#quirkykayleetam writes

[mxxnlightwriting]

Okay everyone, please interact with this post if you're okay being tagged in tag games and stuff like that. I'll add your name to this post so that I can refer to it when looking for people to tag (because I never know who is okay with what, and I don't want to bother people who don't want to participate)

@thekingofthenameless @the-arson-author-gamer @major-arcana-series @nrivanwrites @gullwrites

@savvyminnow @vivianwrite @tragicheirs @world-of-iridensia @keen2meecha

@foyle-writes-things @pcm-vandermeer @vsnotresponding @innocentlymacabre @theprissythumbelina

@notwritinganyflufftoday @rachaellawrites @trixierosewrites @k--havok @dyrewrites

@indigowriting @kayedium-writes @maddstermind @leebrontide @abiteofhoney

@astorichan @physalian @bluberimufim @seastarblue @aurumni-writes

@daughter-of-inklings @theroseempress @bellascarousel @moltenwrites @quirkykayleetam

@pandoras-comment-box @frantheram @orphanheirs @waltzshouldbewriting @thewingedbaron

@written-among-the-stars

[waywardwizzard]

Thanks for the tag! <3 I've been working on a few Firefly fics but I think this was the last thing I wrote (it's for a special fic dedicated to all the Browncoats out there):

"Jewel thief," River mumbled, staring past her brother with dreamy eyes, "Musn't be greedy."

Tagging: @rubyonyxred @kmlaney @hyperobsession @carcrash429 @schildmehdchen @xenascribbles @cappuccinopoweredsprite @foxeddin @quirkykayleetam @tactfullamp @iacyper9 @grandninjamasterren @clawedandcute @cobaltsoulsearcher (also, if you don't write/draw, I'm so sorry and if you don't want to be tagged let me know!)

Last line challenge

Tagged by @battlekilt

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

“You’ve done enough. And now you deserve some rest.”

@ylvisruinedmylife @starsofatlantis @crazycriter @majorsoapfan @tumblingghosts @hannahhook7744 @cleverqueencommander I have no idea who else to tag because I’m not sure whether they do or don’t write/draw or how much :p

[straight-to-the-pain]

15 and 62???

Thanks for asking!!

15) Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Definitely behind. I really enjoy taking photos but I don’t really think I turn out well in photos myself unless I don’t realise that someone is taking them. And personally I prefer taking photos of nature than people, just because I think nature is more interesting to photograph in new and innovative ways.

62) What’s your favourite animal?

I feel like this is somewhat of a joke answer but the first one that popped into my head was the osedax and I’m just gonna roll with it. They’re bone eating worms that live in the deep ocean and the females have a harem of accessory dwarf males living inside them that they feed and give shelter to in exchange for being able to reproduce basically. Also did I mention that they eat bones? Yeah.

[wanderingcas]

Wednesday and Yesterday???

wednesday: name a fic which you have posted which you think is underrated?

observations on dean winchester was the first fic i posted ever so it’s obviously going to have the least amount of attention since i was a nobody at the time lol. but i’m really kinda proud of it.

yesterday: favourite way to write angst?

by writing it. a LOT. lol. (i hope that’s what this is asking??) fav angst tropes are miscommunication and mutual pining

[halliewriteshockey]

1, 8, 18, and 23???

1. When did you start reading fic? (how old you were or how long ago) It’s only been six years for me! I started reading fanfic in 2013. Once I discovered AO3, though, it was a free-for-all. 

8. Are there any genres that you tend to avoid? Mpreg is still a hard no-fly zone for me. I don’t seek out A/B/O but I’ve read it (and written one piece, mostly to say I had). I’ll read almost anything, really.

18. What kind of commenter are you? (no comment, short comments, emojies, keyboard smash, long comments, etc) I like to focus on something the author did well---the interaction between characters, or maybe the beauty of a nicely turned phrase, or something that made me laugh. I’ll quote that and tell them how much I enjoyed it. If it’s not a pairing I usually read, I’ll tell them that too, because it’s always delightful to pull people into OTPs and I know I love hearing when I manage it.

23. What do you wish more fic authors would do? Write my OTPs so I have something to read at work? :P

[awkwardnessandbaseball]

Can you tag me when you release a new chapter of your Once Upon a Time Dog Soulmate AU???

Oh gosh! Yes absolutely!

Ummm I guess message me or reply to this if you want to be on my very first tag list ever!?

[aprilqueen84]

A Toast To The New Year

A/N: Hello everyone! I wanted to first off by saying that I am very happy to be back writing and that I am thankful to everyone for being so patient for this story. I know that it's a little (three weeks) late but I hope you all love it. This is not betaed so any mistakes and grammar problems are mine, I just wanted to get this out to you. Also if you do not see your name on my tag or you wish to be added let me know!

Tag List: @hollyethecurious, @resident-of-storybrooke, @kmomof4, @jennjenn615, @pirateherokillian, @piinfeathers @enchanted-swans, @superchocolatecocoabear, @deathbycaptainswan, @winterbaby89, @kingofmyheart14, @a-faekindagirl, @kymbersmith-90, @ekr032-blog-blog, @laschatzi, @teamhook, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @capswantrue, @bmbbcs4evr, @kday426, @tiganasummertree, @Ifh1226-linda, @meganhinsley, @xarandomdreamx, @jrob64, @hannahhook7744, @klynn-stormz @therooksshiningknight, @earanemith, @snowbellewells, @motherkatereloyshipper, @emmythedaydreamer, @quirkykayleetam, @onceuponsomechaos, bdevereaux-blanche.

A Toast To The New Year

It was two weeks before Christmas when Emma brought the subject up to Killian as they were sitting around the kitchen table eating breakfast. 

“A  New Year’s Eve Party, Love,” Killian asked perplexed.

Emma nodded her head as she took a sip of her coffee. “Yeah. It’s at Town Hall. Regina is throwing it,” she said nonchalantly.

Killian raised an eyebrow at her. “And what, pray tell, does a New Years Eve party entail love?” 

Emma tilted her head at her husband in confusion for a few seconds before realizing her faux pas. “Oh! I’m sorry babe. Sometimes I forget that you’re still not familiar with some of our traditions,” she said sheepishly

Killian reached across the table and rested it on Emma’s. “It’s alright love, it just goes to show what a modern man I’ve become,” he joked. 

Emma laughed. “Too true. It’s basically just a gathering to celebrate the new year.” she explained.

“I gathered that love, but what does one do at these celebrations?” he asked.

“The ones I’ve been to in the past. Mostly drink.” she responds with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Aye? Sounds like my kind of party Swan,” Killian said jovially.

