#this would make such a good whump trope

[lumpywhump]

thinking of a bad caretaker and a mentally disabled whumpee

"what the hell do you mean? Just do it!"

"I can't! It's not that simple!"

"why not!? I can do it just fine!"

"could you do it for me then...?"

"No. You need to learn how to do this kind of stuff on your own,"

"but caretaker! I'm having a really bad flare up! It's /debilitating/ right now!"

"...shit I forgot about that..."

Extra fun if at the end whumpee feels like a useless piece of crap.

[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

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Has Mel been offered a haircut?

I know that's not what his hair was like before Swift and I'm wondering if he's okay with that or stuck with it

The means to get a haircut definitely exist aboard the Inferno, but no one's really thought to ask him (and he hasn't asked himself)

He's sort of indifferent to it, I suppose. Hasn't had much access to a mirror either, so he hasn't had a chance to really look at himself since before Mercury. There are still reflections in windows and portholes and other things he may pass, but it's different. Distorted in a way.

It's kind of annoying if he's trying to do anything, but otherwise he doesn't care too much

[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.

[noperopesaredope]

I already wrote a similar posts on how fics of this nature annoy me, but I would like to push it further by saying that while I am fine reading it, I feel kind of weird about fics where the clones like Cody are constantly taking care of and basically babysitting their Jedi General or acting as a major emotional pillar for them.

I think the reason it makes me so uncomfortable is that not only are the clones already going through their own extremely horrific shit, but the Jedi are their superior officers and have a lot more systemic power over them. I will never stop saying that the clones are slaves, and while I don't see the Jedi as being their enslavers, I do think that they are essentially in a "master" position of power whether they like it or not. So it feels weird when the Jedi are more dependent on the clones and the clones need to basically take care of them and are always needing to look after them.

I'm a half-black American who is very passionate about African American history and anti-black systemic issues. And I can't help but be reminded of the tropes involving black characters whose are constantly forced into what is basically a caretaker role for white characters. Think of the Mammy, or the Black Best Friend, or the Magical Negro. The clones are already oppressed, already marginalized, and already forced to constantly back up and support the Jedi in charge of them. And then they are forced to be their Jedi's babysitter on top of all that.

Helping their Jedi out and generally caring about their wellbeing on places like the battlefield? Yes, that can be very sweet and often involves a lot of emotional care and trust.

Needing to force their Jedi to take care of themselves even off the battlefield and having a whole system/thing about how the Jedi "never take care of themselves and simply need the clones in order to do basic self care and not overwork themselves all the time while being oh so self-sacrificial"? Slightly weird and honestly seems to be the other way around based on both canon scenes and their respective circumstances.

I feel like perhaps part of this is just a general desire for angst and classic whump tropes, and sometimes it seems to be used as a way to showcase, "see! The Jedi do care about their troopers!" It seems like an example of the Jedi taking on the caretaker position and being the ones to protect the clones. But it almost always ends up resulting in the clones being forced into a support/caretaker role even when it seems like the Jedi is playing the role of caretaker.

Now, I don't think fics that follow this overall concept are super problematic or whatever. I also think some dynamics like this can work, such as with the Padawans and the clones (though that is for very specific reasons). I really don't want to spread too much negativity or say that anyone who writes this stuff is automatically racist or whatever. It's more of a personal discomfort/distaste than anything and people can write whatever they want, especially since I know the intent behind these tropes are often sweet in nature.

But I do think it's good for us to reflect on the parallels the clones have to real life issues and the way certain harmful tropes and mindsets can be perpetuated through metaphorical allegories (whether intentional or unintentional), and discuss the way we as a fandom treat the power dynamics between the clones and Jedi, especially in regards to things like shipping.

I don't know if I'm making any sense, but please tell me what you think, especially since I think it would be a good thing to talk about.

[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!

[allastoredeer]

Do you have any favorite themes or tropes that you've noticed from Alastor-centric fanworks?

Oh! For sure!

I love it when the other characters find out more about Alastor's past and are kind of just...caught off guard. Like the sudden realization that for however powerful or scary Alastor is, he was a human once. He had a life. A mother he loved. A job. Friends. He wasn't always this terrifying Overlord with razor sharp teeth and and claws. That startling moment when he's humanized and not just seen as some kind of eldritch being.

Alastor and accidental moments of vulnerability. For example, the other characters finding out about his wound, or they come across him mid-panic attack. Alastor would never go to them for help, but the universe decides he's going to get it anyway.

