#violent light <3

[cassierobinsons]

Sorry to bring up the Sam classism discourse weeks later but I honestly think a lot of people in hellerblr calling Sam classist are unconsciously deflecting from the fact that vast swathes of destiel fandom have made an entire cottage industry out of regurgitating the same ideas in their fics and text posts about how Dean is too stupid to know what a gay person is and how poor put-upon Sam must explain things to him because somehow attending the same university as Rishi Sunak (during Bush's first term no less!) makes him an expert on queerness. now obviously this does not apply to my mutuals who have been unfailingly supportive in my vendetta against Know-It-All Sam but like. Come on. Some of you need to remove the plank in your eye before you worry about the speck in someone else's.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Lights Out! Frank & Wally get very close once Frank fully wakes up. he adjusts to his new reality (and Wally's changes) surprisingly quickly

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

the When the Levee Breaks to Swan Song to Jack in the Box to Unity throughline. i'm gonna puke. the fucking cycle of patriarchal abuse at a cosmic scale but also on a granular level. we're always going back to mary bleeding and burning on the ceiling. we're always going back to sam breaking down, giving himself up to lucifer, and throwing himself into the depths of hell. familial violence is an ouroborous that both births and consumes itself. and in the end, sam, the moral compass - the one always branded crazy and selfish and disobedient for daring to question his family's reality - being the one to break it all.

[ponyartistbrainiac]

I have been practicing drawing humanoids so have a picture of my WOL missing her two favorite boys, Her husband Aymeric and Estinien someday I will write her story out. probably just for myself. I am not sure anyone would be super interested in that her name is Xirtelt Dotharl

[pancakesmythie]

I had an idea to make a sour light fury in Blender (sour like from Viva Piñata). The light fury was probably a better choice to make sour that the night fury because light furies are sleeker and it was just so fun to make it look pointier and evil.

Example of sour macaracoon & tame macaracoon (Viva Piñata):

This took about ummm... 4 or 5 hours to make?! I have never had so many issues rigging teeth, its usually been the easiest thing to rig since each tooth isn't really flexible. With this though, the teeth would not weight paint at all and were stretching out of the mouth weirdly. So I disconnected each row and linked it to the head and jaw bones... then they just floated weirdly when I moved the model so I made a 2nd root bone for the rig and that seems to have fixed the problem.

I also wanted to think of what kind of abilities these have. They can turn invisible like light furies but instead of a plasma blast they have a toxic blast. So, I have also experimented with fluids in Blender.

The story behind these is that Pester got ahold of a bunch of light furies (AU) and got them to consume sour poison. Now they have turned into sour furies, they are all controlled by Pester. I also made a very light heart shape on the heads because they were made from light furies (and also I love Pester).

Also, here's what a papery version looks like, I'm not really using this one though.

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: Violent Delight Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3 Rating: M Status: One-Shot Characters: Naia (F!Tav), Araj Oblodra Ships:Naia/Araj Additional Notes: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Blood, Background Naia/Shadowheart, Flirting but in an Evil Scientist way Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Araj makes a proposition. Against her better judgment, Naia accepts.

read below or here on ao3

It’s unnerving, how easily Naia can move through Moonrise Towers. Convenient, yes, of course- but unnerving, all the same.

She clutches her bag closely to her side, putting her utmost effort into appearing cool and confident as she sweeps out of Balthazar’s rooms, still half-expecting to be caught and questioned at any moment. The guards watch the gray-skinned tiefling as she goes, but it is with little interest; she has been verified as a True Soul. In their eyes, she belongs here.

The belief, she admits, is not even a particularly misguided one. Balthazar did send her here, did put her on the lead to understanding more of his research, and it would be a lie to claim that his teachings on the deeper levels of necromancy were received without a small, begrudging amount of admiration. That admiration gnaws at Naia’s stomach with an echo of guilt…but it does make it easier for her to play the part of a willing student in Ketheric’s loyal army.

Naia descends the long staircase and makes it halfway through the entrance hall without incident, and the tension within her begins to ease. It was wise to come here alone, she knows this. Ketheric’s guards may not prove so amenable to a large group attempting to navigate the fortress’s upper levels, but she is quick and capable enough on her own. And this way, she does not have to worry about her companions’ eyes upon her as she studiously unravels the undeniably impressive magic woven by Moonrise’s necromancer.

Yet she is also anxious to be done with this place and return to her friends waiting just outside the gates. Mostly, she is anxious to return to Shadowheart, who has sequestered herself within the locked rooms of Shar’s Gauntlet so as to better focus on her trials. This solitude is just one of many worrying tendencies Shadowheart has indulged in as of late, and Naia can only hope-

“You there.”

Naia winces at the voice, but it is too late to duck and run. With no small amount of reluctance, she turns to greet the drow woman sauntering across the hall with a self-satisfied smirk on her lips.

A look of such smugness upon the face of Araj Oblodra cannot be a good sign. Unfortunately, Naia dares not risk ignoring her outright; the drow is the only one in Moonrise who seems to realize Naia’s true loyalties. As of yet, she has not cared enough to announce this to anyone else, but recent events have left things tense between them, and her good grace is surely wearing thin.

Those same events have also thinned Naia’s patience, and despite her resolve to remain diplomatic, her voice is curt as Araj draws near. “If you’re here to ask me about Astarion again, the answer is still no.”

The woman’s red eyes flash with petulant anger, but her pointed smirk remains in place. “How adorably stubborn of you. But regarding my intentions, you are wrong- a feeling which I’m certain you are quite familiar with.”

