#this would make such a good whump trope

[weirdstrangeandawful]

‘It’s not withdrawal. It’s fine. I’ll be fine until tomorrow. I just missed a dose of my shitty fucking beta blocker. It’s totally fine!’

*takes a leftover lorazepam from surgery a while back*

*symptoms vanish almost completely about 20 minutes later*

Lorazepam doesn’t even work on me as a sedative, that’s why I still had one tablet lying around after surgery in July. And yet it seems to work damn well for this.

[lizzylucky]

Draxum hadn't accounted for the fact that when he gave four hatchling turtles the DNA of a human being in order to give them greater intelligence, he would effectively be making himself a surrogate father to actual children, with wildly different needs.

When he sent his gargoyles to obtain a sample of DNA from Big Mama's prized warrior, the intention was to create his own. They were to be the prototypes for an army of simple creatures with just enough heightened intelligence to learn combat and follow commands, that he might defend Yokai kind with.

Instead, he quickly discovered the integration of human DNA had been a little over successful in allowing his test subjects to learn and think and feel in a civilized manner, going so far as to override some of their natural instincts as turtles that would otherwise allow them to learn to care for themselves. He had to feed them, by hand, with bottles.

Like infants.

They were easily distraught by unfamiliar things, and quickly became dependent on Draxum in every sense of the word. They babbled, they cried, they explored things with their hands, their tails, their mouths.

It was an unplanned adjustment needed to be made, but no matter. If anything, learning to understand the new hybrid emotions of these turtles would allow Draxum greater advantages when they grew enough to safely learn combat. Preferences, likes and dislikes, needs, diet, and so on, all became more complex areas of study.

Even a couple years in, he found himself continually surprised. Brain scans had shown that the turtles were more intelligent, still, than anticipated. They, truly, seemed more human in mind and function than anything else, with only some base instincts and behaviors left to influence their personalities. They retained many reptilian traits, but overall had the bipedal anatomy and function of humans and some Yokai. It had been an infuriating discovery at first, but Draxum had to admit that over time he became fond of it.

Each turtle had developed his own personality. The eldest, for example, had a love of plush toys, and showed a fierce protective instinct over the others. The youngest, Draxum had learned, was contrastedly reckless and excitable, not nearly so reserved or gentle as the first. Additionally, he was, decidedly, to be kept away from any and every writing utensil unless under strict supervision (unfortunately, this was learned a little too late, as was evidenced by the clear markings left in several work benches). Then, of course, were the slider and the softshell, who had the most bizarre relationship. They were constantly fighting with each other, but utterly inseparable, and each showed an incredible and unique curiosity, constantly exploring and watching and studying, with concentration filling their eyes in ways Draxum had never seen in other children so young.

Embarrassingly, it took another couple years before Draxum realized he couldn't simply refer to them by their species' names. It certainly was effective, but they were not the mild, simple creatures he had once expected them to be, and he knew that they never would.

Now, they were vocal, playful, inquisitive... energetic. By the gods, were they energetic. They never stopped moving, never stopped talking, never stopped eating, never stopped wanting or needing.

...This is why Draxum never had children of his own. It took all the time and energy he had to spare, and then some. Although it would be a lie to say he wished they were any other way.

They had so much capacity to learn, and with their emotional propensity could one day come to understand exactly why Draxum was doing this, which he knew would be an edge in their combative styles.

As he introduced them, slowly, to more of the world's culture and knowledge, he felt, in a new way, that their very existences were revolutionary. A perfect, synergistic unity between two entirely different families of genetic material, with numerous enhanced abilities. And they were children. They maintained all the properties of regular children, but had so much more in store! Such grand destinies! They would be, inarguably, the greatest warriors of their time when they were grown. They would be the compassionate, skillful heroes of all Yokai, the first of a new generation of super mutants, and the key to overcoming the evils of the humans who had overtaken the surface and posed such threat to all who lived below.

It was with great reluctance that he allowed himself to accept, however, that not all of mankind was evil. There were many forms of art, beautiful in different ways, there were some rare people filled with kindness, inventions that utilized resources in ways Yokai kind had never thought to. Perhaps he had been a little stubborn in his ways, a bias cementing over time that blinded him to some of the beauty that did yet exist in such a species.

Make no mistake, humans were a threat. Innocent families lived in fear, in hiding, of the governments and ruthless sciences designed to invade, to blaspheme the name of knowledge, with no regard for the safety of this people.

Draxum could live with being an outlaw to the Yokai if his experiments would lead to their salvation. He may be their villain in today's papers, but in history books he would be a hero.

Still, he wished to amend some of his practices. Even if only to his turtles, he would be known for his ability to change and understand. He would be fair, and he would be truthful.

And so it was that he told the turtles the nature of their existence. Perhaps he muted some of the details, to protect their minds until they had more understanding, but he would not lie to them about their DNA. He told them of Lou Jitsu, and their human genetics, and he begrudgingly allowed them access to the culture of the humans. He would let them choose their interests unbiased.

In the process, he came to know of some of the revolutionaries of human history. Though he wasn't particularly inclined to believe there were no evils involved, he was intrigued by the strange moral code that the humans boasted from their different time periods. The turtles, as well, were fascinated by the stories of war heroes and generals, seamstresses and inventors, artists and royalty.

Initially, when it came time to redesignate his turtles, Draxum had been inclined toward the names of those whose legacies persisted in the humans' culture even today- perhaps a president for the slider, a scientist for the softshell, a great general for the snapper, and an artist for the young box turtle. It seemed, somehow, clandestinely right; carefully considered to exemplify each of their personalities.

And although he had begun to get used to the possibility of names like "Monroe" and "Edison", his indecision on the matter seemed to be working against him. He was taking too long, and the boys were growing smarter.

It was a day in August, later that year, that he found his two youngest arguing over a Renaissance book, oddly enough. The elder two took to a game of knocking "secret patterns" on each other's carapaces, which he dismissed before he could allow himself the confusion that came with wondering why a five year old would want to knock on a spiked shell for fun.

After breaking up the fight and confiscating the book (which, as it turned out, the youngest only wanted because it had pictures in it, much to the chagrin of the other, who insisted that reading it was much better than just looking at the pictures), Draxum found himself idly flipping through pages of rustic images and rudimentary ideas, developed by people with strange names.

Maybe he was simply too tired to consider it properly, but, feeling defeated in his endeavor, he chose four names at random and assigned them to the young turtles, deciding it had been long enough.

It took a while to get used to, but soon "Raphael", "Leonardo", "Donatello", and "Michaelangelo" truly fit.

Over time, the boys grew... ravenous. They devoured everything- food, information, technique. They were learning quickly everything Draxum taught them. They practiced with Huginn and Muninn, leapt up, around, over, and through everything in the lab, and took special interest in action-filled films.

And Draxum grew fonder. He wasn't entirely surprised, of course; it's natural to develop some sense of sentimentality when caring for anything this long. Even if they had been the simple minded turtles he expected, he knew this was inevitable, to a degree.

What startled him was the sudden sense of fear that came with watching them train. The alarm that made his heart beat harder when one of them fell from somewhere high or any time they ran simple drills with weapons not blunted and made from wood.

He subtly began to intensify their defensive strategies, taught them where they were most vulnerable so they could protect those spots, insisted on perfecting their abilities to parry, block, and dodge before anything else.

And, over time, he found himself training them less often than before, thinking, "I must preserve their innocence and prolong their childhood experiences". After all, it was an essential part of development, was it not? If it were tarnished too much, they might become unwise or unjust as warriors. And, really, Raphael was only 8 years old, and he was the eldest; they were much too young to be exposed to the harshness of what their combative training was really for.

He told himself that, time and time again. He told them that, making certain they understood that their training was not a game. It wasn't untrue, certainly.

Really, he just wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to admit to what extent he cared about them, because it was too much. It was more than he could ever have been prepared for. It was more than that passion to protect Yokai kind ever was, and if he ever realized that, he might become the compromise to his own purposes, to the very reason these turtles exist this way to begin with, and then what? What was he to tell them, why was he to train them, who did they exist for if not the inhabitants of the Hidden City?

No. He couldn't do that. He simply would not allow it, not when so much was at stake.

And yet...

More and more often he desired simply to watch them. He was growing weary with worry, and with that tight feeling that arose in his chest each time one of his boys so much as frowned.

Raphael loved to carry his brothers on his shoulders. And he prided himself on being the big brother, in every way. He liked repeating instructions Draxum gave to the others, and tended to play caretaker anytime someone was sad, or had a bruised knee. He often played the "bad guy" in their made up games so the younger ones could "win", he was the mediator in big decisions, like what book they should read before bed, and he seemed always ready with an armful of stuffed animals when he wanted to express affection. So strong, incredibly strong, but soft spoken and sweet.

Leonardo adored Raphael. Just as Raphael did Draxum, Leonardo liked to imitate and repeat instructions. He tended to take charge in many of their childish endeavors, and had a propensity for dramatics and heroism, often pretending to rescue his brothers. This seemed to irritate Donatello to no end, unless he was also playing the hero, and often times he was. The two were usually glued to the hip, though Leonardo liked to make a point to tell all his brothers about everything that went on, and would take a movie night with the three of them over a one on one outing with Draxum any day. He was exuberant and joyous, and very driven by the concept of justice.

Donatello, similarly, seemed to care very dearly about maintaining a bond with all three of his brothers, but he was peculiar, often more reserved and enjoying his alone time. That child read and read like he might never get a chance to again, and he absorbed what he read like a sponge. Quite a few times Draxum found him pulling apart whatever he could get his hands on, and though an effort was made, there was no hiding place the boy couldn't discover in his quest for Draxum's tools. In spite of his quizzical, sometimes stoic nature, Donatello was sensitive, and very thoughtful. He would spend hours talking about his books and his ideas- some of which were very clever- and he was expressive in secondary ways- sitting nearer his brothers even without interacting, crafting things out of paper as gifts. Even the little heart-shaped mark on the back of his soft shell seemed a fitting part of him- he wore his heart on his sleeve, so to speak, and didn't even realize it.

And Michaelangelo. There was an innocence and joy and goodness about the smallest turtle that had struck Draxum. Even when he was younger he always wore a smile and liked to see the good side of things. And he idolized his brothers. With him had grown his creative inclinations, filling every colouring book, drawing on every wall, and absolutely plastering the other turtles with stickers. They were a pain to wash off, but Draxum couldn't bring himself to mind it, especially given the elder three always loved their baths. Ironically, it seemed Michealangelo did not, enjoying it only under specific circumstances. Heat, bubble bath, and bath toys had quickly become a necessity. So too did bath crayons, the need to express himself coming through even when bathing. Everything about the ornate box turtle was bright and colourful.

