#whumpy choice

[painsandconfusion]

You know when whumper forces caretaker to hurt whumpee?

And the only thing 'making' them do it is the simple threat "Do it. Or I will."

And that's enough?

Yeah. That's the good stuff.

[dangerpronebuddie]

For the WIP word game.

Breath

Cold

Please

Hey darling 🥰

Breath - Slight Air and Purging Fire

Eddie woke up with a coughing fit, his lungs and eyes burning. Smoke filled his lungs with every labored breath. For a delirious moment, Eddie thought he was dreaming.

Cold - Angst prompt for @tizniz

Buck forgot about the cold, the rush, the noise that accompanied the tsunami. But the one thing he remembered was the weight, pulling him down and pressing on his chest, tearing him away from Christopher.

Please - BTHB: Prisoner Exchange

“I can help you,” Eddie said calmly, slowly putting himself between Maddie and Sam. “And I will, if you leave them alone.”

Sam glanced down at Maddie. Eddie kept his focus on the man, waiting for the slightest movement. Sam looked at him again. “Please?” Eddie prodded.

Wip game: send me a word and I'll find it in my wips

[taihua]

So I tend to extremely dislike omegaverse stuff because it focuses on a whole ton of topics and characterizations that I dislike, but I had a very unhinged dream last night that had an absolutely awful omegaverse plot and I feel like it should be turned into a fic 😓

[bumblingdragon]

the further i get/the more clips i see of Astarion's story the more im obsessed with it, replaying all the scenes in my head

the way he describes digging himself out of his own grave??? im- aUGH!

[lilgynt]

oh my god my mom made fun of me when i couldn’t walk

and i had a broken foot

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 11

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; blood; injury; vomiting.

A/N: Another whumpful chapter. My little whumpy heart is happy. But some feely feel good moments too. And then some not so feely feel good. I don’t hate Andrea, I promise.

You couldn’t begin to guess what time it was. Between caring for Daryl and vomiting every drop of water you’d tried to intake, you barely knew where you were anymore. You tossed a few sticks into the fire to keep it burning low before lowering unsteadily to your knees beside the archer. 

Daryl hadn’t regained consciousness since his one-sided conversation earlier in the night. He was restless, quietly groaning; head turning back and forth with a pained grimace etched onto his features. His breaths came in shallow pants while his pulse palpitated wildly. His skin was still cool. You found yourself petting his hair and shushing him gently. Somehow, that felt okay. 

You ran a hand through your hair and exhaled shakily. How were you supposed to get both of you back safely the next morning when you were rapidly weakening and Daryl could hardly stand? What if you couldn’t even get him to rouse? Slapping your palms against the gravel, you forced yourself to your feet and began pacing. 

You were yearning for your father’s advice; missing him to a debilitating degree. For all the mistakes he’d humbly own up to, the man had never steered you wrong. He was never harsh, always finding a way to ensure you were laughing through your tears. 

“Perk up, peanut. Nothing’s that bad! When life gives you lemons—”

“I hate lemonade, daddy.”

“Forget lemonade! Why are you taking food from a stranger?”

“You’re so corny.”

“But you’re laughing. Mission accomplished.”

You wiped away a tear and smiled. You had been so lucky to have a father like him: patient, kind, funny, stern when he needed to be but never cruel. You stilled your steps and turned your gaze toward Daryl. On the surface, the hunter seemed to be the opposite of everything your father had been. But you had been granted the smallest glimpse through a crack in the archer’s self-preserving armor. 

When you were so incredibly sick in the woods, every touch had been gentle. Every syllable had been soft. Daryl was capable of tenderness and—while he may never be like your father—you easily believed the archer would be a wonderful dad in his own Daryl way. 

You sat down with your back against the tree, watching Daryl sleep. Fierce determination settled against your heart, smothering out the panic that always hid away there. You would get you both out. If you had to drag Daryl up the rocky slope tied to your back, you would persevere. You were all three going to survive this. 

You stayed in that spot, absorbing all the courage and strength the universe was offering. It wasn’t a supernatural event, but a personal battle against the weakness you had been allowing yourself to wallow in since the attack on your camp. Daryl was something in your life. More than the father of your baby. A friend? It didn’t matter. You needed him to be okay. 

As the sun began to rise and the fire burned out, you knew it was time to start the literal uphill battle toward getting back to camp. Taking a deep breath, you held it for a heartbeat as you looked at Daryl. The man was anything but weak but he was so pale, pain written plainly on his face. Exhaling, you crawled the short distance to where he lay, unsure how to approach this. 

“Daryl.” A gentle shake to his shoulder. Another whisper of his name with another simultaneous joggle. His eyes clenched, brows drawing together. He was in pain. It was obvious. Still, you had no choice but to insist. “Come on, Daryl. Open your eyes.” 

He did. “Wha’?” The archer immediately tried to sit up, but the wound’s sting held him in place. “Fuck.” You absently brushed your fingertips across his jaw. 

“Do you remember what happened?” You asked sincerely, helping him into a sitting position. It was a slow, painful endeavor but a success nonetheless. With an arm wrapped tightly around his middle, he pinned you down with a look just shy of a glare. 

“Thought I remembered ‘til I saw ya here.” He adjusted how he was sitting with only the slightest hint of discomfort. “But then I knew it couldn’t be real cause ya ain’t dumb enough to come out here alone.” Once he settled, Daryl arched an eyebrow at you. 

“Color me an idiot, then.” You shrugged with a feigned smile. He was clearly unimpressed. 

“Ya gotta stop thinkin’ s’just you anymore.” Your eyes followed his right hand as it moved from his midsection toward yours but pulled back quickly without touching. “I ain’t worth riskin’ our kid.”

Your heart stuttered. It was the first time he had acknowledged the baby as both his and yours. You decided that pointing it out was not in either of your best interests. 

“You’re important too, you know.” You argued instead. A retort was on the tip of his tongue, his mouth opening but you gave him no time to argue. “Here, you need to eat.” You grabbed his left wrist and plopped the apple onto his palm. “You really need more than that. I could reheat the beans from last night?”

“Don’t need to do all that. Just give ‘em here.” The spoon you had used was still in the can when you passed it to him. You sipped water from the canteen as he ate, watching him scrutinize every inch of the area you’d soon be climbing. Using the spoon, he pointed. “That your rope?”

“Well, technically it belongs to a moron that fell into a ravine on top of his own bolt.” Your grin met his deadpan expression. “I swiped it from your tent. Had to cut it to stop you from becoming walker chow though. Sorry.” 

He simply shrugged. “Ya ain’t eatin’?” 

Shit. You were truly hoping he wouldn’t notice. “I ate.” Not a lie. Technically. 

“If you have to say ‘technically’, you’re already in trouble.”

Your father’s voice echoed in your head. Goddamnit. “I can’t eat anything right now. Given all the shit we’re about to do, I shouldn’t have drank anything either.”

“They couldn’t find the meds?” He looked stricken and you found that caused an ache in your chest that you didn’t care to ever feel again. 

“I don’t know. I left before they got back.”

His face morphed into an annoyed scowl. “You’re an idiot.” He grumbled. He continued to eat, though he seemed more hesitant with every bite. Did he feel bad eating in front of you? “So let me wrap my head ‘round this.” That calm tone that was about to build up into his pissed off rampaging. “I can hardly move an’ you’re gonna be upchuckin’ ev’ry ten seconds, but we’re s’posed to climb outta here?”

“More or less.” You shrugged. 

“What could go wrong?” He grimaced at the empty can before tossing it aside. He stared at the canteen you held out to him but eventually took it. 

“I’ve got another, so drink up.” 

Daryl hummed and then drained every drop from the container. 

You stuffed it in your bag and slipped your arms through the straps. “We gotta go. Let’s get you up.” You stood only to crouch behind him, snaking your arms under his to lock your hands on his chest while carefully avoiding the wound. His muscles tensed at the contact. “This is gonna suck but on three?” He mumbled ‘fine’ under his breath and planted his hands on the ground to help push himself. “One, two, three!”

There was a cut off shout on the journey upright. He staggered backward but you planted your feet firmly to stabilize him. He was panting and swaying, both arms wrapped around himself tightly but he was taking most of his weight. 

