#at least if you’re writing whump series

[whump-in-the-closet]

Do you have any unpopular opinions on Whump?

ah. i have a few, i think

my biggest one would be that is that i kinda believe we have enough “whumpee and whumper are two gay boys uwu”. i’ve seen it enough times and while i get it. it’s a favored trope. the people like it. etc. but guys it’s been done so many times. whumpee is just this white boy who’s gay and sweet and innocent and whumper is also white and hot and gay but evil :((( and that’s it. like that’s the whole plot with whumpee in the basement and tortured. there’s no nuance. or fuckin diversity. if we’re going to be dealing with heavy content such as torture and suffering and how the human mind breaks, the dynamic should be deeper too imo. like they should be just as complicated and human and messy as the actual whump is. i think it’s the archetypes that are just copy and paste that bother me. they’re just roles to fill and that’s it, without any actual thought or character development behind it. characters should be more than what you think your audience wants to see. fuck the audience and complicate your characters. whump is messy and the dynamics should be too.

[obstinaterixatrix]

Do u know any good mob psycho 100 fanfics?? Or authors??

well obviously my sister but I’m guessing you’re the same anon so 1) you already know her fics 2) you want different recs from what’s on her list (some of them being fics I rec’d to her lol). recs will skew heavily seri/rei and I’m just going through my bookmarks so it’s gonna be most recently read to oldest read. also seconding sister’s recs of bobmoss and crookedturtle. but I’ll add a fic from each anyway because I already wrote something for one while I was drafting this (oops)

Recollection by CowardlyBean

This is the journal of missing 31 year old Reigen Arataka, distributed with permission from friends and family. The version presented in this document has been kindly edited with added commentary by a loyal customer of his. -Editor’s Note

gen, experimental and in progress at 14k so definitely deserves more love than it’s getting. inspired by house of leaves; as the summary says, it’s some rando writing annotations about reigen’s journal, but Something Weird Is Going On. the 4th chapter updated so I actually need to catch up. also, sister rec’d this fic to me

Like Acid Reflux, or Love by partingxshot

Dating Reigen is like dating a single dad—only with more children, weirder scruples, and an extreme ruthlessness vis-à-vis group takoyaki discounts. He's not hot enough for this.

OR: "Me, You and Steve" by Garfunkel and Oates but with fifteen million teenagers.

OR: Outsider POV exploring Reigen’s dedication to his gaggle of bizarre children through an ill-fated dating attempt.

OR: Serizawa gets bruxism.

gen(/pre-relationship seri/rei), oneshot, 7k. oc/reigen breakup lmao. extremely funny concept, extremely good execution

Dream Dial by Alakazamboni

For the better part of nine years, Arataka has proudly worked in customer service at a behemoth of a company. At least, that's what he remembers, but a strange illness and a mysterious caller keeps trying to convince him otherwise. It doesn't help that this caller has the power to distort reality.

seri/rei, in progress, 16k. great uncanny atmosphere, and also reigen is trapped in time prison as a miserable office worker. hasn’t been updated for a while but read it anyway, the stoping point is fine

What We Make by crookedturtle

Reigen and Tome are kidnapped from the Spirits and Such office to be used as leverage against Mob. They have two goals: to contact the outside world, and keep each other safe. In doing so they engage in a dangerous game of lies and manipulation with their captors—a game with potentially deadly consequences.

gen (bg seri/rei), complete, 36k. Good for whump and high stakes interpersonal maneuvering & drama. I liked how the story extends beyond rescue and goes into how everyone navigates the fallout

Man's Best Friend by bobmoss

A cursed dog gets left at Spirits and Such. Anyone who pets it is doomed to die a horrible death.

Reigen, of course, pets it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. funny and cute and sweet :) there’s a very charming tentative & tender vibe

heart line by ruthwrites

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

seri/rei, oneshot, 6k. getting together fluff, a fun light read that also highlights serizawa’s insecurities—the internal narration has good character voice

If you won't believe me when I say it, believe me when I don't by deathdefied

Two years after Reigen invited Serizawa to work for him, he still can't quite categorize his feelings for his coworker. Instead of actually dealing with those feelings like an adult and talking to his friend, he decided to get really paranoid and overthink everything Serizawa does.

seri/rei, complete, 26k. reigen drives himself nuts lmao

Obvious by skeilig

Tome’s perspective on Reigen and Serizawa’s developing relationship.

gen (but about seri/rei), oneshot, 3k. I like outsider perspective getting together fics, especially when the perspective character is like ‘I’m actually not invested in this except when it affects me directly’

Cover Me by flecksofpoppy

Reigen’s shadow seems longer as the days move forward, more solitary. The cuts on his face heal and the ache in his bones go away, but a new sting replaces it. It’s loneliness, the thing he had managed to avoid ever since a primary school-aged kid who could make cups float stumbled into his office so many years ago.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. getting together fic that shows off a little of reigen’s gloomier side, it’s cute

loved you just a little too much by shcherbatskayas

You learn how to let go.

(It doesn't come naturally.)

gen(ish), oneshot, 2k. 2nd person character study of serizawa’s relationship with touichiro, I liked the ambivalence; effectively captures development over time with a relatively short wordcount.

offering genuine help with genuine results by suitablyskippy

“The curse was pretty clear on me not telling lies,” concedes Reigen. “It was pretty clear on me telling the truth. But,” as he lifts one finger, already sliding into the same educational tone he generally uses for imparting wisdom to Mob about life and love and the overall holistic benefits of making sure he’s always available for unexpected overtime work on weekends, “telling the truth isn’t necessarily the same as being honest, is it?”

“You’re the professional liar,” says Dimple. “You tell me.”

(Being cursed to only tell the truth and being cursed with Dimple as an employee are pretty much equally bad, as far as Reigen's stress levels are concerned.)

gen, oneshot, 2k. the tags include friends with no benefits whatsoever, which is very apt. Very funny to have reigen and dimple be petty and shady

a slightly more miraculous miracle by suitablyskippy

“Rumour has it that something impossible’s happened. Something that could never have happened. That shouldn’t have been able to happen.” In a single slick move Mezato produces a tiny voice recorder from an inside pocket, flips it open and active, and holds it up before Mob’s mouth to ask him, in a tone of devastating intensity: “Do you know anything about… a miracle, Mob-kun?”

Mob doesn’t hesitate. “We had maths homework to hand in,” he says. “But now we don’t have to. We don’t even have to go to the lesson.”

(The sun is shining, the birds are singing, Salt Middle School has been closed by an unexplained miracle, and the only thing wrong in Spice City is the fact that nothing is even slightly wrong at all.)

teru/mob, incomplete, 55k. for the most part I haven’t been repeating authors on this list, but listen. listen to me. I need you to listen. it is extremely unlikely for this fic to ever be completed. but hark, lest this sad probability turn you away and leave you dispassionately scrolling to the next fic, I need you (you specifically) to know that if I were in the same room as you, I would be wrestling the phone/mouse/trackpad/touchscreen/etc from your hands and furiously clicking the link. when I bookmarked this fic in 2017 I described it as having “some breathtakingly sensical prose and the funniest misunderstandings I’ve ever read”. trust me from seven years ago. open your heart.

skylight by inexhaustible

unconnected snapshots in what might, in some worlds, be something a little like recovery.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. character study that nails the tension of an escalating romantic atmosphere.

come on, come on, come over (take it off your shoulder) by mortarsmayfall

Reigen's free hand cradles Serizawa's head, curled under his ear just so to turn it for a better angle. He feels his pulse pound under Reigen's fingers, shivers just the slightest bit. If Reigen notices, he doesn't say anything about it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. when I first read this I saved it as a private bookmark because I was so embarrassed by the sheer intimacy of haircuts with severely unresolved sexual tension. I’m guessing this was written after studio bones gave us reigen cutting serizawa’s hair. crumbs no more; for once we had a feast to enjoy. short & sweet getting together fic

Off-White by reigreitz

Some habits are tells.

seri/rei, oneshot, 1k. snapshots of pre-relationship and established relationship scenes, I’m quite fond of it. on my first reading I’m pretty sure I remember not paying attention to the habit piece at all (even with it being right in the summary) so at the last scene I was hit by the double whammy of ‘oh so that was what serizawa was reacting to’ and ‘AW… THAT’S SWEET…’; I think the fic does a great job of hiding/not acknowledging certain things the perspective character knows and is reacting to, which makes it fun to reread and pinpoint what exactly serizawa’s previously more opaque train of thought was. like, it’s the same stuff, but you get to read into more nuance.

the seven stages of falling in love by reigen arataka by matsunoble

You suppose one of the weirdest times to realize you've fallen deeply and irrevocably in love is when it's fuck o'clock in the morning and you're blearily checking your fridge for leftover curry.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. I was quite taken by the mundane (and sometimes unappealing) descriptions of love, and I like when serizawa has the upper hand

Mr. Psychic by beefstatic

Looks like trouble in Spice City...

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. Serizawa Acts Like An Intimidating Bodyguard During Tense/Shady Situations. fun emphasis on that potential aspect of his character, I like how it’s done.

Late by hamlingo

For the first few days after hiring Serizawa, Reigen couldn’t help but be alarmed when the door opened at eight o’clock sharp in the mornings. He got used to it eventually, and in a month’s time he was more surprised when the door didn’t creak open right on time.

This was one of those mornings.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. this is actually among the first seri/rei fics I bookmarked so I can say with relative certainty that on may 20th 2017 I decided that maybe seri/rei was not just a joke of me indulging my own spurious unreasonable whims. fun character study and has that enjoyable tension of pleasant pre-relationship uncertainty.

Quiet Talks by krypkaktus

At some point, Reigen cutting his hair twice a month had turned into a mutual habit.

seri/rei, oneshot, 600 words. another charming snapshot of pre-relationship uncertainty, pleasantly embarrassing unresolved romantic tension.

walk in by ruthwrites

It was then he realized that the reason Reigen and Serizawa were standing so close was because they were kissing.