Naia has no interest in granting this woman the benefit of doubt. “As I told you before,” she hisses, stepping closer so as to shield their conversation from passing soldiers, “he is not inclined to speak with you, let alone do anything else with you. A feeling which I’m certain you are quite familiar with.”

Araj tilts her head, that look finally slipping from her face. “Such a clever little tongue,” she says, a hint of dark amusement still lurking under her tone. “A pity it’s wasted on a creature with no spine.”

“If you’re not here to say anything useful-”

“I speak the truth,” Araj snaps, cutting through Naia’s words. “I’m not here for him. I’m here for you.”

The resulting look on Naia’s face must betray her emotions, for Araj releases a sharply delighted laugh. “Not for that, my darling. Some may find your demon’s nature enticing, but I am a lady of more acquired taste. What I require from you is for a purely scientific purpose, I assure you.”

Naia crosses her arms, her tail swishing angrily against the stone floor behind her. “You still haven’t told me what you actually want.”

“Is it not obvious, for a specimen such as yourself?” Araj asks, cloyingly sweet yet still somehow dripping condescension. “I am a sanguine alchemist. I want your blood.”

Naia stiffens, arms tightening around herself. “No.”

Her quick response earns a scoff from Araj. “You remain too easily offended. This is as much for your benefit as mine. Allow me to draw a sampling of your blood, and I shall distill a portion of it into a potion, which you may have and use however you see fit. A trade more than fair, considering I shall be doing all the work. All you have to do is bleed.”

The answer should, once again, be a quick and decisive no. Yet against her better judgment, Naia asks, “What will the potion do?”

Araj’s entire demeanor seems to brighten, her eyes sparkling at Naia’s reluctant interest. “I don’t know. Each one I make is unique, attuned to the blood of its source. And you…you are more unique than most, True Soul. Are you not curious as to what may come of it?” She licks at her lips; her gaze sharpens into something hungry. “I am.”

If only an honest denial could be made. But Naia is curious by nature, and her attentions are often most caught with subjects that others consider best left alone. The pages upon pages of necromancy research stowed away in her bag right now are testament enough to that fact.

Araj waits through Naia’s internal arguments, but finally rolls her eyes and gives an impatient toss of her hair. “Don’t give me that sour face, darling. It will only take but a moment of your time.”

“Fine,” Naia relents. These potions may be useful; if she observes carefully, she may even be able to reverse-engineer Araj’s formula and process. It is, overall, a pragmatic decision.

Araj lifts her chin in triumph, and Naia is quick to add, “But take one drop more than necessary and I shall rot the flesh from your bones.”

The answering laughter from Araj is almost fond. She turns on her heel and waves for Naia to follow as she sets off to her makeshift laboratory. Naia obliges, and she is relieved to see that the space is empty; if she’s going to do this, she’d rather do it without the Moonrise guards hanging over her head.

Once in the lab, Araj’s bearing shifts, if only slightly. She makes her way to a corner of the room and begins clearing her books and scrolls, her movements sharp and focused. Soon enough, she has assembled a collection of glass vials and alchemical ingredients, some of which even Naia cannot name. Each action she takes in this process is precise and intentional; her fingers are deft as she arranges the glass-encased chemicals, her eyes vibrant as she assembles the space exactly to her liking with gleeful anticipation.

Loathe as Naia is to admit it- and oh, she is loathe to admit it- there is something about the woman that makes her just as intriguing as she is infuriating. Such devotion to her craft can only be admired, and few others can claim to have reached her level of passion for this type of science. While her methods are hardly standard…well, Naia is once more reminded of the research in her bag, and the spells inscribed in her own grimoire. She is hardly one to judge.

Hells, Naia’s begrudging interest is perhaps a signal of danger all on its own. Gods know that her own tastes have always had a tendency towards the ill-advised.

Araj finally steps back from the table, apparently satisfied with its arrangement. She pulls a chair forward and looks to Naia, blood-red eyes gleaming. She must be proud of those eyes, seeing as how she decorates the skin around them with identical red shimmer, emphasizing the striking color. Araj’s smirk sharpens as she catches Naia’s watching gaze, and she waves a hand over the chair in exaggerated welcome.

“Please, darling- make yourself comfortable.”

That won’t be happening, so Naia settles for dropping herself stiffly in the offered seat. Araj circles her finger through the air in a get on with it motion, and with a deep breath through gritted teeth, Naia rolls up the sleeve of her robe and presents her bared arm.

This is the part she is looking forward to the least- but when Araj’s hands make contact, it’s not as bad as she was expecting. In fact, there’s something oddly comforting in the detached professionalism of the drow’s touch, in the precise press of her fingers as she searches for a vein. Her fingers are cold, and as she trails them down Naia’s arm, she leaves goosebumps in her wake.

Araj is silent as she locates her desired point of study, even as she picks up the scalpel and vial. It’s only when she presses the sharp blade into Naia’s skin that she releases a small sigh of contentment.

Naia herself barely reacts to the cut; this pinprick is nothing compared to other injuries she’s received these last few weeks. Her muscles barely quiver at all as she watches Araj stare at the trickling blood, bright red against pale ashen skin.

“I wasn’t sure you’d have any to give at all,” Araj murmurs as the blood slowly collects into the vial, which she keeps in place with a summoned Mage Hand. “You look half a corpse already.”

“With your proficiency for astounding scientific observations, you might have noticed I am a necromancer.”

“That’s hardly an excuse, darling. I know Balthazar considers himself a genius, but you needn’t go following his example. You’ll decay into a boring old husk and lose the pleasure of this.” The scalpel presses just a little harder, and Naia releases a sharp hiss of a gasp- more in irritation than anything else, she insists to herself.