“You good?” You asked, sliding your hands to hold just above hips, silently giving the bandages a once over for any fresh blood. 

“M’fine.” He managed to breathe. He didn’t sound fine but you’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Very slowly, you pulled your hands away, ensuring he could remain standing. 

Next order of business was strapping his crossbow onto your back. It took some time and maneuvering but you finally managed. 

“I can take that. Ya don’t need to be carryin’ all that shit.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Walk over here and you can have it.” Your eyes held a challenge, and you were certain he would rise to the bait, even knowing it wouldn’t end the way he wanted. He managed one step before he staggered. “That’s what I thought.” Confident he wouldn’t try again, you pulled and shifted the weapon’s strap while you studied the hill you two were about to tackle. “Jesus, this thing isn’t nice to sore tits.”

“Why your tits sore?”

You found him looking adorably confused. “It’s a pregnancy thing.” His eyebrows raised, his mouth forming a silent ‘o’. “Welp, let’s get started.” Daryl didn’t argue this time when you ducked under his arm. He needed as much strength as he could save for climbing. “Think you can make it to where the rope ends?”

The hunter narrowed his eyes. “Yeah.” He didn’t look any more confident than he sounded. 

“Okay, I’m gonna stay behind you until we get there. Then I’ll go first.” He nodded without argument. He must have felt awful if he wasn’t even trying to suggest something else. He grunted with the first uphill step, right arm encircling his middle while he breathed through the pain. “You okay?”

“Ain’t really got a choice.”

Unfortunately, he was right. You couldn’t leave him to fetch help and couldn’t drag him up the hillside. He managed another step, your hand reaching out to lie against the small of his back as you followed. Hopefully, you’d be able to stop him from falling. 

Halfway to the end of the rope, you barely received any warning before you pitched to the side and vomited all the water you had drank. 

“Oops.” You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, catching Daryl’s gaze from over his shoulder. “I spilled it.” He rolled his eyes and continued upward while you smirked at his back. Things sucked. Making light of it all wasn’t going to change that. 

After another block of several minutes, Daryl could almost reach out and touch the rope. He gripped a sturdy branch and pulled himself up further, falling short and curling inward with a sound dangerously close to a sob. 

“Daryl?” You grabbed the nearest rock and hauled yourself up beside him. “Are you okay?” He wasn’t. That much was clear from the way he visibly trembled and the tension you could see in his jaw. “Let’s rest here for a minute.”

“M’fine. Keep goin’.” 

“Daryl—”

“Said m’fine!” He snapped, beginning the ascent once again. You glowered at his back for a moment more before deciding it was pointless to argue. Once you made it to the rope, you’d take the lead and control the pace. You’d damn well make him slow down. “What now?” He panted, holding tightly to an unearthed root to keep himself from tumbling. You didn’t answer, but began to tie the rope around his midsection. “What the—ya need this more than me.”

“Shut up.” You finished the knot and reached above to give the rope a firm tug. Without a word, you climbed your way above him and grabbed onto the rope. You were certain you could make it just holding on and climbing. Your stomach was trying to revolt once again but at least you’d have the security of not falling as long as you held on tight. Hopefully, you wouldn’t accidentally puke on his head. 

With concern clearly on your face, you continued to look back. Daryl was taking significantly longer, breaths coming fast and jaw clenched. He was clearly struggling to keep quiet so you wouldn’t stop. Idiot. 

“You doing okay back there?”

“Just go.” He snapped, hissing through his teeth immediately after. If you could make it fast enough, maybe you could pull the rope to give him some support. The thought had no sooner crossed your mind before you bent forward and dry heaved, hardly able to maintain your grip. “Hey. Ya alright?”

You nodded, keeping still for a moment. The world was spinning. You couldn’t risk climbing. Your baby was more important than attempting to race your way to the ledge. If you fell—

A cool hand came to rest on the middle of your back, the vibrations of the tremors his body was suffering were felt clearly through your shirt. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He was worried for you and for the baby. It was a new but not unwelcome feeling to realize you weren’t unimportant to him. He didn’t see you as an incubator. Being friends that happened to share a child wasn’t such a terrible feeling. 

“I’m okay.” You pulled air in through your nose and pushed it out through your mouth. The breathing helped alleviate the nausea and any panic that may have accompanied it. “Let’s keep going. We need to get you back.”

“Need to get you back too.” He argued while removing his hand. He started to climb again before you were ready to move. There was no way you were letting him above you. If he fell, he’d take you with him and you wouldn’t have the rope to slow your descent. You scrambled quickly and carelessly, making it up to at least be beside him. And just in time. 

The rock Daryl placed his left foot on came loose from the soil. He let out a curse as he began to fall but you were quick, twisting at the waist to grab hold of his wrist. The sudden movements irritated his wound, your heart clenching when he cried out and pressed his forehead against the ground. 

“C’mon. Ya done half. Stop bein’ such a pussy.” He muttered to himself. 

You almost let the laughter that bubbled up force its way from your mouth. Almost. It was only slightly difficult not to tease him when he was in such a shape. You kept a keen eye on him as he repositioned and found a solid foothold. When he looked up at you and nodded, you noticed how badly he was sweating and he was growing even more pale. Reluctantly, you released your hold but kept your hand outstretched just in case. 

“You good?” 

There was a look that crossed his face, like he was about to say something snarky, but it faded just as quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, m’good.” Upon turning back to your own climb, you smiled to yourself. 

It was unsurprising that you reached the top first, keeping the rope in hand as you climbed the last several feet to the ledge. Once you had hauled yourself up, you shed your bag and his crossbow before you sat close to the tree and pulled up all the slack. If he were to fall now you’d need to brace your legs against the trunk to be able to hold him without being dragged off yourself. Little by little you pulled as he got closer. From where you were positioned, you couldn’t see him so the rope was the only clue you had as to where he might be. 

“Daryl, are you okay?”

He didn’t answer but was still moving, albeit slower. Until he appeared to stop. Shit. Taking a risk, you let go and crawled to the edge. The archer was just below the tree root. His arms were trembling, his forehead was pressed against the dirt, and worst of all, there was fresh blood spreading across the back of his shirt. 

“Daryl. Daryl, answer me.”

“Just—just need—a minute.” He slurred. Your worry compounded, a sick feeling in your gut that had nothing to do with that hullabaloo word that Hershel had given you. That god awful feeling was constricting your chest, making it hard to form any sort of coherent thought, let alone a plan. Eyes on the archer, you could see his fingers loosening around the limb and rock that were keeping him there. 

“Daryl!” You barked loudly. It had the intended effect. His body visibly jerked and he lifted his head, dazed eyes searching until they found you. You had to make a choice: try to pull him up or go down to get him. Your hands pushed you up and allowed you to spin with your legs over the edge. Leaning forward the slightest bit, you started down as you had the day before, sliding your ass against the ground. 

“Y/N!” Daryl’s voice, though angry, held very little ardor. He was barely hanging on, literally and figuratively. “Don’t—don’t ya dare come—down here.”

“Try and stop me.” You knew it was a risk. Frankly, you were fed up with risking your baby but you told Daryl he was important, too. “You can yell at me later.” Your gaze continued to flit between your path and the hunter. He had rested the side of his face against the ground again and was trying to watch you through eyes that were fighting like hell to close. 

Seconds later, his hand started to fall away from the rock, just for yours to push it back down. His grip instantly tightened. Your other hand moved to grasp his chin.

“Daryl.” His gaze was unfocused but he was still holding himself there. “Daryl, I need you to climb. I’ll help you but I need you to try.” When you had to shake his head a little, you felt a tickle on your cheek just as your lip quivered. “Please.” He remained still, leaving you envisioning him letting go. If he fell, it might not kill him but you would never be able to get him back to this point. You were running out of ideas. Adjusting yourself to reach across him and hold his left hand around the limb, you grabbed the right and pressed his palm against your stomach. “If not for you or me, try for them!”

There was nothing for a moment more, long enough for you to lose hope. You let your head fall forward against the back of his shoulder and cried in earnest, knowing you’d have to climb up eventually. 

His fingers twitched against your belly. He started to move, slowly. Very slowly. Hell, sloths moved faster. You reeled back, observing, ready to do whatever he needed. Right then, you just started whispering encouragement as he reached for something to continue pulling himself upward. 