Mob was not really sure what to do with that information.

(or: mob leaves something at the office, comes back, and walks into something he wasn't supposed to)

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. an extremely popular fic for extremely valid reasons, this is a shining example of the outsider POV shipfic where the perspective character is like. I’m 14 and did not want to see you guys kissing. and the couple is like. we also did not want you to see us kissing, this is excruciatingly awkward.

tomorrow isn't always another day by suitablyskippy

It’s like Reigen’s been waiting for the question. He stops dead on the pavement, grips Mob by the shoulders, and stares down into his eyes with an expression as haunted as though every ghost the pair of them has ever exorcised has taken up residence behind it. “Mob,” he says. “Mob,” he says again. “Tell me, Mob. Look at me and tell me. Tell me truthfully. Do I look cursed to you?”

Mob looks at him, and tells him truthfully. “No.”

“Well, you didn’t look very long,” says Reigen. “Let’s just stand here for a moment, like so, and you can have another look, a nice long look, and really think about it...”

(There's nothing strange about being called back to exorcise the same haunted photocopier six days in a row. It must just be a very haunted photocopier.)

gen, oneshot, 18k. I didn’t mean to rec the same author three (3) times but this is also one of my top faves. extremely funny time prison where nobody is on the same page ever.

space voyage by Anonymous

Tome Kurata is slightly famous—or notorious, more like—for being... a weirdo, to put it simply. She's definitely a person of interest. Just not exactly in a newsworthy way, which is obviously the only way that matters.

mezato/tome, oneshot, 1k. charming pre-relationship contention, they’re the same type of self-absorbed and tunnel vision (affectionate)

I was thinking of not writing up recs for sister’s fics but since one author got three (3) fics on the list I’m gonna also put 3 of my fave fics of sister’s

Reigen's Comprehensive Fool-Proof Guide on How Not To Be Next Door Neighbors With Your Employee (because that'd just be creepy) by MalkyTop

Reigen hires Serizawa and they somehow end up as roommates.

seri/rei, complete, 17k. a fic sister wrote for ✨ME✨ that shows off reigen’s neuroticism and his decidedly not-normal attempts to come across as Extremely Normal, The Most Normal Man Alive. there are so many comedic setups and payoffs. there are so many shenanigans. reigen gets frog-boiled into romance. actually, I drop that term a lot but I’m not sure it’s a common enough to intuitively understand. it refers to the boiling frog metaphor

If At First You Don't Succeed, Find a Loophole by MalkyTop

Reigen keeps dying; Serizawa keeps trying to save him.

seri/rei, complete, 18k. sister was insane for this because she trapped all of her readers AND herself in time prison by releasing one chapter a day. it was really funny to witness because I was the only person not in time prison by virtue of editing privilege. while we were watching mondays: see you next week (an office time loop movie), sister was saying she was impressed at how effective/efficient the movie was at picking which scenes to repeat. this is to say, as someone who notices these details, sister was very intentional about when things changed and how things changed from the perspective of a character completely unaware of time prison. also, the emotional momentum is extremely good, I loved reading serizawa’s increasing desperation from reigen’s context-less perspective.

in absentia* by MalkyTop

After what was supposed to be a routine exorcism, Reigen wakes up in the wrong body.

serirei, complete, 26k. slowburn bodyswap with mystery and intrigue. a solid casefic! I can be biased and right. there are metanarrative elements that I find fun and that, in my opinion, highlights how sister did in fact get a degree in philosophy. there’s also some fun subtle and messy characterization notes, like when serizawa asks reigen not to cook for him. it’s hard to talk about what I like about this fic without giving away a lot of specifics, so go read it.

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whumper-Turned-Caretaker CYOA 10

CW for the series | Masterlist

You chose to chat some more.

You’re gonna try to hopefully get to know them better. For someone you’ve been around so much, you know little about them. You didn’t exactly keep them around to talk with.

What do you want to learn? Hobbies are a good place to start, right? Not overly personal, and maybe something you could use to make them a bit happier. "So, Whumpee, what do you like to do for fun?"

They hesitate, most likely cautious about having their answer used against them.

"There's no trick, I'd just like to know," you reassure.

“I, um, like to read, I guess sir,” they answer timidly.

“Alright, cool. What kinds of things do you like to read?”

"Anything, really, but especially sci-fi."

You make a mental note. Maybe you'll make a library trip later. 

You avoid the deep stuff for now; you don’t want to undermine whatever hesitant trust you’ve managed to build up with them by making them relive their capture or reminding them of the things they’ve missed most because of you. You tell them your favorite color and find out theirs is green, and you get a bit of a better idea what kinds of foods they like.

You stifle a yawn. Probably means it's time to figure out Whumpee's sleeping arrangements.

There’s a spare room they could stay in, but it doesn’t have a proper bed currently. You do have an air mattress you could get out and inflate. You’d really rather not give up your own bed, though maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing.

Taglist: @kabie-whump, @whumpanthems, @whumpsoda, @3-2-whump, @generic-whumperz,

@taterswhump, @alivenova, @whumped-by-glitter, @expressionless-fr, @whumpycries,

@whumpsday, @moons-cozy-corner, @echo-goes-aaa, @whumplr-reader, @starfields08000,

@whump-blog, @ivymyers, @currentlyinthesprial, @lumpofsand, @coffin-hopping,

@sunglasses-in-the-bentley, @catnykit

*Note: This may not be the final version of this chapter. I'm feeling sick right now so I'm doubting my current writing abilities/brainpower and I might come back and revise this once I'm feeling better. The general idea will at least be the same. But I'm putting it out as-is for now so the poll duration constraints don't shift the whole updating schedule to be late because of one bad day*

[destiny-in-the-universe]

two down, another to go.

This is going to a mix of about 4-5 different prompts and it’s going to be very much a doozy, esp. because of the fandom choice. It’s extremely late, and I’m not expecting anyone to see this until sometime tomorrow, but the fandom oddly enough is Cars. As in the Pixar movie!

It’ll be an extremely niche reader group but oh fucking well. This is what I’m fixated on writing apparently. For some explanation, it follows the most alt canon to ever be written but it is implied to take place following the events of Cars 2! Lightning is still a racer and at the top of his game, though things take an unexpected, sudden turn in this - since I just like to be mean when it comes to my favorites lmao which includes this boy. Also! Keep in mind everyone is human.

I will say he gets to go through it and is loosely inspired by a great series on Ao3 which I will link later if I can find. It’s definitely becoming its own multi-chaptered work though I’ll cover that later since I’ve no idea if people will be interested in that!

Read below the cut for more information about the Cars whump prompt!

Whumptober Event

Following an alternative canon, Lightning McQueen has returned for another year of racing in order to win the latest Piston Cup, but when things take an unexpected turn for the worse - will he be able to pick himself back up again?

The characters are, of course, humanized. Timeline wise, it’s supposed to take place after Cars 2, but presumably before Cars 3. There are a few key differences from the canon franchise however.

Cars AU Headcanons

I am not incredibly mean, so despite that my love for angst, suffering, and whump - Doc Hudson is not dead. Also because I’m a complete sucker for Doc’s dynamic with Lightning McQueen, and is a huge part for the incoming series/whump writing event.

Mater is very much Not Straight. He doesn’t have a label on himself, but after breaking things off with Holley Shiftwell - he has begun catching feelings for a certain someone. We’ll get to this later!

Mater is also Extremely Autistic and ADHD. You can’t convince me otherwise, holy shit

Lightning McQueen is so ADHD. This is canon now. I make the rules!

Sarge and Fillmore are in a committed relationship, and have been ever since the 1960’s. This is not center to the au I’m working on, but it’s also going to be referenced so,

Doc Hudson has mobility issues and uses a cane to help him walk. His crash won’t be a main focus, but yes, the cane is a mobility aid due to scarring from the incident in his youth!

Hurt Lightning McQueen means adoptive parent Doc Hudson. This is all you’re getting!

Finn and Holley might not appear in this installation, but they’ll probably get referenced in some way!

Lightning is an orphan. It’s unclear what happened to his parents, so all the people he has are from Radiator Springs.

While it’s not a major focus in this version, and is more in the past, I am very much a Harv basher. Have fun with this!

I’ll expand on this universe later, but the short version - Lightning deals with the aftermath of an incident during a race and the road to recovery is far from easy; at least he has his found family to help every step of the way. In other words, I traumatize Lightning for my own whump serving purposes. I’ll be in touch!

[actress4him]

Empires Rise, Kingdoms Fall - Chapter 1 - Calamity

Attention, everyone who voted for the winning choice on my “what should I write next” poll! It took me a bit longer than I anticipated, but the first chapter of my new series is here!

This will feature a female main whumpee, because it’s me so of course it will, but I do plan on bringing in at least one male whumpee later. So, if you enjoy multi-gender royal whump, this series is for you! Let me know if you’d like to be on a tag list for this series.

Contains: lady whump, dude whump, lots of blood, lots of death, murder, war, royal whump

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.

The kingdom is falling. 

From her bedroom window, Maela can see thousands of soldiers, crawling like ants over the hillsides. Smoke furls up into the sky from the nearest towns and villages. Her ladies-in-waiting have assured her time and time again that the war will never reach them here, that even if it did, the city walls are too strong, that Highlea cannot possibly fall.

Yet as she stands in enraptured horror, skirts clutched tightly in her fists, the entire castle is in an uproar. Servants are throwing jewels and tapestries into trunks in a desperate attempt to save them. The last of the Highlean army, those who have not already gone out to fight, are swarming along the tops of the walls, finding their positions to defend the keep. Somewhere down the corridor, someone is weeping loudly.

“Princess!” Her chief lady-in-waiting, Semira, appears at her side and grasps her elbow. “Come, we must get you somewhere safe.”

