#'do you even write whump bro'?

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #28

Masterpost

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Warnings: strangulation 

He couldn’t move. His old master straddled his lap, looking right at him, and he couldn’t move.

How was he here?

He opened his mouth to scream for Ambrose to help him, for anyone, but nothing came out. Master smiled that horrible smile, and wrapped his cold hands around his neck.

He began to squeeze, tearing the breath from him. Elliot wheezed, gasping for air. He pulled at Master’s hands, prying at his fingers, but he only tightened his grip like a vice.

Master leaned down. “You’re never going to get away from me,” he whispered into his ear. “Did you really think you could?”

Blood ran down Master’s wrists as Elliot frantically clawed at his hands and arms.

His strength was fading fast. He weakly tried to hit Master, but he dodged it with ease, laughing.

His vision went black.

___________________

Elliot woke up with a gasp. He shot up, his head and heart pounding. He was alone.

There was no weight pinning him down, no pressure on his throat. He gulped down the cool night air.

It was only a dream. It was only a dream.

He pushed his sweaty bangs up his forehead. His chest heaved, and his legs were tangled in the covers.

He pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them tight, and tried not to sob.

The stuffed bear Ambrose had given him lay on the floor. It must have fallen while Elliot thrashed in his sleep.

Elliot leaned over to pick up the bear. He smoothed over its fur. “Sorry,” he told it.

The bear’s black button eyes looked back at him, and he felt a bit silly for apologizing to a toy.

He shivered, sweat cooling on his skin.

It was a chilly night. Elliot put the bear back on his bed, and pulled a blanket over his shoulders.

His socked feet didn’t make a sound as he crossed over the wooden floor.

Elliot took the fire poker from the stand and prodded the glowing embers in his fireplace. He pushed in some more logs with the poker, and went back to bed.

___________________

He couldn’t get back to sleep. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear Master’s laugh and feel his cold hands on his throat. 

The logs hadn’t caught yet, and it seemed like an omen for how the rest of night would go if he stayed here.

He threw off the covers again, and grabbed his bear. 

Ambrose wouldn’t be mad, right? He said he loved Elliot. Whatever that really meant.

He shuffled out of his room and went upstairs. He didn’t bother knocking on the outer door.

He closed it quietly. The fading scent of incense still hung in the air. Master Ambrose must have been up late, or perhaps the night was younger than he thought.

Elliot knocked on the bedroom door before turning the handle.

Ambrose half sat up, leaning back on his elbow. 

“Ellie?” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, can I sleep with you tonight?” Elliot fidgeted with the stuffed bear.

Ambrose yawned. “Yeah, ‘course you can.”

Elliot crawled into bed, and Ambrose shuffled aside to make room. 

“You okay?” murmured Master Ambrose, pulling the covers over both of them.

“Yeah. Just had a bad dream.”

“Mmm.” Ambrose’s eyes fluttered, clearly half asleep. Elliot snuggled into him, bear still in his arms. 

It was nice and warm under the blankets, and Elliot knew Ambrose wouldn’t let his old master strangle him.

Ambrose’s faint flowers-and-bergamot perfume was soothing, and it was easy to fall asleep to the sound of his steady breathing.

___________________

Elliot woke up late in the morning. He looked around, and was surprised to see Ambrose propped up against the headboard, book in hand.

“Morning,” said Master Ambrose. He turned a page.

“Good morning, sir.”

“I think I’ll need to go to the bank in Lakeview soon.”

“Lakeview?” Elliot sat up. He didn’t know where that was.

“Mhm. I need to make a deposit and arrange some payments.” Ambrose put the book aside and stretched.

“I’ll be gone for a couple days. You can either come with me, or stay here, whichever you prefer.”

Ambrose hopped out of bed and began to dig through his dresser. “I’m going to take a bath,” he said, pulling out a set of clothes.

Elliot watched him go into the bathroom.

He didn’t want to travel all the way to Lakeview, but the idea of being left alone for two days made his skin crawl. Anyone could walk in.

Anyone, like his old master. Elliot shuddered.

Lakeview it was.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda @loserwithsyle

[seth-whumps]

I MADE A WHUMP EVENT: get ready for July folks

welcome to the Whumperless Whump Event of July! for your sickfic, situational, and completely apersonal whump needs--comfort included, of course. follow @whumperless-whump-event for more information and details!

Image transcripts, tagging rules, and guidelines under the cut!

RULES

Any and all art types allowed (GIFs, drawings, music, writing, etc.)

No AI generated content allowed

OCs and Fandom works alike are welcome :)

Trigger and content tags required, even if the prompt explicitly requires the content (eg. Vomiting still needs the emetophobia tag)

NSFT and NSFW are allowed, if tagged appropriately. This blog will not reblog them, as minors do follow it. However, you're still free to write as you please :)

If enough interest is shown, I will make an Ao3 collection (edit: ao3 collection is made and can be found here)

Side note: please let me know if there's anything I can do to make this post or event more accessible. Should I put the image transcripts on the ID too? Is the formatting causing issues? What can I do?

This is not a contest, just an event. The only awards will be announcements for people who completed the whole darn thing. My entries will not receive any announcements or awards, because I'm hosting

TAGGING

Tag with, per example: #whumperless whump event day 1; #whumperless whump event; and (optional) #whumperless whump event day 1: alcohol as a sanitizer

Tag @whumperless-whump-event please! If not, I may not see it or be able to reblog it!

If desired, tag the medium you used

Trigger tag and content warn (including nsfw/nsft)

If posting early, tag with #wwe early entry. If posting late, tag with #wwe late entry. If posting just for fun, no need to tag these!

IMPORTANT:

There are NO OTHER RULES. Do one prompt! Do seven! Do 'em all! Repeat the same prompt six days in a row! Switch them around and do them all out of order! Post them eight months after the event is over! Finish the prompt list early! Write one long-ass story that deals with every prompt or do a one-sentence drabble for each one! Recommend your favorite scenes regarding the prompt! Write, draw, sing, play music, make playlists, do fic recs or show recs or episode recs or book recs, fucking crochet or something! FOLLOW THE VIBE. DO WHAT'S FUN.

Prompts (text):

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

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?”

It's every day bro: Chronic pain / Massage / “I'm used to it.”

Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / Light-headed / “I'll count, you just breathe.”

Summer is a curse: Heat Stroke / Panting / “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

Accidental Cryotherapy: Falling through a frozen lake / Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.”

Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?”

Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / Workplace emergency / “...sit down, I'm calling HR.”

A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.”

It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.”

It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.”

I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.”

Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / Delirious / “You would never say that in your right mind…”

In hot water: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / “We have to get that number down somehow.”

I don't see it: Hallucinations / Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.”

The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?”

It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.”

Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.”

Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / Vomiting / “I got your hair, it's fine.”

Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / Allergic reaction / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?”

Be one with the fish: Drowning / Rescue Breaths / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!”

We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / Running into flames / “I know it hurts. Breathe.”

That's no barn spider: Venomous bite / Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.”

What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.”

Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / Force feeding / “It's just me, go back to sleep.”

Wrong place, wrong time: Robbery / One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.”

I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--”

Only way out is through: Tunnel collapse / Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.”

ALTERNATES:

Seizure

Choking

Withdrawal

Mugged

Wild animal attack

Hangover

Strain/sprain

Broken bone

Bloody nose

Panic attack

[dandylovesturtles]

Decided to write a quick little something for @whumperless-whump-event Day 4: chronic pain/"I'm used to it."

featuring, of course, Sidelined Leo!

like I said before, since it's disability pride month I'd like to do a few things for the Sidelined AU, so hopefully I will find time for more as the days go. For now, I hope you enjoy this!

-----

Leo can tell it's going to be a bad day the moment he wakes up.

The pain in his arms and legs has grown from it's constant dull thrum to a more present burn, and there's a pinch between his eyes that tells him a headache is on the way. Really, he's not surprised; the last few days have been really good. He even went out on a mission two days ago, and did a little skateboarding yesterday. It stands to reason that his body has crashed out on him.

Sometimes he feels angry and bitter about it. Today, he just feels a sort of resigned acceptance. And that means maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

He hits the button on the side of the bed so it bends him into a reclined position, then fumbles around on his side table until his hand lands on his pill organizer. He should probably text someone to bring him water, but it feels like a pain, so he dry swallows them one by one and just resolves not to mention doing that to Dad or Raph.

Then he finally blinks the sleep out of his eyes and looks around his room and... darn it, his chair isn't here. Where'd he even leave it...

His memory is a complete blank on that one, so he sighs and clears his throat.

"Hey, Shell-man?"

There's only a second of silence before Shelldon's voice echoes from who even knows where. Donnie rigged his new room with more electronics than Leo will ever know about.

"S'up bro?"

"You know where my chair is?" he asks, like Shelldon can't track it instantly.

"You left it in the arcade, dude," comes the answer. "Want me to wheel it over?"

Yeah, no way he's getting himself to the arcade today. "Sure, thanks, Shelly."

"No problem, dude!"

Leo lets his head flop back on his pillows while he wants for his chair to be delivered. He fumbles around for his phone this time and takes a look at his reminders.

6:00 PM: Concert with Mikester

"Crap," he mutters, closing his eyes. Right, that yokai hip-hop group Mikey wanted to go see. Leo had promised he'd go with him, but he doubts he'll be able to do it now.

It's not that big a deal. Raph or Donnie will probably go with him if Mikey makes big enough puppy eyes at them. It's just, Leo had been kinda excited about it, too...

The dark buzz that heralds his anxiety flares up, and he sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slow. He doesn't want this day to turn terrible. He needs to relax and accept the things he can't change, like April always says. Even when it sucks.

There's a whir of electronics that signals the arrival of his chair. Leo waits until it parks itself next to his bed, then he swings his legs over the bed and stands up just long enough to sit down in the chair again. Even that leaves him feeling a little winded, but he doubts his arms could have handled the transfer so he doesn't bother trying.

