#but hey! more whump knowledge

[honeycollectswhump]

remember: if you give your whumpee stitches, they need to be taken out after a week. because otherwise they run the risk of fusing with the wound. the longer you wait the worse it gets….

and when they get taken out eventually, it hurts so much worse. plus there’s a chance the stitches rip in the skin, so not all of them are taken out and can lead to infection.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Graphic depictions of illness; allusions to major medical procedure; accidental violence (m on f); allusions to child abuse

A/N: Finally. I make no excuses and a lot of apologies. Daryl is going through it right now but it's not just my normal whump. Reader gets to find herself again. I say that as vaguely as possible but you'll see at the end and in coming chapters.

A day and a half. A full fucking thirty six hours. The group still hadn’t returned. While it was logical to be concerned for their safety, you just couldn’t seem to look any further than the man on the bed no more than a foot in front of you. His fever raged and his breathing deteriorated, shallow rattles and painful fits of coughing. Still, those were less distressing than the moments he would wake, not remembering where or when he was. 

During one such episode, you had been a peer from school. An innocent girl who had followed him home one day to catch crawdads in the creek behind his house. His one friend that he had to hide in the crawlspace until he could get his father to beat on him instead of looking for you. He didn’t have any friends. You were special, he said. The bruises were worth it. 

Of all the ways to get Daryl to talk about what had happened to him, this wasn’t what you had expected. 

To make matters worse, he had become violent, waking in a rage that no one could understand. He was swinging punches and trying to leave the bed, Lori holding you away from him while Hershel of all people tried to subdue him alone. It was the grating of his own voice against his throat that had brought on the coughing, the force of which had eventually tired him out. 

You had appreciated the concern but had asked Lori not to come between you and Daryl again. Though she had retreated in a huff, Carol later assured you that she was only concerned for the safety of you and the baby. She wasn’t angry and she wasn’t judging Daryl for something over which he had no control. 

Things were quiet at the moment. You hummed and carded your fingers through the archer’s hair. He had been sleeping without interruption for a little over an hour, but his breaths were seeming even more labored. 

You were beyond exhausted. Two or three hours of sleep, barely eating between bouts of nausea, you were nearly to the point of being confined to that sickbed right alongside Daryl. 

“How’re the patients?” 

You didn’t lift your head, only your eyes. “Baby and I are fine. Daryl sounds worse than when you were here earlier.”

“Let’s take a look at you two and then I’ll examine Daryl.” 

There was no point in arguing. You didn’t have the energy. Sitting up straight in the chair, your back protested from the time spent bowed over the edge of the mattress, but you continued the journey to relax against the backrest. Your hand never released Daryl’s. 

Hershel motioned toward your sweater in a silent request for permission and received a mumbled knock yourself out in reply. Baby Dixon was still for the moment after hours of kicking and rolling and seemingly trying to fit a foot between your ribs. The veterinarian smiled gently upon removing the stethoscope and rolling down your sweater. You were grateful for the small gesture, likely would have left it up if he hadn’t taken the initiative. 

“Heartbeat’s strong. Seems to be doing just fine according to my limited knowledge. You really should get some rest yourself. Eat something, drink more.” His stethoscope was already nearing Daryl’s chest when you noticed it; the twitch of a hand before fingers curled into a fist. 

“Daryl, no!” You weren’t meaning to hurt the old man, inwardly wincing when you heard the thud of his body hit the floor. You were just quick enough to shove him out of the way, Daryl’s fist barely grazing your cheek instead. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s Y/N. You’re sick.” You kept your voice soft, right next to his ear, holding him firmly in a way he couldn’t escape in his weakened state. 

“Hershel! Y/N!” Carol and Lori burst into the room, Beth just behind them. You heard the girl begin to cry and tend to her father but the other two were quiet. 

“Where—dunno—can’t think—”

“I know, Daryl. It’s the fever.” He was coughing into your shoulder, his skin hot and dry where it touched yours. “You’re safe. I’m here. Thumper’s here.” The archer made a sound in his throat and by some miracle, you knew what it meant. Otherwise keeping your hold on him, you fumbled for his hand and pressed it firmly to the side of your belly. “Feel that? You woke them up too.” Your lip was wobbling, your voice threatening to do the same. “They just want their daddy to rest now so they can too. How ‘bout it, hmm?”

You pulled back slowly, steeling yourself for whatever it was you would see in his eyes. You almost whimpered when there was nothing short of exhausted recognition. 

“D’I hurt—” 

Your cheek burned and felt wet, but you shook your head. No, you wouldn’t tell him while he was like that. “I tripped. Face-planted. You definitely would have laughed.” He didn’t believe you, that much was obvious, but thank heavens for Thumper and a well placed punt straight to Daryl’s palm. His reaction was sluggish, head bowing to watch his hand rub circles over that spot. 

“Hey, kid. Go—easy on—your mama.”

“How about you go easy on their mama too and drink some water for me?” With your hand behind his head, you slowly guided him to his mountain of pillows. “Just a bit, okay?” He gave no answer. His palm continued to caress your bump. You wondered if he would still be so affectionate once he realized you weren’t alone in the room. 

With one hand raising his head slightly, the other tipped the cup to lips. He didn’t drink as much as you’d hoped but it was something. His eyes were closed but his fingers remained steady, curling and straightening over where you could feel the ripples of movement. It was as if they could sense one another. Daryl was calm, only the cough moving him at all. The baby’s movements were gentle waves below his hand. 

You didn’t dare move, allowing him the comfort he likely didn’t even know he was seeking. If you were being honest, you were relaxing a little as well. With a sigh, both tired and contented, you slouched but stayed next to him. 

“Is he okay?” You asked, finally rolling your head toward the others. Beth and Carol were getting Hershel to his feet, Lori pacing behind them with an expression you just didn’t like. 

“I’m perfectly fine.” The man answered for himself, patting Beth’s hand so that she would release him. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, risking placing your hand over Daryl’s. When his fingers went still, you gently guided his palm back and forth over your belly. 

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N. I should have been more—”

“He’s going to seriously hurt one of us.” Lori interjected, continuing her pacing. You shot her a warning look, eyes narrowing when she shook her head. “I understand this is out of his control, but this is Daryl and out of all of us, he’s hardwired for violence.”

“Lori, you should go.” You spoke quietly, not willing to disrupt any rest the archer might be getting. You could only pray that he hadn’t heard her careless comment. 

“We should just take shifts to come check in on him. You could rest and eat, we’d probably hear him cou—”

“Are you seriously suggesting I leave him alone up here?” Where the anger was coming from, you had no idea. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the concern for Daryl that was constantly eating at you. It hardly mattered, you’d made it clear that she was crossing a line. Your tone was dripping with venom. “Carol.” You beckoned, eyes remaining on Rick’s wife. “Please, take Lori downstairs before I say or do something I would definitely regret.”

“Come on, Lori.” You heard Carol say quietly, a heated glare continuing between you and the other woman as she was led from the room. Once the door closed, your anger dissolved as quickly as it had materialized. “Beth—Hershel, you know—”

“We know he’d never hurt any of us on purpose.” The girl said in that sweet southern tone of hers. “You neither.”

“Having two expectant mothers in one room with enough charged energy was just asking for an explosion of some sort. Now don’t you stress yourself over it any further.” As he neared, Hershel squeezed your shoulder. “Think you might be able to keep him from becoming agitated long enough for me to take a listen?” He lifted the stethoscope. 

You nodded with a sniffle, wiping away a tear. “Yeah. If you can go around, I have an idea.” The old man rounded the bed while you crawled up beside Daryl, gently pulling him onto his side and against your chest. Once situated, you pulled his hand back onto your belly, and though he didn’t move it, you felt him relax a little further into you. “Daryl.” You whispered into his hair. “Hershel’s gonna listen to your lungs. The stethoscope is gonna be cold but your skin is hot from the fever. I’m right here. And it’s just Hershel.” 

You carded your fingers through his hair while Beth leaned over you to clean the cut on your cheek, hands just as gentle as her father’s. There wasn’t so much as a flinch when the cold instrument pressed against the archer’s back. You paid attention to the his reactions—or lack thereof—but you also watched Hershel and the way his expression fell. It was then you knew he would tell you nothing good.

“His right lung is full of fluid. It’s hindering his ability to breathe normally. The cough is still productive?” You nodded slowly. “May I see?” Well, that was disgusting but Beth carefully pinched one edge of a cloth and carried it to Hershel. You didn’t care to have that ick on your fingers.

Your attention turned back to Daryl, his weight heavy on your side, chest rattling, cheeks flushed, and lips pale. When would the group be back? Were they okay? Should you plan to leave?

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You didn’t look up from stroking the archer’s cheek until your name was said again. The expression you were met with was grim. You had your concerns about the pink frothy liquid that accompanied the mucus. Fuck. You should have told Hershel immediately. “What is it?” 

“If I don’t do something about the fluid in his lung, it is possible he may—for lack of a better term—drown.” 

“When they get back—” He cut you off with a shake of his head.

“This can’t wait that long. We don’t know if—we’re not sure when they’ll return. I need to see if I have anything that I can use. What we were able to grab from the farm was extremely limited and even that has been cut in half with being on the road.” Hershel was mentally running through inventory as he began to leave the room with his daughter in tow, turning but not meeting your eyes. “I’ll need him awake for this.”

Start waking him up now. That’s what he meant. You were horrified. You had no idea how to thoroughly explain to Daryl what was going to happen, because you didn’t know. Why did he need to be awake? ‘Oh, you’re going to drown slowly if we don’t do this now.’ How badly would it hurt? 

“There’s a—time an’ place—to be pullin’ on—a man’s hair an’ this—ain’t it.”

You sputtered out apologies and let go immediately. “I didn’t even realize—I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t even looking at you, half lidded eyes blinking slowly and staring toward the wall. Your tight grip returned but this time on his bicep, pulling him more snugly into your side but easing when he buried his face against your sweater to cough. Gross, but what could you do?  “Daryl. Do you think you could try to—”

“Heard the—the old man. M’awake.” 

The two of you laid in silence, not necessarily uncomfortable but with the looming fear of what was to come and if could even possibly help him. Your fingers ran a trail up and down his arm while his hand splayed out over your belly, eventually sliding around to your side to shift you toward him. Face to face, you could now clearly see the exhaustion, the way the illness was slowly tearing him down, and the resignation in his eyes.

“I’m scared.” The words slipped from your tongue unbidden, and though his expression didn’t change, he brought a fiercely trembling hand to your cheek, hot against your skin.