Draxum... loved them. Dearly. Every facet of their personalities and growth. Every unique trait and behavior.

It was terrifying. He couldn't afford to love them. He couldn't afford to see any more goodness in the humanity they showed. He couldn't afford to change his goals right now.

So he continued disregarding the feeling, trying to reason that everything he did for them was to nurture their instincts as warriors, as science experiments, as specimen.

But a pained scream one day, different from any of the ones he heard when they were frightened as infants, when one of them tripped and fell, when a spat led to hitting, sent his heart into his throat and had him racing through doorways with more urgency than he had felt for anything before.

He had demanded an explanation, panic translating to perceived anger, and three of his boys looked up with teary eyes. Three, but Donatello remained curled up on the ground, wailing his little heart out without ever looking up, and it was one of the most heart wrenching, painful sounds Draxum'd ever heard.

Raphael sat not far from the smaller boy, looking over his shoulder seemingly at nothing, at Donatello, then up at Draxum and back again. Both Leonardo and Michaelangelo burst into frantic, panicked explanations, none of their words coherent enough to understand through their tears.

When Raphael stood, exposing red-tipped spikes on his shell and pointing frantically to Donatello's, it didn't take long to figure out well enough what had happened.

It became quickly a very long day. All four turtles were distraught, and though Draxum had more than enough first aid knowledge to address the situation, bile had threatened to rise the very moment he pulled out the suture kit.

The cuts were deep, and jagged. And poor Donatello cried the entire time, even after a numbing agent had been applied.

Draxum had never thought that in depth about Donatello's soft shell. Not like that. He chose a softshell for the experiment because it would provide greater flexibility, greater agility. It gave an advantage that the hard-shelled turtles did not have.

Now, here... The soft carapace, spongy and leathery and bloody...

It was an accident. Of course it was, Draxum never doubted that. He had to assure that none of his boys were in trouble, no one was in trouble, no one had done anything wrong.

But for the first time he had to be honest with himself. For the first time he couldn't deny how much he cared about the turtles. His turtles. His boys.

He wouldn't, either. If this was what it was, if this was something that could happen again because he insisted on making them into warriors, into fighters- if this could happen on purpose, if this could happen worse, if this could happen with malice and hatred in mind...

Draxum wasn't unused to physical affection, by now. All four boys adored hugs, although Donatello was usually more reserved about them. Now, Donatello clung like his life depended on it, sniffling and whimpering, having cried so long he had no more tears. Draxum clung back, idly smoothing over the edges of the bandages, holding the frightened, exhausted turtle to his chest, cradling.

He did so until well after Donatello fell asleep. He couldn't bring himself to put him down. He accompanied the others to bed, assuring them once more that things were alright, and then simply stood in the walkway, holding his boy tightly.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't go through with it. They were children, every bit as innocent and deserving as the Yokai he wished to avenge and protect. He could train them, prepare them to protect themselves, but he could never send them into battle, ask them to put their lives on the line, much less demand it.

How could he?

It took months of processing, of agonizing his way through the healing process with Donatello, of watching the other boys proving their humanity, their curiosity, and their innocence time and time and time again. His mind was constantly at war with itself, his heart constantly in turmoil and distress, worsened by the turtles' confusion at his sudden change in behavior.

What was even worse was that they would.

They would absolutely sacrifice everything they had for his approval, and for what they understood as "right". He could see them, easily, being willing to submit their very lives to a greater cause if he asked it.

But was he "right"? Even if this experiment had gone exactly as planned, was he right for ever considering putting these turtles into the station of a warrior? Even if they had remained turtles in mind, if they never expressed complex emotion, if they could not speak, if they did not have distinct and colourful personalities, would it have been right?

Was what he saw in them now what they would have been at heart, regardless of circumstance?

Or was it the humanity, that he stole from Lou Jitsu?

Perhaps... perhaps it was time to learn. To consider the root of his motivations.

He couldn't do this to them.

How could he?

[cry-ptidd]

Just a Historical Fact, Jonathan indeed brought a rug. It was common when travelling especially to the mountains to use it in order to cover your legs in carriages. (And I mean Dracula didn't just steal his clothes, he stole his money and his identification and all his envelopes. He wanted to leave Jonathan with an empty briefcase to drive home the notion "even if you escaped the castle somehow, you wouldn't go far lol" so stay down)

This is fascinating! Thank you very much for the fact, and confirming that Jonathan didn't have a toupee

[simcardiac-arrested]

no actually I’d like to hear your thoughts on the isat ending

Like i said it felt really tropey and by that i meant that it’s just Everything Good Happens forever and…..that’s it ? like idk we were building up to this huge catharsis sort of thing and then we got to it and it was so sudden and not a good payoff and just kind of nothingburger of an ending . the fact that everyone just forgives siffrin bothers me, or at least the fact that they don’t confront them about the shit they’ve said and done. call me a mental illness villainizer but i think if you’re a fucking asshole and doing the most insensitive things to the people you care about then hey, i think those ppl have a right to fucking tell you off for it. likeeee idk being at your lowest point …… not an excuse …. not feeling it chief ……. like sure the message is to move past your mistakes or whatever but ? that doesn’t mean just getting away with it ??? and i just really don’t understand Why everyone forgives him. honestly at the end of the day the ending is just one problem, the root of which are the characters. everyone feels like trope cardboard cutouts. oh, this is the smart one. this is the smol bean. this is the himbo. and they all care for each other btw. Did u hear that? they all care for each other. we’re not really going to explain to you why these people are so close or what they went through together but just trust me man they’re sooo found famy. like …. okay. i’ve played 30 hours of this game and not once did i buy that any of the characters really cared about each other. like??? why???? You’re telling me everyone super cares about siffrin even though they barely know them?? you’re telling me siffrin cares about everyone sooo much even though he never even bothered to find out their problems before ? Wat ? and this just breaks the ending more because literally whyyy do these people care about him so bad. and then it’s just whyyy does siffrin Have to tell them anything he doesn’t even seem to know them that well. everyone feels like colleagues and Just Friends at best. and so the ending just seems really forced. like it was written by that type of tumblr user who’s always talking about aww why does the found family have to break up after the end of the journey :( which is like fiiiiine. i guess. but u guys know that u have to build up to it right?? you can’t just tell me they’re Family Members(tm) 102829 times and that they super care about each other source: trust. you can’t just do that and then expect me to believe it ….. It feels unearned. the ending feels unearned and i don’ttttt understand what i’m supposed to take away from it . that it’s ok to fuck people up because you’re traumatized and insecure?? that you have to talk about your deepest problems with people you barely know??? i just dont know. Like i said if im being honest the problems with this game’s writing are more than just the ending, it just stands out so much because there’s a lot of build up and then just …… That

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2023

Welcome to Whumptober 2023 — the sixth year running!

COMPLETIONISTS/PARTICIPANT BADGES CAN BE FOUND HERE

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome!

Please make sure to read the Event Info 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.

And this years playlist can be found here.

There are 139 prompt options in total this year - this is including the alternatives list! A special thanks goes out to those who took part in our trope vote back in July. From the 1526 responses to our list of 223 tropes, we looked through the popularity results, as well as your honourable mentions, and were able to produce this years prompts list. Stay tuned, as we will be posting some of the results at a later date!

We’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. 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

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”

Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”

No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”

No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Alternatives List:

Betrayal

Aftermath of Failure

Brass Knuckles

Decoy

Body Modification

Playing Cards

Examination

Hunting

Drugging

Shaking

Panic

Broken

Miscommunication

Lab Rat

Reluctant Whumper

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~

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. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.

The prompts are merely 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 related to the 'spark' of a relationship. It's truly up to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

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 the with:

#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(day number)

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

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

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

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Add "tw" AFTER the trigger/content warning. )

#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 the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. How does this year’s prompt list work? What do I have to choose?

You can create something based on:

The overall theme/lyric of the day

Prompt 1, 2 or 3

One or several of the alternative prompts

A combination of the above

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.7, #radio silence). If you create works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a prompt/theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation. Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe.

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If you’ve previously posted something that checks the boxes, we ask that you not include it retroactively for this current year. You can, however, add new chapters relating to one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, RPF, whoever you like. You can use the generic “whumpee” character or have specific ones.

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 use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only counts once towards being a completionist.

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

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? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst/emotional whump focus ok?

Of course! We are not going to establish a threshold for whumpiness. If you think it’s whumpy enough, then it’s whumpy enough. It can be physical, psychological, emotional, or any combination of the three.

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

Typically the genre includes situations where a fictional character is hurt, be it emotionally, psychologically, or physically. Fanlore provides information here.

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

If you don’t think your interpretation is whumpy, then it doesn’t count for Whumptober. Remember that whump comes in many forms, though, and that we don’t have a whump-checker or a threshold for how much whump needs to be included. If you think your interpretation contains enough whump to count, then it does.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. #gore tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want. 

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2023 tag.

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box.

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, use clear and descriptive tags.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

[evasive-anon]

Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower

Fanon vs Canon

We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.

What I'm addressing:

What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Did Jason drug all the other Titans?

Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?

Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?

Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?

Was Tim crying or scared?

Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?

Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?

Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.

What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.

Look at these opening lines:

Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way. Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.

Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.

There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:

You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good. I am. He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.

TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.

What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me? Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me. Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way. That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim? Yes.

Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*

Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?

Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.

Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.

Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?

Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.

Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?

No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.

Does Jason break Tim's staff?

Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.

Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭

Tim crying/ being scared?

Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.

Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.

Message on the wall in Tim's blood?

TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.

Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.

Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?

Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.

[whumperofworlds]

WOW BIRTHDAY WHUMP EVENT

Welcome to another year of my birthday whump event!!! This year is gonna be good because I will be hitting the big 30! So for that, as suggested by a lot of you, I decided to have a little theme for this year: my favorite trope of all time, used as bait!

This event runs on April 1-15! The event ends on April 30th! However, you're more than welcome to start early or late!

And of course, we have completionist and participant badges like last year! Just note: to get the completionist badge, you must post your prompts before the end of April 30th!

For those unable to see the picture, prompts and rules are below the cut!

WoW's Birthday Whump Event

PROMPTS

Day 1: Unable to warn would-be rescuers/Trying to scream through the gag

Day 2: Bait for an animal/creature/nonhuman/Fishing with live bait

Day 3: Using themself as bait/Volunteering someone else as bait

Day 4: "Come and save them!"

Day 5: Lured into a trap/Springing the trap

Day 6: Forced to give oneself up to save another/Used as bait with a time limit

Day 7: Wide eyes in fear

Day 8: Frantic head shaking

Day 9: "Let them go! I'm the one you want!"