He wheels around his room until he finds his big comfy unicorn hoodie, then drives out into the rest of the lair, making his way up the ramp to the kitchen. He can smell breakfast cooking, and hear Raph's voice.

"Morning fam," he says as he comes in, trying to keep his voice upbeat even though he already feels tired.

"Morning Leo!" Mikey echoes, turning around with a whole plate of waffles. His smile falters a little when he sees the chair and the hoodie. "Oof. Flare up?"

"Yeah," he admits, steering his chair into the empty part of the kitchen table. Mikey sets the waffle plate down, and without having to be asked Raph starts fixing some for Leo, with blueberries on top.

It took work for them both to find the line between helping and babying, but they're better at this now. Leo doesn't mind Raph helping him out this way, especially because he'd rather not make a mess of the kitchen table.

"Mikey, can you grab my fat fork?"

"It has a name," says a tired voice behind him, and Leo smirks as Donnie comes around the side and makes for the coffee machine.

"I just used it. It's the fat fork."

"It's a GeniusBuilt Secure Grip Adjustable Fork-"

"I'm not saying all that."

Donnie huffs. Mikey snickers, swinging around him to deliver the fork with the thick grip to Leo. He has another set with a loop that can secure to his hand if he needs it, but this one is fine for now.

"Here!

"Thanks Angelo."

"Did you take your meds this morning?" Raph asks.

"Yes, Mom," says Leo, rolling his eyes as he cuts off a bite of waffle.

"Really? 'Cause Raph didn't hear you ask anyone to bring you water-"

"I had some leftover Gatorade in my room," Leo lies quickly.

"Uh-huh." Raph looks at him skeptically. "Leo, you know taking pills without water hurts your throat."

"Meh meh meh, you'll hurt your throat," Leo repeats in a mocking voice. Raph reaches over like he's going to cuff Leo on the head, then seems to rethink it and steals some of his blueberries instead. "Hey!"

"You are all so noisy already," comes Splinter's voice, and he finally comes into the room to join them, wearing the robe he slept in. He looks up at Leo in his chair. "Are you in pain, Blue?"

Leo hums an affirmative. "It's not that bad, though," he adds, because it's not. Comparatively.

Now it's his dad's turn to look skeptical. "Are you sure?"

Leo grimaces. "It's... a little worse than normal," he amends. "But I can handle it."

"Mmm..." Splinter walks off to get in his own seat. "Let us know if it gets worse."

"Yeah, yeah..."

The conversation moves on to other topics, up until Leo's wheelchair beeps at him. He groans, glancing down at the battery indicator, which is firmly in the red.

"You forgot to charge it, didn't you?" asks Donnie, looking amused.

"Shut up, I've been busy!" Leo snaps back.

"If you left it on the charger when you aren't using it then this wouldn't happen."

"Alright, anyone else have any criticisms for me today?" he says, except it comes out a shade too bitter and Donnie's grin falters.

Good job, Leon, way to be a dick. He winces, focusing again on his waffles. His arm is sore from the effort of eating and he wants to crawl back in bed and stay there, which is exactly the sort of attitude he's been trying to avoid.

"...I have the backup chair in the lab if you need it," says Donnie. A peace offering.

"Thanks," says Leo, returning it.

So after breakfast, Donnie helps him swap chairs. His main one is put on the charger and he wheels himself to the living room with the backup, then calls for Raph.

"Think you can help me get comfy, big guy?" he asks.

"Of course," says Raph with a grin. "What do you want?"

It's nice that he asks now, instead of assuming.

Leo directs him to help him onto the couch, then Raph gets him his fluffy blue blanket to cover him up. Even though he took his meds, he can feel the pain radiating at his hips and knees and he guesses he's going to need more later. He sets an alarm on his phone and settles in with a Jupiter Jim flick to fall asleep to.

He's not out yet when he hears the pad of feet, then feels the couch dip as Mikey sits next to him.

"Hey Leo," he says softly, and Leo gives a hum to let him know he's still awake. "You think... you're gonna feel up for the concert tonight?"

Oh right. Shoot. It had already slipped Leo's mind, and now he feels guilty all over again.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head so he can see Mikey. "I don't think so. I'm sorry."

"You don't gotta apologize!" says Mikey quickly. "I'm sorry you're having a rough day."

"It's fine," says Leo. "I'm used to it."

"I'm still sorry," says Mikey firmly. He gets up, then comes over so he can give Leo a very awkward couch hug. "I wish you didn't have to hurt," he says, sincerely.

Leo leans into the hug. Feels the dark buzz of anxiety ebb away.

"Hey, it's alright. All you guys make it easier."

Mikey beams at that, bouncing back up. "Hey, I know," he says. "I'll get Donnie to help me set up a sweet livestream so you can see the concert from right here!"

They don't have to go to all that trouble for him. But Leo looks up at his little brother's shining smile and can't say no.

"That'd be really cool," he says, and Mikey claps his hands.

"Yes! Okay, I'll go get Dee and we'll get on it!"

He races away. Leo chuckles, curling up under his blanket.

Maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

[antimony-medusa]

Okay so, the thing about Boundaries, and why people keep bringing them up over and over again to creators, is I think there's a bit of a desire for what people are doing here to not be weird. Cause like, the creator signed off on it, so like, I'm fine and you can't make fun of me or get mad at me.

And like, I understand the desire to not be made fun of or have people get mad at you, believe me, I know, but I think we have all just gotta accept that what we're doing is— it's a little weird, bro.

Like by definition what fandom is is getting a little too much into your thing. Fan comes from Fanatic. We all saw some block men and we went way too hard with it. And I think that sufficiently viewed from the outside, there is just no way to do any kind of transformational creation and it not be weird to the wrong people.

Like, taking a character and making them miserable? One of the honourable fandom traditions, whether you're whumping them or if you go hard into comfort at the end. For someone entirely outside of fandom, that's just like why are you DOING that, bro, and when you add in the fact that we're using people's real names (well, gamer tags), there's no way for that not to be odd. "The creator said it was okay" is not going to make people go ??? any less. (Let me emphasize that this is fine, it's just like, also, you bring that up on the bus and peope go ????)

Let's look at fluff. You want to write about your characters in a coffee shop au? You want to write about your characters in a cuddly family dynamic, taking care of each other? You want to age down characters and write kid fic where they learn to face the challenges of the world and it's just so cute and you love them so much even if nothing really bad happens? I promise you that my non-fandom parents are gonna be like "why are you spending your time on that" and again, if you throw in the "is this real people" (it isn't, but that is a delicate thing to explain), you're looking at people staring at you in discomprehension and backing away.

Shippy stuff. Again, one of the honourable fandom traditions. You just love your guys and you want to write about how much they love each other (or maybe make it tragic about how only one person can make it out of the cactus ring). You spent all this time thinking about their feelings writing it out. You write out a kiss scene. It makes you flail happily. Most people don't do that! Absolutely fun to do? Yes! Something you can bring up as an ice breaker at the company potluck? Probably not! We are too much into the characters, and that's fine, but it's still gonna look a bit odd from the outside!

Plotty gen. You're writing an entire new story, but you're taking existing characters for it? Like it's original fiction, but you're using existing characters? Why not just write original fiction <I have had this conversation. Oh, you're writing a story about minecraft characters, and they— they get tortured? Like it starts with them being tortured? <also a fun conversation to be in.

I'm mostly thinking about this from the fanfiction side, but art, meta— we are just getting into things way too much. We're spending hours on this stuff. We drew the creators minecraft sonas in maid dresses. There are millions of words of fiction on the archive about every conceivable universe of good/bad things happeing to the characters. It is a primary hobby, where I could be learning piano or paying attention to sports. And I'm not, and like, that's fine.

I am here to tell you that people absolutely might find what we're doing weird, and also it's entirely fine. I just ran a poll about the sexiest minecraft character that got 68k votes on the most voted poll. And then I had to explain that to my doctor to explain why I didn't really have a normal baseline for the past week to compare to. (Doctor visibly thought it was weird but he was also like "you go" because he's a good doctor, but I had to start with explaining minecraft because he knew NOTHING about what I was talking about.) You just gotta accept that fandom is for a small segment of the population, we are all having fun with ourselves, and it's for us, it's not for the general population, and stop trying to make it palatable to people who don't care to understand. People on this site keep saying "racist white boys" and then they don't have the intellectual curiosity to pursue further as to why maybe that's not true, having a boundaries post is not going to make them nicer. It's fine. They're being jerks, we're just having fun.

And like, stop trying to get the creator to sign off on it. Accept that sometimes we're being weird and they can look at it if they want to see the weird fanatics going too hard with the characters. They will tell us if we're doing something they want to stop associating with their name, and up until that point, just accept that what we're doing is weird, and have fun with it.

We're weird.

Be more weird 2k23.

Have fun with it.

I wrote a time travel AU in DMs with a friend last night about a bird man and a minecraft piglin. Not normal. It's FINE.

[truebluemenace]

I don't normally write angst/whump/hurt no comfort like this but the idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Tails has a bad time in this. Sorry

1.8k words

All things considered, it didn’t take them that long to find Tails. There had been a time, admittedly before the two of them had any other friends, when Eggman had kidnapped Tails for days. It had taken Sonic a long time to even track the man down, let alone break into his base and rescue his friend.

Things were different now. Sonic was stronger. He had friends to back him up.

Sure, maybe the idea of kidnappings was a little more concerning now than it had been before Sonic’s six month… vacation. But what had happened then wouldn’t be repeated.

Especially not with Tails.

He had only been missing for a few hours when they found him. Or, more accurately, Sonic found him. Once he, Knuckles, and Amy had breached Eggman’s base, his friends let him rush off to find Tails without question. They’d stay behind and cover for him if any badniks tried to impede the rescue, but they knew how anxious Sonic was to get to Tails. Trying to keep him from getting there first would not spell out good results for anyone.