“Me too.” The admission shocked you to your core. Daryl always strived to be strong for everyone. Hell, it was what led him to his current position in the first place, trudging on while ill just to make sure you and the group—mostly you—were fed. “Didn’t fall.” His thumb barely brushed the bruised cut on your cheek. “M’so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He opened his mouth, presumably to speak but quickly turned his face into the pillow to cough harshly, the force rocking his body hard enough to jar your own. You twisted to reach for a cloth, shushing him when his hold grew tighter, openly displaying his discontent at the thought of you moving away.

With gentle swipes, you wiped his face and then the pillow, folding the fabric before laying it above your heads for easy access. 

“I don’t wanna do this without you. Thumper needs their daddy. And,” you swallowed, face crumbling and tears stinging your waterline, “I need their daddy too.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Why the hell was he comforting you when he was the one being ravaged by an illness that would have been easily remedied in the old world? You really were weak, dependent. Where was the headstrong woman that had shown no fear on her own during the first days of the turn? “Stop—stop lookin’ at me—like m’already dead.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling away abruptly to cover a fit of barking coughs that left him groaning, face lined with pain while he gasped and heaved to catch his breath.

You had no chance to offer him any sort of comfort before there came a knock and Hershel entered, Carol at his heels. “We have what we need. Well, what can be used in place of what we need.” He held some sort of thin tubing, a syringe, and a plastic mixing bowl, while Carol carried a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, some gauze, tape, and a knife. Even with your wide eyes displaying a naked fear, Daryl never turned to look. “Is he awake?”

“Get it—get on with it.” He grumbled, weak but to the point.

Hershel merely shook his head with that fond smile he had developed toward your group since the farm. “Carol, could you sanitize the knife?” Seeing her pour a portion of the liquid over the blade made your stomach turn, or maybe it was your own illness rearing its ugly head to take advantage of your weakened state. Regardless, you looked away, finding Daryl’s eyes on your own. “First, I’ll need to find the right spot. You’ll have to be completely still for this, son.”

“Yeah, okay. Got—got it.” The archer wheezed. In your peripheral, you could see the veterinarian’s arm moving, pressing and counting the ribs in search of the correct site. Daryl was rigid, his eyes squinted but remaining open and focused on you with the occasional flitting down to where your swollen belly pressed against him. His hand fisted into the fabric of your sweater on your hip.

“Okay, I’m going to—”

“Just do—just do it for christ sake.” 

The old man was still behind him for a moment, long enough to draw your gaze to his. He nodded, a silent request for you to do what you could to keep Daryl still and compliant. Drawing your eyes back to the dull blue that was watching you with such intensity that you felt crushed under the weight, well, that must have been enough for Hershel to continue.

Daryl made a noise in the back of his throat, the slightest spasm of pain indicating that the knife had pierced his skin. Hershel and Carol were moving behind Daryl, communicating through whispers and gestures while you felt Daryl’s arm begin to shake, your sweater pulling tight against your body.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good, Daryl.” 

His eyes suddenly clamped shut, your sweater rising away from your hip when he twisted his fist. The seconds felt like minutes that felt like hours of watching him tremble with fever, weakness, and restraint. Finally, there came the blessed sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the plastic bowl. 

“Catheter is in place as best I can tell. We’re getting fluid. Don’t hold your breath, son. Nice and slow.”

You could tell he was trying, each breath a wheeze laced with pain. Slowly, you moved your hand from his arm to his face, just brushing your fingers over the stubble on his cheek. “We need to start thinking of names, you know. Thumper is cute but the baby isn’t a rabbit even though they feel like one sometimes.” Daryl’s eyes opened, tears pricking at the pinched corners. You knew he couldn’t answer you and so did he, probably couldn’t even if he tried. “I try to picture what they may look like. I hope they look like you, big blue eyes and maybe even a permanent scowl so that when they smile, it’ll be the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen.” You thumbed away a tear that escaped down across the bridge of his nose toward the other eye.

When his throat spasmed, you thought maybe he was going to be sick but then he began to cough, loud and agonizing and dry. Your wide eyes found Hershel’s, the calm in the old man’s gaze fizzling out your terror.

“It’s okay. Just keep him still. The coughing forces out more fluid. It’s almost over.”

As painful as it was for Daryl, it was agonizing for you to watch him suffer with no way to help him. “It’s almost done. You’re doing great. Stay still and stay awake. Can you look at me?” He answered with the smallest of nods, an almost imperceptible movement. Carol moved closer to Hershel. It was torture to not know what they were doing out of your sight but at the same time, an immense relief. The zip of tape being pulled and torn was surely a sign of the procedure coming to an end.

But it was when Daryl drew in the deepest breath you had heard in two days that you felt yourself relax, truly and utterly just drain of tension, placing your forehead against his. “It’s over. Just rest now.” You focused on his even breaths, just the slightest wheeze, the barely audible rattle. He was limp against you, his hand still tangled in your sweater but no longer holding on. The archer was exhausted and sleep had claimed him almost instantly.

“Hershel?” You need not ask anything. He knew.

“It won’t last long, but it buys us some time. The incision was deep but small. I will examine him in a little while, make sure it stays clean. In the meantime, listen for any struggles with breathing. Let him rest.”

You nodded, your forehead brushing against Daryl’s. The used supplies had been gathered and the old man had already made his way downstairs. You caught Carol’s eye as she started to close the door.

“An hour.” You stated flatly.

“What?” The other woman stepped back into the room, her brow drawn.

“I’m giving them one hour. If they’re not back, I want the list and I’m going. There won’t be a discussion.” No room for argument. “You sit with him while I’m gone. You’re the only other person he really trusts.” She looked as if she might object, but when her shoulders relaxed, you knew you’d won. With a nod, she left the room.

Without Daryl’s desperate attempts to breathe, it was so quiet, a sound you welcomed and reveled in so deeply. Hershel had opened a doorway and you’d be damned if you’d let it close. Moving your arm below his to wrap around him, low on his back to avoid the incision, you used the leverage to pull yourself as close to him as you could with baby Dixon barring the way. The archer didn’t stir. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you felt the fever still burning hot, only fueling your determination to get what he needed if the group failed to return.

“I don’t care what you say or what you think. I don’t care why you think I shouldn’t.” You spoke softly, a near whisper. “I love you. And I am not losing you.”

Of course you had fallen asleep. Daryl was resting comfortably, albeit still feverish. You were cozy beside him. You felt safe while simultaneously feeling like you were guarding him. It had been more than an hour, that much was certain. Hershel hadn’t given a timeframe regarding how long the treatment would help Daryl and you were taking no chances. It was time to take things into your own hands.

As fate would have it, just as you began to disentangle yourself from Daryl, there were frantic footsteps on the stairs. Fuck. Daryl was too weak to move if walkers had wandered into the area. The door burst open without a knock, revealing a breathless blonde teenager wearing a brilliant smile.

“They’re back!”

You stared. It was all you could do, your voice had seemingly decided it was in just as much shock as you were. Besides, she had already disappeared, leaving the door wide open. A sob worked its way up your throat but you blocked it with your teeth, looking down at Daryl as he slept. 

He would be okay.

The glare you had fixed on Hershel settled the maybe you should wait outside argument rather quickly. You weren’t leaving Daryl to be manhandled should he wake up confused. 

A herd had blocked their direct path back. Of course one had. Because the world was cruel and unforgiving and the dead were always hungry and always looking for a life to take. 

Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were bringing up supplies while Maggie assisted her father with Daryl’s care. An IV was started immediately, after carefully searching for the perfect vein due to his state of dehydration. They didn’t have the cannulas to waste. Fluids were started right along with a bag of something called Azithromycin—an antibiotic, Hershel had said. They had scored several bags of each, along with a few other things that could be used for injuries or illnesses. But when they brought up the oxygen tanks, you could have sobbed.

The nasal cannula placement was what finally woke Daryl, bloodshot eyes scanning the room before you saw the first signs of panic. “Ssh. It’s okay.” You slid your hand under his and squeezed his fingers softly. “They’re back. Just let Hershal do his thing, okay? And then I’ll chase them all out. I promise.”

You were so relieved to see his usual scowl shift into place, even if it was somewhat diminished. “Fine.” He rasped.

“Good. Now, since I have your attention—don’t touch that—” you swatted his hand away from the cannula, “take these pills.” Hershel wanted around the clock alternation of acetaminophen and ibuprofen every four hours to get the fever under control. 

With an utterance of something containing the word bossy he let you place the pills on his palm and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry while you sat there offering a glass of water. There was a look shared between you that would have been amusing had either you had the energy to laugh. “Thanks.” He whispered, his hand shaking when he accepted the water. He only took a couple of sips but you wouldn’t hound him just yet. The fluids were going and he likely would take a while to feel like doing much of anything.

“We’ve done everything we can do for now. Just need to keep an eye on those bags and hang new ones when they’re empty. Keep giving the fever reducers and, son, try to drink when you feel like. The sooner you’re taking in fluids on your own, the better.” 

“Leave that oxygen right where it is too.” Maggie added in a no-nonsense tone.

Daryl’s nod was sluggish, his chin almost staying on his chest during the gesture. The commotion, everyone moving, even while he did nothing more than take a couple of pills, had left him running on fumes. As promised, you were up, hand on your lower back to rub away the ache there as you used the other to shoo everyone out of the room.

Absolutely nothing was stopping you from crawling under those sheets with him and sleeping for four glorious hours. You had asked Carol to keep an eye on that. Thank heavens he was lying in the middle of the bed. The side with the IV needed to be avoided. 

Actually lying down with the intention to sleep, knowing Daryl was receiving the help he needed, you were just done for, already drifting off and somewhere between awake and asleep when you felt Daryl’s knuckles brush against yours. You took his hand without a second thought.

“Are you sure about this?” Carol asked, standing with you in the doorway of the bedroom. She was nervously glancing back and forth between you and Daryl. Aside from a few bouts of those harsh, barking coughs, he had slept the entire four hours and barely woke enough to choke down the pills before being pulled right back under. 

“I’m sure.” You secured your knife in the sheath on your thigh and wiggled Daryl’s gun holster a little to the side so it wasn’t gouging into the bottom of your belly. Your rifle was long gone and you weren’t about to alert anyone else to your plans by choosing a different weapon. So with both your bag and Daryl’s crossbow on your back, you were ready to head out.

