#(asks i answer)

[slo2004blog]

I love your tags! "beauty in the mundane" "leftism needs further reading".. etc.

Thankssss it's definitely a joy to get a bunch of notifications and see that someone is browsing one of my umbrella tags. I used to feel bad that I wasn't tagging everything exhaustively but I realise I would rather just use a small set of terms to communicate something that I really care about. 'Beauty in the mundane' is probably the most popular on my small blog and it warms my heart everytime it resonates with someone.

[wounds-seen-and-unseen]

10. What is your favorite whumpy story you have written?

Hello!

Thank you for the question! I am assuming this is for @whumpmasinjuly hence tagging @whumpmasinjuly-archive as well.

The answer is that it varies by character.

I usually write about Arjun and Jaime Lannister.

For Arjun, Vagdhandaja is a story I genuinely have cried writing, and I am sure that story has even more scenes that can bring me near tears. But I like it regardless, because, unlike canon, what happened to Arjun is recognised as wrong. His mother and his wife help him heal, for all that he was hurt severely.

For Jaime, The War That Outlasted Christmas is my favourite in the ones I have posted about him, because, again, for all that he has been and will be hurt in multiple ways of varying severity, his parents and people who care about him will step up to protect him and help him with healing.

In my as yet unpublished works, I do enjoy Yathamathi for Arjun (which I am revamping) and Through Trails and Trials for Jaime, because both of these, again, feature enormous hurt to either the PoV character or someone they care about, along with a dash of misunderstood whumpee, but the misunderstandings about them resolve splendidly in story.

Honorable mention definitely goes to Embers and Shards, my Caelon PoV of the amazing Sun and Glass series by @whumpflash Exploring Caelon’s trauma is a difficult, but very rewarding thing to do!

Thanks again for the ask!

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[amvipod]

brief thought on tenna as armor / natural consequence

[gingermaple]

would sage keep some of recluses feathers because hes weird

i can do you one better

[bamsara]

as soon as the disorders stop disordering and the disability stops debilitating I will be so unstoppable powerful forever

[meo-eiru]

Engagement

YAYAYAY I MANAGED TO FINISH IT IN TIME! TWO PAGES IN ONE DAY! Ignore it being 2 am

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

feel free to ignore this :3

Mabel saying ‘you would make such a good mother’ to Ford like she does to Grenda in canon would be pretty funny

Prev Next

He knows she's trying to help 🥲

[catbyte404]

Put the knife down, child.

[carlyraejepsans]

you know what infuriates me the most about the way people talk about kris and toriel?

growing up as a depressed teenager when your parents love you is so unspeakably painful, because the moment you start to grow up and get better and have a chance to look back on the past with clearer eyes, you realize that for every attempt at connecting you shot down, every conversation you reluctantly got dragged into, every time they prodded at your loneliness and pushed you to make friends, for every way they tried to help that didn't work because you were too broken and ontologically bad and sick in the head for it to stick... your parents spent years of their life suffering alongside you, worrying themselves to rags, helplessly watching their kid suffer because they lacked the ability or the knowledge or the medicine to make it better. but because they didn't lack the will (because they're good parents and they love you) they just kept slamming themselves against the wall between you, hoping something, anything would one day reach. because they just want you to be okay.

if you see a child go hungry because their family struggles to put food on the table, if you see a mother at her child's sickbed holding their hand and wiping the sweat off their brow because she can't do anything else to take the pain away, you would never blame them for "failing to provide what their child needs". so how the fuck do you watch toriel run around hometown day after day, asking for information or anything that could make kris feel better because she's one of 2 people total who noticed something is wrong, when the reason they're hurting to begin with is that they're possessed by a god and probably doomed to die..... and feel anything other than pity. for both of them. how do you see them as anything other than victims of very tragic circumstances. why does this fandom always treat the phrase "toriel is a nuanced character" as synonymous with any of this being her fucking fault

[slo2004blog]

When you first entered the world, did you rise from a dark body of water or crawl out for the depths of a haunted cave?

I'm a haunted cave crawler. There were some cool trannies down there but alas it wasn't my place to stay, their prayers stayed with me though. I can hear a thrumming against the earth whenever I lay down, it's gentle on my ears like the legs of a beetle on your hand.