Day 10: "Get out of here! It's a trap!"/Guilt

Day 11 🎉: Used as bait/Parting words regret

Day 12: "I know it's a trap, but I can't leave Whumpee!"/Failed rescue

Day 13: "They won't come for me!"/"You shouldn't have come!"

Day 14: Caretaker used as bait/Team used as bait

Day 15: Caretaker abandons Whumpee

RULES

1. Anyone can join, not just whump blogs!

2. NSFW, gore, etc are allowed, just make sure you tag properly and use community labels! If it's not tagged properly and/or no community labels are used, I unfortunately can't reblog it, sorry!

3. Anything can be used for these prompts (art, writing, gifs, etc!)

4. If you like me to find you, tag your posts with #wow birthday whump , #wow birthday whump [day #] , and/or #wow birthday whump alt prompt , along with the prompt name (ie if it's day one and you're writing for the "Bound and gagged" whump, tag as #bound and gagged )

5. While the prompts are used as bait related, you're more than welcome to interpret the prompts however you please!

6. HAVE FUN!

[merrybloomwrites]

I'm Sorry If I Say I Need You (One Direction x Reader - Kidnapped)

Summary: You always thought that getting put into a band with 5 boys would be the craziest thing to happen to you. And then you and those 5 boys all get kidnapped and held hostage. After years of being seen as the strong one, will this experience be the one to break you? Or will the support of your bandmembers be enough to save you?

CW: kidnapping, physical violence, mentions of weapons, inappropriate/unwanted touches, manipulation, gaslighting, injuries (Blood, bruising), hospitals

WC: 6K

AN: Please read the tags, as this is a heavy & violent story. I try not to go in depth with those scenes, focusing instead on the interactions between reader and the boys, but I do include some of the violent parts. Don't read if this makes you uncomfortable, I totally get this isn't for everyone and I understand not wanting to read this.

Also I have Paul Higgins playing a role in this. If you don't know how he is, he was the head of security back in the 1D days and the boys called him their dad on tour.

Back when I was doing whumptober I had a random thought about that "Kidnapped by 1D" trope that's been around forever. I thought about reversing it so it's reader kidnapping them instead. And then decided to write a legit story where reader is also a member of the band and they all get taken together. I'd been seeing a lot of different whump tropes and wanted to test myself and write a story with some aspects I'd never done before. This is the result! It is, of course, filled with the boys being protective and comforting and so there's plenty of that mixed in with the whump!

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Growing up as the only girl with five older brothers had definitely shaped you. You were strong, tough, sure of yourself. You didn’t put up with any nonsense. You never showed fear, or pain, or weakness. 

All of your brothers were athletic, and you’d spent so much time watching different sporting events. And while you played a number of sports as well, you didn’t excel the same way they did. So you decided to follow a different path.

That path led you to audition for the X Factor. You had big dreams of becoming a famous singer and getting away from the shadow of your brothers. 

And then ironically, you’d somehow been put in a band with five older boys. Well, you were only a couple months younger than Harry, but still. You couldn’t believe your luck. It was somehow good, since you hadn’t been turned away, and simultaneously bad, since you once again had to find a way to stand out from a group of boys.

But you quickly learned that Niall, Liam, Harry, Zayn, and Louis were nothing like your brothers. Sure they were energetic and crazy like them, but they were so different when it came to you. Instead of teasing you and ignoring you because you were young, or because you were a girl, they would support you, compliment you, protect you. 

It was nice, but also a little strange. You didn’t know how to accept all of this, so you put up a wall. While you were friends with the others, you kept a bit of distance. They had a way of trying to almost coddle you, and you refused to let that happen. You were just as strong and confident as them. You didn’t need any special treatment.

This is how it started, and how it stayed. You’re now three years into being One Direction, and the boys have learned how to behave around you. Group hugs and high fives are allowed, but other than that, they didn’t enter your personal space. They’d give you compliments but make sure not to go over the top. And even though their instincts had them anxious to protect you when out in public, to put a barrier between you and the paps or the fans, they knew better, and allowed you to walk solo just like they did. 

It made you feel respected, knowing that they were listening to your boundaries even when it felt wrong to them. And you knew that if you let them get closer or treat you differently than they treated each other, you’d be seen as weaker by the public. So keeping up these walls was necessary for your success.

But on late, lonely travel nights, you find yourself wishing you could let them in. Sometimes you do feel weak, or tired, or not good enough. And you wish you could go to them for comfort. On a number of occasions you almost do, but then they make some comment about how well you handle everything and how they wish they could be strong like you, and you hold back once again. 

That is, until the six of you find yourselves in a situation that pushes you towards your breaking point.

You’re halfway through a leg of tour when some sort of illness travels through your crew. Somehow none of the onstage performers get it, and it seems to be hitting your security team the hardest. On this night in particular, every normal security guard calls out sick and you end up with a group of complete strangers.

It’s weird, but none of you question it, as it seems like the only option at this point. And when the show ends and you’re loading into the van, you’re all too tired to worry about it anyway. You figure they must be safe if management hired them to protect their biggest source of income. 

You're in the middle of the back row, squished between Liam and Niall. Your eyes are heavy, and the motion of the car is soothing, nearly putting you to sleep. 

But then Liam turns and asks, “Does this look at all like the way we came?”

You shrug and say, “I haven’t been paying attention,” and Niall adds, “It’s dark, how are you seeing anything out there?”

“I can see enough to know I’ve never seen this before,” Liam responds. 

“Maybe it’s just a different route,” you say. 

“Could be,” he concedes. It’s quiet again in the car, but as the drive goes on you can sense Liam’s growing agitation. 

“It shouldn’t be taking this long,” he suddenly says into the quiet van. His anxiety is rubbing off on you and you lean over him to look out the window. You still can’t see much. 

But looking inside the vehicle you begin to notice something. The six security guards all look agitated by the conversation. You start to think that maybe something is wrong, that these strangers may be up to something. 

And sure enough, after another minute they turn down a road and begin to floor it. There’s commotion, all of you shouting out to slow down, but then one of the men turns around and holds out a gun. 

“You belong to us now. Shut up, and sit still. When we get to the house you’ll calmly walk inside. Put up a fight and we'll shoot. We have more people waiting at the house, all armed, so we have the upper hand. Got it?”

All six of you manage to nod, though you’re all practically frozen from fear. Niall and Liam each move to grab your hands, and normally you’d shift away, but you can tell they need this more than you do right now. 

The car jolts to a stop, causing you all to slam into the seats in front of you, and you’re all a bit disoriented as you’re taken from the van to the basement of a large house. 

It’s straight out of a thriller movie. Concrete floor and walls illuminated by a single hanging light bulb. Dirty mattress in the corner. Various scary looking objects that you don’t want to know the uses of. 

“This is where we have fun,” says one of the men. There are twelve in total. And as promised, each of them carries at least one weapon. 

“You’ll stay in there,” says another man as he opens a door in the corner of the room. The six of you are pushed inside of a small, carpeted but otherwise bare room, barely big enough for all of you to be able to lay down at once. There’s another door off this room that leads to a bathroom. It’s dirty and smelly but at least you’ll have a private place to pee. 

One thing that’s clear, there’s no way out. 

“You’ll stay in here until we come for you. Oh, and if any of you does any funny business, steps a toe out of line or fights back, she gets it,” says one of the men emphatically as he points at you with his gun. 

The message is clear. And smart. Your band members will do anything to protect you. There’s no way they’ll do something that will put you in danger. Just like that, these kidnappers have prevented any pushback from your group. Not that there seems to be anything you all can do, being outnumbered and unarmed. 

It’s truly a nightmare of a situation. And somehow it’s happening to you. 

“We’ll be back soon,” he says before closing and locking the door. 

The six of you stand there for a moment, utterly baffled and terrified. 

“You okay?” Zayn says, and you look up to see him turned towards you. 

Repressing an eye roll you respond, “Of course not. None of us are. We literally got kidnapped and taken to a friggen house of horrors.” 

“Yea, but he didn’t threaten any of our lives,” Louis adds. 

“Pretty sure all of our lives are in danger,” you reply. “We’re being held captive by psychopaths. I don’t think any of us are safe.”

You sit on the floor, tucking your head between your knees. The others follow, and the six of you sit in silence, all trying to think of a way out of this mess. 

Being left there alone is unnerving, but what’s even worse is when one of the men comes back. He scans the room as all of you silently and fearfully watch him. 

“You,” he finally says, pointing to Niall. “You’re up first.” The man leans down, grabbing Niall and roughly pulling him up. Before anyone can even react, Niall is thrown into the other part of the basement and the door is shut and locked once more. 

While the door muffles the sound, you can all still hear the noises of impacts followed by Niall’s cries of pain. Your imagination runs wild with images of what they might be doing to him. 

After a few minutes the door opens and Niall is shoved back inside before two men grab Zayn. They bring him out, and once again the rest of you are forced to listen as they hurt your friend. Meanwhile Liam checks Niall and comforts him. 

The pattern continues, and each time one of the guys is returned, another is taken. Louis is the last of the boys, and you know it’s your turn next. 

But then Louis is pushed back in, and the man closes and locks it. You’re confused, unsure why they didn’t take you. 

The boys are hurt, but nothing too bad. A couple bruises, a few small scratches, but it could’ve been worse. 

Just when you think you might get away unharmed, the door opens again. “Your turn,” says the man as he looks at you, a disturbing smile on his face. 

You see the boys move to block you but you subtly shake your head and stand up and walk towards the door, accepting your fate. 

“Good girl,” he says, causing you to shiver in disgust. Once out of the small room, you’re thrown to the concrete floor and all twelve men surround you. 

There’s a kick to your back and it knocks the air out of you. And you gasp for breath, another kick lands on your stomach. You’re pulled up, held in the air by two men as others take their turns hitting you. 

Suddenly they stop, the men dropping you and you land harshly on the floor. Finally you can catch your breath, but you warily watch the men, waiting for another blow. 

It doesn’t come. Instead, the man in charge crouches in front of you, causing you to recoil, but he grabs you by the hair to keep your face close to his. 

“You’re the one we want,” he says. You stare at him in confusion. “We didn’t want the boys. But it was impossible to get you alone. Oddly enough it was easier to take all of you. But just know, they are in this mess because of you. So you’d better behave.”

With that he lifts you up and pushes you back into the small room. Immediately after the door closes, the boys surround you, trying to ask if you’re okay, but you put up your hands, alerting them not to touch you. They give you space and you tell them you’re fine, and while they know that’s not true, they also know not to press you to talk. 

You sit in a corner of the room holding your head in your hands. You hear the others talk but your mind is too busy to listen to them. 

