. Is it nice?”

Paralegal paused, chopsticks hovering loosely above their box of chow mein. “It’s very… austere.”

Lawyer almost pouted. Almost.

They walked to their desk, Rival walked to theirs and then the Judge disappeared into the Judge’s quarters to get their robe and official documents or whatever judges did in their quarters.

Lawyer set their briefcase down on the chair beside them, unzipping it and taking out their own files and paperwork.

They glanced over at Rival to see that he was already staring at Lawyer, eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. Rival was standing, file on the table, prepared and ready to work, briefcase on the ground beside their feet.

Lawyer glanced back at their own briefcase which was less fancy and more flimsy, and had to stop themselves from fixing its position and copying Rival’s set up.

They remained in silence, except for the occasional noise from the judge’s quarters and Lawyer wanted so badly to break it. To say something. Anything. Just to not deal with this stupid tension filled anticipation of nothing.

The worst part wasn’t the silence, though, it was Rival’s silence which was its own breed of torture. Colder than the arctic winds and harsher than a Russian Winter. What made it worse was that Lawyer could feel Rival’s twisted enjoyment of Lawyer’s suffering, literally suffering in silence.

It wasn’t a moment too soon when Judge emerged from their room into the court. Lawyer felt a sudden reassurance flood them that they never felt around Rival. As if they knew that Rival couldn’t do anything now, here, with Judge in the room and observing them both.

The battle ground that stretched from Lawyer’s side of the court to Rival’s felt more even, and suddenly Lawyer remembered why they were here, and all the work that had gone into getting them here.

All the time they had spent with Paralegal.

With Judge in the room, Lawyer’s easy confidence came back and they were suddenly Lawyer again, the Lawyer Partner had trusted with this case. The one that had to impress the board members of the firm. The one that had to prove to Paralegal that their work together wasn’t worthless that Lawyer could still be useful.

“I will begin this Hearing thusly,” said Judge with their professional judge’s voice that oozed authority, very different from their polite and civil manner. As soon as the robes went on Judge seized to be a person and became apart of the Legal Process that Paralegal had told Lawyer so much about. “Apologies for the peculiarity of today, I am recording this session as the Courthouse’s stenographer is currently in the Caribbean on his honeymoon. To which, we wish a heartfelt and sincere congratulations, Dave.”

Lawyer and Rival blinked up at Judge who smiled lavishly at the pair, a devilish kind of indulgence. “Dave has to listen back and record these meetings when he gets home. Dave, please strike all this from the record. Lovely man. Ahem, anyways…”

“It is August 7th of the Gregorian calendar year of 2023. The matter of today’s hearing is merely one of disclosure and discovery. The claimant, Company, wishes to see the books of the Defendant before they wish to proceed with their intention to create a contractual relationship with Defendants company. Are we all agreed?”

“Yes your honour,” they echoed back.

Judge looked to Lawyer then and nodded. “Counsel for the Claimant will present their case first.”

“Yes, Your Honour. The matter is clear cut and simple. It is as you presented succinctly. My client, Company, simply wishes to know who they are going into business with before any hands are shook or deals are signed.”

Judge nodded. Their eyes went to Rival then. “And the defence? Do you have any objections to the motion for discovery?”

“Yes your Honour.”

Lawyer frowned. Judge frowned. Lawyer glanced over at Rival then back to Judge. Judge nodded, though Lawyer noted the short rise and fall of their chest, as if they let out a quiet sigh. “Proceed.”

“Thank you, your Honour,” said Rival, quite politely with a humble nod of deference that Lawyer would have laughed at if someone else had done it. “My client, Defendant Company, has and always intends to conduct business on the basis of trust. They are a reputable business and operate how they have always operated. It is family founded, built and led, and it is simply the current owners way of honouring his father, and his father’s father before him.”

“Tradition is the reason to deny discovery to a potential business partner?” Judge asked, the dispassionate tone matching his look of subtle disapproval.

“Yes your honour.”

“Your Honour, if I may,” Lawyer chimed in and Judge didn’t stop them so they proceeded. “The rules of knowing your business partner before entering into relations is how business has been done for generations—“

Lawyer said pointedly glancing at Rival as they said it. “With today’s climate of uncertainty, my client thinks it is prudent to be prepared rather than have to face a caveat emptor situation whereby—“

“Objection, your honour. Caveat emptor isn’t relevant here. The product is not from a third party, it is the business relationship as a whole that is on offer here.”

Judge looked a bit annoyed but they shot Lawyer a glance that could almost be apologetic. “Objection sustained, Lawyer please reword your statement.”

Lawyer didn’t bristle. They remained calm and cool. Professional. “Of course your honour. I didn’t mean to invoke the doctrine of Caveat Emptor, more the principles of it. That the buyer beware of the exact business they are entering into should the relationship turn sour.”

