#there's literally just so much whump material

[greensaplinggrace]

the coming storm is my new favorite magnus archive episode so far. why did he have to whimper in pain so many times...

[whumptober]

FAQ

Please read this post before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Prompts cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? No. We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

[pendarling]

Some Evil Things Whumper Could Be Doing + Descriptive Whump Language

Warning: I do NOT condone any acts of violence and such. These are all just for writing (Tumblr please don’t come after me😢🥺)

TW: Everything

Harsh cold breathing as Whumpee stands outside in the cold winter. The ice biting their bare feet deep in the snow as chilly winds blow their soaking body

Sneezing, sniffling, barfing and passing out after returning inside

Cutting hair and leaving uneven edges or pulling and tugging hair off. Whumper could also enforce some emotional damage by forcing Whumpee to cut off their own hair in front of a mirror.

"Fucking do it already!" "Please don't hurt me, I'll do it." "Cut it before I do!" "Okay, I will...-- I'm sorry-- I will..."

Keeping Whumpee awake all night by not interacting with them during the day but torturing them throughout the night. Whumpers who do this for about a week will have a Whumpee who refuses to sleep at night due to the fear of suddenly being jolted awake with new pain

Not letting Whumpee speak. Stuffing a cloth down Whumpee's mouth and reducing their language to just begging. That way once they appear in front of Caretaker they will be too afraid to speak or will have forgotten.

Purposely leaving wounds unattended after cutting up Whumpee's legs, thighs, hips, and hands and waiting for blood to dry, then cutting it again so it never heals.

Tightening ropes or chains around their wrists, ankles and torso enough to make it burn or dig into their skin, especially if the rope is made up of rougher materials

Feeding Whumpee nothing for days and then overwhelming them with so much food that they physically can't hold it down anymore

That dizzying feeling that leaves them sweating and anxious when Whumpee has not eaten or drank anything for so long that their mind is mentally congested

"Remember, your life, body, and thoughts are controlled by me, owned by me, and mine only. You don't have a world outside of this."

Reminding Whumpee every day that the search for them is slowly coming to a close and spreading lies that their friends and family have come to understand that Whumpee is dead

When Whumpee is so broken that they finally mindlessly agree to whatever Whumper instructs them to do

Whumpees that get slight Stockholm syndrome for their Whumper and fall into an obedient pattern with undeserved sympathy

Taking Whumpee outside after who knows how long behind closed doors. Then Whumper points out how literally not a single person knows who they are or are willing to report them

"Say it." "I'm a waste of space. Nobody wants me." "Was that so hard?"

Rewarding Whumpee after every time they've completed a chore or task with little torture or no torture at all. Alternatively, they can let Whumpee pick what they'll be dealing with for the day as a reward so at least they know they chose that option.

Hissing and crying when a hot piece of metal is slightly touching their skin. Or if you want to be extra evil: go ahead and rapidly run it up and down the forearm

When Whumpee eventually forgets their own name and history. They stopped crying a few weeks ago, they ask for permission to speak or go to the bathroom, eat, sleep, move etc...

"What do you say?" "Thank you, sir/ma'am." "You're learning well!"

Making Whumpee sit in their own dirt and blood as the pain of their wounds festering with sores, rashes and cavities builds up