They were supposed to be safe here. 

Semira seems to sense the protest in her gaze, forcing a smile that is meant to be comforting. “It’s alright. This is all just precautions, I’m sure none of it will be necessary in the end. But your mother is already on her way to the great hall, we should join her there.”

Maela allows herself to be led away from the window. Her eyes drag across her room, taking in the canopied bed, the books, the painting of her with her family as if in a dream. There’s a sense of dread weighing down her steps, something telling her that she’ll never see this room again.

“What about Father? And…and Adler and Eiran?”

“The king and princes have gone out to make their stand with the soldiers,” Semira answers gently. “But you shouldn’t worry about them. They’re strong. They’ll want you safe and protected, though.”

She knows they’re strong. They’ve been trained well, and her father has been to war many times. Adler, too, has marched out to battle before, and come back unscathed.

But Eiran, like herself, has never seen war. He’s only seventeen, a year her senior. All they’ve known is the aftermath, when soldiers are brought back on stretchers and draped over the shoulders of their comrades, bleeding and missing limbs and dying.

Will that be her family’s fate before the day is over?

Semira practically drags her through the corridors. They pass multiple servants, but none of them bother to pause and bow or even nod to the princess, too caught up in their urgent tasks. 

The great hall is in the centermost part of the keep, with no windows and great wooden doors that can be barred shut. They’ve never had to do so before. But now, as soon as Maela and Semira are inside, two guards drop the large crossbar into place with a thud that echoes through the cavernous room. 

Queen Haelyn stands in the very center of the hall, her back turned to them. She looks lost, and small. 

Taking a step forward, hands clasped anxiously in front of her, Maela calls out with a slight tremor in her voice. “Mother?”

The queen spins around, smiling with relief. It doesn’t quite cover the worry that’s etched into her face. “Maela. Good, you’re here. Thank you, Semira.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Semira curtsies in response. 

Maela lifts her skirts so she can hurry across the floor to where her mother stands. She searches her face, finding lines in her normally perfect brown skin, and strands of black hair that aren’t quite as neatly tucked away as usual. “Mother…I’m afraid for Father and the boys.”

Queen Haelyn’s attention has already been drawn elsewhere, her gaze seeming to pierce through the stone walls and out to where the fighting continues, but she drags it almost reluctantly back to her daughter. “Hm? Oh. I’m…certain they’ll be alright, dear. The city has never been breached before, and certainly they won’t make it here, to the keep. This castle was built to be easily defended.” 

It’s all just repetition of the same things Maela’s ladies-in-waiting have been telling her. As if she’s quoting something from a book, or information that has been passed to her that she has no choice but to believe. 

“If there’s no way for them to breach, then…why are we barricading ourselves here?” She waves a hand toward the locked doors. “Why are all the servants packing away our valuables as if the keep may be looted or burned?”

“It’s just a precaution, dear.” Again, she repeats Semira’s words, in a hazy voice that speaks the opposite of her words. She’s afraid, too. 

Everyone is afraid. The fear permeates the air, and has been growing thicker with each passing day. This army…it’s not like others who have marched against them before. Rumors precede it - of a number of soldiers beyond count, of ruthless followers and a far more ruthless leader, of kingdom after kingdom crumbling in its path.

So many towns and villages of Highlea have already been decimated. Now, it seems, it’s their turn.

Maela isn’t ready to die. Nor is she ready to lose everything she knows and everyone she loves.

But she’s not going to receive comfort from her mother. Giving the expected half-curtsy, despite the fact that no one is paying attention, she backs away and returns to Semira. She’s the only one of her ladies-in-waiting that she’s seen since the chaos began, and she’s afraid to ask where the others are. The only other people in the hall are the two guards by the doors, and a few of the highest officials of the court. 

Everyone else is out there somewhere, left to their own devices and the hands of fate. Inside this room, cut off from the rest of the world, it’s hard to keep her imagination from running wild of what that fate might be. 

Minutes stretch into hours. Semira, always vigilant about her princess’ wellbeing, tries to convince Maela to sit and rest, but she can’t. Anxiety has seized every inch of her body, thrumming through her veins. She can’t even stay still, much less sit down.

The silence from beyond the doors is nearly unbearable, until it’s broken and she finds herself wishing that it would return. At first, it’s thumping and banging. The fight isn’t close enough for them to actually hear the clanging of swords, but it has obviously moved much closer to the keep. Far too close. 

Queen Haelyn, across the room on her throne, goes from staring aimlessly at the walls to squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Maela grasps Semira’s hand so hard that she’s probably crushing it.

When the first scream erupts from somewhere across the castle, Maela jolts, then claps a hand to her mouth. She can feel the blood draining from her face. The screams multiply - some pained, some frightened, some dragging on in agony. Each one is like a knife to her gut. Tears stream down her face.

The army is here. They’re inside the castle. 

She finds herself looking to her mother again, but there’s still nothing to draw from her. The queen’s eyes are still closed, and now her lips are moving. Whispering prayers, most likely. Maela instead glances at Semira, hoping for comfort from the one source she can usually count on it from, but she’s gone just as pale and is staring wide-eyed at the doors.

Any second now, they’ll arrive here, at the great hall. And if towering stone walls and an entire army couldn’t stop them, then what are two wooden doors going to do?

They’re going to die. Highlea has fallen, their people are slaughtered, and they’re next.

Something slams against the doors, and the wood shudders. Maela cries out in fear. She wants desperately to turn and bury her face in Semira’s shoulder, but that’s unbecoming of a princess, even one who’s about to die. 

Another hit, and Semira drags her toward the thrones so that they can stand close to her mother. The other nobles and officials are clustered together on one side of the room, the guards facing the doors with their swords drawn as if the mere two of them can stop what no army has been able to.

The doors splinter on the third hit. 

On the fourth, they fly wide open. Soldiers in foreign armor pour into the hall past the battering ram. Maela stumbles backwards, clinging to the arm of her father’s empty throne.

The two guards are down within seconds, their blood leaking out onto the polished wooden floor. The officials are next, surrounded and murdered without even a chance to fight back. Their strangled gasps and cries imbed into Maela’s chest.

Then everything stops. The soldiers spread out across the room, filling up the corners yet leaving an open pathway down the center, and they simply stand there, facing the three remaining women. No one speaks, no one moves. Maela’s not sure she’s even breathing.

Footsteps click down the corridor, breaking the silence. A moment later, a woman sweeps into the room, her golden crown glinting in the torchlight. Her train, a brilliant red that nearly perfectly matches the blood on the floor, drags across the bodies of the guards as if they’re merely part of the landscape. 

There’s no mistaking who she is, even if Maela has never actually seen her before. She’s heard enough. The woman’s black hair is cropped close to her scalp in the style of the warm southern kingdom of Seland, her golden eyes outlined in kohl. 

There have been many rumors about those eyes, mostly from superstitious townsfolk who whisper that she can burn down entire kingdoms just from the force of her gaze. Standing here right now, watching the way they bore into both her and her mother in turn, Maela almost believes them. 

“Queen Haelyn,” the woman purrs. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

The queen sits stiff and poised on her throne. “Queen Edrice.”

“Actually, it’s Empress now, haven’t you heard?” Her smile makes Maela’s skin crawl. “Yours is only the latest in the line of kingdoms that are now under my rule.”

Without waiting for a response, she makes a motion with one hand and the soldiers closest to the doors immediately turn and walk back out of the room. A moment later, they return leading yet more soldiers. These, however, are dragging bodies behind them. 

The first is tossed roughly at the empress’ feet, and Maela’s gasp echoes through the room. 

“The king is dead,” Empress Edrice announces without breaking eye contact with Queen Haelyn. She raises one slender eyebrow. “Long live the king?”

The second body is dropped, then the third. 

“No,” Maela whispers. Her eyes dart back and forth between the three, grief seizing her chest until it feels like it will be crushed.  

“Oops.” Edrice gives a brief glance toward Adler, the eldest prince. “The king is dead…again.” 

She turns her head to consider Eiran, the youngest. “Oh. Well, this one is still alive.” 

Hope surges inside of Maela, despite how still and bloody her brother looks, only to falter when the empress speaks again. 

“Can any of you provide a reason that I should keep him that way?”

For an agonizingly long moment, complete silence falls over the crowded room. Maela looks desperately to her mother, afraid that she’s going to just sit there and allow this to happen. 

Her father is dead. Adler is dead. But Eiran is still alive, he can still be saved. Out of all the loss that has happened today, perhaps this one can be prevented. 

She and her brother are a long way from their days of sneaking treats to her father’s dogs and going on long horse rides together and making fun of nobility behind their backs. Their time now is spent in more appropriate pursuits for their titles, and very rarely in each other’s company. 

But she still loves him. 

Queen Haelyn finally speaks up, her voice a shadow of what it was a moment ago. “He’s…he’s just a boy.”

The empress hums in response. “Yes. A boy who is technically now the king. And unfortunately, I really don’t have a need for kings.”

“Please!” The word bursts from Maela before she can stop it, and she almost regrets it once she has Edrice’s full attention on her, shrinking back a little. She has to try, though, foolish as it may be. “Please…Your Majesty. Spare him.”

There’s that smile again, cruel and far too humored by the whole situation. “As pretty as your pleas are, dear, I’m afraid they’re not enough to stay my hand.”

She gives her wrist a flick, and the soldier who’d dragged Eiran in draws his sword, plunging it through the small gap in the prince’s armor. His body flails for only an instant before falling still again, blood spilling out from around the sword and coating his armor in a red sheen. 

With a wail, Maela crumples to her knees. It’s not proper behavior, but she doesn’t care. Her brothers and father are dead. Everything in her world is coming crashing down around her, and she has the horrifying feeling that it’s not about to stop. 