Judge raised their eyebrows and turned their head to Rival.

“As the opposing counsel presented your honour, in today’s climate of business it is more essential than ever to create and enforce trust between business partners. I do not see why on a legal basis they have the right, or need, to look at my clients books as to whether or not they would like to enter into a business relationship.”

“Need I say that both businesses operate parallel in the economic biosphere of our city. What my client fears, and is reluctant to divulge,” Rival said, turning their head slightly inclining it towards Lawyer.

The movement was so small. So imperceptible, but it crushed Lawyers chest like an anvil falling on a piano. That was Rival’s tell, their victory lap, because they had already decided that they won.

“…is that the opposition’s client,” Rival continued, “Company, may decide against pursuing a business relationship at all with my client and take up business with another company. This will cause an unfair advantage for the claimants company, and upset the carefully curated social rules and governance of our city’s economy.”

Judge screwed their mouth up, and Lawyer knew they lost. It was as if Judge had put a pin in Lawyer’s ever present good mood.

This is the first time they lost and they were already swamped in grief without the gavel to signal the death. Because that’s what it felt like. Like Lawyer could see their entire career dying before them.

Thanks to Rival.

It had to be Rival.

They should have come more prepared. Stayed later, worked harder. They wasted Paralegal’s time, Jesus— shit! They still had to face Paralegal.

“With regards to the current situation of a potential business relationship going hypothetically awry, I will have to dismiss the motion for discovery in favour of the defendants objection.”

Judge looked at Lawyer when they spoke again, directing the words to them in earnest. “The law does not operate within hypotheticals and potentials, and it would be a significant error, and violation, of traditional business relations if I filed to accept your motion on behalf of your client, As there is no legal basis to file for this motion, I rule this request as denied. Thank you counsel.”

“Your Honour,” Rival said immediately with a nod.

Lawyer said it a beat after, a bit in a stupor.

Judge rose from the podium, turning off the recording and went back to their chambers to de-robe. Lawyer could hear Rival cleaning up. They heard the hard leather land on the table and the locks click open.

Professional.

Neat.

Organised.

Lawyer looked like an idiot beside them.

Lawyer watched almost forlornly as Judge disappeared behind the door to the Judge’s private quarters, leaving them open and vulnerable to Rival. They felt like a baby bird who fell out of it’s nest right beside a hungry cat with two gleaming hungry eyes and claws sharper than thorns.

“It was a poor motion to pursue,” said Rival, their voice velvety and consoling. It sprung Lawyer into action, taking their own briefcase and hastily putting their papers away. “Businesses do this all the time, Lawyer, it’s okay.”

“You’re not my tutor anymore, Rival. You don’t get to dictate how I feel.”

“I can’t even try and cheer you up as a friend?”

“You were never my friend,” said Hero with a shrug as they zipped up their briefcase and turned to leave.

Rival stood there, blocking their path. Tall, dressed in their designer navy suit with a crisp white button down and a hand held loosely in one pocket. A perfect imitation of a human being, without having the characteristics of one.

“That’s harsh, Lawyer.”

“And yet, true. You’ll have to excuse me.”

Rival didn’t move, didn’t blink. He just stood there, looking down at Lawyer, expression imperceptible. “Come have drinks with me.”

Lawyer scoffed. “To celebrate?”

“It is one loss Lawyer,” said Rival, tone hard. Lawyer sent a cutting glare up at Rival, their eyes narrowed to the dangerous point of a dagger.

“Would you accept it?” Lawyer asked, furious. Rival blinked. That was all the answer Lawyer needed. “Exactly. Excuse me. I need to get back to work.”

Lawyer brushed by Rival and this time, Rival let them. “I’ll find you after work then,” said Rival, and Lawyer shook their head but didn’t turn back around. It wasn’t an offer they could refuse, but right now Lawyer would take all of the agency they could get.

It took getting out into the fresh open air, with sunlight smiling on their skin before Lawyer let their shoulders sag an inch. Just for a moment.

A long, gratuitous inhale, and a satisfying filling exhale.

Then they fixed their posture and continued down the courthouse steps, their easy mask of confidence returning.

[thewhumpyprintingpress]

Reasons why your lab rat whumpee might be being experimented on:

CW: lab whump, medical whump, unethical science, military mention, drug mention

Whumpee is a different species and the scientists are trying to figure out how their body works. (cough cough alien abduction cough cough)

An ethically questionable military organization is trying to create a living weapon.

Or, military organization testing the effectiveness of various types of weapons.

A scientist who has been thrown out of their academic circle for their outlandish theories and horrifying techniques is trying to prove themself. If they just run the right experiments on whumpee, everybody will have to believe them and they’ll be hailed as a hero. 

A big biomedical company needs to test some new drugs/procedures.

Whumpee is the only person who survived some sort of extreme event (radiation, virus, etc.) and now scientists want to know why.