Emma smiled at him. “Some go out to these extravagant parties where there’s dancing and drinks while others choose the more laid back route and stay in with family and friends. But either way it ends with a countdown to midnight and when the clock strikes 12 you ring in the new year with a kiss.” 

“A kiss you say? Well I think I’m liking the idea of this New Years Eve business more and more,” he said cheekily, wagging his eyebrows at her.

Emma shook her head playfully at her husband. “Of course that would be the first thing that registers to you the most.”

“Can you blame me, love?” He said, giving her a devilish look.

Emma rolled her eyes at her husband's antics. “So what do you think?” she asked, getting back to the subject at hand.

“Well that depends, love. I assume this party is going to be more on the extravagant side?” he hedged a guess.

Emma grimaced a little. “Yeah. Probably. I don’t know all the details yet. Mom only told me about it last night.”

“Well if it means I get to spend the evening dancing with my beautiful wife then count me in,” he said lovingly.

Emma felt herself start to blush slightly. “Charmer.”

“Only for you my love,” he said, lifting her hand up to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Just let me know the full details when you find out and we’ll go from there.”

Emma nodded her head. "Yeah. I'm meeting my Mom for lunch tomorrow and I'll see if she knows anymore about it. Hopefully Regina doesn't go too overboard." 

XX

"A what!" Emma exclaimed. When she asked her mother what the New Years Eve party was going to be like , a variety of scenarios went through her head but she was not prepared for what came out of her mother's mouth.

"A ball! Isn't that exciting!" Snow said gleefully.

Emma just stared at her mother in silence until it finally registered what she said. "What on earth possessed Regina to make the theme of the party a ball? And what kind of ball are we talking about? Fancy dress up, like black tie or..she trailed off, afraid of saying the next part out loud in case the feeling she had was right.

"An Enchantment Forest ball!" Snow said, confirming her worst nightmare.

Emma closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. "Because of course it is." she mumbled under her breath.

Snow continued on, oblivious to the internal turmoil her daughter was going through. “Oh Emma, I can just picture it. Everyone dressed in their ball attire, dancing and mingling,” she lets out a sigh. “It’ll be magical,” she said wistfully.

As she listened to her mother, Emma felt most of her annoyance fade. She realized that it’s been a long time since Snow has been to a ball (the one in Camelot in her opinion didn’t count. She was the Dark One and a man died. Not really a fun celebration.) so she takes a deep breath and says, “That’s a big undertaking. New Year's Eve is only two weeks away. I take it you’re helping Regina out?” she asked.

“Absolutely! When Regina told me what the theme was I jumped at the chance to help. Let me tell you all about it,” Snow said.

As Emma listened to her mother go over the details, one stuck out to her the most. “Wait mom. Ballroom? Town Hall doesn’t have a ballroom.” As soon as she said that Emma noticed Snow grow quiet. When she looked up at her, she saw that her mother was looking down at the table, “Mom?”

“Well it’s not going to be at the Town Hall anymore. It’s not big enough,” Snow said, not quite meeting her eyes.

Emma frowned. “Well where is it going to be?”

“I told Regina that it wasn't a good idea but she was adamant. She said it was the only place that could hold everyone,” Snow said in a rush.

“Slow down Mom. Why are you so upset?” Emma asked.

Snow hesitated before finally saying, “The ball is going to be at The Sorcerer’s  Mansion.”

Emma froze. Memories of spiders and a bright light behind a door ran through her head. “Why? Why would she pick where Gold and Gideon tried to kill me of all places?” She said slightly sticken.

Snow sighed. “I know, I know. I tried to talk her out of it. I really did,” she paused, shrugging her shoulders. “But you know how Regina can get sometimes. You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to honey. Your father and I would understand.”

Emma nodded her head. “I know Mom. Let me talk to Killian about it first.”

Snow reached over and patted her hand gently. “Alright sweetheart.”

XXX

Killian watched Emma pace back and forth as she told him about the conversation she had with her mother this afternoon and to say he wasn’t happy about the news would be an understatement. Memories of feeling powerless tied to that fence as the Crocodile taunted him about stealing Emma’s magic and trapping her in that blasted hat. 

“So what do you think?” Emma asked, pulling him back to the present.

Killian glanced up at his wife from where he was seated on the couch. He saw that she was  wringing her hands together and biting her bottom lip. “Come here love,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

Emma walked over, took his hand and sat down next to him. She could immediately feel the tension leave her body. “I’m being silly right? I mean it’s just a building. I shouldn’t let it affect me so much.” 

“It’s not silly Emma,” Killian said softly. 

“I just,” Emma paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “I just hate feeling like this.”

Killian tilted his head at her in question. “Like what love?”

“Like that place has some kind of power over me. I was fine and then as soon as Mom mentioned the Mansion I froze and I was right back there, almost falling for Gold’s trap and fighting a giant spider.” Emma confesses wearily.

Killian couldn’t stand seeing his Swan look so dejected. “Emma. It doesn’t make you powerless. You’ve been through so much over the past few years, it’s only understandable that you would feel like that. Plus you’re not alone, we both have terrible memories of that place, the Gold men tormented us both there.” 

“What a pair we are huh?” Emma said with a chuckle.

Killian smiled at her. “So what do you say we conquer the memories together?”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, confused.

“Well you said that New Years is a time for new beginnings and for leaving unpleasant things in the past and moving forward right?” Killian asked her.

“Yeah,” Emma replied, still not sure where he was going with this.

“How about we show those memories who’s boss and have the night of our lives,” Killian said animatedly.

“You mean go to the ball?” Emma asked, sort of unsure.

“Aye! Come on Emma. When have you ever backed away from a challenge?” Killian asked teasingly.

Emma playfully glared at him. “A challenge huh? Okay Captain I’ll bite,” she stopped, contemplating something for a few seconds before continuing. “ Under one condition.”

“What’s that?” Killain asked suspiciously

“I get to pick our outfits for the ball,” Emma smiled devilishly at him.

Killian narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you up to, Swan?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Emma said before leaning over and placing a lingering kiss to his lips.

XXX

TIme moved quickly after that. Christmas came and went and before everyone knew it, it was New Years Eve. The whole town had been excited for the party with people going into the local clothing shops in droves to find the right outfit to wear. When Emma came up with the idea of what her and Killians outfits were gonna be, she knew exactly the right person to help her. To say her mother was over the moon when she asked for her help (with several promises to keep it a secret)  would be an understatement. She had started to get a little worried because it had been taking longer than anticipated but when she had gotten the phone call the day before the party that they were done, she breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Standing in the foyer, Emma stared at the two garment bags hanging from the coat rack. She was equal parts excited and nervous for the big reveal. Killian had been trying to get out of her for the past two weeks what they were going to wear but she held strong even though he had been very persuasive. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Killians face when he saw them, he won’t know what hit him. Almost as if he sensed her thinking about him, Killian walked through the door at that very minute. Upon seeing her husband Emma quickly went over to him and threw her arm around him.

