#whump sins

[whumpdoyoumean]

Turns out, unsurprisingly, that lack of follow-up/care is a pretty universally hated thing! Since we have now established that it is the Worst, I'm curious what other whump sin people really can't stand-- before the writers have the chance to fade to black, put in a time jump, or otherwise forget the whump ever happened.

[whumpsical]

my piece for @thewhumpyprintingpress ABCs of Whump zine!! Z for Zipties 💖 (get ur copy here 👀)

this was my first experience working on a zine project, i had a blast & learned a whole lot 🥰

[allyriadayne]

In a world where alicent is a nun and larys the priest confessor for the convent, he would 100% enjoy torturing her by making her feel like her petty sins are worse than they are just to make her even more dependant on his absolution. He tells her to flagellate herself ten times just for thinking she would be a better mother superior than sister rhaenyra (he makes her show him her back) and another time he tells her she must pray on her knees all night because she didn't confess the day before (so now she will confess in his rooms where he can truly see her). she's wrecked with guilt and anxiety and thinks she's going to hell if she doesn't beg for father larys' forgiveness every day at 4 pm sharp. all this because lyonel pledged larys' life to the church if god saved his wife but when she died, he sent larys anyway

[librathefangirl]

nnt hc: Demon Thermoregulation

Seeing as it has been featured in multiple of my fics now, I figured it was about time to actually develop and explain this headcanon :)

The short explanation of this headcanon is that the demons' thermoregulation works counteractive against the temperature of the environment. This means, you could say that it works reverse to human thermoregulation; demons go hot in cold environments and cold in hot environments. Of course, that is just the short, simplified answer. The long answer is a bit more complicated (because biology~), especially when you consider the differences between the Demon Realm (the demons' "natural habitat") and Britannia. So, that's what I'm going to explore more in this post.

Continue reading for explanations of:

How does the demons' thermoregulation work?

Why does it work like that?

What are the downsides? (aka the source of the whump >:])

Quick note: I will from here on talk like these are actual facts about the nnt demons, but it is, of course, just my headcanon :)

How does it work? (biology)

First of all, for those not familiar with the term, thermoregulation is defined as "the maintenance or regulation of temperature", and does in this case, specifically refer to the maintenance of a particular body temperature. Maintaining a stable temperature (within a certain range!) is crucial in order to keep the body functioning as it should. If the body temperature goes too low or too high, bad things happen (e.g. water freezing inside cells or vital enzymes and proteins breaking down). But what exactly that ideal temperature is, and how narrow of a range it allows, differs between different animals (e.g. in humans a normal body temperature is around 36-37°C (97-99°F).

Demons, having a different biology, also have a different ideal body temperature than humans. But before we get into that, I want to quickly talk about normal (or "real" if you will) thermoregulation, to help us better understand this headcanon. (If you absolutely do not care about this, just skip this next paragraph).

When it comes to thermoregulation in our world, animals can broadly be divided into two groups: endotherms (warm-blooded) and ectotherms (cold-blooded). Of course, there are exceptions to every rule and there are some animals that blur this line, but those aren't important here (this isn't a biology lesson, it's a hc demon biology lesson). Endotherms/warm-blooded animals, like humans and most mammals, rely on internal mechanisms to maintain their ideal body temperature. While they are still affected by the temperature of the environment, they are not dependent on the environment to regulate their own temperature. Instead, they achieve this by changing the amount of heat production and/or heat loss they experience. Ectotherms/cold-blooded animals, like reptiles and amphibians, on the other hand, have a dependent relationship between body temperature and the temperature of the environment. Meaning that not only do their body temperature change with the temperature of the environment, but they also rely on the environment to maintain their ideal body temperature. They regulate their body temperature, for example, through different behaviors such as basking in the sun (to raise their body temperature) or seeking shade (to lower their body temperature).

Demons are mostly considered endotherms/warm-blooded, because of how they regulate their body temperature. I did, however, once refer to them as "unorthodoxly cold-blooded" in an ask. This was because their relationship to the environment are more similar to ectotherms/cold-blooded animals (i.e. more dependent), despite the fact that they regulate their body temperature more in line with endotherms/warm-blooded animals (i.e. through internal mechanisms). So, yeah, demons are endotherms/warm-blooded, but not in the usual way. Now, this might sound a bit confusing, so let's take a closer look at what this means.

The biggest difference between demon and human thermoregulation (besides the ideal body temperature) is in how it is triggered. In humans, as you might know, the thermoregulation is triggered by changes in the body temperature itself. When a human is exposed to greater changes in the temperature of the environment, there is also a change in the body temperature (the body temperature is lowered in cold environments and raised in hot environments). These changes in the body temperature are detected by nerve cells called thermoreceptors. These thermoreceptors then send this information to the brain (specifically to the thermoregulatory center), which then responds with different mechanisms to either raise or lower the body temperature (depending on what is needed to maintain the ideal body temperature). In demons, on the other hand, the thermoregulation is triggered by changes in the temperature of the environment. These changes are detected by thermoreceptors located in the skin, which then (just like in humans) send information to the thermoregulatory center in the brain, which causes a response to change the body temperature through different mechanisms. Demon thermoregulation can, in other words, be described as preventative or counteractive. The demons' body temperature is raised or lowered in order to counteract the natural change in body temperature that occurs because of the temperature of the environment.

To give a concrete example: If a demon would go out into a colder environment, their thermoreceptors would warn their brain that the environment has gotten colder. Their body temperature would then be raised, through internal mechanisms, so that it would still end up at the ideal temperature when the body temperature is inevitably lowered by the coldness of the environment. In other words, the process would look the opposite to humans. A human's body temperature would go down (because of the temperature of the environment) and then back up (because of their thermoregulation), while a demon's body temperature would go up (because of their thermoregulation) and then back down (because of the temperature of the environment).