“That’s it. Keep going. I’m right here.” You climbed beside him, careful of where you put your feet. You would reach out each time you moved up, just placing your palm on his back to assure him you were real and you were there. “Almost, Daryl.” The two of you had passed the root that held the rope when the trembling worsened but he didn’t stop. His teeth were bared, clenching so tightly that you thought they might shatter. 

When he was close enough, you scrambled past him and to the edge. You couldn’t pull his full weight, but you knew he’d rather fall than pull you over. If he couldn’t fight his way up, he’d let go. It was a terrible fact. You reached for him—over his shoulders—grabbing under his arms to give him some support when he dug his fingers into the dirt to drag himself up the rest of the way. 

You both collapsed onto the flat ground beside the tree, panting and staring up at the canopy. You rolled your head and smiled at him, though he seemed to be only halfway present. Your smile was still in place when you looked back up at the cloudless blue sky. 

“Well, that was fun.” You chuckled.

Daryl groaned and weakly lifted the arm closest to you and placed his hand over your face. Somehow, that only made you laugh harder. 

The two of you were worse for wear by a mere hour into the journey back. You were in a violent cycle of drinking water only to vomit it up moments later while Daryl could barely stay on his feet, stumbling and catching himself against a tree if there happened to be one. If not, you’d stagger over and let him use your arm to lever his way back to his feet. 

Neither of you had said a word. You were dehydrated and in desperate need of sleep. Daryl was actively bleeding, growing paler by the moment. You forced him to drink when you did, paying as much attention as possible to the amount left. The next time you doubled over, you found him leaning heavily against a tree, watching you. 

“G’on ahead.” He made a weak gesture and began sliding down until his ass met the dirt. You began shedding your bag and his weapon while shuffling over to him, dropping them both within reach before you mimicked his descent and ended up shoulder to shoulder. 

“I didn’t go through all that shit just to leave you behind now.” The canteen was right on top when you opened the pack. You held it out to him while you grabbed the remaining apple. Daryl struggled with the lid while you took the smallest of bites, praying that what Lori had said about the fruit alleviating nausea was true. You traded after that, but the canteen never made it to your mouth nor did the apple make it to his. His head fell back against the tree and yours to his shoulder. 

“Shouldn’a come—out here in—the first place.” 

You’d never tell him no one else was willing, though he probably suspected it. “Told you. You’re important too.” You sighed and closed your eyes. You wouldn’t sleep. Both of your senses were dulled, which made the two of you a walker buffet if they approached undetected. 

Daryl snorted, though it sounded more like a stunted exhale through his nose. “Yeah. Right.”

You wanted to glare at him but you were comfortable. “Shut up. You are to me.”

“Why?”

“Besides the obvious?” You lifted your head and busied yourself checking his wound. “You just are. When you’re not being a hotheaded jackass, you’re actually pretty good company.” You looked up just in time to see him avert his eyes. He apparently still had enough blood in his body to color his cheeks. Your head found his shoulder again. “Not to mention, you’re a great lay.”

“Stop.”

Your smirk remained while you forced yourself to drink a few sips, hearing him bite into the apple. Aside from dehydrating and slowly bleeding to death, the moment was nice. You couldn’t help but think back to Carol informing you that Daryl didn't like to be touched. Yet here you were using him as a makeshift pillow. Maybe it was a pregnancy perk or maybe he really did consider you a friend. He was slowly making it obvious that he cared. You’d take what you could get as long as the two of you could manage to co-parent. 

When you shifted to put away the canteen and reached for the remainder of the apple, you found his head hanging with the fruit loosely held in his palm. Checking his breathing and pulse, both were not at dangerous levels but he needed help and soon. You took the apple and put it away. 

You would let him rest a while longer before you’d be forced to press on if you were going to make it back before sundown. He became your pillow for a third time while you kept watch and listened to his shallow panting, just content with the fact that he was still breathing. 

“We’re almost there.” You all but groaned, your hand clutching your rolling stomach while Daryl stumbled along beside you. He had taken his crossbow a while ago when you fell to your knees while vomiting. He was holding the strap and dragging it along behind him. 

He grunted in reply, pale face grimacing as if each step was more painful than the last. Probably is. You clutched Sophia’s doll against your hip. They would all probably be so busy fussing over the state the two of you returned in to listen if you told them to check your pack. 

When you walked out of the trees and into the field, the house and camp in view, you could have cried. Well, maybe you couldn’t have. It depended on how dehydrated you were at that point. 

You let your steps slow to stay close to Daryl in case the adrenaline that got him this far suddenly diminished with the relief of being so very close. There was a shout in the distance and you smiled as four of them began running toward you. 

We made it. 

You allowed your steps to slow and then stop as Rick, Shane, T-Dog, and Glen closed in—with guns drawn?!

“Is that Daryl?” Glenn exclaimed. “Y/N?”

“S’the third time ya’ve pointed that thing at my head! Ya gonna pull the trigger or what?”

“Third time?” You asked, beyond confused. Before anyone could say anything else, a shot rang out and Daryl crumpled to the ground. Rick was yelling but you only had eyes for the archer. You stumbled over and fell beside him, holding your breath. When his eyes fluttered open and he reached toward a gash above his temple, you forced out a sob and laid your head against his shoulder. 

Hands encircled your midsection and gently pulled you back, T-Dog’s voice in your ear. “It’s okay. They’ve got him.”

“I’s kiddin’—” Daryl slurred as he was pulled to his feet between Rick and Shane. His weary gaze met yours before his eyes rolled back and he slumped. 

Rick must have seen the look on your face because he was already bringing two fingers to the archer’s neck. He nodded at you and your legs nearly gave out. You gave T-Dog a smile and patted his arm, getting your feet underneath you to follow along beside Rick. Glenn was hovering in your peripheral. Probably a good thing. As soon as Daryl was being seen to, you were sure to collapse yourself. 

“Oh my god! Oh my god, is he dead?”

You turned to find Andrea running toward the group of you, your tired eyes narrowing. She wasn’t a great shot, that much you knew. Surely it wasn’t—

“Unconscious.” Rick answered. “You just grazed him.”

“You?” You hissed, bringing everyone to a stop. “Who the hell is letting you shoot long range?!” 

Clearly offended, Andrea took a step toward you. “It was an accident. It didn’t kill him.” She vaguely gestured toward the man that you had risked your life—your baby—to bring back alive. 

“You bitch.” You sucked on your teeth, digging deep for some semblance of control. 

“Seriously? I went out of my way to be nice to you. I think we’re square here.”

You nodded. “Square. You think we’re square.”

“Come on, Y/N.” Rick lifted his arm away from Daryl’s hand on his shoulder in an attempt to usher you along. Spinning to your right, you snatched Rick’s gun from Glenn, switched off the safety, and had Andrea in your sights before anyone could blink. 

The blonde’s hands raised while voices escalated in panic. All the shocked expressions were meeting one another, clueless as to how to handle the situation. You fully expected to be taken down and locked up somewhere. 

But no one touched you. 

After a very intense moment, you flicked the safety on and held the gun back out to the kid. 

“Square would be grazing your pretty cheek or maybe a little bit of ear. Unlike you, I was raised with a gun. I rarely miss.” You sneered. “Then we’d be square.” Panting from the exertion, you staggered, your own adrenaline running on fumes. 

“What’re you gonna do with her?” Andrea demanded, pulling against Dale’s arm when Rick and Shane dragged Daryl past her. “She aimed a gun at me! What’re you gonna do?”

Lori wrapped an arm around your back, “She didn’t shoot you, Andrea. We can talk about this later. Come on, let’s get you inside.” You saw Maggie approaching, felt her take your other arm as the world tilted. Somewhere past the darkness that was looming you heard:

“Guys! Isn’t this Sophia’s?”

