#they must be hallucinations;; right right ???

[michuga]

dream encounter

you meet the man of your dreams. literally.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

warnings: swearing, 18+ content, usage of violent terms, reader is hoooornyyy

wc: ~3k

a/n: inspired by personal experience. i'm still grieving.

you stumble into a dark alleyway, lips locked with another's. coming up for air, you inspect the man practically attached to you.

tall, buff, tattooed, smooookin'. lips plumper than ripe berries and eyes brighter than stars in a pitch black night sky.

god damn.

no time to think.

you grab him by the collar and devour him anew.

you tangle your hands in his soft locks, and he impatiently gropes the flesh of your ass. sighing into the kiss, you rub against his hard bulge.

you have never been so content. truthfully, you can keep going just like this for a few hours, minimum.

"need you," you mumble.

swiftly turning you around, he pins you against the wall. you're sandwiched between the wall and his firm body, pressing against your core just right.

hot breath against your ear, he whispers behind you, "make pretty noises for me, beautiful."

with you distracted, he sneaks an arm across your waist and dips it into your panties.

right as his fingers brush your lower belly and reach where you need him most desperately,

you wake up.

and you scream.

loud.

"jesus did someone die?" your roommate busts into your room, frantic and concerned as ever. "what the hell is the matter with you?"

in silent defeat, you grab your pillow and smash it against your face.

sighing and no longer concerned for your wellbeing, she leaves your room confused but somewhat used to your antics.

rubbing your legs together, you almost cry under your covers. guess your fingers will have to do, yet again.

"you do not understand. that was my fucking soulmate."

"a guy your brain made up touches you once and he's your soulmate?"

"shut up. you literally don't get it. i am so utterly devastated i could kill someone."

"you know what really is devastating? being in a dry spell so severe your brain has to resort to making up hallucinations."

"you have 3 seconds to run before i kill you."

"the only way you'll be killing me is with your delusion. i think i'm good."

"it's not funny! i saw his face, i physically felt his hands! this was like, cosmic. otherworldly. life-changing."

"you mean panty-changing."

"you dare mock my feelings? i woke up and felt like someone ripped my heart out and stomped on it. like my other half was ripped from my hands. like we were connected in a past life. like-"

she snorts, "yeah, connected by divine pussy."

"i'm mourning. i'm mourning and you're laughing."

"mourning!!" she laughs in disbelief, "you sound like you just got dumped by casper the horny ghost."

"i swear to god-" you chase her around the apartment for a solid 15 minutes after that.

two weeks have passed since your.. very realistic dream.

you've forgotten about it, but you could feel it in your body that your brain chemistry was altered. people may think you're exaggerating, but you really mean it when you say you haven't been the same ever since.

food doesn’t taste right. music doesn’t hit the same. the sun? dimmer. the first sip of hot coffee on a chilly morning? slightly colder.

maybe your roommate was right. maybe you're simply too touch deprived.

god, this is sad.

as you finish adding the last few things on your grocery list to your cart, you turn around to head to checkout. until you accidentally bump into someone.

"sorry! sorry!" you blurt, immediately bending down to help the stranger pick up what he dropped.

"shit, no worries," he says, crouching down to help you.

and that's when you see it; his tattooed hand.

what is it with you and tattooed men? the universe must really be torturing you. this was like dangling candy in front of a child then snatching it away, knowing you were never gonna give it to them in the first place. cruel.

"you really don't have to, it's fine," he adds.

wait.. that voice? sounds familiar?

you slowly, slowly stand up, heart pounding in your chest, finally meeting the stranger's eyes.

your soul leaves your body. your eyes damn near pop out of their sockets.

you stand there silent, like a damn fool. smiling awkwardly, he takes his stuff and walks away.

you don’t move. you don’t breathe. was this… was this another hallucination? are you so horny that your brain has started projecting men into real life like some kind of thirst-induced hologram?

you slap yourself once. no, surely not.

you slap yourself again. nope. pain is real. surely you’re not that mentally unwell. right? right? you had your mental issues but you were certain none came with hallucinations.

peeking over at checkout, you see him there, bagging his items like it’s just another tuesday. then he leaves, disappearing out the automatic doors. just like that.

you’re frozen, gripping your bag of frozen blueberries like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.

he's real. this has to be some cosmic joke.