When Whumper is taking Whumpee outside and before doing so, they hide their scars and bruises with makeup and clothing then practice their excuses if someone does suspect

~~~

MASTERLIST

[harukamitsuki]

Ur soooo right abt Lance I think he just became the fandom’s darling because people saw inklings of insecurity and home sickness and zeroed in. He’s whump bait, but like without the more complicated issues tied into Shiro, Allura, and Keith’s problems. Prime projection material.

He has potential and I appreciate fandom’s ability to see that in him, but you’re so right that people have completely forgotten who he is in canon. He *could* have been better, but he wasn’t and it’s frustrating that people have lost sight of that because I think it would genuinely produce more interesting takes on his character and role in the story. As someone who genuinely wants him to be a better character it makes me want to eat dry wall.

Lance, first and foremost, is the everyday man. That's why he's so popular. He is far from a piloting prodigy, flirts with every pretty girl, funny and exaggerative, has a generic weapon like a rifle, is the first paladin to find his Lion, and has the most basic interal conflict there can be. Which is why everyone loves him.

Shiro? Shiro is confirmed gay, was hailed as the most promising pilot pre-canon, was officially the youngest man sent into space, but also had an illness for canon forgot about it, had major PTSD that left him unable to move in most cases, considered himself broken if his hallucinations said anything, and literally died. He's good leader matieral, able to handle a group of four wildly differing teenagers and only really let his emotions plan his course of action once (when Allura was kidnapped). This man is insanely skilled but also insanely traumatised.

Keith? Keith beat all of the records Shiro set and was known as a genius in the field, only held back by his defense mechanisms and rushing on ahead. He was abandoned by his mother when he was a toddle, then his father died implicitly before his eyes, he was then an orphan where he was probably passed around from family to family, ot feeding into his adandonment issues. He gained a friend in Shiro, the first person to reach out to him, and then lost him a few years later. He finally gets Shiro back, only for more shit to happen. He finds out his mom was Galra, and becomes sorry that he even existed because of this. Nobody on Voltron actually felt like his friend with Pidge constantly calling him a loner right after he lost Shiro, Hunk poking fun at his Galra genes, and Lance playing up this one-sidedly rivalry and taking everything he does as an attack on his person. He loses Shiro again and has to constantly give him up for the sake of Voltron and the universe. The only time he can focus on himself is when Shiro is back and he distants himself for the team's sake and they just let him go. He's so affected by grief before the story starts and it doesn't give him a break. Even so, he's so kind and genuine about everything. He becomes the Black Paladin, not because he had no choice. Maybe at first, but he grows into that role and becomes a great leader.

Pidge? Pidge is a prodigy and a genius, able to hack firm and software from alien planets. She can fly a jet just from reading instruction manuels and have little to no trouble. At the same time, lost her brother and father all at once. When she finally got some clue as to what happened to them, she was kicked out and banned from the Garrison. She disguised as a boy and snuck in, abandoning her dream of becoming a fighter pilot because navigation would teach her more about scanning space for extraterrestrial communication and lifeforms. When she finally has the chance to find her family, she has to constantly give them and clues she may find up because Volton and the universe come first.

Hunk? Hunk is just as much of a genius as Pidge, even if the writers forget, with him able to spot foul play on an alien ship easily. He's so kind and loving yet fierce with his protection and so strong when defending his friends. He keeps spirits high with his warming attitude, even if he's the most home sick of them all. He acts the most realistically to become a child soldier. Still, even when he's terrified, he pushes on so that people like Shay can find out what freedom is. Feel it for themselves. When they go back to Earth, Hunk is the only one who has to fight to get his parents back and earn his happy ending. He suffers throughout the series, but he's always looking at the greener side.

Allura and Coran? They lost their families and thejr entire species before canon ever began. They lost so much and have nothing but revenge fueling them. They have to deal with the fact that they slept through the massacre of the Altean species and woke up far too late. They have to deal with inexperienced humans who have no real attachment to the war. They have to deal with the fact that they are the last of the Alteans. And when it's finally revealed that there are more survivors, they have to deal with the fact that they're being farmed by Lotor/Honerva for their quintessence. Allura was so depressed in season eight after falling for Lotor then being used so thoroughly by him. Coran never got to say goodbye to Allura before she died. Despite this, they still fight with all they have, making sure nobody has to face the loss they've felt.

Lance? Um. He's insecure about his place in the team? I guess Veronica nearly died but she didn't so whatever... He did spend a lot of his time in the Garrison being compared to Keith... But he also spent time he could've used to better his skills to sneak out and flirt with girls or hit the arcade. Um... I guess...

Um. Yeah.

See, I always wonder how people see such angst potential in Lance, or even see him as an angsty character in general. They act as though he's suffered the most in canon when, in reality, he hasn't. He has the most generic troubles and, I guess, it's more relatable that way? People don't have to struggle to relate to PTSD or abandonment issues or identity issues or child soldiers or losing your entire species.

Insecurity? That's easy because everyone feels insecure.

Which is why Lance is so popular.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this isn't valid. It sucks to feel insecure and doubt your every move. The only difference is how common Lance's issues are compared to everyone else. Because Lance is generic as hell, people love to vent through him.

Lance has a stable friendship group, is constantly given everything he wants, and even manages to destroy what has been the canon ship over decades (Kallura). He invented a rivalry with Keith, who didn't even know who he was when they met. Because of that, people either ship them for the 'rivals to lovers' trope or hate Keith and act as though Keith was bullying him. Shiro doesn't take Lance's side often because Lance's ideas are dangerous or reckless. He still tries to let him down gently, making logical arguments (see: Shiro explaining that Red is fire-resistant so Keith has to go to the BOM HQ). Oh, but he's not on Lance's side so the fandom decides he's an awful leader. As if they know what a good leader is. They think a good leader is someone who gets distracted by a pretty girl and blames everyone but himself.

The only thing not given to Lance on a silver platter is Black. Thank God. But because he wasn't given Black when he was given everything else, fandom decides that DreamWorks hates Lance and decides to argue that Lance was always destined to be the Black Paladin. Ignoring how Black's colour scheme was LITERALLY ON KEITH'S CLOTHES.

So. Yeah. He definitely has potential before DreamWorks just started rewarding him for breathing. The insecurity he has could have been a good way to develop his character. He could have become someone outside of Keith or Shiro's shadow. He didn't need a love interest to prosper, as proven by the fact that he never prospered in canon.

His potential was there, just ignored because the writers were allergic to complex characters, even to the smallest degree.

(They should have gotten the writers for Race to the Edge to do Voltron ugh)

[sequinsmile-x]

Even Statues Crumble if They’re Made to Wait - Part 2

She can't stop thinking about the fact she isn't even meant to be here. That she's still supposed to be at home on maternity leave instead of sitting in a church in Colorado wondering if she'd ever see her husband or her little girl again.

A Minimal Loss AU with a Young Hotchniss twist.

Part 2/4

Part 1

-x-

Hi friends,

thanks for the love on part one!!

Since I have the self control of a toddler with access to a credit card in literally all aspects of my life, this fic is now 4 parts, not 3. Originally this was going to go back and forth between Emily and Aaron's perspective, but then I was at over 4k with just Emily's...so I decided to split them!

Part 3 and 4 will be up over the weekend <3

Let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 4k

Warnings: Emily Prentiss whump, canon typical violence, descriptions of violence

Read over on A03, or below the cut

April 1995 

She blows out a slow breath as she looks at herself in the mirror, her hands slightly shaky as she smoothes out the material of her black dress, making sure there were no obvious creases. 

“Sweetheart, are you almost ready to go?” 

She looks at him in the mirror, their eyes meeting from where he is standing several paces behind her, and she shrugs, “I don’t know.” 

It was more honest than she felt she should be, but he’d never judged her for anything. He’d never done anything other than love her and she was too exhausted, emotionally and physically from the last couple of weeks, to even try and pretend she wanted to hide anything from him. He made everything calmer, softer. Just having him in the same room brought her a sense of peace she was once sure she’d never get to experience. Even today, on one of the hardest days of her life so far, he made her feel better. She did the same for him. She was his port in a storm just as much as he was hers. Their relationship had always had this kind of give and take, a relentless type of love for each other that she now isn’t sure she could ever live without. 

“Mom is going to be…” she blows out a shaky breath and it catches in her throat, aching as it escapes as a humourless laugh, “She’s going to be difficult today,” she turns and looks at him, her arms crossed over her chest, “When she grieves she lashes out. When my grandfather died she was awful,” she presses her lips together in an attempt to stop them from trembling, “She told me I was a disappointment when I snuck a couple of drinks at the funeral,” she wipes a tear from her cheek, “Told me I was a disappointment to Granddad too,” she shakes her head as a sob break breaks free, loud and painful as she covers her face with her hands, “How ridiculous is that? I’m burying my dad today and I’m thinking about what my mom is going to say.” 

The way her face crumples, her strong hold on her emotions giving way in front of him, makes him move, finally stepping towards her from where he had been rooted to the spot. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close as she collapses against him. She grasps the back of his jacket, grabbing fistfuls of it in a way he knows will crease it but he doesn’t care. He cups the back of her head, his blunt nails scratching lightly at her scalp as he shushes her, his lips against her forehead. 

“I’m right here, Em,” he assures her, running his hand up and down her back, “And I’ll be right with you the whole time,” he says, pulling back to look at her. He wipes a tear from her cheek, his touch so gentle it makes her ache, “You don’t have to do things like this alone anymore,” he smiles at her, the half smile she loves so much, “It’s one of the upsides of having a husband who’s entirely obsessed with you.” 

She chokes out a laugh and nods, the brief moment of joy, of happiness, all too fleeting as she rests her forehead on his shoulder. “Thank you.” 

“For what, sweetheart?” He asks, his hand still running up and down her back. She pulls back to look at him again and smiles sadly, leaning in to stamp her lips quickly against him.

“For loving me enough to make me laugh on a day like today.” 

He kisses her cheek, “Always.”

It’s as hard as she thought it would be. She feels like she’s on display, her grief a grim sideshow that everyone wants to see a moment of. She sits between her mother and Aaron in the pew, her eyes fixed on her father’s casket, tears she couldn’t stop burning paths down her cheeks, sticky and warm as they slip down her neck. 