“You don’t have anything to prove, Y/N. We’ve lived off less. There’s a little jerky left and we have some cans—”

“I’ll be fine, Carol. I’m only going to be a few hours and hunt small game. If I happen across a doe that I can lift, I’ll take that chance, otherwise, it’ll be squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, or opossums. Yum.”

“What do I tell him if he wakes up and asks for you?” She shifted nervously.

“The truth. We don’t lie. If he tries to come after me, knock him out or barricade the door.” 

She followed you to the top of the stairs but not down, staying close to Daryl as she had promised. “You really don’t need to go.”

“I do. I’m the only other hunter in this group. I won’t have him trying to go out sooner than he’s ready to make sure there’s enough.” You paused on the bottom step, staring at the door and then toward the kitchen where everyone else was gathered. Chewing your bottom lip, you climbed up two more so she could hear you without alerting the rest. “If I’m not back before his next dose, I’m headed west. That’s where they can look.” 

Carol looked so stricken and unsure so you offered her a smile, as she always did for you. Finally, she conceded. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Whump vs Flufftober: Day 13

familial curse / Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

After the initial upset, it turned out not to be so bad living here, Yuu thought.

Living in a creaky old mansion had its downsides- shopping was annoying, though Yuu was able to outsource it. Cleaning, they could also outsource, although they felt bad when they weren’t pulling their own weight.

The staff for a house of this size was extraordinarily small, but it was balanced out by the fact that only the shadowy, unseen master lived here as a resident. So that still left Yuu, as the manager of this house, to figure how to make repairs and fix things.

Building up their initial reservoir of knowledge had been difficult, but Yuu felt stronger and more self-reliant now that they were able to cut, sandpaper, paint and varnish their own doors, or figure out a whole meal from little else than the catch of the day and an orange.

It was the thought of meals that took up a lot of Yuu’s mind nowadays.

Ever since that fateful day, when the master of the house, Tsunotaro, had sent up word from Lilia that he’d found the rosemary and chives made the roast pheasant dish they’d had served delectable, Yuu had sough to capture that joy that had crept into Lilia’s voice when he’s relayed the message.

Most of the servants had a grim sort of pallor to them, or at least they he when Yuu had begun to work there. Nowadays, they didn’t all look so bad, but Yuu was still under the impression that expressions of happiness in association with the master were something of a small treasure.

Yuu hadn’t had to guess for long, though, because that very master had visited that night.

Shaking off those thoughts, Yuu reviewed the meal they had planned for tonight. Hearty, warm and plentiful, their creamy-chunky potato soup, to be served with crunchy and savory bits of toasted bread, as well as a few sprigs of fresh vegetables Yuu had plucked from the budding garden they’d been working on, and had made the best they could.

The presence of the master permeated through all of the walls of the formerly drafty house.

When they'd first gotten here, Yuu had thought there was nothing but his presence in this desolate house, stirring the dust with a lazy finger, and tickling the noses of the sparse staff.

But, as Yuu had boarded up holes, swept up the mess, arranged furniture, and hung curtains, the true spirit of the house had come to life, as if it had been dormant prior to their arrival.

The winds blew harsher now, the first time winter had returned since they'd come here, but the house no longer rattled with every gust. Instead, it stood firm, protecting the fires that slept within, and allowing its inhabitants to stay warmth.

Yuu could walk around and feel the strong heart of the house beating under the floorboards with them. It felt like a crazy thought, but Yuu was sure it was true.

As the potatoes simmered, one of the other servants opened the kitchen door.

"Hey, Yuu?" Ace, a hire Yuu had made to help around the house whom they'd grown surprisingly close to, was sticking his neck into the kitchen.

"What's up?" they said, sprinkling in a bit of salt for flavor. The potato soup was good, but Yuu was going for fantastic.

"Do you know where we'd have a flathead screwdriver?" he asked.

That was, in fact, something Malleus knew well. "There should be one in the toolbox in the cleaning closet. but check with Silver first, because he has a habit of taking it and putting it down in the sitting room."

"Thanks!" Ace slapped the doorframe and ran off, and Yuu turned their attention back to the soup.

They got an idea, and tried to banish it as soon as it came.

Biting their lip, Yuu grabbed flour, yeast, and a mixing bowl, and quickly stirred together dough for biscuits.

With one eye on the burbling pot of potatoey goodness, Yuu quickly got a batch of biscuits in the oven as the kitchen filled with the delightful scent of cozy, autumnal food.

Lowering the heat on the pot, Yuu kept stirring until the biscuits were almost done. Then, they quickly ladled out the appropriate number of portions, at least one on a silver tray that would be delivered to Tsunotaro.

The rest of them had been given permission to eat in the main dining hall. so long as there was no one else to be hosted that night. The ranks of the servants had grown quite a bit, and they all liked to eat with each other nowadays.

As a warm, buttery, and faintly burning smell overtook the kitchen, Yuu scrambled to get the stove to turn off and serve each bowl of soup with a nice, warm biscuit.

Yuu wiped the sweat off their brow, the heat of the kitchen getting to them, and dashed off to serve the food.

That night, Yuu was finishing up a few scribbles in their notebook, cross-legged as they sat in the fading candlelight of their desk.

Yuu yawned, wiping the tears of exhaustion from their eyes. They were ready to go to bed, when the shadow at their door appeared.

They could hardly contain the gasp that threatened to spill out of their lips, but the surprise was impossible to hide.

It was him. Though rarely seen and hardly visible, Yuu didn't need to see the horns curling off the top of his head to know it was him, in their hearts.

They stood there, staring at each other for a few moments.

"Hello," he said, in a low tone. "I... I wanted to tell you that the soup was delicious."

Yuu didn't say anything at first. "Thank you," they finally replied.

They stood there, staring at each other as their shadows crawled up the walls of their room.

"You know," they said, rising from their chair. "You haven't come by."

"I know," he replied. "I have been somewhat busy."

"You haven't done anything else, either," they said in a contemplative tone, approaching him more.

He usually stuck to door frames and corners, the darkest shadows of any room. Yuu had taken this to mean that Tsunotaro didn't like it when they got too close.

Right now, however, he wasn't backing up.

"I-"

"Do you not like me?" they asked, in the slightest bit of a mocking tone.

"It's not that," he insisted.

"Then... what is it? You haven't made a move in all these months," they pouted.

Tsunotaro scoffed lightly. Yuu was only inches from where they thought his chest was.

They tried to stare at his eyes, meet his piercing gaze, but Tsunotaro's eyes flicked away quickly.

The last of the candlewick gave out, and Yuu felt someone grabbing their arms, bring them in for a kiss, and shove them back into their room.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee *BONUS Scene* part 3

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, aftermath of being a weapon/semi-retired weapon, lost family, fractured memories

Torn apart and stitched back together so many times he forgot his original identity -- a weapon made of muscle and scar tissue held together by bitter rage.

Monster, a part of him whispered, just like everyone told you.

He wanted to deny it so badly, but was any part of him really himself? Or just a false identity drilled into him after years of training and conditioning to obey?

Who am I? His mind screamed. He thought finding his file would bring him closure, but it only gave him more questions, more holes of knowledge to be filled.

WHO AM I REALLY?

Was he more man, or more beast? Which had more control over him? He knew he could be violent like the beast, but also soft and gentle like a kind man.

But no matter how kind he was, violence would always lurk beneath the surface, sizzling in his veins, violence that LEADER trained into him. Violence that LEADER put there.

Whumpee didn't even realize he was gripping the papers so hard until the slight ripping sound brought him back to the present.

"Hey... are you alright, man?" Max asked quietly. "This must be a lot to take in..."

He had no idea. No idea at all.

Max looked like he was about to say more, when Jake suddenly appeared in the doorway, a little pale in the face with shock, if Whumpee was reading it right. He jerked his chin at Max.

"A word in private?" He said, a bit hoarse-sounding.

Whumpee was instantly suspicious as Max walked past him after giving him a worried glance, joining Jake in the hall.

But Whumpee followed all the way to the doorway to eavesdrop, and even though the two soldiers lowered their voices to a near-whisper, he still heard the conversation loud and clear.

"You know that blonde girl Whumpee talks about all the time in his sleep?" Jake asked gruffly.

Max nodded. "Yeah? What about it--?"

"--One of the prisoners my team just confiscated, uh... er..." Jake stumbled over his words, something he almost never did.

And Whumpee's blood went ice-cold at what he said next.

"One of the prisoners fits the description. I know it's highly unlikely, but is there any chance it might be--?"

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

@theforeverdyingperson @dragongodryss

[allastoredeer]

Hey! I just want to say, you are my gateway into Radioapple and Hazbin fics as a whole, and boy did you set an expectation for me!! I'm always afraid of coming across OOC fics, and I'm especially picky with what I choose to read at first when I'm still so new to fandom portrayals of characters. When I read the summary and tags of Just Kiss Already, I couldn't believe my eyes because it had everything I was looking for?!? Post season 1, Alastor whump (I squealed at the concept of the angelic wound), Luci having to face the public and his lack of knowledge regarding politics, jealous Vox, Overlord meetings, and! Fake/pretend relationship!! With the sprinkle of rumors and speculation from the public (Idk what it is with me and loving this trope). You delivered a full course meal! The characterization was so so amazing, I love the banter, and I just adore the concept of Alastor being vulnerable in front of someone stronger than him (that someone being Lucifer, who despite being the king of hell, doesn't use his powers to take advantage of Alastor's vulnerable state is ahhhhhh so good). The pacing is incredible, the interactions are golden, and I applaud you for writing POVs that feel real and authentic to canon!

One major thing that made me extremely picky about choosing and reading fics in the fandom was my fear of authors not being able to handle Alastor's Asexuality well. Thank you for doing Alastor justice, I'm so amazed at how well you wrote him in this regard. Like when Vox yelled at him "What does Lucifer have that I don't?", it didn't even cross Alastor's mind that this is a confession of sorts, and instead he thought Vox was talking about power. I love the subtleness of this so much!! The last chapter you posted was amazing in this regard, with Alastor's thoughts about relationships in general. Just, thank you for sharing your work with us, I enjoyed all of it, and I'm so excited to see where the story goes <3333

Another thing I'm still skeptical about is reading explicit fics, because... well, I'm not sure if they will handle Alastor's Ace identity well. Do you happen to have a recommendation for someone like me who's never read Radioapple smut before? And I would also love to know your overall favorite Radioapple fics as well, I've bookmarked some stuff and I don't know where to begin haha. Again thank you, and your blog and asks are so interesting to read!!