"babe, life isn't a k-drama," your roommate says, voice dripping with sarcasm as she flops onto the couch, completely dismissing your very real emotional crisis. "listen. i know how you feel. dry spells are no joke."

you facepalm.

"no, really!" she continues, undeterred. "one time i went 3 months without dick thought i started having revelations from the heavens above."

you glare at her. "cut your shit, i'm serious! he was real and he looked exactly the same as the dream. maybe slightly taller and definitely hotter, but it was him."

she raises an eyebrow, not even trying to hide her amusement. "so, let me get this straight." she leans in, finally entertaining your story for a minute.

"you mean to tell me that you experienced textbook soulmate-ism; seeing a complete stranger in a dream and then accidentally bumping into him a few weeks later? that you’ve met in a past life, or that your souls are like, intertwined in some deeply meaningful, cosmic way? a destined interaction?" she mocks as she wiggles her fingers, mimicking magic.

she wiggles her fingers dramatically, mimicking magic, and you groan so loud it echoes.

turning on your heel, you storm back toward your room. you don't know why you even bothered to begin with.

"wait, wait!" she calls after you, cackling. "you know, taehyung's not dating anyone right now. want me to send you his number?"

you ignore her, marching faster.

"ooo, since you're psychic now, can you tell me my grade on tomorrow's test? or what my mom's cooking for lunch today?" she adds, trailing behind you like an annoying toddler.

you slam the door in her face so hard the hinges rattle.

serves her right.

you are going to kill your roommate.

one, for not believing you.

and two, for dragging you to a club where taehyung conveniently happened to be, and her only informing you as you were literally walking in.

he's not bad by any means, not at all. in fact, he's got the whole package. good looks, charismatic, talented and has men and women tripping over themselves for his attention.

your point is proven when you immediately spot him speaking to three women. you're no body language expert, but five more minutes of him entertaining them and they're gonna pounce on him.

you're just.. not interested.

you had met before at one of your roommate's work outings. you chatted for a bit, shared a drink. it took you, what? an hour? maybe less, to realize that friends were all you could ever be. the chemistry just wasn't there.

you don't actually hate your roommate for it, you know she just wants you to be happy. you're just irritated because you're so horny. and the only relief you've gotten in the past two years was your recent sex dream. that one touch was enough to send you spiraling into madness. she was right, dry spells really are no joke.

after 20 minutes of forced small talk, fake smiling, and one or maybe two shots later, you excuse yourself to the bathroom; thankful for any relief from this endless and agonizing night. horny and bored out of your mind do not go well together.

in front of the mirror, you stare at your reflection. get it together.

you fix your hair, touch up your makeup, and give yourself a little pep talk.

tonight this ends. you’re not walking out of here empty-handed.

be it taehyung or literally anyone else, someone is coming home with you. no more of this pathetic nonsense. your fingers deserve a break. so do your batteries.

as you dry your hands and exit the bathroom, you almost trip. before you faceplant into the floor, firm hands grab your waist, steading you.

you sigh in relief. a broken ankle definitely meant no dick tonight. you were that desperate.

"easy there," a voice says, rich and smooth like velvet and honey. sugar, spice and everything nice.

oh, no. no. no. no.

cosmic joke? this is a full on prank.

your guy, yet again.

at this point, you're convinced you're either in a simulation or someone is filming this for a prank show. whoever was controlling your character needed to grant you some reprieve. some grace, please!

he’s smiling down at you, eyes glinting with amusement. "are you ever gonna say anything?" he teases. "so far you've just ogled me and stayed completely silent. have we met before?"

your brain short-circuits. the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a dreamy and borderline pathetic sigh, "yes, we have."