“Isn’t it a beautiful thing?” Araj continues blithely, her voice sinking into that awful, sensual rhythm of hers. “The bite of the pain…the slow drip of the blood…the fragility of the connection as your lifeblood spills for the sake of another’s pleasure…have you truly never been tempted by the idea?”

“Hard as it may be for you to believe,” Naia bites out, “vampirism has never appealed to me.”

Araj’s dreamy expression shifts into a pout. “No…of course not. That’s not quite your type, is it? But what about that Sharran that used to cling to you? Does she not spill blood for her goddess? Is her devotion so different from my desire?” As she speaks, she studies Naia’s reaction, a single eyebrow raised as a taunting lilt enters her tone. “Where is she now, by the way?”

The mention of Shadowheart does more to affect Naia than Araj’s little blade ever could…but she’ll be damned if she lets Araj see that. “Nowhere that is any of your business.”

Araj sighs, a taunting, pitying sound. “Nor yours, I should think. Those Sharrans always did guard their shrine so jealously. Is that why you’re here alone? Has she gone and locked herself away from you, to better offer herself up to something grander?”

“Do you remember when I threatened to rot the flesh from your bones?” Magic flares in time with Naia's anger, and the air around them grows colder. But Araj hardly seems intimidated; in fact, she chuckles.

“How could I forget?” Her lips curl upwards in amusement at Naia’s answering silence. “Let the Sharrans have their hiding hole, I say. Their dark lady will never deliver on her promises, no matter how much they bleed on her behalf. That is where the gods and I differ. I could show you something truly worth your pain.”

Cold fingers curl over Naia’s arm, and Naia wants both to pull away from the touch and lean in closer. It’s a foolish notion, and more than that it is petty…but Naia must admit, not all of the anger she carries today is pointed towards Araj. Something in her chest does ache at the way Shadowheart has closed herself off in the walls and shadows of that temple.

So when she should withdraw and snap once more at Araj to back off, Naia instead locks her dark eyes on the drow’s face and allows herself to lean the smallest bit forward. “And just what does that mean, blood-witch?”

“Are you interested in finding out, necromancer?”

“…I might be.”

Araj hums, and she shifts ever closer to Naia. Her tongue darts out to lick at her lips, and her fingernails dig just a little deeper into Naia’s arm. Where once she’d been standing above the tiefling as she drew her blood, she’s now practically in her lap, and her leg slides slowly against the skirt of Naia’s robes.

“Isn’t that adorable…” Araj breathes. “All your bluster, and you wish to be the one at my mercy? Are you imagining my teeth at your neck, your blood on my lips?”

Naia wasn’t. But Gods, she is now.

She swears Araj must be able to read her mind, because her eyes gleam even more viciously. Those eyes roam over Naia’s body, taking her in with an air of greed. Silver hair has fallen from where it was tucked behind her ear, and Naia is struck with the inane urge to brush it from her face- yet she also finds herself frozen in place, unable to move even as Araj presses herself closer. Naia’s stomach twists in a heated combination of anxiety and anticipation.

And then Araj pulls away, twisting a stopper onto the vial which Naia had all but forgotten about. “Done.”

A shaky breath escapes Naia’s lips; blood trickles down her arm from the cut left unattended. Araj stows away the small glass vial and returns to Naia’s side in a flash; her thumb traces over the cut, and with a small surge of unexpected healing magic the skin stitches itself back together. The blood remains, and Araj’s touch is not quite gentle as she smears it with her thumb and runs her hand down Naia’s arm, leaving red fingerprints down to Naia’s wrist.

“You were a perfect specimen, darling. What a shame it is, then, that I prefer to be the one bitten,” Araj muses as she lifts Naia’s wrist to her mouth. Her lips press a kiss against Naia’s thudding pulse; her teeth graze and tease at the skin, but nothing more, and then she’s pulling away again with a violently victorious edge to her voice as she whispers, “Were I so inclined, I’m certain you would be delicious.”

She then turns back to her assembly of vials, and her professional demeanor settles into place even as Naia is left half-frozen in the chair. The tiefling swallows and shakes her head, and finally regains enough composure to ask, “What about…”

“Your potion?” Araj responds innocently, throwing a smirk over her shoulder. “It will take some time to prepare. You may return for it tomorrow.”

It’s a clear dismissal, one that leaves Naia’s head reeling, as if she’s just lost a round of lanceboard she hadn’t even realized she was playing. But she rises to her feet, ordering her legs not to shake as she does so, forcing herself back to the state of passive distaste she’d held before Araj sunk her scalpel in.

“Tomorrow, then, if you insist on dragging your feet. I would have thought someone who thinks so highly of themselves would be capable of a quicker delivery, but I suppose even that is too much to expect in a place like this.”

It’s a weak barb, but it’s enough to let Naia leave with some small semblance of pride still intact, and to let herself pretend she does not feel Araj’s smug, crimson gaze on her as she goes.

[e1dritchqueer]

I'm excited to have a fall again

[michaelmilligan]

Dietary permissions

Written for the Midam year-end exchange for @midamdotlivejournaldotcom. I could not resist the Midamoul prompt. <3

(Read on AO3)

Sam's first clue that something was up was that the bunker door wasn't locked.

A part of him considered that he might not have locked it when he last left, though he was pretty sure that he had. The next explanation that his brain jumped to was that Dean had been in after him, and had forgotten to lock it.

Then he remembered that Dean was...