Whumpee was given a choice: either go to prison for the rest of their life or be a lab rat for a year.

A sorcerer uses whumpee to test new spells and potions. 

Whumpee has super powers and scientists want to figure out how they work.

Whumpee was spying on organization conducting unethical experiments, but was caught and is now a lab rat themself.

And of course, there’s always old-fashioned sadism masquerading as science.

Happy whumping! If any of these ideas sparked your imagination, we’re accepting submissions for a lab-whumped themed anthology called The Whumpboratory. Head here for more information about how to submit!

[maracujatangerine]

Book recommendation

- for the pet whump crowd and others who like good sci-fi.

I read the first of two books a couple of years ago and I quite liked it, and now I’ve read the sequel and it was amazing!

Book 1: Dogs of War, Adrian Tchaikovsky

Book 2: Bear Head, Adrian Tchaikovsky

The books take place in a not so distant future where bioengineered animals are intelligent as humans, but still keep a lot of their animal traits. The author has studied zoology and you can really feel that his books have benefited from him thinking deeply about animal traits.

The first book focuses on Rex, designed to be a living weapon complete with reward and control circuits in his brain. He really, really wants to be a good dog, and to his master, being a good dog means killing lots of people. But what happens when his master is tried as a war criminal?

The second book - which I absolutely loved - takes place on the construction site of the first settlement on Mars. It is a time where bioengineered animals have been granted some human rights, but there are political forces who see the opportunity to gather support by painting the animals as something other - dangerous, barbaric and needing to be controlled. My favourite main character in this book is an amazing academic and activist - who happens to be a bear - but all characters are really clearly painted and the environments are interesting and thought-provoking. This book is very relatable to today’s political situation, which makes me wonder how it will work in a decade, but which also made it feel great to read right now.

The characters are very clearly drawn and relatable, they are smart and their actions feel reasonable and in-character. The plot is fresh and fast-paced, the sci-fi elements feel believable. I cared about all the characters and was invested in the story.

There are strong currents of pet whump and living weapon in these books, so if you like that sort of thing I really recommend you checking them out.

Book Recommendations Masterlist

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Shadowgast featuring Ludinus Recs

Ludinus: is there anywhere in Exandria he can't show up? This week, we've got seven fics that feature Essek's former collaborator, Ludinus Da'leth. Check them out behind the cut, and as always, comment or kudos if you like them!

here is a world where you love your executioner by hanap (81637, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn, Pregnancy (Essek)

series where essek ends up bearing ludinus's kids, and how he and the nein (and caleb) deal

Reccer says: Ough its *such* a good series, complicated, painful, yearning 🤲 perfectly wizards, and perfectly everyone else as well

obedience by dawl_and_dapple (20751, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

For as long as Essek can remember, he has been cursed to obey. He has managed, in his own way, to mitigate the consequences of the curse while pursuing his academic and personal desires. It is only after being commanded to act as a guide for the Mighty Nein that it becomes a true complication.

Reccer says: Such an interesting idea, and wonderfully executed!! Its easy to feel Essek's struggle with!

you hear me (howling outside your door) by neinofthem (2297, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

essek has a hard time leading up to testifying at ludinus's trial

Reccer says: Oh man its great 🤲 the bits from the past, the bits from the present, the slow connecting of the dots (he was a just a kid), excellent 👌

Enticement by Anonymous (1297, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn, Humiliation, Manipulation, Non sexual nudity (as part of humiliation)

What could have happened when Caleb was captured by Ludinus in C3E51

Reccer says: For the fans of whump and humiliation theme, Ludinus thinks himself as untouchable and so mighty and he wants to teach Caleb (and Essek) a lesson to go against him.

of things yet to come by ghostsquidswrites (10467, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

ludinus tries to force essek into learning timestop and only timestop by threatening caleb, essek finds a way around this

Reccer says: It's so good!!!! The twist is great, and it really shows esseks character growth - 'you should try friends sometimes,' get fucked daleth >:3

And then for these last two, two recs each

Reports of my safety have been greatly exaggerated by ghosttopiary (88047, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, Hallucinations

Essek is captured by Ludinus and lies to the Nein about what happened

Reccer 1 says: Very vivid descriptions and an interesting take on the aftermath of torture Reccer 2 says: Ough man, every time there was an update, it grabbed me by my heartstrings 😭💕 its *so* good, vivid, painful, sweet - hhh. 🤲

i wake, all my lines unlearned by SaltCore (18579, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Torture

After the Mighty Nein turned on him following the end of the war, Essek works with Ludinus Da'leth's Ruby Vanguard.

Reccer 1 says: Delicious Essek whump Reccer 2 says: ITS SO GOOD AND PAINFUL AHUHHhhhhh A++++ another excellent and exqusitely painful fic by saltcore 😭💕 essek is trying so hard to fit everything into the framework of what 'must have happened' even though dramatic irony we the audience Knowww. It hurts so so so good 👌😭

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. 