"we have?" he asks, brows knit together in confusion, head tilting slightly.

"i think i'd remember you," he adds as he grins. that smug, boyish kind of grin.

your heart is doing somersaults, but your brain kicks in just in time. shaking your head quickly, you wave it off like you didn’t just sound like a lovesick creep.

"sorry, no we haven't." you force out a chuckle. "must have misheard."

idiot, idiot, idiot.

he laughs softly, extending his hand, "jeongguk. nice to meet you."

you take his hand, trying not to combust from the electricity that shoots up your arm. instant sparks. "sorry for being a freak. you just... reminded me of someone."

his eyes twinkle. "all good memories, i hope?"

you laugh, nerves making it come out a little breathy.

"thank you for saving me."

you internally cringe at your choice of words. throwing yourself off the nearest bridge would be less painful than this.

'thank you for saving me?' what is this, a disney movie? It’s not like he pulled you from a burning building.

he chuckles, unfazed, and waves it off like it’s no big deal. "see you around, then."

walking away, yet again, he leaves you burning up and in awe.

many drinks later, you end up on the dancefloor, your roommate, god knows where, doing god knows what with god knows who. you've learned not to ask.

you dance (the testosterone) your heart out. you close your eyes and you let go for the first time that night.

swaying your hips, you feel a hand slide around your waist from behind, firm and confident. a spark shoots through you, electrifying every nerve. you're caught off guard, but you don’t stop.

leaning into the touch, your body instinctively recognizes the connection. the hand tightens slightly, fingers splaying against your hipbone, guiding you in perfect sync with the music. the warmth of a chest presses against your back, and your skin prickles with electricity.

you turn your head slightly, stealing a glance at the stranger behind you. but when your eyes catch his—your breath hitches in your throat. all words die right then and there. futile devices.

turning around to face him, you throw your arms around his neck, pressing your body dangerously close to his. instinctively, he makes a home for his hands on your hips, and like an intruder, makes way for a muscular thigh right in between yours.

"i think you're gonna kill me." he murmurs, his voice low and laced with lazy lust.

looking up at him, you're unable to hide the need that kisses every delicate feature on your face. eyes twinkling, lips slightly agape, eyebrows knit.

you can’t take much more of this.

without thinking, your hand finds his, and you tug him toward the edge of the dance floor. he follows without hesitation, his grip firm, a clear indicator of impatience rivaling yours.

stumbling out of the club, the night air hits your skin like a slap. pure whiplash to your practically scorching hot skin. a giggling mess, your hands tangle with your hot dream man's.

as he calls for a cab, you stand behind him. emboldened by the alcohol and adrenaline, you rise on your tiptoes and press your lips to his neck; inhaling the scent of sweat and cologne. oh how you've missed that smell.

his breath hitches, but he doesn’t stop you.

minutes pass. no cabs. no patience.

without a word, he grabs your wrist, his touch sending another jolt through you, and pulls you into a dark alley.

holy.

shit.

holy shit?

before you can process it, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. you moan into his mouth, equal parts pleasure and relief. your dark days are behind you. the curse has been broken, your dry spell is finally over.

his hands find your waist as you press into him, mouths moving like you’ve done this a hundred times before. then, with a swift motion, he spins you around, your front hitting the cool, rough wall. his body is a furnace against yours, hands exploring like a man starved.

you can take a wild guess what happened next. only this time, there was nothing to wake you up.

maybe you'll become a psychic medium for a living.

a few months later, you and jeongguk start officially dating.

it was nice to finally put a name to the face.

one lazy sunday afternoon, you're both sprawled on the couch, his head resting in your lap as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair. the soft hum of a movie plays in the background, but neither of you is really paying attention.