The day mostly passes in a blur as people she recognises but doesn’t remember the names of pass on their condolences, stories about her father echoing around them all, their versions of him so different to her own. She just about bites her tongue when Elizabeth introduces her and Aaron to an old friend, someone Emily hadn’t seen since she was young, and manages to mention that they’d eloped a year and a half ago. A sad smile fixed on her face as she lamented it meant her husband had never got the chance to give away his only daughter. 

Emily had stepped away after that, her smile as tight as Aaron’s grip on her as she excused herself to give herself a minute, guilt she knew she shouldn’t feel lingering in her gut. She didn’t regret her choices at all. She loved Aaron, she loved the simplicity of their wedding - something they never would have got if Elizabeth had even been remotely involved. She’d always been closer to her dad than she had been her mother, but the relationship was still strained, still never what she’d wanted. When she told her parents that she’d eloped with Aaron, a man they’d only known as one of their security details until he was suddenly their son-in-law, they’d reacted poorly. She knew it was a shock, that they needed some room to come to terms with it, but some of the things that had been said still hurt almost 18 months later.

If she wasn’t as in love with Aaron as she was, if their relationship was already fraying at the seams like everyone told her it would be, she knows she’d have stuck it out to the bitter end just to prove her parents wrong. Now her dad would never get to see her have the life she wanted, he’d never get to watch as she had children of her own one day and made vastly different decisions to the ones he and Elizabeth had. And, in her worst moments, Emily thinks that was what hurt the most - that she’d never be able to prove to him that she was more than what he’d always thought she was. 

“How are you doing?” 

She turns to look at her husband, her lips pressed together as she looks around her parents’ home, “I always hated this place.” 

“I know you did,” he replies, wrapping his arm around her, hooking it over her shoulders so she can sink into his side.

“It was never home,” she says, sipping her wine, looking around the sea of faces in the room, people she knew her father hated mourning his death as if they’d been friends, “I never really had one,” she tilts her head to look up at him, “Until you.” 

He pulls her closer to kiss the side of her head and he squeezes her arm, desperate to press as much love onto her skin as he can, wanting to make sure she remembered how loved she was by him. 

“I never had a home until you either.” 

___

Things go wrong almost immediately. 

It takes everything in her not to react when the social worker is killed in front of them. It makes her tense in a way she hadn’t expected. It’s not the worst thing she’s ever seen, not by a long shot, but she’d spent the last 10 weeks wrapped up in a baby bubble. Every single thing she had thought or done in that time had been about Alice and getting used to being a mother to her, every second dedicated to getting to know her daughter. 

It’s a sharp return to the violence of her job, of the world she had voluntarily entered years ago, that she wasn’t prepared for. All of her husband’s assurances that this would be a simple case gone in the half-second it takes Cyrus to shoot the woman who Emily had only met a couple of hours previously.  She watches Cyrus carefully, dusting off her profiling skills as he skulks around, ordering his followers what to do with an ease that lets her know he’s aware of his power over the people here. The thought of it bothers her, makes her skin itch, because she knows how these things often end up. That Cyrus is not the kind of man to give up that power now things were slowly slipping through his fingers.

She blows out a breath as she sits next to Spencer in one of the pews in the church, smiling tightly at him as he looks at her. She tries to hide a wince as she sits, the movement making her breasts ache. She should have been back at the hotel by now, should have either fed Alice or pumped again. Her breasts were slowly filling up, a persistent ache building in her chest and she curses herself for not bringing the pump with her at least so she could relieve some of the discomfort she knows is only going to get worse during the time they were here. 

She knows she hasn’t covered the pain well when Spencer’s brows knit together in concern, “Emily-”

“I’m okay,” she says, cutting him off and looking around to make sure no one is listening in on their conversation, “Just uncomfortable. That’s all.”

He stares at her for a moment before clearing his throat, clearly a little embarrassed about what he was about to say, “Cabbage leaves or ice packs help with breast engorgement.” 

She chuckles despite the situation they found themselves in, the danger lingering in the air, making it almost as thick and cloying as the Colorado heat, “I’m not going to ask how you know that,” she replies dryly, “And I don’t exactly see any cabbage leaves or ice packs around here, do you?” She asks, raising her eyebrow at him, “I’ll be fine.” 

He nods, “Hotch will probably already be outside figuring out how to get you out of here.” 

Her smile slips a little because she knows it’s true. She knows that the moment her husband found out what had happened here he’d be taking charge, that he’d have immediately headed to the command post with their daughter in his arms. She gets it. She’d do the same thing, not able to sit in a hotel room doing nothing whilst her husband was in danger, but she doesn’t want Alice near any of this. The thought of it makes her breath catch in her throat, the mental image of Aaron standing outside with their tiny daughter in his arms enough to make her falter. 

“Yeah,” she chokes out, forcing a shaky smile as she looks back at him, “You’re right. The team will be on their way and everything. We’ll be home soon.” 

Her attention is dragged to the front, Cyrus’s righteous announcement everyone had drunk poison ringing out around them, hanging in the air along with the panic it creates until he admits it was just a test of loyalty. She looks back at Spencer, and sees the same concern in his eyes that she feels spark in her belly, a sense of dread she can’t shake off that makes her wish she’d never agreed to it in the first place. 

She smiles at Spencer, hoping it’s encouraging as she watches Cyrus and his men mobilise, the suspicious looks they throw towards them setting fire to the spark of concern low in her gut. She feels it spread throughout her body, burning her from the inside out, the feeling that this wasn’t anywhere near over yet overwhelming her.

“Let’s hope the team figure it out sooner rather than later,” she says, not sure if she’s trying to reassure Spencer or herself. 

___

She avoids eye contact with Spencer as they get led down a hallway, an unfamiliar hand buried deep in her hair as she gets dragged along. Her eyes flick to Spencer, and she sees the fear he doesn’t cover quite well enough, something she knows Cyrus will latch on to as well.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus spits, his fury thrumming in the small space they are in. The air thick with it, making it hard to suck in a breath. 

“What are you talking about?” Emily asks, feigning innocence as she flashes Spencer a look, quietly pleading for him to stay silent, “Why do you think one of us is an FBI Agent?” 

Cyrus’s grip on his gun tightens along with his jaw, “It was all over the news. I know it’s one of you. God will forgive me for what I must do.” He clicks the safety off of his gun and points it at Spencer’s head. 

Emily looks at Spencer, sees the calculation he’s making. Selfless, stupid bravery she knows he’s picked up from a little too much time with Derek. She knows she has to beat him to it, the words slipping past her lips before she can fully think it through.

“It’s me.” 

For a moment, everything is silent. One brief second of peace stretched out between them as what she has admitted settles around them. 

Then he grabs her. Pulls her up by the hair with such force she yells out, unable to stop the reaction she likes to think she’d usually be able to control. He throws her against a wall, a mirror smashing against her that she hears more than feels, the slice of the glass that cuts her arm a delayed sensation, something she can’t quite match up with what’s happening to her. 

She isn’t sure if she trips or if he pushes her to the ground, but before she can figure it out he’s kicking and punching her. His steel-capped boots connecting with wherever he can hit her, forcing oxygen out of her lungs as her ribs crack, leaving her gasping and breathless, as she grunts in pain. When he kicks her in the stomach she places her hands over it to protect it, a deeply ingrained instinct to keep her baby safe as if her body and brain hadn’t entirely caught up with the fact she hadn’t been pregnant in over two months. She feels two of her fingers break with the force of it, her wedding rings pushed into her skin in a way that for the first time ever brings pain instead of comfort. 

She looks over at the boxes of food and supplies the FBI had sent in, and she knows there will be listening devices in there - that her friends will be hearing all of this. She knows them well enough to know their instinct would be to storm the place, to force their way in and save her and as many people as they could, but that couldn’t happen. They couldn’t let Cyrus have the final showdown he was looking for and turn him into a hero in some twisted folklore. 

She prays to a god she isn’t entirely sure she believes in that her husband isn’t the one listening in, that he’d be spared this, as she sucks in a breath to seal her fate. 

“I can take it.” 

Her words have the effect she knew they’d have on Cyrus. They rile him up, make him angrier as he continues his assault on her, and she can only hope the others will have understood the message. 

“I can take it,” she repeats, her words morphing into a groan as the pain takes over, everything else fading into the background other than Cyrus’s callous instruction. 

“Tie her up,” he insists, “Take her upstairs.” 

She’s aware that she’s fading in and out of consciousness. Everything hurt. Her head. Her ribs. Her stomach. Every part of her body seemingly battered and bruised as she lay on the bed she’d been dumped on, barely able to move, 

“You shouldn’t have lied about who you were.”

She just about lifts her head as Kathy, Jessica’s mother, walks into the room. She’s got a washcloth in her hand, something soft and gentle about her as she sits on the edge of the bed and dabs at the blood Emily can feel drying on her face. 

“He said this would happen,” Kathy carries on, barely making eye contact, “It was the prophecy.” 

Emily holds back a scoff, not wanting to upset the fragile woman who was helping her, the trust between them as delicate as she was, “A self-fulfilling prophecy.” 

Kathy ignores her as she continues to clean some of the blood from her face, “He’s a dangerous man to lie to.”

Emily breathes out slowly, suppressing a groan when it hurts. She watches Kathy for a moment, before she carefully brings up what she’d noticed earlier.

“It would take a very brave woman to lie to him knowing what it would cost,” she says and Kathy freezes, pulling back from her entirely, “It would have to be because of something very important.” Kathy stands up, her hands tight around the washcloth as she turns her back to Emily, and she panics, not wanting to lose her chance to get some information that could help save her life, “I have a daughter too,” Emily says, the mention of Alice makes her voice shake, a vulnerability she’d once only had when it came to Aaron. She knew she’d adjust eventually, that she would get used to spending time away from her, but she couldn’t get past the fact that she shouldn’t even be here, “I’d do anything to protect her.” 

Kathy freezes and turns back to look at her, not getting any closer, “How old is she?” 

She presses her lips together, “10 weeks.”

Kathy frowns as she looks at Emily, “They’re so innocent when they are that small,” she smiles wistfully, as if wishing for the days when her life was different, “Life changes that.” She stares at Emily for a moment before she walks over quickly, moving fast so she can’t change her mind. She undoes the binds on Emily’s hands, “Listen to what he says,” she warns her as she steps back, already heading towards the door, “Then you might see your little girl again.” 