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring fics with Alternate Timelines or Echoes! play with those possibilities!

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

[songforeddiemunson]

Haunting in Blackwood Hollow Part 2

An Eddie Munson x F!Reader Miniseries

Series Summary: It’s the year 1991. Eddie and reader check into a rented house in the Appalachian woods, joined by Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin. Unfortunately for our gang, things in Blackwood Hollow are never as they appear.

Tropes: established relationship, Jonathan x Nancy, no mention of the events from ST, smut, comedy, fluff, scares, bit of whump (but nothing too crazy)

Series Warnings: Swearing, drinking and weed use, sexual and scary situations, minors please DNI.

Chapter Two: Fool Me Once

Chapter warnings: naughty language, mentions of drinking, weed use. Smut, p in v sex, bit rough (you like it) wrap it before you tap it. Spooky situations

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the smut inspo, @hiscrimsonangel (with this post haha iykyk)

Word Count: ~3K

PART ONE

You stayed up quite late that first night catching up with your old friends, drinking cans of pilsner or oversweet margarita mix from sticky solo cups, laughing your asses off, the ouija board forgotten and back in its box. No longer a big fan of heavy drinking yourself, you cut yourself off after just a few drinks, preferring the more mellow buzz of herb than bubbles. 

Jonathan got quite drunk, which was a riot, and his friendly ribbing of Steve always increased in that state, to the delight of everyone in the room. Despite Steve’s history with Nancy (and subsequently Jonathan), the three of them managed to become great friends. 

Robin bemoaned what she referred to as her perpetual spinsterhood, making you all laugh; “I don’t think you can legally call yourself a spinster at 23,” Steve said. “Just enjoy not being tied down yet,” he finished, causing the rest of the room to tease him for projecting, considering he couldn’t seem to find his one-and-only either (but he pretended he didn’t mind, fooling nobody). 

Steve dated plenty, but Robin struggled with it more than he did for obvious reasons. The two of them were roommates for a time in Indianapolis before going their separate ways. The catalyst; one of Steve’s hookups once implied she would like Robin to join them in the bedroom, which horrified them both so much they ultimately got separate places but still lived on the same block. Robin managed a coffee shop and spoke about her wish to try out for the Indianapolis Philharmonic, which thrilled her but made her so nervous she became nauseated whenever she thought about it for too long. Steve had been employed as a junior high school basketball coach for the past year and decided he would like to go back to school for academic sports; he loved working with the kids.

Nancy filled in the group regarding her grad school studies at Columbia University in New York City for journalism. It was hard work but, true to form, Nancy was excelling, and she had a bright future in print journalism in the city. Jonathan had relocated to be with her and was working as a freelance photographer when he wasn’t working in the kitchen of a popular Brooklyn restaurant. He had ultimately decided not to pursue college and chose to support Nancy instead, thinking that would be the best chance for them as a couple. It caused a lot of friction at first, with Nancy initially pushing Jonathan to go to college, but they were able to work through it and had come out stronger.

After high school Eddie had tried his hand at being a musician, mechanic, bartender and assorted other odd jobs with limited success, and ultimately decided to attend vocational school to become a tattoo artist, which was truly his calling. All the doodles he made for Corroded Coffin and the Hellfire Club paid off, and he was one of the most sought-after ink artists in St. Louis, earning enough for the two of you to live in a nice apartment, despite your modest salary as an administrative assistant for a dentist’s office.  

You were all thriving, and it was wonderful to celebrate each other’s successes. The wedding rehearsal was the following evening, and you looked forward to catching up with the younger kids there– “kids” who were all legal adults by this time; a fact that none of you could believe nor enjoyed thinking about. You were all relieved that you weren’t staying with them, despite the less than ideal location in which you found yourselves; those kids were like a pack of ferrets on cocaine, especially when they were all together. It would be too much, so you stuck with your own age bracket.

Finally, around two in the morning, Robin decided to turn in. Nancy and Jonathan followed about fifteen minutes later, leaving you and Eddie alone with Steve.

You stretched and yawned. “I think it’s time for bed. You coming Eddie?”

Eddie waggled his eyebrows at you. “I don’t know, am I?” he asked, his voice dripping with hyperbolic innuendo.

You laughed and gave him a smack on his tightly bedenimed rear end. “Just get moving, Munson.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted, while Steve rolled his eyes.

It turns out that mercifully, someone did actually change the sheets.

A blessing, honestly, considering you were currently tangled up in them, with the sharp bones of Eddie’s pelvis almost painfully pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs. The bed, old and squeaky with a metal frame that resembled something out of a cold war era prison, was a loud testament to the rhythm of your sex. You couldn’t be bothered to care much, since it felt incredible. The few cans of PBR you had chugged didn’t hurt either.