“Oof!” Killian let out a grunt at the sudden collision. “Not that I’m complaining love but what’s all this about?”

Emma pulled back and looked up at him with a beaming smile across her face. “They’re here!” She said, pulling him over to the coat rack.

“What’s here Swan?” Killian asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Our outfits for the party!” Emma said enthusiastically, taking one of the garment bags and handing it to him.

Killian looked from the bag to Emma and immediately went to unzip it in anticipation. “No!” Emma called out to stop him. When he looked at her in question she said. “You have to wait.”

“Wait for what?” Killian asked. 

“Until you get upstairs! Everything else you need is in the guest room,” Emma informed him. She then kissed him and turned him towards the stairs. “Go on,” she said, giving him a gentle push. Killian gave her a playful glare before making his way up the stairs two at a time, excitement in his steps. As soon as she heard the guest room door shut Emma grabbed the other bag and headed up to the master bedroom

XXX

Emma stood in front of the full length mirror smoothing her hands over the red fabric of her dress. It was exactly what she wanted. Everything from the sweetheart neckline adorned with rhinestones to the full skirt, It’s perfect she thought. She thinks back to when she first wore this dress in The Enchanted Forest and how despite the circumstances she was in she had such a magical time and.. 

A knock on the door broke her from her thoughts. “Emma,” Killian said softly.

Emma turned toward the door, butterflies suddenly bubbled up in her stomach. “Come in.”

Killian walked through the and upon seeing his wife instantly froze. She was a vision in the dress, just as she was the first time she wore it. “Swan..I..You look,” he stuttered, unable to form the words he needed to say.

Emma walked over to him and took his hand in hers. “Are you surprised? She said with a smile.

Killian looked down at her lovingly. “Very much so.”

Emma reached her hands up to run them along the black lapels of his tan colored jacket. “You look just as handsome in it now as you did then.” she said.

“What made you decide on these outfits Emma?” he asked

Emma took a deep breath to gather her thoughts. “The ball in The Enchanted Forest was the first time in my life I felt truly free, where I could let go for a little while and that was because of you,” she told him.

“Emma,” Killian said softly.

“You give me strength. You did then and you do now and I wanted to recreate what i felt that night so,” she stopped and gestured towards their outfits.

Killian was silent for a few seconds before he swooped down and sealed his lips over hers in a passionate kiss. Emma let out a soft moan and gripped his lapels tightly. They stayed like that for several minutes until the need to breathe made them pull away. They rested their foreheads against each other's and just basked in their for one another. 

XXX

The doorbell ringing from downstairs had them pulling back from each other. "Our chariot awaits my love," Killian says, holding out his arm for Emma to take. 

When they made it outside they were greeted with the sight of a horse drawn carriage waiting for them. To keep with the theme, Regina used magic to conjure them to bring the guests to the ball. The driver of the carriage opened the door for them and Killian helped her up into it, before climbing in behind her. Once they were seated on the plush red seats, Killian knocked on the carriage wall behind him and they were off.

XXX

Emma watched through the window as the scenery changed from the lights and buildings of main street to the darkness of the woods surrounding the town. If she didn’t know any better she would have thought she was actually in The Enchanted Forest and she was a princess on her way to a ball with her prince. 

“Everything alright, love?” Killian asked, slightly concerned about how quiet she’s been.

Emma turned to look at her husband who was sitting beside her. “Yeah,” she said with a smile. “Yean, I’am,” and as she said it Emma realized she really meant it. She didn’t have any nerves or feelings of dread about the night ahead. The only thing she felt was excitement. Killian must have realized the same by the expression on her face because he returned her smile and lifted her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles.

The rest of the ride was made in comfortable silence, both content to just be. As they were looking out the window, lights started to appear in the trees on either side of the road, indicating that they had arrived. When they stopped in front of the mansion the driver opened the carriage door, Killian climbed out first then held out his hand to help her out.

When Emma excited the carriage her eyes widened at the sight before her. Regina and her Mom really went all out. Flowers lined the walkway and up the staircase leading up to the entrance of the mansion, tiki torches were also dotted along the walkway, illuminating the night. As they made their way inside, soft music was playing and lanterns were hung on the walls in the hallway leading into the ballroom.

When they stepped into the ballroom it was like they had been transported back to The Enchanted Forest. The room was decorated with white and gold twinkling strands of lights, tall candelabras stood in the corners of the ballroom bringing a soft glow to the room and round tables draped with white table cloths were placed on either side of the room leaving a generous space in the middle for dancing. 

“Wow! This is amazing!” Emma exclaimed, looking at Killian.

Killian nodded his head. “Aye! This is truly spectacular,” he said in awe.

A voice calling their names had them turning to see Snow and David coming towards them through the crowd. “Emma. Killian. You’re here,” Snow enthusiastically said, immediately pulling her daughter and son-in-law in for a hug.

“Hi Mom,” Emma said, returning her mothers hug. Stepping back she looked around the room then back at Snow. “Mom. Everything looks amazing!”

Snow smiled at her daughter. “I know! It all came together so beautifully. Better than I could have imagined.”

The four of them chatted for a few minutes until the music dimmed and dinner was announced. After everyone was done eating, Regina made a short speech thanking everyone for coming and hopes that they all enjoy the rest of the evening. The dance floor opened after that and couple after couple headed about onto the floor.

Emma watched as the couples spin and sway to the music, absolutely mesmerized by their movements.

“Do you want to join in love?” Killian asked her.

Emma turned to Killian and a refusal was on the tip of her tongue but she stopped herself. “Yeah. I would like that,” she said.

Killian quirked an eyebrow in surprise, obviously not expecting her to say that. He stood and held his hand out to her and led her onto the dance floor. Once they got into position, Killian could tell Emma was a little nervous from the way she was flicking her eyes over the crowd. “Hey," he said quietly, bringing her attention back to him. "Just follow my lead. Remember you picked a partner who knows what they're doing," he told her with a smirk. 

Emma smiled at him and then the two of them began to move to the movements of the music. She's never been big on dancing, especially this kind of dancing but with Killian it was effortless. They spent the rest of the night dancing and visiting with everyone there until there was an announcement to head outback because it was five minutes to midnight.

As they stood on the back lawn waiting for the fireworks to begin Emma reminisced about the past few hours.  She couldn’t stop smiling over how perfect tonight was. The dancing, the music, the atmosphere but most importantly the man beside her. She sometimes still can't believe how lucky she was to have Killian as her husband. That he was patient with her, was there for her and supported her through everything.