[wufflesvetinari]

ok i'm going to write a ted lasso episode. whumpy but in the way canon can be whumpy. ready? here we go

it's early season 4. ted is back, with henry flying in soon to stay in richmond for a year. ted's set up his bedroom, stocked the apartment with Nerds (henry's favorite candy and a bit harder to find in the uk), even bought a goshdarn ps5. this is going to be great!

meanwhile, jamie has an extremely difficult session with dr. sharon where he ends up unexpectedly unpacking amsterdam for the first time. she did NOT know this was coming when he started telling her the plot of major motion picture the fault in our stars and she did NOT lead him into it as gracefully as she would have liked. you can tell that she's trying to end the session in a less raw place but it is NOT working because she lets him sob about stroopwafel for too long (in an attempt to end on positive memories with his mum) before realizing it's not about the fucking stroopwafel

when the hour is up he bolts out of there despite her best efforts. she drops her rock-solid professional neutrality, presses her forehead into her hands, and says "maybe fucked that one"

but you know what? jamie is handling it. he wakes up the next day, cleans all the snotty tissues off his bed, and comes up with a PLAN.

see, the thing is, he was WAY more stable when he was a prick. and he's practiced so hard NOT being a prick, so...it's overtraining, innit? he forgot to rest his emotion muscles so now he's raw everywhere and cries too much in therapy and wants to fucking scream all the time. so the obvious solution is to take a rest day from having emotions. easy!

and you know what makes it super easy to not have emotions? being a massive prick! it's fine. it's for his health!

MEANWHILE, ted wakes up to news that a storm's grounded henry's flight on a layover. and that something went wonky with his ticket so the airline couldn't immediately find his reservation/rebook him, which was super scary for henry bc the flight didn't have someone attending him the way they were supposed to. and as much as he wants to be with his dad it's already stressful to be leaving the US for a year

so everything's gone wrong, and he called ted like four times but ted slept through it. so by the time they connect henry's super stressed and kind of. yells at his dad for the first time.

so that's a bad start to the day! ted is so disoriented he brings the shopping bag of Nerds to work instead of his lunch

jamie shows up to the locker room having pasted his s1 body language onto his s3 self. he had meant to keep to himself today, but unfortunately his prick persona is an ENTIRE persona, and it doesn't super feel like a choice when he starts making snide comments and sneering at everyone. it feels a bit like one of those horror movies where you can't take the creepy devil mask off, EXCEPT IT DOESN'T, because feelings are absolutely not happening right now, which is! great! fine!

everyone is disturbed (except for ted who's caught in phone tree purgatory with british airways, sorting nerds by color on his desk). jamie insults colin's new threads, implies isaac can't handle the captaincy, turns down a high five from dani with a roll of his eyes, says hi to sam.......actually, he talks to sam completely normally. everyone makes vigorous questioning gestures at sam behind jamie's back. sam shrugs

it gets worse on the field, where the mood is already tense and darkens further when jamie refuses to help richard up after a tackle. beard and nate accuse roy of having given jamie the prick signal by accident somehow. roy denies it but starts second-guessing himself under scrutiny, trying to dissect whether jamie had interpreted the extra paprika he'd put in the curry when meal-prepping for jamie this week as a fucking. secret signal or something.

meanwhile ted is offering his life to british airways. indentured servitude. anything. he would take back 1776 on behalf of his people if he could. he is constantly on the verge of a panic attack and that REALLY bothers him, because it feels like all his progress is going up in smoke over henry hanging up on him

higgins finds him alone in his office gently thumping his head against the desk. "you know, you're such a great dad," ted tells him. "you've built a beautiful family. there's no...gnarly intergenerational emotional knots, no conflict in the House of Higgins. how do you do it?"

higgins blinks at him. "ted, dana knocked terry's tooth out last month. lindsay is a priest."

"well hey now, that's not inherently--"

"no, but it does suggest the presence of some interesting intergenerational emotional knots."

ted blinks up at him. higgins smiles; takes a seat. he says, "fathers and sons."

back outside, roy's starting to lose it. he's becoming honestly scared for jamie, but every time he tries to start a conversation jamie fucking...twists it into a fight, and roy fucking FALLS FOR IT like an IDIOT even though he knows better. because he's gotten out of practice dealing with Prick Jamie and also because jamie knows all of his weak spots now. it's freaking him the fuck out

and jamie is also starting to scream in his own head a little bit. like yeah he'd actively decided on Rest Day, but now he isn't sure how to stop doing Rest Day, and everybody is looking at him weird and that makes it worse, doesn't it, because his stupid lizard brain says he's under attack.

the prick persona is protective, so he keeps on pricking. ignores dr. sharon's phone call. ignores keeley's suspiciously-timed text about getting mimosas. ignores nate trying to give him a helpful-mean speech on the sidelines. ignores--well, no, he slaps sam on the back like usual.

can't be a dick to sam. it's sam, like.

roy mimes furious questions at sam, who's accepted this day for what it is and shrugs harder

ted's out on the sidelines by now, but he's still on the phone. he finally gets henry's ticket sorted, and calls him back in the airport. henry's in tears apologizing for yelling, but ted is just happy he's okay!! and he's going to be with him in london soon!! and...maybe ted didn't handle that perfectly, but it doesn't have to be some grand referendum on ted's parenting ability or his mental health. it's just a missed flight. slow progress is still progress. he's ok. they're both ok

practice ends. jamie slinks back into the locker room with everyone else. he changes into his street clothes lazily, dismissing any attempt to talk to him (ignores jan, ignores zoreaux, ignores roy, says "bye sam" - roy yells "fuck!" around the corner)

the locker room's almost empty. ted calls, "jamie, could you just stop by my office for one sec?"

jamie braces himself. ted fucking lasso is the last thing he needs. ted's the final boss of Rest Day. ted's going to say something that makes him feel fucking terrible about his behavior, and he's not even going to be able to apologize because he's fucking stuck like this, isn't he? like a car stuck in reverse. all he can do is go further back into prickdom: bluster his way through until ted gets fed up and sends him home.

he slams the door closed behind him. "so you got any pearls of wisdom for me, coach? some yoda shit? because i'm getting pretty tired of you pretending to be my fucking dad when we both know--"

"just wanted to give you these," ted says calmly, tossing him a ziploc bag. it's full of yellow Nerds. several little boxes' worth.

"what" jamie says

"i know you only like the yellow ones. needed something to do with my hands, so i sorted some out for you. we won't tell roy, ok? a little extra sugar never killed nobody. except i guess for diabetics, but, well--"

jamie stares at his bag of nerds. he stares harder. he bursts into tears and sinks onto the office floor.

after a beat, ted sits down there with him, waiting for him to get the words together--he babbles something about dr. sharon, and how bad today's been, and about how he really didn't mean to be awful and he thought he was over all this already--both over amsterdam and over treating his friends like this (ted has no idea what "amsterdam" means here but he nods sympathetically)

and he tells jamie about henry, and about how badly he panicked today, and about how progress isn't linear. and it's nice. and jamie gets a hug and puts himself together well enough to run out and catch up with the team for drinks

the rest of the coaches creep back into the office.

"how the fuck did you do that?" roy demands. he is texting jamie as he speaks. he will make him a big, bespoke breakfast tomorrow after their run and glower about it. he will fail to put any of these feelings into words. "how did you--fucking--manually override prick mode?"

nate's eyes are a little shiny for reasons that are NOT projection. "yeah, ted. i mean, things haven't always been smooth with you and jamie, but it's like you've...learned, over time, just what to say. i really do admire that about you."

"oh, well," ted says from the floor. he nods absently to himself, pushing his tongue around the inside of his cheek.

beard leans back in his chair. "you had no idea any of this was happening. you have no clue what we're talking about"

"nope,” ted says. "no, sir, i do not. just thought the kid would like some nerds"

"FUCK" roy says

[misc-obeyme]

do you think Barbatos will act like he's smoking everytime he's eating one of these in private or is it a human thing

ok but you know how in a cool whumpy scene a character smokes. now imagine. a box of these (and other sweet things perhaps) in his dungeon because he doesn't enjoy smoking just wants to be a dramatic bastard. no you can not change my mind

You know, I think Barbatos acting silly when he's by himself is really dang cute. So I hope he does lol.

I agree that he likely wouldn't enjoy smoking. Too toxic! This guy likes subtle flavors like tea and sweet flavors like pastries. So I think if he was gonna do something along these lines, those would be the perfect choice.

I love the image I have in my head right now, absolutely fantastic.