The Hazbin crew realizing just how much Alastor does for the hotel, i.e being the facilities manager. Like, he's not just there lurking in shadows or shamelessly watching them fail, he's actually doing things that keep the hotel functioning, and a lot of it goes unnoticed because it's things people don't really think about. Like Charlie, for example. She grew up rich, likely had a dozen servants, and probably never had to go out and buy groceries for herself or other people. She's never had to worry about paying for electricity, or water, or making sure pipes aren't getting clogged, the roof wasn't leaking, and the bar getting stocked. I can't imagine those are things Vaggie had to worry about either, as (Exorcists or not) she stilled lived in Heaven for most of her life, where I imagine problems like that don't exist, and Charlie found her almost immediately after she was cast out, so she's been living on Charlie's dime. Keeping the pantry stocked and the plumbing going is something they easily forget about, especially when Alastor takes on those tasks, and they don't realize just how much he's doing for the hotel until they suddenly don't have it anymore and the hotel devolves into chaos. It's one of my favorite tropes and I wish there were more fics that had it (me included, I do intend on writing my own).

Almost any kind of Alastor whump. I love watching my man suffer than get care and love afterward.

Alastor accidentally caring about people. He went into this not giving a shit, but goddammit now he actually cares about all these buffoons and he's not happy about this unforeseen turn of events.

Alastor and his relationship with Charlie actually being incredibly sweet and wholesome. Charlie knows Alastor doesn't believe in her cause, and Alastor doesn't try to sugar-coat things and actually treats her like an adult, and they have a very good dynamic that no one else understands. It doesn't have to be fatherly or parental, but Alastor does hold a special place in Charlie's heart, and Alastor has a soft spot for her.

Any fic that explores Alastor's trauma and how it effects the way he interacts with other people.

Those are all the ones I can think of right now, though I'm sure there are more. If anyone knows any fic recs that has these tropes or themes, pls drop a link! (Exclusively bottom!Alastor for anything smut or kink related please).

[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.

[lightningant]

well if you don’t have anything against the author of “what he grows to be” because of the incestuous nature of this specific fic, i think “and the living will envy the dead” might work better since it’s a time travel fix it and they’re both the same age. the writing really is great and harry isn’t a wet rag without an ounce of personality or intelligence — which i hate with a burning passion. i actually find their version of both harry and tom to be pretty true to their canonical versions.

also, speaking of fanfiction and recommendations, do you have a list of tomarry fanfics you really like? specifically with a good characterization of harry? i really enjoy your writing, so i think anything you’d recommend would be up my alley as well.

Oh fuck YEAAAAAAH baby thanks for the rec! I'm tolerant of shivering foal Harry but only if it has narration establishing why his character is so different, so I can take "AU where Harry is different" as a facet of the pitch. Generally they don't inspire much passion but I still flip through them so I can look at blorbo some more

I only have two Tomarry fics I actually got into:

Lover's Spit, where Tom is a slur-regurgitating autistic edgelord who was accidentally groomed into being a goreposting stalker at 10 years old, which I love for personal reasons. I think it remasters the concept of forgiveness by rooting it in this really recognizable and horrific empathy-barren environment Tom was basically forged in. The shock content and proximity to known quantities of depravity make it extremely dark for a modern reader. But some of the best prose I've ever read in fanfiction period and funny as fuck

Consumption which is a pseudo-hanahaki I finished this morning and seamlessly merges the lightning generation and its story beats into the Grindelwald time period, with a non-linear dance between their childhood friends dynamic (which is incredible) and Harry trying to unravel what's going on with Tom in the now. I gasped multiple times

I'm generally more hesitant about ongoing fics. If one of these end up in a weird place feel free to blow my brains out:

Hole in the Wall is a prison sex smutfic, and one of the kinks is that Harry is turned into a braindead wet rag specifically because he's being kept stable from nonstop dementor attacks by being put into 24/7 subspace, which is really putting elbow grease into applying the setting. Warning for rape between the couple; it's shocking but warned for appropriately.

Strings of Fate is same age time travel. Has the singular most deranged flanderized Tom Riddle ever and I am absolutely eating up. I was just skimming until Tom decides on what's going on and what's WRONG WITH HIMMMMM WHAT THE FUCK IS HIS PROBLEMMMM

VII is a whump/recovery story and one of those trope button-pushers so not stringently IC or even that serious but ohhhh gooddddd my buttons they're being pushed my buttons my buttons

The Pleasure, The Privilege is a haunting horror story. Literally just "what if Voldemort gets dosed with amortentia and is exactly as evil". Very very Hannibalcore (gore included).