“Penny for your thoughts Swan,” Killian said from beside her. 

Before she could say anything, someone in the crowd yelled out that there was 10 seconds to midnight 5,4,3,2,1. The sky erupted in a multitude of colors as the crowd yelled out ‘Happy New Years.’ Emma turned to Killian. “I was thinking how there's nowhere I would rather be than right here with you, at this very moment. I love you.”

“Oh Emma. I love you so much.” They both leaned forward at the same time to seal their love and the new year with a kiss. The kiss was full of promise not for new beginnings but for the continued love they share, a love that they fought for and won. 

[pretty-face-breaker]

WIJ: (Re)introduce yourself

Hey, everyone! 

I’m Ace/Acacia and I’ve been writing whump since 2020. This community has been wonderful so far and, since 2020, I’ve been working on two projects: Nick & Hayko and 1973, Emir’s Story. 

My favourite tropes include but aren’t limited to: 

Creepy/intimate whumpers

Mind-games

Masochist Whumpees

Sadistic Whumpers

Beatings & Restraints

Military whump

Abuse of authority

Whumpers as caretakers

Some random facts! My favourite season is autumn, my favourite colour is red, and I average 8 hours of sleep a night, waking up 8:30 am every morning because of school conditioning. 😭 Also, my favourite key is C# minor. 

Some of my favourite whumpblrs:

@evermetnotforgotten

@whump-tr0pes

@pythagoreanwhump

@vacaytobonetown

@straight-to-the-pain

@ashintheairlikesnow

@heathenwhump

@thewhumpstuff

@sableflynn

@quirkykayleetam

@whumpiary

@albino-whumpee

@redwingedwhump

@card-games-and-pain

@deluxewhump

@suspicious-whumping-egg​

@oh-so-skeletal​

​Happy Whumpmas in July!

[quirkykayleetam]

whump on a ship: thoughts? -ur secret sunflower

Whump on a ship is the whump that GOT ME INTO WHUMP!

Tied to the mast, Whipped, Salt spray getting in the wounds!

Thrown in the brig, Dying of thirst while surrounded by water!

Sunburn? Icy Cold? Either way, a whumpee on a ship is literally held captive by the ocean around them; they cannot escape without near certainty of death.

And authoritative regimes can easily be found in ship situations. Pirates? The navy? When your survival depends on everyone else on board, deviance, even accidental deviance, must be swiftly punished.

[straight-to-the-pain]

You know my favorite piece of yours is when Sam is suicidal and decides they don’t want to die yet, though that surprises the hell out of them. You always write pain beautifully, eloquently, also transcendently! But I will also always remember you for the nobility you give your characters. Even Jacob, a minor one stands up for what he believes in. Sam’s defiance is angry and stoic and meaningful. John’s defiance is different, definitely his own but still gorgeous. And his caretaking is soft.

Thank you for responding to that, your comments mean a lot to me. I’m so glad that you think I write pain well and that you think my characters are noble and defiant, because those are my favourite types of characters to write. It’s so important for me to be able to respect my protagonists, so even if they make the wrong decisions you know that they’re still fundamentally working for something they believe in and something they think is good. I also highkey project onto my characters, so a lot of the emotional scenes are really cathartic to write, and I’m glad that they turned out impactful! Thank you <3 

[wanderingcas]

What fic would you write if you had no inhibitions or feats?

that’s an excellent question.

probably the fic i’m trying to write right now. a longfic with a lot of cheesy tropes, indulgent love between dean and cas, and gratuitous angst. 

honesty time; ask me anything

[halliewriteshockey]

Wait, 21 too?

21. most memorable comment/review---honestly, anything by @skinks. She combs through my stuff and pulls out what she likes best and comments on each bit individually; when I get a comment from her I know it’s going to be detailed and in-depth and it’s like the most satisfying meal ever.

Although this one from someone I don’t actually know but who goes by the name significantotters on AO3 is a close second:

i'm just up past my bedtime reading fic where flower and vero sincerely and platonically tell sid they love him and call him cher and take care of him long distancethis is fineeverything is finei'm not crying you're crying

[whumpywhumper]

Worse and Worse

Masterpost

Previous: Trouble

TW: Sick character, face mask, delirium, implied reference to past non-con; non-consensual touch (not sexual); forced stripping (not sexual).

This is a special addition as I wrote this as a Secret Santa gift to the one and only @walkingchemicalfire who is an amazing person and has been such a tremendous encouragement almost the entire time I’ve been writing the Markus/Lucien series. Chem is awesome; and, that’s a fact. All hail the president of the Markus Protection Squad! 

Tagging list: @misspelledwitch @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @voidwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @captivity-whump @liliability @muumimafia @fanastywhump @elisabethrosewrites @unsure-but-alive-752 @jeverest00 @texdoeshalo @fanmanga1357-blog @0idril0 @rosesareviolentlyread @quirkykayleetam

Edit: apparently the tags weren’t working, hopefully that fixed it, idk

V***V

Markus woke up uncomfortable, bones aching, his joints tight and stiff. His head throbbed with every dull thump of his heart as it hung heavy in his chest, his mouth dry, tongue thick and cottoned with his shallow breaths through his chapped lips. The tension through his jaw traveled through the pained creases in his face, down his neck and to his back, his spine curled loosely, his arms crossed over his chest and tight in the blankets. 

Turning deeper into his pillow, he searched for any kind of comfort in the soft surface, but it didn’t give it. The fabric rubbed against the delicate skin of his face, and the simple movement felt agonizing, the pain of it traveling through his body, the sensitivity present in every millimeter of skin under the blankets. God, and he was so cold, but his limbs were coated in sweat, and when he shifted, the blanket moved, and he shivered as the chilled air of the room kissed the back of his neck. 

His body felt like it wanted to shiver, and just keep shivering, but his muscles didn’t have anything to give, the hollow, trembling ache of them almost scary in the weakness that encompassed him. Swallowing past the cottoned dry feeling of his mouth, he tried to take a deeper breath, feeling the drive for more oxygen, but his lungs objected, a rough, barking cough ripping against the back of his throat. Ribs cracking with pain, he gasped raggedly, and moaned, the sound cracking wet and bubbling through his vocal cords. 

“Easy, sweetheart, shhhhhh,” a deep, rumbling voice murmured, gentle fingers brushing over his temple and through his hair. The other person’s skin on his was cool, but soothing, and he whined at the touch, the sound cracking in his raw throat as he turned into it. “I know, sweet guy, I know, buddy, shhhhh.” 