A lot of the mechanisms used in demon thermoregulation are similar to those in humans. These include: control of blood flow, metabolic activity, movements, and sweating. In order to raise the body temperature, demons restrict blood flow to the skin (to decrease heat loss to the environment), increase metabolic activity (to increase heat production), as well as experience behavioral changes like an increase in body movements (to increase heat production). In order to lower the body temperature, the opposite happens, demons increase blood flow to the skin (to increase heat loss), decrease metabolic activity (to decrease heat production), experience behavioral changes like more limited body movements (to decrease heat production), and sweat (to increase heat loss). However! Two things that do occur in humans but not in demons are shivering and goosebumps.

Demons don't shiver! (Is this part of the hc because the idea hit me and just wouldn't go away? Yes. But also-) Shivering, in humans, occurs as a reaction to a drop in body temperature and a need for more heat. One way to increase heat production is by increasing muscle activity, both voluntary (like rubbing one's hands together) and involuntary (like shivering). In other words, shivering is a means to raise the body temperature. But, since demon thermoregulation happens before the change in body temperature itself, shivering doesn't feel like it would be a really sustainable method for demons to raise their body temperature. I mean, they would be more or less constantly shivering whenever they're in colder-than-ideal environments. So, instead, they rely on other mechanisms to increase heat and raise the body temperature (see above), including voluntary muscle activity. Demons actually have a tendency to get hyperactive with their movements when in cold environments. How much movement, what kind, and how aware the demon themself is of these is also very individual.

Now, one could make a similar argument about sweating that I just made about shivering - and we have already established that demons do sweat - but I kinda disagree. I feel like there are more levels to sweating than there are to shivering. Meaning there would be less of a constant state of sweating and more of different levels of sweating that can be implemented in different situations, depending on the demon's current needs. Also demons are more used to adapting to hot environments and needing to lower their body temperature than they are to cold environments and needing to raise it (but more on this later). Furthermore, sweating in demons mostly occurs during the biggest changes in the temperature of the environment, and thus is used during situations that require a more rapid lowering of the body temperature. So, in other words, demons do sweat, but not as much as humans and just during specific circumstances. There are also differences between different types of demons, depending on what their respective ideal body temperatures are and what part(s) of the Demon Realm they live in.

Goosebumps! Just like shivering, goosebumps are also something demons don't experience. In humans, goosebumps are a (rather ineffective) attempt at trapping heat by raising the (very limited) body hair. A more effective example of trapping heat like this are birds fluffing their feathers. The same issues presented with shivering also apply to goosebumps. It just wouldn't be very sustainable (for most demons), considering how the demon thermoregulation works, that is, before the changes in body temperature itself. So, here as well, they rely on other mechanisms to raise their body temperature (again, see above). However, there are possibly some demons that do experience a raise of fur/hair or fluffing of feathers - but these demons would be ones with a much higher ideal body temperature, and wouldn't really be able to survive the colder winters in Britannia.

Why does it work like that? (need for heat)

Now that we've looked at the how, let's talk about the why. Like we've already established, demons, like other beings, have a need to maintain their body temperature within a certain range (to keep everything working properly). While there are differences between different demons, as a rule, the demons' ideal body temperature is higher than humans' (and the other races'). In other words, they also have a greater need for heat.

Okay, while this post isn't about headcanons about the Demon Realm's climate, I do wanna talk a bit about what kind of Demon Realm this hc is based upon (quick shout-out to @hihopelessromantics for discussing this with me <3). Because we know so little about this (the climate/temperature of the Demon Realm) in canon, but it plays a significant role in this hc. The Demon Realm is the demons' "natural habitat", meaning that their thermoregulation is adapted for that environment, and thus also works best under those conditions.

The Demon Realm is a hot environment. That is the basis of this hc, and also what I truly believe. I mean, we know of multiple demons who choose to walk around with little to no clothes in canon (and even if you could make the argument that their darkness might work as a substitute for clothes, some of them aren't wearing much of that either). So, yeah, the Demon Realm is hot. Of course, it is also a vast land, so it would only be natural to assume that there are some variations throughout the realm. Some parts are hotter, some are colder, but they can all be described as warm. And now comes the problem that "hot" and "warm" can also be subjective, depending on where you live and what kind of of climate/temperature you are used to - so, let's put it like this: the coldest parts of the Demon Realm are about the same temperature as a late spring/early fall in Britannia. And the hottest parts in the Demon Realm are volcanic and might be more or less inhabitable to your typical human.

Now, what does this "natural habitat" mean for the demons' thermoregulation? Well, for starters, it (and with it, their natural need for heat) means that the demons are more tolerant towards a rise in body temperature, rather than a drop in it. They can better handle hotter environments, and would have a less drastic reaction to the temperature of the environment going up (because they have less of a need to counter it). On the other hand, it also means that they are more sensitive to colder environments, especially environments that are colder than any found within the Demon Realm. These environments (like a full-blown Britannian winter) are not environments that demons would naturally encounter (although a lot of demons would/have visited Britannia), which means that they are prone to causing overreactions in their thermoregulation.

Exactly how sensitive a demon is to changes in temperature (and especially towards lower temperatures), and how high exactly they need to keep their body temperature, varies slightly between different types of demons and what part(s) of the Demon Realm they call home. Demons living strictly in the volcanic parts of the Demon Realm would have a higher need for heat and be more sensitive to a drop in temperature than demons who never set foot in those parts of the Demon Realm. By the same logic, demons who are adapted to and may visit more or all parts of the Demon Realm would be able to handle a wider range of temperatures.

What are the downsides? (cold environments)

Lastly, I wanna talk more about demons in cold environments. Like mentioned above, demons are more sensitive to lower temperatures and exposure to (particularly) cold environments may cause an overreaction in their thermoregulation. This happens because demons aren't used to handling these kinds of environments (due to the nature/climate of the Demon Realm) and their bodies don't fully know how to handle those temperature changes. When the demon's thermoregulatory center gets information of big drops in temperature, especially if those happen suddenly, you could say that it triggers a sort of panic - an oh shit, this might actually kill us kind of reaction. Of course, not every cold environment or (Britannian) winter causes an overreaction. But it tends to happen during sudden and/or prolonged exposure to cold temperatures, even more so the more intense/low those temperatures are.