Emily opens her mouth to respond, to call out after her, but the door is already closed behind her. She lays there for a second before she sits up. She hisses, the pain briefly unbearable as her ribs scream at her. She pauses and takes a few deep breaths before she tries again, this time making it to her feet. She walks, slowly, to the tiny excuse for a bathroom attached to the room she is locked in. 

She stares at herself in the small, dirty mirror above the sink. She takes the time to check all of her injuries. The bruised skin that encircled her eye and spread down her cheek looked worse than she thought it would. She presses her fingers to her cheekbone, gently feeling to see if it is broken, and lets her arm drop to her side when it gets too much to keep holding it up. The cut on her arm had stopped bleeding, but it needed cleaning. She looks down at her swollen fingers, sees how her rings are too tight, a touch too familiar to when they swelled when she was pregnant for her liking. She regulates her breathing as she grabs the rings, breathing in and out twice, before she pulls them off, her teeth clenched tightly as she holds back the cry of pain as much as she can. She looks at the rings for a moment before she leans down and drops them into her boot, wanting to make sure they are safe and couldn’t possibly fall out of her pocket.

She groans as she undoes her shirt. It’s not her bruises that shock her, not the grim pattern of black and blue splattered across the pale skin her husband had always gently teased her for, but the bright red skin of her breasts. The ache in them was still there, just diminished compared to her other injuries now. She gently rests her hand against one of them and she thinks of Alice, desperately trying to remember how much she’d pumped before she came here, hoping it was enough and finding herself grateful for the first time for her oversupply.

“Fuck,” she mutters, leaning on the sink for a moment as she weighs up her options. She touches her engorged skin and immediately winces, the pain intense for a moment, a sharp stab that steals her breath away. She knew she had to relieve it somehow, had to do something to make sure that she wasn’t also walking away from this with an infection. She unclasps the maternity cups on the bra and prepares to manually express, something she hadn’t had to do once in the last 10 weeks. 

She does what the nurse had shown her when Alice was born, her teeth pressed together as she holds back a whimper at the pain, her eyes squeezed shut as she forces back the tears that had gathered in them. It feels like a relief when it starts to work, a literal weight lifted from her chest as it finally gets a little bit easier to breathe. 

She does her bra and shirt back up as soon as she can, not wanting to be exposed if someone comes barging in and she walks back to the bed, slowly lowering herself onto it. She sighs and closes her eyes, desperately pretending she was back home with her family - the hope that she would definitely get to see them again feeling more and more misplaced with every passing second.

___

It’s chaos when the raid starts. 

She’s unsteady on her feet, desperately looking for Spencer before she heads outside herself, not wanting to lose him after everything they’d been through the last couple of days. She almost walks straight into Derek and Dave, held steady by their hands on her shoulders as she briefly sways in place. 

“Prentiss,” Derek says, his sigh of relief paired with the look of horror on his face at her appearance, “I’m so glad to see you.” 

“You go outside, Bella. We’ve got it from here,” Dave insists, the same look on his face that Derek had and she wonders if she somehow looked worse than she did the last time she looked in a mirror. 

She shakes her head fiercely, “We’ve got to get Reid.” 

Dave and Derek exchange a look in front of her, one that makes anger they don’t deserve roll in her gut because she doesn’t want or need their pity. 

“Hotch is waiting outside for you,” Derek says, purposely hitting her Achille’s heel, a move they all know is dirty but don’t acknowledge, “We’ll get Reid. You go see your husband before he yells at someone else who could end his career.”

She nods, filing away that comment for later, her sudden need to see Aaron, to hug him, overwhelming. “Alice isn’t… she isn’t out there is she?” 

Dave shakes his head and squeezes her shoulder, “She’s back at the hotel with JJ. She’s safe.”

She chokes on a sob, her ribs aching with it as it catches on every one as it escapes her chest, “She’s okay?” 

Derek smiles softly at her, “She’s okay. The sooner you get outside the sooner you can see her. We’ve got Reid, okay?” 

She nods again and for once she doesn’t want to argue, can’t find it in herself to be contrary, she just wants out of the place she’d spent the last couple of days thinking could be her grave. She walks away without saying anything else, using the wall to guide her out, not sure she trusts her feet, her entire body weaker than she thought it ever had been. 

She steps outside, the air rancid with gunfire and overwhelming noise but it was fresher than it had been in the compound so she tries to fill her lungs but chokes on it, coughing as she comes to a brief stop. 

She looks up and sees Aaron in the distance, and the relief is palpable, almost enough to knock her off her feet as she slowly walks towards him. 

The church explodes behind her before she can call his name. 

-x-

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[zanarkandfayth]

Would love to read your answers to questions 3, 9, 13, 17, 18, 26, 29, 31, 32, 50, and, if there's another number (or several) you really wanna answer, please add those too ✨

thank you for the ask!! <33 I wrote you novels in return gjdskglj

3. In your opinion, what’s your best fic?

oooh this one is so hard because I love most of my fics for different reasons, even my older ones (at least the ones on ao3. we ignore the ones left behind on ffnet lmao). hhhh, of completed ones that are posted, imma have to say monsters honestly, because damn did I put some heart into that. but the one I'd probably consider absolute best is the still ongoing, not yet posted 600K+ beast of a fic I usually refer to as "nanofic" that I've been working on since 2019. it won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it just gets so deep into noct's trauma that I inflict on him and his slow recovery from it, more than I've done for any other fic, and I've poured so much blood sweat and tears into that thing, it's kinda everything to me.

9. Have you ever written for a fandom without watching/reading/playing the source material?

written, no. been tempted to in the past, but it was too much effort and I already had too many fics for my main fandoms. I have read fandom blind for both harry potter and supernatural in the past though, like lates 2000s into mid 2010s. both were kinda on accident. supernatural in particular is because it kept getting crossed over with MULTIPLE of my fandoms. psych, house md, and criminal minds. so I started reading non-crossover supernatural fics in self-defense gsdklgjdks

13. What’s the biggest change between your style when you started in fandom and today?

I mean… this is the first paragraph of one of my fics from my first fandom when I was fifteen. you tell me 😂

"Relena smiled as she sipped her tea and mentally reviewed the day's schedule. 8:00 am- peace talk to the world. 10:00 am- conference with Romefeller. 1:00 pm- try to convince Dorothy to become a pacifist because she was to stupid to understand that Dorothy loved war. Rest of the day- annoy the HELL out of Heero Yuy. Smiling happily again (PLEASE! Her smile is SO annoying), she stood up and was just about to take a step when …. suddenly a freak falling cow killed her!!! =^.^= The gundam boys all burst out of closets around the room and rejoiced."

the biggest change is probably that I actually write well now lmao. and don't character bash. and don't throw author's notes and emoticons in the middle of fics, and have learned to format better, and, and…

17. In your opinion, what’s your most overrated fic?

oh god. let me hide before I answer this. hands down, it's shadows growing. like let me be clear, it's not bad by any means. I'm still fond of it. but I did not have a clear plan when I started writing it, and I really feel like that shows. it was not meant to be a fix-it fic. it was not meant to be a longer fic. it was not meant to be much of anything, tbh. I saw the prompt on the kink meme and the prologue literally started writing itself in my head and I was like "nah idk what I'd do with that" and I scrolled past, but I couldn't focus on reading other prompts and so I went back and just started typing the fic in a reply to the prompt. honestly I figured I'd write whatever I could and then when I left it unfinished, no one would know because I was anon and I had like one fic posted on ao3 for ffxv at the time and I was used to being a complete fandom nobody. the fact that shadows growing got me even somewhat noticed was unexpected and I was not prepared gdjskgjdskl

it definitely affected the fic because once the readers started picking up it made me feel suuuuper stressed and I was so afraid to stray too far from canon because I thought people would hate that??? for some reason??? no there's logic there. I was just overwhelmed. and I do get why people love it, because the whump and the friendship between the boys is really good. but I cannot help but look at it and remember how out of my depth I felt at the time and wish that I had been brave enough to diverge more from canon and smart enough to come up with a better ending. I still suspect there were quite a few people who felt let down by the ending and that's fair honestly. anyways, yeah, it's a good fic and I'm fond of it and most of the attention and the recs it got were in the first couple years of the game being out and I don't begrudge it being my most popular fic, I just. have better ones now I feel like gjsdgjskgsj but maybe not ones as many people would want to read. which is fine with me tbh.

18. What’s your most underrated fic?

the gladio oneshot in my "fayth's daddy issues week" series! (I wrote all those fics so back to back that I can't remember the titles for any of them whoops.) I adore that fic and it got so little attention compared to most of the other fics in that week, or my fics overall tbh. the only one that got even less was the one about iris 🤣 but I don't care much for the iris one either, even though I think it has some stellar banter between the boys and cute/funny prompto/gladio moments. I really love the gladio one though, because it was fun to revisit gladio's pov in a fic and I got to develop a bit of backstory for him that's been evolving into headcanon and there's a good chunk of ignis and gladio friendship that was the precursor to all their friendship in monsters, plus I got to make gladio cry, so. I love it <3

26. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

characterisation, for sure. it's the one thing I agonise over and actually worry about what readers might think at times, especially as I get further away from having played the game to keep it fresh in my mind. so anyone commenting that it feels right makes me roll around on my bed in glee. the other aspect I equally enjoy is people commenting on the emotions. like, that the ones I wrote the characters having feel real/deep, that it made the reader feel them too, etc. stuff like that. cos the emotions are literally why I write fic lol.

29. Does the division of your writing across fandoms line up with your reading? What’s the biggest discrepancy?

I am dumb and am struggling to understand what this question is asking, tbh. is it like, do I write for as many fandoms as I read, or something? because fuck no in that case, haha. the only fandoms I've done major writing for (more than one or two fics) are gundam wing, digimon adventure, final fantasy x, and final fantasy xv. and I've read for something like 100 fandoms, idk. at one point I had a list but I stopped keeping track eventually.

31. Who’s the one character you’ve just never managed to get perfectly right?

well… I didn't really understand the concept of characterisation for fanfic until a little before I started writing for ffx. so uh, it's kinda non-existent in my gdw and digimon fics. but once I actively started trying for it… honestly maybe just yuna from final fantsy x. I had some things featuring her meant to be longer fics that were set during the game (most of my posted stuff is set pre-canon, with no yuna in sight) but I never finished and/or posted them because I always felt shaky on yuna's characterisation. I don't think I've majorly struggled with anyone in ffxv to the point that I've felt too dissatisfied with characterisation to post. but at the same time I'm sure none of them are actually perfectly right xD but they FEEL more or less right to me, which is all I care about.