“Well that’s taken care of.” The nonchalance in her voice is maddening. “Now I suppose that leaves the queen.”

“No,” Maela sobs. “No, no, no…”

Another gesture from Empress Edrice, and two soldiers charge forward, seizing Queen Haelyn by both arms and jerking her from her throne. She doesn’t fight them, only stumbles forward as gracefully as possible under the circumstances, her chin lifted high as she’s planted in front of the empress. 

Maela lunges toward her, but is stopped by Semira’s arm thrown around her waist. She falls back to her knees, tears pouring down her cheeks. 

Even facing death in utter defeat, her mother is beautiful. She’s always been beautiful, always perfect, the picture of what a queen should be and what Maela must strive to be. Somehow she always knew that she could never be that perfect, though, and she feels it now more than ever. There’s no possible way that she will stare death in the face with that same poise and grace.

“Any last words, Your Majesty?”

Maela can see her mother’s shoulders rise and fall slightly as she takes in a breath, but the words that follow take her by surprise. “My daughter. She’s a child still, she’s no threat to you.”

Edrice’s lips purse in amusement. “Touching.” 

As much as she doesn’t want to watch, Maela can’t tear her eyes away. Another sword is drawn and thrust through Queen Haelyn’s middle, protruding bright red out her back. When it’s yanked back again, the soldiers let go of her arms, and she collapses to the floor. 

Maela’s whole family is lying dead in front of her. There’s so much blood, the wood underneath is barely visible anymore. 

Time warps, and she somehow spends an eternity staring at those four dead bodies while she weeps until her stomach hurts and her throat is raw. 

Meanwhile, Semira is pulled away from her, fighting desperately to keep hold but ultimately failing. Maela cries even harder at her loss. She wants to turn, to find out if her closest friend’s fate is the same as the others, but she’s trapped in this moment of unending grief, unable to move and too afraid to face yet another bloody death of a loved one. 

For an instant she thinks, a bit hysterically, that this can’t possibly be real. This whole day has been a dream, surely, a nightmare that she’ll wake from at any moment. 

But then the scent of blood hits her all over again, and she’s forced to face the terrifying truth. This is all very, very real. 

Suddenly Empress Edrice is standing directly in front of her. Maela can’t help flinching back. This is it, her time has now come. She wishes, selfishly, that she could have been first, that she wouldn’t have had to endure seeing everyone else’s deaths before her own. 

At least this way, her parents won’t have to witness her cowardice.

“Come now, dear, you’re alright.” The empress reaches out with long, slender fingers and tips Maela’s chin upwards so that she can look into her tear-soaked face. Her mouth twists into an expression that Maela doesn’t quite understand. 

“Such a pretty, pitiful little thing. Your mother was right, you’re no threat to me.” The fingers leave her chin and gracefully swipe some of the tears away before tracing her jawline. Maela shudders involuntarily. The touch is gentle, even kind. But she’s keenly aware that this same hand ordered the murder of her family just minutes ago. 

She’s also keenly aware that she doesn’t seem like she’s about to order hers. 

The expression on Empress Edrice’s face turns back into a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take very good care of you.”

Maela stares up at her with watery, bewildered black eyes. She’s…not going to kill her. Why? She should be glad, should feel at least some form of relief at knowing she doesn’t have to die. 

But somehow, living now seems like the more frightening option. 

[whatwhump]

Ex-Villain Whumpee: Pt. 4!

Hello lovely whump community! I apologize for how long this took me; I’m in school so it can be hard to find time to write sometimes. :) 

Anywho, thank you for all of the encouragement for this story! I’m excited to announce this will be an ongoing series! I’m not sure for how long, but what I anticipated as being only a few posts I think has potential to be a larger arc. I’m really excited to dive into these character’s relationship dynamics and plan to use all of my favorite whump tropes! I’ve got some pretty evil fun ideas in the works. ;) My goal is to update this story bi-weekly. 

This is by no means my best work because I’m just doing this for fun. I hope you don’t mind and still walk away with whumperflies! 

**For list of character names/roles as well as Parts 1-3, see the previous post here**

TW: whipping, torture, beating, self-harm reference, suicidal thoughts (of the passive ideation variety), severe self-esteem issues; bad caretaker

“I. Won’t. Break.” 

Despite their diminutive stature, Charlie towered over Alex as they writhed against restraints on the table of Eric Goodgrave's torture chamber interrogation room. 

Charlie stared down at their victim grimly. “You will. You have to,” they responded matter-of-factly. 

Both of them were sweating beneath the bright, hot lights. They were going on hour three of their little dance, now. Charlie still held the whip but it now dangled lifelessly beside them. They simply stared down their victim. Cool. Calm. Collected. 

Alex–lying on their stomach–strained their neck to glare back at them, practically seething with rage. The anger protected them; as long as they held on to the fury deep within, it helped distract them from the excruciating burning all across their bare back. Yes, inside that room and beyond, anger protected them from the brutal realities of life as a hero. 

Charlie began the interrogation in a suit with a buttoned-up white dress shirt. By now, though, they had abandoned the blazer and rolled up their sleeves. It struck Alex as a strange juxtaposition. Here they were, being torn apart by this…this psychopath, as if they had just arrived home from their 9 to 5 to find the dog had peed in the house and were slightly irritated.

“Tell me where the team is,” Charlie murmured, slowly raising the whip up off the ground in a warning. 

Alex wanted the suffering to stop more than anything; they’d already passed out–twice–and hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in at least two days. But not more than they wanted to keep their teammates safe. No, they cared about them too much. They would die for them, there was no doubt in their mind. Alex scowled; unfortunately, although they wished to spit right in Charlie’s stupid face as they had at the start of the session, their parched mouth could no longer produce any saliva. I think I might die here, they thought to themselves…

That’s when they saw it. How hadn’t they seen it before?! 

Charlie’s dress shirt had shifted just enough to reveal a tattoo on their collarbone—a tattoo of a sparrow…the symbol of the hero's resistance. Identical to the tattoo they had as well! 

A roguish smile crossed Alex’s battered face. 

“So…what’s it like to be a traitor?” Charlie’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Your defection from the Hero’s League, silly!” Charlie’s face flashed with surprise momentarily before they returned to their stoic expression. 

“I think the blood loss is getting to you.” 

“Come on! Spill the tea!” cried Alex. Charlie tightened their grip on the whip and took a menacing step forward. 

“Ughhh–FINE, Mopey-Pants,” they said rolling their eyes. “Lucky for you I’m a good guesser. Hmmm….let’s see. You…stole documents with sensitive information?” 

Charlie sighed. “Stop this. Just spit it out already. There’s no other way you’re getting out of this.”

“Ok, not that one, then. Ummmm…failed a dangerous mission that resulted in the deaths of thousands?  Yikes, that’s definitely a big no-no! How about…unencrypted the hero’s security system? Staged a coup?”

Charlie was starting to get red in the face. Of course, this only provoked Alex to push further. 

“What about damaging top-secret technology?” 

“Alex–”

“Oooh oooh, I know! You shared your secret identity? Took an extra tray of tater-tots in the cafeteria?” 

“STOP,” Charlie exclaimed, adjusting their stance uncomfortably. They weren’t used to these things not going their way, of not having total control. The grin on Alex’s face spread even wider. 

“What about just sucking at doing your job, plain and simple?” 

“I will give you twenty more lashes if you don’t–”

“I’ve got it! You fell in love with a co-worker!” 

Alex opened their mouth once more to continue their diatribe but paused. It was slight, barely perceptible, but they saw it. Charlie’s eyes had widened a bit on that one… 

“Wait…seriously? Oh. My. GOD!! You actually–” Alex burst into laughter. But honestly, it wasn’t just to piss them off. It was genuinely ridiculous to them. (And the blood loss and malnutrition wasn’t helping either). 

“You have got to be kidding me! But I guess it’s kinda sweet; you had a little office crush!” Alex mocked, their eyes sparkling in pure, unbridled joy at the humiliation evident on Charlie’s face. 

“That’s–that’s not true,” Charlie stammered. “You’re just making shit up! Stop this nonsense because I swear I’ll–”

“You were actually so butt-hurt that after they broke your heart you became evil?” 

“Shut–”

“Your self-esteem is so fragile you actually became a villain! Like a coward! A self-pitying, coward!” 

Charlie was pissed now. Mortified and pissed. Their chest heaved as their breathing grew heavy and their nostrils flared. They couldn’t get a word in as Alex continued to denigrate them.

“What are you, an incel?! How absolutely–” 

“STOP–”

“PATHETIC!” Alex wheezed. They were howling with laughter now. So invested in the hilarity of the situation and having pulled one over on their abuser, Alex didn’t notice as Charlie…well…broke. 

“You were NEVER a true hero! You’re just a slimy, insecure, foolish bastard! Oh lord, whoever broke up with you dodged a HUGE bullet! Like what kinda idiot thinks you of all–” 

“SHUT UP!!!! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!! DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF THEM! DON’T YOU DARE INSULT THEM IN MY PRESENCE!” 

What happened next was a blur, for both hero and villain. Charlie whipped out the knife from their pocket and slashed it across Alex’s face. Then, they wrenched back the whip and slammed it against Alex’s back, over and over and over again. They were absolutely relentless, the entire time screaming, “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” 

Alex screamed as Charlie used more force than they had before. The lacerations already on their back deepened, scarlet red practically flooding off the sides of table. Charlie’s barrage just would not stop. Tears streamed out of Alex’s eyes as apologized profusely and begged for it to stop. Soon their vision grew blurry and they silently thanked God for the embrace of unconsciousness. But they knew this nightmare would still be here when they woke up. 

Before they completely lost touch, they managed to shriek…

~ 

“I’LL TELL YOU!” 