After some time they all lay down to sleep, but guilt keeps you awake. You notice the way they’re all comforting each other, even as they sleep. Liam and Harry are laying together while Louis is holding both Zayn and Niall. 

You wish you could curl up with them, get comfort from them, but that would be selfish. 

They’re in this mess because of you. They’re hurting and it’s all your fault. So no, you don’t deserve to be held. You deserve to suffer. 

Eventually you fall asleep only to be woken a couple hours later by the door slamming open. Water bottles and granola bars are tossed in the room and the door shuts once more. 

“Guess breakfast is here,” Louis says. It’s not much, but at least you won’t starve or dehydrate. 

All six of you eat in silence, and as soon as you’re done the door opens. Liam is taken first this time, and the pattern from last night continues. You’re all taken three times throughout the day, after every meager meal that you’re given. 

You’re always last. The order of the boys switches up, seems random. But you’re always saved to be the final person. After lunch you’re told it’s so that you can see the pain your bandmates are experiencing because of you. 

It keeps you docile, willing to take whatever beating they give you. 

Which is more than they give the boys. You’ve noticed that when the others come back they only have one or two new injuries each time. Just enough to keep them in line. They boys have also mentioned it’s only two guys there each time they’re taken. 

For you, it’s always the full dozen. And they all take turns. It feels like every inch of your body is covered in bruises. 

But you make sure not to let the boys see. They tend to one another, make sure they’re all eating, and hold each other whenever someone needs comfort. 

As you’re reminded each time the men have you in their grasp, you don’t deserve that comfort. The pain your friends are feeling is your fault. 

The men never explain why they want you, just that they need to have you. It had been their goal for years, getting you in their grasp. 

Another fitful night of sleep passes followed by another nightmare and pain filled day. There is however an obvious shift on that second full day. While you’re all once again taken three times, the boys are brought back after only a few minutes. Their time with the men dwindles, and yours gets longer. 

That evening they take you for nearly two full hours. You know what they want. They’re searching for your breaking point. You refuse to let them find it. They give up out of sheer frustration and throw you back in the room. 

No matter what you’d experienced the last few days, you always landed on your feet. 

Until now. 

You stumble, falling into Zayn. He catches you and gently lays you on the ground. He goes to pull away, knowing you don’t like to be touched, but you grip his shirt in your fists. 

Zayn looks at you questioningly and you murmur, “Stay. Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t, I’ve got you,” he replies. He turns to Liam next to him and says, “Help me get her settled. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Of course, what do you need?” Liam says, altering you to his presence beside you. One of your hands releases Zayn and instead reaches out for Liam. 

“Do you want us to lay down with you?” Liam asks. 

A weak nod is all you can manage, but it’s enough. Zayn settles on one side of you with Liam on the other. 

Louis kneels by your head, and you look at his upside down face hovering above you. “Can we check your injuries, love? Please?” 

You can hear the concern in his voice so you nod once more. Giving them permission to see the extent of the beatings you’ve taken is the last thing you want to do. 

But you’re exhausted. And scared. And in so much pain. 

It’s time to take the wall down. It’s time to let them in, let them take care of you. 

Louis starts with what’s visible on your face. There isn’t much there, but he wipes away the bit of blood on your cheek. 

“Can Harry lift your shirt to check your belly?” Louis asks and you nod again. 

You hear a chorus of gasps as your shirt is moved. You don’t need to look to know it’s not a pretty sight. 

“This isn’t good,” Harry says quietly. His hand brushes one of the bruises and you cry out in pain. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Y/N, this is bad. Like, I think you have internal injuries,” Harry states. 

“Who made you a doctor?” You quip weakly. 

“Don’t need to be one to know a serious injury,” Niall says. “What have they done to you?” His voice is laced with horror and sadness, and you start to zone out. You know you’ve taken a beating, can feel it all over. But hearing the boy's reactions to it is even worse. Makes it more real. 

Harry and Niall continue to check your body, wiping any blood they see and pressing cool water bottles to some of the worst bruises. But you don’t react anymore, choosing instead to turn your head and tuck into Liam.

Louis pets through your hair gently and Zayn holds your hand, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. You focus on these touches and drift off to sleep. 

You startle awake the next morning, and the first thing you notice is that you’re surrounded by the boys. It makes you feel warm, safe. 

And then you realize who else is in the room. 

“This looks cozy,” says the man. You still don’t know their names, but you do know their temperaments. This one doesn’t hit as hard physically, but he knows how to attack you emotionally. “So sweet of them to comfort you, Y/N. Especially considering why you’re all here.”

It’s a brutal reminder, one the others don’t understand but you do. The guilt sets back in, and you do your best to move away from the boys. You don’t deserve to be taken care of, and last night's moment of weakness can’t happen again. 

“Actually, why don’t we have a little chat, make sure you remember the details of the situation,” he adds. 

“Y/N, what is he talking about?” Liam asks, but you play dumb, giving a confused shrug in reply. 

“Good act,” the man says. “Let’s go,” he adds as he moves in to grab you. The boys move to block him, but you go around them. Maybe letting the men hurt you will ease the guilt of putting your friends in this situation. You feel even worse after showing such weakness last night. 

So you follow the man, bracing yourself for the hours of pain you’re about to endure. 

But what happens next is worse than you can imagine. There’s no pain, they don’t hit or punch or kick this time. They don’t even throw you to the ground like usual. They’re gentle. Sure, it’s not painful. But the feeling of their hands dragging along every part of your body practically burns you. Makes you want to vomit, right on them. If you do, maybe they’ll stop. Maybe they won’t keep touching you in places no one should be. 

Before you can do that, they all back away. “We’re thinking of letting the others go,” one of the men says. It takes you a minute to comprehend that he’s talking, and when you finally understand, you look at him in confusion. “That got your attention huh?”

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“We really only wanted you, remember? We have another house. We’ll be taking you there tonight. The other five will be left behind. We’ll send a message to your security tomorrow so they can come rescue them. You will be long gone when that happens. Isn’t that nice, though? Your friends will be okay. You should be happy, they’re in this mess because of you. And now they’ll be free. Don’t you want that?”

Knowing they want an answer, you nod curtly. And you do want the boys to be free, to be safe. But they’ve been a comfort to you these past days, and the selfish part of you wants them to stay. You can endure what these horrible men throw at you because you have a safe place to return to, even if it is a tiny, gross room. At least you have friends with you.

But you can’t think like that. If they have a way out, of course they need to take it. Even if it means you’ll never get away. That these horrible people will be able to continue doing whatever they want to you. That will be your punishment for endangering your friends. 

“Enjoy the day with them,” says the man as he begins leading you back to the room. “It’s the last time you’ll ever see them.” With that he opens the door and guides you inside before leaving you alone with the others. 

They’re quickly at your side, obviously wanting to comfort you like they had the night before, but you hold out your hands, indicating you want space. 

“Y/N,” Niall starts, “Please let us help with your new injuries.”

“I don’t have any,” you reply.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks.

“They didn’t touch you this time?” Louis says next.

“I didn’t say that,” you state sardonically. 

“I don’t understand,” Zayn adds.

It’s quiet for a moment as you take a deep breath. Finally you look up, your eyes meeting Liam’s. It’s clear the second he understands what happens, his gentle, worried expression shifting to anger.

“I’m going to fucking kill them,” he exclaims, startling all of you.

“What the fuck just happened?” Niall asks.

“They touched her,” Liam says, his voice practically a growl. This time the rest do understand, horror, anger, and pity on their faces. Harry and Zayn move closer, obviously wanting to comfort you, but you cannot have that right now. “Please, don’t,” you say and they all step back further, giving you space.

Louis grows more agitated, walking to the door and saying, “Liam has the right idea, they can’t fucking get away with this.” He grabs the door handle forcefully, fully expecting it to be locked like normal, and gets thrown back when it simply opens. 

The six of you stand there, shocked and confused, and Louis slowly and carefully closes the door again. 

“The moron forgot to lock it?” Niall asks.

“Seems so,” Liam replies. 

“Was anyone out there?” Harry asks.

Louis silently peeks out again, confirming the basement is in fact empty. 

“There’s a window,” Liam says. “They opened it one time when I was with them. Guys, it’s a way out.”

“And then what?” Zayn asks. 

“Then we fucking run for our lives, that’s what,” Louis says.

“They have guns, Lou. What if they’re out there waiting for us?” Harry adds.

“At this point we have to take the risk. We’ve been here for days. What if they never let us go? What if no one finds us? We have no other way out,” Louis answers.

“Yes you do,” you interject.

They all look at you questioningly. You take a deep breath, knowing you need to tell them the truth. That way they won’t risk their lives on this insane break out plan. “It’s my fault you’re all here. They didn’t want you. Just me. But they couldn’t get me alone so they took all of us. Tonight they’re taking me to another location, and tomorrow they’ll tell security where you are and you’ll be rescued. You have a way out, please don’t get hurt now.”

There’s another moment of silence while they process this information. 

“Right, okay, we’re going. Now.” Harry says.

“Didn’t you hear me? You’ll be safe!” 

“Do you think we can just leave you with them?” Liam asks. “No way. We’re all going or no one is.”

“We’re not leaving you behind. That’s insane,” Niall says. 

“Please don’t be stupid,” you implore them.

“You’re the stupid one if you think we’d go without you,” Louis retorts. 

“This is my fault-”

Zayn cuts you off saying, “Y/N, this is not your fault. I don’t know what those awful people told you, but they are the only ones to blame. You did not do this to us.”

“But they-”

Liam is the one to interject this time, “They are terrible people who do terrible things. For all you know they’re lying to you to manipulate you. They could be lying about letting us go.”

You hadn’t thought of that. When you don’t speak right away Louis takes his chance to explain what little plan he has. 

“We just have to run for it. The window is pretty high. Liam you go first, then Zayn. Harry and I will help Y/N. Harry, you're tallest, you’ll be able to reach the best so you’ll go last. Once we’re free, run. We need to find a person or a house where we can call for help. Everyone got it?”

The rest of you nod. Louis peeks out one more time to make sure the coast is clear, then you all spring into action. The first step of the plan goes shockingly well. You’re all full of adrenaline, and getting through the window without a problem fills you with hope. 

After a few minutes of running you start thinking you might actually be in the clear. 

The adrenaline wears off. 

And the full pain of your injuries comes back. 

Running becomes harder, every inhale burning not only your lungs but your whole torso. There’s blood soaking your clothes, and you have no idea if you’ve exacerbated a previous injury or gotten a new one. 

You gasp, stumbling and nearly falling to the ground. Liam catches you, encouraging you to keep going, but it’s like your brain and body are no longer connected. As much as you try, you can’t keep going. 