The cells were easy to find. Eggman usually built at least one or two into any new bases he developed, and it was simple to locate them if you were familiar with Eggman’s architectural style. They were normally underground and close to the center of the base. All Sonic had to do was find an elevator deep enough in and, sure enough, the cells were just outside of the doors when they opened.

The smell of blood and medical supplies hit his nostrils, and his heart started hammering.

“Tails?” he called out; the closest cell was empty, so he had to move past it to an adjacent one before he was able to catch sight of the fox.

He couldn’t prevent a gasp from escaping at what he saw, eyes going wide as he immediately plucked a quill from his head, plunging it into the lock on the cell with a significant amount of urgency.

Tails was lying in the corner, curled into a ball, trembling. Sonic couldn’t see what the cause was from outside the cell with the way Tails was lying, but he’d also caught the sight of white bandages with splotches of red soaking through.

“Tails, it’s me, I’m gonna get you out,” Sonic spoke as he fussed with the lock. Lock picking was not his specialty, and his inefficiency made his stress increase. He let out a frustrated grunt, kicking the bottom of the door as he kept fiddling with the detached quill in the lock.

The little pile of golden fur began to shift, unrolling from the ball he’d been in to look up. “S-Sonic?”

Tension drained from Sonic’s body at the sound of that voice. If Tails was conscious, everything was so much better than it would be otherwise. “Yeah, bud, it’s me.” He took a moment to pause his lock picking to look over at his little bro, and sucked in a gasp, almost wishing he hadn’t.

There was a haunted look in Tails’ eyes. It was like a shadow had fallen over them, despite the almost too-bright lighting in the cell. He didn’t seem entirely present, either, as if he was in a kind of daze. Any relief Sonic had felt evaporated in an instant. His little bro should not look like that. He dropped his focus back down to his task.

“Just hang on for a minute, I’ve almost got this open…”

“Use two quills.”

Sonic looked back at Tails again. “Huh?”

“Use two quills,” Tails repeated, now starting to shuffle around into a sitting position, back against the cell wall. It let Sonic see that the bandages were wrapped around Tails’ hips, but he couldn’t see more than that. “One to put tension on the lock and the other to move the pins.”

Sonic snapped his fingers. “Thanks, bud! I knew I was forgetting something.” He plucked another quill from his head and got back to work on the lock, noting that Tails didn’t perk up at his lighter tone like he’d hoped. Something was definitely wrong.

The first pin popped into place. Tails would be out soon. “What did Eggman do? How badly are you hurt?” he asked as he kept working away at the lock.

He didn’t expect Tails to whimper. The sound made him freeze. “Tails, bud--” He cut himself off when Tails whimpered again. The kid flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. Okay, this wasn’t good. Sonic focused his full attention on the lock.

After a few more clicks, he was able to turn it and open the door. Immediately he rushed to Tails’ side.

He wasn’t prepared for Tails to cower away from him.

“Hey, buddy, it’s just me,” Sonic said carefully, kneeling down on the floor next to him and holding his hands out. “Whatever Eggman did is over now. I’m getting you out of here.”

Tails shook his head, still not looking up at Sonic, still squeezing his eyes shut.

“At the very least I need to know how hurt you are,” Sonic tried to reason, reaching out a hand. “Can I see—”

“DON’T!”

Not expecting such an outburst, Sonic jumped, startled. Tails’ eyes had flown open and he, somehow, pressed himself further into the corner where he was sitting.

This was not going well.

“Tails, I need—” He cut himself off again when Tails flinched at the sound of his name. Was… was there something wrong with the name? Every once in a while, Sonic would ask his brother if the nickname was still okay, to make sure it wasn’t bringing up bad memories unnecessarily. Every time, Tails insisted that he liked the name, that it was better than “Miles”. But maybe Eggman had done something to change that opinion?

His eyes drifted down to the bandages around Tails’ waist. They were wrapped loosely around the front of his body, in a way that suggested they were simply holding in place the more important bandages on the other side. Tails’ back. Or, more accurately…

“He did something to your tails.” It wasn’t a question. The fox kit was positioned in a way that hid his tails from view. Now that Sonic had put the pieces together, it was obvious.

The whine that Tails let out was enough confirmation he was right.

“C’mon, bud, let me see,” Sonic tried to coax gently, unsurprised when Tails shook his head immediately. He forced himself not to sigh. He understood Tails’ sensitivity about his tails, but in situations like this, it could be a problem. He had to change tactics. “Alright, I don’t have to see right now. But are you too hurt to walk? I need to know if I have to carry you out of here or not.”

Tails just shook his head again.

“No? No what? No, you can’t walk? No, you don’t need to be carried?”

Tails didn’t answer, just sniffled.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Tails was just a kid. With how insanely intelligent he was, and how easily he kept up and fit in with his older friends, it wasn’t always obvious just how young he was. But Sonic knew better than anyone that he was just a child still. And on occasion, in rare situations like this one, he had to be treated like the age he was, and not the age he acted.

“Kid, can you look at me?” No reaction. “C’mon, just for a second?”

Two baby blue eyes opened slowly and met Sonic’s. There were emotions there that he couldn’t read, and that scared him. Sonic knew Tails better than anyone else on the planet; it was rare that he wasn’t able to read him flawlessly at this point.

“I’m still not sure what Eggman did to you, but it was bad, wasn’t it?”

Hesitation, then Tails nodded. Gaia, he looked absolutely miserable. Sonic was about ready to track Eggman down and make him pay, but Tails needed him right now. He had to hope that Amy and Knuckles were giving him a bad time for him.

“I’m not sure if you’re more hurt or more scared, but it’s okay to be feeling those things,” Sonic continued. He wasn’t sure if he was getting through to Tails, but he hoped he was. “You’re gonna be okay though. Whatever happened, it’ll be much better once we get out of here, but that means we actually have to get out first. Which is why I need to know if I have to carry you or not.”

Tails held his gaze in silence for a few seconds, biting at his lower lip. Then he turned his head away. The arms wrapped around his torso tightened. “It’s not gonna get better.”

Oh, Sonic’s heart could break at that. What the hell did Eggman do to his little brother in such a short amount of time to break his spirit like this? “Yeah it will, li’l bro, you’ll see—”

“No it won’t!” Tails didn’t yell as loudly this time, but it still startled Sonic. “You can’t say that, you don’t even… you don’t know what he…” The kid’s breathing started to accelerate, the signs of panic evident. Sonic was completely messing this up.

“Tails,” he said, wincing as he caught the flinch at the name again. “Please just let me help you get out of here. Whatever happened, we can find a way to fix it once we’re safe.”

Tails shook his head again. “It can’t be fixed,” he insisted, voice wavering.

“I doubt that’s true—”

“It can’t. It can’t.”

“Bud—”

“He took it.”

Sonic froze. “...What?”

Tails sniffled. “It’s… he…”

Realization dawned on Sonic like a bucket of ice water being poured over him. He pleaded to every god out there that what he was putting together was wrong.

“Your tails…” Sonic said, feeling like he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, Tails lunged forward and wrapped his arms tight around Sonic, burying his face in Sonic’s chest and letting out a wail. His entire body was shuddering with the force of his sobbing, the wetness of his tears soaking through Sonic’s fur in only a few seconds.

He wrapped his arms tight around his little brother, rubbing his back in a way that he hoped was soothing, gently shushing him and instructing him to breathe. But Sonic felt like he might need someone to console him, too, because he now had a clear look at what had happened.

At the base of Tails’ spine, there were bandages with just enough blood soaking through to be of note. They would have to be changed as soon as they could.

Because where there should be two tails, now sat only one.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

trips and falls flat on my face BABY HOWL SIBLINGS MY BELOVEDDDDSFDD TEEHEHE))

''Hi guys! Do you think I can come with you? I heard from your big bro that you two are very skilled in snow sports. Where I come from there's no snow at all so I'm very unfamiliar with these kinds of winter activities. I would love to see and participate a bit in them if you don't mind!'' (but bear with me, I'll be a disaster.)

(Turns to the little sister.) ''As much as you're adorable now, I'm sure you will grow up to be a beautiful, powerful wolf beastwoman. Maybe even stronger and taller than your big bro, who knows? Teehe.''

NRC Family Day was originally conceived as a blog event to celebrate Mother/Father's Day, which usually takes place in late spring to early summer! But just for this interaction, let's pretend Family Day's in winter ;p

I made Jack's brother kind of a jerk because Jack describes him as someone who always mouths off to him ��� whereas I wrote his sister as more of a sympathetic girl that's frustrated with her brothers leaving her out because of her youth. Again, tried to work with what little canon we have to write them!

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

WHUMP!!

In your mad dash to nonchalantly approach the two young Howl siblings, you slipped on the ice that coated the street and fell forward, faceplanting in snow. Concern shouts and frantic footsteps followed, the children approaching.

"Are you okay?" Jack’s sister asked. Her voice was close—she was likely crouched down to check on you.

“Of course they aren’t,” his brother grumbled. He was more distant—standing. “Humans don’t have fur like we do. They’re probably freezing their butt off.”

“No, I’m better than okay! I’m great,” you insisted, lifting your snow-encrusted face from the ground. In spite of the unceremonious fall, your eyes were sparkling, your entire face warm with enthusiasm. "Actually, you think I can come with you guys? I heard from your big bro that you two are very skilled in snow sports. Where I come from there's no snow at all so I'm very unfamiliar with these kinds of winter activities. I would love to see and participate a bit in them if you don't mind--but bear with me, I'll be a disaster."

The Howls exchanged confused looks with one another.

"There's really such a thing as places that never have snow...?" the sister wondered, her nose crinkling. You saw bits of Jack in that expression--the fluff to her brows when they pushed together, resulting in appearing unintentionally fierce. "You're built different."

"Well, they handled a face full of snow just fine, so what the heck--let's let'm join us," the brother sighed. "We could do with the extra manpower."