Leaving out fics I'm in the middle of reading or have in my backlog or haven't hit the premise so I don't know if it'll stick.

[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...

[fallenwhumpee]

*strolling up to a counter* Hii, may I please have a 1,2,7/8,6,1/23/25/13 and 4/9? :D

Whumpee: 1 - Leader (couldn't stop myself, I love leader whump too much haha-)

Caretaker: 2 - Right hand

Whumper: oh, what if it's a combination of 8 - mentor and 7 - villain? :O

Dynamics: 6 - team

Tropes: 1 -self sacrifice, 23 - rescue. 25 - buried alive (maybe even 13 - left for the dead, if it works? :O)

Dialouge: 6 -"I can't walk", 9 - "You're still alive"

Thank you very much for making this and I hope I'm not going too crazy, haha (*>w<) Absolutely feel free to get rid of some parts or add additional ones, and not writing this if the inspiration doesn'tcome is completely oke too. :D I think the most important part is that you enjoy the proccess as much as possible ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

Have a wonderful day, virtual hugs and a cookie 💕🍪～(´∀｀～)

Hiii! Glad to see you here hehehe. Turned buried alive to stuck in an underground bunker. Enjoy!

Warnings: Knife, starvation, restrains, delirium(?) -> from this ask game <-

Leader was out of breath. They couldn't run anymore. they were cornered. They hated themselves for not seeing the trap. But how one even prepared for this? To be completely understood by the enemy in tactics and mind?

They stopped absurdly, watching the team from behind. Whumper had figured Leader out, so be it. But there was no way they could understand what Leader would do for their team.

Right Hand noticed first. Of course they did. Leader taught them well. Taught them how to lead. How to protect. To see when sacrifice was needed for survival. And at that moment, all Leader could do was smile bitterly.

I'm so sorry for burdening you so early, they mouthed, before locking the metal door through the alarm. Tech had spent ages to disable it from far, but it was so easy from inside. Leader didn't turn back as Whumper's forces got to the room from the remaining entrance.

"I won't let you get them," they stated. Leader wouldn't lose. Because their goal wasn't their own survival. It was to keep their team alive.

"I never wanted them. They were only obstacles between you and me," Whumper chirped. A shiver ran down Leader's spine, and for the first time in their life, they felt afraid for themselves. The team is safe, they tried to assure themselves. They can't truly hurt me.

Slowly, Leader turned back. There were guns pointed at them, all in safe distances. Leader wasn't fast enough to take on these much armed men out. "If I knew you wanted me that bad, I'd bring you flowers. I'm rather bare at the moment."

Whumper laughed. Not the loud, gloating kind Leader had expected. Quieter. Sincere. Like they were sharing a joke only the two of them understood. But Leader didn't. There were only misunderstandings with someone beyond reqsoning.

“You always were funny when you were terrified.”

Leader didn’t flinch. Even as cold sweat traced down their spine, even as their lungs still burned from the run, they kept their stance casual. They wouldn't fall for such bait. They had to save strength.

“I’m not terrified,” Leader simply said. And perhaps it was that simple. Leader wasn't terrified. Leader had insurance. The agency had a whole will to go over if Leader couldn't find a way out of this hell. The team was in good hands.

Whumper stepped closer. The armed soldiers didn’t move—because they didn’t need to. They were just the net. Whumper was the spider.

“No,” Whumper agreed, tilting their head. “Not yet.”

Leader’s jaw tightened.

“It was a good move,” Whumper went on, gesturing lazily to the locked door behind them. “A little dramatic. But you always were the noble one. I wonder—did they even see you do it? Or will they turn around and just… find you gone?”

Leader didn’t answer.

Whumper stepped closer. They were inside striking distance now, and Leader didn’t move. They couldn’t. Not with so many rifles trained on them. Not when Whumper was baiting them into making the first move.

“I know you, you know,” Whumper said, almost softly. “I know what you fear. What you hide. You didn’t just seal that door to protect them. You sealed it because if you saw the look on their faces - if you saw how much it would break them - you’d hesitate.”

Leader’s throat bobbed. “Stop pretending you understand me.”

“But I do.” Whumper smiled, and it didn’t touch their eyes. “You think you're the one who made your team strong? That you've trained them well enough to keep going? Maybe. But they’ll unravel faster than you think without you. And you know it.”

Leader’s fists clenched. “If you want to kill me, just do it.”

“Oh no,” Whumper murmured. “I want you to fight for your own life for once. No  noble sacrifices. No plans. Just you and your will to live.”