Liam senses this and puts his arm around you, helping you stay upright and continue moving forward. 

There’s a house up ahead, the obvious destination. You’re close, and then you hear the noise behind you. 

The van that you’d been in when this all started is barreling towards your group. They’ve nearly caught up, and you feel like just giving in, admitting defeat. 

But Liam won’t let you. “Everyone just keep going!” He yells. 

A figure runs out of the house up ahead, followed by at least 20 others. All in uniform. All armed. 

You’re scared at first, not knowing if they’re there to help you or help your captors. And then you see him. Paul Higgins. Your true guardian angel. 

The van has stopped following, now surrounded by law enforcement, but the six of you can’t stop. Can’t understand that the danger is gone. 

Paul, along with a few other members of your normal security team surround you to check if you’re okay. The boys assure them that they only have minor injuries, all saying the same thing: “Help Y/N,” “Y/N’s hurt”, “Y/N needs help”. 

The next thing you know, Paul is reaching for you, picking you up and cradling you to him. “You’re safe now,” he says quietly, and you start to believe that. 

He carries you towards the house, explaining that they’d gotten a tip the night before and were searching the area, the homeowner allowing them to use the place as a base of operations. 

You hear sirens growing louder, and multiple ambulances pull up. Seeing this, Niall says “Paul really, we’re okay. They really only focused on Y/N. We’ve just got some scrapes.”

“You’ll all be going to the hospital and getting checked by a doctor. No exceptions.”

“Yes, dad,” Louis says, but it doesn’t have the normal teasing tone. At this moment, you’re all very grateful for this man you call your tour dad. 

When Paul goes to set you down on a stretcher you begin to panic, clutching his shirt the way you had with Zayn the night before. 

“I’m not leaving you, I promise. But you have to let them take care of you so you can get better,” he says. 

It’s hard to let go but you do manage. As promised Paul stays by your side the whole time. The ambulance ride feels forever, and the longer you lay unmoving, the more pain you feel. 

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel Paul gently wipe tears off your face. You turn to look at him and he gives you a sad smile, saying “I know sweetheart. It’s all over now. I’ve got you.”

He’s able to hold your hand, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. It’s the last thing you’re aware of before your world turns black.

The first time you wake up, there’s chaos around you. Doctors yelling about internal injuries and needing scans, nurses hooking you up to different wires and tubes. A doctor gives another order, and something is pushed through your IV, and once again everything fades away.

The next time you wake is much calmer. You’re in a patient room, your body wrapped in gauze. Paul is sitting beside your bed, once again holding your hand. This time you squeeze his, and he looks up, clearly relieved to see your eyes open. 

He tells you about your injuries, the treatments and surgery you went through, and how you’ll be in the hospital for a few days before needing to recover at home for weeks. 

“What about the boys?” is your first question.

“They’re okay. Minor injuries. Doctors are keeping them overnight to be safe but they should all be released tomorrow,” Paul answers.

“Good. I’m glad they weren’t hurt.”

“Louis told me you think this is your fault.”

“It is. They were all taken because of me.”

“Sweetheart, you need to know that’s not the truth. We found a letter from them, after they took you all, and it was clear they always planned to take the whole band.  You are not to blame. You didn’t do anything or make anything happen.”

“It’s not my fault?” You ask. 

“It is not your fault,” he says, his voice strong and sure. 

“It’s not my fault,” you say. 

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he answers as he strokes the hair out of your face. 

A moment later a few nurses and doctors enter. They tell you the injuries you sustained and what they’re doing to treat them. They ask questions that you do your best to answer. Finally they finish taking vitals and leave once more. You’re grateful, as you’ve started to feel tired again. 

“Sleep, I’ll be here all night,” Paul says. With that reassurance, you close your eyes and immediately fall asleep. 

The next time you wake up the clock on your table reads 7:12am. You’d slept almost ten full hours. As promised Paul is there, sleeping uncomfortably on the couch. 

There’s a nurse in the room, and she smiles when she sees you watching her. 

“Good morning, I’m just going to take your vitals,” she says. When she finishes that she and another nurse help you to the restroom, and you're glad your injuries haven’t completely bedridden you. You’re given a light breakfast, and while you don’t have the biggest appetite, you do enjoy a little hot food after days of nothing but granola bars. 

After you’ve eaten, the doctor comes to check on you, making sure you’re doing well and changing some of the bandages. 

You’ve been awake a couple hours when Paul gets an update. 

“Louis and Zayn are getting discharged now,” he says. 

“What about the others?” 

“Should be later today. Apparently their doc was called away before he could get to everyone so they need to wait a bit.”

“Are Louis and Zayn leaving?” 

“We’re figuring that out.”

“Can I see them?” 

“I think I can make that happen. Are you alright here for a few minutes if I go help the boys?”

While you don’t want him to leave, you know the others need him as well so you say, “Yea, I’ll be okay. I’m kind of tired again, can I sleep?”

“Of course you can, darling. Get your rest, it’ll help you heal. I promise I won’t be far, and Ryan is right outside if you need anyone.”

You do feel better knowing Ryan is there, since he’s basically Paul’s second in command. 

Without realizing you’ve even fallen asleep the next thing you’re aware of is voices around you. 

“She’s really going to be okay?” You hear Zayn ask worriedly. 

“She’s going to be fine. It’ll take some time for her to heal but she’ll make a full recovery,” Paul explains. 

“You’re sure?” Niall asks, his voice unsteady. 

“I’m sure. The doctors said she’ll be okay. And you know her, she’s strong.”

Strong. The word most used to describe you. But you don’t feel that way right now. You were hurt, bruised and bloodied. You don’t want to be strong anymore. 

“Can I be done?” You ask. 

They boys all turn to you, gathering by your bedside now that you’ve woken up. 

“What was that? We didn’t hear what you said,” Liam asks. 

“I want to be done,” you reply. 

“Done with what, love?” Louis questions. 

“Being strong. I don’t wanna be strong right now.”

“That’s okay,” Louis answers. “You don’t have to be. Lean on us.”

“Yea, we’ll take care of you!” Niall adds. 

“Thank you. I’m just so tired.”

“I know. You’ve fought hard, now you can rest,” Zayn says. 

You smile softly at them, and then realize someone’s missing. 

“Where’s Harry?” You ask, your voice laced with panic as your heart rate skyrockets. 

“He’s okay!” Louis quickly assures you. “He just needed one extra test before they could discharge him.”

“Why? What was the test?”

Liam answers this time, explaining, “His oxygen was a bit low when they brought us in yesterday so they’re making sure everything’s fine. Which it is. It was just low because of his asthma and all the running we did. He’s fine. He’ll be here soon.”

As though being summoned, Harry walks in a moment later. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, rushing to your side when he sees how upset you are. 

You take a deep breath, relieved to have all five of your boys with you. 

“Don’t leave me. Please,” you beg.

“We won’t,” Harry replies. “We’re all here. We’re all sticking together. We promise. Right?”

The others all nod, Harry and Niall each holding your hands to reassure you with comforting contact. 

For the rest of your hospital stay, they keep their promise to the best of their ability. None of them are allowed to stay overnight, but all five of them are there with you during every minute that visitors are welcomed. 

When you’re finally discharged, you go to the house the boys have been staying at. Of course their families all wanted them to go back to their respective homes, but they couldn’t bear to be away from you. 

Your parents also hoped you’d be coming home while you recovered, but it would feel strange to go back there. You’re not the same person you were the last time you left. You just can’t go back just yet, not when so much has changed. 

So the six of you, along with Paul and a few other security guards, all live together for the months following the incident. You’re given your own room, but you rarely spend a night alone. At first someone was staying with you in case you needed help at night while you continued to recover from your physical injuries.

They kept taking turns staying with you when it became clear your nightmares wouldn’t go away. The couple of nights that you did spend by yourself you’d woken up screaming and crying, calling out for the boys, panicking that they were gone. 

From then on they had a rotation on who would stay with you. Having one of them in your bed often kept the bad dreams away, and when the nightmares did happen, whoever was there could quickly calm and reassure you that everything was okay. 

After seven months of recovery and planning, it’s finally time to restart tour. Your emotions are going wild leading up to that first show, but the second you get on stage, you feel alive again. For months you hid away, leaning on your bandmates and truly feeling like a diminished version of yourself. 

You’d needed that in order to heal. Letting yourself be vulnerable allowed for others to help build you back up. 

And now you feel like yourself again. You know this experience will stick with you forever, and you’ll be dealing with the mental impacts of this for years to come. But you also know that Harry, Liam, Niall, Louis, and Zayn will always be there for you whenever you need them. 

You turn towards them at the end of the show, right before final bows, and find them all watching you, their faces full of admiration, awe, and love.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you for reading!

After everything that happened recently I knew I needed to give Paul Higgins a moment in the spotlight.

[aceofwhump]

I haven't been able to come on here properly in SO LONG! I miss my laptop 😭😭

So my week, month, year hasn't been great. Bloody awful actually. And my energy levels are at like a 1 out of 10 right now. Hence why my presence here has been rather nonexistent. Well that and my broken laptop. How is everyone else doing? Y'all doing all right? I know things have especially been rough lately for my fellow USA peeps. That alone has had a huge effect on my poor mental state right now. Is everyone doing all right? And if you aren't doing all that great right now, I'm sending you a big hug 🫂💙

I've been thinking about things I can do on here while I save up money for a new laptop (come on black friday deals come on). No gifs and fic rec lists are easier to make on desktops than my phone so both of those things are out. What about this or that's? Pick your favorite tropes or scenarios? What if I just shared my favorite whumpy scenarios? I do have some likes to queue as well. And asks to answer. But what would you all like to see from me? Low energy things I can do.

And what's happening in the whump community right now? Tell me everything. What's the big tag right now? What's everyone watching? Has there been any good whump that I've missed because I can't seem to get myself to watch anything brand new and instead am rewatching shows I've seen 10,000 times?