32. Who’s the one character who shines without you even trying?

noct. I mean. he's my blorbo for a reason xD my beloved, I relate to him so much and the rest of it I just project lololol. I make a point to not actually just write myself as noct, cos I personally ain't about that, but it feels very easy to write him without needing to think too deeply about his thoughts/feelings/reactions most of the time. they feel instinctual to me, even when it's something that would differ from my own thoughts/feelings/reactions if I was in a similar situation.

50. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

YES and the answer to this question is one of the reasons antis/purity culture upsets me so fucking much. it's a personal/sensitive answer though so skip if you don't want to read that xD but. reading rape/sexual abuse & aftermath fics as a teenager is what helped me to understand that, even though there was no outright rape happening, I was still being abused. seeing my favourite characters have the courage to tell someone about their abuse and get help is what encouraged me to tell one of my friends during an AIM conversation late one night when I was sixteen, and she convinced me to tell my therapist at my next appointment, who then told my mom, and yeah let's just say that was a very significant and eventually positive impact (it was a rocky road) on my life. if none of that had happened I genuinely think the CSA would have continued escalating into eventual rape. so thank FUCK for fanfic and I seethe with rage every time some shitfuck anti tries to claim there's no good to be found in such fics. plus in general it just helps with my mental health and I've made plenty of friends through fic over the years, even if they come and go I'm still grateful to have known them for that time, and writing fic is the one thing that gives life any meaning for me, etc. so yeah I'd say at least 99% positive.

and now, I will add a few to answer, because you said I could lmao

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

it is a toss-up between horizon road, an ffx fic featuring a toxic, fucked up relationship between tidus and auron that I still really love, or endless skies, a really self-indulgent digimon fic. they're both old at this point, horizon road I started in 2005, and endless skies was in 2016. horizon road suffers from me having no solid ideas for it beyond the three chapters I wrote, and endless skies is painfully fully outlined, but it was such a hard, research-intensive fic to write for a number of reasons, and now looking at it also just reminds me of an ex-friend who I feel very negative towards (because I talked to them a lot while plotting/writing and they even wrote some of the smut scenes for me, though I've since removed those) and even if I wasn't still deeply entrenched in ffxv, I don't think I could bring myself to ever work on it again :/ which sucks because I did adore it very much.

35. Have you ever written a ship into a fic without meaning to?

…okay, I think anyone who has read shadows growing and then has also read or even looked at my ignoct fics knows that the ignoct is very much present in shadows growing gjdskgjsk as much as I will swear up and down it's platonic, and people certainly can take it that way if they want, like. come on. it's there. at a point, it very much was intentional. BUT. it did start out accidental. the og prompt asked for either gen or OT4 and I don't ship OT4 so I was gonna do gen but noct and ignis kept blurring the lines when I started writing scenes with them gdsjkgdjkl aaaaand actually I didn't start monsters with the intention of it being ignoct either. (the ignoct bits in the first chapter I actually added in a rewrite of that chapter lmao.) nor the tiny little epilogue in heavy is the burden that nudges into hinting at ignoct territory. fuck, even the ignoct in my very first ffxv wasn't meant to be so overt as it was gjdsklgjks there's also tiny hints of it in some of my fayth's daddy issues week fics (not counting the one that's deliberately and stated to be ignoct).

…actually now that I'm writing this I'm realising very little of my ignoct has been deliberately planned at the start 😂 the sequel to shadows growing, grey skies, was planned, at least xD the promptio that shows up towards the end of the fic was an accident though gjsdkgljslk it just. happened??? I didn't even LIKE promptio when I started writing that fic. huh. maybe accidental shipping is just my thing in writing ffxv fics.

40. Do you feel like you put out enough content?

wanted to answer this one, because, I'm NOT talking in terms of other people here. I don't mean to sound dismissive or ungrateful, because I do appreciate the people who read my fics, it makes me happy, but like. it's not why I write OR post. I'm not "producing content" for people; if someone is unhappy with me for not posting more fics, that's their problem. but in terms of myself… yeah, I do wish I had more to post. not because I feel like I've got some kind of arbitrary quota to meet. like, quite frankly, I have over a million words of fic posted on ao3, and given that I have a single unposted fic that's over 600K alone, I'm positive I have at least 2mil total words written. it's just that I wish I could write more consistently/frequently? I feel like I never write as much as I want to, and I know a lot of it is because of my worsening health, so maybe that's why I just feel so frustrated and dissatisfied with my output, but man, sometimes I look at my number of posted works on ao3 and feel like it's such a low number for how long I've been writing ): both for ffxv specifically and for all my fics total. I know it's silly, but the feeling persists nonetheless.

thank you again for the ask!! I feel happy getting to answer questions and ramble about my fics :D and it was really fun to think about my answers and realise a thing or two haha.

[whumpzone]

Not sure if that’s something you’d do, but can we see the latest vampire-au chapter from Col’s perspective? please? <3

please enjoy!

(masterpost)

CW pet whump, vampire whump, dehumanisation, thoughts about deserving to die

-

Pet was still figuring out what exactly he was to this Master. The demands he was given didn’t line up with the soaring reward of daily feedings, and there was no threat anywhere in the transaction. Pet obeyed and he was rewarded, surplus to requirement.

This morning, all he had to do was stand. If he didn’t know better, he would question his Master’s judgement. Pet had taken enormous amounts of pain to reduce him down to his knees, and of course he now knew he needed it all, and he’d take it all again tenfold to keep being good- but Master wanted to undo it.

Even worse, Pet was taller. He knew he would be before he even stood up. His legs unfolded like a stiff book, taking him up and up, and surely Master didn’t intend for his Pet to literally look down at him?

His head swam with new pain and the crushing confusion of it all. Master said something about furniture, and Pet should have heard but didn’t, and he had learnt that there was no excuse, not with his crystal clear hearing. Pain shouldn’t cloud it- only disobedience clouded it. He nodded, tried to look more alert, and then Master mentioned breakfast, and coming downstairs, and Pet was left to grapple with the fact he was still being fed.

He climbed into the chair again. It was easier to sit from a standing position, as opposed to crawling and then pulling himself up. He still didn’t know the appropriate way to sit, so he folded his knees against his chest. It was the smallest he could make himself, and it protected his vital organs. Probably an old human instinct still blinking out an occasional signal.

Master had his back to him as he prepared the blood, leaving Pet to look around. Master’s house was very handsome, he thought. There was something elegant about how he had arranged his personality and all his material interests in such an appealing way. It was tidy, but it wasn’t: the clutter was deliberate, so much so as to make Pet second guess if it was really clutter at all.

One thing that certainly was missing from Master’s home was any identifiable vampire security. The curtains, currently closed, could only be opened by grabbing and pulling. A longer string would mean he could quickly pull them apart even from a distance. Pet remembered the system the training facility had, when he caught a glimpse of his handlers’ common room. A string every metre or so, just in case.

There was no silver, either, aside from a small amount in the cutlery draw. His handlers had so much that the smell had made Pet’s nose sting.

Whatever Master’s game was here, Pet had yet to catch on, and that was bad news.

He was distracted from his worrying by the bowl of blood Master set down in front of him. He restrained himself like a good pet, glancing at Master only once, waiting for permission. When Master nodded, Pet let his low vampire urge take over. The blood was funny-tasting, not that he would dare complain. It slid down his throat and filled him up. What else could Pet possibly want? And what could he possibly give to his owner as thanks?

He had licked the bowl clean like a mongrel, but at least Master would know he was grateful. Pet had returned to the fog of his thoughts, teasing out every word, every hint, trying to find his purpose, and that was when Master’s arm appeared in the present, so startling and so close to his face that Pet had reacted before he even knew what he was doing.

He felt his jaw snap shut, and by then it was too late. His world went into slow motion as he realised what he had just done. Before the bowl even hit the floor, dropped by his horrified owner, Pet knew there was no coming back from this.

“No, don’t!” Master gasped, backing away in fear until his body hit the kitchen counter, shielding his face with his arms. “Don’t, please, I’ll turn!”

Pet’s thoughts were going into overdrive. Master was going to kill him, and it was a fact that filled him with certainty and terror. What could he do? What could he do?

Master was good to him. He was generous, softly-spoken, patient. Pet didn’t want to scare him, never, and certainly not any more after what he had just done. He could move towards his owner with that unnatural speed, and reach for the knife himself to get it over with. Press it into Master’s hand and tilt his head back, as if he were the human about to be butchered and Master the vampire about to indulge. But Pet wouldn’t scare Master, who was already shaking. They locked eyes, and Pet was sure he looked wild. Untameable just like the handlers had always said.

A second passed, then another. With some effort, Master lowered his trembling hands and used them to brace against the countertop instead. Pet could hear his heartbeat pounding.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, unsteadily. “I promise- I’m going to feed you, okay? I’m going to feed you every day, and it won’t come with a price. It isn’t going to be like your old life. Even if you can’t trust me yet, I need you to believe me.”

Pet listened intently, the pit of despair in his guts only widening, sucking more of him in. Why was Master bargaining with him? Why was he leaning away from his initial terror, trying to calm himself down, when he should lean in, let it swell into justified anger. And why on earth was he using the words every day, as if Pet had a future after what he had just done?

Pet needed to die. He needed to. He was dangerous. He had tried so hard to be good and it had failed. The first fright he got and his mouth became a weapon again.

Sure, he hadn’t aimed for Master’s skin, but just clamping his teeth down was bad enough. Not least right next to his wrist, for goodness sake.

The despair was now sorrow, self-hatred, regret, anger, and mostly fear. Pet didn’t know why he wanted to live so badly, all he knew was that he did. Desperately. But he had never been allowed wants, and this was just another one he wouldn’t get.

Master waited a few more seconds. His heartbeat was beginning to slow again. “You stopped yourself. Well d… thank you. I’m pleased. I hope you’re pleased too.”

Yes, yes of course, yes Master I would never want to hurt you I’m sorry all I’m good for is being your pet and I can’t even do that-

“Was it because I moved the bowl away? And my wrist was so near?”