And then, without warning, something struck Leader across the head—sharp, hard, and fast.

The world tilted. Leader stumbled, a fist flying over their head. And then they fought. They fought and bled and they tried, more and more people lunging at them and it hurt. Yet they kept fighting because they couldn't surrender. It simply wasn't their nature. They fought for what felt like hours, their body slowly breaking and their limbs aching with backlash. At the end, someone must have gotten bored because Leader froze with a knife to their gut.

They fell.

Whumper taunted. Leader didn't - couldn't -  listen. And Whumper got bored finally, leaving Leader there to die by themselves. The last thing they heard before the blackness swallowed them whole was a shadow's voice, soft and pleased:

“You're coming with me.”

-•-

Leader didn't expect to open their eyes again, but they were glad to be proven wrong. Being alive was cold. Their wrists burned from strain and metal restraints, their body sluggish.

Wait, metal restrains?

It took Leader's whole strength to stay stay still, not panic. They were left to die. Did Whumper change their mind? They didn't remember.

Calming themselves as best as they can, Leader tried to understand. They were underground. That much they could tell by the dampness in the air, the silence, the faint scent of old stone and rot. There was no sound of life. Just the dull, echoing drip of water from somewhere, a hum of a generator, maybe

Then came the voice.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

“Well,” said the Villain, calm and amused. “Still alive. Just barely.”

Leader opened their eyes. The world swam, but the face hovering above them sharpened slowly into clarity.

Their former mentor.

“You,” Leader hissed, hate rising like bile.

“Me,” Villain agreed, crouching in front of them, brushing dirt from their shoulder with a touch that made Leader want to flinch. “Dragged you out before your end. You should be grateful.”

“You’re working together now?” At least that would explain why Leader was outsmarted.

A short laugh. “Hardly. I just hate letting people waste potential. Especially mine.”

Leader spat at their feet. “I’m not yours. Not anymore.”

Villain’s eyes cooled. “Still stubborn, then. Good. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Leader didn’t respond. They didn’t need to. Villain already knew. Just like Whumper. Everyone who ever claimed to understand them did the same thing: they underestimated the line Leader wouldn’t cross just because it would hurt their team.

“You’ll betray them eventually,” Villain said, standing. “When it’s just you. When it’s quiet. When your ribs ache and your mouth is dry and your mind starts to go soft with starvation. You’ll see how little your nobility means. Shout when you change your mind.”

Leader didn’t look at them. Didn’t blink.

So Villain sighed and turned to go.

“Oh, and don’t worry,” they added as a ladder was thrown down. “There’s enough air to last you a while. I’m very precise. I want you to feel the moment you regret everything.”

And with that, they heard metal clang and a valve close.

Darkness swallowed Leader whole.

But they didn’t scream. Didn’t cry.

They closed their eyes.

And breathed.

The team was alive.

That was enough. So they didn't try to check concrete walls like coffin. They didn't try the sealed door. The dark didn’t frighten Leader.

At first.

They had trained for worse. Deprivation drills, isolation chambers, and days without food. It was gifts Villain left Leader with when they were still at agency. They had starved for three days straight in the northern frost during winter. This was nothing.

So they waited. They kept count—of breaths, of heartbeats, of the tiny noises the earth made as it settled around them. The drip of the leak. The faint hum of the generator upstairs that faltered once, then resumed. They watched the dark with open eyes, blinking only when their eyes burned. Watched it as though something would change.

It started with the ache. Deep in the belly, then up through the ribs. A hollowing pain, sharp and raw, that quickly became familiar. At first, Leader tracked time through it. Guessed how much must have passed. They’d breathe through it, shift positions, press hands to their abdomen like that could fool the body into thinking something was there. But nothing ever came. And it hurt. Leader only then remembered the knife.  Their dirty shirt was soaked— by what, they couldn't tell. They could only hope it was blood and nothing else.

Eventually, the ache turned to nausea. Then numbness. Then fire again. It circled too often, too rarely. They couldn't grasp the time. But Leader didn't scream. That was important. They couldn’t scream or beg. Not because no one would hear them—but because it would mean giving the dark something. It would mean feeding it with fear, letting it grow teeth.

Water came once. Maybe twice. A slosh from a pipe above, dripping into a bowl they hadn’t noticed before. They drank. First, greedily. Then slowly. Then not at all, because their stomach hurt too much. Hunger was sharper than thirst. It crawled up from the gut, gnawed at the spine, the ribs, the base of the skull. It wasn’t pain anymore. Just… pressure. Then dullness. Then nothing.