His next breath felt like sediment in his chest, and he coughed again, the air catching in his throat, expanding in his esophagus as dense clots that he had to struggle to breathe around. When the fit was over, it was like all of the ribbing holding his body inflated just disappeared, and he sank into the softness underneath him, wishing that would feel better against his bruised muscles. 

“Is he awake?” someone asked, their voice soft but pitched to carry, the sound of bare feet on tile announcing their location. 

“Not really,” the deep voice answered with another careful stroke through Markus’s hair, “what did the doctor say?” 

“Do a breathing treatment, keep an eye on his O2, and see if we can get the fever down. Bring him in if he gets any worse.” 

“His fever is already over 103, how much worse do they want him to get?” Was the indignant response, and he heard a sigh, the sound of scruff being rubbed in exasperation. 

“We’re going to take him if his fever gets any worse, Kin, but I’m going to go and get that oxygen set up, why don’t you get the pulse ox from my bag, okay?” 

There was a frustrated hiss, but apparently they agreed, because the sound of feet on tile came back. Markus whimpered when whatever he was laying on moved, his entire body shifting as the weight distribution changed. His head was picked up, a hand sliding under his nape until he was resettled on something softer than before. “Shhh, Markus, I know baby, it’s okay.” 

His eyelids fluttered, and he blearily looked up at whoever was talking to him. The room was dim, a distant yellow light casting shadows in the otherwise dark room, and it took him second to make out Kincaid’s frame leaning over him, face barely visible. “Kin’?” he croaked, the word barely a mumble. 

The other man smiled, a splash of white teeth, but the expression was worried, and he brushed his hand over Markus’s hair again, his thumb moving gently back and forth over his temple as he knelt by what Markus realized was the couch. “Yeah, buddy, it’s me.” 

His eyebrows pressed together as he blinked slowly, and he swallowed hard, wincing at the pain in his throat. “Don’. . . feel good,” he whispered between rasping gasps. 

Kincaid’s lips pressed together, but he nodded. “I know you don’t, sweet guy, we’re gonna try and get you feeling better, okay? Do you want some water?” 

Markus nodded, licking his dry lips, and closed his eyes when Kincaid moved away. Water sounded fantastic, something to take the pain away from his dry throat. Ridding him of the awful cottoned taste in his mouth. 

Without Kincaid to keep him present though, the exhaustion started pulling him down. He was so tired, eyelids gumming together, burning with the need to stay closed. Sleep prickled at his consciousness and he settled deeper, fingers tingling, body relaxing. Something landed softly on his shoulder, and he jumped, a dry, pained noise forming in his throat, eyelids flickering back open. 

“Sorry, sweet guy,” Kincaid whispered, “here’s a straw, just small sips, okay?” 

Kincaid held up a cup of water, the coolness of a metal straw pressing against Markus’s lips. He sucked on it gratefully, swallowing down the cool water, feeling the cracked tissue of his throat soak up the fluid. When he was finished, he made a small appreciative sound, and released it, breathing shallowly, fighting the urge to cough and clear his throat again. His ribs hurt already, and he didn’t want to cough again.  

“Okay, Markus,” Kincaid rumbled, his voice passing through Markus’s chest and soothing him, “I got a pulse ox here that I need to clip to your finger, so I’m gonna need your hand, alright?” 

He blinked, nodding slightly in acknowledgement, and clumsily tried to extricate him hand from the knit that he’d managed to tangle his fingers in. 

At his grumpy noise, Kincaid chuckled, and peeled back the layers, worming his way into the blanket to free him. “I’m just gonna invade your space a little, sweet guy,” he said, clipping the familiar weight of the pulse ox around his forefinger, wincing in sympathy when Markus started shivering harder as cooler air plundered his warmth. “I know you’re cold, buddy, I’m sorry, but it’s just the fever, alright?” 

“Yeah. . . “ he breathed, the word small as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. His next breath shuddered into his chest, and he turned his face into the pillow as a cough erupted, ravaging his throat, crunching his ribs together with an all too familiar ache. “Nnn. . . “ 

“Fuck, baby,” Kincaid whispered, his big hand settling on Markus’s nape, his thumb rubbing gently against his sensitive skin. “Yeah, we need that breathing treatment. Ben!” he called, voice not particularly loud but definitely worried. 

The sick witch didn’t really even hear him, his lungs struggling for air as he hid his eyes in the pillow, shaking. He could hear movement and voices, but he didn’t try to focus on the words anymore, exhausted, just wanting to sleep, more coughs wracking his frame, making him hurt even worse. “. . . really low. . . “ 

“. . . getting higher?” 

“…breathing treat—. . . bath. . .” 

“Yeah. . . —up” 

Markus was rolled onto his back, and he moaned as the ache in his joints protested, his head bobbling when an arm slid under his shoulders and knees, lifting him into a bridal carry against a broad chest. He wheezed a little, eyelashes fluttering as he shifted, anxiety thrumming through him when he realized he couldn’t move, his arms trapped against his chest. 

“Shhhh, I gotcha, baby,” lips pressed against his forehead, and that glimmer of magic spread through him, making him settle slightly as those frantic memories of helplessness receded. 

The surface he was placed on was soft, or it should have been, if his miserable body didn’t turn every experience into anguish. His whine as he was settled was met with a matched pair of shushing noises. Another pair of cool hands brushing across his overly hot cheeks. There was an overwhelming kindness there, in those hands, and something deeper, blossoming, something that felt familiar but not

at the same time.

But then there was something cold and wet laid over his throat. 

Panic made him thrash, losing the thread of that emotion, with memories of cold tongues laving over his pulse bubbling up and forming into a weak and pitiful struggle that he wouldn’t give up no matter how fruitless. “. . no—“ he managed to croak before coughing again, no, I’m not going back, no you can’t make me, no please, god, no. 

He sobbed when he was restrained, the sound broken and cracked from the film it was forced through, more shushing sounds that did nothing to soothe the new panic that was building, re-surging, in his chest. He coughed again and again, searching for air, fear searing through him with dizziness and pain. 

“God, fuck—“ 

“—delirious. . . . temp down—“ 

“—ere are the dampeners?” 

Hands that felt bruising and rough to his overly sensitive body held him down, easily trapping his arms back in a material he couldn’t fight through, and he couldn’t feel anything anymore other than the cold weight over his throat. His sobbing drew tight into wire thin sounds that barely made it to his mouth, his eyes closed so tightly that the tears were only able to seep free to make their way down the sides of his face as his head tipped back in search of a way to worm his way free. 

The assault didn’t stop. Strong, calloused hands pulling his arms free and wrapping something around first one wrist then the other, dousing him in cold as he was manhandled and the blanket was stripped from him, stealing whatever warmth he’d managed to capture. 