Alex shot out of bed with a whimper. They ware disoriented at first, still babbling through sobs, before their eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. They are in the cell. Goodgrave’s cell. The small skylight above them emanates the soft, bluish glow of early morning hours. Dew drops dot the dirty glass and they become aware of just how cold the room is. The calmness felt eerie and unsettling after such a nightmare. 

Then they looked beside them. 

Seeing Charlie asleep in the bed brought back a tsunami of memories from the day prior. It generated a visceral reaction in them–making their stomach churn in knots and their heart pound even faster. Immediately they bolted off the bed, backing away until they were on the other side of the room. They sunk down to the floor and watched as their enemy remained asleep. 

Charlie had the blanket draped over them but it was thin and raggedy; no match for the icy, winter morning. They shivered and their teeth clattered slightly. They were still covered in blood and bruises from the night before and hugged the broken arm to their stomach. It bent at a disturbing angle and was an angry red color. But what Alex noticed the most was their pallid face. It was drawn down in frown. Grime and blood painted their cheeks. 

Without even thinking about it Alex’s finger softly ghosted along the scar across their face. They stood up and crossed the cell to the small mirror hanging above the dirty, old sink. They’d become used to it by now. Their mind spun in circles, overrun and overwhelmed. 

The prone figure behind them couldn’t hurt them now. Not just because they were asleep, or because they had become weak and sickly after their time with Eric, but because by the time Charlie was taken captive by the Hero’s Alliance eight months prior they were a shell of themselves. The stoic, fearsome interrogator they once knew was replaced by a nervous, obedient individual. Ripley said Charlie seemed genuinely repentant. To the point of self-disgust. Alex refused to believe this. (They did notice the way Charlie avoided looking at themselves in the mirror, and a couple times noticed the scars they tried to hide beneath long sleeves. They noticed it because Alex used to be like that, too. But Alex didn’t care…how could they?) 

“Alex.” 

Alex jumped, startled by the groggy voice, and spun around. Charlie was using their good arm to prop themselves up. They could only open one eye, the other nearly swollen shut and mottled with purple, black splotches. 

“Sorry,” Charlie whispered. They ducked their head as the tips of their ears reddened. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” Alex hummed in response. A moment of awkward silence elapsed. Alex focused on removing a piece of lint from their shirt and did their best to look completely unperterbed despite their recent dream.

 “Are you…um…are you okay?” Charlie asked. 

“I’m fine.” An awkward silence filled the space between them once more. Charlie tried to move from their position but quickly regretted it, hissing as their broken arm was jostled. Cautiously, Alex neared the bed. They shifted their weight as they watched their enemy struggle to sit up. 

Charlie appeared to still be in the throes of a fever. They let themselves fall back on the bed. Their eyes seemed glazed, lids half open and struggling to stay that way. Again, they tried to sit up but only managed to hurt themselves once more. They moaned as their arm burned and their head throbbed with a migraine. 

Alex hesitated momentarily, and then untied the sweatshirt from around their waist. “We need to do a make-shift cast for your arm. It will take some of the weight off it.” 

“Oh no, it’s fine. Really. You keep it. It’s cold in here. Thank you.” 

“No, you need it or it’ll get worse.” 

“I swear I’m fine. You need it, you–” 

Alex huffed stubbornly and began reaching for their enemy anyways. They were taken aback when Charlie flinched. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, you idiot,” Alex bit out, annoyed. I should be the one flinching, not you! They thought to themselves. Resentment bubbled up to the surface and Alex tried to focus on putting villain in a positon where they could make the cast to distract themselves from it. 

“Sorry. I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I did that. It was–yeah. I’m–” 

“Just stop talking, okay?” Alex barked. Charlie bit their lip and nodded ashamedly. 

Alex’s resentment manifested as roughly tending to the villain. Charlie did their best to not make a sound but when Alex harshly man-handled the broken arm into it’s place in the cast they winced and whimpered. 

“Stop whining. You’re the reason we’re in this mess. You should have left when I told you to!” 

“I know…I’m so sorry.” 

“If Team Lead had just listened to me in the first place…ugh. They’re way too nice to you. You don’t deserve their sympathy. Pff. You don’t deserve anything really.” 

“...I–nngghhh–agree,” mumbled Charlie weakly.

“Yeah right. I don’t believe you.” Alex grins as they glance over to see Charlie’s face; they wanted to watch their words hurt in real time. Instead, Alex didn’t feel the joy they expected. They could tell Charlie was holding back tears. One escaped and Charlie hastily wiped it away. 

Something felt wrong in the pit of Alex’s stomach. Their grin quickly dissipated. 

They had finished with the cast and were about to get up when they noticed just how much blood still covered Charlie’s neck and chest. They retrieved and wet a cloth like they had the night before. 

“Let’s clean this up a bit. I don’t like the smell of blood,” they rationalized. Charlie’s eyes were half-mast and they nodded woozily. While wiping their face Alex felt heat radiating off their nemesis’ forehead. 

Charlie swayed slightly and they steadied them. 

“You feeling nauseous?” Charlie shook their head. Alex shot them a look. 

“...A little. But it’s really not that bad. I’m fine.” 

“Here. Drink this. Then you need to lie down.” They took a cup of water they had filled at the sink and made Charlie take a few sips. Alex put their hand behind Charlie’s neck and slowly lowered them. Charlie hissed in pain once more. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be quiet” they reassured. 

Within a few minutes Charlie’s eyes were closed. Alex decided to lay down again and try to get more rest if they could. It was quiet except for the slightly congested breathing coming from Charlie. 

Faintly came the sound of someone whistling. It grew closer and closer until footsteps echoed outside in the hall as well. Charlie’s eyes shot open and they strained to sit up, a look of horror on their face. 

“He’s coming.” 

“It’s probably the guard. Go back to sleep,” Alex warned. 

“NO. It’s...” 

Abruptly, keys rattle in the door and it swings open. Eric Goodgrave’s lanky frame waltzes in and a mischievous smile spreads across his face. 

“Oh goody, you’re both awake! Alex, my dear: may I ask you a personal question?”  

TAG LIST: @whump-blog @whumpsday @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room @termsnconditions-apply @the-whumpers-grimm @elizaisnotokay @whumpwillow @asthefirerisesblog @kiratheperson @slightlyexpiredyogurt8 @stuck-in-this-mortal-form @itsmyworld23 @maracujatangerine

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Soooo as I told you, I want to write something for 3K and that’s gonna be a hero x villain series! (I was thinking about 3 - 5 parts [typical story structure I know CALL ME A NERD]).

I know people aren’t that interested in series, at least not on my blog and that’s okay! However, I would love to write something that’s a bit longer, something that goes more into depth and explores characters. Something that has a bit of everything: whump, angst, smut, comfort.

Thanks to my two favourite people in the entire world, I (we) have come up with a vague idea of where this is gonna go. But now it’s your decision:

I’m very excited and I hope you’re gonna stick with me and enjoy it as well 🥲

[16woodsequ]

Fic ask game: 3, 4, 19, & 20!

From this ask game! Thank you! ♥

3. What is your absolute favorite kind of fic to write?

Another type of fic I love to write is when I can show off some of the research I've done. It is immensely satisfying to me to finish a fic and feel that it is at least somewhat close to accurate. I know I can never know everything and the past is so variable, but I love providing snap shots of it using what I've learned.

4. Are there any other fic writers you admire? If so, who and why?

Oh gosh. I really admire @jinxquickfoot. Her weakness series is such amazing whump! If I had more time I'd write so much whump. I think it's really impressive how broad of a character range she writes in that series. She writes all sorts of characters which is an amazing skill.

19. Why did you start writing?

Because I had thoughts and feelings about characters and I needed other people to see the character as I did! Basically I realised no one could know or even consider my headcanons unless I shared them and that basically lead to a 'in this essay i will' type mindset for fic writing XD

20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of

The other day I started a Selkie Steve Rogers fic that I am now obsessed with. It's not done yet, but here's a sneak peek at four lines from it:

“Never let anyone know what that pelt means to you,” Sarah warns him, a hint of bitterness in her voice as she lays him in bed to sleep next to the stove, watching as he buries his face into the fur next to his pillow. “Never give your pelt to anyone, dear. Do you understand me?” The first time Joe takes his pelt and hides it as punishment for some slight, Steve understands.  A deep ache opens up in his chest, and he suffers his first of what doctors call asthma attacks.

[lady-of-the-spirit]

3, 8, 9, 20, 27, 32, 35, 51, 53 and 64 for the fic writer ask game!

3. on a scale of 1-10 how much do you enjoy incorporating romance into the average story?

It has its place, and I am guilty of slipping romance or at least shippy vibes into fics that I did not INTEND to be romantic. I also like writing it in general, even though I struggle with writing the physical aspects (kissing). so I'd say, probably like, a 7/10. which is surprising, because the majority of my fics are rated Gen.

actually I went and figured out that out of all my fics, 70% of them are rated gen which I think is a fun coincidence.

8. what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it?

If I ask for it, I would like it. I don't want it if I didn't ask for it. I may still read it and consider it, but I'm gonna be annoyed by it. Feedback in general? fine - but I do like more than just "I liked this", although I love those comments. when I'm looking for FEEDBACK though, I need more than that. I need to know all your thoughts.

9. in an ideal world where you’re already super successful and published, would you want to see a tv or movie adaptation of your work? why or why not?

If I'm involved, why not? I think the majority of my (imagined) works would work better as a series, though. We've seen how turning longer works into movies works - usually not very well. I want to see my ocs on the screen. (in my dream world it would be an animated show, especially the fantasy ones, but we can't have everything in this live action obsessed world.)

20. what is your favorite trope to write?

soft fics: found family

hurt/comfort fics: trauma reveals

27. do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished? And who do you share them with?

depends on how much thought I put into a fic. I'll usually at least scan through and reread fics before publishing, but if it's a fic I wrote in one sitting totally at random? I'll skim it and then post without thinking twice. Fics that I put more thought in, I'll go over at least a few times before publishing. I've only shared rough drafts a few times, and that's when I'm really unsure about the story for some reason and need someone to give it a scan and let me know their thoughts.