"you know i had a dream about you before i met you?" you blurt out, your voice casual but your heart racing the moment the words leave your mouth. sometimes you really are the very cause of your own demise.

jeongguk's eyes snap open, and he tilts his head to look up at you, a curious smile tugging at his lips. "come again?"

instantly regretting your admission, you try to brush it off, waving your hand dismissively as you shift, attempting to slide out from under him. "oh, it's nothing. forget i said anything."

"no, no. get back here," he chuckles, sitting up quickly and grabbing you by the waist before you can make your escape. with surprising ease, he spins you around, pulling you onto his lap.

"finish that thought," he says, his voice low and teasing, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"nothankyou!" you squeal, trying to wriggle free from his grasp and attempt to escape once more, but he’s stronger, and it's far too late now.

laughing, he hoists you up and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he gets up; trapping you in bicep jail.

"jeongguk! put me down!" you whine, your fists playfully pounding against his back as you kick your legs in protest. "let me oooouuutt!"

"i will," he says, taking slow, exaggerated steps toward the kitchen, "once you spill."

"fine, fine!" you huff dramatically. "put me down before my head explodes!"

he finally sets you down gently, but not without keeping his hands on your hips, his gaze locked onto yours with an expectant grin.

"well," you start, biting your bottom lip, "before i bumped into you that one time at the grocery store, i had a dream about you. and, uh… you looked exactly the same."

his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, he’s silent. then, a wide grin spreads across his face. "that is the craziest thing you've ever said. and you say some pretty crazy shit, might i add." he leans in closer, fully invested. "what kind of dream?"

you feel your cheeks heat up, turning beet red as you avert your gaze.

"baby...?" he draws out the word, his tone laced with playful curiosity. his fingers start poking your sides, making you squirm and giggle. "what kind of dream?"

"well, what do you think?" you yelp, your embarrassment reaching new heights as you cover your face with your hands. you find yourself wishing once more the earth would swallow you whole.

still confused, he racks his brain for a few moments before it finally dawns on him.

and then, laughter erupts. hearty and unrestrained, gradually making his whole body shake. "so that's why you were so weird back then?"

"gee, thanks!" you shoot back, rolling your eyes, though you can’t help but laugh along with him.

"am i wrong?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you had your mouth open like a fish. i was half expecting a fly to stumble right into your mouth."

"you've made your pointtt," you groan, dragging out the last word dramatically. "it's not every day you meet the man from your wet dreams, so yes, forgive me if i was a little tongue-tied."

crossing your arms, you try to look annoyed, but your smile gives you away.

"oh, i'll knock that attitude out of you," he grins mischievously.

before you can react, he scoops you up again and walks you over to the couch, dramatically plopping you down with exaggerated care. you squeal, laughing uncontrollably as he pins you beneath him, his face hovering inches from yours. you immediately regret your life decisions.

you never believed dreams came true.

but you are so, so thankful this one did.

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @dollyunjinz

[pineapple-downside-up-cake]

@soapcloth LOOK. I know this isn't what you meant but my brain said go and I did it.

Imagining Soap being haunted by Reader Energy narrating his life and dictating explicit erotica around his house. Constantly. At first he's absolutely panicked [see below] because he Does Not Like Spooky Things, but he realizes it doesn't mean harm, not really, and he slowly develops a paranormosocial relationship with it. us. idk.

MDNI, 18+

If asked, Johnathan Soap McTavish would swear he did not narrate in his head, in third person or otherwise.

At all.

And if he did, he would nae fecking do it in a fecking british accent.

Which is why, when he finds himself and his cock the talking point of a disembodied BBC narrator of unknown origin, he panics.

A little bit.

It did not start small.

It started large. Humongous, knock-it-out-of-the-ballpark and choke on it large.

He was watching telly in the dark. He’d finished a bottle of scotch not long ago, and his movie was almost over. He was comfortable – wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Half asleep, he thought it was the telly at first.