The issue with environments that are colder than those in the Demon Realm is that the demons' thermoregulation doesn't always know quite when to stop. When there is a change in the temperature of the environment in the Demon Realm (regardless of if it's a raise or drop in temperature), the demon's thermoregulatory center knows which thermoregulatory mechanisms and how much of each is needed to counteract these changes in the temperature of the environment. Meaning, the ideal body temperature is maintained in the end, as it should. It might not be exactly the same body temperature in every environment (demons might be a bit warmer in cold environments and a bit colder in hot environments), but it stays within the acceptable range.

But in really cold environments (i.e. environments with lower temperatures than those in the Demon Realm), the demon's thermoregulatory center does not have the same basis or knowledge of what and how much is required to counter the change in temperature caused by the environment. Because of this an overreaction might occur; the ideal body temperature is not maintained. Instead the demon's body temperature is raised too much, beyond the acceptable range (because, again, the demon's thermoregulation doesn't know when to stop), and the demon risks overheating rather than freezing (as a human might risk in the same environment).

So, how do these overreactions present themselves in the demons, and how might the demon deal with them? Let's talk about a few things; starting with hyperactivity. Like mentioned before, demons have a tendency to become hyperactive with their body movements in cold environments (since muscle activity produces heat). Now how this hyperactivity might look varies. It can be anything from the smallest movements, like "vibrating" in place, to repeatedly rubbing their hands together, to bigger movements like continuously pacing around. These can also range from the demon being completely aware of them, choosing to do each movement, to these movements being done more or less unconsciously. For demons with less awareness of their movements they might even need someone else to help them realize they're doing them, and also, either by themselves or with help from others, be reminded to "calm down" or "stop moving".

Stopping an overreaction from happening or stopping one that is already happening, can be tricky. One way to do this is to lessen the thermoregulatory response happening, or at the very least the effect of it. This, of course, is a lot easier said than done, but one way to do it can be like mentioned above, that is trying to lessen the amount of movements the demon makes (less movements equals less heat production). Another way is to change the environment or the temperature of the environment. Striving to change the environment the demon is currently in is a basic need or goal for the demon. The overreaction happening is the demon's body telling them "this is dangerous, we need to get somewhere hotter". In other words, getting to a hotter environment or trying to make the current environment warmer is a way for the demon to stop the overreaction. A change to a hotter environment would change the information being sent to the thermoregulatory center and thus also the thermoregulation happening. A hotter environment would require a less drastic response, and might even fall within the kind of temperature change the demon's body is used to handling - in other words, the overreaction could be turned into a regular reaction.

The last thing I want to talk about today is the matter of clothes. The demon's clothes are a bit of a double-edged sword when it comes to cold environments. On one hand, removing clothes is a means for the demon to keep themself from overheating; because, as we all probably know, removing clothes makes us colder (wearing a layer of clothes reduces heat loss). But at the same time, removing clothes creates direct contact between the demon's skin and the temperature of the environment. Keeping a layer of clothing between the skin and the environment would lessen the input the thermoreceptors get, and thus also the information sent to the thermoregulatory center and the following thermoregulation response created. How a demon would tackle this clothing dilemma would vary between demons (and personalities) and also the situation at hand. One major factor of this could be whether or not an overreaction is happening. If keeping the clothes on would keep an overreaction from occurring then that might be the wisest decision for the demon. But if the demon could remove clothes without causing an overreaction then that could be their best course of action, since it would probably have the biggest effect on their current body temperature. In other words, there is no easy answer to whether or not removing their clothes would help or hurt their situation; it all depends.

Anyway! There is probably more stuff I could say about this headcanon, but this was all I had for this post. If you made it all to the end, congrats! I hope you liked it :)

[adams-sinful-wings]

Mercy

Prostitute, Pregnant, and Sick Adam gets some help

The streets of Hell were alive with their usual grim chaos—shadows flickering under dim, blood-red lights and the air thick with the acrid stench of sulfur. Adam shuffled back to his usual street corner, his every step labored and uneven. The broken concrete underfoot pressed painfully against his swollen feet, their sharp edges making him wince. He adjusted his threadbare cloak, pulling it tight against his feverish skin. The garment wasn’t much of a disguise, but it was enough to obscure the curve of his belly that seemed to grow heavier with every passing day.

He leaned against a cracked wall, the jagged stone pressing uncomfortably into his shoulder blades. The fever burning under his skin left him flushed and clammy, and every breath came with a shallow rasp. He tried to appear indifferent, as though he wasn’t battling both illness and desperation, but his body betrayed him—a slight tremor in his hands, the faint wobble in his knees.

From the corner of his eye, Adam noticed a tall figure approaching. The demon’s silhouette stood out even among Hell’s chaotic backdrop. He was sharp in every sense of the word—angular cheekbones, piercing eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light, and a sense of presence that set Adam on edge.

The demon’s gaze was intense, sweeping over Adam with the kind of scrutiny that made his skin crawl.

“You working tonight?” the demon asked, his voice low and smooth, but with an undercurrent of something unreadable. The demon looked like a lion, though notably taller than Adam’s 10 foot stature.

Adam forced himself to smirk, masking the discomfort that curled in his gut. He straightened up, shifting his weight against the wall. “Depends on what you’re looking for. I’ve got a few... services.”

The demon tilted his head slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing. “What’s your rate?”

Adam licked his dry lips, his smirk widening. He leaned forward just enough to seem provocative without losing his balance. “One hundred bucks for a quick round. More if you’re into something... creative.”

The demon didn’t reply right away. His gaze lingered on Adam, but not in the usual way. There was no hunger in his eyes, no lecherous gleam. Instead, they roved over Adam’s flushed face, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, the way his fingers gripped the wall for support.