32. do characters influence your writing style?

oh definitely!! Every character is a little different so that changes how I write their perspective, so that automatically changes the voice I use when I'm writing.

35. tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot

Most characters I love a whole lot are very different from me lmao but the one who comes to mind most of all is probably Yataka from Arata the Legend. He's a very prim and proper man, very focused on etiquette and being a gentleman, he hates being touched, is obsessed with cleanliness, and also is a HUGE bitch, will bicker like a 5 year old with his best friend (neither of them would admit to being best friends and have one of THE MOST dynamics of all time), and has the capacity for extreme violence and absolutely unhinged behaviour. he also hates himself so much. I'm obsessed with him I love him so much.

51. share the synopsis of a story you work on that you haven’t published yet

Sersi gets harassed/assaulted and the team/whoever sees it are fiercely protective. (aka more Sersi whump and team dynamics.) (I'm still debating whether Ikaris should know or not because he may straight up kill the person.)

53.when writing, do you have an outline? and do you stick to it?

depends on how much I care about the details of the story, or how much I want to get it right. Especially if it's a longer fic, I want to plan as much as I can ahead of time. Or if it deals with more serious topics, I want to figure out how to deal with those ahead of time.

64. what is your favourite title for a fic you’ve read?

5 Times Where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji Lose a Braincell and 1 Time Where They Lose Another on account of it being a perfect summary of the fic.

fanfic writer ask game

[fictional-at-heart]

Writer’s Tag Game

Tagged by @sassyandclassy94

1. Link to your masterlist:

I don’t have a masterlist, but I’ll link my AO3 here!🫶🏻

2. Favorite and least favorite genres to write (angst/smut/fluff, etc):

My ultimate favorite is whump! But I’m not sure what my least favorite is. I’ve never attempted smut, and fluff can be fun to write (even though I’m more of a whump girl)

3. Favorite characters to write for?

Hiccup and Astrid, definitely! And I also really enjoy writing for Bobby, and Billy is a lot of fun too!

4. Which one of your works is your favorite?

Can I cheat and say three?👉🏻👈🏻 Before the Flame Goes Out, my first Hiccup whump, Go Ahead and Throw Your Stones, my Bobby whump, and I’ll Bleed Out For You, my Billy the Kid whump

5. Which one of your works is more popular than you thought it would be?

Before the Flame Goes Out. That was my first whumpy fanfic, and if you’d told me it would get 3,819 hits and 218 kudos, I probably would’ve laughed and said yeah right. And here it is today, two years later, still collecting hits and kudos. 🥹

6. Which one of your works is less popular than you thought it would be?

Safe In the Arms Of Love (Billy the Kid) and Dog Kennel (The Boys in the Boat). Although, maybe more so Safe in the Arms of Love. I suppose Dog Kennel I kind of expected to flop. But it doesn’t matter because I like it, and it’s wholesome mischief between the boys. 😌

7. Which one of your fics was hardest to write? Why?

Own All Your Tears and Just Roll With the Waves, I think. (Gosh, looking back, that is a looong title… oops) Not that it was that difficult to write technically, but that particular week leading up to that was really tough for me with grieving my Nana, and so I kind of channeled that into a one shot about Hiccup grieving Stoick. So while that wasn’t technically hard for me to write, it was still hard for me to write… does that make sense?

8. What is your favorite fanfic by someone else?

Oh!! Oh!!! The Tangling and The Raveling by bannisterroadkill!!! That fanfiction has SUCKED me in, and I tell you, whenever I get an email that she updated, I know I’m in for a wonderful little treat that I’m going to inhale! It’s the Tangled story with Hiccup and Astrid, BUT she’s put her own twists into it to make it her own. It’s still Tangled, but also not. Then you get to The Raveling and your mind is just blown. And her characterization is always on point! I never once thought she wrote anyone out of character. She’s truly one of the best fanfic writers ever!

I also forget what it’s called, but one of @milliesfishes with her Daisy character. That series makes you feel every single possible feel that can be felt reading a series. 🥹 She is also SUCH a talented writer!!

I don’t know many writers on here, but I’ll tag my fav three🫶🏻 But if anyone else sees this and wants to do it, you’re tagged! @bannisterroadkill @milliesfishes @francixoxoxo

[sunshiline-writes]

Some more facts about me.

I know I already made an introduction post. But this is kinda a more in depth version? With my previous post I just kinda wanted to say hi and I’m here.

So here are some cool facts about me if you’re so keen on knowing.

My name is Sunny and I am a 20 year old Mexican-American. Soon to be 21 in June hehe.

I am chronically ill and spend a lot of time in hospitals and emergency rooms. Writing helps me keep busy when I’m bored in a hospital bed

I have ADHD, Bi-polar, BDP, and anxiety all of which make appearances in my writing.

When I was a kid I used to eat rocks lmfao.

Here are some of my favorite whump tropes I love to read/write and what you will probably see in my writings

Creepy/Intimate Whumper

Minor whump (don’t like don’t read I’ll provide CW whenever it appears)

POC whump (as a POC I tend to put myself in the characters I create, assume that all my OCS are POC unless said otherwise, don’t like, don’t read)

Captivity whump and POW whump

Parental caretaker

Begging/whipping/branding (all favs)

Brainwashing/cults/forced to participate

I like darker stories in general so that’s probably what you’ll see here

Things that you will NOT see in my writings are:

Hospital whump or any of that type of setting

Chronic illness

I also have some of my favorite whump blogs that have been super helpful and lovely with introducing me to the whump community and stuff. Also some stories that I LOVE are

• @coldresolve Moneymakers series

• @for-the-love-of-angst and Pretty much ALL of their writings fr fr Im obessed, but especially their Taron writings.

• @darkthingshappen and all of their writings too. Like wow so incredible

• and there are so many more but this is already getting kinda long lmfao.

Okay okay one more thing! I have a WIP that I will be posting pretty soon. Here’s what it’s about:

Jeremiah has lived with the Oculi his whole life. Training and being used as a weapon against people he doesn’t even know. His powers make him a rare commodity within the Oculi, able to generate electricity in his hands. Why Is he fighting and what Is he fighting for arent questions that he used to ask. At least he didn’t use to ask questions until Benjamin came along. Now he finds himself wanting to leave the place he grew up in and live a quiet life that he’s only heard of. Now he just has to escape his awful handler Zachary who can make anyone do anything he wants with just a flick of his hands.

Things that will be involved in this story:

•POC whump, minor whump, superpower whump, captivity and POW whump, role reversals of MC playing all three roles of whumper/whumpee/caretaker.

Just let me know if you’re interested

[muchamusedaboutnothing]

Heart of a Hunter Act VII - Ch. 13

Heart of a Hunter Act VII - Ch. 13

Characters: Dean x doctor!Reader, Sam Winchester

This story is Act 7 of a saga.

New to the story? Get caught up on the Heart of a Hunter Saga here.

All your favorite Winchesters are alive, in spite of the curse that nearly took them from you. After coming so close to losing the only family you have left in this world, you’re taking matters into your own hands. There’s a witch to hunt.

Series Warnings:

Character injuries/sickness - Take note that no one is excluded from this.

Canon-typical violence and language.

Lots of whump.

Lots of caring for hurt characters.

Smut (18 Only. NSFW. You were warned.)

Angst.

Fluff.

Medical talk. Is that even a warning

Image Credit: bing image search, google image search, @rainbow-motors

Wordcount: 1600

Chapter  13

You holstered your .380 and gripped the .40 caliber instead, quickly replacing the magazine for a full one with Devil's trap rounds.

There was another demon downstairs, but he’d grown quiet. He'd most likely assume whoever had killed the others would have met their end when they located the powerful Borrower Witch.

That would be his first mistake.

It would only take him a moment to reach the office you stood in. You had to act quickly.

The Borrower Witch's desk drawer had a perfectly arranged assortment of writing tools, from fountain pens to wide tip permanent markers. You had to hand it to her, she had impeccable organizational skills, and apparently an Office Max fetish.

You gripped a marker and had to bite your tongue to keep from groaning in pain as you knelt down to scrawl the design on the floorboards before pulling the rug over to cover it

Then you moved to the corner and stood as blood seeped down the side of your pants.

You held your gun at the ready, aiming for the doorway. It was less than a minute before the demon appeared in your open sights.

To your absolute shock, this new demon wore the face of a man who could have been your late brother's doppelganger.

He noticed the witch's lifeless body across the room and immediately bolted forward to reach her, not realizing you were in the corner until it was too late.

The devil's trap you'd hidden beneath the rug prevented him from going any further. He was stuck. And thank God he was. Because you still stared in frozen, horrified fascination at the uncanny resemblance.

You forced your feet to move, taking a step forward to get a better look at him. You hadn't seen this demon milling around before. You'd have noticed. That much was certain. He had to be the patient Sam and Dean couldn’t find a picture of.

But now here you were, faced with a look-alike that could have fooled even your mother. He was younger than your brother had been when he'd died, but only by a few years.

"Damn hunters,” he spat vehemently as you stared.

You pointed your gun at him, hand trembling as you lined up the sights. Maybe it was the relief coursing through your veins at having finally killed the witch. More than likely it was the fact that seeing your brother's face, or at least one eerily similar to it, had completely derailed you.

"My my…. If you're offering up your own pretty meat suit, we could definitely have fun, you know."

You knew you should, but you couldn't pull the trigger. Not with him practically wearing your brother's face like that. The eyes. The chin. God, it was unreal how much he looked like him….

You hadn't planned for this possibility when you'd blocked the only doorway out of the room by making the devil's trap right there, but you couldn't get past him without killing him.