"Yay!" You cheered, springing to your feet. "What's the game, captain?"

"Snowball fight. You ever heard of it?" Jack’s brother pointed to the imprint you had left on the ground. "Make balls with snow, then chuck it at your enemies. It's as simple as that."

"Enemies? You make it sound like a blood sport," you joked.

"It's serious business!! Only the manliest of men rise victorious,” the wolf boy insisted. “Today’s the day we’re finally gonna beat Jack aniki!!”

"He's being competitive again," Jack's sister said with a roll of her eyes. "He always is!"

"Maybe I wouldn't have to be if you did your part," he grumbled back, bending to pack together some snow.

Her fur bristled with annoyance. She stomped her foot and pouted, crossing her arms. "I've been helping!! But if you run off, how am I supposed to know where you went? You don't even wait for me."

Your ears piqued. “Hey now, it's not cool for your brother to do that to you.”

You knelt to meet the girl at her level, resting a hand upon her head. Her hair was softer than freshly fallen snow, and stuck up from between your fingers. Through damp eyes, she stared up at you curiously.

''As much as you're adorable now, I'm sure you will grow up to be a beautiful, powerful wolf beastwoman! Maybe even stronger and taller than your big bro, who knows?” You grinned impishly, tone warm and reassuring. "Then you can show both of your brothers what for!"

“E-Eh, you think so?” The girl’s face heated, her wolf ears flattening shyly.

“Yeah, for real!” You nudged her on the arm, then offered your hand. “Come on, let’s show your big bros what you’re made of.”

Jack’s sister perked a bit at your offer, slipping her hand into your own. Her tail, too, stood up, wagging happily in spite of her stoicism.

“Th-Thanks,” she started to mutter—then stopped, her muscles stiffening. Her brother, too, had gone quiet and still, a half-formed snowball in his palms.

Every strand of fur and hair on them stood on end, as if frozen in place by the frigid weather. Their ears twitched, sensing something shuffling closer and closer.

Suddenly, the Howl siblings violently tore away. Jack’s sister broke her hold on you as she barreled into a nearby bush, the brother abandoning his snowballs join her.

“G-Guys?! Where are you go…”

SPLAT!!

Something cold and wet collided with your face. Ice. White. They exploded across your vision, caking your lashes in a healthy layer of snow.

The force of the hit sent you stumbling back, your bottom meeting the frosted road. Pieces of the blue-grey sky above peered through the snow nestled upon your skin.

Your arms blindly extended before you, wildly grasping for the world, for something tangible. You found solace in the snow pooling around you, letting your fingers sink deeply into it.

Footsteps came, heavy like a blizzard but as brisk as a winter chill. Definitely not the same footsteps of the far smaller Howl siblings.

There was a huff, and a puff, and a voice low and gruff hit you. Not breathy from exhaustion, but with concern. You automatically recognized who it was.

"Oi, you good? Didn't mean for that snowball to hit you like that, sorry," Jack apologized--a little blunt, perhaps, but entirely earnest. "I was aiming for my kid sister, and... uh, looks like you got caught in the crossfire."

You spat out a chunk of ice in response.

Through a crack in your mask of snow, you could make out Jack flinching, guilt in his golden eyes. He was usually so tough and standoffish--now he resembled little more than a puppy whimpering after being chided for having an accident on the rug. A rare moment of vulnerability for him.

"Do you need to see Professor Crewel?" Jack asked, kneeling before you. With one hand, he wiped snow off of you, and, little by little, your vision was restored.

“Oh, thanks.” You smiled sweetly at him. “I’ve got a good look at you now.”

"Wha..."

SPLAT, SPLAT!

Fisting as much snow as you could in both hands, you threw your clumsily crafted snowballs at Jack. He fell back in an effort to avoid them—but he was too close, and caught off guard. His face caught the projectiles, turning the same fuzzy, silvery white as his hair.

Blink, blink.

His golden gaze shone through the snow, staring into the depths of your soul. Wide, and vaguely amused.

"Did you just...?!"

SPLAT, SPLAT, SPLAT, SPLAT!!

Jack yelped and buckled forward, pelted by a barrage of snowballs from behind. In the confusion, you sprung up, scrambling off the main street and ducking behind a tree trunk. Protected from the incoming fire, you dared to peer back at the chaotic scene.

Jack had gone from wolf to abominable snowman, covered head-to-toe in snow like a new coat of fur. He directed a glare and a growl over his shoulder. The Howl siblings had emerged from their hiding place, excitedly squealing as they high-fived each other.

"Hah! Did you see that? We totally got you!" his brother jeered smugly. "Good going, decoy!"

"Grrrr..."

Jack expertly shook off the cold like a dog drying itself of rainwater. He was left with clumps of wet hair and fur sticking up and out. His grumpy frown was indignant, like that of a pet forcibly bathed--and one that had struggled every step of the way.

You giggled at the thought. When Jack whipped his head in your direction, you were quick to conceal your mouth behind a hand, hoping he hadn't seen.

"That's how it's gonna be, huh... Alright,. I'll take you all on, 3 on 1!" Jack declared with a rebellious grin. "It's time to get serious."

Crouching, he scooped up massive mounds of snow in both arms, roughly shaping them into one massive sphere. Jack easily lifted the giant snowball over his head, casting a foreboding shadow over him--and you and the Howl siblings alike.

"H-Hold on a second," you clumsily stammered, "isn't that going kinda overboard...?!"

"Eeek, run awayyy!" Jack sister squeaked, hurriedly tugging on your arm. (His brother was already making a break for it.)

A visibly sinister glint dancing now danced in Jack's eyes. Something there that wasn't there before. His laughter rumbled softly, warning of a coming storm.

"Ready or not, here comes the big, bad wolf!"

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Listen, to be honest, I’m still trying to figure out how to go about writing this, but what are your thoughts on Rockstar Stan getting hurt on stage (ie tripping on a wire and spraining/breaking something, maybe a few little cuts and bruises here and there from the fall) and Kyle just PANICKING while Stan’s just, “Babe. Ky- Honey, HONEY- MY LOVE- DARLING- I’M OKAY- PLEASE DON’T CRY, PLE-“. I just really love protective Kyle and hurt Stan so much but I wanted to see the thoughts of one of my favorite Style writers ever

Oh my fucking GODDDDDDD!!!!!!! Bro you know damn well I’m here for it!!!! Protective Kyle, Stan trying to calm his hotheaded partner down while in pain, Kyle all “WHO DIDNT TAPE THAT CORD DOWN IM KICKING SOMEONES ASS” absolutely phenomenal.

And we all know how much I love hurt Stan, and ROCKSTAR STAN!!!!! That’s Nina’s fault ofc we were just talking about Raven of Crimson Dawn in the chat and I. FUCKING. LIVE. for performance accidents with rockstar Stan. The potential, the drama, him taking to social media afterwards even though he hates using social media to assure his fans that he’s okay, just AAAAAAA!!!!!

I saw a headcanon a while back about celebrity characters performing while sick and pushing through the show only to collapse as soon as they were in the wings and immediately sent it to Neen bc my whump lovin ass thought of RavenStan lmfao. But y’all know I’m more of an injury girlie in general and goddamnit the idea of rockstar Stan hurting himself on stage is going on the whumpshot idea list now lmfao. Not like I haven’t thought of it before (I have problems).

I had a oneshot with fallen from grace former band frontman Stan and former band manager Kyle reconciling, The One Habit I Just Can’t Kick, and I had a rockstar Stan in Watch As I Dive In, but that’s a side of the Stan headcanons I really need to get in to more! Especially with the *potential* of public accidents, like DAMN!!! A platform he missteps off of and messes up his leg. Trying to do a backflip during the bass drop and dislocating his shoulder. Tripping and landing on his guitar and smashing it getting whacked in the face with a string. THE POSSIBILITIES MAN!!!

[lunarleonardo]

Someone might’ve already asked this but how do you come up with your fic ideas? A lot of them I’ve never seen before like Love Letter and Motive 5 while others do a unique spin on other things that are more common like Impermanent Attatchment and Fever Frost that make them stand out so much

HOW DO YOU MANAGE THIS

It's sort of a mix of a lot of things ^^" video games, books, shows, music, memes, art ... pretty much anything. For example, M5DP came to be because I replayed Your Turn To Die and got inspired.

I daydream a LOT, so whenever I have an idea, I slam it down into my notes and return to it later. I have a starting note for a lot of my fics actually! (I don't have any for blue eyes shadow of a dead bro though :{ )

(name blurred out for privacy reasons but that is me)

Love Letter came from a huge burst of inspiration at my dads house. I remembered I was writing for myself alone so I just decided to be deranged xD I have a wheel of whump tropes so I gave that a few spins and oh! look! it's love letter

Danganronpa is my current hyperfixation, and Shuichi is my favorite character. So more often than not, no matter how nonsensical or far-removed from the DR plot it becomes, I will almost always insert him into whatever I'm doing. So whatever I'm doing at any moment will automatically become inspiration for an AU. I'm thinking so much all the time that it's kind of hard to just,, not come up with ideas QwQ I have so many ideas that happen in nondespair or post-killing game aus, so in all honesty ?? What I've posted isnt even brushing the tip of the iceberg of what I can come up with. Whether I'll find the courage to post those,, we'll see. i am constantly terrified of public opinion and anything i see as even mildly negative will Ruin my day. I'm a little sensitive lol (⁠＠⁠_⁠＠⁠;⁠)

anyways I also get inspiration from my dreams! When I dream, I often play as Shuichi, so I get put into the Scenarios. I feel like that alone should tell you how much I never stop thinking of this guy (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

Its midnight rn and i forgot what i was talking about so i'll finish it here (⁠─⁠.⁠─⁠|⁠|⁠） tl;dr inspiration comes from anywhere and everywhere. Don't be afraid to think and don't be afraid to be self indulgent. also i love danganronpa and its characters so of course im going to be insane over them. I remember my first time being trapped in a school forced to slaughter my classmates to get out (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿◡⁠`⁠)

anyways im falling asleep sitting here sooo. goodnight! :p

[soapy-soartp]

Day 4 of @whumperless-whump-event

Day: 4 - IT'S EVERY DAY BRO

Prompt: Chronic pain / Massage / "I'm used to it." - Lan Zhan’s old injuries acting up, his husband offers him a message

Fandom: MDZS

Characters: Wie Ying/Lan Zhan

Sometimes, when he thinks back he remembers. How much he wanted it all to stop, to end.