[whumperfultime]

Tarot-Inspired Whump Prompts

I'm enthusiastic about both whump and tarot and those interests were bound to collide at some point. So I wrote a list of writing prompts inspired by the Major Arcana! Five prompts for each card, so there should be something for everyone. Enjoy!

(Also, if you happen to write anything based on any of these, feel free to tag me! I'd be honored to read it.)

The Fool: Accidental whump. Misplaced trust. Leap of faith. Taking a risk. Falling from a high place.

The Magician: Magical whump. Manipulation. Mind control. A charismatic and confident character. A table full of tools for inflicting pain.

The High Priestess: Keeping secrets. Blindfolded whumpee relying on their other senses. Guarding something or someone. Intuitively noticing when something or someone has changed. Cult setting/dynamics.

The Empress: Gilded cage. Lady whump (if you're into that). Comfort in material things. Gentle caretaker. Whumpee not used to experiencing abundance and safety.

The Emperor: Strict whumper and/or strict rules. Royal whump. Wartime. Stoic leader trying to remain calm for the sake of their team. High security.

The Hierophant: Religious whump. Institutionalized whump. Punished for questioning authority. Pressure to conform. Power leading to corruption.

The Lovers: Yandere whump. Sadistic choice. Forced to watch. Protectiveness. Multiple whumpees, whumpers, caretakers, etc.

The Chariot: Car crash. On the run. Kidnapped and forced into a vehicle. Lost and stranded. Unwanted and distressing thoughts.

Strength: Whumpee turned caretaker or whumper. Monster character. Patient caretaker. Animal attack. Emotional support animal.

The Hermit: Isolation. Sensory deprivation. Neglect. Feeling like an outcast. Going into hiding.

Wheel of Fortune: Bad luck. Time heals all wounds. Long-term captivity. Painful anniversaries. Wrong place, wrong time.

Justice: Whumper being arrested. Detached/indifferent whumper or caretaker. Wrongful imprisonment. Privileges vs. punishments. Shutting off emotions so logic can take over.

The Hanged Man: Stress position. Caught in a net. Restrained and abandoned. Hanging. Standing cuffs.

Death: Grief. Recovery milestones. Immortal whumpee dying over and over. Left behind. Visiting a grave.

Temperance: Drugged whumpee. Personality changes due to trauma. Angel character. Poisoning. Mad scientist whumper.

The Devil: Demon character. Sadistic whumper. Addiction and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Pet whump. Collared.

The Tower: Building collapse. Struck by lightning. Drastic change. A character being overpowered. Shocking revelation or betrayal.

The Star: Bathing (whether this is peaceful or whumpy is up to you). Drowning. Finally being able to rest. Anything having to do with recovery. Dehydration.

The Moon: Nightmares. Lost in the woods. Werewolf character. Illusions or hallucinations. Running on pure survival instinct.

The Sun: Sunburn. Public figure whumpee. Forced to perform. First time outside after being held captive. Heatstroke.

Judgement: Revenge. Sound torture. Deity character. Punishment. Resurrected from the dead.

The World: Endings (positive or negative). Breaking the cycle of abuse. Overwhelmed by choices. Regaining personal autonomy. Closure and acceptance (or lack thereof).

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Whump Community for Palestine

(inspired by @i-eat-worlds ! Their post can be found here, and they're offering 500-word drabbles)

I'll draw the character of your choice with a screenshot of proof of donation made to:

PCRF (Palestinian Children's Relief Fund)

UNRWA (United Nations Relief and Works Agency)

CareforGaza

Doctors Without Borders

OR the donation of an eSims ($14+ USD). Here's a guide

You can pm me the screenshot, and we'll talk about what you want in your piece!

🇵🇸

more details/art examples under the cut:

proof of donation of 5+ USD equivalent: black and white bust of your character of choice OR a chibi

proof of donation of 10+ USD equivalent: colored + minimally shaded bust of your character of choice

donation of 14+ USD equivalent or an eSim: colored + minimally shaded 3/4 body of your character of choice

~hands, poses, and props can be included depending on the complexity!~

I will draw:

- injuries/gore

- suggestive/nsfwhump (must be 18+)

- whumpy and non-whumpy poses

- OCs (hell yeah)

If you aren't sure, ask! I'm pretty flexible and willing to draw a lot aha

[defire]

Masterpost

Very active whump blog containing mature themes. I would classify whump as a subgenre of horror/thriller, involving an intense focus on the torment of one's favorite protagonists and the process of moving past one's trauma.

Favorite whump tropes!

Defiant/stoic whumpee

Living weapon!

Child abuse whump and minor and young adult whumpees

Gang whump/multiple whumpers

Captivity/pet/slave/conditioning

Punishment/humiliation

Beating/whipping

Restraints and threats

Nsfwhump--Rape, noncon, nudity

All the little details (the tiny touches, closing eyes, swallowing, the ANGST)

Humor

Realistic caretaking with friction and PTSD

Back to the Dregs <Used-as-bait novella>

A young detective thought he'd left his problems in his past, but when he's kidnapped as bait for his gangster brother, he has to find a way to escape. Before they figure out his brother hates him.

Masterpost ao3 Amazon

The Ghost of Seattle <Living Weapon Book>

In post-apocalyptic Seattle, a boy becomes a living weapon for his abusive father. When he takes his life into his own hands and joins another gang, he believes he's now fighting for people that won't use him. But he is wrong.

Details Amazon Ghost's theme song

Dance of Death <fantasy riches-to-rags book>

When a young noble finds out that her friends are being legally abused, she sees no choice but to take a political stand against it, using humorous comments that cleverly discredit her opposition. But she has no idea how far her enemies will go to crush her spirit.

Masterpost ao3 (nsfw version) Amazon (nsfw version)

Information on The Kill-Touch <novella coming soon>

My music (it's not whumpy it's just kind of autistic)

My favorite Tumblr whump stories (post)

[serickswrites]

Better Me Than You V

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, referenced burns, referenced drowning, electrocution, knife, forced to watch, forced to hurt, infection

"I have the most amazing idea," Whumper said excitedly as they returned.

Team Leader refrained from groaning. All of Whumper's ideas were painful. All of them were difficult to endure. But Team Leader had to endure or else Whumper would surely kill Smallest Teammate.

"Chain them up in those standing cuffs," Whumper ordered Smallest Teammate.

Smallest Teammate helped Team Leader stand. Team Leader's body ached with each small movement. "I'm sorry," Smallest Teammate said again.

"It's ok," Team Leader said as they slowly walked to the cuffs. They weren't going to do anything to provoke Whumper. Smallest Teammate was gentle as they raised Team Leader's wrists to the standing cuffs, gently clicking the cuffs in place.

"Excellent, let me get the other part set up," Whumper said, their glee evident from the skip in their step.

Team Leader sighed. Whatever Whumper had planned. It would be painful. But they had to endure it. They could endure it. They had no choice.

They could endure being burnt again. Probably. The burns that littered their body were definitely infected. But they could endure that pain.

They could endure being drowned again. Probably. That was harder. To lay there and not be able to breathe. But they could endure the fear.

But as Whumper turned around, cattle prod and knife in each hand, Team Leader wasn't so sure they could endure. "Take these," Whumper ordered Smallest Teammate.

"No," Smallest Teammate said quickly, not even glancing at Team Leader.

Team Leader worked to keep their face blank. They weren't sure they could endure being shocked again. They weren't sure they could endure being cut up. That might be too much. Their body was so weak as it was. But they had to endure. Or Whumper would kill Smallest Teammate.

"It's ok, Smallest Teammate," Team Leader said quickly. They braced themself. They could hold on. The rest of the team would be here soon. "Do as Whumper orders. It will be ok."

Team Leader hoped they were right. They hoped that the team would arrive soon. And most of all as they watched Smallest Teammate take up the knife and cattle prod with shaking hands, they hoped that Whumper wouldn't let this go on for very long.