Eddie had you pinned to the mattress, caged between his arms as he nuzzled and suckled your neck, punctuating soft kisses with nips that would surely leave a mark. You enjoyed it like this sometimes, when he would manhandle you just a bit, claiming you, marking you, and fucking you roughly into the mattress. Sure, there was a time and place for soft lovemaking, but sometimes, you just wanted to be nailed.

“Feel so good baby,” he murmured into your ear, barely more than an exhalation, most of his efforts being concentrated on slamming his cock into your depths. You could barely do more than wiggle and squeal with the way he had you immobilized, which seemed to heighten every sensation. Even his breathy little grunts and gasps were sending you into the stratosphere. You clawed at his back, and the resulting moan in your ear helped bring on climax number three, and you bit into Eddie’s shoulder to stifle your cries.

Eddie’s pace began to falter, and he grasped your waist roughly with his fingers as he shuddered and thrust to his own completion, ending with a final grind of his hips against your sensitive clit, making you yelp. “Ha,” he burst triumphantly; he could be a cocky shit when it came to the pleasures he could draw out of you. He also wasn’t wrong. 

After a tender kiss, Eddie rolled off of you and retrieved his boxers from the floor, sliding them on before fumbling around on the bedside table for his smokes.  He lay back down with his back propped up against the pillow, lighting a cigarette and sighing contentedly. He looked at you and grinned.

“You think everyone heard us?”

You chuckled. “I don’t see how they couldn’t,” you said, as you dressed in a tank top and sweatpants. “This bed is so squeaky, it almost wasn’t worth even trying to be quiet.” 

Eddie laughed. “You sound so cute though when you try,” he said as he flicked his ash into the ashtray on his nightstand. “All squeaky and whiny,” he finished with a wink.

“How dare you,” you joked. “I’m a vision of propriety.”

“Properly fucked, you mean.”

“Eddie!” you scolded, laughing.

“I’ll take it back when it stops being true darlin.’” 

“You’re the worst,” you countered.

“You love me,” he said.

“Dammit, you’re right, I do,” you said. You bent to kiss him, and as you pressed your lips to his, you felt him smile.

“I love you too babe,” he said. 

It was incredible, how he could still make your heart beat faster after all this time.

You headed into the ensuite bathroom and started to go through your usual bedtime routine of brushing your teeth and washing your face. You were suddenly struck by how exhausted you were; between traveling, cleaning, drinking (and smoking) and some vigorous sex, you were thoroughly spent. You glimpsed through the open bathroom door that Eddie had picked up his paperback of Needful Things, and was reading it by the light of the table lamp.

You clicked off the bathroom light and were just about to exit when something caught your eye out of the window. You peered closer to the thick glass to get a better look.  

There was someone standing below on the lawn.

You couldn’t make out any details, but you had the sudden, hair-raising sense that whoever it was was looking right at you.

You jumped backward in alarm.  "Eddie!” you shouted. 

He was out of bed and by your side in an instant. “What?!  A rat?  Why are you standing in the dark, babe?”  He peered around the room intently.

“No, down there!”  You pointed out the window, down onto the grass, but now the figure was gone.  “But…but it was there a second ago…”

Eddie bent to the glass for a closer look, brows furrowed.  "I don’t see anything. What was it?“

"A person! They were definitely standing down there. And babe– I swear it was looking at me.”

A look of intense wariness crossed his features, and he straightened, all business.  "Are you sure?“

"Yes! It was right there!”

“Stay here.”  He was out of the bathroom like a shot. He quickly pulled on his flannel pajama pants and strode from the bedroom.  You waited with your heart in your throat as you heard the front door below you creak open.  You watched out the window as Eddie came into view on the lawn, carrying a fireplace poker in one hand. He clicked on a flashlight and began to sweep the property with it.  It was late, and the shadows from the trees that peppered the property created long ribbons of darkness across the grass that the lights from the house were unable to penetrate.  You realized that it must have been difficult for Eddie to see out there, even armed with a flashlight, and you broke into gooseflesh at the thought.

Screw this, I’m not leaving him alone out there, you thought to yourself, and left the bathroom.  Eddie hadn’t turned on any of the lights in his wake, and in the darkness the house had taken on an even more sinister quality than when you had arrived. You tried to push it out of your mind, dismissing it as the aftershock from your scare. It permeated regardless, with a nearly palpable weight. You hurried downstairs and toward the front door, clicking on lights as you went.  The downstairs area was deserted; everyone else must have also turned in. You quickly scanned the entry area for a weapon, finding only an umbrella. It would have to do.

You stepped outside, eyes sweeping the lawn for Eddie, hearing only crickets as you peered into the trees. In the moments since you had taken your eyes off of him he had disappeared from view. Your heart was pounding and your breath misted around you in the chilly night air.  You crept forward slowly, and you found that your eyes were having difficulty adjusting to the darkness. The shadows were too inconsistent. Anyone could be watching me from those trees and I’d never know it, you thought. Dammit babe, where did you go? 