The pain was too much and if he just… let go it, it would all end too. It would've been all too easy to let go, to let himself fester and rot. He regrets so much… he failed him.

But…

He is still here and he can't just do nothing while the world continues to be a place that hunted and killed his zhiji. And he’ll have to care for A-yuan, and the rest of Gusu Lan’s junior disciples; they're struggling enough as is because of the war.

So here Hanguang Jun sits, as the chief cultivator sitting at his writing desk. Posture perfect and movements elegant as he reads, signs, and writes all kinds of important documents and letters.

Overlooking a complaint here, approving a proposal there, asking for a suitable setting for an event… and much much more work.

Lan Wangji may like his peace and quiet but the piled up paperwork has gotten so bad that he’s had to spend days trying to clear everything. It’s gotten him extremely restless, annoyed, and just tired of reading and writing and signing.

He’d like to go join his husband and the juniors on one of the many night hunts they've been embarking on. Besides Wei Ying has been gone for half a week and all this sitting up with little to no movement is making his body ache.

Though the mundanity of paper work and the pain in his body is momentarily forgotten when a pair of arms wrap around him from behind.

“Lan Er Gege! Your A-Ying is back!” Was said in lieu of a proper greeting yet the voice of the other was enough to make him smile and put down his brush.

The hold his Wei Ying has on him is comforting and grounding, so really who can blame him if he decided to shift ever so closer and let himself slump just slightly, letting go of his perfect posture, against the one holding him.

Lan Wangji lets out a soft sigh of relief feeling the solid body againsts him and holding the arms that wrap around his torso is very relaxing after all those hours of sitting and paperwork. Still despite the relaxed atmosphere he vaguely hears Wei Ying make a discontented noise while nuzzling at the back of his neck.

“Lan Zhaaann~” His husband whines into his ear, “I thought we agreed that you’d take breaks when you were doing paperwork like this. Sitting still for so long isn't good for you!”

“Used to it…”

“Hmph, well that's why I’m here! To help remind my husband to take breaks!”

“Mn.” He looks away, only the tiniest bit embarrassed and guilt.

He didn’t want to just do nothing while Wei Ying was away but he’s been feeling the pain of his body much more than usual. So he wasn't able to accompany them on their night hunt, adding to that the growing amount of paperwork and well what he had to do seemed clear.

“Well I think Hanguang Jun is required to take a break now, for the rest of the day! It's the rules, remember?” Wei Ying says cheekily while pressing soft kisses into his husband's neck.

Said husband hums, content to allow Wei Ying rattle on about taking care of himself while being led to their bedroom, while they both slowly lose more layers until they are left sitting on their bed in just their inner robes.

Wei Ying is still sitting behind him like a warm, solid wall to lean on and he finds himself leaning into that wall more as his husband combs through his hair. He carefully removes the intricate styling and pins that held it together, easing the pressure Lan Zhan didn't even realize was building.

Then runs his hand through it all, after he places a kiss right in between Lan Zhan’s shoulder blades and asks him, “Do you want me to run you a hot bath?”

A slow shake of his head and a soft exhale, that almost sounded like a wince.

“Later, just want Wie Ying now.”

“Ah Lan Zhaann! Alright, how could I refuse such a request” Wei Ying replies cheerful but still mindful of his volume, “buuttt I still want to do something for my Lan Er Gege so… come here, lay on your stomach for me?”

He wordlessly obeys his husband's request. Wei Ying reaches over to one of their bedside tables to grab some oil and the bed dips as he shifts around to remove his own and Lan Zhan’s inner robes.

Once they're both bare he feels himself tense for a moment as he hears his husband’s quiet sad sigh and feel the featherlight touch glide over his scarred back.

“Wei Ying, not your fault.” He reassures quickly.

But his husband remains silent and the only noise heard within the room is a sigh and the opening of the oil container, then Wei Ying is carefully spreading the oil on his back and legs.

Then finally, “I know, A-Zhan, but it doesn't make me feel less bad about it…”

“Mn. Wei Ying’s here now, making it better.” He replied honestly.

“Aiya! Lan Zhan! Warn a man before you say such earnest and sweet things, this one cant take it!” Though still cheerfully said, the undercurrent of somber regret and hurt surrounding their past will always get through the cracks in these moments.

Then before he or his husband could get lost in the memories of the past, Wei Ying’s hands are on him and he can’t help the noise he makes. It makes his ears burn but it made his Wei Ying chuckle lightly so it was worth it.

Methodically his husband begins to knead into Lan Zhan’s sore and stiff muscles and soon enough he’s melting into the bed. His Wei Ying’s hands on him and his voice in his ear is enough for Lan Zhan to surrender completely to the calming and comforting presence of his zhiji.

When Wei Ying finishes kneading through and unknotting his husband’s sore muscles he finds his love peacefully asleep. He can't help but stare in awe, Lan Zhan’s always looked pretty but he’s prettier at this very moment; soft and relaxed and happy. The sight makes his heart swell.

Wei Ying yawns and pulls his husband close, spooning him as they sleep blissfully in eachother hold.

[mrmustachious]

For the fandom positivity asks… I’d love to know:

3. a character that fandom has helped you appreciate

7. your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

8. you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

Aah forgot these were in me inbox!

3. a character that fandom has helped you appreciate

I think I would have to say John. He used to be my least favourite of the bros but over the years he's moved up through the rankings. Now I really like him and I think he needs more appreciation. I certainly need to try and write him more in my fics. But I think I can thank the fandom for opening my eyes to his potential!

7. your favourite tropes to read/write/draw

WHUMP! Of course my most favourite trope is whump, along with hurt/comfort and angst. I also love found family (really anything to do with family <3), AUs and enemies to lovers

8. you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

I honestly would love more people to appreciate headcanons that clash with their own. Sometimes people in this fandom can get very set in their ways and aren't open to differing headcanons (I think everyone is guilty of this even me. If you say youre not youre lying). It would be good to see more different headcanons. This is mainly directed towards people being suspiciously quiet when we talk about queer headcanons (🤨👀) but I would also like to see more neurodivergent and disability headcanons too!

Obviously you can do what you want and I'm not gonna force you to adopt any headcanons you don't like. I would just like to implore people to open their minds a bit :)

[love your fandom ask game]

[lovefrombegonia]

THIS IS A HEADCANON:

I do not claim this to be canon at all. It's just a personal headcanon, bro. LOL

tw // references to childhood abuse, gore, torture

That Binghe vs Bingge extra did give me a PIDW scenario more bingge whump and qijiu angst:

Listen...I love badass, glorious, powerful cultivator Yue Qingyuan. I don't remember if it is canon or not if he is a serious threat to LBH and xin mo but I do like to think that he was the only cultivator capable of actually beating PIDW LBH, and LBH knew that. He knew YQY could rock his shit. He also hated YQY for enabling SQQ's gruesome abuse towards him. So, in his mind, YQY is like a corrupt, enabling sect leader who is also powerful enough to fight a pure-blooded heavenly demon like Tianlang jun while just being a disciple. He also knows that YQY, for some reason he decided isn't important to explore, really cares about SQQ. So, LBH decides to set a trap for YQY. He tears SQQ's legs off, tortures him into writing a letter, and decides 10,000 cursed arrows is enough to atleast seriously injure YQY, and then if he is somehow still alive, Xin Mo can take care of the rest.

Everything...goes as planned. ALmost. YQY rushes towards HHP to save SQQ in a maddening, suicidal rage. LBH cannot help but be a bit shocked at this vicious level of devotion this powerful, powerful sect leader has towards a scum like SQQ. He watches as YQY doesn't even really fight off all the arrows. It's like... it's like he really WANTS to be killed. It's like YQY is punishing himself. And yet, every tiny essence of life in YQY is trying its best to walk towards HHP. He will not stop until he dies. And...LBH can't help but laugh a little. A lot. Actually. 'This is the man you're willing to die for Sect Leader?!', LBH thinks, 'A scum who tortured his own disciples? A lecher who lusted after his own disciple? A filthy dog who killed how own shidi?? YOU WILL RIP YOURSELF APART FOR A WORTHLESS SCUM WHO NEVER EVEN RESPECTED YOU!! You're the dumbest human I have ever come across...'

He watches in awe as even pinned to the ground by several arrows, YQY is willing to tear him own flesh apart to try and move forward towards SQQ... One can't even recognise the esteemed CQMS leader anymore. He is two steps away from looking like a blob of flesh. As another round of hundreds of arrows rained on YQY, LBH watched the pathetic man turned to mush, and the magnificent Xuan Su vibrated wildly one last time before breaking into many pieces.

The sect leader was no more. LBH is a bit surprised at everything that just happened. His plan worked though. It's all that mattered. YQY was no longer a threat to him, and him empire. Now, he has to pay a visit to his shizun. He wanted to bring a piece of YQY's body to SQQ but the poisoned arrows had made sure nothing remained of him. Only the broken shards were left behind. He decided that Xuan Su would be a better "gift" anyways, after all, it was the symbol of YQY's might. The mighty that shielded SQQ for so long. It was the only thing that would matter to the scum, after all, SQQ did not really care about YQY. He insulted him every chance he got. With that thought, he went to the special prison. He couldn't wait to feel the rush of satisfaction as he imagines SQQ's face of horror.