HI! HELLO! So this has been sitting in my inbox for a while and its not because I was ignoring it, its because I have come back to read it over and over and over again as I've been writing the next chapter to "Chaggie's Dating 101," and I didn't want to lose it in the void of my blog.

Thank you for this 🥺 not only is it cool being your introduction to Radiapple/HH fics, but I'm so glad you've been enjoying it too!! Hahaha I'm definitely having a lot of fun with "Just Kiss Already" and all the shenangians that are already happening, and knowing that other people are having just as much fun makes me just dlkfnvsdkgjslkgj 😭❤️

I totally get it about being picky. I'm a very picky reader too 😅 Alastor's aceness is definitely something that I can get picky about. Like, it doesn't have to be the focal point every time I read a smut fic--or any fic in general--but when it feels like its either brushed aside altogether or there's underlying aphobia (unintentionally, I'm sure), I nope out real quick. I base a lot of my own ace experiences, thoughts, and emotions on how I write Alastor, and it is so, so validating to see so many other people feeling the same way.

I'll admit, I can be a little more slack with smut fics so long as the smut itself is fantastic, but yeah, there are certain pairings or dynamics I don't stray into because I hate how Alastor is typically depicted, especially in smut fics.

I've slowly been going through all my Hazbin 'marked for later' fics, but here's some radioapple smut fics I have bookmarked (Warning: I enjoy dark and very explicit fics so be sure to read the tags when you look through these):

Bayou in the Mountain by lelepandewritium

With a Coffee and a Caress by winterveritas (<- my current fav radioapple smut fic)

Together In My Pocket by keelywolfe

Unhealthy Attachments by keelywolfe

And, of course, I always recommend checking out keelywolfe's Lucifer's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship radioapple series! I haven't had time to finish it, but I think I'm up to fic 9 or 10 and I'm been loving it so much! It's so much fun! And I love the radioapple smut :3

I'm...just now realizing this is all the Radioapple smut I have in my bookmarks.

Wow.

I've been reading a LOT of smut recently, but looking back, I think it's all been RadioStatic 😂 if ya'll want any RadioStatic smut fic recs, let me know, I have a lot of those.

BUT ALSO! If anyone's read to this point! Here's an update on the chapter 3 of "Chaggie's Totally Legitimate Dating 101 Crash Course" :

The chapter is officially written and is being looked over by my beta's! I'm hoping to have it posted by Saturday or Sunday, so be on the look out for an update 😉 because it's happening very soon!

[phading]

Hi, it's me!

Okay, so there’s probably a lot you don’t know about me. So just in case you’re in the least bit interested:

I try very, very hard never to read incomplete fics. Purely selfish, and the result of reading far too many heart-grabbing stories that never got finished. If you need kudos or encouragement or anything else to continue, I’m here and over the moon excited to read anything you’d like to throw at me. Just let me know what you want in return - comments, critique, suggestions, hugs, encouragement, emojis, whatever ...

I posted one fic a chapter at a time, and I doubt I’ll ever do it again.

Characterization is everything.

If you’ve noticed an absence of Brains, Grandma, Lady P, Havoc, etc… in my fics it’s because I don’t give a twit. Perhaps one day I will evolve beyond this simplistic state.

I suck at prompts, challenges and deadlines. My muse is never in the right headspace at the right time.

I have a ridiculous need to keep it believable when really, the stuff that goes on in the show – no matter how much I adore it – is often somewhat miraculous.

It’s the future, people, I’m allowed to invent things.

In real life, I write kids’ books.

To the best of my knowledge, I’m the oldest member of the Thunderfam. Challenge me if you think you can claim the title.

The first thing of importance I ever wrote was a full length Star Trek Next Gen novel which I submitted to a few select New York publishers (oh, the innocence of youth) . Surprise, surprise, many of them actually read it and sent back comments written on famous restaurant napkins.

So, in light of all of the above, I’m once again doing my own thing. Inspired by the recent “10 opening lines from 10 recent fics” post I’m changing it up to “10 opening lines from 10 WIPs”.  I mean, seriously, I’m a newbie here and have far more WIPs than I do finished fics. So here’s what’s – pray to the anti-depression, anti-chronic pain gods  – coming up …

A WHOLE LOT OF SUPERFICIAL The uniform discarded in a heap on the floor outside the showers was expected – the purple neoprene wasn’t. (Virgil, Scott, shaping up to be humour)

THE LAST ZOO ON EARTH “Say again, John. I thought you said we have a situation at a zoo.” (All brothers, major rescue, major whump, pissed off Gordon)

THERE ARE NO CANNIBALS ANYMORE “Sir! I need you to calm down!” (Hurt Virgil, this one could go graphic in a hurry)

IT DOESN’T HURT Virgil glanced up from the piano keys, searching for inspiration but instead witnessing his fish brother's spectacular dive off the board – a dive that would leave his re-built back in shambles. (Fishtank, chronic pain)

TIGHT ROPE “I’m sorry, John, but if she’s dumb enough to try and pull off this ridiculous stunt, I see no reason why we should save her from her own stupidity.” (rescue gone sideways)

STARSTUCK Alan Tracy had been looking forward to this moment for a very long time. (Hurt Virgil, guilty Alan, Thunderbird 3 whump)

STELLAR “Hey, John, what’s this?” “It’s personal, that’s what it is!” (Guilty John, comatose Gordon, poetry, John has a secret)

CASPIAN John Tracy blinked open his eyes, breath catching when he discovered the most beautiful thing in his universe mere centimetres from his face. (John, OC-John’s lover, angst, Marks and Wings, John is not only a telepathic Ave but he’s bi!)

PSYCHOTIC MEDIUMS The probe entered Earth’s solar system broadcasting a symphony of alien sound that instantaneously drove the half-a-million or so humans who were listening insane. (Virgil centric, angst, sci-fi)

THE JOHN-CODE “Hey, Eos, you wanna help me test this new game?” (Alan, John, Eos, virtual games gone wrong.)

[savebatsartedition]

Whumptober 2024 Day 11:

Summary:

America, Canada, and Ohio are at the Twins Days Festival but it’s too hot out. 😦 Prompt piece used: SEEING DOUBLE

Notes:

...Literally why do I keep forgetting to post every other day. If this sounds like a total crack fic y’all just don’t understand tbh. Twin whump is a crazy genre that I need to make big because dude this stuff hits so different you don’t understand if you aren’t a multiple. (I am a twin.) …though for the record this isn’t heavy at all. It’s just sort of testing the waters of it? Content Warnings: Heatstroke but not fully, mentioned past twin death, referenced climate change Words: 1,165

(Fic also under the cut)

You know. Canada wasn’t exactly the type of guy for warm weather, and, yeah, okay, he wasn't exactly the type for crowds or trips or family vacations either, but he was here anyway. Here, in the wonderful town of Twinsburg, Ohio, and on pretty much the hottest weekend of the year, entirely without access to an air conditioner. To be frank, he was feeling rather miserable.

When America had pleaded with him to join the festivities, reminding him that this festival couldn't possibly last forever, Canada had reluctantly agreed. After all, it might even be a little bit fun. It wasn't exactly often that an immortal like himself got to celebrate this part of himself, and even less often that he got to do it with the person which he was actually celebrating. (Because that's what twin and multiple celebrations were, celebrations of the other multiple(s).) On top of that, America's friend, Ohio himself had once had a twin himself, before he was immortal, and just the thought of a loss like that had made Canada feel bad enough to agree to the trip.

He was really regretting it now.

Of course, Canada was by no means the only one upset, as the record highs were bad enough with or without the knowledge of how it once was, but that didn't make things better. He couldn't even sink into the background as he usually did, as America had forced them all to dress up for the theme of the year (which Canada, dizzy from the heat of the sun and the inside of his costume, did not truly remember), and the costume made him stick out like a sore thumb.

Worse (it really only got worse and worse), the festival was only just beginning. Together the three of them, Canada, America, and Ohio (who was dressed up along with the other immortal twins so he didn't feel quite so bad), stood in the parade, marching painfully through the sun filled streets as they did their best to smile. The roads were lined with many people, both tourists and locals, multiples and not, and they made Canada's head spin even more than it would have been without them.

And, as already stated, there were plenty of reasons for his head to be spinning.

Honestly, he was kind of starting to see double, and he was almost sure it had nothing to do with the wide array of multiples (identical or at least dressed that way) which surrounded him, pushing the three forward but holding them back all the same.

Canada pushed his glasses a little higher on his nose, finding that they had slipped down slightly on a stream of sweat. He fought for breath, though he had not walked further than half a mile.

“Hey dude,” America was saying, though he also seemed to be panting slightly, “Are you okay?”

Canada looked at him, and though he tried to make his face into an expression of “what do you think, honestly,“ he was pretty sure it didn't make it past the “I am very dizzy and scared” stage. He tried to speak, but found he couldn't, not really. The world was too much.

“It's a little hot out, sorry,” Ohio mumbled from Canada's other side, his black hair probably as hot as the asphalt even as he did his best to shield it from the sun's rays with a raised arm. It was clear he was apologizing personally, but Canada (who had gotten quite familiar with the changing climate in the previous decades), couldn't find it in himself to blame the man.

”Of course it is!“ America joked, trying to keep the mood light despite the fact that he was sweating just as hard as the other two, ”I'm here right? A hero has to inspire something like that, right?“

Canada stared at him, but his vision was swirling too much to make a disappointed face. Instead, he found himself leaning limply on his much more muscular twin. (Yeah, they weren't exactly identical, but the double vision continued as Canada rested.)

”You can step out of the parade,“ Ohio was saying, only panting a little bit as the tiny amount of breeze that had existed a moment before was blocked by a tall trio of girls dressed as Red Wood Trees, ”Nobody would hold it against you, it's really hot,” he paused to take in a brief step in the shade of the sparse trees, “Most of them know me anyway, even if they did want to blame you, for some reason,”

He paused his attention to wave at someone calling his human name, and then again to nod at a much more official looking figure. Perhaps someone in the town's management that was not on the float of judges? Canada's mind was too blurry to focus on if that was true or not.

“Dude, you do want to step out of the parade?” America was saying, and it wasn't clear whether he was taunting Ohio, asking Canada a genuine question, or begging for his own sake.

(Though, knowing him, Canada knew it could easily be any of those options, all three at once, or some other strange combination.)