Tags: @aarika-merrill @gala1981 @lthrboy @bookworm7543 @echo-of-umbra

@whump321 @st0rmm @whump-lover-and-reader @corbytheking @acer-whumpstuff @annng567

@defire @artisticdemon @tender-traps @crazytechpersonzreal @orangeduckweed

@st0rmm @a-living-canvas @whumpy-mountains @pic-star01 @mousepaw

@jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump @steh-lar-uh-nuhs

@celestialsoyeon @ay5ksal @corbytheking @dragonfireridge @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[tonystarchive]

IRONDAD & SPIDER-SON WHUMP MASTERLIST—PART 1

Last Updated: September 2023

As promised, here is my long overdue Irondad Whump Masterlist! This list took an embarrassing amount of time to compile and over forty pages in my Google Docs (!!!!!).

Due to the sheer amount of fics, I will be posting in parts. Within these posts, each fic will categorized by its most prevalent trope/theme.

I hope the work from these talented contributors brings as much whumpy joy to you as they do to me!

Also, a very special shoutout to my most treasured Irondad authors iron_spider, for_the_night, madasthesea, losingmymindtonight, AdVitemAeternum, MotherKarizma, and so many more! This post is dedicated to you. ♡ 

Adoption/Tony Stark is Peter Parker’s Biological Father

5 Times Tony Acted Like Peter’s Dad by for_the_night

Summary: “And the one time he actually was." *Featuring an award evening, nightmares, a father-son field trip, appendicitis, and a very special gift—oh, and SO many forehead kisses.*

Alive and Healing by Watermeloness

Summary: “‘...bank robbery gone wrong in Queens. We’re receiving live footage from the crime site, where a 15-year-old teenager has been severely injured. Witnesses report a young boy getting shot after trying to stop the perpetrators. The last we’ve heard, his state is critical and he’s being rushed to…’ Statistically, there are a lot of 15-year-old teenagers in Queens. The city is filled with 15-year-old teenagers that are all brave in their own ways. This doesn’t have to be their teenager. But Peter is not picking up his phone.”

Dad Is Just A Word (You Give It Meaning) by madasthesea

Summary: “Father's Day, two years after May dies. Peter has something special to give and something important to say.”

For Want of a Dad (In Need of a Son) by GhostInTheBAU

Summary: “So, have you given the camping trip any more thought?’ Ned asks, and he groans internally at the change in subject.  He'd much rather go back to talking about his non-existent love life, thanks.  The trip is during spring break—a four-day long trek out into the wilderness, camping and hiking and gathering who even knows what, learning all about nature and the great outdoors. But the real kicker?  It's an event specifically designed for fathers and their sons, which is something Peter doesn't have, and something he will never be. Not again." Or: Peter longs to have a deeper relationship with his mentor, a more meaningful connection; but he's managed to convince himself that the only reason Tony Stark spends any time with him at all is purely because of his enhancement. Because of Spider-Man.

Homebound by AdVitamAeternam

Summary: “Shortly after Homecoming, Peter starts having panic attacks. Tony happens to have some experience with those. What do you do when everyone around you has a tendency to die? What do you do when the last person, the most precious, the one you absolutely cannot lose, maybe wants you? Do you give in, or do you run? Do you take what they offer, or do you keep them as far away from the disaster that is your life as you can?”

I Love You More Than Anything Series by iron_spider

Summary: “The highs and lows of Tony unexpectedly becoming a single dad at 31—from Peter’s early baby years, all the way past the defeat of Thanos”

I’ll Always Protect You (Even If You Don’t Want Me To) by JAWorley

Summary: “So much changed with Peter’s body chemistry after the bite that new things are still coming up that surprise him. One day he and Tony are having a fight and Peter is so stressed out he ends up having a seizure. Seizures… great, so that’s a thing now, and Tony has decided that the best thing is for Peter to stop being Spider-Man. The more the seizures happen, the more protective Tony becomes. All Peter wants is to have his life back." Or: May asks Tony to take joint custody of Peter to help with the Spider-Man thing and this new stress seizure issue. Peter learns that sometimes parents do what’s necessary even if it’s not a popular choice with their kids.

Questions of Science, Science and Progress (Do Not Speak As Loud As My Heart) by l_u_c_k_y_c_l_o_v_e_r

Summary: “I had to find you, tell you I need you. Tell you I set you apart." Or: Peter stays with Tony for a few weeks, and the pair get into all kinds of shenanigans. And maybe, just maybe, those few weeks will usher in something more.

These Days I’ll Sit On Cornerstones by Finny3120

Summary: “Tony was ill-prepared to find that the vigilante he'd recruited was a 14-year-old boy. He was even less prepared for Peter Parker to be mute. But Peter hasn't spoken since his uncle died. And the more Tony works with the teen, the less it matters to him. He hears Peter just fine.” 

You’re Stuck With Me by for_the_night

Summary: “I’m adopting you. I don’t care what you have to say.’ Peter gaped. Of all of the entrances he’d expected from Mister Stark after being alone in a hospital room for hours, that wasn’t one of them." Or: Peter gets taken to hospital with a ruptured appendix and Tony comes to a daunting realization of just how little hold he has on the kid outside of Medbay.

Alternate Universe

My Baby, My Baby by SpaceCowboysFromMars

Summary: “Silence falls over them like a warm blanket. Distantly, there’s commotion down on the street as people walk home from clubs. Peter thinks Tony might be his best friend in the whole world. After a long, peaceful moment, Tony says, voice dripping with warmth, ‘Night, kid.’  ‘Goodnight, Mr. Stark." Or: Tony and Peter in the middle of the night, in five alternate universes.

Visiting Hours by Sara (ctrsara)

Summary: “Boss?’ Tony jolted out of his half-asleep state. ‘What’s up, FRI?’ ‘There is a visitor here to see you.’ Tony jumped up. Anyone he knew would usually call or text first, so he was immediately on alert.   ‘Who is it, FRI?’ ‘I need you to have an open mind, and know that I do not believe this person is any threat.’ Oh, yeah, that made him feel better.  ‘Excuse me? How about you let me decide that, Watson?’ He started walking towards the door, activating his watch gauntlet.   ‘Wait, Boss.’ He was annoyed, but he trusted his AI enough to stop and listen. ‘I also need you to know that I have performed biometric scanning, and this person is who they appear to be. However, they insist they’re not from our universe, and that is the part I don’t understand." — In a universe where he never invented time travel, and never brought anyone back, Tony Stark gets a late-night visitor he never could have expected. Prompt taken from @idk-bruh-20 Irondad fic idea #97 on Tumblr. Idea from @derpmallow.

What The Heart Knows by AdVitamAeternam

Summary: “When Peter wakes up, his head is being assaulted by a sledgehammer. He has no idea where he is. He has no idea what happened to him. He has no idea who he is, other than ‘Peter.’ But then, he looks over at the man who is scrutinizing him with worried eyes, and he knows who the man is. That's his dad." Or: The one where Peter gets hit over the head really, really hard and has temporary amnesia, and makes a very reasonable assumption based on the data presented to him.

Angst

A Far Green Country by madasthesea

Summary: “He just wanted Peter to be happy. More than anything in the world, he wanted Peter to be happy. Oh, Tony thought as that realization sunk down into the pit of his stomach and took root. I love him.”

A River To Skate Away On by frostysunflowers

Summary: “Peter has survived a spider bite, a building falling on him, turning to dust and being a teenager. He can handle anything. Except being forgotten.”

Agape by canon irondad (tomlinsoul)

Summary: “It's Tony's first date night with Pepper since the Snap, and Peter can't wait to spend some quality time with his little sister. Too bad a pair of hapless intruders, head trauma, and a panicked helicopter ride throw a spanner in the works." Whumptober 2022 Day 8: Head Trauma + Day 7: Seizures + Day 19: Repeatedly Passing Out + BTHB: Big Brother Instinct

Broken Heart Syndrome by iron_spider

Summary: “Tony is clearly really upset, the kind of upset that Peter’s only seen the likes of a couple of times, and it’s too close after everything happening to really talk about it. He can definitely see that now.  ‘I’m sorry,’ Peter says. ‘I’m sorry, I should have answered—’ ‘Yeah, you should have answered!’ Tony yells. His bottom lip is trembling and he shakes his head, his eyes wild. He runs his hand over his forehead. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll know for next time,’ Peter says. He doesn’t know what’s gonna make this better. Probably nothing. ‘There better not be a next time,’ Tony says, dropping his hand from his face. ‘God, like this? Pete, no one knew where he was but you, and you—you kept it that way so nobody knew what the hell was happening, and you—you weren’t answering, kid, and that asshole sent me all that shit plucked directly from my nightmares, and I was trying to be strong for May because she was worried, too, and you—and you, I—I thought I wasn’t gonna ever—I thought—Jesus, Peter, you don’t think, you don’t—’ Tony bends over, clutching at his arm and breathing hard through his mouth.”