[cryptidmickle]

hey stop holdin him like that hes supposed to be brooding

[madamadamiu]

Ravage and Ultra Magnus’s ritual before each shift

[andstuffsketches]

[goomyloid]

you will NEVER be them

[ofbatsandballads]

Based on that little blurb you reblogged can I request the batfamily finding out that Jason has a girlfriend by him rummaging through the stuff in his pockets?

They're like dang dude what do you have in there? and it's all hair ties, lip stick, and a recipe for two 💕

-🍬

oh I love a good “Jason hides his lover from his family only for it to get revealed dramatically” fic and now thanks to you, nonnie, I get to write one!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include canon typical injuries, sibling violence, and slight hints at the batfam’s more traumatic interactions. this is mostly a good ol’ batfam fic, because reader is only alluded to, but I really like it. sorry I made it angsty for a sec there, I just can’t resist the Dynamics™️.

Jason should’ve known better. Really, he should’ve. Taking on Killer Croc alone? A fool’s mistake, but he was just too stubborn to say yes when Bruce asked if he’d like some backup. So now here he is, loopy in the Batcave after Waylon absolutely rocked his shit.

“‘S not even that bad,” he slurs.

The fact that he trips on his own feet and nearly faceplants before Bruce catches him says otherwise.

“Sure it’s not, Jaylad. Let’s get you to the medbay,” Bruce grumbles, worry creeping into that stone cold exterior.

“I’m fine, old man. Lemme jus’ go home,” Jason whines.

He’s met with a grunt that firmly negates his request.

“You can stay in your room tonight,” Bruce says.

“Not my home. Wanna go home,” Jason mumbles as he drops onto the medbay bed.

If Bruce’s face drops a bit, if guilt and sorrow flash across his eyes? Well, Jason’s too concussed to notice. Bruce just nods and begins to assess any other injuries Croc may have left on him. When he reaches for the collar of the Kevlar top, Jason flinches away from him so hard that he slams into the wall behind him. It’s only when Bruce realizes that he’d brushed his fingers against the scar on Jason’s neck that he understands why. His heart sinks and he can’t even look at his son. His shame doubles when he hears a trademark sigh of disappointment from behind him.

“C’mon, Littlewing. Let’s get all of this off you,” Dick says gently as he pushes past their father.

Jason doesn’t flinch when Dick starts to remove his gear. In fact, the presence of his older brother sets him at ease.

“I told ‘im I had it covered, Dickie. He didn’t fuckin’ listen,” Jason complains.

“Yeah, had it so covered you’re concussed in the family home?” Dick teases.

“What the fuck, Richard?” Jason groans before breaking out into giggles.

“How hard did Waylon hit him?” Dick jokingly asks Bruce.

“There’s no fractures, but the contusions are appearing rapidly. Jason’s lucky that’s all he got.”

Dick stares blankly at Bruce. He goes to open his mouth to retort that he was kidding, then decides it’s not worth his effort. Tim thinks it is, though.

“Wow, for a guy that’s chronically online for vigilante reasons, you still know nothing about the internet,” Tim laughs as he wanders into the medbay and flops down on the bed next to Jason’s.

Bruce ignores the teasing and catalogs all the injuries that are revealed to him as Dick strips away Jason’s tattered gear. There’s plenty of lacerations on his torso and likely some on his back. A few are deeper but nothing they’ll need to call Leslie for.

“Or maybe your jokes just aren’t funny, Timothy” Damian says haughtily as he sits himself next to Jason.

The thirteen-year-old tries to put on a mask of indifference, but it wavers when he spots the gash on the back of Jason’s right shoulder.

“Akhi, in what world did you think apprehending Waylon Jones alone would go well for you?” Damian scolds.

Jason narrows his seafoam eyes at Damian and lowers his voice.

“Ya really wanna talk about apprehending people alone, demon spawn?” he taunts lightly.

Damian’s eyes widen and he drops the subject because no, he actually does not want to talk about that on account of the fact that he tried to bring in Clayface alone two weeks ago and nearly got immortalized as a clay statue until Jason swooped in. The two of them had scrubbed his Robin suit within an inch of its life to try and hide the excursion from Bruce. It worked; only Alfred noticed the faint hint of clay in the threads of the cape and all he’d done was sigh and shake his head.