Pet had been asked a direct question, and shook his head truthfully. Good dogs didn’t get protective over their food, and Pet had been beaten for hours at a time for even looking at a human’s wrist.

He wanted to apologise. He was beyond begging for Master to show mercy, he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere. He just wanted to apologise.

“Then… what? Can you show me?”

Pet stayed rigid, uncertain. Any wrong move could be his last.

“You can move. You’re allowed.”

Pet couldn’t refuse, although he was afraid of doing anything that could be seen as an accusation. He clumsily feigned a slap.

“No, I promise, I would never hit you. I was just cleaning away the bowl. Next time, you could put it with the dirty dishes yourself?”

Pet tried to find any evidence of the joke on Master’s face, but there was nothing. He didn’t understand, and Master kept on speaking, drawing his pet further into this mindgame.

“If I gave you a piece of paper, could you write a message, perhaps? We could use that in the future.”

Pet could understand that, at least, and ignored Master’s mention of a future. His orange eyes flicked down to his own hands. The handlers had focused hard on them, and rightly so. How easily Pet could snap a neck. Writing, though, was something he hadn’t done in years. His handwriting had once been a smoothly flowing river, but he was sure there would be none of that style left now.

Master gave him time, picking up the bowl (Pet should have done that) and washing it slowly in the sink (Pet should have done that too). God, how utterly worthless he felt. He couldn’t hold back as all his amplified emotions spilled over the page. He was just utterly desperate to apologise, and here was an opportunity to.

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry your pet is so sorry Master Master I won’t do it again I never meant to I’m a good boy I’m good now I promise I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry

He went overboard and even wrote I deserve to die, then tried to scribble it out. He didn’t want that at all, and if Master intended to show him some mercy, then he wouldn’t fuck it up by being ungrateful.

The awful tension of the whole scene finally became too much for him and he dropped the pen, running upstairs far quicker than any human could ever hope to. He fled into the bedroom Master let him stay in and forced himself under the bed.

There was only one thing Pet knew for sure.

If Master didn’t kill him, his brother would.

And that was the only conclusion Pet reached all night, no matter which path he went down.

-

tagging: @whumpsday @whumpycries @hollowgast1 @pigeonwhumps @cupcakes-and-pain @extemporary-whump @unicornscotty @d-cs

@octopus-reactivated i know you requested Col's POV too!

[we-were-so-beautiful]

3. taxi

oh man, this one FOUGHT me y'all. so much cutting and pasting. I am not even kidding when I say that everything that happens in this chapter was supposed to be part of the last one, and I gave up and cut that one off early because I was sick of trying to finish this part. and now this is my longest chapter yet. you know, out of all three of them. at 1.3k. lol. I am not, how do you say, fast. but I was hoping I'd be able to get a chapter written over christmas, and I'm really proud of myself for finishing it!

Content warnings for this chapter: box boy universe, pet whump, dehumanization, cage mention, rampant classism. As always, please tell me if there's anything else I need to tag.

[masterlist] [chapter two] [chapter four]

“Okay I know they’re supposed to be expensive but what can you possibly be charging this much money for.”

“Adoption fees are to offset the cost of room, board and medical care while at the facility,” the employee parrots, without so much as the decency to look ashamed. 

“He does not look like he has had literally any of those things while he’s been here. Or possibly in his entire life.”

“Ma’am, if you cannot afford the adoption fee, then you cannot adopt a Pet.”

“Oh, I can afford it,” Vanessa growls, handing over a very shiny credit card before her mouth can get her in enough trouble to stop the employee from taking it. She bites her lip until she tastes copper to keep from saying, I’d just rather put it towards something that isn’t blatantly and obviously going right back into Worldwide Rehabilitative Un-fucking-limited’s pockets despite the fact that this is supposed to be a goddamn government facility.

Harm reduction, she reminds herself. Paying extortionate fees to kill shelters is still harm reduction. It’s the unsavory truth, but it doesn’t make the blood in her mouth taste any sweeter.

“Sign here,” the woman says, handing her credit card back along with a digital pad and stylus, and Vanessa cracks her wrist before she takes them. It’s sore and snapping like a glowstick from the mountain of paperwork she’s already been made to sign since the employee unceremoniously hauled the man on the floor behind her down from his double-high-stacked wire crate. She can’t decide whether to consider it an obscenely large amount, or an obscenely little one for all that it represents.

She can’t think about it too hard. Can’t draw too much of her own attention to the fact that she’s really doing this, or she might just run screaming back out into the grey-tinted autumn afternoon, and then where would this guy be? 

She scribbles her name on the touchpad, and just like that… it’s done.

—

“Don’t forget your leash and collar,” the employee reminds her.

“I won’t be using those,” Vanessa says, with all the imperious rich-lady self-assurance she can fake.

“You will if you don’t want to be liable for civil and/or criminal penalties up to and including the permanent forfeiture of your right to Pet ownership,” the woman drones like she’s rattling it off from a handbook, and nobody has the right to own a person but even Vanessa knows better than to argue the system with someone who literally works for it.

She grinds her teeth as she takes the lengths of bulky blue nylon from the woman. She crouches beside the man, who’s bent himself into an odd kneeling fetal position on the cold tile floor. “Sorry,” she whispers as she slides the coarse material around his throat, feeling his pulse beat harsh and rapid underneath. She hopes she’s being quiet enough that the employee won’t hear her talking to him like a person—because he is a person, goddamnit—but she knows better than to trust her own volume. Best if she can get the fuck out of here with him now, before she makes a mistake.

She really doesn’t want to lead this dude crawling down the street like an animal. Doesn’t want to imagine what people will think. But she asks him, “Can you stand?”, and he makes a sound like a choking dog, and so much for both their dignity, she fucking guesses.

“Ugh, fine, whatever, just… come on.”

—

Fuck standing, the guy can barely support himself on all fours. His joints threaten to buckle at every step as Vanessa urges him out onto the chilly sidewalk. Coat of dirt aside, he’s got nothing on him but a pair of boxers as filthy as he is and that godawful blue collar, and when his bare skin meets the frigid pavement his body clenches so hard she can practically hear his teeth slam shut.

She looks at the unwashed man before her, shivering hard enough to rattle his bones in the cold October air. Looks at her thick brown coat. Ugh, she likes this coat, the lining is stitched in in all the right places to keep the texture of the shell from making her want to climb out of her own skin and no amount of dry cleaning in the world is going to convince her to put it on again once it touches… whatever the fuck is all goddamn over this guy. She sighs and shrugs it off.

Fuck fuck fuck it’s cold. She’s shivering herself in just plain blue jeans and her second favorite Cure t-shirt. But a million “if you’re cold, they’re cold!” memes flash through her mind and she grumbles aggrievedly and drapes the wool coat over his massive, gaunt frame. This dude has like a foot on her standing, she remembers when the lapels will barely pull around his shoulders. She’s gonna have to shake Austin down for clothes.

God, it feels beyond fucked up to have a person on a leash, and it doesn’t help that the cheap blue nylon feels plasticky in her hand and she hates the texture. She can’t imagine how much worse it must feel around the throat of the shuddering man before her. She’s taking the damn thing off him as soon as she gets him home, she’ll get him a better one if Roselle can’t find her a loophole and she absolutely fucking has to, but when the fifth or sixth cab passes her by without even slowing down she starts to wonder how the hell she’s going to get him home at all.

—

“You want to go to the corner,” the employee says boredly, not so much as looking up from her newspaper when Vanessa shoulders her way back through the door.

“You what?” Vanessa echoes.

“The corner. Better if you go another block or two, even. Cabs don’t stop in front of the shelter.”

Of course they don’t, Vanessa thinks. 

She hipchecks the door back open and returns to the stupid goddamn hitching post they so conveniently provide along the front wall of the shelter, where she’s awkwardly strung up the loop of the stupid blue leash. “Hey, uh, dude? I’m gonna go up the street a bit, okay, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

He barely acknowledges that he’s heard her, curled back up under her coat in that same odd position with his forearms tucked into his chest. “...not that you would,” she adds dubiously, before power-walking away to the next block.

Vanessa hisses through her teeth in the bleak grey air and rubs at her goosebump-riddled arms, but true to the employee’s disaffected word it’s only a matter of minutes this time before a cab driver catches her wave and pulls over. “Thanks,” she says as she tumbles in. “I’m going back to the Heights. Need to pick someone up first, though. Just on the next block.”

The driver looks skeptical, but he rolls down the quiet street all the same—until he clocks the shelter just as Vanessa tells him to stop. “No. Nuh uh. No way. I don’t let Pets in my cab.”

“I’ll double your fare. Up front.”

The driver shakes his head, staring revulsed in the direction of the hitching post. “Not worth all that crud on my seats.” Oh. Great. He’s seen him.

“What if I cover the seats. Newspaper.”

The driver sizes her up with a calculating gaze, one elbow propped on the back of his seat, and somewhere in the middle of wanting to punch him for looking at her she finds herself wishing for once that she’d dressed… richer. Finally, he grouses, “Triple fare. And the meter’s runnin’ while ya cover ‘em.”

“Fine,” Vanessa spits, and sprints out with the door wide open before he has time to change his mind.

She barges into the shelter one last time, hopefully the last fucking time in her life if she has any say in it. Leaning over the counter, with a grin that’s probably a little too smug for her to be proud of, she snatches the newspaper directly out of the apathetic employee’s complicit hands.

-

taglist: @maracujatangerine @pigeonwhumps @tragedyinblue @marchtothefuckingsea @octopus-reactivated @briars7

[bitterrobin]

21, 23, 10 for choose vioelnce