“Babe?” you called softly.  Silence. “Eddie,” you called again, a little louder this time. Was that a twig snapping?

“What?” said a voice, from directly behind you.

You squeaked with fright and whirled, striking out with the umbrella.  "Ow, what the fuck?!“ Eddie bent forward, clutching his head.

"Oh my fucking god Eddie! You scared me!”

He rubbed his head in irritation where you had whacked him, mussing up his curls. “What are you doing out here? I asked you to stay inside!”

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t just stand there waiting for you. Are you alright?” you stood on your toes to get a better look at your boyfriend’s scalp, but thankfully there was no blood.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, then sighed resignedly.  "I didn’t see anything in front, so I circled round the back to be sure. There’s nothing out here that I can see.  Are you sure you saw someone?“

"Positive.”

“Your eyes couldn’t have been playing tricks on you?”

“Edward,” you said, your voice taking on an acerbic tone. “You know I’m not prone to hysterics.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, and hugged you to him.  "Maybe it was Steve or something.”

“If it was, where is he now? I didn’t see anyone when I came downstairs.”

Eddie could only shrug at that.

Once back inside, he bolted the front door. "Seems solid,” he said.  He went around the house and checked to be sure all the windows and the back door were locked, and when he was satisfied, you went back to the bedroom together.  As you passed Jonathan and Nancy’s room, Jonathan opened the door and poked his head out, his hair mussed and sticking up in every direction.  

“Someone scream?” he mumbled blearily.

“Eddie saw a spider, go back to bed,” you said. Eddie shot daggers at you with his eyes, but a slight upward curl of his lips belied his irritation. Jonathan only nodded and closed his door.

Back in your own room, you undressed and crawled under the covers, snuggling up to Eddie.

It was quiet for a moment, but the wheels in your mind were still turning. “Maybe it was just a local cutting across the lawn on the way somewhere. They may not be used to the house being occupied,” you offered.

"Maybe,” Eddie replied, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Will the light bother you if I read for a while?” he asked.

“Not at all,” you said.  "Going to sleep with the light on will be okay with me tonight.”

The following morning you shuffled downstairs for breakfast, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as your housemates warmed up the oatmeal or ate the boxed cereals that Nancy helpfully supplied the previous evening.

“Did anyone see or hear anything strange last night?” you asked the group as you poured yourself a cup of hot coffee.

“I think I did,” Steve began. “Some sort of instrument I think. What was that Robin?”

“Bedsprings,” Robin stated simply as she swallowed a bite of peaches ‘n cream flavored oatmeal, looking the worse for wear.

“Uh, besides that,” you said, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. Eddie laughed.

“Don’t hate,” he said.

“I heard Eddie scream at a spider,” Jonathan said, and this time it was your turn to laugh.

“It was NOT me, and it was not a fucking spider!” Eddie yelled, offended by the notion.

“No,” you said, quelling your giggles. “It was actually me. I– I thought I saw someone outside last night, watching me when I was getting ready for bed.”

Steve sat forward, suddenly wide awake. “Wait, really?”

You nodded. “Eddie went out to look for whoever it was but he didn’t find anything.”

“Oh shit,” Robin said, “that’s the last thing I needed to hear. Can we go to a hotel now?”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Nancy said. “Maybe it was just a local?”

“The nearest neighbors are a quarter mile away,” you said. 

“I dunno,” Jonathan chimed in, “you hear stories about cannibals living in the woods in Appalachia…”

“That’s a gross stereotype,” Robin scolded.

“Feel free to ignore him,” Nancy said with a sigh.

“My mom was from Appalachia!” Eddie spat.

“Okay, nevermind,” Jonathan said, as he shrank down in his seat and went back to his oatmeal.

“Well if it wasn’t a local, what could it have been?” Steve asked.

“Maybe messing with the ouija board woke something up,” Robin said, and though you normally didn’t place much stock in those things, you felt something akin to an ice cold finger trail down your spine. You shivered.

Steve chuckled. “You can’t be serious.”

“No really!” Robin cried defensively. “In the movie Witchbo–”

“I am not using a shitty 80s horror film as a guidebook!” Steve shouted.

“Whatever,” Robin said. “If you guys get murdered by an evil axe-wielding ouija spirit, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You laughed it off along with everyone else, yet the idea wouldn’t leave you. It was unsettling, to put it mildly.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was studying your expression. You did always wear your emotions on your sleeve, and he could sense your unease.

“So,” Eddie said. "What’s everyone wearing to the wedding?"

His umber eyes slid over to yours as the conversation devolved into fashion and hairstyling chatter.