His crying stole the breath from his lungs, and his struggles weakened into panicked wheezes when something was fitted over his nose and mouth, a sweet medicinal taste coating his tongue as hands returned to his skin, lifting his head and tightening a strap around the back of his head. Markus shook his head in weak denial, pleading with small, wet gasps that barely formed syllables let alone words. No, please, I don’t wanna be sick anymore, I wanna go home, please, lemme go home. He lifted his shaking hands, reaching for the mask, but he was intercepted, and, instead, weak fingers clutched a thick wrists, grabbing at clothing as his heels dug into the bed, and he tried to propel himself away. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” a voice slid through the desperate confusion when his grabbing hands were untangled, pushed back so that they were out of the way, and he shook his head again as thumbs brushed over the apples of his cheeks, around the mask. 

“Markus, Markus, look at me.” 

He didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to see Lucien or faceless people hovering over him, hurting him, sticking and draining and tearing into him piece by piece as he struggled to put one breath after the other. He coughed, almost retching with the force of it, struggling against the hands on his face. 

“Fuck, Bambi,” the voice bit out, a command for attention, “open your eyes and look at me.” 

His eyelids slid open reluctantly, a burning itching at his glassy gaze, but he focused sluggishly on the figure in his line of sight. Ben’s face formed from the shadows, and Markus sobbed, reaching for him, hiccuping thick breaths as Ben leaned in, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck and pulling him into his arms. A hand settled into his hair, brushing back the damp strands as Ben shushed him with quick little quelling noises. The wet thing around his throat fell, and Markus flinched with a whimper, clinging to the solid frame that was holding him. 

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay, shhhhhh,” Ben murmured, pressing his lips to Markus’s forehead, rocking him gently, “it’s okay, Bambi, we’ve gotcha, shhhhh, just breathe, okay? Just breathe, like me. In... Out....In...” 

His fevered weeping trailed off into pitiful sniffles, his breaths settling the longer he was held, his unconscious struggles softening into minute trembling as he melted into Ben’s arms, against that strong chest as Markus was pulled against the other man. 

“That’s it, baby,” Ben praised, murmuring into his hair, continuing to rock him slowly, “that’s it, there ya go, just breathe, let the medicine do its work, okay?” The plastic on his face was adjusted as Markus’s eyelids became too heavy to keep up, but now he could hear the gentle thathump of Ben’s heartbeat as it lulled him into a sense of safety rather than frantic panic, and he didn’t try to shake the thing on his face off again, a lingering tear tickling his clumped eyelashes. “Kincaid’s running a bath for you,” Ben continued, his voice a comforting thunder against Markus’s ear, “and we’re gonna get your temperature down, okay? You don’t have any reason to be scared, we’re taking care of you, Bambi, shhhhh.” 

Ben kept up the steady cadence of reassurance that mixed with the soft hiss that filled the room, and Markus slipped down into a limp lethargy that let him skim against the surface. His coughs spaced out slowly, the tight bands around his lungs starting to loosen.

He could hear the deep murmur of another voice join in with Ben’s, that rumble against his eardrum switching rhythm to conversation, but he couldn’t help his hitched breathing, the flutter of eyelashes when he felt the buttons of his flannel being undone, more cold meeting his skin with an icy touch. Nonono, please. . . 

The rumbling voices rose with a dangerous edge, but the hands on him didn’t stop. 

“—he’s scared, damnit!” 

“. . .gotta happen—“ 

A sob fell from his mouth, wet and desperately confused as he was undressed, but his limbs continued to be maneuvered and his clothes were pulled from him despite his weak struggles. Ben’s voice came back, gentle, pleading to be understood, but Markus couldn’t understand, and he didn’t want this to happen again. Please, Lucien, no, stop, stopstopstop, nooo. . . 

“—sorry, ba— “ 

“—in the water. . .“ 

Markus almost lost being picked up to his fear, the swooping of his stomach causing a tight swallow behind the mask as his head lolled against a broad shoulder, body limp.  

The second his skin touched cold water, however, he became a live wire, arching away with a hoarse cry and a splash as one of his flailing limbs caught the liquid. No matter how hard he struggled, however, his fever weakened frame didn’t have the strength to fight back properly, and he was inexorably lowered into the freezing water. 

His hoarse cries turned into weak whimpers as he started shivering so hard that his teeth chattered, but there was no mercy to be found as a second pair of hands joined the first, holding his legs under the water as a big hand was placed over his chest, keeping him from sitting up. Markus tried to weakly pry it off, but ended up just holding on to that thick wrist, his fingers pulling at it with pleading that turned into raspy coughs. 

“. . .keep him still, Kin—“ 

“—not cold—“ 

“You’re okay—“ 

“—ght here, ba—“ 

The hand on the nape of his neck, keeping him from sliding completely into the water, was inconsequential compared to the misery he was suffering, but it was gentle, a thumb brushing back and forth just under his ear in a soothing caress. 

He didn’t know how long it took, but, eventually, the teeth chattering shivers settled into weak, body aching trembling, his breaths transforming from tight, hitching gasps into shuddering sighs. The fight to get free, to get out of the water, quieted, and he was peripherally aware of the fact that the hands on his legs went away, that his lungs had opened, and he was able to get more air that didn’t escape into painful coughing. 

The low roar of his pulse in his ears separated from the quiet, soothing reverberation of a deep voice in his ear, starting to make sense again as his brain was removed from the broiling pan. “—’s okay, sweet guy, not much longer,” the voice, that Markus was dimly realizing belonged to Kincaid, murmured, “your temperature’s going down, you’re gonna feel so much better soon, I promise.” Sluggishly, Markus forced his eyelids up to half-mast, glassy eyes looking up at Kincaid as he tried to pull himself from the soupy mire of his feverish mind. He could feel the oxygen mask still over his face, taste albuterol and whatever else Ben had mixed together for him, and he wanted out of the water. 

Kincaid’s red rimmed, honeyed eyes met his, and the bigger man gave an anemic smile, leaning down so Markus didn’t have to struggle to see him against the bright backdrop of the bathroom light. “Hey, sweet guy, there you are.” The hand over his chest lifted from the water with an unsteady pitter patter of droplets, and Markus slightly leaned into the other man’s touch as those wet knuckles brushed over his cheek. 

“Nnn. . .’s cold. . . “ he groaned, swallowing with a dry click, eyes closing again with fatigue.  

“I know, but your temp was way too high,” Kincaid murmured, dragging his knuckles down Markus’s cheek again, “just a little longer, and we’ll get you out of the tub and into something comfortable, okay?” 