“Maybe,” he managed, trying to un-lean from his brother's shoulder, but quickly realizing that it was a bad idea as the world spun faster when he did, “Maybe we should,”

“The library’s open, but it's far away,” Ohio said, pointing, “Or we could just go sit under that tree, it looks free,”

“Are any air conditioned buildings near us?” America panted, finally giving into the stress of their situation as Canada leaned on him, “I think we need it, dude,”

“Uh, maybe if someone lets us into their house,” Ohio offered, visibility sweating despite how much Canada’s vision was swimming in the heat, “But everyone’s watching the parade or working it, so I don’t think they could even if they would,”

“I notice you don’t mention walking in it,” Canada managed between pants for breath.

“Too busy standing still in the burning sun,” America answered him, sarcastically.

And it was true. The parade had ground to a halt, again.

“America,” Canada grumbled, feeling slightly better when Ohio stood on his tiptoes to extend a thin arm over his head, if not for the pathetic attempt at shade for the gesture, “I am never listening to what you say will be fun, ever again,”

America made a shocked sort of gasp, but the joke was half hearted. Clearly, he too was somewhat regretting what he had done. At their side, Ohio hummed something that was only half agreeing.

This was awful. It was too hot out, people were staring at them (for once not because they were immortals, but still), and the music was too loud. He never, ever, wanted to do this again. 

…and you know the worst part? Canada was already certain that he was going to do it all over again next year.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

heyyy i asked about that dark bam doc part 2 and I LOVED IT SO MUCH!!!! HLY CRp you are so talented!! want to share my appreciation and if you ever want to do a part 3 i would be such a huge fan, like reader slowly entering a relationship with bam while he brings up what dress she should where to while wedding!! and just her going through this new relationship while and bam is so so happy like a kid in a candy shop. reader is working through bam and his controlling and jealousy!! anyways i loved it so much and you are so damn talented, thank you so much and i love this dark stuff it works so well for bam!!

Can’t Stand Losing You (Pt. 3)

As Y/N and Bam’s relationship grows closer, Bam makes a mistake that he’ll do anything to fix.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, Angst, Whump)

2.7k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, toxic relationships, Hurt/comfort, drinking, jealousy, manipulation, stalkerish behavior, makeouts, misogyny if you squint

An: Thank you sosoosos much!! I had no idea that this series would do so well! :) I am so happy that you enjoy it so much and I had a ton of fun writing it!! I especially found it interesting to delve into Bam’s motives and why he does all of these things and how he never has one straight reason for why he does anything :D I’m probably thinking too deeply about this but anyways I would love to continue this series in any capacity if I ever get any ideas so thank you and please keep the requests coming! (Links to part 1 and part 2!)

You were on your way out the door, fixing your lipstick with a swipe of your thumb, when your eyes fell on a glossy issue of David’s Bridal haphazardly tossed onto your kitchen table. For the past few weeks they had been arriving at your doorstep and, to your knowledge, you had never subscribed to them. It wasn’t like you were getting a neighbor’s mail- they had your name on them- but you chalked it up as a coincidence and shook it from your mind as you headed off to dinner.

Since you and Bam had officially gotten together, he had been spending a lot more time in LA, taking you on fast car rides and extravagant dates like the one you were heading off to. You were drowning in all the attention, from the media and your new boyfriend alike, but as an up and coming model, you couldn’t really complain about all the work you were getting. And Bam- he was turning out to be just so considerate and thoughtful and fun, which you didn’t expect from a guy who throws himself into shrubs for a living. Still caught up in your thoughts, you put the car into park, walking into the fancy candle-lit restaurant he told you to meet him at that evening, not to be confused with the other five fancy candle-lit restaurants you had been to in the past month. Everyone in there looked like they had a reason for being in there, all dressed up in their suits and black dresses. You felt kind of out of place as you looked around, letting out a sigh of relief as your eyes caught Bam’s on the other side of the lobby. Squeezing past a few crowds of people, you stood by his side like a house pet waiting for attention. “Oh, hey.” He glanced up at you from his flip phone. You leaned in, giving him a peck on the cheek. Moving to stand beside him, you fiddled with your new shiny nails, courtesy of Bam, glancing at the way the light glinted off of the dark purple acrylic, “Did they call our table yet?” He shook his head nonchalantly, “Nah, but we’ll be up soon.”

“Table for uh..Mr and Ms. Margera?” The pretty blonde materie-di smiled at the two of you as you approached the oak stand, glancing down at her list. It was a slight mixup, they probably get tons of married couples in here, but you thought to say something anyways, “We’re not-“ Bam got there first, his hand around your waist pulling you a little closer to him, “Oh, it’s fine- that’s us.”

☆彡

Bam laughed when you mentioned the David’s Bridal thing like he had no idea what was going on, “Wow. That’s just…crazy!” The table was one of those small, uncomfortable round ones and the two of you were seated so close to each other that your knees bumped and you could see the thin blue ring of his iris by candlelight as it caught a glint. A waistcoat clad waiter walked by with an expensive looking dark bottle held proudly in hand, placing two stemmed glasses on the white table cloth, “Can I offer the newlyweds a drink?” Usually you would never turn down free drinks, but the waiter was already pouring the bubbly liquid as you turned to Bam with confusion, speaking hushed so only he would hear you, “We’re not- why would they think…?” His expression mirrored yours as he looked back at you, his leg brushing against yours as he turned toward you, “Did you say something, like- we were married?”

After the waiter left you inched your leg back and brought the glass to your lips, the bubbly liquid sliding down your dry throat down to the pit in your stomach, “No- no! God…I think I’m going crazy.” Plastering a fake smile on your face, you played it off as a joke, but you were being more honest than you would like to admit. “Well, whatever.” Bam chuckled and shrugged it off, returning to comfortable small talk, “What about you? What’s ‘goin on with you lately?” It’s not like he didn’t know- when he wasn’t in LA, you were on the phone till the early hours of the morning most nights. Your manager mentioned something to you about the dark circles under your eyes, but it’s not like you could tell Bam no. “Well,” You started excitedly, “I recently landed this new movie role!”

Bam cracked a grin, somewhere between being excited and disbelieving, “Really?” Reaching for a roll from the basket of bread on the table, you said as offhandedly as you could without cracking up, “It’s based on one of those bondage erotica books- you know? Leather, chains…” God, if you had a camera. The look on Bam’s face was priceless, nearly spitting out his drink as he stared at you, wide eyed. Not able to resist any more, you broke into a snicker, “I’m kidding!” He breathed a sigh of relief, the warmth of his face radiating onto yours as emotion still bubbled inside of him. “Well, I’m working on a movie myself.” Clearing his throat, he countered, “It’s called Haggard, and I actually landed a pretty major role!” Well, he also directed and produced it, but it’s not like you needed to know that. Plus, you looked so cute when your eyes lit up at the news, and Bam just loved seeing you smile in that lipstick he bought you, “Oh wow! What’s it about?”

Grinning at your excitement, he continued, ”Well, it’s a real story about a buddy’a mine’s troubles in love.” You nodded and smiled along and god, did that do things to Bam’s ego. While he spent the rest of the dinner telling you all about how well production was going and how he even got that band the two of you saw together to fly out all the way from Finland to get some footage with them, his mind was elsewhere

☆彡

“Whady’a mean, you don't know?” Bam grumbled into his phone, kicking his feet up on the rickety hotel room coffee table that rocked under his Adio sneakers that hadn’t even bothered to take off, “You’re the one who’s sposed’t be in on this shit!” On the other end of the line, Johnny groaned, the grating sounds of a party in the background, “Listen, just cause I’ve ‘gone all Hollywood’ doesn't mean I know everybody!” Yeah, good excuse, Knoxville. The yellowing lamp that hung from the ceiling flickered as Bam thrummed his black painted fingernails against the arm of the chair he slumped in, his brow furrowing. Johnny muttered something about how he really had to go before hanging up.

Some help he was. Bam’s fingers danced across his computer keyboard, a cigarette hanging from his teeth as the blue light glowed on his face. What he was doing was for a good cause, really. He wasn’t weird for looking up all the producers he could find to see if you had a male co-star- he just didn’t want some red-carpet-bait, fake-tanned, bleach-toothed hunk of show biz man meat getting between him and his girl.

★彡

Two weeks into production and the director said they ‘wanted to take things in another direction’, which is just Hollywood speak for ‘fuck off’. They didn’t even have the dignity to tell you when you came in on Monday- nooo, they had to tell you over the phone while you were eating your breakfast. You couldn’t even bring yourself to finish your bowl of Wheaties after you got the news. Sniffling, you punched in Bam’s number to your flip phone. He answered almost immediately.

“I-I..they fired me!” Was all you could get out before launching into mostly unintelligible bubbling. “They- They what?” The sudden dryness of Bam’s mouth was almost audible. Honestly, he never meant to get you fired, he just wanted to be a good boyfriend and watch out for you. Guilt was a twenty pound weight in his stomach. Hell, put a gun to his head and he’d never tell you about the restless night he spent in that hotel room, making phone calls all over Hollywood with nothing but a bottle of Jack for company.

So yeah, he felt bad. Bad enough to promise to take the first flight out to LA and be there as long as you needed. The guilt gnawed a hole in his stomach the whole flight there, and Bam felt even worse when he got there and you opened the door, looking up at him with those puffy, red eyes through your pretty eyelashes. He really was a heartless asshole. Wrapping his arms around you, Bam pulled you into his chest, not even bothering to close the door as he rubbed the back of your head with an imperceptibly trembling hand, whispering soft reassurances to you. Walking in, you didn’t even notice when Bam grabbed that magazine off of your kitchen table.

☆彡

For that weekend, you were basically superglued to his side, which really sounded like some stunt he would probably do once you thought about it. You shared every waking moment, from him gently rubbing little circles onto your back while you were drifting off to sleep, to warm steamy showers and the feeling of Bam’s fingernails on your scalp as he scrubbed in your strawberry scented shampoo, or having all your meals prepared for you by your loving boyfriend like he was your personal chef. You felt like a princess, and he was your Prince Charming, soothing every trace of worry or sadness away.

But it’s not like his pampering was completely unselfish. Sure, that pang of shame was a great motivator, but so was want, and this situation, everything considered, was really quite in his favor. Bam just loved having this helpless little thing following him around that depended on and needed him for everything. So maybe he turned the thermostat down a few degrees so you’d snuggle a little closer to him in bed, or maybe he took his sweet time in the shower with you because he liked feeling your wet, naked body against his. It didn’t make him a bad person, it made him a good boyfriend.