Thank you, you mouthed to your boyfriend, and his Mona Lisa smile wordlessly said, I’ve got you. And he did, that much you would never be unsure about. Regardless of what was happening in your life, Eddie Munson would always have your back, which made you feel very lucky indeed. 

You didn’t know it yet, but it was a sentiment you would come to rely upon much more in the days to come. 

To Be Continued...

More is coming! As always, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of every fic writer!

MASTERLIST

[3-2-whump]

Khaled’s Backstory, Part 2: Growing Pains

<prev next>

Happy Birthday Khaled! This is the part where your backstory starts to go downhill. Thank you @generic-whumperz and @whumped-by-glitter for beta reading this!

TW/CW: death of a family member, aftermath of death of a family member

Language Note: The Urdu words I used were learned through reading multiple language-learning blogs, culture blogs, Reddit, and of course, the ol' reliable Google Translate. If I misrepresented any of the expressions (which is extremely likely) please let me know as civilly as possible, because I'd rather know than not know.

Khaled stared at the freshly filled-in earth, his swollen red eyes blurring as he took in the finality of it. The mourners had finally started dissipating, leaving only Abdul Bakhsh’s widow and children at the grave. A large, heavyset man with glasses came up to him and his mother, expressing his condolences, and extending a surprising offer.

“Your father and I were good friends,” he began, addressing Khaled directly. “He would want his family provided for. So, whenever you can manage it, you’re more than welcome to work at my café, if you’d like.”

The teenager blinked up at him confusedly. “Me? W-Why?”

“You’re the next man in the family,” the friend explained, “you have three younger siblings to look after, and your mum can’t do it alone with only her meager salary.”

He was completely right. Almost instantly, Khaled could feel the weight of these newfound responsibilities settle on his shoulders.

“Muhammad, this is not a good time-” his mother began to intervene.

“Ammi, it’s okay,” he interrupted. Mum glanced at him hesitantly, but ultimately backed off. Khaled faced the man again, all serious as he said, “I’ll think about it, sir. Thank you for looking out for us.”

And that’s how he ended up here, now, wiping down tables with a wet dish rag. He had quit school after the academic year was up, going full time at Mr. Saeed’s café as soon as he could. He mostly washed dishes or cleaned up after customers, five days of the week from noon to ten in the evening. He didn’t make much money, but, after an entire year of buffing coffee stains out of linoleum countertops, he’d like to think this little job was helping his family in some way.

The bell above the shop dinged, and he waved to the new customers that entered. His old friends, Tariq, Imran, and Muhammad, waved back, all smiles as they jostled up to the counter and placed their orders. They took a seat at the table Khaled had finished cleaning up, asking about him and how his family was doing.

“They’re great, they’re fine,” he replied. “Yusuf and Ayesha are still in school, and they’re finally stepping up and helping me and Ammi with the twins!”

“That’s great!” Tariq exclaimed. “It’s about time they pitched in!”

“It can’t have been easy to parent your little sisters all the time,” Imran commented.

Khaled briefly recalled late nights of emotions running high, of careless words being thrown about, and of him having an emotional breakdown in front of his siblings. “I’m not Dad!” he screamed at them. “I’m sorry that I’m not doing things exactly like he used to do them, but nobody is more aware of the fact that I’m not him than me!” And while his emotional outburst earned him a serious talking-to from his mother, it seemed that Yusuf, Ayesha, and the twins were much more forgiving of his shortcomings after that.

“Never mind Khaled’s troubles, what about ours? What even is this shit?” Muhammad groaned as he stared at his calculus homework.

Khaled peeked over his shoulder and let out a shudder.

Imran caught his subtle reaction and smiled bitterly. “You’re lucky you dropped out when you did,” he said. “This coursework is so hard! I mean, just look at my literature homework!” He rifled through his bag before he pulled out a thin paperback book and a double-sided sheet of follow-up questions.

“How much of it do you have to read?”

“All of it.”

“All of it?!”

A moist towel whipped at Khaled’s head, bringing his attention to somewhere behind him as the towel smacked him with a wet thwack! Hamza, an older employee, glared at him from behind the service counter. “You want to socialize, do that on your break, Khaled!” he reminded him.

“Yes, sir!” Khaled replied, although it physically pained him to call the annoying nineteen-year-old ‘sir.’ He quickly made his excuses to his friends and left them to do their homework in peace.

A few more regulars walked in after his friends had left: the real estate agent who always ordered a double espresso, the lawyer who constantly smelled of tobacco smoke, the university students who also came to do their homework there. They even got a few first-time customers, locals and tourists alike. There was one girl who walked into their café near the end of the day, wearing a magenta pink kurta and blue jeans with sandals. A cream-colored dupatta was wrapped around her graceful neck. She ordered a latte and sat down in one of the booths by the window, scrolling through her phone as she waited. She was the most beautiful girl Khaled had ever seen. Long, glossy, dark brown hair cascaded in loose ringlets down her back, and, as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, he caught a glimpse of electrifying blue eyes underneath thick eyelashes. She looked up from her phone, and for a moment, blue eyes locked with brown. Khaled couldn’t help but feel a flush of heat spread over his face, despite standing directly beneath the ceiling fan. The girl waved a hand at him in greeting and smiled. She smiled at him. Khaled could hear his heart threatening to break out of his ribcage.