Markus nodded, just barely an incline of his head, realizing that at some point he must have let go of Kincaid because he was fully submerged in the water, his hands floating at his sides, and he was completely dependent on the other witch to keep from drowning in the tub. He didn’t think he would have the energy to pull himself from the water, and that should have scared him, but instead he felt safe with Kincaid holding him out of the water. With the gentle touch to his face.

 His brow furrowed when he couldn’t feel Kincaid though, foggy eyes opening back up to look around with confusion. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Kincaid asked, still hovering over him, worry lines prominent over his face. 

He took a deep, wheezing breath, trying to get enough oxygen to be heard through the mask, trying to look around more, gaze unfocused, anxiety spiking as he realized he could feel his magic but nothing else. “. . . can’t. . . can’t feel. . . “ 

“Shhhh,” Kincaid soothed, cupping Markus’s cheek and guiding his gaze back, “we had to put the dampeners on, okay? You were fighting us pretty hard.” His face crumpled a little bit, before firming, his thumb brushing under Markus’s eye. “We didn’t want something to happen on accident, we’ll take ‘em off later, okay?” 

The dampeners made sense. Deanna had made them when he was in the hospital, too weak to have free rein of using his magic without hurting himself or other people if he happened to lash out in fear. Too exhausted to protest, Markus breathed out a hum of acknowledgement and closed his eyes as the door to the bathroom opened. 

“How’s it going?” Ben whispered as he padded closer. 

“Woke up a second ago, seemed a lot clearer. Think it’s about time he got out of the tub?” 

“Lemme check his temp first,” Ben answered. A few seconds later something rolled over his forehead to his temple with a small beep, but Markus didn’t care what it was, still shivering in the cool water, hot tears starting to slip down his cheeks again. I want out. . . ’s so cold. . . please, Ben. . . 

“Okay, 101.5, that’s a lot better. Thank god, let’s get him out of the tub. Markus, are you awake, baby?” 

He opened his eyes again, looking blearily up at Ben, nodding lethargically. “Mmn. . .”  

Ben smiled softly at him, leaning over him with his hand splayed over the wall, his t-shirt dark in places with water splashes and hair sticking up in a wild array. “Hey there, Bambi,” he said, “you look a lot better than you did earlier, that’s for sure. We’re gonna get you settled, okay?” 

Markus nodded again, trying to gather his limbs to get himself out of the tub. He was shaky now, kitten weak, but he could move. His hands, however, were slippery on the tile, and god, he was sore all over. 

“I gotcha,” Kincaid murmured, gathering him up under the shoulders and knees despite the fact that he was going to get sopping wet, “you don’t gotta worry about doing anything, okay?”

Markus whined as he was picked up, the pathetic noise making him feel ashamed no matter how exhausted he was, but the air was like icy sleet against his skin, and he turned his face into the other man’s shoulder. He was sat on the counter, refusing to move his face from the refuge he’d found in Kincaid’s warmth. The oxygen mask was digging into his nose, but he didn’t care. He’d gotten used to the damn things when he was in the hospital, and no matter that the albuterol taste had largely dissipated from the oxygen he was breathing, it still evoked enough memories for him to both be comforted with the fact that he could breathe and freaked out by the fact that he was having to wear one again. The memories of being helpless, unable to take care of himself, yo-yoing with getting sick and getting better, again and again. 

He hated this. 

Gently, Ben dried him while Kincaid served as a leaning post, keeping him secure with a hand on the back of his neck and back. The towel was soft on his skin, and he would normally be self conscious of the still vivid scars over his torso, over the fact that he was naked and hadn’t removed his own clothes. 

But he was too tired to even pretend to give a shit. 

Now that the fever had lessened, he was comfortable with these two men helping him, taking care of him. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen all of him before, helping him with hygiene in the hospital, with physical therapy. It wasn’t like he could really do it himself right then, either. 

Markus wrapped his arms around Kincaid’s neck at his gentle prompting, and Kincaid picked him up to his feet, one arm wrapped around his back and the other firmly on his hip. “Lift your foot, bud,” he murmured. They both helped him dress. Ben knelt by his feet and pulled the sweats up his trembling legs until Markus was encased in the warm, soft material, the waistline loose around his hips. When they pulled one of his warm flannels over his arms, Markus realized he was wearing a pair of Ben’s sweats, a pair that he’d commented looked like they were made of clouds. 

“Hmm. . . “ he smiled weakly, half-lidded eyes looking at Ben, “y’rem’bered.” 

Ben grinned, pushing Markus’s towel dried hair out of his face as Kincaid breathed out a laugh as he bent to scoop Markus off of the floor. “Figured being sick was a good opportunity to see if you thought they were as soft as you’d expected.” “. . .s’soft,” he hummed, turning his head back into the crook of Kincaid’s neck. 

“Good, baby, I’m really glad.” 

By the time Markus was laid down on something soft, he was mostly asleep in Kincaid’s arms. With the fever down, his body was crying out for rest, for sleep. But when Kincaid moved away, he whimpered, eyes still closed and reaching for him. 

“Shhh, sweet guy,” the bigger man soothed, kissing him gently on the forehead, “we’re not going anywhere. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

“‘kay. . .” he whispered, breath slowing as he fell closer to sleep, barely aware that a blanket was draped over him. He was safe; they wouldn’t leave him alone. 

Markus wasn’t going to be alone again. 

The low rumble of Ben and Kincaid’s voices in the apartment soothed him, made him settle, and, calm sleep stealing over him. He was pulled out of it a short time later when a large hand smoothed over his hair, soft lips on his forehead. He made a low sound of acknowledgement, but he didn’t open his eyes, until he heard Ben’s huffed chuckle. 

The other man was in a fresh, dry set of lounge clothes, kneeling in front of what he realized was the couch. Kincaid sat on the coffee table, also in fresh, soft clothes, leaning forward with a complicated mix of concern and warm appreciation for the scene in front of him. 

“D’you want us to stay with you, Bambi?” Ben asked, voice sotto, his long fingers softly brushing through Markus’s hair. 

Blinking was a chore Markus wasn’t interested in, and he let his eyes slide closed, licking his lips and taking a deep breath of that damp, humid air before giving his answer. “....please...”

“Alright, sweetheart,” Ben responded, kissing him on the forehead. Carefully, he and Kincaid settled onto the couch next to him, his head in Ben’s lap and his legs in Kincaid’s. The flash of the tv soaked through his eyelids, the murmur of voices and the occasional smattering of a laugh track pressing into his doze, but Markus didn’t think he’d been this comfortable while sick since he was a child. 

The last think he heard, before sleep fully claimed him, was, “Joey doesn’t share food!” 