Dead In There, You’re Dead In There by iron_spider

Summary: “Peter, you’ve been acting insane for the past however many days and it’s giving me an ulcer, what’s going on, what did I do? Tell me. Tell me and I’ll fix it.’ Peter is still stalking around, and Friday is listing off his injuries, from a concussion to broken ribs to a sprained ankle, and Tony feels sick looking at it all. ‘You’ll fix it,’ Peter says, glancing over at him with pure disdain, the look bookended by matching explosions somewhere behind them. ‘Yeah it’s something you can’t fix, if it happens, nope, can’t fix it, it would just—but you’re just saying—’ Tony starts forward towards him. ‘Pete, explain to me what’s happening, please.’ ‘The protocol, the protocol,’ Peter insists, waving his hands through the air. Tony shakes his head. ‘The protocol?’ ‘The Avalon Protocol, Tony,’ Peter spits out, with venom.”

Dead-Eyed by iron_spider

Summary: “Hey,’ Tony says, fast, into the phone. ‘Everything alr—’ ‘Hey, no, I don’t know where he is,’ MJ says, in a rush of breath. ‘I don’t know where he is, Tony, and I know I have access to that tracking thing, but it feels weird for me to do that, and it doesn’t feel weird for you to do that, so you should do that. And find him and tell me what’s going on.’ ‘Okay, calm down,’ Tony says, getting up and stepping back from his workstation. ‘You know you can’t tell me to calm down, because I’m calm, and I’m always calmer than you because you’re like, inherently, not calm. At all, about anything, but especially about your family—’ ‘Okay, this is not calm,’ Tony says, starting to pace, even though he’s not calm either, she’s right. She sighs loudly in his ear. ‘When was the last time you saw him?”

Earthly Dust From Off Thee Shaken by ExpectoPatronum

Summary: “It had started with leaving his bedroom light on at night before he went to sleep. For a while, that had been enough. But then it wasn't.”

“Forever” by WithACherryOnTop

Summary: “Peter could feel the darkness creeping up on him again, like it had only moments earlier in the Avengers Compound bullpen. ‘‘ony.’ ‘Just go to sleep, bud.’ Tony gently scratched his nails at the nape of Peter’s neck. Peter collapsed bonelessly in Tony’s arms, all evidence of the tears, crying, and sobs hidden except for a stained shirt and the boy’s even, congested breaths. Tony wiped a hand over his face, a bit flustered. ‘Wow. That went way worse than I expected." Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel and/or Sony. I do not give permission for this work to be copied and/or posted to any other sites.

Gonna Pick Up The Pieces by orphan_account

Summary: “I don’t want to talk to you,’ Peter says. He’s been hiding for the better part of an hour, sitting in the cabin’s laundry room, wedged between the washer and the dryer. Something about the sounds coming off of them calms him, weirdly. The swish of water, the rumble of the motors, cotton rubbing cotton, the button on a pair of jeans dinging the side of the barrel.  ‘That’s bullshit,’ Tony says. ‘You always want to talk to me.’ As true as that usually is, this time it rings discordant and tense. Peter clenches his jaw. ‘Not really,’ he says. ‘You just sorta assume that.’ ‘Of course I do. I make for lovely conversation.’ ‘Eh.”

Head’s On The Fritz by augustheart

Summary: "Hello?’ ‘Tony?’ ‘The one and only. What’s up, kiddo?’ The answer rises up in Peter's throat. Stops at the back of his tongue and wobbles there, heavy and leaden. He wants to spit it out, to cough it into the unbearable silence, to not be loud—but, to be steady. ‘I—’ he says. He trembles. ‘Can you—come over? Please?" Or: Tony makes things better

Hold Me Together by An_Odd_Idea

Summary: “Peter still doesn’t feel quite solid. Sometimes Tony can’t believe he’s really there either. They cope.”

I Have You by sweetspiderstew

Summary: “Tony has Peter all to himself, and there's nothing else like some good quality time in the workshop, but little mishaps happen, and there's a lot of hugging.”

I’ll Be Right Here by An_Odd_Idea

Summary: “Peter has a nightmare, and Tony goes to be sure he’s okay. It’s not the first one of its kind.” 

It Came At Night by Marvelous_Writer

Summary: “What’s supposed to be a normal weekend visit to the Compound turns into one of disaster when unexpected visitors show up." (Set after Spider-Man: Homecoming) Whumptober Day Five: Gunpoint

It’s Time to Leave (and Turn to Dust) by hopeless_hope

Summary: "We’re going to help you, I promise, but you’ve got to trust me. Do you trust me?’ Peter looks at his mentor, fear written across his face. He raises a shaking hand back to Tony’s chest, and Tony places his hand over the kid’s. Peter closes his eyes and feels the hard surface of the arc reactor against his palm.  Peter doesn’t like soft things, but this isn’t soft. It’s solid and steady and strong and feels like a truth he can believe in. It feels like presence.  ‘Yeah, I trust you." (In which Peter has trouble coping with the events of Infinity War, but a certain Tony Stark is there to help.)

Meltdown by inkinmyheartandonthepage

Summary: “You said two-thirty,’ Peter said, acting as if he hadn’t heard Tony. ‘I forgot that you changed it to two thirty and not three.’ Tony took a step towards Peter. ‘Hey, Pete. It’s fine. You’re not that late kiddo. Hell, I’ve been to board meetings hours late.’ The joke didn’t land, and Peter’s eyes started to well with tears. He took in a hiccupping breath. ‘Oh god. I forgot. I forgot." Or: Peter isn't coping after Titan and has been doing everything to keep busy and not think about it. Everything comes to head when he forgets that a time was changed in his busy schedule leading to a meltdown.

Mine, And Yours by crowkag

Summary: “Is it Peter?’ He was met with loaded silence. The anxiety spark became an anxiety plunge and twist. ‘Happy. Is it Peter?’ ‘It’s… well. Who else would it be, right?’ ‘Hogan.’ He hated this. The spark, the plunge, the twist. The tension creeping from his shoulder blades, clawing down arms both flesh and metal, somehow, someway, and bunching up inside his palms. The hysteria of it all. ‘It’s—alright, I won’t sugarcoat it. The kid’s alive, but he got shot, Tony. Twice." Or: Tony reunites with Peter in a less-than-ideal manner.

Relax, Just Breathe by hailfire_73

Summary: “Tony,’ said Peter, lifting his head from the glass, his stubbornness spent. ‘I don’t feel so—’ ‘Do not,’ said Tony, through gritted teeth, and meeting Peter’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He had just one hand on the steering wheel as he drove them into the night. ‘Finish that sentence.’ Morgan leaned over, hung out of her booster seat, and whispered, ‘It gives dad attacks." Or: The Starks go on a road trip that goes wrong when Peter gets food poisoning from questionable carnival food.

Scars Can Heal And Reveal Just Where You Are by parkrstark

Summary: “Jesus Christ, Pete,’ the voice says again, and it's not just a voice. It's a voice that belongs to the shadow. The shadow is light in the dark. It's warm. ‘What are you doing on the floor? You're lucky you're by your bed or else it would have been you breaking my fall.’ Peter blinks at the shadow and can't tell if he's comforted or irritated by the new company. ‘What? No quip about me breaking a hip?’ There's silence. ‘Peter?" 

Shots Ring Out by itsluckyyou

Summary: “Peter Parker had training. Training to deal with robbers, petty crime, and possible alien invasions. Nothing could have possibly trained him for this, though." Or: There's a shooter wandering the halls of Midtown School of Science and Technology.

The Pills (They Gotta Go) by searchingforstars

Summary: “Tony. What are these?’ Tony glances up. Sees the packs of pills clenched in Peter’s fist. He’s sure some of them must be dust judging by the force that Peter is holding them with. ‘My pills?’ ‘Why are they sitting at the back of the pantry?’ Peter asks, voice dangerously low." Or: Tony decides taking his medication is optional. Peter strongly disagrees.