His mind slipped off the thought like a well-oiled slide, something it was very practised at by now.

It could have been Eileen, Sam supposed, or Claire, or any of the other people they'd given a key over the years. But most of them were rarely ever at the bunker, or would have called beforehand.

Given all this, Sam drew his gun before he even walked down the stairs. He cocked it, but aimed it at the ground, just in case the intruder wasn't a threat after all.

There was a young woman near the table in the War Room, tall and broad-shouldered and wearing a hoodie with colourful characters on it that some distant part of Sam's brain recognized as 'She-Ra' – Jack might have been watching that at some point, he thought.

In any case, the woman was watching him come down the stairs, a frown on her face but no signs of aggressiveness in her behaviour. Which might have been a good sign, or a very bad one, since often the creatures that stayed calm were the most dangerous ones.

The ones who knew that they didn't have anything to fear from a single hunter.

“Who are you?” Sam asked, raising his gun a little.

The woman narrowed her eyes further, long brown hair moving as she cocked her head. Then her eyes widened again as something like recognition passed across her features.

“You must be Sam. The tall brother.”

Sam stopped where he had been slowly advancing on her. Brother? What was she talking about? Well, she might just be one of the myriad of supernatural beings who knew about them. Angels, demons, even run-of-the-mill monsters seemed to have heard about the Winchesters by now.

But didn't she know that Dean was...

“Maybe,” he said carefully, then twitched when someone stepped into the doorway, some feet to his left.

The man who stood there was certainly better known to Sam. Or rather the angel – it always took Sam a moment to remember that Adam looked older now, more his actual age, while Michael had retained the youthful look of when he'd first used Adam as a vessel.

Sam never knew whether to be thankful that Michael was using a different body now, or to be severely creeped out because, given the choice of making himself look however he wanted, Michael had chosen to look like 19-year-old Adam.

“Sam,” Michael said, in that way of his that always managed to sound condescending, even on a single syllable. Then he turned towards the woman. “Is he bothering you?”

“Not really. I'd feel a bit better if he weren't pointing a gun at me, though,” the woman replied, gesturing vaguely in Sam's direction.

After a suspicious glance at Michael, Sam angled his gun back at the ground. “Sorry, but who are you? And how did you two get in here?”

She gave him a thin smile. “Us two?” she asked, just as someone else stepped up behind Michael, peering over his shoulder.

This one also sported Adam's blond hair and blue eyes, but his grin was too wide and his teeth seemed too sharp. Sam winced, the memory of bleeding out, of knives and fingers boring into his flesh, rising unbidden in his mind.

He pushed those images down.

“Ghoul,” he said dryly.

“Hey Sam,” the Ghoul said, squeezing past Michael, who was still blocking the doorway. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Ghoul licked his lips and Sam took a step back. While Adam always insisted that the guy – monster – was reformed and didn't harm anyone anymore, Sam had little reason to trust that assessment. See, Adam seemed to have this problem of latching onto and forgiving supernatural beings who looked like him. Even if they had ruined his life, or, like in the Ghoul's case, ended it.

“This is my-” Sam started, then didn't know how to finish it, the word 'home' feeling wrong after not living there for almost two years now. “My... bunker.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “This is the bunker of the Men of Letters. Of which Adam is a descendant, too.”

“Is that why you're here?” Sam asked, and flinched again when the Ghoul's grin widened.

“Nope. Adam doesn't want anything with your dark, stinky little underground tomb – his words, not mine. I think he meant it as an insult, which is a bit mean. I find it very nice, as far as tombs go. But anyway, we needed something from here and Jackie boy let us in, so.” He shrugged.

“Jack?” Sam asked, something between thrilled and alarmed.

He rarely saw Jack these days. While he had apparently stepped down from the position of God, and had released Amara back into the world, he was still usually busy in Heaven. And Hell. And Purgatory.

Rarely ever on Earth.

Sam glared at the Ghoul, who had been one of the beneficiaries of Jack's first stumbling attempts as God. Confused as to who was the right one, he had brought back both Adam and Ghoul. This was before he'd later (intentionally) gotten Michael and a bunch of other angels from the Empty.

“Yes. We've been looking for a specific spell, and the bunker seemed like a good place to start.” Michael looked over his shoulder, then back at Sam. “While a lot of the books in the library are complete nonsense, some are actually very helpful.”

“Nonsense?” Sam gaped at him. This was one of the biggest collection of lore books the USA had to offer. And Michael called it nonsense?

“Yeah, a bunch of it is so funny,” Ghoul said, stepping closer towards Sam. “Like. The stuff about angels is so wrong. And there's one that says Ghouls can only survive on rotten flesh?! Like, what the hell, right? You know that's not true, don't cha Sammy.”

Sam tensed, but refused to back down even one more step. “Stay away from me,” he hissed instead.

“Oh, come on. I'm not gonna eat you! … Again.”

Ghoul grinned, while the woman, whose name Sam still didn't know, frowned at him.

“You ate him?”

“Well, I tried to. Didn't work out very well.”

“Sam killed him,” Michael said matter-of-factly, which made Ghoul whirl around to him.

“Not true! It's actually Dean that killed me. Bashed my head in and all. Very gruesome, 2/10. Or 10/10, if you like it gorey.”

“What the fuck is this family,” the woman said, shaking her head.

“Complicated,” Michael said.

“You killed Adam!” Sam blurted out, which got him a raised eyebrow from Michael and an eye roll from Ghoul.

“That was one time!”

“Seriously,” the woman said, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “can you be normal for like, five minutes?”