[aprilqueen84]

Six Sentence Sunday

A/N: Happy Sunday everyone! So for the past week I have been apart of a November Writing Challenge over on the CS discord I’m apart of and today’s goal is to post six sentences of a wip. So here is six sentences of the next chapter of “A Tail as Old As Time!”

Tag List:  @hollyethecurious​, @resident-of-storybrooke​, @kmomof4​, @jennjenn615​, @pirateherokillian​, @enchanted-swans​, @superchocovian​, @deathbycaptainswan​, @winterbaby89​, @flicialy23​, @kingofmyheart14​, @angellifedeath, @facesiousbutton82​, @a-faekindagirl​, @kymbersmith-90​, @ekr032-blog-blog​, @laschatzi​, @teamhook​, @ilovemesomekillianjones​, @capswantrue​, @bmbbcs4evr​, @kday426​, @tiganasummertree​,, @Ifh1226-linda, @meganhinsley​, @xarandomdreamx​, @jrob64, @hannahhook7744​, @klynn-stormz​, @yourebeautifuleverylilpiecelove, @therooksshiningknight, @earanemith​, @snowbellewells​, @motherkatereyloshipper, @emmythedaydreamer​, @quirkykayleetam​, @onceuponsomechaos​

Chapter 4. 

They sat there in silence for what seemed like forever until Killian finally spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Emma frowned as she turned to face him. “For what?” she said curiously.

“For not doing a better job at keeping Pan away from you,” he said regretfully.

Emma reached out and rested her hand on his hook. “Kilian. It wasn’t your fault. I think we were both a bit naive to believe that Pan wouldn’t have found out about us meeting,” she said softly.

[straight-to-the-pain]

2020

The Rules: Tag five or more people that you’re thankful for in your 2020, that you’re grateful exist in a world that’s hard to live in, whether that be through random reblogs on your posts, or people you’ve had full blown conversations with. Whether it’s just seeing them on your dash, or interacting with them. 

I know that I’m a little late to the game but my holiday tree is still up and the year has only just begun, and I would like to take the opportunity to show my gratitude for all those who made 2020 as good as it could be given the circumstances. I actually didn’t even have a diary for 2020 and I will admit that the year has passed in a haze of brain fog, but there have definitely been highlights. I want to say that I appreciate all my followers and all the people who put glorious whump content on my dash every day! You’re all great, and there’s no way I could include everyone I wanted to in a single post, so if you’re wondering if I mean you, the person reading this, I do <3

Thank you so much to @softsharpdaydreams, @whump-txt, @whatgoeswhumpinthenight, @empathetic-whumper, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @pretty-thoughts-and-a-pen, @sola-whumping, @hearse-song, @whump-it, @forthetaintedsorrow-whump, @whuh-oh-whump, @whumpfish, @whumpforthewhumpgod, @sideblogformindtrash, @goosewhumps, @bloodyfeverdreams for tagging me in your posts! I am sending that love right back at all of you! (And if I missed someone, I do apologise, because tumblr likes to hide notifications from me)

So here goes: @thewhumpstuff, @lettuceknighted, @beckstriad, @sopwithwhump, @whumpstash, @punchhimagain and all the regulars of whump writing central, hanging out with you has been the highlight of my year and I don’t know what I would have done without you. You’re all wonderful people, with amazing whump ideas and I am so glad that I got to meet you!

@pretty-face-breaker: your writing is always so evocative and gives me all the whumperflies, I love the messed up power dynamics between Nick and Hayko and even though I bully him a lot, I think Nick is a great whumper and I’m really enjoying RPing with him!

@pythagoreanwhump: I’m still not entirely convinced that you aren’t a chinese spy but it’s fine because I would willingly tell you my secrets :’) the VMD would straight up not exist without you and I love hearing about all your characters and the questionable things they get up to. Thank you for introducing me to a bunch of shows and films that I have fallen in love with, for doing linguistics puzzles and writing codes with me, and having an impeccable taste in whump.

@quirkykayleetam: where would I be without you? You are a literal ray of sunshine and you always fill me with so much joy and hope. I love brainstorming whump ideas with you and talking about anything and everything, and I’m really happy for all the wonderful things happening in your life <3

@sableflynn: my favourite lady whump lover! I love being able to share my hot takes with you and knowing that you’ll back me up ;) I promise to provide you with some mean man stronk lady content in this coming year, because you definitely deserve it. Thank you for organising a wonderful gift exchange and running such a friendly and welcoming server!

@a-whump-muffin: you write my favourite box boy story and I really enjoyed getting to talk to you over the past year! I adore the richness in your plot and your characters and how thought out the universe is, and your writing is just a joy to read.

@greatandquestionablecontent: I’m so glad that I got to start talking and RPing with you last year (even if I did forget to reply for months all while thinking it was your turn oopsies). Your characters are all really fun and interesting and I love hearing about them and interacting with them. Also, you are super talented at making playlists because the one you made me is still the main one that I listen to and was really the sound of my 2020!

@paininmyheart-imalive: you were quite possibly the first person I properly talked to on this platform, and I know that we might not interact a ton but I want you to know that you mean a lot to me and I’m really grateful that you reached out to me!

I know that it’s impossible for me to tag everyone who I want to tag, so please don’t feel left out if you don’t see your blog name here! This community on tumblr has been my main form of social interaction this past year, and I really don’t know where I would be if I didn’t have this space so I am eternally grateful for all the people who make that possible and interact with my content, all of you!!! Here’s to a brighter 2021!

[justbreakonme]

Hey y’all, I know I haven’t posted anything from Abby and Sky for a long time. I sorta wrote myself into a corner because I hadn’t planned for it to be as popular as it was. However, I’m not in a better situation to do more writing and was thinking about writing a full version of the Abby and Sky story. In this though, I would have to rewrite some of the beginning. I wouldn’t change huge things, just some individual small events, but I wanted to get y’all’s opinion on it first. Did anything stand out in particular that you liked that you would be disappointed if it got left out? And if I made mood boards or collages, would that be something y’all would be interested in too? Tagging @httyd-chocolate @mortiferum-solanum @comfortforthepain @whumpywhumper @whumping-every-day @degeneration-fest @whatwasmyprevioususername @albarnesauthor @panickedscorpio @theawesomeawkward @secrettheoristofwhump @robinshouseofwhump @0idril0 @inpainandsuffering @genesissane @lilyvonpseudonym @latenightcupsofcoffee @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @lionhxartxd-blog @quirkykayleetam @whale-intestines @fallingstormphoenix @gnawingonhumanbones @maraudersmarvelwhump @haro-whumps @slam-whump @whump-my-dude @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @thatsthewhump @theladyoffaragon @kyra-plays @broadwaybowser @adventuresofacreesty @pennsss If I missed anyone let me know, or if you would like to be tagged!)