Hadn’t Dean said the other patient had been in a medically induced coma but expected to make a recovery. His prognosis had been good before the demon had decided to wear him. If there was even the slightest chance the man was still intact - could be saved from the demon possessing him and go on with his life - shouldn't you at least try?

Logically you knew you should end it now. But your heart had been so bruised and battered with feelings of loss. Shards of hope we're the only thing that had kept you sane once Jonah had gotten sick. Your instinct now was to hold onto that hope with an iron grip.

You also couldn't put off getting yourself some first aid. You lowered your gun and the demon laughed. The sound was nothing like your brother’s laugh.

You'd have to come back for him. The demon was trapped here for now. And you could only hope he was the last of the Borrower Witch's posse of demon thugs.

You moved to the window and saw the fire escape. It got you down to the ground one ladder rung at a time, ignoring the jeers from the demon inside and bleeding as you went. Once at your truck, you were able to use some gauze and an ace bandage wrap tied around your waist to more effectively slow the bleeding there before you got behind the wheel.

You white-knuckled the steering wheel with bloody fingers in an effort to get your hands to stop shaking. You had to sit there a few seconds and let it really sink in that it was over.

The witch was dead.

She’d never come after your family again. It was over. As the reality washed over you, relief bubbled up in the form of tears, streaking your cheeks as you blinked to clear your vision and pulled out onto the road.

"Hey, I've been worried sick," Dean breathed into the phone the moment you said his name.

"It's done," you said with finality. "She’s dead.”

"Oh my god, sweetheart.... Are - are you okay?"

You stifled a humorless laugh, choosing your words carefully. "I, uh, I've been worse," you tried.

"I don't like the sound of that. How bad is it?" he demanded.

"Nothing I can't handle," you added, regretting that you'd freaked him out.

"Given your high pain tolerance, that doesn't do a whole lot to make me feel better," he stated. "Do you need to get to the hospital? It's right there, isn't it?"

"No, I'll be fine. Besides, I can't very well explain this. Given that I showed up asking about locum work, they'd definitely want answers, and the last thing I need is the police getting involved. But I can handle it. I'll patch myself up at the motel."

"Alright," Dean said. "Get yourself to the motel. I'll head your way."

You were turning a corner in the truck and pulled into a dark parking lot, needing to adjust the ace bandage around your waist.

"And sweetheart? You did great," Dean added proudly. “I love you."

You took a deep breath as you put the truck in park. "Thanks, honey. I love you. Gotta go."

You hung up the phone and dropped it on the passenger seat. Gritting your teeth against the searing pain, you pulled the knot loose which allowed you to slide another roll of gauze in between your skin and the elastic bandage before tightening it up again. You hoped it would be enough to get you back to the room this time. You couldn't really afford to keep stopping.

By the time you reached the motel you were feeling more than a little lightheaded. With some effort, you managed to grab the med kit and hold onto it while still unlocking the door to your room.

Once inside you went to the bathroom and set the kit on the sink, pulling out disinfectant and tearing open gauze rolls with your teeth.

With the large mirror you had a better view as you tried to gauge where best to begin. To your relief, the bleeding from your thigh had slowed considerably, prompting you to address the knife wound in your side first. You knew the bullet would be the worst and didn't want to start there.

With fresh blood dripping down your side now that you'd poked and prodded to examine the full extent of the damage just above your hip, you willed your hands to stop shaking.

The lightheaded feeling progressed as you cleaned the cut in your side, morphing into full-on waves of dizziness as you worked. Beads of sweat dampened your forehead, and you leaned against the countertop for support while cleaning the wound to your satisfaction.

Grabbing a needle driver and a packet of 4-O nylon suture, you managed to place several sutures before you realized your knees wouldn't hold you upright anymore. You had no choice but to lower yourself onto the linoleum floor and continue, though it was an awkward angle to be working as you sat and you couldn't see as easily with the small mirror from your kit, even after propping it up at an angle against the cabinet.

When the dizziness increased, you did your best to push through it one suture at a time.

You were tired. So. Damn. Tired.

All you wanted to do was nap. Some of that was the result of crashing after the adrenaline rush, and the rest you could chalk up to blood loss.

Mustering up your Doctor Mode while patching yourself up was almost like an out-of-body experience. Or at least the dizziness made it seem that way.

You could do this. You’d managed to kill the goddamn witch. You could handle patching yourself up. You just needed to get it over with and then you could rest.

Real rest.

The kind of rest that came when you didn’t have to spend every second of the day worrying that a witch was going to come after your infant son and the rest of your family.

You realized your focus was drifting a little too easily when you found yourself wondering what sort of campy slasher movie scene the cab of your truck must look like after your drive back to the motel.

You shook your head a little to clear it, regretting the move instantly as a wave of nausea rolled over you, bringing the dizziness to a whole new level.

You remembered thinking 'Damnit, I'm going down,' just in time to lean your head back against the wall before your vision went black and you slipped into unconsciousness.

Act VII Masterlist.

You can find the Masterlist for the Heart of a Hunter Saga here.

Please consider supporting my writing by buying me a coffee. In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.

Tags are currently closed. Message me if you'd like to be added to the tags for when it opens again.

*HOAH Text divider by the brilliant Talesmaniac89

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[snakebites-and-ink]

Working Normally

I’m feeling ready to try my hand at posting whump series made of several chapters! I’m starting with one of the probably less-ambitious of my planned multi-part WIPs so I can smoothly ease myself into writing longer series.

Meet Asher, a pet who (with his master’s permission) holds a job as an IT guy. Set in the box boy universe.

The current plan is for me to post a new chapter about every two weeks, but whether I’m able to maintain this will be dependent on how much of a writing stockpile I can create during winter break ^^'

Masterlist - Chapter 2

CW: BBU, pet whump, dehumanization

“Did you try powering it off and turning it back on?

That was a question Asher always had to ask. At least half the time that was all it took to fix something, yet surprisingly few people tried it before calling for him.

“Do I look stupid to you?” The man asked.

Asher swallowed back a sigh. “Of course not. I just have to ask so I know what you’ve already tried.”

The answer seemed to mollify the man. “Yeah, I turned it off and back on. It’s still broken.”

Asher nodded and sat in front of the computer. “I’ll see what I can do.”

It was often a delicate balance, fixing people’s issues without offending them. Most people didn’t like the idea of a pet knowing better than them—at least when it came to anything beyond trained positions and how to beg nicely. Even when they had a totally different area of expertise than him.

Asher, at least, was good enough at staying polite and respectful that he could usually keep them appeased. Sometimes people were completely happy with him the whole time. More often, there was a subtle tension as they decided whether they thought he was being too presumptuous or not, which he was usually able to defuse with deference.

There was occasionally also a case where someone decided to escalate things, which could become quite unpleasant for Asher. As a pet, he simply wasn’t entitled to the same rights or the same basic decency as a human being. And if he fought back, he would face much larger consequences than they would. At least they couldn’t physically hurt him, though, without having to face his master’s wrath for damaging his property. Asher’s punishments were his master’s alone to dish out.

After spending a while troubleshooting, Asher was able to get the computer working normally again. The guy said “thank you,” which was more than some people did when Asher solved their problem. Asher responded with the obligatory “You’re welcome,” in the friendly voice that said he was always happy to help, and bade the man have a nice afternoon.

Only when he was in the hallway, out of earshot, did Asher let out a sigh. Being a pet who had a place in the world of people had its perks, but ease certainly wasn’t one of them. His collar marked him out as different, lesser even, and once someone saw that, he was treated as such. And being a pet did make him different in some ways, but it didn’t make him as far beneath everyone as most people seemed to think. Others cared less about what he was actually capable of than about the role they thought he ought to fill.

At least his owner was more open-minded. Asher didn’t know how he would have handled it if he’d ended up with someone who wasn’t willing to give him any amount of power over his own life. Asher was glad he belonged to someone who allowed him a fair level of independence, even if that did come with its difficulties.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

a fanfic writer questionnaire that you should absolutely do

Filling out my own questionnaire :) For funsies.

THE BASICS

Name(s): Lurkinglurkerwholurks

Where do you post fic? AO3, with Tumblr crossposting

Primary/current fic writing fandom: BatFam

Secondary/past/rotating fic writing fandoms: MCU (3 fics) with secondary tags on the BatFam posts to Stranger Things, Tenet, and Queen’s Thief.

Are there fandoms you write for but don’t read, or vice versa? I don’t read any of those secondary tags. I don’t write but very selectively read Star Wars, Star Trek, and FMA. (I used to read TAZ but don’t anymore.)

THE STATS

How long have you been writing fics? Since March 2018. I posted my first fic that April.

How many have you written? 91 (holy cow)

How many have you posted (complete or incomplete)? 91. One of those is incomplete and one is in progress. I have fragments of a couple more, but not enough to even count as half fics.

What’s your word count by year? Not totally sure because my two big fics stretched across multiple years. According to AO3:

2018 - 83,394

2019 - 102,244

2020 - 164,370

2021 - 114,915

2022 - 79,981 (so far)

But with the understanding that Nature and Nurture (109,065) started in 2018 and ended in 2020 and The Return (52,589) started in 2020 and ended in 2021.

What was your first posted fic? Mother Bruce and His Baby Birds

If you write in more than one fandom, which is your most popular? BatFam. By far.

What is your most popular fic by bookmark? The Return. 2,496.

What is your most popular fic by subscription? Also The Return, lol. 1,171

What is your longest fic? Nature and Nurture. Word count listed above.

How long did it take you to write it? Published dates are from 5/3/2018, to 3/5/2020. SYMMETRY. I can’t remember how long that first chapter took me to write, though, and I had the last chapter written at least a week before I posted it.

What is your shortest fic? Choose - Lose. 699 words.

How long did it take you to write it? Less than a day. Maybe less than an hour, even. I kind of went into a writerly fugue state and banged it out.