10. worst part of fanon -- see I could go specific on this and say: Tim gets whumped so hard that I barely see anything positive of his canon in fics and everyone else around him are made out to suck, and Jason gets put on a pedestal because he serves as an easy counter to Bruce's philosophy and while thats cool he also gets whumped to hell and back. I could say Dick gets utterly fucked over by other fans because they're so willing to overlook his canon traumas in service of emotional/narrative fodder for their favs and Damian will never get to grow up in fandom's eyes because they still think of him as a spoiled psychopath who should've never been born. I could rant about how female characters don't exist to them because misogyny and a fixation on male trauma and that Bruce is never understood. He's either an unnaturally good and kind father who advocates for therapy and acts like a robot reading a parenting manual OR he's the worst abuser and manipulator, so bad that if a kid says they love him they're actually getting Stockholm'd. But all of these claims fall under the same umbrellas. The truth is the worst part of fanon does this: it obsesses over labels and trauma and the right side of an argument like it'll get their favorite character a good grade in "most traumatized abused child vigilante in DC" AND so actively refuses to engage in the source material that those characters they work so hard for aren't even the comic character anymore. Every time I read a fic or a meta that falls under these, I get really confused. That isn't Tim Drake thats Timely Rake. That isn't Dick Grayson thats Ricky Whitedaughter. That isn't Jason Todd thats Jackson Rod. That isn't Damian Wayne thats literally Damien from The Omen. That isn't Bruce Wayne thats his evil twin Brick Water. Unfortunately theres no fixing it because taste and interpretations are subjective, and I think the entire fandom would go down in flames kicking and screaming before we ever tweak popular fanon ideas to be a little more accurate.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped -- i'm going to get crucified for this but everyone slotting into a perfect family dynamic where everyone loves each other and if anything bad happens, a sibling will fix it for them. I'm not exempt from enjoying fluff fics, its how I got into the actual fic/tumblr side of the fandom, but all of these characters have such a depth of history to them that fluff starts to feel like a disservice imo. Bruce and Dick's relationship can be complicated, they aren't just father and son - they're brothers and best friends and partners and (unhealthily) emotionally depend on each other. Bruce and Jason's relationship can be about the father and son who drift apart and maybe never reconcile, they don't have to be constantly around each other and "forgive" each other when all they do is disagree and thats ok. Bruce and Tim can be a complicated tale of hero worship, mentor/mentee and father and son dynamics because for so long Bruce wasn't Tim's dad and that was fine. Thats what makes it more interesting to explore later when Jack dies and Tim gets adopted. Bruce and Cassandra can be dark mirrors to each other, their dynamic as shown in Batgirl was not entirely wholesome. Bruce has expectations of Cassandra he doesn't have of anyone else because he sees himself in her. (Also Barbara is Cassandra's mother figure not just her older sister). Bruce and Damian can be loving and they can be constantly drifting apart and getting close. Canonically, Bruce had little interest and time in being Damian's father the first years of Damian being a character. Thats ok, and we can explore Damian's feelings with that without cramming Dick into the father slot. Dick doesn't have to be Damian's dad, they can be brothers and partners. All of these people existed in different facets of time and space. They shouldn't all be living under the same roof like the Brady Bunch, its just too much. No one has to fill the father role when Bruce isn't, and Bruce is not a perfect nuclear father either. None of the siblings are perfect children or siblings either. None of them are even normal, and I think rivalries and grudges and hatred and jealousy and clashing parenthoods and perspectives are always more interesting than everyone being cardboard cutouts that spout therapy-speak at the right time.

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to -- im not really a shipping type person, tbh. if there are ships I hate because they do a disservice to both characters in that ship (jayroy, jaykory, damijon, damirae) then I'd definitely say I haven't come around to them. I guess I will say I actively hate on damijon less than I used to and come to accept it as an inevitability, but the same cannot be said for specific kinds of damijon fans.

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

whats something youve watched/read recently that had a nice whumpy moment in it?

Hmmmmm... Besides the obvious answer of fanfiction, I would have to say the My Happy Marriage anime on Netflix! (It's also a manga!! And a live-action movie!)

It's very much like a Cinderella story, but with the twist of arranged marriage and paranormal themes. Set in 19th-century Meiji Restoration era Japan. Miyo Saimori, the female lead, grew up in an abusive and neglectful household. In spite of being the eldest daughter and being of Noble status, she's treated as lesser than a servant in her own home. Her father arranges for her to be married off to a commander in the military, Kiyoka Kudo, who is widely rumored to be cruel and has not kept a fiancée for more than three days. Miyo learns that she's not a magnet for hatred, and Kiyoka gradually learns that he can bring happiness to others.

This anime is probably my favorite because it has soft, comfy vibes, yet still manages to have some nice whump material too!

Spoilers ahead!

If you don't mind spoilers, read on!

Some notable whump moments:

Miyo's general demeanor - she's timid and meek and fearful of nearly every person she meets. Even after getting to know them, she's still reserved and uncertain.

Repetitive, instinctive, fearful apologies galore.

There's legit a whole kidnapping arc. Yes, seriously.

There's "light" torture during this. I don't really care for torture sequences, but it was written well enough that I didn't feel the ick. (also, kudos to Kaya's voice actress for the infuriated scream. If you watch it, you'll know what I mean)

Bedside vigils, my beloved

Recovery after the kidnapping and torture (too brief for my taste, but still appreciated)

Sleep deprivation

Fainting~

A bullet grazes Kiyoka's arm in a duel for custody of Miyo. Yes, a literal duel.

Kiyoka falls into a coma from an accident during battle.

Also just an overall feel of recovery. For the first time, Miyo's getting to experience so many soft, gentle, warm, happy things that she should have already been familiar with.

[lilliths-httyd-blog]

Whump Ahoy!

Okay, so. Imagine Princess Sofia helping out Cedric in his workshop one day, working on a potion together when something just... explodes in Cedric's hand. Completely out of nowhere, despite much care in handling, some beaker or jar or pipette or something filled with a dangerous chemical ingredient shatters with force, piercing through his glove, embedding glass into his skin and spilling the ingredient all over his hand.

Imagine Cedric's initial reaction to that: the shock after the explosion, the instinct to make sure that Sofia is safe... and then the pain kicks in. He tries to suppress his reaction, not wanting Sofia to be frightened in this situation, but it doesn't work. The pain is incredible. I'm sure you can imagine the agonized sounds that leave his mouth, the tears that suddenly begin to blur his vision. He panics. He has to get the chemical off of his hand and remove the glass before his ability to think and function properly are overwhelmed by the pain. There's horror as he grasps at his wand only for the counter-spell to not leave his mouth properly - he's stumbling over his words and then quickly forgets how to speak.

Imagine Sofia's reaction to this. Imagine her desperation to make sure Cedric is okay, and then her determination to help him upon realising that he is absolutely not. She tries her best to comfort him whilst also leaping into action, scouring books for the right healing spell; a task that Cedric cannot help her with. Seconds feel like an eternity as Cedric keels over, whimpering and spasming, trying his best to utter the right spell only for it to come out as a wail instead. He'd covered in blood and sweat and the skin on his hand is beginning to bubble and contort like wax under the mangled glove. Finally, the pain begins to die down slightly as the pain receptors in Cedric's hand are burned functionless. It is only when that fiery numbness takes over that Cedric is able to haphazardly cry out the counter-spell and slowly reverse some of the damage.

Imagine then a teary-eyed Sofia tenderly bandaging the mangled hand of the now shivering Cedric. Every now and then he stammers out a spell or two in an attempt to heal his injury, but oh, the regrowth of nerves and the reversal of such severe skin damage hurts. It will take a while for him to be able to heal this wound. He's lucky to be such a learned sorcerer or he likely wouldn't be able to heal it at all. He thanks his lucky stars that it was him to receive such injury and not Sofia: this is the reason why he doesn't allow her to handle such dangerous materials.

Imagine Sofia helping Cedric clean up after the incident, sponging the blood from his sleeves and sweeping up the glass. No nine year old should be handling such sharp objects or cleaning literal bloodstains, but Cedric can't do it with his munted hand for the life of him. Anyway, Sofia insisted that he try to just recover and conserve his energy - cleaning via magic would do him no good and he's already feeling dizzy and out of sorts. He's cleared away the chemical spillage - he insisted on doing so before Sofia went even remotely close to the scene of the accident. Visions of Sofia being the one to be injured instead haunt his dreams.

Imagine a few days later, Cedric's hand is relatively healed but still bandaged, aching and tingling like pins stabbing his skin. He hides the wound away under the sleeve of his robe. Nobody has really caught onto the fact that he's been wounded yet. Sofia and Cedric (Cedric especially) both know that it would've been better to inform Roland or Baileywick or anyone about what had happened, but they have an unspoken agreement to refrain from doing so. Sofia is petrified that Roland will ban her from practicing any more sorcery with Cedric, and Cedric is utterly ashamed that he allowed such a thing to happen in his workshop (and with Sofia present, no less). It's their little secret - that is, of course, until Baileywick notices that one of Cedric's arms is out of commission and interrogates him about it.

[sardonic-sprite]

Its November fucking first, Halloween is over, the ground is covered in snow and I've been rehearsing for the christmas show for a month so there will no longer be any stopping me

Ok so best laid plans of mice and men yadda yadda I did not in fact complete whumptober in time, but fear not, I'm still filling all the requests, I've got a lot written, just be patient and it'll all come hopefully by the end of November.

Related to that, I promised that since whumptober was to be all batman related, I'd run something with similar rules for all the non-batman fandoms I'm in when I had time to refamiliarize with those source materials. Originally I said December, with Winter Whumpterland in mind, but as much as I love everyone's ideas, I need to return to my own creative roots for a while after this batch, so instead I'm looking at taking those requests for either Januwhump or Trop-A-Thon (run by amonthofwhump), based on my school schedule. Januwhump would have 15 days of prompts + Alt, Trop-A-Thon is one week with 4 optional prompts per day. If y'all want something more like whumptober, 30 days with a theme and 3 options per day, you'll have to wait for June of Doom. Please drop me a line here or on AYW 31 to say which option you'd like best

Between now and whenever that is however comes my favorite holiday (like literally 10% of my fics are christmas themed... oops) along with HOLIDAY BREAK FROM SCHOOL WHICH MEANS WRITING TIME! Now I usually dabble in some amount of Winter Whumpterland bc I can't help myself when it comes to hurting the batboys it seems, BUT.

Last year (and the year before, only I chickened out lol) I sort of tried to make my own start up event for Christmas called Christmas Countdown Playlist, because music is my favorite thing about my favorite holiday. This time I wanted to reach out (since I... know people? Am tumblring?) And ask whether anyone would be interested in me making an annual Thing of this event. The gist would be

12 days of prompts all based on christmas songs or lyrics

Still open to any faith or nonfaith, just that xmas songs are what inspire my generalized prompts

Fluff whump angst anything goes

Any type of created content

Open from Thanksgiving to new years to participate as much or as little as desired

Thanks so much for reading and I hope to hear from ya soon!

[stackthedeck]

Don’t be shy post your fanfic red flags to tumblr

I swear y'all want me dead, I'm not scared of the tiktok teens but the tumblr users will kill me over this

when I say red flags, I mean squicks, I mean things in marvel fanfics that tell me the author is more concerned with fanon than they are with the source material which is just something I don't want to read

Mommy friend Natasha— If it's an avengers fic and Natasha is there to sigh and the boys and tell them to talk care of themselves, make the move on the boy, or just mother them I hate it. I need more than one woman in a fic and I need them to pass the Bechdel test and be more than "the one with the brain cell"