Anyways, I miss you guys and I want to come back and be the bigger presence I usually am. Love you guys! 😘

[sapphicflower-ao3]

what are ur personal favorite fics? i can be a bit picky and have a hard time finding fics but i love ur writing and i feel like we might have similar tastes based on that :3

i'm sorry it took me like a week to get to this!! i wanted to compile my faves and write notes for each of them... and i went overboard LOL. but thanks so much omg, i'm flattered that you would trust my taste based on my writing!

these are all bkdk obviously :)

i. 'In Case of Fire' - passengerside

post-canon // complete // 11K // E

an absolute MASTERPIECE!!! this author has become a recent favourite of mine, i love the way they incorporate little details into their work and make the mundane so beautiful.

highly recommend all of their other works, especially 'Pacemaker'! so freaking beautiful and fun and the lead up to the confession was a genuine holding-my-breath moment

ii. 'Sun Hands' - yesthisisnarumi

snowboarding AU // complete // 5K // T

i've re-read this one so many times it's SOOOOO good! so fun and so classically bkdk it's insane. everybody say thank you OP for giving us the rival olympic champions to lovers story we needed

iii. 'all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing' - maxisnotokay

UA compliant // complete // 11K // T

i dont usually read a lot of whump but this was brilliant, im a sucker for this specific trope and for LOVE CONFESSIONS YEASS!!! obvi it has a happy ending bc i wouldnt have it any other way. a good length too :)

iv. 'Spinnin' On Our Feet' - sage_and_cinnamon

High School AU // ongoing // 47K // M

UNDERRATED AS FUCK and my favourite ongoing fic right now. i usually dont read jock x nerd AUs but this fic is so brilliantly funny and charming and heartwarming and it blew all my expectations out of the water and then some. i've been following it for ages and it's been on hiatus for a good while, but it updated recently and when i tell you it was the best day of my freaking life...

v. 'In Perfect Rhythm' - chalk

Band AU // complete // 50K // E

yes how surprising, a band AU fic in my faves list. anyway shut up, chalk is literally godlike in their writing and this fic was SO FUN and scratched all the itches. nothing gets me going more than awkwardly endearing izuku n rockstar katsuki

vi. 'Last Days of War' - antisora

Pacific Rim AU // complete // 44K // M

GENUINELY ONE OF HUMANITY'S BEST PIECES OF LITERATURE???? fuck. i never have the proper words for this fic, but it is SO gripping and the worldbuilding is so tight and their relationship development is so good and the CLIMAX OF THIS HAS BEEN MORE EPIC THAN HALF THE BLOCKBUSTERS I'VE SEEN. i beg you to read this even if you have never watched Pacific Rim. or maybe go watch the movie and get EDUCATED and then read this! i'm begging you, dear reader!!

vii. 'Ingenium' - crandberrycrush

Astronauts AU // complete // 85K // E

guys i love sci-fi sorry lol. this one is another brilliant fic. OP put so much blood, sweat and tears into research and it shows, it is just very intelligent and the plot itself is HEART RACING and GUTTING and THRILLING. there's a lot of POVs and it really fleshes it out, tho ofc bkdk is the main thing. happy ending obvi! it is the space/astronaut drama that i love and adore, just BKDKified now!

viii. 'The Magic in a Mirror' - totallyrottentomatoes

Magic/Circus AU // complete // 80K // E

oh how surprising, a totallyrottentomaoes fic in my faves list. anyone who knows me knows that i rec this fic all the time. it's one of my all time favourites, if not my favourite of all time lol, and it's really because of the writing and the imagery and the characterisation and the relationships b/w all the characters. it's all just so well done and MAGICAL. no joke, if i could print and bind a fic into a book, it would be this one. no notes. perfection. caters to my tastes so specifically. i could go on about this fic forever but i'll shut up for now

also highly recommend 'The Distance Between Suns' by this author - it's a high fantasy epic with TIGHT AS FUCK worldbuilding, brilliantly written, the romance is BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN, the payoffs are amazing, etc... this deserves to be published and revered

ix. 'Battle of the Bands' - roadtripwithlucifer

Band AU // complete // 168K // E

look i know i always rec this fic, i just can't help that it's like my favourite thing ever. roadtripwithlucifer and totallyrottentomatoes my BELOVEDS. the humour in this fic is so fucking yummy and brilliant, the writing is gorgeous in typical roadtrip fashion, the stakes are gripping, the climax is thrilling, the romance n yearning is INTENSE, the sex is hot as hell, the ending is so satisfying, just..... the whole package.

and while you're here, read other roadtripwithlucifer works like 'Nothing Else Fills' if you feel like destroying your heart :) an angsty and beautifully written time-travel-to-save-my-kacchan-gone-wrong war AU fic. i love OP's works but her more recent fics (eg. after battle of the bands) have had some of her best writing. i adore it when you can feel how an author has poured their soul into their work, you can always feel it in a roadtripwithlucifer work and it's just the cherry on top

x. 'Scar Tissue' - Loriqod

canon-compliant // complete // 18K // E

loriqod is another author with a characterisation that i fuck with so hard... this one was so full of that Yearning and Tension that i so vibe with. bonus points to the plots focus on bkdk's scars like yes pls more of that <3

anyway i might make a part 2 some other time, these are just the ones i grabbed from my public bookmarks. i have a lot of private ones and some of them i forgot to make public oops

hope u find smth u enjoy!

[cripplecharacters]

Followup question to an ask I sent, idk maybe a month ago, about how yall feel about the whump or hurt/comfort community/genre and their approach to plots that often involve some kind of disability. My new question is a bit more meta. What is the most respectful way to interact with posts we wish to save/share/reference for realism in whump writing? What's the rule of thumb tagging guide?

I know #disabled-whumpee instead of clogging support tags for tagging actual fics, but what about reference posts? Would it be considered rude to reblog an irl disability post onto my whump writing blog as #irl-disability or the like?

I believe that adding realism to fics is good for multiple reasons, but I worry saving posts like that to reference would be considered trivializing real struggles.

Also I don't know if I said it in my first ask, If there's anything overall you would like to see handled better, I would like to hear your opinion. I don't approach this genre with disability rep as the goal but I understand that bad representation can be harmful whether it was meant as rep or not. By nature disabled whumpees often fall into the disabled by trauma trope, and because of that I want to limit any other disrespect or harm I could be perpetuating.

Hey,

I'm sure that a lot of disabled people won't care, but just don't. Don't use real people's venting or talking about their disability or ableism they experience as some sort of angst inspo. That's what writing resources are for, and I know well that there are a lot of them in the whump space because a lot of them reblog from us. I know that some people in that space also talked about this topic before.

I know a lot of people in the disability space on this app that loathe having to deal with this - you're talking about your chronic pain, hoping to see more people like you and instead of fellow chronic pain havers your tags are full of writers using you as some sort of “how to hurt my oc” reference.

Whether you make a mental note of something that you read is a different thing that no one can logistically stop you from doing. But don't go around telling random disabled people that you're using their experience for your blorbos-in-pain fanfic.

The real way to get writing advice about disability is to pay a disabled person to be a sensitivity reader. Don't use random people who didn't sign up for this as a free alternative.

mod Sasza

[songforeddiemunson]

Haunting in Blackwood Hollow

An Eddie Munson x F!Reader Miniseries

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

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

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

Chapter One: Steve's Big Mistake

Chapter warnings: naughty language, mentions of drinking, weed use. This is largely setting the scene babes. Author's Note: Submission for @stcreators Event 5: Dynamics Submission for @somnambulic-thing, @allthingsjoeq, and @bettyfrommars event: strangerprompts (#14) {Okay so I took a bit of liberty with the prompt, but that's just how my brain wanted to do it! You know how that goes. ;) }

Word Count: ~2K

You swore under your breath as the taxi pulled away, leaving you staring at the monstrosity you were meant to be staying in for the weekend.

“This is the last time I leave that jackass in charge of anything,” you muttered, prompting a snort from Eddie, who stood beside you.

You liked Steve. Loved him even, in the way that friends that have known each other for years did, who’d seen each other at their worst, thick as thieves, none of that ‘will they or won’t they’ shit, especially after you started seeing Eddie. But in that moment, you could strangle him.

Most of your group of friends had scattered to the four corners of the country, so when you all received your invitations to Joyce Byers’ and Jim Hopper’s wedding in the Smoky Mountains, you decided to rent a whole house instead of getting hotel rooms. Correction: Steve came up with the idea to rent a house, and admittedly it was a good plan. It would likely be cheaper to pool your resources, and you could all hang out in the common areas and catch up.

And then you saw the house.

It was a stereotype in peeling paint and dilapidated wood. The porch was creaky and appeared to be on the verge of collapse. Gnarled old vines and weeds encroached from every direction; you thought maybe it had been landscaped last sometime in the 1960s. A broken old fountain sat on the front lawn, with a scummy green puddle of rainwater gathered at the bottom, and there was a broken gate that hung loose on its hinges near the drive.

Eddie tilted his head in a manner reminiscent of a terrier as he surveyed the old structure. “I think it looks kinda cool, like that house in IT. The house on Neibolt Street, remember?”

You blinked at your paramour. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend the weekend in a house like that. It’s one thing to read about it in a spooky story, it’s another thing to actually sleep there.” He had the good grace to laugh at that sentiment.

“Fair enough,” he conceded.

Of all the houses in Asheville, Tennessee, THIS is the one he chooses? You thought bitterly as you made your way up the walkway toward the porch, stepping carefully on the worn wood and looking for nails that could be lying in wait to impale your foot.

You had no idea if anyone else had already arrived, and whether you were supposed to knock or just walk in. You had decided to try the former, but your knuckles hadn’t had a chance to make contact with the wood before the door was whipped open, revealing a clearly exasperated Robin.

“Omigosh you’re here!” she cried joyfully as she threw her arms around you. You let your weekend bag drop to the porch as you reciprocated the hug.

“Robin! I’m so glad to see you!” you cooed as you gave her a good squeeze then released her. “But what the hell is this house?”

“Right?! I feel like it’s right out of a Scoobie Doo episode or something. Talk about creepy. Eddie! Hi!”

“I’ve seen worse,” a deeper voice intoned from out of eyesight, shortly before Steve stepped into the foyer.

“Steve! It’s lovely to see you, but what the fuck?” you scolded.

Steve’s expression was so sheepish that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“I know, I know,” he moaned, before putting his face in his hands.

“Come here and hug me, loser. I haven’t seen you in almost two years and you’re gonna make me sleep in the house from Amityville Horror?”

“Hey now,” Robin countered, “The Amityville Horror house was waaay nicer than this.”

“True. Eddie said it looked like the house from IT.”

“Oooh yes! That fits,” Robin said.

“What’s that? It?” Steve asked, never one to embrace pop culture.

You hugged Steve despite wanting to hurt him a little bit. “Nevermind. So what were you thinking with this house?”

“Okay so in my defense the pictures were much nicer in the Want Ad, and in black and white. I didn’t realize it was going to be so…”

“Shabby?” you offered while Robin said “terrifying” at the same time.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a shrug.

Eddie chuckled as he hugged his friends by way of greeting.  “Alright well, as long as the bed is clean, I don't really care,” he said. “This one is scared of spiders,” he said, gesturing toward you. 

“I am not, you are!” you yelled.