“No,” Ghoul and Michael said at the same time.

“Guys?” a voice much like theirs came from the hallway, and soon enough Adam stepped into the room, Michael making way for him. “Have you seen my- oh.”

He made a face at seeing Sam.

“Adam,” Sam said, somewhat relieved. While he didn't really think Michael would let Ghoul harm Adam, it was always good to have confirmation that he was still alive and well.

Especially since he had a tendency to avoid Sam's calls.

“I feel like someone should introduce me before you all devolve into yelling,” the woman said. She had sat down at the edge of the table by now, looking between them all with an unimpressed expression.

“Why do you think we're gonna start yelling?” Adam asked, and she just raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged, apparently conceding the point.

“This is Kristin,” Ghoul said, gesturing to her like he was introducing a comedy act, “Adam's ex.”

Silence descended over the room as the woman – Kristin – pursed her lips.

“Thanks, G,” she said dryly, “real glad you left out the part about me being a lawyer and a witch, or, you know, the nerd's childhood friend. Yeah, no, reduce me to that one time I snogged him. Real cool.”

“I mean. It was a good snogging,” Adam said.

She huffed and threw him another unimpressed look, which made Sam suddenly realize why she was making him slightly uncomfortable.

Her mannerisms were similar to Michael's, to the point where he might have believed he'd taken a new vessel, if he hadn't been standing a few feet across from Sam at that very moment. The way she held herself, back straight and head raised, alert at all times as if anticipating an attack, while also not seeming particularly tense – making it clear that she was aware of her own strength, and wasn't above using it.

That, more than meeting Ghoul again, would be haunting Sam for the next few weeks.

“Don't overestimate yourself, loser,” Kristin said, a slight curl on her lips.

“Adam is an excellent kisser,” Michael protested.

“Says the archangel who's never kissed anyone else,” she countered.

“Not true! He's kissed me,” Ghoul butted in, and went to hang off Michael's arm, making kissing noises.

Since Ghoul had also been imitating a 19-year-old Adam and had started ageing in this body after getting back out from Purgatory, he should have looked as old as Adam. Instead, he looked pretty much the same as Michael. Maybe a tad older, but the difference was negligible. He also still very much looked like the kid Sam had – or thought he had – met in Windom, back in the days.

Back when Ghoul had pretended to be Adam, and had tried to eat Sam.

When Sam looked back at him, Ghoul was grinning in his direction, showing his slightly too-sharp teeth again. Sam never knew whether that was actually something Ghoul had changed about himself, or if it was all in his head.

In any case, the grin sent a shiver down Sam's spine. It looked as if Ghoul was saying 'Good times, right?' and Sam wondered, not for the first time, if Ghoul could somehow read his thoughts.

If Michael had answered Ghoul's statement, Sam hadn't heard it.

“Anyway, has anyone seen my phone?” Adam asked, looking between everyone in the room.

Ghoul and Michael glanced at each other, and Ghoul shook his head.

He was still hanging off Michael's arm.

“Okay, love-birds, fess up,” Adam said, confronting Ghoul and Michael. “If you admit taking it, I'm not even gonna be mad. At least you'd be working together for a change.”

Michael scowled. “I didn't work with him. And I don't have your phone.”

“Me either!” Ghoul cried. “You know I don't like the thing, it's so loud and bright.”

“Which is exactly why you would hide it.” Adam looked between them critically. “Alright, fine, but if I find it in the fridge or something, you two are sleeping on the couch.”

Sam winced at the reminder of just how close their relationship was.

“Maybe you left it at home,” Michael suggested.

“No, I didn't- huh. Well. I did put it on the coffee table this morning...”

“Sam?” Jack suddenly had stepped into the room, looking cheerful as ever.

Sam looked him up and down for any signs of discomfort or pain, but couldn't find any. Relieved, he finally let a smile spread on his face. “Jack.”

Mirroring his smile, Jack came towards him and offered a hug, which Sam was only too happy to accept. As he wrapped him in his arms, Jack's face pressed to his shoulder, it was easy to forget for a moment where they were or who was with them.

All that mattered was that Jack was here right now, safe and-

“Please tell me you didn't eat my phone,” Adam said, sounding exasperated.

When Sam reluctantly looked back at them, slowly releasing Jack, Ghoul was pouting.

“Of course I didn't eat it. Plastic isn't tasty at all.”

“You do like crunchy things though,” Michael interrupted, and Sam really didn't want to imagine how he knew this. “And things that zap you a little.”

“Sure, but I have you for that, what would I need a silly little phone for?”

Michael sighed and rolled his eyes, but he seemed fond in a way that turned Sam's stomach a little.

“So, uh,” he said, holding onto Jack's shoulder. “I'm just here to pick up some stuff from my room, but can I help you guys with anything?”

Not that he wanted to spend any extended amount of time around Michael or the Ghoul. Though if he wanted to see Adam, that was pretty much a must these days.

And right now, if he wanted to spend time with Jack, it seemed he needed to make that same sacrifice.

“So,” Sam said, following Jack towards a particular shelf in the library, glancing around to make sure that the others weren't listening. “What kind of spell are you looking for?”

“Actually it's more a part of a spell. Rowena already gave us some tips on what we could use, but we need to do modifications. And we thought since the Men of Letters have info on all kinds of monsters, their library could offer some insights.” Jack pulled a book from the shelf and frowned at the title. Then he thumbed through the first few pages.

“A monster? Are you trying to kill something?”