We All Have A Hunger by MotherKarizma

Summary: “Morgan,’ he croaked, throat afire, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Hey—hey, it’s okay, I’m just…’ ‘You’re sick.’ She mustered up something like bravery, using it to straighten her back and plaster a very grown-up look on her face. ‘I’ll get Daddy!’ ‘No!’ Morgan jumped, eyes wide. Peter fought to calm his voice. He offered her a smile that couldn’t have been convincing, not even to a five-year-old. ‘No, you don’t have to. I feel better  now. You don’t have to tell him.’ Morgan’s lips wobbled. Peter knew what her fake pout looked like well enough to know this wasn’t it. ‘Petey…’ Peter had a lot of reasons to feel guilty. He felt guilty for scaring her. He felt guilty for forgetting to lock his bedroom door, for making scaring her a possibility. He kind of, in a way, felt guilty for doing it in the first place, though not nearly enough to stop. But more than anything, he felt guilty for this: ‘Morgan, promise me you won’t tell him. He…he won’t let us swim anymore if you do. And I’m not sick, my tummy just hurt a little bit, but I’m all better now. Promise me you won’t tell him, okay?’ ‘But…’ ‘Morgan. Promise.”

We’re Here by An_Odd_Idea

Summary: “Comfortember prompt 3: Nightmares Peter has nightmares about when Thanos stabbed Tony on Titan”

Who Needs a Happy New Year When You Can Have a Happy Forever? by searchingforstars

Summary: “Peter's already feeling insecure about his place in Stark family holiday traditions, but it turns out it doesn't really matter because New Year’s Eve is significantly less fun when you’re a pair of PTSD-riddled superheroes, anyway." Or: Tony has a panic attack in a Burger King.

Without You (I Was Broken) by parkrstark

Summary: "How did you get shot? You just webbed me up 5 stories from being shot!’ ‘D-Didn’t know it was coming.’  ‘Dammit, Peter! This isn’t the first time your spidey sense hasn’t worked. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt because Rhodey told me I was being insane. Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t always working? You shouldn’t go out into battle like this when your powers are being wonky and—’ ‘You’re here.’ ‘What?’ ‘You’re here.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I don’t...I can’t really feel the danger when you’re around."

[aceofwhump]

Hey Ace 👋

Do you have any good Rodney whump fics or Ronan whump fics to recommend

I am only like half way through season 2 of Atlantis but I think I spoiled most of the show for myself through the whumpy gifs and videos I see everywhere lol

(P.S may we see a pic of your cat? 👉👈)

Hiya!! Ooh I love Rodney and Ronan whump. Yeah let me see what I can find for ya.

Rodney Whump:

Desperate Measures By: angw Stuck in a mine shaft Rodney has to make a choice to survive.

Four Times Rodney McKay Got Shot Saving the Day By: LinziDay Four times Rodney McKay got shot saving the day and one time he didn't .

Guppy By: GateBiscuit Rescuing McKay from the lost, leaky Puddle Jumper was the easy part. Tag to Grace Under Pressure. Team fic

Reason #1 Why Rodney Likes Food By igiveup101 “Fine,” Rodney gave in, shoulders slumped. “But you’ll be sorry when I’m dying of hypoglycemic shock.” OR Sheppard and the team agree to sit and reflect for a few hours. It goes, predictably, horribly awry.

Soldiering On By: LilRicki In which Rodney gets severely whumped but is still awesome enough to save the team from certain doom.

Candle in the Dark By: Sholio An accident leaves Sheppard and McKay a little too dependent on each other.

Hypoglycaemia By: Alipeeps Hypoglycaemia or low blood glucose is a condition in which the level of glucose sugar in the blood, drops below a certain point... Special request fic written for McKayRocks! Featuring McKay and Shep whumpage in abundance.

Ronon Whump:

Silent Sacrifice by Daring Duo - John, Rodney, and Ronon try to survive after crash landing on an unexplored planet. Their injuries and lack of supplies begin to take their toll as they wait to be rescued.

Red Sands by kirsten999 - Stranded on a harsh, desolate world, John and Ronon learn that merely surviving is only half the fight.

Finding Home by LadyShelley - Free of the Wraith, Ronon must decide if he is going to stay in Atlantis or leave to seek vengeance alone. While still trying to make up his mind, he and Rodney are trapped in one of the city’s towers, and each starts to learn more about the other as they wait for someone to find them.

A Light In Dark Places by LordVaako - Where was Ronon? Carson’s head felt like a boulder had dropped on it. The low ringing in his ears, coupled with a throbbing headache, made him touch his temple. He removed his fingers and inhaled in surprise at the crimson smears. ** Ronon is sent to bring Carson back to Atlantis, but the good doctor wants to spend more time with a village’s healer. When the village is attacked, Ronon and Carson are badly injured. They must rely on each other to get back to the Stargate.

Red Sands by kristen999 - Stranded on a harsh, desolate world, John and Ronon learn that merely surviving is only half the fight.

Febuwhump Day 1: touchstarved By Yesimevil After living for seven years as nothing more than a hunted animal, settling back into a form of society was… difficult, to say the least. Ronon suddenly became overwhelmed with people and things and safety, and no idea what the hell he was supposed to do with any of it, and from his inability to hold a conversation to the alien feeling of a toothbrush in his hand, he supposed that he had, in a way, forgotten how to be human.

Whumptober 2022 day 31: a light at the end of the tunnel By Yesimevil Takes place after Broken Ties. Ronon struggles to recover from the events of the episode, but his friends are there for him.

And yes I'd love to share a picture of my kitty! Her name is Sable and this pic is from the last time I took her outside

[whomeidontknowthem]

My guiltiest whumpy pleasure of all is, I think, Whumpers who are forced to torture Whumpees, not having a choice in this -- be it because of having to obey their boss, blackmail, trying to save the whumpee through something worse, even just not knowing how else to be.

There's something in the reluctance and guilt that doesn't erase the damage done that gets to me. Whumper's hands trembling when they see Whumpee flinch away from them in terror. The memories of blood on their hands that keep them awake at night. The terrible, soul dissolving guilt of having done something so terrible to another human being. Where do they get the resolve to steady their hands and pick up the knife?

One of the first daydreaming stories I came up with when I was maybe nine or ten, had my self-insert MC be tortured terribly by that one evil king. They fought against the king and were taken captive and suffered greatly, and hated the king passionately, until he managed to let them know the truth: that he was controlled by an even eviller deity and had no choice in the pain he had caused. I had the MC make a deal with that deity, their soul in exchange for the king's. He was thrown away and went straight to the MC's allies, telling them about everything, begging them to believe him and to follow his plan.

It wasn't a very good story (point me to a single child whose was), but the idea still haunts me. Having no say in the pain you caused, having to live with the guilt and the hate, not being allowed to even acknowledge how much you have suffered because you are the monster in this story. There's something in it that is just. So impactful for me.

Nowadays it's often less black and white. Simplistic Whumpers who torture just because they want to are fun! I often have them when I want to focus on the Whumpee. Seeing someone cope with horrors is always so very interesting to me.

But Whumpers who have reasons to do what they do? Who justify it to themselves? Who don't seek to cause unnecessary pain? Who are gentle not as a part of a twisted game but because they genuinely want to make it as easy as it can be? Who change their attitude daily because they can't but they have to, or they don't even know what they want and go from one extreme to the other? There's something special in it.

Whumpers who are Whumpees in their own right. Whose suffering does not erase the pain they'd caused, who are rightfully seen as monsters but are humans, with all the pain that comes with this affliction.

[geode-crystal]

Another whumpy scene from a book that lives in my head rent free:

Nonhuman Whumpee is a magical being with the power to grant wishes... but only if they are beaten in a fight.

And when that fight starts, Whumpee physically cannot hold back.

Caretaker has absolutely no intention of putting Whumpee through that again. Whumper already beat too many wishes out of them. Caretaker's the one who freed them from Whumper, after all, and Caretaker would never want to hurt their friend.

Until they're all caught in a situation that leaves them with no choice. The only way out is for Caretaker to wish everything back to the way it should be.

Which means Caretaker is forced to fight tooth and nail against Whumpee, someone they have grown to deeply care about.