“You don’t look so good,” the demon said finally. “Are you okay?”

The question hit Adam like a slap—unexpected and unwelcome. His smirk faltered for half a second before he quickly recovered.

“I’m fine,” he said sharply, his voice tinged with defensiveness. “Just tired is all. You want me or not?”

The demon frowned, his expression more thoughtful than annoyed. His gaze dipped briefly to Adam’s swollen ankles, his trembling hands.

“You look like you’re about to collapse,” the demon said, his tone unnervingly calm.

Adam’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped. “I don’t need a lecture, okay? I need cash. You want to fuck or not?”

The demon held up his hands in a placating gesture, the movement almost disarming. “Alright, alright. How about this? Let’s go somewhere more private. I’ve got a place nearby.”

Suspicion prickled at the back of Adam’s mind. The streets of Hell were a breeding ground for ulterior motives, and no one offered anything without expecting something in return. But the dull ache radiating through his body and the clawing hunger gnawing at his stomach left him with little room for negotiation.

“Fine,” Adam muttered, pushing off the wall. “Lead the way.”

——————

The building they arrived at was nothing like Adam had expected. Instead of the gaudy, sinister architecture that dominated most of Hell’s infrastructure, this place was... simple. Its stone walls were plain but intact, and a faint, sterile smell hung in the air—a strange and unfamiliar contrast to the usual sulfur and decay.

The demon opened the door and gestured for Adam to step inside.

“This your place?” Adam asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

“Not exactly,” the demon replied. “I’m a doctor. I work here. Thought you might need some help.”

Adam froze in the doorway, every nerve in his body screaming at him to turn back. A doctor? In Hell? It didn’t make sense. No one helped anyone here unless there was something in it for them.

“A doctor?” Adam repeated, his tone sharp. “What’s the catch?”

The demon—doctor—sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with deliberate patience. “No catch. I saw how sick you looked out there. Thought you might need someone to look you over. Especially considering your... condition.”

His eyes flicked pointedly to Adam’s midsection, though his tone remained neutral.

Adam’s hand reflexively rested on his belly, his suspicion deepening. “Let me help you,” the doctor continued. “No charge. Just sit down and let me do my job.”

Adam hesitated, his instincts warring with his body’s exhaustion. The walls around him felt too close, the air too sterile. Everything about this situation screamed “trap.” But the dizziness swirling in his head and the persistent ache in his muscles left him no real choice.

Reluctantly, Adam stepped inside and shuffled over to the table, climbing up onto it with a wince. His swollen belly made it hard to find a comfortable position, and the ache in his legs only worsened as he sat. He glanced around the room, noting the neat rows of vials and medical equipment. His mind drifted back to something back when he was still under Valentino’s thumb. About how people possessing a medical kink. He flushed at the idea but if it can help pay for a few meals, he might as well play along.

“So, Doc,” Adam drawled, his voice laced with forced bravado. “What’s the prognosis? Am I gonna need some... hands-on attention?”

The doctor didn’t even look up from his stethoscope. “Take a deep breath,” he instructed.

Adam smirked faintly, inhaling theatrically before letting out a low, exaggerated sigh, letting a moan slip. “Oh, Doc, your touch is so... professional~.”

The doctor’s eyes flicked up, his expression deadpan. “I’m not playing games. Now breathe properly.”

Adam frowned but complied, his smirk fading slightly as the doctor worked in silence. The cold diaphragm of the stethoscope against his feverish skin was jarring, but it was the demon’s quiet efficiency that unsettled him most. There was no malice in his touch, no hidden hunger in his gaze. Just... focus.

As the doctor pressed gently against his abdomen, Adam flinched. “Easy there,” he muttered, trying to mask the discomfort. “You’re gonna break me.”

The doctor sighed, his expression softening just enough to make Adam feel exposed. “If you don’t slow down and start taking care of yourself, you’ll break on your own. And it won’t just be you who suffers.”

His hand rested lightly over Adam’s belly, the weight of his words settling heavily in the air. Adam’s lips parted, but no words came out. The weight of the doctor’s hand on his belly felt both grounding and unbearable, as though it pressed down on truths he’d been too scared to acknowledge.

“I don’t need a lecture,” Adam muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands clenched the edge of the exam table, nails digging into the padded surface. “I just need to make it through tonight.”

The doctor leaned back, his sharp features softening as he studied Adam. “And how many more nights do you think you can keep going like this? I’m guessing not many.”

Adam flinched at the bluntness of the words, but he didn’t deny them. The fever, the swelling, the constant hunger—it was all catching up to him faster than he’d thought. And yet, the idea of admitting weakness, of asking for help, was as foreign to him as the sterile smell of the doctor’s clinic.

The demon doctor sighed and stepped away, grabbing a small bottle from a nearby cabinet. “Here,” he said, holding it out to Adam. The liquid inside glowed faintly, a sickly green that didn’t exactly inspire confidence. “It’s a tonic. Won’t fix everything, but it’ll help with the fever and the swelling. Drink it.”

Adam eyed the bottle warily. “What’s in it?”

“Do you really want the details?” the doctor asked, raising a brow. “Or do you want to feel like you can walk again without collapsing?”

Adam hesitated for a long moment before snatching the bottle from the doctor’s hand. He uncorked it and sniffed the contents, grimacing at the sharp, medicinal smell.

“If this kills me, I’m haunting you,” he muttered before tipping the bottle back and swallowing the contents in one go. The liquid burned going down, leaving a bitter aftertaste that made him gag.

The doctor watched him with a faint smirk. “You’ll live,” he said dryly.

Adam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at the demon. “You better hope so. I’ve got too much riding on this.”

The doctor’s gaze flicked back to Adam’s belly, his expression unreadable. “That’s obvious,” he said after a moment. “You’re not the first case like this I’ve seen, you know.”

Adam stiffened, his fingers tightening around the empty bottle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice sharp.