“I am NOT afraid of spiders,” Eddie replied defensively. “It’s those fucking centipede things with all the legs. I hate those things.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure there are plenty of things in this house to trigger all our phobias.”

The interior was a little less gloomy than its exterior, but that wasn’t saying much. The common room in which you were standing was decorated in 50 year-old wallpaper that was peeling and yellowing. The floors were hard wood but hadn’t been refinished since the wallpaper was installed, and the dusty old upholstery was flat and worn around the edges. 

“Where are we sleeping, anyway?”

“There’s three bedrooms, one with a queen and two with a pair of singles. I figured we could draw straws or someth–”

“Dibs on the queen!” Eddie shouted.

“Eddie, we have to–” you began.

“Nah babe. We’re a couple, and we got here first. You snooze, you lose.”

“I think that’s fair,” Robin said with a shrug.

“Nancy and Jonathan won’t love that,” Steve said. “But you can fight it out amongst yourselves. I’m staying out of it. Looks like you’re bunking with me, Robin.”

“I don’t care, as long as you don’t snore.”

Nancy and Jonathan arrived about an hour later, and while they weren’t thrilled to be relegated to a pair of twin beds, they conceded that Eddie did in fact call dibs.

“I feel like we’re eighteen again,” Nancy laughed as she explored the kitchen for a clean glass for water. “Calling dibs and bunking up together. Feels like old times.”

“It does,” you agreed from where you were leaning against the counter. “I don’t know if I would use any of the dishes in this house though.”

“I might just make a store run, get some solo cups and paper plates,” she said as she put one grimy glass back in the cupboard with a look of distaste. “Any requests?”

“Oooh, cheez-its, snapple peach tea, pizza pretzel combos…”

“PBR,” Eddie contributed as he sidled up next to you and bent to give you a quick peck on the lips.

“Well of course,” Nancy said with a smile. “Can’t forget the beer.”

Robin poked her head into the room. “Grab a couple of pizzas! I’ll give you cash.”

You all pitched in for the snacks and sent Nancy on her way as the sun began its descent behind the trees. The rest of you gathered in the living room to figure out what to do for the night.

“Care for a toke?” Eddie asked, as he held up a joint he pulled from his jacket and set it alight.

“Yessss,” Jonathan replied with enthusiasm, leaning forward to pinch the little joint between his fingers.

“That didn’t take long,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

“Lighten up, Harrington,” Jonathan said in a fragrant plume of exhalation, stifling a cough. “You could probably use this more than the rest of us. You’re too wound up.” 

“It’s true Steve, why are you always so stressed out?” you asked, taking a pull from the joint.

“I don’t know, I just feel like I’m the responsible one–” he began, but was cut off by a chorus of jeers and naysaying.

“You think you’re the responsible one, but everyone knows it’s Nancy,” Robin said, laughing.

“Yeah man, like…the King Steve days are over, you can stop trying so hard,” Eddie added with a grin.

“Okay, okay, I get it…” Steve said, accepting his ribbing with a modicum of grace. His voice trailed off, however, as his attention was pulled in another direction. “Hey what’s that?”

“What?” you and Jonathan asked at the same time, following his gaze. 

“It’s on top of that bookshelf…” he began, already getting up and walking toward it. He had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach it, and pulled it down, unleashing a cloud of dust and grime.

“What is it?” Eddie asked.

Steve brushed the dust off the cover before looking up at you with wide eyes. 

“It’s a ouija board,” he said.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said, laughing. "You can't be serious."

“What! No, no thank you!” Robin yelled.

“I dunno man, you might want to put that back and pretend you never saw it,” Jonathan added with a smirk.

“What, nah, that stuff isn’t real,” you said.

“No, it’s not,” Steve agreed. “It’s just a silly game.”

“If it’s just a silly game,” Eddie taunted, "why don’t we take it for a spin?”

“Oh man, no, don’t give him any ideas,” Robin piped in with her trademarked ‘mile-a-minute’ cadence. “Did you see the movie Witchboard? Well I did, and I didn’t sleep for a week afterward. Too scary for me. And it’s kinda weird that that thing just shows up in the spookiest house I’ve ever seen, and we’re in the middle of nowhere and…”

“What’s Witchboard?” Steve asked.

“Dude, watch a movie…” Eddie moaned while Jonathan doubled-over laughing.

Steve laid the box down on the coffee table. “Well, just because there was a movie about these things doesn’t make them real. The Princess Bride isn’t exactly real either.”

Eddie gasped with mock incredulity. “It’s NOT?”

“Have fun NOT storming the castle I guess,” Jonathan tried to say without laughing, which came out as a choked squeal.

“Inconceivable!” you yelled, making the entire room erupt in hearty laughter and dispelling some of the unease that had grown since the discovery of the ouija board.

“Jesus guys, are you that stoned already?” Steve asked with a smile.

“Eddie only buys the good stuff,” you said.

“Zero to zooted within three hits, or your money back,” Eddie said before taking another pull from the joint.

“Good to know,” Steve said sarcastically. “So are you guys gonna play with this thing or not?”

“Fine fine,” you said. “Eddie, let’s do this.”

He agreed, and you sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table. You opened the box, took out its contents, and each placed the index finger of your right hand gently on the planchette. You sat silent for a moment, not doing or saying anything, unsure of where to begin.

“Uhhhh,” Eddie said before dissolving into giggles.

“Ask it something!” Robin whispered, leaning forward in her excitement.

“Okay, uh…” you began, pausing to think. “Is there anybody here with us right now?”

It seemed like the entire room held its breath with anticipation.

“Is there anyone here in this house?” you repeated.

The silence ticked onward.

“Well this is thrilling,” Jonathan said with a snort.

“Give it a minute,” Steve said.

“Thought you didn’t believe in this stuff, Stevarino,” Eddie teased.

“I don’t, but–”

You thought you felt the planchette move ever so slightly. 

“Wait!” you gasped. “Did you feel that?”

“No, wait. Maybe?” Eddie whispered.

You sat motionless for a beat, but nothing happened. You began to think that it was your imagination when…

….suddenly the front door banged open with a loud smash, and every single person in the room screamed like a banshee.

“Jesus, guys!” Nancy said as she struggled to hold several brown paper grocery bags. “A little help here?”

“Oh fuck, sorry babe,” Jonathan said, and the rest of you sheepishly got up to help, leaving the ouija board on the table. You bustled into the kitchen to put things away and pop open cans of beer, laughing about the silly jump scare you’d all just shared.

What none of you saw, however, was the planchette on the ouija board slide over to ‘hello.’

To Be Continued...

Sorry this one is short, but I needed to get it out. More is coming! As always, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of every fic writer!

PART TWO MASTERLIST

[muchmossymess]

A Revali Fanfic Recommendation

I urge you all to put your life on hold for a moment and go read this brilliant fanfiction:

A hundred years after the fall of Hyrule to Calamity Ganon, and the hero Link has finally sealed the darkness and freed the Divine Beasts of their curse - and with it, their pilots are finally free. But not just as spirits. Awake once again, the four Champions of old have a second chance at life and must re-adjust to this future world with their decendants. Well - all except for one Champion, who doesn't have a decentant. Or even anyone left alive that knew him. Teba is happy to take in his revived ancient idol as one of his own, but sharing a living space with a hundred year old Champion with an ego the size of his divine beast and who might have some issues he's not willing to share can be a lot sometimes and they don't always see eye to eye. Revali thinks he should return to leading the new generation of Rito warriors. Teba thinks this actual child should never have been leading warriors or fighting a war in the first place. Tulin is just excited to have the infamous Rito Champion in his house.

Beautifully written and lovingly crafted, this baby can fit so much trauma and whump into the most gut-wrenching and heat-breakingly found family story you may ever read. 130,000 words, 36 chapters (and still regularly updating!), and a CRIMINALLY low number of kudos. If that doesn't sway you, here is some gushing under the cut <3

You think you've read a champions revival fic before? This will have you saying "how the FUCK have I not seen this before" and completely change the way you view everything (mild exaggeration. m i l d). We have all of your favourite revali tropes: being a dick and getting owned, being a dick and being right, getting own and never showing those feelings to the light of day, getting killed, getting unkilled and loved, showing emotions but being super weird and revali about it, bonding with tulin!!, bonding with teba and the rest of rito village, bonding with the champions, having panic attacks and trauma, vah medoh being the best ever, being a terrifying force of nature, being an idiot kid, and so much more!

Do you like grumpy dad teba? Do you like revali swallowing his pride? Do you like revali immediately spitting his pride back up and being a bitchy bird? Do you like mipha and revali as gossip buddies? Do you like the complete and utter fool revali makes of himself everytime he so much as hears the name link? Do you like people seeing right through his facade and calling him out on it?

AND NOT TO MENTION THE WORLD BUILDING??? this fic is so in depth of the political climates, racism, lore, changes in culture during times of war, colonisation, biology of the races and just fucking everything?? It adds so much life to the world of hyrule I am genuinely shocked at how much this person clearly loves these games (botw/totk/aoc) and they are able to incorporate all of this amazing information in a way that flows so naturally and just hhrnngngg I am fucking insane about it. THE SCIENCE, oh my god how did I forget all the wonderous thoughts surrounding the divine beasts and the sheikah tech, oh god and how they write the magic system? Guys I swear it's so good.

Characterisation is on point, everyone feels so full of life and that they are reacting exactly how you would expect them too, and they just seem so real, like they are right beside you as you're reading. The author does an IMMACULATE job of drawing you in and making you feel a part of the story, all the while being just beautifully written?

Don't get me started on the attention to rito culture. I have never seen someone pour so much love into something before, genuinely on of the greatest things I've seen. I've always had a fascination over how the races of hyrule view each other, similarities and differences, how their cultures and histories intertwine, and conflicts that may arise. But oh. my. god. My jaw was on the floor every time, it's so rich and beautiful but not without the horrors (and oh god, they are Horrors tm) and again it's just so real!!!

Be warned, however, that there is gore and viscera and terror and hurt and war crimes and death (duh), but for each terrible thing to happen it is repaid tenfold in love and kindness somewhere down the line. (Unless you are into hurt no comfort, then sorry buddy!) It is a beautiful narrative and the exploration of trauma and self is mind boggling and just go read it!!! 😭 😭 😭 I just love this fic so much, it has instantly sky-rocketed to one of my top 3 favourite fics I've ever read, and I'm so grateful to have found it and now be along for the ride that if I could bring that to one more person then by god I will fucking do it

[thewhumpcaretaker]

i hope u dont mind i go to you for whump ideas !! do u have any ideas/prompts for a living weapon/forced soldier(?) type thing👀

I certainly do not mind! I do love making prompts.