'This...this is not...this is not right.', LBH thought as he watched SQQ's face froze in horror but...it's was a horror of different kind. 'He...should not be looking like that. Why is he looking like that!? Why is he...' and LBH couldn't clearly think for a moment. He was expecting SQQ to cry pathetically at a loss of a powerful backing. He wasn't expecting SQQ to have so many myriad of emotions...confusion, realization, shock, terror...guilt, sorrow...despair, HEARTBREAK, and then...madness. Submission. Submission of a man who has nothing to lose anymore. SQQ looked like... He was ready to die. No. No no no. This is not how it was supposed to be. NO!! SQQ SHOULD BE BEGGING FOR LBH TO SPARE HIM NOW! Crying and screaming instead of laughing hysterically like he was giving this mutilated piece of shit a funny stage show. “Luo Binghe, you’re a bastard, did you know that?”

He is still laughing. Still laughing but you can tell, Oh! You can tell that SQQ is in pain! LBH has ripped his left arm apart now and that pain is nothing compared to the agony that YQY's death has caused him. He is laughing, but his eyes already look dead, they look like they are already mourning! Already far away, only the body remains, trembling and seizing in pain to reach the departed soul.

“Luo Binghe, hahahaha…oh Luo Binghe, you…"

There is no satisfaction here. Because. Because... LBH looks on as he realises... This evil, abusive, traitorous, perverted scum of a man...was capable... Of love?? His shizun loved. He loved someone. SQQ...was capable of affection. Loving...truly loving someone so much. Loving someone so much so as to push him away. So... that's why YQY never tried to break SQQ out of prison. Loving someone enough to surrender himself to HHP so that YQY won't lose his status and honour by starting a sect war. Oh yes, YQY, was so ready to start a sect war for this scum...this... This scum who loved him. Something heavy, something unexplainably cruel and cold grips LBH's heart so tightly, he feels like if someone so much as pokes at him now, he will break apart. All SQQ ever did was torment everyone around him, spreading his miasma everywhere, and insulted YQY any chance he got...and YQY still loved SQQ all the same. SQQ was supposed to be a lecherous swine incapable of caring for anyone. He was supposed to be evil, and villainous to EVERYONE. A monster to EVERYONE. Because if he is a monster to EVERYONE then of course, he will be a monster to his own disciple, right? LBH found himself getting lost in these turbulent thoughts. He can't do that right now. No, not infront of SQQ.

'He is trying to provoke me into killing him. He will not have an easy way out like that.' thought LBH, as he told SQQ, in a calm, gentle voice, "You want to die? You can’t expect it to really be that easy. Shizun, after all the evil things you’ve done throughout your life, hurting those hostile towards you, hurting those with no malice whatsoever towards you, barely clinging to life and still able to throw a zhangmeng in with the lot—if you don’t die a little slowly, get a chance to suffer all the misery everyone else did, how else could you make it up to them?" After that, SQQ stopped laughing but his expression was unexpected. He looked almost...he looked like he understood. He looked like he was ready. For what? LBH didn't want to know anymore. Xuan Su felt heavier and heavier in his hand. It was no longer just a symbol of YQY's power. It was also a remainder of the genuine and unconditional love his shizun got from someone. He threw the damned sword at SQQ, walked away in a daze.

As he walked away, he couldn't help but think: why...? Why did this happen? If SQQ was always capable of loving then why couldn't he-- He was writhing in pain and heartbreak for YQY, a man who couldn't even protect him, who was so indecisive even at crucial moments, that he couldn't even rescue him from the water prison despite knowing he was capable of it!! Why mourn for the death of someone who failed to protect him when it mattered the most? Who didn't even really try, to be honest. YQY came here to die! Things started falling into places, and LBH hated this picture. Because the picture depicted a story he didn't even know he was a part of. A story of two people who didn't deserve the genuine and unconditional love and loyalty they gave to each other... And he played a side part. He hated himself for thinking this but he couldn't stop himself: if shizun was always capable of loving...why couldn't he love me back? It wasn't fair. IT WASN'T FAIR! IT'S NOT FAIR!! IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!! WHY?! WHY ME?! WHAT DID I DO WRONG?! What was my fault... WHY!!! LBH didn't even realise when he started crying.

[rancidrubysoho]

having sat with it for a while, and reread it with the express knowledge of what it is, i think i need to write a lot about the recent upd8. full content warning for frank discussion of CSA below the cut.

i was definitely blindsided by (for lack of better words) the shock value of the upd8's content, and i think that being detached from that state of "holy shit that's fucking insane that they did that" makes it a lot easier to say they shouldn't have done that. or, at the bare minimum, they should not have done what they did in the way that they did it.

exploring Doc Scratch as a sexual predator is not a terrible idea, nor is it something Homestuck shouldn't or can't do. multiple characters (chiefly Rose and Vriska, but just about half the cast has beef with the guy) have a lot of completely unconfronted baggage with Scratch, and i think that completely waffling past those aspects of the characters would be a waste.

however.

however.

i think the way Scratch's influence on and abuse of Vriska was handled in the recent upd8 was 1) absolutely not appropriately included in the content warning and 2) absolutely not handled correctly. a lot of other people have said it, and i'll add my voice onto that pile-- this is a subject far too intense to be written as what amounts to whump with a vague, inconclusive content warning.

it's important to note that i still really like the upd8 itself. even if it could've been handled better (the echeladder is in extremely poor taste and the content warning was not ample enough for the content of the upd8), it's still absolutely cutting writing that does not mince words... but it feels like it wants you to think it does, in a way?

Homestuck very rarely every directly says things as heavy as they are. what happened between Terezi and Gamzee is never called sexual abuse, but that's what it was, and Terezi's recovery from it is out of focus but still consistent with that fact. Dave's childhood is clearly shown to be abusive, but the exact extent of it is mostly masked by both the story rarely dwelling on it (or positing aspects of it as heightened/comical) and by Dave himself being a character that does not tackle these things more than a handful of times (in pesterlogs that a lot of people skimmed anyway).

this upd8 calls Doc Scratch a pedophile. this upd8 does not mince words about the fact that Doc Scratch is a sexual abuser of children. maybe it was written in such a way that it was meant to be read as a joke (i.e. Bro throwing Dave down a flight of stairs being a SBaHJ reference, doing something absurd and terrible in an in-your-face way), but that potential comedic reading is completely lost when the rest of the upd8 is like that. it's like immediately following Dave and Bro's strife on the roof with a scene of Dave graphically injured.

i don't really have a conclusion or finale here, just a lot of rambling thoughts. i love Beyond Canon thus far, i think it's absolutely stellar and i can't wait to see what the team does next. i hope this upd8 and its rollout having issues doesn't dissuade the team from doing more heavy things like it; i think clearer, more explicit content warnings are an absolute must if we ever get anywhere near this level again (and that a content warning in the actual flash is fucking imperative for archival readers), but all in all the story being told is worth being told.

[narcolini]

trapped

ezekial ‘ez’ reyes x gn!reader, whump, happy ending, 2627 words

warnings for claustrophobia(?) 

for day 11 of whumpril : ‘i’m right here.’

a/n: i always knew this day would come... the solo EZ fic finally beckoned, and i answered. and i promise next time i write him he wont be in mortal danger LMAO

tagging: @drabbles-mc @cositapreciosa @hausofmamadas (let me know if u want to be in any taglists ofc)

Gilly’s barely got the truck in park before you’re flying from the passenger side, door left open behind you. He’d driven far too slow for your liking, so you’re running now, toward the orange-lit yard and the house EZ has passed through a thousand times—with no issue. Until today, of course. And still, Gilly showed no hurry in bringing you here, despite the situation. The very time conscious situation. You’d think, after trying to hide it from you, and then trying to stop you from coming to help, that he’d drive with a bit more pep under his pedals. Use that guilt he’s harbouring, to make amends and get you there fucking faster than the speed limit.

If he did, you’d have time to consider the situation properly. To assess the risk, the likelihood of EZ being in real, serious trouble. As is, you don’t, and your sneakers can’t hit the ground fast enough.

Coco’s the only one you can see, standing by the open garage. Standing, yes, fidgeting, smoking, and doing nothing—like he can afford to do nothing. Like his brother isn’t buried beneath the concrete he’s killing time on.

‘Where is it?’ you blurt, pausing long enough to show him your face. Let him see that it’s you, you’re serious, and stressed out of your mind, so it would be very fucking smart for him to answer without argument. ‘The tunnel?’

‘The fuck…’ His arm falls to his side, cigarette smoke curling back up the length of it. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

‘Hm, I don’t know.’ You line the sarcasm with enough venom to sting. ‘Something about my boyfriend being trapped in a collapsed smuggler’s run?’

He tuts sharply, looking past you to Gilly. ‘You were supposed to keep this shit quiet, bro.’

‘I couldn’t—’

You cut Gilly off, snapping your own voice over his reply, ‘The real question is, why the fuck are you out here and not in there, digging him out?’

It’s behind him, you realise, the opening. A small square cut from the concrete, with a ladder set over the edge it. You don’t have time to debate it, though you could chew Coco out until the sun came up, so you burst past him instead.

‘Keeping watch—hey!’ he shouts after you, sounding as annoyed at you, as you are at him. ‘There’s no fucking space for you, dude. You’re just gonna get in the way.’

It doesn’t matter. If EZ’s stuck in there, you’ll make space. You’ll pick the walls apart with your own hands if you have to.

You take the ladder facing forward, which is a mistake, but you’re too committed to it to turn around now. Your hands grapple at the metal rungs behind, heels slipping every other step. It looked like a bigger height from the top, but the clambering, clumsy approach you’ve taken, makes it feel like two or three foot, max. Gone in a blink, and then you’re underground, at the end of the tunnel with the destruction sitting right there in front of you. And God, it’s as bad as your anxiety had told you it would be.

The air is choked with dust, disturbed dirt from the collapse, you assume, and it’s thick enough to make you cough. To irritate your throat as soon as you take that first breath. It’s even making it hard to see, putting a cloudy filter over the narrow alleyway that you have to squint through. Your arm goes up, forearm shielding your eyes, like that’ll be any help at all.