Soap spread his legs on the couch. His grey sweatpants hid nothing from your gaze. His t-shirt gripped his biceps like it never wanted to let go – you couldn’t blame it.

You were hungry.

Johnny blinked and rubbed a hand through his hair. He must be more tired than he realized. Dead on his feet and on the couch. It sounded like someone was talking to him. He was home alone, though.

You slid a hand up tree-trunk thighs, strong enough to climb, solid enough to ride. He twitched beneath your palm as you slid him free.

Radio. Must be a radio or the neighbors playing music too loudly again. Johnny mutes the telly, straining into the silence. Right when he’s about to give up, it starts again.

Stroking gently, you grin up at him, at the fire in his eyes. “I’ve been a bad soldier… I need to wash my mouth out with Soap.” He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken before, hard and uncut. Precum glistens at his tip, and it’s all the invitation you need. You press a kiss to his head, lick your way down his shaft –

Steaming Jesus. He must have hit his head. There is a voice – and that’s a line he wouldn’t pull out for the cheapest of hookups. He got shot and died and no one bothered to tell him. “Hello? Gaz, you pulling a prank?”

Nothing.

Definitely time to sleep this one off.

He clicked off the movie. Not really worth the wait, honestly. He’s grateful he didn’t spend money at the theater for it.

The house creaks around him as he brushes his teeth and crawls into bed. He’s more relieved than he cares to admit that it’s properly silent again. Whatever he heard, it was in his head. Someone outside getting carried away, too much liquor, and he was imagining things.

Everything will be fine in the morning.

He closes his eyes, settling into his pillow.

Tears stream down your face as you gag around Johnny’s mammoth dick, one hand on the bed, the other moving furiously between your legs as he gasps, bucking into your mouth, “So close, y'er so good to me, taking my cock so well, y’er mouth is gonna be so damn clean – ‘

Johnny bolts upright in bed with a yelp. They’re definitely talking about him.

A chill races down his spine. Even with his eyes adjusted to the dark, not blind from a screen, he can’t see anything. Spots dance in his vision, and he can feel his heartrate pounding.

“This isn’t funny, Gaz.”

Whoever it is, they don’t stop.

Johnny breaks, your name on his lips, spurting ropes and ropes and ropes of pearly white cum into your mouth. You swallow, because he tastes so good, and wipe the tears from your eyes.

“…Ghost?!” Johnny squeaks, jumping out of bed. Pure hallucination, now. “Price?” There is only one ghost in this world Johnny can tolerate, and he’s got two legs. “I’ve got a gun!”

He does not.

But no one else needs to know that all his gear stays on base when he’s on leave. He checks under the bed, and in the closet. Looks for a hidden radio, or a secret phone, trying to track the noise but block out the words from his mind.

It doesn’t work.

“Can I kiss you now, Johnny? My mouth is clean.” You ask prettily.

“No, no ye can nae!” He barks, backing into a defensible position. This is going a bit far, even for a prank. Everything is clear.

He’s the only one in the room. No sign of any speakers.

And that’s when he spots the glow. A soft, fuzzy blue. It looks almost like a person – nearly a holo-projection, vaguely hominoid and androgynous, and it’s sitting on his bed. He stares, squints hard, and rubs his eyes, but then it moves and that’s about all the spooking he can take on no sleep and few measures of scotch in his system.

Johnny snags his wallet on the way out the door and beelines down the road. He’s not running or fleeing his house. He’s making a tactical retreat in the proper fucking direction.

The pub down the street usually has rooms – he’ll stay someplace else tonight.

And if any of the squad is behind it…

Well. He hopes they are. Hopes he can laugh it off, later – ha ha, Gaz, Ghost. You got me.

[They aren’t.]