Jack's mouth pulled into a tight line. “No. And it's not an it. It's Ghoul.” Closing the book, Jack turned towards Sam, an almost rebellious expression on his face. “I know you don't like him, but he's Adam's friend. That means something, right?”

While Sam wasn't sure that 'friend' was the right word for whatever Adam and Ghoul were, Jack did have a point.

“Yeah, you're right. Sorry, I didn't know it was about him. And yeah, it's... it's difficult for me to wrap my head around...” Sam turned his head towards the entrance to the library, where Ghoul was leaning his head on Michael's shoulder while the latter glared at him out of the corner of his eyes. “It's just... new.”

There wasn't really much more to say about it. Oh, sure, Sam could have talked about how he didn't trust the thing that had almost eaten him, or about how he was pretty sure that even now, Ghoul wasn't living solely off corpses. He had seen his mouth bloodstained more than once.

But Jack would already know that, or at least he would find reasons to defend whatever it was Ghoul did. The kid always tried to see the good in people – not a bad characteristic at all, and Sam really, really wanted to be on the same page with him about this, but he also couldn't help how his neck prickled and his arms ached while Ghoul was in the same room.

He could almost feel the blood dripping down his arms again. He shivered.

“It has to be really weird for you. I'm sorry.” Jack gave him a sympathetic smile. “But we're looking for a way to change a ghoul's metabolism so they can live off animal meat. That should be something you can get behind, right?”

“Animal meat?” Sam gaped at him. “Oh, that's- that's great! Did Adam suggest this?”

“No, Ghoul requested it. It's...” Jack bit his lower lip. “I figured you'd like it.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Now motivated, Sam took a few book out of the shelf. “Let's build ourselves a spell.”

They spent several hours in the library before they found what they needed. Michael even, though reluctantly, showed Sam the basic spell they had gotten from Rowena. This wasn't the first time Sam had to admit Rowena's genius, and it probably wouldn't be the last. The spell was meant to work on humans and had probably been created for far more nefarious purposes than what they were trying to do, but with a few tweaks here and there, it should work nicely.

It would remain to be seen if it worked long-term, though that was how it was intended. Basically, the ghoul's metabolism would be re-arranged to closer resemble that of a human, drawing energy from all sorts of meat and maybe even other types of food.

In fact, Sam was so elated that once they had found the necessary information, he left the tweaking of the spell to Michael and Kristin, and went to the kitchen to prepare a little snack for everyone.

Unfortunately, the pantry mostly held canned food and some crackers that had probably expired in the 50's. There was nothing in the fridge except a few emergency beers and – Sam decided not to touch whatever it was that was leaking red liquid through its wrapping.

“What are you looking for?” Adam's voice asked behind him.

When Sam glanced back, he jumped as he recognized Ghoul. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he could imitate Adam so well. Or rather, his version of 'Adam' was the first one Sam had encountered, and his brain stubbornly refused to not associate the big innocent eyes and friendly voice with Adam. Even though Sam had long known that the real Adam was far less sympathetic to him.

Maybe, once this was over and done with and Ghoul no longer needed to feed on people, Sam could actually let himself be friends with him.

Maybe. Potentially.

They would see.

“I was just checking if we had anything to eat. But I guess no one's been going grocery shopping for the last two years or so.” Sam gave Ghoul a somewhat crooked smile. “What about you, looking for something you can eat after the spell is done?”

“Me? I've got all the food I can ask for.” Ghoul licked his lips, his expression dreamy for a moment. “Well, one of my snacks is off to fetch my dad right now, but they should be back any second now.”

Sam blinked at him. “Your dad?”

“Yeah! Didn't Jack tell you? We're doing the spell for him. And my sis if she wants to, she's been very on the fence. You know she also likes human flesh.” As if hearing a sound, Ghoul threw a look over his shoulder. “Oh, I think they're back. Mikey works fast. Good thing I didn't snack on his wings today.”

Ghoul winked at Sam, then walked out of the kitchen.

The spell was for his dad? And Ghoul ate... Michael?!

Wait, Ghoul had called him 'one of' his snacks. Did that mean he ate Adam, too?!

Sam was going to be sick.

It took him several minutes to put himself together enough to go back to the library. There, he met Ghoul's father, who had kind grey eyes and a salt-and-pepper beard, and was wearing a Christmas sweater.

Sam had to actively remind himself that those weren't his original eyes, since he likely looked like the last person he'd eaten.

“This is a lovely...” Ghoul's dad looked around the room, probably noting the lack of windows. “Um.”

“Bunker,” Ghoul told him, one hand circling his dad's wrist. “Dad, are you ready? You can compliment this tomb later.”

Sam was offended at that word for about half a second, then remembered that Ghoul had grown up in graveyards. Maybe tomb was just what he called houses?

“Well it's a nice bunker,” Ghoul's dad said, and gave Sam an apologetic smile. Almost as if to say 'kids, am I right?'

“So can we start ooooor....” Ghoul was behaving like a child at the moment. He even pouted when his father rolled his eyes.

“Don't be so impatient, sweetie. But yes, we can start.”

The spell only took a few minutes to cast. While Kristin did most of the work, Sam and Michael helped with the runes and ingredients.

Afterwards, Ghoul's dad stayed standing on the rune, looking a little dazed.

“Dad?” Ghoul asked timidly, stepping over the paint on the dungeon floor. “You okay?”

“Yes, I...” Ghoul's father blinked. “My stomach feels funny.”

“That could mean it's working,” Michael pointed out.

“Brilliant deduction,” Kristin said, closing the book she'd been reciting from. “Well, it might be good to let your body settle for a bit, see if there are more changes to come. Though if I know anything about these guys, they'll want to know immediately.” She gave Ghoul and Adam pointed looks.