He received another wet towel slap to the head, and a reminder not to openly gape at the customers. He shook his head and blinked a few times to reorient himself, then collected the rest of the used mugs to take back to the kitchen.

He saw the girl around the café quite a few times after that. About a month later, he was lucky enough to take an order out to her, and then another, and then a few more. He became addicted to her smile, to her laugh, to her. The girl –Shazia–was enough for him to stay behind off-hours and learn how to use the milk foamer. Seeing her light up and hearing her beautiful laugh when she saw his happy face latte art was the best fifteenth birthday present he could’ve ever asked for.

A week after he presented his latte art, she had asked to talk to him during his break. So, there they sat, at her usual booth near the window, talking about anything and everything as she drank her falooda and he collected her empty glass when she was done. And one break’s worth of talking together quickly became a routine whenever Shazia came to visit.

“I don’t know, doesn’t it seem kind of odd that a grown woman is expressing interest in Khaled, of all people?” Hamza mused one night as the boys were going through closing tasks at the end of the night.

“‘Grown woman?’ She’s like, eighteen,” Khaled argued, leaning against his broom as he took a break from sweeping the floor. “That’s only three years older than me, and a year and a half younger than you.”

“Pay him no mind, Khaled,” Kamran, the other employee, smirked. He inverted chairs on top of freshly cleaned tables, clearing the way before Khaled could sweep the floor underneath. “He’s just jealous,” he taunted, earning a sour glare from the boy setting up the coffee machine for the next morning.

“I’m not jealous!” Hamza defended.

“Boys! Am I paying you to talk, or am I paying you to work?!” their employer snapped, coming back with an empty cash drawer after doing the final count for the day. All three employees offered their apologies and quickly got back to their given tasks. Mr. Saeed rolled his eyes. “Chalo, chalo, the sooner we wrap this up, the sooner all of us can go home!”

To Khaled’s surprise, Shazia was waiting outside the café as he stepped out after closing. He waved at her, smiling, yet confused. “What are you doing here? Not that I don’t mind seeing you,” he clarified, “but, it’s late, and you’re alone. Don’t you have family that will worry?”

“Khaled, it’s fine, I just wanted to see you after work, that’s all!” she explained.

She wanted to see me? Me? He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. He looked back smugly at his older coworkers. Hamza glared back in poorly disguised envy, and Kamran threw him two thumbs up. “I –uh, sure! Yeah, okay,” he chuckled.

They walked from the café to a brightly lit storefront, where Shazia and Khaled briefly bickered over who was going to pay for the kulfis they selected. “But, I should pay, I’m a man!” he insisted.

“No, you’re fifteen.”

“Yeah, exactly! Wait-” Khaled paused, giving Shazia enough time to pay for their treats.

“I’ll be honest, Khaled,” Shazia began as they walked out of the store with kulfis in hand, “I waited for you tonight because I actually wanted to ask a favor of you.”

Khaled perked up, pausing mid-lick with his tongue millimeters from the icy treat before him. “Me?” He committed to the lick, then composed himself. “What do you mean?” he asked.

She threw her hair back over her shoulder, making micro adjustments to get it out of the way of her face. “You see, I’m a model, or at least I plan to be.”

“Makes sense, you’re definitely pretty enough to be a model.” Her laughter made Khaled blush red as he realized he had voiced that thought out loud.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you!” She took a few licks of her kulfi before continuing. “So, I was going to do a photoshoot tomorrow with my photographer, my agent, and a friend of mine to round out my portfolio, but my friend just said he’d come down with a cold, and now he can’t make it tomorrow,” she explained.

“Oh, that’s awful, I’m sorry. Can you carry on without him, though?” Khaled asked.

Shazia shook her head and sighed. “We’re doing a sports-themed photoshoot, and it wouldn’t look right if it was just me kicking around the football. So…” she hesitated, before shyly asking, “...would you mind filling in for my friend tomorrow?”

Khaled’s brain bluescreened, taking a second to reboot as Shazia tried to further persuade him. “It would only take an hour or two at most, you would be paid for your time, and my photographer and agent will make sure it’s fun for both of us-”

Khaled’s lips widened in a smile. “I’ll do it!” he decided. She could’ve told him it would take five hours in the freezing rain and he’d still be down for spending more time with her. “Where, and what time?” he asked eagerly.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz

@bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@defire @phoenixpromptsandstuff @scumashling