He still felt like a good boyfriend when he had you lying against his chest, nestled in your soft pink bed sheets as he flipped through that David’s Bridal catalog. Bam pointed to a woman on the shiny page wearing a strapless little satin number with a long veil, “You’d look amazing in this one.” If you were of sound mind you’d make some sort of sarcastic joke at his comment, but you weren’t. “Really?” You looked up at him with big, tear-wet doe eyes and he grinned, “Of course! Only the best for my girl. I bet we’d be the next Nick and Jessica.” You nodded. That thought, images of fluffy white cake and church bells permitted your mind for a while after.

Bam was thinking about what color the roses would be- purple, obviously, the same purple-pink from that one Razorblade Romance vinyl colorway he paid too much for. He has enough connections so he could get basically anyone you wanted to play at the reception. God, he was fucked. He was supposed to be taking care of you, his emotional wreck of a girlfriend, and all he could think of was the feeling of a lace garter belt in his teeth.

☆彡

And then, he was gone. Monday rolled around and Bam had to go back to Westchester- something about that movie he was telling you about. You were sure he told you this ahead of time, so maybe you were too busy with your groveling to pay attention. Somehow, in the night, he had slipped out without your knowledge, leaving your bed feeling significantly colder when you woke up to the morning light filtering into your room through your silk and lace curtains. The only trace of his presence was found after a good bit of snooping around in your pajamas- a bouquet of flowers on your kitchen table.

They were this pretty purple-pink color you’d never seen in any flower shop, each petal like butter under your touch. A shiny black ribbon around the thick middle tied two slips of paper to the thick green stems. After further examination, you found that one was a plane ticket. The other was a slip of paper reading simply, ‘Call me.’ So you did.

“So, remember that movie I was telling you about?” Bam explained, talking like a kid in a candy shop from wherever he was, “Well, I got just the role for you! All you gotta do is fly out for filming and do a few scenes for us- a week, max.” Honestly, the idea sounded like it came straight from heaven. Trying to hide how hard you were smiling, you at least pretended to need to know more before jumping on, not wanting to see too eager, “What’ll I be doing?” If Bam was a dog, his tail would be wagging. “All your scenes’ll be with me, of course. Little flirting, little kissing- nothin’ too bad. It’d be fun!”

★彡

What you signed on for only really hit you once you showed up on set, if you could call it that. If you didn’t know better, you would think they were just filming in somebody’s house. Sure, they had big, expensive looking cameras and some of those foldy directors chairs you’ve always wanted to sit in, but that’s about where it ended. If you were being honest, you were kind of expecting more from your millionaire boyfriend’s big movie, but you were in no place to complain given the miracle of how you got the job. You wandered around the set like a deer in the headlights, looking for a director, hell even a producer that could tell you where you were supposed to be until you heard a voice call for you, “Oh, Y/N!” A woman excitedly gestured you over to the makeshift makeup table, set up on a kitchen table and you sat down. “Brandon has been talking about you nonstop! I’m so happy I can finally meet you!”

You blinked a few times, “Who?” Studying her face for any recognizable features, her expression echoed the same look of confusion as yours, expecting you to have put two and two together. “Bam. Brandon- my son.” Oh, she’s April! Mentally slapping yourself, she cracked a smile, readying some products while you started to question why your boyfriend's mom was doing your makeup.

You couldn’t deny though, she did one hell of a job. “Hey!” You walked up to Bam right before they were planning to shoot a scene with him, leaning in close and tapping him on the shoulder, your voice a whisper, “Is the makeup lady your mom…?” He just shrugged from where he sat, leaning back “Nah, my mom’s the makeup lady. Why?” Something in you made you decide not to press the issue further, so you just smiled and chuckled, “Oh, nothing! Don’t worry about it.”

☆彡

What Bam told you before the camera’s started rolling echoed in your head: Don’t look at the cameras. Keep your eyes closed. Follow my lead. He talked to you like you were stupid and usually a guy doing something like would be a total turn off, but you couldn’t really be mad at him when he was kissing you like that.

In the midst of one of those hot, passionate, pulling away to gasp for breath kisses, Bam murmured against your lips, “Mmm…wanna do this forever.” You didn’t think too much of it, pulling away slightly. It was a miracle none of your purple lipstick rubbed off onto his skin as you moved to suck at the pale skin of his neck, your fingers nimbly working at the buttons of his shirt. Even though you’d never gone through the scene it still felt rehearsed- button two, three, Bam’s hands on your ass as he pulled you in closer, nearly on his lap as he hiked the back of your skirt up, a grin on his lips. Leaning down, you nibbled a little at his exposed flesh, and just as things were starting to get good,

“Cut!”

[justplainwhump]

Prep Protocol

In the hands of his former colleagues at the facility, Tyler's day is getting even worse.

[Way over his head | Masterpost]

Content / warning: BBU setting, facility whump, multiple whumpers, whumper turned whumpee (ig?), interrogation, shock collar, strapped to a table, threat of noncon, noncon kiss, implied future noncon, intimate whumper, creepy whumper. Yeah this is just me throwing you little bits, but hey, it's Tyler.

Tyler only noticed the plastic wrap around his wrist, when Handler Grimm ran his fingers over it, and Tyler cringed from a sudden, stinging pain. 

A piece of cling wrap peeked out under the leather strap that fixated his arm to the table. The skin underneath was red and slightly swollen, sensitive to touch.

Grimm chuckled.

Tyler felt like all air had been sucked from his lungs.

Under the plastic, thin black bars contrasted against the red.

"Mh. Yeah," Grimm said cheerfully. "002243. That's going to be you, Parker. 002244, your girlfriend. We've got both your admission files ready. Signatures and all. Just a little bit of pre-work we need to do with you." He patted Tyler's wrist. "You'll beg us to get on the Drip, 243, but you'll have to work for that mercy."

243. Just five more than 238. Despair tilted over into hysteric amusement. He could've laughed out. He really hadn't been cut out for that job, had he now?

"Smiling, Parker? Wonder what that's about." Grimm clicked his tongue. "But you know what I wonder about more? I bet you do know." He leaned in on his chair, almost casual, if his hand hadn't been playing with the remote to the shock collar. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" Tyler all but giggled. As if this job allowed any of them a private life. "Who? 238? You know she actually could've been, in another-"

White pain surged through him, swallowed him for what felt like an eternity.

His muscles were screaming, everywhere, his whole body on fire and crushed under the weight of the world at the same time.

"-fucking idiot," Grimm's voice took shape in the whiteness, came in waves with the pain. "Tara McKenzie. Where is she?" 

"G-gone," Tyler said hoarsely. His voice was cracking strangely in his own ears. Had he screamed? He didn't remember. Had 238's voice felt the same to her, after he'd shocked her?

"Gone where?"

"Don't know. She hates me," Tyler croaked, and couldn't even tell, why he added, "Everyone hates handlers."

Grimm leaned in over him, eyes squinted as he looked deeply into Tyler's eyes. "Is he still high?", he asked someone else in the room, not even bothering to shock Tyler again. "What did you give him?"

"Sedated him to get him here", someone said. "Should have worn off by now."

"Well. Not enough. Can't work with him like this. At least not for an interrogation." Grimm sighed. "Let's switch to preparation protocol instead. Soften him up. Gonna help us one way or another."

Tyler swallowed. He didn't know what preparation protocol was, he realized. He'd only ever come in after the Drip. All he knew was, he'd lost already. Whatever they were going to do, he had no reason to give up Tara. He wouldn't.

Next to him, Grimm patted his shoulder. "There's really no reason for relief right now." He nodded towards the one way mirror. "There's a bunch of people here, who take what you did very personal. You've sabotaged the company, Parker. You may have heard those urban legends about maintenance pets? That's what happens to the idiot sort of handlers who fail at their work. Snitches, though? Whole different cup of tea." Grimm reached out, and Tyler could only flinch before the handlers warm hand rested on his bare stomach, stroking his skin, wandering up to his chest. Tyler's heart raced, all of a sudden. "Snitches with a body like yours, Parker? Intimate knowledge of full Romantic training specifications?" Grimm's voice dropped to a whisper. "You know what you're going to be. And prep protocol? Means to get your body acquainted with being used for one thing only. Had some of your colleagues come in, just for that. It's more fun, when it's personal. And you know, Parker, your secrets about Tara will sit very loose once you've understood that the mercy of the Drip is your only way out."

Grimm's breath was hot on Tyler's skin, suddenly, and then the other man's lips grazed along his ear. "You're going to love this, soon enough. But as long as you hate it, remember - you can end it." He pressed a kiss on Tyler's neck and Tyler's whole body stiffened under the touch. "I'm going to my office, follow up on that mess you've thrown us into, Parker, but I will enjoy knowing you in Handler Thompson's capable hands."

Tyler's breath caught.

"Hey T." Carly stepped in at his side, a hard grin on her face. "Love the look."

Grimm retreated, chuckling without any humor. "Let me know when he's ready to talk. Have fun. You can book this as overtime."

Carly reached out and grabbed a handful of Tyler's hair, jerked his head up to make him meet her gaze. "Will do, Sir," she said to Grimm, and then, pulling Tyler even closer, she whispered into his ear, "Going to make this last a long, long while." 

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

Hey! I meant to ask - if I were to start reading your writing, what pieces would you recommend I start with? I know a decent bit about the Flash TV show characters from other mutuals, though I haven't seen a whole lot of the show itself. And I've watched seasons 1-3 of Supernatural but I'm fine with being spoiled on later seasons. And of course, if there's anything else you'd want to recommend, please shoot it my way and I'll give it a read!

That's so sweet of you! Atm I have 3 fics posted and they're all standalone; also all in The Flash fandom (Soul for a Soul is also Arrow though cause Oliver Queen is there).

Let's seeeeeee, you should be able to read any of these with basic knowledge of Flash (and if you have more than basic; there definitely shouldn't be any issues).

I'd recommond "Trophy", my most recent fic. It has one chapter posted atm but I'm quite proud of that chapter and the second is in the editing stage. I don't foresee many if any knowledge issues with that one because it is majorly canon divergent; being a "villain wins" fic and all.

Hope this was a coherent reply haha

Oh and if you like whump; I've got recs for a few different fandoms in my bookmarks :D (some not whump but not many lmao)

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 5

I had a 500 word drabble and then it sprouted a plot to double the length. Come for physical whump and stay for emotional I suppose!

Sunburn

“Ouch… maybe I should’ve brought you in sooner.” A hand reached for their neck and they flinched away, hissing from the pain.