This is basically a whole genre of whump, so this will be long and I'm just getting started honestly.

💥 Living Weapon Whump 💥

Whumpee is forced to kill - this is kind of the heart of the trauma. How do they deal with it? Do they blame themself? Do they hate the ones who did this to them? One way or another, they have to live with terrible memories of what their own two hands have done.

...Or maybe they don't live with the memories. Whumpee dissociates heavily and perhaps even deals with amnesia from things they can't bear to face.

Dissociation overall is important. To act violently and efficiently in a fight, when you don't want to act, requires separating emotions from actions and becoming distant. When whumpee gets hurt, or sees something horrifying, they don't respond. They're calm. Too calm.

Self-hatred. Viewing themself as a weapon, only good for killing and incapable of love or kindness. Unworthy of having basic human needs met.

If the training started young, whumpee was raised in isolation, so they struggle to understand basic social cues, pop culture references, and just how to act normal. They're very nervous around people.

This can also have other effects on how they socialize and on their personality. Maybe it wasn't safe to have empathy for others if everyone around them was getting hurt and killed regularly, so they lost touch with empathy. Maybe any mistake or sign of weakness would lead to punishment, so honor became crucial.

They're probably going to have an unusual relationship to physical touch. They've mostly only been touched in violent ways, so they'll either be touch starved or touch averse. They flinch when someone moves suddenly. It takes a while to learn that touch can be positive. Maybe sparring and playfighting is one of the only ways they feel comfortable touching other people - or maybe it's something they never want to do with people they love, because it's connected to too many bad memories.

Whumpee expects to be hurt and thinks it's normal. They get into bad relationships, difficult jobs, etc. They don't take care of their health. Why? Because their suffering "doesn't matter." They're just a tool.

Maybe whumpee is conditioned to respond to a code word. When they hear that word or phrase, they start killing anyone around them indiscriminately until another code word (or passing out, or something else) snaps them out of it.

If they can't control when they'll become dangerous (either because of a code word like that, or because they get violent during PTSD triggers, or just because they don't trust themself), maybe they try to incapacitate themself or lock themself up. Maybe they get thrown into prison or an institution on purpose, to protect their loved ones. Maybe they run away.

Maybe whumpee has permanent physical alterations because of their training. Maybe they were branded or tattooed. Maybe they have cryogenic implants or embedded tracking devices. Maybe they've sustained injuries that now result in chronic pain.

Whumpee faces trial for things they were forced to do, things beyond their control. But maybe they blame themself completely. Or maybe they don't, and they're enraged to be in this situation.

I could continue this list for days honestly haha, this is one of my favorite tropes. Now I want to do a separate one focused on living weapon comfort...

[wickjump]

HELLO INTERNET AND WELCOME TO [wickjump]: REDUX ...again

My name is Wick (she/they/star/it), also known as Wickskip (TikTok), Wickjump (Tumblr), or Hopwick (AO3*).

On all platforms my content centers around Undertale and the Undertale Multiverse, however I’ll also sometimes reblog/post about a few other fandoms.

PROSHIP DNI.

What I post and reblog can contain themes of violence/abuse, mental illness, whump/grimdark/dead dove/fictional gore, suicide/self harm, suggestive themes, and more. For those reasons, this blog is intended for audiences 16+ in age. I write and enjoy grimdark content, keep that in mind.

Reblogs that may contain these themes often go untagged!

🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️ TRANS CROSS CANON 🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵

information zone /ᐠ - ˕-マ｡˚ᶻ 𝗓

[⁉️] byf/dni:

dni: pro/com/dark (i do not support harassment or doxxing), xvials, TERFs, zionists/pro-isreal, anti-semitics, bigots. aka obvious assholes

byf: i will sometimes post/reblog things of a suggestive nature, but none of said posts will be graphic nudity. nsfw content may be discussed, but not in detail. i will also post whump content which can include gore, torture, conditioning, dehumanization, etc.

i will occasionally talk about or reference my experience in being groomed, abused, formerly proship (and now against it), a victim of csa, or other traumas of mine, but posts containing those themes will always be tagged appropriately. i use 'cw' instead of 'tw' when tagging warnings!

to not see my whump posts, filter out the tags #evil wick hours (for general whump posts/reblogs) and #evil wick writes (for more graphic/explicit whump or writing snippets)

*my ao3 account is not intended for those under 18.

yes nsfw/18+ blogs can follow me i really dont care given i have one of my own

[⚠️] boundaries:

do not tag me in posts containing themes that apply to my dnis or general discomforts. that includes grooming, pedophilia, incest, proship content, bigotry, etc.

do not tag me in posts that are centered around the harassment of another individual or group of individuals.

don’t flirt with me or make sexual/romantic comments towards me, regardless of age or relationship status, including jokes!!!! conversations with graphic sexual themes are generally uncomfortable for me and i’d prefer not to have them. conversations about sex or sexual themes is fine as long as you’re 18+ and not being weird towards me (or in general) about it.

don’t drag me into fights/start them under my posts!!!!!!! id like to be informed of the base of what’s going on, but not included.

sometimes i can be wrong about things. if i am wrong about things, tell me so i can improve!! i never mean to make anyone upset because of something i said. on this note, also send an ask or dm if i reblog or mistakenly support a not-good person, it would be much appreciated!

aint a boundary but itd be appreciated if you didn’t use starself, only star/star's. not for any important reason it’s just a grammar pet peeve of mine

i am in a relationship :)

[⭐️] faves:

things that are bolded are my current hyperfocus

aus: xtale, handplates, dusttale, reapertale, aftertale

au sanses: cross, epic, reaper, lust, dream, passive!nightmare, dust, error, sci and fresh

canon ut characters: chara, frisk, asriel/flowey, toriel, alphys

other au characters: xtale alphys, xchara, xfrisk, xtale toriel, uf!toriel, uf!flowey, reapertale chara, handplates gaster, starlo (ut:y), clover (ut:y), outertale grillby, core frisk, storyshift chara, storyshift asriel

ships: crepic, kross, lustblue, hypersomnia, mtt + crepic poly, epickross/krepic, epiciller, mtt + cross poly, mtt poly, drinkberry, errorink, afterdeath, classicsci, kustard, dustard, etc. but im not a picky shipper :3

tropes: devotion, friends -> lovers, hurt/comfort, opposites attract, soulmates, whump

color, animal, movie, book: pink/red, cats/wolves/foxes, the little prince (1974)/the lion king, the forgotten warrior (wc)

coffee order: >60k word slow burn friends to lovers whump recovery fic rated M PLEASE

[🕯] other assorted info:

still no twitter, discord, or insta :(

cross is my liege and he is the focus of 90% of my posts. i also gore/whump him the most

i don’t have kids, but i have cats. two of them. but they might as well be my biological kids with how they act. i post about them like theyre human biological children and often dont clarify it's a joke in the tags. please get used to this

every time i talk about ink in a relationship it is always queerplatonic on their part, even if i don’t clarify!! i personally don’t ship them romantically.

i have diagnosed autism, adhd, anxiety, ptsd, and some others but that’s my personal biz. if i come off as awkward, ‘trying too hard’, unable to realize when a joke’s ended, or just weird/unlikable, that’s why. i’m seriously bad with that stuff but i’m trying my best!! don't be mean to me i'll cry

i’m an ace lesbian (i love women) and fem-adjacent non-binary :3

mapleshade chara and toriel #1 defender

[🐇] links to thingz:

Undertrap Sans/Milkbone Sans <- my son

Sona Reference Sheet <- me

Strawpage (carrd but cooler + u can submit drawings?!??!?!?!)

Ao3 / TikTok

18+ Sideblog <- pretty inactive mb

(pride divider by aquazero, cross stamps by lazyartost, error/dream/cross & warrior cats dividers by sister-lucifer, undertale graphics by e-resources, no clue who made the eeveelutions one lol)

[jordanstrophe]

Omg what I nice trope! For some reason I couldn’t find anything fresh abt with…

Would you mind writing a smaaall drabble/whatever you want for this trope? 🥺😭

[the trope in question] I was going to try and go smaaaall but then my hand slipped

CW: Medical whump, trauma, wound cleaning, hurt/comfort, recovery from torture

There was a look caretaker had never seen from whumpee before.

Mistrust

Fear

Agony...

"It's going to sting a bit, just take deep breaths" Caretaker said, shakily holding a antiseptic-drenched cloth.

Whumpee's eyes darted between caretaker and the cloth before letting out a breath. From that breath alone, you could tell just how much they were shaking.

"Try to lean your head back, please." Caretaker put their hand on whumpee's forehead and forced them to relax. It did rather little for how tense they were, and caretaker could feel it.

Blood from their leg started trickling down the bed. Time was growing short, and caretaker's hesitance was doing no one any good. They put a firm hand on whumpee's knee and pressed the cloth against the wound on their leg.

Somehow, it felt like -every muscle- in whumpee's body burned simultaneously.

"STOP!" Whumpee gasped, snapping up and clinging to caretaker's shoulders. "Caretaker stop- please stop," Whumpee heaved through gritted teeth.

"It's okay, It's okay... Hold on to me, everything is going to be alright... Ssshhh-" Caretaker soothed almost like a plea.

Whumpee acted as if they were being electrocuted. They could barely hold themselves still and were trying to curl their legs to their chest- specifically their wounded leg that felt like it was being slowly stabbed through all over again.

They could hear them- whumper's voice screaming at them, cursing them, laughing at them. The arm around them didn't feel like caretaker's, but whumper's.

"MAKE THEM STOP! Caretaker please, make them stop!" Whumpee suddenly cried, no longer able to hold anything behind a clenched jaw. Caretaker guided them back down onto the bed, finishing up what was left of the cleaning before dressing their injury.

Caretaker's chest was wracked with guilt, they pretended the tears on their face weren't there.

"It's almost o-over... You're okay, it's al-almost over, you're doing great," Caretaker repeated, feeling a ting of relief as the worst of it seemed to fade.

Whumpee let their leg relax with their knee over caretaker's elbow. Caretaker felt it and laid whumpee's leg down and brushed their hand over their hair.

''Are you back with me?" Caretaker asked, their other hand tracing over their face like they were scared to touch. Whumpee's eyes darted between unfocused, and fixated on caretaker. They stared blankly, before letting them close.

"Good... Rest is good." Caretaker huffed out of breath, adrenaline from their own body began to calm down and their hands started trembling.

Only then did they acknowledge their tears and dragged a hand down their face to wipe them away. They sank into a chair next to whumpee's bed and grasped their hand, the seemingly only safe thing to hold.

"You're going to be alright."