The doctor tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze unnerving in its intensity. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he said softly. “I know what it looks like when someone’s carrying a cambion.”

The words hit Adam like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the doctor. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again as he tried to formulate a response.

“I’m not—” he began, but the doctor cut him off with a raised hand.

“Save it,” the demon said, his voice calm but firm. “I don’t care how it happened or who’s responsible. What I care about is making sure you don’t die before you give birth.”

Adam’s jaw clenched, his heart pounding in his chest. The doctor’s matter-of-fact tone made the situation feel all too real, stripping away the layers of denial and bravado Adam had been clinging to.

“Why do you care?” he asked finally, his voice low and bitter. “No one else does.”

The doctor’s expression softened, just enough to catch Adam off guard. “Because someone has to,” he said simply. “And because if you don’t make it, neither will the child. Whether you like it or not, you’re not just fighting for yourself anymore.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Adam looked away, his gaze fixed on the far wall as he tried to process everything.

“I don’t need a savior,” he muttered after a long silence. “I’ve made it this far on my own.”

The doctor didn’t argue. He just placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder, the gesture firm but not unkind. “You’re stronger than most,” he said quietly. “But even the strong need help sometimes. Don’t let your pride kill you—and the child.”

Adam’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he thought he might break. But instead, he forced a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You really know how to kill a mood, Doc.”

The doctor chuckled softly, stepping back and crossing his arms. “Just doing my job. Now, get some rest. You’re staying here for the night.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the demon cut him off with a raised brow. “No arguments. You need it, whether you admit it or not. The streets will still be there tomorrow.”

For once, Adam didn’t argue. He leaned back against the exam table, his body heavy with exhaustion. As much as he hated to admit it, the doctor was right.

For now, survival was all that mattered.

[scarecrow-collective]

Fuck it along side the other shit I'm doing imma do whump month so here's day one!!

(whump month was brought to you by the lovely @cirrus-ghoulette go show them some love!!)

Day one; Burn. (Cw/tw; Burning, fire, heavy injury, angst, Infirmary visits)

Characters-Aeon(main focus), Aether and Omega mentioned, siblings of sins mentioned.

Aeon wasn't always scarred, he had a full face and could see out of both eyes when he was first summoned. He was beautiful with porcelain skin that shined in the light whenever he laughed or smiled, his eyes crinkled with every movement or whenever he spoke.

To say the least he was gorgeous, but all of that changed one day as what would come to be known as the incident happened. The day started off as normal, Aeon was up early and was ready to start his chores as usual, nothing out of the ordinary.

Aeon had caught wind from the other ghouls that there was going to be a big campfire later that night, and of course he wanted to go. A campfire with all of his friends? That's an opportunity he couldn't pass up, so once all of his chores were finished and his room was cleaned and cleared up he made his way down to the area where it was being held.

The area was lively and filled with happiness, siblings and ghouls huddled around and were chatting away as the fire crackled and smoked in the distance. To the new ghoul all of this was exciting, he wanted to go feel the heat up close and feel the warmth wrap around him.

Aeon made his way over and curiously looked at it, eyes filled with curiosity and excitement as he watched the flames dance in the wind. A few siblings were crowded around the pit near him as they giggled and yelled with beer in their hands, Aeon hated the taste of beer so he steered clear of the drinks.

Aeon ignored the siblings entirely as he kept his eyes on the flames, he pictured a dancing lady within the beauty of it and that made him admire it more. The siblings near him began to get rowdy and they giggled and joked, clearly not seeing the young ghoul near them.

With a particularly harsh thrust the sibling dropped their beer into the flames below causing it to rore up and expand into the air, unfortunately for Aeon he was in the path of the flames as it wrapped around his face and burned him.

Aeon screamed in pain as he bolted back and covered his face, crying out in pain as he yelled out for anyone to help him. Ghouls crowded around him to check his safety as they looked him up and down, Aether pushed the others out of the way to scoop the young ghouls into his arms to carry him into the infirmary.

Once there, Aeon was set onto a bed as Aether and Omega moved to check his wounds out, they dosed him full of quintessence as they wrapped a bandage around his wound to close it off. A heavy sigh left Aether as he mumbled to himself, petting Aeon's head.

The young ghoul writhed in pain as he groaned and moaned, heavy pants leaving his mouth as he cried out in pain. Throughout the night Aether and Omega dosed him up to ease the pain of the new found wound on his face.

Weeks came to pass the wound turned into a scar and Aeon's porcelain skin turned red and irritated, he would no longer smile as bright without wincing in pain and to him he no longer looked beautiful. In his own eyes he was horrible and no longer looked beautiful, he hated the scar despite what everyone told him. In his mind he was ruined, now Aeon no longer likes campfires.

[sunwarmed-ash]

WIP/Number game

@sweeteatercat back at it again with #9!

good choice, this is actually something I'm working on for @whump-kia 's Whump July event!

Day 1: 

Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

TW:s Needle mention, open wounds,

“This is not a scratch Billy!��

“I’ve had worse...”

“That doesn’t give me any relief!”

“Well as long as you feel better…” Billy sasses.

Steve sighs loudly but it sounds tired, defeated. 

“I didn't mean it like that…”

Billy doesn't know why, but he cuts Harrington a break. Maybe it's because he’s too busy trying to keep his guts inside his body to have any remaining energy to fight.

“Yeah, I know you didn't Steve.”

It's quiet for two awkward moments. 

“What can I do?” Steve asks. 

“Hand me the sanitizer.”

Steve hands him the bottle, eyes desperate for more instructions.  

“Ahh!!” Billy hisses, because of all things to put on a deep, open, wound this wasn’t one of them, but he didn't have a whole lot of other options at his disposal. He just hopes the stinging stops soon. 

“Please,” Steve begs, “it’s killing me I can’t do more.”

Billy, despite the agony he’s feeling, chuckles, 

“Just can’t shake the Mother Hen persona can you Pretty Boy?”