Hallucinations came after a lifetime.

At first it was voices—Right Hand calling out, confused. Tech arguing, asking for coordinates. Laughter. Gunfire. They saw light that wasn’t there, shapes flickering in the edges of their eyes. Sometimes they heard the door unlock. It never did. They dreamed, too, but there was no difference between dreams and waking and hallucinating. In one moment, they were holding the team together, barking orders. In the next, they were curled on their side on rough stone, cradling a memory that couldn’t keep them warm.

They stopped moving.

It hurt too much. The muscles refused. Bones ached from pressure and cold and stillness. The restraint around their wrist was forgotten, part of their flesh now. Hunger no longer clawed - it purred. A heavy thing curling up in their gut, whispering that it would all be over soon.

Leader didn’t resist it.

There was no fight to win. Only silence.

Sometimes Leader forgot which way was up until their skull hit stone again. They knew they passed out, because they’d wake in new positions, mouth dry, heart skipping beats like it was confused to still be working.

Sometimes, they thought they spoke. Maybe to Villain. Maybe to Whumper. Maybe to the team. They imagined apologizing. Explaining. Sometimes, just whispering names to remember them in order. They forgot their own once. It came back. Slow. Sticky. Like crawling through wet leaves. They didn't hear their own voice.

They laughed once. It sounded like choking.

Then came the smell of rot. They weren't sure if it came from the cell or their own body. Infection, maybe. The cuffs tore their wrists bloody after too many unconscious jerks.

The first time Villain returned, the light burned. A cold, yellow spill through the opened hatch above, and the ladder clattered down like laughter.

“You’re still alive,” Villain observed, devoid of any other emotion.

Leader didn't lift themselves from the floor. Their voice was foreign, low. “That disappoints you?”

“No,” Villain said lightly, crouching beside them, holding out food. “Still loyal?”

Leader didn’t speak. They only smelled their own blood anyway.

Villain smiled with just the edges of their mouth. “Suit yourself.”

Villain pulled back. They left a bruise that time. Fingers curling around Leader’s face with almost parental intent, thumb pressed just a little too hard against their cheekbone, before slapping as if they were still a naughty intern.

The second visit came after hunger stopped being hunger and became quiet. As if Leader’s body had forgotten to want. Muscles didn’t ache anymore. They simply were not. Time passed. Or didn't.

“You’re not even trying,” they noted. “I expected you to try digging. Scratching. Begging.”

Leader scoffed. Their lips cracked when they spoke. “You taught me well.”

That earned them a sharp kick—not hard enough to kill, just enough to remind. Pain had begun to feel like proof of existence. Leader hissed, curling inward. There was blood again.

“Still no change of heart?”

Silence.

Villain stood. “Then I'm done with you.”

Leader heard the door - hatch - again.

“You don’t have to die for them,” Villain said quietly. “They’re probably already replacing you. You know how fast these things move.”

Leader didn't answer.

“I could pull you out,” Villain offered. “Patch you up. Feed you. Clean you. Give you a new life.”

There was only silence after.

-•-

It started as a tremor.

Leader didn’t believe it at first. The infection had made illusions out of smaller things. Phantom footsteps, rescue teams that were only echoes of memory. But this… this vibration was different.

Real.

A scrape above. Then, a clatter. Stone against stone. Something shifted. The sealed lid, too heavy to dream of moving, began to Leak light. The pressure changed. Subtle, but it hit Leader like a gasp of fresh breath.

A second passed. Then another. Then, the lid pushed aside with a strained grunt. Dust fell in sheets. The beam of a flashlight broke into the cell.

Then—

Leader blinked against the white glare, breath stuck on their throat.

Not Villain. Not a hallucination.

It was Right Hand..

Right Hand dropped something—metal clanking against stone. A ladder. The shaft shook as they half-fell down , then knelt beside them. A warm hand brushed gently under Leader’s jaw, lifting their head.

“Leader. Hey. Look at me.” Their voice was rough, breaking. Why were they crying? “I’ve got you. We’ve got you. You're safe now.”

Leader’s eyes rolled back in their head. They forced them open again. Right Hand was still there. Still real.

“Right Hand…” Leader murmured, almost a question, an apology they had to get put of their chest.

“Shhh.” Right Hand cradled them, pushing away the thoughts and cold from Leader.. “You’re going to be okay, Leader. I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

Leader tried to push themselves up, but their body didn’t obey. Their limbs were stiff, like they had forgotten how to move, how to function. They had to get up, wanted to get up. Villain could come back. They would come back and then Right Hand would be defenceless with Leader burdening them.