Jason’s gear is fully removed and his head is starting to clear a bit, wooziness replaced by a hammering pain in his temples. The headache masks any pain he would feel from the stitches being placed in his back, though he also suspects that those are less painful because Damian is doing them.

“Your technique is gettin’ better, y’know?” Jason whispers, the compliment unheard by the other three men bustling around the room.

The hands stitching him up freeze and he can imagine the look of surprise on Damian’s face even without turning around.

“Thank you,” he mutters. “I think it will be useful for future endeavors.”

Jason smiles to himself. He knows the kid wants to be a doctor, and he thinks it’s a damn better fate for him than whatever Bruce or Ra’s could’ve planned. The silence that settles over the medbay is peaceful, only broken by the sound of clacking computer keys or the zipping of evidence bags. Then, like an unholy boom of thunder, comes the voice of Tim Drake.

“What the hell is all this?”

Jason’s head whips to the side and he sees Tim rummaging through the pockets of his tactical pants. He goes to scramble off the bed and feels the harsh pull of thread that was mid-stitch through his skin.

“Mind your fuckin’ business, replacement!” Jason shouts.

He grabs a pillow and chucks it at Tim’s head, but he just ducks and continues to empty Jason’s pockets. The contents that spill out on the sterile tray are…perplexing to say the least. Two lip balms (one tinted red), three scrunchies (one black and two red), a grocery list with the word strawberries and a woman’s name underlined, a recipe for chicken stir fry with enough for two portions, and one single soft chocolate chip cookie lay unexplained in the harsh white light of the medbay.

If looks could kill, Tim Drake would be dead and buried six feet under.

“What part of mind your fuckin’ business did you not get?” Jason growls, glaring daggers at the nineteen-year-old.

“Holy shit, he’s got a fucking girlfriend!” Tim exclaims.

The pillow hits him square in the face this time. All four sets of eyes turn to him with varying emotions. Shock is evident in the forest green of Damian’s gaze, smugness and vindication in the icy blue of Tim’s, panic and guilt in the ocean blue of Dick’s, and some weird mix of sadness and fondness in the gunmetal blue of Bruce’s eyes that Jason doesn’t want to think about for too long. The acrobat quickly moves across the room and sweeps all the belongings off the tray and back into the pockets of the tac pants. He grabs Jason’s gear from Tim and hands it back to its rightful owner, who clutches it to himself protectively.

“Don’t make assumptions, Tim,” Dick says. “Civilians leave stuff on us all the time.”

It’s true. They’ve all come home with someone’s forgotten work badge or piece of jewelry before. The oddest thing was when Bruce had a Hello Kitty keychain stuck to the end of his cape. Jason casts a subtle look of gratitude at Dick for trying to give him plausible deniability. Not that it works. Tim stares not at Dick, but through him with his pale eyes in a way that makes a chill run down the spine of the eldest son.

“You knew already? How?” Tim asks incredulously.

Really, he’s a bit miffed that he hadn’t figured this out already. He has contingency plan files on each member of his family (himself included) and he had not a clue that Jason might be in a relationship.

“Drop. It. Now.” Jason warns.

Tim doesn’t consider it until he sees Jason’s fingers twitching in the direction of the butterfly knife on his belt. He doesn’t need another scar from Jason shanking him. Well, at least not today.

“Fine. Whatever. But if I have to bring Bernard here for Thanksgiving, then you have to bring,” and he pauses to remember and recite the name on the grocery list, “home too.”

He knows he’s pushed it when Jason lunges at him, dragging Damian and a threaded suturing needle behind him. Tim barely jumps out of the way in time to avoid a punch to the jaw.

“Robin! Knock it off!” Bruce barks.

It’s almost comical the way all four of his boys freeze in place. It is slightly less comical the way they all proceed to glare at him.

“Fuck it,” Jason grumbles as he settles back on the bed for Damian to continue stitching his wounds. “Just get these done so I can go home.”

“Home to his girlfriend,” Tim murmurs.

“I will fuckin’ slash your throat again, you second-rate fuck!”

Bruce lets out one long suffering sigh. He doesn’t know you yet (a quiet part of him hopes he may one day be allowed to) but he already feels sorry that you’ve been roped into all of this. He feels even more sorry when the butterfly knife flies past his head and buries itself into the wall inches from Tim’s neck. Really, what is he going to do with these boys?