[ofspvrta]

Her mind is racing with a thousand thoughts and she's fairly certain Aletheia hasn't stopped trying to yell in her head. But Kassandra eventually learned how to tune her out, focusing on what is most important right now. Roxana. The hows and whys can come later, the important thing is she's now certain it's her. The language may have changed a bit but she's certain it's her. And from the bullet in her thigh, she knows it wasn't her hallucinations coming back from out of nowhere to haunt her again. She didn't suffer that anymore, luckily.

She focuses on the wound in her leg, the bullet would eventually fall out on its own but she'd rather not wait. Pulling out a small knife, she begins to shimmy it into the wound, trying to wiggle the damn thing out, a pained expression crossing her face. It will heal faster if nothing is obstructing the healing process. Even adding a new cut with the blade still makes it heal faster. She's done this enough to know her body. As Roxana stands, she looks up, curiosity mixing with the fading pain.

"You didn't answer my question." She says, watching her start to take off some of her gear. Kassandra resumes tending to her leg, wrapping it with some spare cloth she had nearby, but her attention is on Roxana now. "Sorry, it's not the most cozy hideout. I don't really need to eat." It's said so apologetically, and if she hadn't already admitted to being extremely old, she's certain Roxana wouldn't believe her. Then again, did she believe her when she said her age? She must have been curious enough to follow her, it can't all be out of a sense of self-preservation. She just watches her as she makes short work on that food bar and then tosses it aside like it's nothing.

As she walks over, Kassandra scoots over, suppressing another yelp as she feels the pressure in her thigh as she gives Roxana space to sit. This is progress, it's quiet, no fighting, no worrying about Abstergo, who the fuck is going to find them inside a cliff? What does get her is that Roxana is reaching out again but stops, that look on her face again, like she sees something Kassandra can't. Is she remembering? Is she okay? Kassandra gently takes the hand that was reaching out for her, the one that is now pressed to Roxana's forehead and she holds it to her own cheek. "It's okay, I'm real. Do you remember something?"

YEAH , THERE ARE NO PLANS . the only plan was 'escape,' and here they are. she asked for a way out of that so she wouldn't have to deal with abstergo. AND SHE GOT IT ? now what though? is she just going to sit here in the quiet. JUST GOING TO MOVE ON ? anyway , it continues being crazy. DOESN'T IT ? roxana sighs , yet again. HER HEAD TURNS .

... if not for anything else , it's just kassandra as her team now. SHE SAYS THAT LIKE SHE EVER CARED ABOUT HER TEAM . everything in abstergo was so cold. this doesn't feel cold. AND IT'S NOT THAT SHE'S COLD . she has a house , with neighbors , she plays catch with the neighbor's kids. YEAH , ABSTERGO REALLY HAD HER BY THE THROAT . roxana stands.

she's going to have to do something instead of sitting there anyway. IT'S JUST GOING TO DRIVE HER CRAZY . she wants to help , actually , but look at her making excuses for why. roxana stretches her back , rolls her neck , takes off the utility belt. HANGS THAT OVER THE CHAIR . she takes off her gloves next. reaches into one pouch to pull out a lonely granola. SHE CAN ALREADY FEEL HOW BROKEN UP IT IS . and when she opens it , she has to pour pieces into her mouth. SHE'S GOING TO GET HUNGRY SOON , ISN'T SHE ?

the gloves are tossed on the chair before finishing the granola bar and throwing the wrapper on top of the gloves. THEN SHE WALKS OVER TO KASSANDRA . sits on the edge of the mattress. she was actually going to reach out , yet again , but another memory flashed before her eyes. THEY'RE HEAVY . kassandra's same face. a bowl of fruit next to her head. SKINNIER AND A LITTLE BATTERED . the hand that was reaching out has to recall to press to her forehead again.