“Shut up…” Steve flushes, but he’s not mad. 

“Come here?” Billy takes a chance. A fucking stupid chance really. 

“Yeah, where do you want me?” Steve asks unthinkingly, moving just inches from Billy’s face. 

Before Billy can convince himself out of it, he leans closer and brings their lips together. 

The kiss isn't longer than a peck and Steve’s cheeks are flushed bright red when Billy pulls back. 

“What- was that for?”

“You said you wanted to help,” Billy shrugs, pushing the floss-threaded needle through his skin. “Needed something else to focus on.” 

Steve’s still blushing, and Billy hopes that’s a very good sign and not a bad one. But honestly after the night he’s had he wasn’t banking on a happy ending.

[icypantherwrites]

New Fic: To Purify Evil

Summary: One of Keith’s least favorite things about being the leader of Voltron is the diplomacy. Fortunately for him Lance excels at it and it’s an easy decision to step aside and allow Lance to secure this alliance with a former long-time ally of the Alteans.

Except that these aliens aren’t actually interested in an alliance.

They’re instead looking for the perfect sacrifice to offer up to save themselves from the “great evil” that speaks and hears and sees all and they’re convinced that Lance is that person.

And now it’s up to Keith to save Lance not just from an impending, violent death, but a life where he’s cut off from all his senses as the aliens in their attempt to purify him eliminate them one by one by one.

(Author's note: If you are getting The Purity of Sin vibes from the summary or anywhere in the story you are not imagining them. This was a challenge project to myself to re-write that story using a lot of elements and major plot points of of Sin but in a tenth of the word count ;p)

xxx

Read Chapter One Here

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

For Wednesday words, Tonight, Breath and/or Step

Thank you my kind friend :)

Tonight from Dear Leslie:

Leslie wasn’t his father, and he prided himself on that. He would never treat his children the way his own father treated him, but Jamie was a tougher nut to crack. Higgins wasn’t sure Jamie would be open to his usual brand of parenting. Jamie’s sharp edges could cut through even the strongest metal, whereas Leslie’s edges were soft and moldable like Play-Doh. But maybe Jamie didn’t need a parent. Maybe tonight Jamie just needed a safe place, a friend and a dog to snuggle.

Breath from the home invasion fic:

Jamie fell to a painful heap on the floor, willing his breathing back to normal and to ignore the new level of pain, but his breath just came in painful, short huffs. A boot connected with his midsection then, and Jamie’s vision went white before he curled in on himself, wheezing heavily in pain.  “Get him up.”

Step (a bit long because I wasn't sure where to cut for context) from you inherit the sins, you inherit the flames:

Her first instinct was to blame Rupert—and then her father. If her father hadn’t treated her mother like less than an equal, would she have been blinded by Rupert’s attention? If Rupert hadn’t made her feel so little, would she have tried to make herself feel bigger by playing with the lives of others? Maybe those were all fair questions, but her actions were still her own.  Divorce is hard. Hurt people hurt people. Rupert is a horrible man who built an ivory tower he kept you captive in, but you climbed every step of that tower on your own. She climbed every step, but the man who locked her in that tower wasn't the one she climbed it for. Still, if she wanted to end the hurt, end the cycle that started within her on that dark day in September, she had to take accountability. She could blame her father, she could blame Rupert, she could blame Jamie’s father, and she did, but as she sat there and looked at the devastated face of Jamie Tartt, she didn’t want to blame anyone else.

She wanted to take responsibility. She wanted to be the woman she was before she lost her father the first time. Before she gave in to a married man's advances.  She wanted to be the person Keeley Jones thought she was. She wanted to be the person Sam thought she was.  “I tried to destroy a monster, so I became one, and I didn’t care if I fed you to a different one to destroy mine."

[hexedwinchester]

SPN poll time!!

[dr-abitat-blog]

Day 4: "You're a monster."

T/W: Painful transformation, animal transformation, shapeshifting, blood, violence, driven to hurt, hurt / comfort, superheroes

Frostbringer / Evan belongs to the amazing bean @illustriousshadow

"...I'm ready."

The words leave my lips in a hushed declaration. Across from me our leader — Frostbringer — sends me an encouraging nod. Belief shines in his blue eyes, lightening my soul with hope.

"Let them have it, Sin."

I can only nod in response. Below us, the sounds of clashing metal and vicious yells fill the smoky air. I can safely say that we have found the cultists' current hideout, led by none other than...our own father. Yes, like it or not, I am still Sinnera Demona by blood and name, daughter of the renown shadow mage Lucifer Demona. Even though he is my father by blood, I have a sworn duty as one of the city's heroes-in-training to prevent him from causing harm to others. Already he has kidnapped my infant nephew, locked away my friends and...I don't even want to imagine what he's done to Sattie. My older brother is known for being rather fiery -- literally and figuratively given the nature of his own fire-wielding powers -- but especially so around him. After all, our childhood was spent being manipulated, lied to that the Outside was dangerous and no place for us. Countless days were spent trying to meet his expectations, being forced to push ourselves to breaking point to reach our true full potential in our powers.

That was why we had no choice but to run -- and we soon realised all of the lies we had been fed about the Outside. We found friends, a family and a new life -- although he quickly found us again. We were made to pay. He even tried to curse us into becoming completely subservient to his cause, to purging the 'outsiders' from our world and shedding innocent blood -- but the combined efforts of our friends allowed us to be saved. After that, Father had been arrested. He only escaped from prison last month. Now he has formed a new following to try again -- and nothing has changed. He is...incapable of redemption. All of our lives he has essentially tortured us. I still bear the scars on my back from when my efforts to please him were 'not good enough' and even now the nightmares still persist to this day, but...I have to face him.

I am not scared of you anymore, Lucifer...

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus. Through the haze I can make out my older brother, being violently overwhelmed by the hooded cultists He wrestles with every ounce of strength against the bonds holding him down, yelling unintelligible curses through the rag strung between his teeth. The red dripping down his face isn't lost on me, or the silver tipped dagger in the leader’s hands.