“You could try eating something. We bought steaks,” Adam suggested.

So that was in the fridge. Sam relaxed for a moment, then remembered why they didn't have to bring fresh human meat. Because Ghoul apparently ate both Michael and Adam!

“I could eat,” Ghoul's dad said carefully. “Maybe just a little bit, to test it.”

“You were already able to stomach anything beforehand, this is more a question of what gives you energy.” Michael frowned. “Though your digestive tract may be upset for a bit because of the changes.”

Ghoul's dad sighed. “Well,” he said, and put on a smile. “Guess we'll just have to try. If I have to hit the shitter afterwards, so be it.”

“Daaaaad,” Ghoul complained, and pouted again.

Adam snickered, and took the arm of Ghoul's dad. “Let's get you a snack then. Oh, by the way, did you watch the movie we talked about?”

“Yes. It was very interesting. Though I was a little bit confused at the cultural relevance of gingerbread houses...”

They kept talking amicably all along the hallway, followed by Ghoul and Jack. This left Sam behind with Michael and Kristin, who seemed to be content to clear away any evidence of the spell.

“Does he... not know about Christmas traditions?” Sam asked, perplexed.

“He has been living outside of human society, what do you think?” Michael said, unimpressed.

“But ghouls have the memories of their victims, right?”

“Firstly, they can only retain the memories of whoever they ate last, at least with any sort of clarity. Everything from previous people fades very fast. And secondly, corpses don't preserve memories forever. A living human, or a fresh corpse, would transfer a lot of memories. But by the time father would have eaten someone, the memories would already have been significantly degraded.”

Sam stared at him. The info was fascinating, but there was a far more pressing issue here. “Father?!”

Michael looked away, suddenly very intent on picking up all the candles.

“He is his father-in-law,” Kristin said. “It's not unusual to call him that.”

“He's- they're not- are they??”

“You're not making any sense,” Kristin said dryly, then turned towards Michael. “Didn't you say he was the smart brother?”

“Well.” Michael shrugged, and made eye contact with Sam for about half a second. “Smart for a Winchester.”

With that, he walked out of the room.

Just as Sam thought his mind couldn't be reeling any more, Kristin put a hand on his shoulder.

“You should get your eyes checked out. Because these guys really aren't all that subtle with the PDA.” She patted his back for a moment, then walked out too.

Sam very rarely drank anymore these days, but right now he desperately needed a whiskey.

[tiredassmage]

bestie i still couldn't tell you what the deal is between shae and heta. all i know is that heta gets about 500 extra bonus points for freely putting my little pixel guys in a Situation like. for free. that's part of the story. absolutely delicious, 1000/10 absolutely zero notes. she's busy kicking her feet and cooing at her little guy. lost the plot about five minutes ago.

[throwaway-yandere]

Hi! Love your work so much and I adore the effort you put into your stuff. I'm making a genshin otome and was wondering if it'd be okay to ask for a promo of sorts in the future? It's absolutely completely 100% valid and understandable if you don't wish to promo other works in your own blog though! I just wanted to ask first for permission or whether it's okay or not! Thanks for reading! Love ya <3

Love your work so much

Press X to doubt, you sound saner than an average reader

Okay kidding aside, I'm not exactly the most influential/popular person so I'm not sure how I'd be able to help but I can reblog it(?) for sure! I enjoy genshin and otome games so yeah!!! Even if you didn't read my works I'd still look forward to this lmao. Wish you the best in making the game <333

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

oop found this in my drafts! might as well post! they become quite close in this au - thats what happens when youve only got each other for a Very Long Stressful Time <3 these are just fragments of scene ideas that came from my single braincell hitting corner perfect <3

[pirateborn-a]

{ Hope this isn’t too late but [REFUGE] from little Buggy because Roger deserves to protecc and attacc ♥️ -indomiitas }

A COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF SCENARIOS.  —  @indomiitas

➣    REFUGE :  for one muse to shelter the other from enemies. 

✧.    The door burst apart into a shower of splinters from how he sent a man flying through it. Careless of the mess he’d just made, Roger calmly walked over the unconscious body and shattered wood into the room. Conquerors haki moving alongside him, freezing the crowd within. From what he’d gathered, the fort on the island had once been a marine base, since abandoned and repurposed by some local pirates. In other news, a bunch of idiotic rookies, hardly worth any of their time. And how easy it would be, he could tell, to end it there and then. But, no. That wasn’t quite right, not when they’d already called upon his wrath.

     Messily wiping some blood still dripping down his fist, he scanned the room for the familiar presence he’d been following. The tension in his shoulders draining, mouth cracking into a smile, as he caught Buggy’s eyes.

“ There’s where you went off to, Buggy. I thought it was odd when you weren’t with Shanks and Gaban, ”   his voice was light with amusement with a brief chuckle before he turned his attention towards the pirate with an iron vice on Buggy’s arm.

“ Get your hands off of my cabin boy, would you, lad ? ”  his tone remaining merry, a grin stretching further across his face, though he left no room for argument as he forced the man to shrivel and choke underneath his gaze. Watching with satisfaction as the color drained from the bastard's face, unable to stop himself. So maybe he went a little overboard. Maybe the man was a little more dead than he’d intended.

Good riddance, really. As far as it concerned him.

     Ignoring the rest of the pirates within the room, he quickly made his way towards his boy, kneeling down in front of him and placing his blood-free hand gently on Buggy’s shoulder, giving him a look over for any signs of injury. To his relief, he found nothing —  before catching sight of the beginnings of a bruise forming both on his boy’s arm and cheek.