‘EZ?’

There are figures ahead, that you can make out, two men swinging at the wall where the ceiling caved in. As you get closer, toes catching on the gaps between the plywood walkway, it’s obvious who it is, Angel and Creeper, both working away at the rubble. Creeper’s topless, Angel's sweating through his A-tank, and both have been working long enough to look sick with it. Tired and lagging.

‘Get out the way,’ you bark, pushing between the two. You have to get to him, you have to get close enough to the landslide of mud to see for yourself, to know. To know that he’s…

‘The fuck?’ Angel stumbles back, shovel swinging free from the dent he’s made. ‘No, nah, you can’t be here.’

You flick your gaze back to him, hand flapping behind you. ‘Give me the.’ You swallow, airborne dust drying your tongue and words with it. ‘The thing, the fucking. Give it me.’

‘Are you kidding me?’

Creeper’s still working, chipping away at the dirt with the end of his shotgun. It isn’t efficient, by any means, but it must be all he has. All you have, now. Two dudes with a shotgun and a shovel. One big fucking wall of collapsed earth, with no sign of life on the opposite side.

‘EZ?’ You turn to it, desperate. ‘Ezekiel?’ Your palms smack against it, but all you make is a shallow pathetic slap that has no hope of carrying through. ‘I’m right here,’ you shout, before turning your head to put your ear to the cold of it. ‘Can you hear me?’

Angel answers in his brothers place, ‘You really shouldn’t be in here.’

‘Shut up.’

‘This shit isn’t stable, it could collapse again any fucking—’

‘I said shut up,’ you snap, ‘I’m trying to listen.’

It hums, almost, the dirt against your ear. Echoes like you’ve held a shell to it, and not pounds and pounds of ancient soil.

‘EZ?’

Creeper stops when you call for him this time, giving you the momentary silence you need, because—there, yes—there it is, faint as anything: your name said back to you, muffled but clear enough to be real. EZ, alive, conscious, and talking back. Hope jumps into your chest, right behind the heart. It’s not over yet. He’s in a pocket, somewhere, a gap big enough to survive in.

‘Give me the shovel, Angel.’

You look back when he ignores you, just in time to catch him and Creeper exchanging a look, a pair of expressions that you know to take as a no. Loco, they’re thinking. You’re in over your head.  

They set to work again, and you let them, staggering back a couple yards to give them space to swing. You can’t dig any faster or better than they can, determination or not. Even love can’t manage that.

‘Hold on, EZ,’ you tell him, though you’re probably too far away now, and the shirt you’re holding over your mouth, to block the rising dust, is muffling the words. ‘Just, hold on.’

A little longer, and he’ll be out. Just a little longer.

They’re making progress, you can tell, the wall is concave and crumbling now. In fact, your arrival seems to have only made them quicker, more thorough, the dirt coming off in chunks, splitting and shattering by their feet. If they aren’t careful, they might get through so fast that they’re a danger to him. Shovel to the head, shotgun nose to the outstretched arm. He could be anywhere within the collapse, hearing them get closer and closer, unable to speak loud enough to stop them.

You can’t think about that. You can’t think of him in there, under the weight of it all. Chest tight, restricted. Mud in his eyes. Wires and plastic from the overhead lights, all wrapped up on top of him.

You chew your lip to stop it. Teeth through the skin, copper in your mouth. He’s alive and you’ll see him soon enough. He’s alive and you’ll see him—

‘I got something.’ It’s Creeper, loud and certain. ‘Help me clear this shit, man.’

Angel tosses his tool aside, just as Creeper has, choosing to use their hands instead. Dirty and desperate, their knees on the piles of earth they’ve already shifted. It only takes a moment before they’ve cleared enough away that you see it too: black, muddied leather. The white edge of writing.

It’s him.

You can’t give them space after that. You’re in there with them, shoulders bumping, six hands clawing away at the wall until more and more of EZ is revealed. His arm, the blue of his jeans. A bit longer, and you’ve found his head, found the bent metal strip-light that has shielded him from the worst of it. If it wasn’t for that, he’d have no pocket to breathe in, no eyes to blink up at you.

‘Hey,’ you whisper, bending down to put your face next to his. You had imagined saying something useful to him, something reassuring. But when you’re down to the moment of it, all that comes out is that, hey, soft and wavering.

He blinks again, pulling in a wheezing breath as he looks up at you—he hasn’t recognised you yet, you can tell, he’s still catching up on being alive. On having light on his face, and free air to breathe, dusty or not. He’s on his back, lengthways down the tunnel. Not out yet, but Creeper and Angel are working on that, pulling chunks off with clawing fingers.

‘EZ?’ you try, brushing the grit from his eyes, then the corners of his mouth, the angles of his beard. ‘We got you, okay? We’re getting you out.’

He croaks your name, makes the connection at last. Bleary eyes at bleary eyes.

‘Yeah,’ you sniff, fighting tears without realising it, ‘it’s me. I’m here.’

Your hands are shaking as you put your palms to his head—too far gone to try and still them now. What matters, is EZ. His comfort. You want flesh between him and the ground, warmth, not cold roughness, to cradle his head.

‘Just a little bit longer,’ you promise.

His eyes close, but he attempts a nod, moving his chin just enough to be noticeable. The next breath he takes is bookended with a cough, dry and filled with the crap you’re all breathing in.

‘You sure I’m not dead?’ he asks, only audible because your face is so close to his, your hair flopping down onto his forehead.

‘Yeah,’ you laugh, though it’s more of a sob, ‘I’m sure.’

‘Seems like heaven.’ He forces a dry swallow. ‘I see an angel.’

You sniff again, your nose threatening to leak, and brush over his face once more. Gentle, because you’re too scared to break him. ‘You’re choosing now to flirt with me?’ you joke, keeping your voice quiet. ‘You’re ridiculous, EZ.’

He smiles—or at least he tries to, one edge of his mouth twitching upwards.

‘I think that’s that’s good enough,’ Angel says, sitting back on his boots. ‘Think we can pull him out now.’

You nod, shuffling back yourself, though it’s the last thing you want to do. His legs are free enough to wiggle him out without threatening the structure of it all—without crushing the rest of you in the process. So if you have to leave him to do that, let his head sit back in the dirt, just for now, then okay. ‘Okay,’ you tell them. ‘Where should I…?’

Angel’s taking your place at the head of him, forcing his hands beneath EZ’s shoulders. Creeper grabs the leg they’ve dug entirely free, hooking his elbow around his thigh and, well, there isn’t room for you to help at all. So you step back, again, stumbling to your feet so they have space to manoeuvre him.

‘You ready, lil bro?’ Angel asks, panting still, a thick sweat over his brow. ‘In three.’

Creeper nods, and then they pull without waiting for three at all. Probably because they’re just as desperate as you are, now, just as keen to see EZ out and safe again. They’ve been digging so long that there can’t be much energy left in their reserves. It’s now, or never. One tug, two grunts, a catch in the dirt, a tear of EZ’s shirt sleeve, and then it gives. It all gives.

They pull him out of the landslide using their bodies as the counterweight, EZ tugging free and over their laps as they fall backwards from the effort of it. You’re only watching and it’s made your breath heavy, matching the rise and fall of their own chests. They did it. He’s out. Sprawled and painted with dirt, red spotting up his arms from the scratches and nicks he’s collected, but alive. Scooping breaths in like water.

‘God,’ Angel rushes, slapping a palm to EZ’s shoulder, ‘you need to cut some weight, bro.’

‘Yeah,’ Creeper laughs, ‘like moving a fucking bear.’

And then they’re all laughing, even EZ, as weak as it is, panting for air and laughing with the relief of it. Shit, even you’re smiling, and the lump of worry in your throat is still set there like concrete. It’ll stick until you’ve seen him up and walking again.

But they need to catch their breath first, and you can’t carry him alone.

‘D’you think you can stand?’ you ask, looking down at EZ laying over their legs. If he can’t, you’re all in for a struggle, trying to get him up that ladder and through the gap smaller than his shoulders will be near impossible.

EZ nods, taking a finally deep breath before pulling himself upright. He nearly manages it alone, but Angel helps him in the last minute, with a palm to his back, and then once he’s got the momentum of it, he’s up. Wincing and limping as he turns, but up.

You’re crying again. Or, your eyes are, and you’re just letting them. Wet down your cheeks.

‘I thought you were…’ You can’t manage to say it. The words become a whimper that you try to hide by clearing your throat. Before, you had enough of a mission to ignore the fear of it, the sinking what if behind your eyes. Now, it’s pouring out like gasoline. So thick, you can hardly breathe.

He struggles over to you; from the clench of his jaw, you can tell he’s hiding what it costs him, how much it hurts, to protect you. To save you from worrying even further. One foot in front of the other, between where the two men sit, and then he’s in front of you. Upright, and alive, and breathing hot, dry breath over you.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, pulling you into a hug with the arm he seems to be favouring.

You press your face to his chest and lock your hands behind the back of him. ‘For what?’ you mutter, glad of his clothes to muffle the catch in your voice.

‘Scaring you all the time.’ He puts a kiss to your head, against the hair, holds you tighter than you dared to hold him. ‘Must be the worst boyfriend in the world.’

You scoff, puffing it at the skin by his neck. ‘You think I’d dig through this shit to get you, if you were?’

You’d dig through three times the amount if it meant seeing him safe. If it meant having him, like this, on the other side.

He squeezes you again, before pulling back and shifting so he can lay his arm over your shoulder. There’s a thank-you in the way he looks at you, a level of relief, and love, that neither of you need to articulate. It’s enough to make you sniff away the last of your tears, to take an edge off the lingering concern.

‘Can we get out of here?’ he asks, wincing, and hissing a breath as he tries to walk again. ‘Always fucking hated these tunnels.’

‘Yeah,’ you scoff, ‘me too.’