It's that part of the image that drives the motivation for the change.

Blessed Elements, do not fail me now!

Tightly gritting my teeth, I brace my body, close my eyes and murmur those three specific words — the words to trigger the change. It never gets any easier. The fact that I have had to change so many times before is irrelevant. Perhaps it's something that I'll never get used to, no matter how many times I do it. Of course, the severity of the process all depends on the nature of exactly what I change into. Bird. Beast. Myth. Monster. I can change into any one of them — but at the dangerous cost of becoming that creature. At the cost of losing my own sanity, forgetting my true identity and letting that monstrous beastly urge consume my soul. That is what terrifies me most of all — and I can only pray to the Elements for the strength to endure what is to come.

I can do this — I will do this!

I envision the creature in my mind as clearly as possible. Every detail is pictured intently, forming one individual piece of a larger being.

Wings. Claws. Feathers. Powerful. Feral—

Almost immediately I feel the fires ripping through my body. My eyes snap open, glowing like blazing embers. My head is thrown back from the force. A distorted scream of agony tears from my lips. It soon becomes unrecognisable, morphing into a shrill echoing screech. Every second is agonising. Tears roll down my cheeks as my bones expand and fracture. About a dozen of them rip through the skin of my back. Blood pools down my spine, my casual dress being torn to shreds. My limbs contort and grow, sprouting with bright scarlet feathers. Further Feathers and fur soon cover my entire body. Crimson oozes from my feet, claws raking through to the surface, dipped in my own blood. My flowing red hair soon forms even more feathers. I cry out as my nose becomes pointed and hooked, forming a sharp beak. The tears sizzle on my face as I release a loud torturous shriek. Ligaments and tendons tear with a sickening snap — and then the change is complete.

I am...the griffon.

The world turns red before my eyes. With an unearthly shriek, I spread my newly acquired wings, instantly swooping down onto the scene below. I aim straight for my prey. Claws cut deep. My enraged feral screeches ripple across the entire forest. The forceful blows of my wings almost uproot their entire camp. Voices scream and cry out, begging to the Elements for safety. The Elements do not listen to them, only to me.

I am all powerful.

My claws slash again. I swipe up the nearest cultist and drop him from a great height. His fall is barely broken.

I will destroy them.

Another shriek tears from my beak. With every passing second, I feel the power flowing through my veins. My vision becomes darker, almost like blood. Their blood.

I want it.

The thought drives me to lash out again, raking through the flesh of another nearby victim. The hunger surges through me now, becoming almost irresistible. I crave their flesh—

No — no, I can't. This is wrong — no! Stop, I'm Sin! I-I'm—!

The girl's pleas are drowned out by another deathly shriek. I barely hear her. All I can hear is one word, resonating through my head.

Kill. Kill. KILL—

"Sin! Sin!"

Other voices call out. Through the crimson, I can just about pick them out. Non-hooded. Blonde, holding up their hands to me. "You did it, that's enough. Come on, you can come out now."

I don't want to.

I toss my head to the side, hissing. My vision only darkens further.

"Sin, we're safe. Your brother's safe — it's okay."

They're interfering.

With another powerful blow of my wings, I knock them all off their feet. A shield of freezing ice barely blocks my claws.

"Listen to me, Sin! You can fight it!"

You're a monster...I'm a monst—

"You're not a monster, Sin."

My body freezes at the sound of his voice.

...S-Sattie?

"You're a brave and kind and wonderful person. You have a pure heart. The Elements can see that. Everyone can see that."

My brother stands right next to him, limping and bloody. His eyes stare back into mine beseechingly, brimming with tears. "I-I love you, Sister. You've done what you had to."

But they hurt us—!

"They won't hurt us anymore. I promise."

He takes a brave step forward despite my threatening claws, extending a hand out in my direction. "Please...come back to us, Sin. It's okay."

Slowly, the crimson starts to fade. Colour seeps back into my irises. The scarlet fog begins to clear. At the same time, my body starts to shrink, the world warping before my eyes.

Let it go...l-let it...go...

The animalistic urge decreases with every second. A sickening squelching sounds out as my wings retract back into my body. The feathers are once again replaced with warm flesh. A glow bathes my body as I gradually shift back into my mortal form. The tears are already falling swiftly down my burning cheeks. Exhaustion washes over me. Sobs ripple from my small figure as I curl up into a ball to protect my modesty. Sattie is already waiting for me, gently wrapping his own tattered cloak around my shivering frame. His fingers stroke at my scarlet strands, his arms slightly shaking as he embraces me. I find myself leaning against him with no hesitation, safe in my brother's arms.

"That's it. I’m here. Shhh."

He quietly reassures me, holding me close enough to hear his racing heartbeat. "You did it, Sin. You won. You saved me—”

"B-but I...I-I let it take over me again — like last time!” I shake my head, distress creeping into my tone. “I-I was dangerous. I hurt them. I nearly hurt you—!"

"That doesn't matter, Sin."

Frostbringer peers back at me. An expression of pride spreads across his face.

"E-Evan...?"

"You managed to reign it back in the end, just like I knew you would. I know you're scared, but fear is your biggest enemy. You have to believe you can do it — and you did."

I...did...

Red beads from my nose. I've pushed myself too hard.

I-I am Sinnera. I am Sin. I am human, n-not a monster. I am a girl. I-I am a hero…

The reminders slowly settle me, allowing me to recapture the fragments of my real identity. The mist clears completely and the monstrous hunger dissipates.  I stay still to allow Sattie to carefully wipe the blood away with his sleeve, gently loosening his hold.

"Come. Let's find the others."

I can only nod tiredly in agreement. Even in his wounded state, he still crouches down to pick me up, carrying me on his back like when we were little, until the injured bloodied bodies of my former prey are left far behind us.