How many series do you have? 14. That is so many.

Who’s your most commonly tagged character? Bruce Wayne (66)

What’s your most commonly tagged relationship (slash or &)? “Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne” and “Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne” are both tied at 16. I... don’t think I have any /.

What’s your most commonly used other tag? Whump (26). Thanks, Whumptober.

THE EMOTIONS

Was there a fic or writer who inspired you to start writing your own posted works? @audreycritter​ and @unpretty​. Unpretty intrigued me with a Batman I didn’t hate. Audrey reeled me in with CEC. But also @starknjarvis27​ because I wanted to surprise her.

What do you remember about writing your first posted fic? Nerves. So many nerves.

Is there a fic or fics you’re most proud of, and why? I answered that here and the full answer is way too long!

Is there a fic you would redo completely if you could? Mother Bruce. Not because I don’t like it (I do! very much!) but because it was my first fic ever. I’m a better writer now, for one, and also while I think that BatFam is a nice BatFam, it may not necessarily be my BatFam, you know?

Is there a specific detail (setting, interaction, quirk, dialogue) you stole from your own life to use in a fic? Oh gosh, so many. I steal little bits and pieces from people I know all the time, because those tend to be the things that give the fictional people I write about texture. “How did you ever think to make up ____.” Eh, if it’s a small things, odds are I didn’t. I can’t come up with an example right now, but when I do, I’ll ETA.

Is there a line in your fic that makes you smile/snicker/chuckle every time you remember it? I give most of my best lines to Jason, but Tim’s breeziness never fails to delight me. “His therapist would call that a red flag, but que sera sera, YOLO, and so forth” is a classic. Also Bruce’s flummoxed “Did you just try to batarang me… with me?”

Is there a line in your fic that makes you sad every time you remember it? lollllllllll. Well. I have 6 works tagged “I Made Myself Cry,” so. But Damian’s I’m sorry I was difficult. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to be a good son. I’m sorry I was such an awful brother. I’m sorry I made you so angry. Please don’t be sad for too long. Please don’t forget about me. still hits hard.

Are there any story ideas you’ve considered but are too nervous/intimidated to attempt? What are they? Yes. No spoilers, but one of these days I’m going to recreate a specific scene from a specific non-DC show that has stuck with me for years.

[whumpsick]

A Willing Sacrifice

Hi hello I read this series of posts from @jordanstrophe earlier today and they were so good that they put me into a STATE and I started writing my own story based on theirs. 1300 words later I present this, which I have edited very minimally so I apologize for any typos. I think I'll stick with this idea for a bit, it's been very fun so far and I for one would like to see where my brain goes with it. Thanks for the inspo @jordanstrophe!

CW: lady whump, taken captive, blood/injury, hurt/comfort (mostly hurt at this point), manhandled

“She’s a goner, no point trying to get her back to transport.” 

Allison could barely hear her sergeant’s voice over the rush of blood in her ears. She felt like she’d been hit by a truck, specifically on the right side of her gut. “I’m okay,” she tried to say, “Just give me a minute.” But her small unit was already turning away, walking off into the scrubby desert landscape. She continued pleading, but no one was answering, no one was there. It was just her and the atypically overcast sky above. 

Eventually she managed to sit herself up. She cast about for her weapon and realized her team must have taken it with them. She examined the slow-gushing wound on her stomach, which looked nothing like the damage a blaster usually left behind. Were these people using fucking bullets? Even in a rural area like this, she didn’t think anybody was still using old-fashioned firearms. 

So she was alone, in the desert, with no gun, a half-empty canteen, and a bleeding abdominal wound. Maybe she wouldn’t have been a goner if her team had actually bothered to get her to a medic, but it sure seemed like she was a goner now. She pressed her hand over her stomach in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding and stared out across the red dirt and rocks. 

“What are you doing here?”

Allison startled and craned her neck around to see a tall figure a few feet behind her. No uniform, but the war had been going on long enough and both sides were broke enough that uniforms were fewer and farther between nowadays. Allison had one, sure, but her platoon was specialized enough to still warrant the expenditure. But not specialized enough to warrant a medivac, apparently.

“Did you lose your people?” The figure came around to her front and crouched down. He was a man, tall and broad-shouldered but still slim. His dark hair reached his shoulders, unusual for an imperial soldier, but not unheard of. He was probably special forces, like she was. Maybe her team had sent somebody out to retrieve her. 

“I’m injured, I was too much of a liability,” she croaked. 

“I see that. Let’s get you somewhere safe, yeah? What’s your name, soldier?”

“Lee.”

“First name?”

“Allison.”

“Alright Allison, my name is Eli. We’re gonna get you taken care of.” He stood up and called to someone, and Allison managed to struggle to her feet as two large people approached. 

“Wow, not often you find an injured imperial still alive these days,” one of them commented. Allison’s eyes snapped to Eli, who was watching her carefully.

“I know,” he said. “That’s why we’re taking her back to base, get her patched up and see what she can tell us.”

“You’re not imperial,” she whispered. She tried to turn and run, but lost her balance almost immediately.

“Easy there,” the third soldier cooed, catching her by the arm and holding her upright. “You wanna get her bandaged up before we try to move her?” she asked Eli, who was already digging through his pack.

“Yeah, maybe we can at least slow this bleeding down.” He approached her with gauze as she struggled to free herself. 

“Don’t touch me!” she cried out. 

“Simmons, help me out here,” the woman holding her arm said calmly. Simmons grabbed Allison’s other arm and they held her firmly in place as Eli untucked her uniform shirt and unbuttoned the bottom half. Allison kicked out as he knelt before her, but her abdomen hurt too much to put any force behind it.

“You really think she’s worth hauling all the way back to base?” Simmons asked. Eli smiled up at him as he wrapped gauze tightly around Allison’s waist. 

“I’m not worth it, I don’t know anything. I’m not going to tell you anything,” she blurted.

“That’s what the imperial army wants us to think,” Eli said. “But I’m quite sure you’re worth more to us than you are to them, Allison. Especially considering your own unit left you here to slowly bleed out.” 

“They made the right choice,” she spat. “I became a liability to the mission, I am honored to have been left behind.”

“Woof,” said the woman holding her right arm. “Propaganda machine’s still working like a charm, I guess.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about –” Allison was cut off by a bolt of pain as Eli secured the bandage around her. She hissed and sagged a little in the hold of her captors.

“Alright, back to the hummer, then back to base.” Eli led the way out of the little cluster of boulders they were in, and the two soldiers holding Allison turned to follow. She fought their hold as best she could, squirming and jerking and kicking, to little effect beyond bothering her captors.

“Sanchez, are you sure we need her alive?” Simmons asked through gritted teeth. Allison growled and kicked at his shin, but she couldn’t put much force behind it. It felt like some bad dreams she’d had, where she tried to defend herself from an attacker only to find she couldn’t throw a punch, couldn’t make her body move the way she was trying to move it. 

Eli turned and was on her in a second, holding her jaw with one hand and forcing her to look him in the eye. “If you keep struggling, you are going to bleed to death before we can get you to a real doctor.”

“Good.” Allison glared into his brown eyes. She wished she could spit, but her mouth was too dry.

He sighed and released her, and they continued walking. Allison struggled less as they went, as the initial adrenaline rush faded and the true ache of her injury set in. A couple miles into her forced march she was barely holding herself up. With every step she dragged her boots across the dusty ground, tripping frequently on small rocks. 

It took her a moment to notice they’d stopped. “Sanchez, she’s bled through the bandage,” the woman said. Allison looked down and observed a trickle of blood running down her hip into her waistband. 

“Lay her down,” Eli ordered. Allison locked her knees and fought the attempt to get her on the ground, but Eli bent and grabbed her ankles, pulling her feet out from under her and allowing the other two to lower her to the dirt. 

“Just leave me, let me bleed out, leave me here,” she protested, kicking out and trying to shove Eli away. Simmons grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. Eli himself straddled her legs and pinned her knees together, opening a new package of gauze as he appraised her injury. 

“Did you get shot by a fucking firearm?” he asked as he packed more gauze into it. She wiggled helplessly and didn’t respond. “I didn’t know anybody even had those anymore. Take a deep breath for me.” She refused, and after a second he shrugged and yanked the new bandage more tightly around her. Allison bit back a scream and dropped her head back into the dirt. 

Simmons let go of her hands, and Eli got up off her knees. She tried to stand, but couldn’t summon the strength. She attempted to roll onto her side, but her stomach hurt too much. 

“I’ll just carry her,” she heard Eli say to the others. 

“No, I’m getting up, leave me alone –” she protested weakly. Two strong hands rolled her gently onto her back and two arms came up under her knees and her shoulders. She pushed feebly against Eli, but it was too late. She fisted her hands in his shirt and cursed at him.

“We’re not leaving you, Allison.” She could feel the rumble of his voice through his ribcage. “You may have been taught that you’re disposable, but I know you’re not. You’re going to be very helpful to me.” 

“You good?” Simmons asked from behind them.

“Yeah,” Eli replied. “I can keep a closer eye on her bandage this way anyway.” 

Allison fought to stay vigilant, to figure out where they were taking her, but the exhaustion of the injury and the gentle rocking as Eli walked lulled her to sleep. 

[bitebackbaby]

Hi! I just wanted to tell you that I’m loving your BRAVO, FOXTROT series! even if yesterdays was one of the saddest fics I’ve read in a while. Part 6 was really funny though so I guess it evens out? Maybe??

aw, thank you, im so glad you’re enjoying!! and yeah, the death footage one was rough ^^’ ymmv and all that, but i also think it’s one of the saddest ones this month, so at least there’s some variety in the levels of sadness!

and im glad the team-up fic was so entertaining to you, it was really fun to write lmao. whump can be comedic sometimes!! as long as my favorite pathetic man (fox🥰) is getting pushed around then that works for me o7