If only it made a difference. If only that would stop him walking through one again.

[whumperofworlds]

Whumpmas in July 2024 Day 1: (Re)Introduce Yourself!

Hiiii! I'm WoW, 29, she/her, and I loved whump since I was very young! I love writing, playing video games (my fandoms are usually Final Fantasy I, Fire Emblem, and Super Smash Bros!), and daydreaming about whump! I really enjoy making new friends, and if you want to be friends, by all means! :D

Rest of my intro under cut!

❤️ Name: WoW

💚 Pronouns: She/her

🤍 Favorite season: Winter!

❤️ Average amount of sleep: >.> <.< Depends...

💚 Dream Job: A published author and a game developer! Has been my lifelong dreams!

🤍 Blog established date: May 2020, I think. God, time flew... though I didn't use the blog much until around 2022?

❤️ Username/blog meaning: My main is @writer-of-worlds . I'm a whumper. So. Whumperofworlds!

💚 Hobbies: Playing video games, writing, surfing online!

🤍 What you love about whump: The hurt! The eventual comfort! To me, even after everything, in the end, everything will be alright. And I want to remind myself that by writing whump!

❤️ Anything else to add: For years, I was looking for my place online. Now I do! :D So, special thanks to the whump community for introducing me to a wonderful place ❤️

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[gumnut-logic]

31. Broken limb and dealers choice of character 😁

K2

The first thing that came to mind was a scene referred to in Six Point Five, so this is what resulted. Not long, but it is something :D

Thank you so much for asking ::hugs tight::

And thank you to the wonderful @onereyofstarlight for answering my call yet again and reading through my writing ::hugs you too::

It's short, whump, and Earth and Sky. Sorry to both Tracy bros. I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

“Hold still!”

“I’m trying!”

“Virgil-“

“You’re holding it wrong.”

Scott sighed. His heart was still beating in his ears. After watching Virgil slip over the edge, caught in a rockfall, his circulation system hadn’t yet recovered.

Or the rest of him, really.

So close.

Don’t think about it. Focus.

“Virgil! I’ve got it. You’re going to be okay.”

“Not if you don’t hold it correctly.”

This could easily have been an argument over fixing Two down in the hangars if it wasn’t for the gasp in his brother’s voice.

And the several thousand foot drop off to their left that could have brought so much to an end.

“Virgil, do you trust me?”

Even in the frostbitten air between them and the reflection off his helmet, Scott could see the honesty in his little brother’s eyes as he drew in an unsteady breath. “Of course.”

“Then trust me.”

And without further warning, he lifted his brother’s leg and set it.

The scream that came with it cut his heart to pieces. “It’s-it’s done.” He focussed on scanning and then further immobilizing the broken limb. At least now it was less fodder for a horror film.

His thoughts were interrupted by a roar as suddenly, on the far side of the valley, half a mountain of snow slid down onto the glacier below.

Goddamnit.

He found himself bodily covering his brother, hovering over him as if to protect him from the world collapsing.

Virgil hadn’t noticed. His eyes were screwed shut and he was panting, sweat beading on his brow.

God, he wished the man would take the pain medication when he was told to.

Scott hovered there a moment longer, as the valley below filled with an avalanche that could never reach them. For some reason he did not want to move back. Pushing all his weight onto one arm, he reached out and clasped Virgil’s shoulder. “You with me?”

Dark eyes opened, filled with pain. More an exhale than anything else, “Always.”

“Good.”

And with that, Scott shut down his emotions and got on with getting his brother off this damned mountain.

To think that Virgil had dragged him out on this ‘simple’ rescue to get him away from Dad’s desk.

Scott was ever so grateful he had come.

Firstly, rich and privileged idiots should not be allowed to climb a mountain like K2, or any mountain bigger than an anthill for that matter, without sufficient training and experience. The idiots who had them out today were poorly equipped and would have died come nightfall after having an argument with their guide and wandering off.

It was the guide who had called IR. His apologies were extensive and frustrated.

But he was right. Scott and Virgil had found them mired in deep snow and, despite their protests, completely lost.

They were damned lucky Virgil was there. Scott wanted to give them a piece of his mind, particularly when they initially refused to leave the mountain. It was only due to Virgil’s patience – that would likely at some point result in a violent painting or mess of a composition on the piano – and using the ‘fame’ element of flying a Thunderbird and coercing them into coming for a ride that got them moving.

Yet it was also Virgil’s kindness that had him fetching the woman’s pack. Or more likely, she put up so much of ruckus, Virgil preferred to shut her up rather than kill her on the way to New Delhi, no matter how short the journey.

That return to the snow led to Scott spinning just in time to see Virgil slide over the edge as the rockface gave way.

A call to John that had so little words but cried out for so much.

The rest was a blur of terror and fear as Scott scrambled down the mountain after his brother. He didn’t have his jetpack. They’d left One at home. It was supposed to be a quick rescue. A bit of brotherly time together.

But Scott was ever so grateful for the time they were given due to a snow-covered ledge that had caught his brother.

The alternative…

He was willing to thank any deity that watched over them.

A broken leg, bent in blatantly the wrong direction, halfway up K2.

“You held it wrong.” The words were little more than a gasp.

“It’s done.” Scott drew in a breath and fastened the last of the splint velcro. “Alan and Gordon will be here any moment and we’re getting you off this rock.”

Shifting the remains of Virgil’s right boot aside, he sat down next to Virgil and let out a breath. “You’re safe.”

A sigh and Virgil’s helmeted head dropped gently onto Scott’s shoulder.

As a familiar and beloved roar swelled at the other end of the valley, he draped his arm around his little brother’s shoulders.

“Safe.”

-o-o-o-

[transboysokka]

This is a big ask so don't feel like you have to, but would you be interested in pitching some summaries of the fics you have up on Ao3? I know there are summaries up there, but I like the casual way you have with words and you say fuck a lot and I dunno yeah

omg this is so funny bc i know the exact way with words you're talking about and of course im not gonna pass up a chance to promote my own work hehe YOU GOT IT!

i have 20 atla fics so I'm going to recommend them in order of... least to most kudos??? to try to trick people into reading more of my stuff? lol idk

I'm 99% sure all of these are Zukka fics...

The Last Five Years - ok actually this is a bad place to start bc i don't think im gonna finish it. it just really didn't take off but um its a The Last Five Years AU with really fucking sad Divorced Zukka

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Cry - this is i think my newest one, it has trans zukka and it's a bit angsty with a fake death but i also think it's kind of fun. it's the idea trans people have of ''who's going to care if my family puts the wrong name on my gravestone?" but there IS a happy ending

A Problem Halved is a Problem Shared - im gonna be honest i dont fucking remember writing this one lol but it says dialogue-only and it WILL be angsty bc it is about zuko and sokka dealing with different issues they have

One Last Time (and its sequel The End of All Things) - Actually OLT is definitely one of my faves I ever wrote. It's my canon-compliant take on um... *cough* Sokka's death, referenced in Korra. It's SO angsty but it has one of the most visceral scenes I've ever written and I DID cry writing this. TEoAT is the happy ending Divorced Zukka deserved with bonus Iroh but you WILL cry reading that too. BUT i cant fucking recommend these ones enough!!!!

If I fade away (the awful things we do to make the head go quiet) - VERY dead dove. trans zuko needs to pay a MASSIVE price to get home to the Fire Nation after Ba Sing Se, and it's not his choice at all. I love this but READ WITH CAUTION

In Which Sokka is Supportive Ally Boyfriend Goals - I am dead serious i like dont remember this one at all but i know it has trans zuko!

Nourishing the Flame Within - not the best written tbhtbh BUT it does have two very important Zukos in it that I hold to be universally true: trans zuko and eating disorder zuko

bad idea right? - okay this is DEF one of my faves lol its about divorced zukka but they just cant stop messing things up and sleeping with each other even though theyre not together anymore lolol

Keeping it in the Family - lmao OKAY SO this is the ONE version of zukka that im like 'ok all u z*tara folks, maybe zuko WAS with her and it obvs didnt work' and then he hooks up with sokka instead and its GREAT but oops now we have Family Drama

Scars of Trust - bro im not gonna like i barely remember writing this one but i remember I LOVE IT and it's about sokka who has been dating zuko a while but he finally learns that zuko is trans? its great

Playing the Long Game - eh, i don't love it, but I'd say it's worth a read. it was my first longer fic in the fandom. it DOES have a great Zukki evolution though if you're into that, and a nice mystery!! Also some whump and angst bc of course

Keeping Score - I liked this one! It's just little snippets of times Sokka has survived assassination attempts, because we always hear about it happening to Zuko, but Sokka gets them too. Angst obviously

It Was Cruel and It Was Wrong - wow, a dead dove fic, yes. It's basically like "If I'm Joo Lee and you're Joo Lee, then who's flying the bison?" Yeah so Sokka and Zuko are both brainwashed by the Dai Lee and Suffering but be careful because this gets DARK

Mother - Izumi has two dads but she feels bad she doesn't have a mom. But guess what, her dads don't have moms either!! She's very happy to find that out! Wow Izumi, way to have some sympathy.

Impact - It's about Zuko taking a longer time to recover from an assassination attempt than he'd want, and Sokka being loving and patient with him! I wrote this when I had a bad concussion for like three weeks and so it's pretty like. Medically accurate lol

Scratchy - Short and sweet. I don't remember this one much but I know that it is fluffy and involves turtle ducks!

Hidden Pain, Shared Love - Another short and fluffy one. It's about the first time Zuko sees that Sokka has problems with his leg sometimes?

Zuko and Sokka Get Engaged in the Most Zukka Way Possible - okay i actually really love this one because it's on brand and cute and also i made it fucking angsty because oF COURSE

Zuko Amongst the Dragons - yes so what if zuko was raised by dragons and met the gaang but he was super feral? and what if shenanigans ensued? AND what if sokka and zuko fell in love anyway????