[whumpsical]

(ty @figuwhump for the pose! 💕)

Jian is an insomnia baker <3 welcome to 3am floor cookies, sponsored by The Horrors

[mica949]

Warning for graphic depictions of torture and PTSD

He knew he didn’t have to. If he was a weaker man, he could turn back and tell RHM that he couldn’t handle it, and in all honesty, he’d probably be reassured and held close for an unreasonable amount of time. But he wasn’t weak. He wasn’t, and he had to prove that to himself.

In RBH, RHM picks up Reg before dealing with Henry. Reg is happy of course, but he can’t stop shaking after months of government interrogation.

It was just a shower. It shouldn’t be scary.

Yet, Reginald couldn’t stop himself from shaking.

He knew he didn’t have to. If he was a weaker man, he could turn back and tell RHM that he couldn’t handle it, and in all honesty, he’d probably be reassured and held close for an unreasonable amount of time. But he wasn’t weak. He wasn’t, and he had to prove that to himself. Wasn’t that what that therapist said? To work on his self-esteem in small steps? Being able to clean himself like a normal person seemed like a small step.

Reg turned the knob to the left, quickly stepping out of the way before the water could hit him. The sound of water running already had his hands shaking to the point it was a struggle to slip off the simple dress shirt, wool lined pants, and too-small boxers that actually fit after all the weight he’d lost.

He wasn’t weak. It wasn’t scary. It wasn’t dark, and there was plenty of room to move around. It wasn’t the same whatsoever.

Before he could change his mind, he stepped into the shower and let the lukewarm water hit him.

—

He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d been put in here. It was pitch black, only the slightest of light slipping through the crack of the closed off entrance. Reg had never considered himself claustrophobic, but in a small concrete cell with barely enough room to lay down comfortably, he found himself struggling to breathe. 

It might have been hours or days since the last time they tortured him. Without natural light, it was near impossible to tell time if he didn’t count the seconds, and he’d lost count around 3000. It certainly felt like a while, so he wasn’t incredibly surprised when water began to spray from the ceiling.

Not surprised, but definitely upset.

Reg had stopped with the sarcastic remarks the tenth time they doused him. But he certainly wasn’t about to start begging. He stood, and nearly fell over at the wave of weakness that washed over him (How long had it been since they let him out? Should he be trying to drink this, just to stay hydrated?), barely managing to stabilize himself by gripping onto what might have been a handle. Just barely managing to stop stars from flashing before his vision before the water turned off and—

Zap.

He jumped back from the handle (?) at the sudden shock. The first one was never that bad, but this one felt stronger than average. The soles of his feet stung, and it was a genuine effort to stay upright. Reg was determined to do it though; it was worse if he was on the floor. The water would soak into him and leave him vulnerable on whatever side he landed on.

Though, he already felt drenched as a second downpour hit him. It was too hot, and he could just barely move out of the way to keep it from burning his scalp at the very least. It stopped, and he had a half second to brace himself before—

Zap.

His vision flashed white in the darkness. For a brief moment he couldn’t move, as though held in place by a beam. Then the electricity stopped, and he fell over. That was a brief effort. This time it gave him a moment to rest it seemed. Reg tried to stand, but he found that he’d developed a tremor to his body that wouldn’t go away no matter how he tried to move it. Was this it? After god knows how many shocks, was he finally dying?

The thought was terrifying. The realization that he wasn’t ready to die left him shaken and wide eyed as water scorched his already burning skin.

Zap.

Reg swore he felt his heart skip a beat. Everything ached and shook, and wow, he was dying. He didn’t think they’d actually kill him. Didn’t they need him for information? Wasn’t that the point of all this electricity? To get him to talk? He couldn’t do that if he was dead.

“Nyeh… Wait.” He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. He was never the type to beg. But maybe they didn’t realize? “You’re… going to kill me.”

There was a long pause, and Reg considered that maybe they had listened and decided to stop for the moment. He tried to stop his hands from shaking long enough that he could wring most of the water out of his curls, at least stop himself from getting sick.

Then the water started again.

“Wait—” Reg sputtered. Suddenly it was really hard to breathe, and it felt like the water had turned cold despite the fact he could feel it leaving burns on him. “You’re going to kill me! You— You can’t kill me— Wait!”

Was he willing to die to keep these secrets? He’d always told himself he was. But, now that his life was flashing before his eyes, he was realizing how much he wanted it back. He didn’t want to die here. Not like this. There was so much he wanted to do. He didn’t want to die—

—

Reginald didn’t realize he had fallen until the water stopped hitting him and he was on his back. His vision was speckled with black, and his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears he could barely hear anything else. The touch of a warm hand on his cheek was so light, yet so intense he couldn’t help but jerk away. Yet before it could pull away, he was leaning into it. He didn’t realize he was crying either until that hand wiped a tear off his cheek.

“Reg.”

His right hand man’s voice was as steady as always. Even as his vision cleared and he wrapped his arms around RHM for a very soggy hug, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. It was just a shower. He had no clue why he was panicking so badly.

(He knew. But it was easier to pretend that his body and mind were out of control than admit that something inside him had been deeply, fundamentally broken in those months of capture.)

[librathefangirl]

@whumpgifathon | Day 31: Colors | Highlight a specific color in your art: Red + Green The Seven Deadly Sins | S05E15 | Meliodas & Zeldris

[adams-sinful-wings]

Adam, maybe you should get help. Straining yourself will hurt the babies, and you don’t want that, do you?

Go to Lucifer or the Hazbin Hotel. Be kind, they might not help you if you’re an asshole. I know you hate them, and they hate you, but Charlie has a heart.

Adam: *looks genuinely scared but quietly begins to move about, grabbing his cash and whatever he deems necessary before he walks out — begrudgingly heading to that ridiculous hotel*

[yonderlyporcupine]

And it's up!

Finally! Oh my god, I'm so happy with most of it. There are some parts I could keep tweaking forever, but I figured y'all had waited long enough. Hope you enjoy :)