“I… I can’t… walk,” Leader whispered, not registering the words. Their paranoia was supposed to stay inside. But they couldn't stop themselves. “I can’t…”

They were trembling. Their body was growing heavier with each passing moment, as though gravity itself had decided to weigh them down. They were a wreck and a burden, all the things they didn't want to br.

Right Hand’s hand came to their forehead. Cold. Leader leaned towards the cold. Their thoughts dissolved.

“I know,” Right Hand said softly. “I’m not asking you to walk. I’m carrying you.”

Leader opened their mouth to protest, to tell Right Hand not to risk it, but the words didn't come. They couldn’t make sense of what they wanted to say anymore.

“Hey. Look at me,” Right Hand said, their voice gentle but commanding. “Look at me.”

Leader’s eyes struggled to focus, but there was something in Right Hand’s gaze that grounded them. Thr cold hand left their forehead for a moment, but next their wrists were free. They didn't know - or care - how. Then the handover to their back.

“You’re gonna be alright, I promise,” Right Hand continued, voice steady.

Leader nodded—or maybe twitched. It didn’t matter. Right Hand moved fast, looping one arm under their shoulders and the other under their knees, lifting with a grunt. Leader hissed through their teeth. It felt like tearing open their stomach again.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Right Hand muttered. “You’re light as hell. That’s not a compliment.”

Leader wanted to laugh at that, but the sound that came out was closer to a gasp. The pain was distant now, muffled like sound underwater. The world swam as Right Hand cradled them close, navigating the narrow shaft with slow, careful steps. Each jolt sent pain ricocheting through their bones, but they clung to consciousness, focusing on Right Hand’s breathing, the steady rhythm of it. Not a hallucination. Not a dream. Real.

There was shouting above. Muffled. Urgent. Tech’s voice. Sharp, commanding.

“Exit’s not secure—we’ve got three minutes tops!”

“Medical’s ready, just get them up!”

The light widened. Then warmth hit Leader's skin—real warmth. Flashlight? Sunlight? They couldn’t tell, but it was not the dark. Leader sucked in a breath that didn’t taste like mold and rot. Their lungs burned with fresh air. Their vision blurred again, but it wasn’t darkness that swallowed them this time—it was too much light.

They were passed off—hands under their back, people murmuring, equipment beeping. They were floating. No, being carried again. Blankets. Needles. Medic's voice was too close.

“What did they do to you…” Youngest murmured, but Leader couldn’t answer. Their throat was raw, and everything ached. They blinked once. Twice.

Then everything went quiet.

-•-

The next time they woke, it was in a clean cot. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air. Wires ran to their wrist. Tubes. Machines. But no restraints. No stone. No rot.

Right Hand had was asleep sitting upright, a data tablet slipping from their fingers. Their head rested awkwardly against the wall, neck bent too far.

Leader tried to speak, but only managed a croak. Right Hand startled awake anyway.

“Leader,” they said, instantly alert. “You’re up. Hey. Hey. Don’t move, you’re still—”

“Team?” Leader rasped, eyes barely open.

“We’re fine. All of us. We regrouped. We found you.” Right Hand’s voice cracked on that last word. “Took too damn long, but we did.”

Leader stared at them, struggling to speak. “You saw. At the door. I—”

“I know.” Right Hand leaned in, their voice quieter now. “I know why you did it. We don’t blame you. Just… angry at your crazy stunts.”

Silence settled between them, heavy but not painful. Alive was good. Together was better. And everything was alright if they had the luxury to be angry.

Leader closed their eyes for a moment. “Villain?”

“Gone. Retreated when they realized we were coming. Coward with an attachment complex.” Right Hand paused. “They won’t get near you again.”

Leader turned their head slightly. “Was I gone long?”

Right Hand hesitated. “Eighteen days there. Another week in Medbay”

Leader blinked. That long. That short. It didn’t matter anymore.

“You held on,” Right Hand added, softer now. “No one believed you would’ve made it through that. But you did.”

Leader breathed in. Deep. Shaky. Tried to piece together. But their thoughts slipped.

“I’m sorry,” Leader said finally.

“For what?” Right Hand asked, eyebrows pulling together.

“For putting you in my place,” Leader whispered. “For leaving.”

“You didn’t leave us,” Right Hand said defensively. “You saved us. And now we’ll look after you. That’s how this works. We carry each other.”

Leader only smiled.

[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

[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! 😘