“That’s what I told you,” they gritted out. 

“Yeah, but you’re always saying shit like that. How was I supposed to know you’d blister?”

They touched their victim again and got smacked away this time, fiery eyes trying to judge how they’d react. 

“You said yourself that you started stalking me at the height of summer. Did you ever see me tan? Matter of fact- have you even seen the shade of my hair?!” Even in captivity they couldn’t escape these stupid questions. A startled grunt came out as that same scarlet hair was twisted and pulled up.

“Ah, fascinating! You know what other myths I’ve heard about gingers?” They hissed in their ear, answered by silence and pained breathing. “I’ve heard they have higher pain tolerances. Should we test that too?” 

“Compared to whom? Are you volunteering?” They were thrown to the floor for that and quickly pounced on, pinning them by bare, swollen shoulders. “Don’t touch those, asshole!”

“Or what?” Despite the knowledge that they were being egged on, they squirmed and struggled beneath unyielding force. “Yeah, that’s what I tho- oh!” One hand moved and they saw an opening, but the other clamped hastily over their neck. Then there were long, sharp nails digging into their sunburn and a horrific sensation they recognized all too well.

“Hey-! Don’t peel, that’s gonna make it worse!” 

“It’ll come off anyway. Plus, it’s fun!” They flicked away a piece of dead skin and pulled at another part, feeling the other cringe at the feeling. “And I’m not cleaning up after you if you get little flakes all over the place.”

“Just give me a shirt! Problem solved!” 

“Aw shit, most of these are just tiny pieces…” they murmured, completely ignoring their sensible suggestion. After trying and failing to grip onto them, they pressed their palm down instead and rubbed back and forth on the inflamed skin.

“Ahhhhh- hhhngh!” It felt as if they were touching an open wound, and in some sense they were. Underneath the layer of dead skin was a fragile, damaged one that screamed at the friction, no doubt even redder than before. 

“See? That got it off.” They smiled and swiped their shoulder clean, but wouldn’t stop touching the injured area. “Now those blisters.” 

A finger pressed down, then rocked up to the nail and swiped down the skin, eliciting a scream. Hands reached up blindly, but a well placed zip tie solved that problem rather handily. 

“Fuck off! Fuck all the way off!!” Now it was all five nails, pulling through and- Christ, did they draw blood? The sting was unbearable and they shook, still trying to free themself by any means possible. 

Somehow they were ridiculously dehydrated. And weak because of it. 

Those godforsaken nails tore through to the other shoulder, finally coaxing out two pathetic tears as they busied themselves with the dead skin all over again. 

“I’ll bite off your nails myself, you bastard!” they practically screeched. The harder they fought, the more they were convinced that the plastic would sooner split their skin than break.

“God, I knew you were weak, but you can’t even handle a little burn? Pathetic.”

“I am not!” Their voice cracked. “I know what you’re trying to do! You want me just like everyone else you’ve kept here, you want me to say I deserved all this shit, and then you’re gonna throw me out on the street to be another corpse, just another fucking victim with the same MO!” 

“...oh.” The aggressor leaned back.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ feel bad yet?! One of your precious little projects finally knows who you are, what’s gonna happen to them?! Is that what it takes to knock some sense into that dense fucking skull?!” 

“No, it’s just… mmh. I have a schedule to keep. And if I’m being honest, I really thought you’d break quicker than this. I wanted to enjoy my time with you.” 

Rustling sounds, a cap, and liquid pouring out onto their back. Thick, but runny like water. 

“I may have even gone easy because I do like you. You’re a lot of fun. But we have a long drive to your drop location if I’m to keep my name in the news and not triangulate my location. Well, not my name. The one they’ve given me. The one you know, don’t you?”

They spread it all across their back and down their arms. Cooking oil. That’s what it was.

“Despite your resilience you've definitely been a wimp, you know. You’re still biting angry quips out but complaining about a sunburn. There are worse ways to be burned, you know.” 

That comment finally snapped their captive out of their daze, and wide eyes followed the matchbox out of their pocket. 

“NO! NONONO!” 

“Finally. I didn’t think you were such an idiot on top of everything!” A match slid out and teased the strike pad.

“DON’T!” Despite the thousands of words overwhelming their thoughts, it was nearly impossible to speak. 

“In exchange for what, huh? What would you do to make me stop?”

“Anything, I’ll do anything,” they breathed, hope twinkling beneath fear. Consideration was a mercy, finally understood in this moment.

“After this? Oh, sweetheart, I know you will.”

They struck the match and

let

it

go.

[courtneygacha]

Hostage Scene

Tw: Overstimulation, Theatre Whump, Fake hostage situation, anxiety attack

(Based on a true story)

“Today, we’re going to try an experiment…” Teacher said. “I want everyone to split into 2 groups of 14.”

Whumpee immediately stood up to find her friends. She was almost instantly bombarded by Caretaker, Teammate One, Teammate Two, Friend, and several others who wanted to join their group.

She took charge by grabbing a chair and standing on it, while yelling at the people at the top of her lungs.

“Settle down!” Teacher said loudly, “You have ten minutes to create a scene and plan it, while finding out how to use ALL your people.”

Teammate Two was holding Whumpee’s legs so she could stand and Friend was being ‘harassed’ in the corner. Whumpee couldn’t scream over the group no matter how hard she tried. However, Teammate One could.

“HEY! Y’ALL BE QUIET AND LET WHUMPEE SPEAK!”

The mass fell silent at her voice and stared at Whumpee, who was suddenly regretting trying to stand out in this group. Not only was her group making her a little uncomfortable, but the other team also became quiet and was giving them weird looks.

“Uh… I think we should do a uhm… switch out, so half of the people start the scene, and the other half switches them out and ends the scene?”

Most of the people agreed, so Teammate One pulled up another chair, and started hollering at everyone to find a partner. Whumpee timidly stepped down and stood next to Caretaker.

“Hey, you okay?” Caretaker said, noticing Whumpee’s wide-eyed expression.

“Uh, yeah… it’s just a little loud. I’ll be okay…” She said, brushing her hair with her fingers

Whumpee was a little overwhelmed but decided to take her mind off that by trying to help Teammate One. In hindsight, that was not a good idea.

By the time they had finally figured out who was replacing who, they had 3 minutes left and no idea on what to do.

Whumpee almost lost her voice trying to explain the scene and get everyone to be quiet. Teammate One was standing next to her, screaming in her ear, which was not helping with the rising panic she was experiencing.

“Okay, I’m gonna explain this as quickly as I can! So seven people begin, seven people end, there will be three cops, three robbers, and a hostage.” Whumpee said.

“Who gets to be who?” Teammate Two called out.

Before Whumpee could reply, everyone started talking and trying to claim titles. There was 3 people battling to be the hostage. Someone screamed that Whumpee should be the hostage.

She didn’t get a chance to explain the scene, or at least her basic idea of it, before the timer ran and her group was sent up to go first.

Everyone all yelled out their ideas for some kind of plot of the scene and went up there. This was the knowledge Whumpee had:

- The first hostage was tied to a chair to start

- The police would run in and try to free the hostage

- Someone was having a dramatic character death (Probably the hostage)

- Everything was improv

Whumpee was the replacement hostage, so she was ending the scene. She was super shaky from all of the chaos and loud noises and yelling that had happened and was about to be thrown into a messy situation.

Teammate One’s clap signaled the switch out, and Whumpee ran into the corner the previous person was shoved in.

All of the cops were huddled on the other side of the room, (One of the robbers ‘killed’ a cop) and the group where Whumpee was was trying to get their attention.

Which resulted in a lot more yelling.

The ‘robber’ behind Whumpee was trying to figure out what was going on. Caretaker was knelt down next to them trying to tell them what to do. The ‘robber’ wasn’t doing what they had somewhat planned and it was freaking the both of them out.

Suddenly, someone called time and the scene was over. Whumpee could hardly stand, sitting in the corner for a few moments contemplating what had happened until someone had told her to get up, and she followed her group.

The next team went up, and gave this beautifully chaotic scene and it made her feel worse. Whumpee felt bad that she had wasted a perfect opportunity to make a good scene because they took forever coming up with partners. She wished she had kept her mouth shut and maybe things would’ve gone better.

The other team made comments on how their scene was unprepared and messy. That with the chaos she volunteered herself into… she was just shocked.

She stared at the floor, hands and legs shaking, heart racing, and a little traumatized and overwhelmed.

She didn’t notice Caretaker nudging her shoulder at the end of class.

“Whumpee? You zoned out again?” They said.

“H-Huh?” They jumped, “Yeah, no, I’m okay…”

She wobbly stood up to get her stuff, not noticing Caretaker following her close behind.

“Whumpee?”

She was focused on grabbing her bag.

“Whumpee!”

“Ah! What?” She jumped again.

“You’re shaking.” Caretaker took her wrist, feeling it rattle like a glass pane.

“I…I know…” Whumpee said. Her eyes filled with tears and her mouth felt suddenly dry.

“Hey…” Caretaker said, sitting her down for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

Whumpee just held herself shamefully in response.

“It’s about the scenes, isn’t it?”

Whumpee nodded, a tear falling onto her skirt.

“It wasn’t for a grade or anything, it was just for fun, you don’t need to get so worked up about it.”

“I-I know…” Whumpee finally spoke. “But it all happened so fast and there was all the yelling and no one was cooperating and seeing the other group’s skit made ours look like shit and-“

Caretaker held Whumpee for a moment in consolation. “You tried your best to get everything organized, it’s okay…” They said. “We’ll do better next time.”

Teammate One and Teammage Two walked by and saw a very upset Whumpee.

“Is she okay?!” Teammate Two panicked.

“She’s just overstimulated from that whole… mess of a scene.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry Whumpee!” Teammate Two went in for a hug.

“My yelling probably didn’t help it either…” Teammate One knelt down in front of them.

Whumpee just closed her eyes and took a few shaky breaths to attempt to calm down. She felt another pair of arms wrap around her shoulders.

“I don’t know why we’re hugging, but I’m joining in!” Friend said.

The bell rang and the other three let go. Caretaker stayed by Whumpee’s side.

“We have science together next, right?” They asked.

Whumpee wiped her face and nodded, re-claiming her bag.

“Come here, we’ll walk there together.”

Caretaker led a shaking Whumpee to their next class through the crowded halls.

(Ironic, they made Whumpee the ‘hostage’ ;))

Taglist: @whumpy-whump-fanfics @bookbutterfly9 @whumpdreamz @diamond-flavored-whump

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 23

"I'm doing this for you" / Stormy Night

Yuu was having a wonderful dream about lying in a meadow.