[makedonsgriva]

just remembered that xie lian spent 100 years trapped in a coffin. brb going to claw my heart out of my throat

[luckydicekirby]

hey. sorry. they're making ANOTHER SEASON OF DEXTER? why are they doing that. why didn't anyone page me also. god they should not fucking do that. guys you killed him. you wised up and killed him and it actually worked thematically. do not get too cocky. you're going to make a famously bad season finale again

[mukuberry]

😎 <- his ass is getting plagued by olfactory hallucinations

[warpaway]

linhardt manages a stable sigh. how does their best friend know exactly what to say? they think of the crest they saw that they promised they wouldn't tell anyone, but surely caspar is okay... he probably won't even remember it... they think of the strange structures they saw in the sealed forest. caspar will think the glowing rocks are cool, probably, and linhardt thinks of how their colors were similar to caspar.

then, he remembers the shade-hallucination that taunted him in the forest. oddly, it gave him hope for his friend. he wonders if admitting that would creep caspar out.

but finally, caspar unlocks it. yes, linhardt can keep themself calm when it comes to the others, and absolutely everyone is okay.

"yes," they breathe, hardly above a whisper. a smile tugs at their lips, and they allow it to form, canting their head into caspar's warm hand. he smells like dirt and sweat and blood, but right now it's okay because the blood is dried and caspar is safe. linhardt closes their eyes, if only to settle their stomach.

"absolutely everyone is okay, if you can believe it. bernadetta is currently in the infirmary, but she's mostly unharmed. you were the one unaccounted for, cas. you must realize..."

he leaves the sentence hanging. you must realize what it's done to me, worrying for you. caspar will get it.

"you stink, by the way," he says instead. "we should get back, if only so you can actually clean up."

road 1/1000

reunion || restoration

[flowers-that-sing]

cw for psychosis things (mostly in tags)

yesterday, while hallucinating, i came up with what i thought was a genius idea for my fanfiction.

...yeah

[boyheros]

Ok having reread the losing my mind comic I'm thinking so hard. Going on the road trip was Arthur's idea, specifically. And he got that idea after having a supernatural fucking hallucination(?) In the attic of the tome tomb. where something is seemingly calling out to him to find this freaky mansion or whatever. AND HE JUST GOES? you're crazy. Like I guess Lewis was luring him but Arthur. you just went ? you're notoriously scared of supernatural things and you experience a fucking ghostly visión and you decide this is the best course of action. bless.

[heeleryuta]

music from a tumblr mobile ad was playing in the background while i was listening to music and i legit thought i was going crazy

[skitskatdacat63]

I really got home and then redecorated for like 6 hours straight. I haven't slept in 25 hours basically 😐 and the last time I slept it was like, less than 5. This is how I adjust to the timezone change LMAO

But hey at least my F1 shrine is now more complete :D I now just need to frame the poster of Nando I got at the gp, but I have no idea where to put it. I love when I have an obsession, and then I always put the "shrine" precariously balanced on the tiny shelf on my desk. So that every time I have to find something, I risk knocking everything down

[todayisafridaynight]

the worst part in being able to write sentences is that nothings stopping me from writing fics yk

[spookymakosharkskizzers]

It’s so strange to me when peoples first reaction to hearing you hallucinate is “gosh that must be so scary”. I wish I could articulate right now exactly what it is that reaction makes me feel but all I I’ve got right now is it’s strange.

[drewjayjoan]

There are 2 kinds of people who don’t understand the word gaslight. There are the people who call all behavior that they don’t like gaslighting, and then there are the people who think they’re master manipulators when they also don’t actually understand gaslighting.

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

watched the platform 2

think my thoughts on it went something like

'oh okay we're starting off similar'

'what the fuck'

'what the fuck'

'what the fuck is happening'

'what fucking drugs were they on when they wrote this'

'OH MY GOD IS THIS WHOLE THING METAPHORICAL?'

'what's the fucking metaphor'

'what fucking drugs were they on when they wrote this'

'what the fuck'

'OHHHH IT'S A PREQUEL'

[whumptober]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this 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. Tropes 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? 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).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!