How dare they.

     He briefly closed his eyes, a silent breath exhaling out as he forced his haki to keep in check. The last thing he wanted to do was let go of his control in front of Buggy. The boy had gone through enough for the night.

     And it was his fault. It was his fault for not being a better captain. It was his fault for not stopping this all before it could even begin. But there would be time to think about all that later. Not now, when there were the culprits still wrongfully breathing behind them.

It was the thought of the life leaving their eyes that ultimately soothed him.

“ You’ve been so brave, my boy. I’m so proud of you, ”   Roger said, gentle and firm, easing his smile as he reopened his eyes to look at Buggy with warmth. Gingerly patting him on the bruise-free cheek,   “ You did a good job. Now go along and run ahead to the ship, okay ?  And whatever you do, don’t turn around. Don’t look back. That is an order, as your captain. ”

     It was unusual for him to pull out that card, his voice uncharacteristically serious. It was true, he was their captain, and they were his. But he rarely felt the need ever to state it. He just needed to make sure that Buggy would listen, just this once.

“ Wahaha, I’ll be back before sunrise, ”   he continued reassuringly, his voice warm once again,   “ Let Rayleigh know and that he's in charge until I return, and try to save some food for me as well ! ”

     He left no room for argument, spinning the child around and pushing him towards the exit lined with the bodies he’d left behind earlier. It was only once he was sure Buggy was far enough away — at least outside the door — that he turned his gaze towards the group of pirates within the room. His smile sharpening, stretching across his face as the haki he tried so hard to hold back since he’d first heard Buggy was missing, finally crashing outwards like a tidal wave. The unfortunate handful who were chosen to be victims collapsed like a tower of cards, suffocating until they foamed at the mouth, but freeing the others from that unyielding grip at the same time. After all, there was no fun in ending things prematurely.

“ I don’t appreciate those who try to harm what’s mine, ”   he speaks out casually, rumbling laughter in his chest as his enemies finally snapped out of their trance and attacked, guns firing his way. Each bullet was dodged with laughable ease as he continued to walk towards them, pausing only once to catch a bullet aimed at his face with two fingers, carelessly crushing it like a leaf before tossing it over his shoulder with a snicker at how laughable it all was. He closed the distance soon after, his hand reaching out to grab the nearest man’s face and slamming it into the ground with bloodlust, grinning all the while.

     It couldn’t even be called a fight. None of them were worthy. Weak, weak, weak, and weak. Yet, despite the lack of challenge, he relished every sound of bone and cartilage cracking underneath his bare fists— they weren’t even worth drawing out his blade. The image of Buggy’s bruised arm and terrified expression burned in his mind, driving him onward with an undeniable need to make these bastards suffer because nobody messed with his crew —

     Far too quick. Far too little. Far, far too little. Rage still burned in his body, demanding more. He would get more, even if it meant combing through the entire island himself. And sure, he might be scolded later, especially with Buggy now safe. But what if there was a next time ?  What if there was a next time, and that time, Roger was too late before Buggy got hurt ?  What if next time, there were others along with Buggy ?  What if, what if, what if ?

     There wouldn’t be a next time, he was determined. As long as he was around to protect his boys and his crew, he would do it until his dying breath. But that wasn’t enough, apparently. He had to make it crystal clear that those he claimed were not to be harmed. No matter the fool who thought otherwise.

     The room was filled with prone bodies, some of whom were there originally, some who were meant to be reinforcements. Most of them were dead, with some just alive enough to later tell the tale of what one should expect when choosing to harm one of Gol D. Roger’s. There was only one left conscious, and he pulled the shriveling man up by the scalp, his blood stained hand firmly gripping the other’s chin, forcing him to look up at his grinning face.

“ That was a bit of fun, wasn’t it ? ”   his voice remaining cheerful, uncaring at how the man whimpered in his grasp,   “ Now, be a good man and tell me where the rest of you rats hiding. I’m not leaving until I’m sure I’ve made my message clear to each and every one last of you. ”

[spotlightstudios]

Writing an essay and just typed "eyepads" instead of "Ipads" lmao-

This says something about me, but I couldn't tell you what... Anyways, if I finish these I can stop feeling stressed for a hot minute and just vibe. And Vibe usually equates to Drawing/Writing so wish me luck!

[averageskyplayer]

we did it, we won!

[fingertipsmp3]

Full disclosure I do not care if someone copies me. I quite literally do not give a shit. Maybe it’s just because I’m 28 and getting mad about someone “copying” you is high school shit, maybe it’s genuinely not a big deal, I don’t know. I could run into someone who’s wearing the same thing, head to toe, that I am and I would neither notice nor care

[whumptober]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

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

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

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

And the Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt post can be found here.

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

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

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

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

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

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

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

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

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

No. 5: SUNBURN

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

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

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

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

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

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

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

No. 9: OBSESSION

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

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

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

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

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

No. 12: STARVATION

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

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

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

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

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

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

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

No. 16: NECROSIS

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

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

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

No. 18: REVENGE

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

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

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

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

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

No. 21: BODY HORROR

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

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

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

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

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

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

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

No. 25: SURGERY

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

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

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

No. 27: VOICELESS

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

No. 28: DENIAL

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

No. 29: FATIGUE

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

No. 30: RECOVERY

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

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

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

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

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

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

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

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

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

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

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

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

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

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

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

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

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

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

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

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

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

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

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

PROMPTS

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

WORKS

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

POSTING

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

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