It was warm, the sun beaming down on them pleasantly as they dozed.

The breeze, in contrast, was cool. It danced lightly on the apples of their cheeks.

Yuu tilted their head to the side, rubbing their face in Grim's luxuriously soft fur. He smelled like Yuu's lavender soap, and nuzzled Yuu back sleepily.

Suddenly, the sun behind Yuu's eyelids was gone. Their eyes slid open to see a swarm of dark clouds had suddenly overtaken the sky.

Before they could scrutinize the sudden change in weather, a terrifying bolt of lightning crashed down onto the meadow.

--

Yuu awoke with a start.

They were frozen in place, a light sweat forming on their skin. Their limbs felt numbish, and it took a few moments for them to regain enough feeling to notice Grim was waking up, too.

The disorientation had blurred their vision, and their eyes had a tough time adjusting to the darkness.

The darkness blinked, and Yuu nearly threw up in fear.

It wasn't the suddeness of bring ripped out of their dream. Someone was standing over them, blocking out the moonlight from the windows.

They tried to run through their list of all of the people that could be standing ominously over their bed at what Yuu estimated to be well past midnight, but they knew their was only really one option.

"Malleus?" they croaked out.

"Hello," he replied, sounding far more awake than them.

"Hey," they said, because he didn't respond.

"Ngeh," said Grim, stretching himself awake. "Tsunotaro? What are you doing here?"

"Thank you for asking. I simply wished to speak with you," he replied.

"...huh?" The words didn't quite make sense to Yuu.

"This late?" asked Grim.

"Why, of course," said Malleus. "But not to worry. We can talk somewhere else- you needn't say anything."

Yuu's brow furrowed, but they could faintly make out Malleus reaching down to them, and in an instant, the world changed.

They were holding Grim in the crook of their arm as Malleus held Yuu in his, throw blanket loosely wrapped around their shoulders. They realized they were staring at the layout of Malleus's room.

Yuu blinked harshly. Malleus had the lights on his room.

It was surprisingly messy, given how clinically orderly he usually kept it. Malleus had once explained to Yuu that, though he appreciated that Sebek had arranged it so everything in his room had a place, he honestly preferred it when his items were strewn about without rhyme or reason.

Despite this explanation, though, Yuu couldn't help but be startled at the mess. Who knew such a neat and well-groomed person filled his desk with piles of office tools, textbooks, papers, and what looked like knitting implements?

Malleus placed Yuu on his bed (pushing off a mound of pillows in the process) and climbed in with the pair, despite apparently still being in his school uniform.

"Uhhh..." said Yuu.

"Hey! What are you doin', dragon boy?" exclaimed Grim, standing on Yuu's chest indignantly.

"Nothing," he said, coiling his body around Yuu. "Now, you may rest with the knowledge that you are safe."

A moment went by.

"What is this," said Yuu flatly.

"Why, nothing," replied Malleus lightly. "Go to sleep. I will keep watch."

Yuu glared exhaustively into the darkness. They lifted up their arm and started feeling up Malleus's chest, slapping around in the dark for what they were looking for.

"Hmm?" Malleus made a noise of confusion.

Yuu pulled his chest closer to their ear, and took a listen at his heart.

"Did you have a nightmare?" mumbled Yuu.

"W- I am doing this for you," he insisted. "My intent is pure."

"Mmm-hmm," they groaned. Malleus had already had this dream a few times, where Yuu died or was otherwise gone to him forever.

The disorientation of sleep to wakefulness disoriented Malleus as well, and the fear injected straight into his veins caused him to confuse dream for reality. The only cure was to see Yuu, and know they were alive.

"Get under the covers," grumbled Yuu. "You're cold."

Malleus did as he was told, popping under his comforter and wrapping his arms around Yuu again.

They shivered. His hands were naturally cold, but they pulled him in closer anyway, hoping their own heat trapped under the comforter would warm him up, and also calm him down.

"Thank you," he whispered, and Yuu nodded, though they realized he wouldn't see that.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Spinoff Story Vampire & Vampire Hunter part 23

Warnings: blood drinking, slightly dehumanizing talk and implications

Callaham visibly blushed in embarrassment with a shy smile.

Mallory couldn't stifle a wide yawn, the energy he'd woken up with already depleted. He scooted back and laid down with his head on the pillow again. “Do you all mind getting out of my bedroom now to let me sleep some more?” he asked sheepishly.

“Oh! Of course!” Anisa quickly said, and looped her arm around Callaham, tugging him toward the door and raising an eyebrow at Alex in silent command for him to follow.

“Relax, I’m coming, give me a minute,” Alex groaned. Anisa narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, but still left, leaving him alone with the hunter.

Mallory stiffened as Alex shifted his attention onto him.

“Hey, uh… was that feeding okay?” He asked quietly.

Mallory blinked up at him in confusion. “What?”

Alex guilty averted his gaze, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt. “I mean, did I do a better job this time? You know… for feedback purposes?”

“Feedback purposes?” Mallory echoed distantly.

Alex scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. “Yeah, because… well, you know how I never lie? I have to admit, you’re only the third real human I've ever actually fed on before. I’ve practiced biting techniques on filled bags of blood, and used to rely solely on those to sustain me, but I hadn't regularly fed off a human before until I captured you. That's… part of why I’m so bad at it. I don’t alway intend to be rough, is what I'm trying to say. It’s… I’m trying to apologize. I think?” he stumbled clumsily over his own words, and eventually he shook his head to himself, abruptly standing up.

“Sorry, I… nevermind. I’ll… leave you to rest.” Alex awkwardly dismissed himself and hurried out of the room, leaving Mallory wondering what had just transpired between them. Was he really only the third human he’d ever fed off of?! It actually made sense, now that he thought back on all the past feedings. How Alex often took a moment to try out different positions before biting down, like he was uncertain how to do it properly. Why it always hurt so much, especially the first few times before the vampire got the general hang of it.

Mallory almost felt genuinely bad for him, after obtaining this new knowledge. And maybe it was the reason for his terrible social skills too – he hadn’t been in enough conversations to know how to respond to everything. Interesting. Mallory filed those tidbits of information away into his mind in case it became useful later, before finally letting himself drift off to sleep again.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @floral-comet-whump

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @nevermore-ramblings @mj-or-say10

[librathefangirl]

9, 10 and 17 for your fic wrapped pls 🥺❤️

My pleasure! Here you go 💜

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

Okay, so romantically speaking, this year I've only posted fics for Melizabeth in different constellations - Elizabeth/Meliodas, Goddess Elizabeth/Meliodas, Elizabeth Liones/Meliodas, and Liz/Meliodas. Out of those four, Goddess Elizabeth/Meliodas was the most fun to write. I just really enjoy exploring that era and that pairing to be honest. I mean, enemies-to-lovers in a holy war whose love story was so revolutionary that the gods decided to kill their own heirs?

Liz/Meliodas takes second place because Liz and the Danafor era deserves some more love - but I've only written one fic with Liz and it wasn't that much focus on her/her relationship with Mel in that one.

But if we're talking pairing as in two people with any kind of relationship (romantic, platonic, whatever) then it's hands down Meliodas & Zeldris. I mean, it's the demon bros, do I need to say more? I am, personally, a huge sucker for siblingship of any kind in media. (Maybe because I have a lot of siblings myself? Maybe because my aroace self feel a bigger connection to those relationships even tho I really enjoy romantic ones too). Plus, there is so much fun dynamics to explore with these two; Mel and Zel's childhood, the betrayal, reconciling after everything, or other stuff completely (<- I'm actually low-key working on an au where Mel and Zel are goddesses and Ellie is a demon and it's been really interesting to figure out the brothers' dynamic without the canon betrayal, also they're twins in that one fyi).

10. What work was the quickest to write?

Ooh now that's an interesting question. Let's see... The fastest ones were probably all written in February to be honest, because that was my most productive writing month (I was also doing Febuwhump which added pressure and motivation to complete the fics quick lol).

There All Along was probably the one I finished the quickest. It was written in February, within a day, and also one of my shortest fics.

My Love, It Burns was probably the quickest longer/multichapter fic I wrote this year. It was written during the end of February, also within a day I think, and, well, inspiration just struck. I had a clear idea of what I wanted to write, and was excited to try writing two different endings to the same fic. (Plus I wanted to write the endings close together so they matched up well).

But also telling how quick a fic is to write is hard lol usually I write down the idea and maybe even make the document but then don't actually work on it until days/weeks/months later...

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

This is actually a difficult question. Because while I do love writing about Meliodas (he's my blorbo, my baby - the only fic out out 25 that he wasn't tagged as a character still had him featured in the background and as a "topic"). But I also feel like I tend to write other characters' pov more than his (possibly because he's mostly the one getting whumped lol). So Meliodas is a character I like to write stories of, but if were talking point of view and all, I liked writing Merlin and what's-his-face... Gavin!

Merlin is actually a character I find hard to write (but hey it can be a fun challenge) but also fun to write. I especially love how she can be like a bridge of knowledge between what the other characters know of Meliodas/demons and the truth (that she knows). Writing from Merlin's pov also allows me to really tap into the age and history of Meliodas and her :)

Gavin (my oc from One Man's Beast, aka the Monster Sins AU) was fun to write because to be honest outsider's pov is really funny when the Seven Deadly Sins are involved (the chaos! lol). Also it allowed me to explore the AU in a better way. (<- speaking of, I'm playing around a bit with the outsider's pov in my next Monster Sins AU fic too, because a part of that one is from Dreyfus and/or Hendy's pov)

Anyway! ao3 wrapped (ask game) <- if anyone wanna send me more questions :)

[mintartem]

https://www.tumblr.com/almacambiondaughterofsaleos/756497374395891712/azazel-and-vaggie-being-adam-hater-azazel-hey?source=share

Context around azazel. In islam his the satan the adversary, to my knowledge he was a djinn not angel he turn into angel because he devoted to God. Also this ask is kinda cruel

While I am not knowledgeable in Islam, I am open to learning more about it. I think the Azazel used in the show is either the Christian one or the one in Judaism. We will just see if he’ll make an appearance in the show.

I agree with you, the ask is kind of cruel. I am a sucker of Adam whump so I’d prefer if the characters says those kinds of things to Adam with intention to hurt him but didn’t realize their actions will have consequences (Sort of like this fic from Angelia Dark)