damsel in distress Peter Parker— I need a damn good reason Peter doesn't use his super strength or super genius to escape a kidnapping, he's a fucking superhero who can save himself. This isn't to say I don't like Peter Parker whump, but I need some explanation or it seems like he's forgotten he's super human

the Deadpool thought boxes— most fic authors are writing them because they're saw them in another fic not because they're read them in the comics and it fucking shows!

No murder Avengers—Explain to me why your picture of Steve Rogers wouldn't kill a nazi in a heartbeat?? Quickly!

writing out characters of color—self-explanatory. How can you write a post winter soldier fic without Sam Wilson? Where is Ned in your mcu Peter fic? Why did you make Peter Parker act like the mcu version in every way but you made MJ into a white Mary Jane? Why is there always a convenient mission that the characters of color are sent off to deal with?? Y'all are not hiding your bigotry well

"pretty" Wade Wilson—I don't care if it's a no powers au or if you're using an image replicator, keep the scars! The scars are pretty and I don't want to read a fic that disagrees

Super Family—my beef with this trope pre-dates the mcu Spider-Man, this shit infected tasm fandom after the Avengers came out. The civil war being the stony divorce arc and Peter being the traumatized child of said divorce joke was funny. But it was only a joke. I don't care what adult "adopts" Peter, Peter already has a loving home and Aunt May is doing a fantastic job raising him. It's even worse when Peter was adopted young or the bio child of one of the heroes because it completely robs his story of the importance and impact of Aunt May and Uncle Ben. I hate it so fucking much

"world on fire" in daredevil fic— it's a fucking metaphor! It's a good metaphor you can write into a fic, but if you make it literal so that Matt is "seeing" objects but like as fire oh my god no! He has not light response in his eyes, he's moving through the world through sound and touch like blind people do, his powers just grant him a great degree of precision. Y'all can't handle the idea of disabled people as competent capable adults

Any fic that makes a rational cool level headed woman into a raging bitch—we get it you have no friends and have internalized the not like other girls mindset, but don't make it my fucking problem

[runawaymun]

Hi so I just binged your fics and adore them, I love “kids get sane adults and overcome trauma and feel safe” fics

And I was wondering if it was inspired by any other fics you could recommend? Especially Tolkien

aaa I'm so glad you like them! thank you!

The adoptive family trope is a trope that is incredibly near and dear to my heart and weirdly underexplored in the LOTR fandom tbqh. You'd think there would be more of it. I get this question a lot and unfortunately I must repeat that my toxic trait is that I am incredibly picky when it comes to the fics I read, and that And the Stars Shine the Same was actually started in a blind rage after scouring the internet for anything like it, and finding that most of them over-simplified the healing process or grossly mischaracterized Elrond OR turned out to be romantic in the end (but like not in a good way). So unfortunately I have very few fics I can recommend.

In terms of well-written fic that you might like if you like my work, as always, I recommend pretty much anything @jaz-the-bard has written when it comes to Elrond & kidnap fam adjacent material (and just...good fic...in general...hngg). @potatoobsessed999 (potatoesanddreams on AO3) has some really lovely genfic, and I literally cannot recommend @idrilsscribe's Under Strange Stars series enough. The Ever-Fixed Star series is an incredible set of Elrond-adjacent (but mostly Feanorian-centric) fics by @eirianerisdar that deal with themes of forgiveness, family, redemption, and healing and they remain just about some of my favorite fics of all time <3 I also will continue to endlessly rec @thatfeanorian's All the Ways to Love which is not gen, but does include just really excellent Russingon slowburn trauma recovery re: Feanor is The Worst Dad Ever and Maedhros' self-esteem is a dumpster fire, and Fingon is Best Boy (of course!).

For other fandoms I recently blitzed through I've Been Holding Back Tears (While You're Throwing Back Beers) by im_your_mom_now which is just unabashed Peter Parker AU whump with Tony being a very worried and concerned adult (trying to be a worried and concerned adoptive dad but of course it's Tony and he's emotionally constipated so he's not going to outright admit that he feels like Peter is his son which is just CHEFS KISS) It's actually incredibly well written -- like I don't normally go for Marvel anything but I just couldn't resist. It hit all my sweet spots for me and I really am a softie for Dad!Tony with Peter. <3 It's incredibly anti aunt-May though, fair warning.

Yeah that's mostly what I have for you! If any of my followers wants to chime in -- as always drop your recs on this post for anon :)

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Same anon (and anon because I'm scared), but it's my genuine belief that Hiccup should have a child with all the other dragon riders and even characters like Viggo, Dagur, Camicazi and even Eret as he's a good chief and a good chief carries on these lines 😁 ensuring the future of his island 😁

Hey, going on anon is totally valid! (Except for when it's used for hate like some users do.)

And haha, that is a good reason for loving Pregcup! Chieftains need to continue their line!

Personally, the appeal for me is that Hiccup is just so dad-shaped. (At least personality-wise) Or mom-shaped if you take a liking to the good old genderbend AU. I've also headcanoned for a long time that, out of all the Riders, he's the one who wants a family the most. (Headcanoning that Snotlout is the second most likeliest to want that.)

But also... He's the Dragon Master. And because his mother literally has this innate understanding of dragons despite not even raising Hiccup herself, I just also like to headcanon that it's in his blood, which means I like to headcanon that any kids coming from him would be born with that innate ability, too. Which means that, if anyone who is familiar with my most reoccuring Httyd OC, Tiny, has that as well.

It's very good material for all sorts of fic ideas, both whump and otherwise. I should delve in it more!

As for the Viggo, Eret, Dagur and the Dragon Riders things, literally why I've made it so that Tiny looks the most like Hiccup. So pretty much anyone can be his other dad, pretty much whoever I've decided to ship Hiccup with in a particular fic.

[syncopein3d]

Shun the Light: A Friendly Review

Introduction and Format Explanation:

I've just finished reading Shun the Light by @thoughtsonhurtandcomfort. In the communities where I spend most of my time here on Tumblr, I see occasional recommendations but nothing I would call a review, so I thought I'd go into a little more detail about why I enjoyed this story. I'm still a relative newcomer here in 2024, so if I'm wrong about that, send links in the notes and I will include them here!

The reason I think a positive review might be useful to my audience is that, when people praise a story, they seldom give enough detail for me to know as a reader if I will also want to read it. These are stories I liked personally, and this means that reviews will mostly be of hurt/comfort stories with happy or at least ambiguous endings.

Ambiguous here means characters may part, or may have dangling plot threads for later, but they have survived and are in some way better or recovering. Please always read authors’ trope/warning lists before taking off into their other work. I review hurt/comfort without NSFW usually, but lots of whump writers have both h/c content and NSFW, torture, pet, slave, or other subgenres of whump. I support everyone in this community, and I don’t want anyone to be mad at them or me because you dove directly from a reviewed story into something you didn’t like or were triggered by.

This doesn't mean I disliked everything I didn't review; I read a lot of stories and can't review them all. This is just for stories that are completed according to the author (something of a rare category already) and that I thought deserved special mention.

I'll attempt some light analysis, but I won't ask authors if I'm right about their intent first, so you only get my reader impressions on it. As such, I might be wrong about some or all of how I describe a story and its lore. I don't insist on death of the author once a review is up, so authors are welcome and encouraged to comment!

Summary:

A werewolf and a vampire meet under difficult circumstances and forge an unlikely bond through various injuries and incidents.

Vibes:

I will try to refrain from gushing, since the author is no doubt tired of seeing me type rows of capital A’s on the story posts themselves. This is a very sweet and pleasant hurt/comfort story. It feels warm and comfy even in the slightly gory parts. If it’s possible to write a cozy Universal Studios Horror Gothic, it’s this right here. A lot of it takes place in the same old house and its environs, increasing both the intimacy of the story and the sense of warm familiarity. This is just a delightful palate cleanser if you’ve been reading darker material lately and want to just sit back and feel better.

Characters and Setting:

The story centers on Dante and Matteo, a vampire and a werewolf who wander into each other’s lives by accident. Both are well-intentioned, both are grieving what they lost, whether recently (for Matteo) or long ago (for Dante). When misunderstandings happen, it flows reasonably out of the difference in their ages, their circumstances, and their mutual exasperating tendency to assume the other person’s emotions incorrectly. There’s some delicious angst as a result of that.

Dante is an old soul both literally and figuratively, low-energy and depressed, without rapacity of any kind. The only times he uses a vampire mind control ability are when he is helping to care for Matteo – motivating him to get up the stairs to bed, soothing him to sleep, helping him feel better. It’s almost never for his own benefit. Matteo is not a roaring monster so much as a whipped stray, used to disappointment, expecting the worst. He has a giving heart, but he can’t believe Dante would care about him in return. This doesn’t feel like he’s being stupid in a writing sense; it feels like he has been taught by bad experiences that he has no value. I thought that was handled really well. The dynamic is excellent.

As I mentioned, a lot of the story happens in and around Dante’s house, a slightly decayed mansion where the graves of his loved ones are and which, we receive the impression, he has been haunting like a ghost for some years now. Gradually, we come to see it as more of a safe haven as the story advances, the characters and their exchanges transforming the atmosphere even though the old house remains nearly unchanged. There are brief moments in the woods, in a small nearby town, but they’re not important; they hover vaguely around the place where the characters seem to belong.

Themes (Mild Spoilers):

A lot of stories with vampires in them try to work with themes of renewal. A lot of stories with werewolves in them try to work with themes of found family. Tropes aren’t inherently bad, it’s all in the execution, and it was very interesting to see those two things collide and mingle in this.

Dante needs someone to drag him out of his grave. Matteo needs someone to care and give him value. We morph from the two of them trapped in a slowly rotting antique, wounded and exhausted, to the two of them taking care of each other with more purpose and determination inside what is becoming their home. I would hope that, if the author writes a future story still set here, they would work on renovating parts of the house, as a metaphor for their ongoing dynamic; or burning the place down as a symbol of moving on from their traumas into a new life. But that’s just me writing fanfiction. The story is complete in itself, and I love it.

Final Comments and Recommendation:

This is a lovely, cozy story about two sad people treating each other’s wounds. That’s one of my favorite flavors of story, and if it is for you, too, this is absolutely for you. When I say I like whump, this right here is what leaps to my mind. For fellow loss-of-consciousness fans, Dante has a numbing venom that’s used for that purpose several times, so there’s lots of that here, too. I can hardly recommend this one wholeheartedly enough. If you like hurt and comfort at all, you really, really should give it a look.

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