#ritual whump

[dokidokisadness]

I've never actually made a full on whumper characters, like, with a well writen story and personality. Usually I just make it an accident and make a caretaker lol.

Also I picture this being set in medieval japan, but I haven't decided which period exactly...? Like, I initially though about it bening set in taishou period (like demon slayer), but most people associate youkai with sengoku and edo period, but also if it's just all made up It would probably be easier, yet unprecise... so uh...

here goes nothing...

Kouji

(not so sure of that name yet)

29 years old

He is a very gentle temple keeper. everybody knows and loves him! it's quite a small village, so despite his shyness and clumsyness he manages to maintain a great relationship with everyone, especially after he restored the local temple.

People's impression:

initially everyone thought he looked dangerous, a pretty tough guy, but turns out he is just a silly guy.

People usually ask him to help them with big heavy things.

kids love it when he picks them up, but he doesn't do it very often, since he is always busy caring for them temple.

most animals fear him, probably because of his size.

job:

temple keeper

he runs a small temple and performs some rituals to keep oni and youkai away, mostly.

origins:

One day he just showed up at the old temple. Rumors are that he escaped an youkai attack at some nearby village.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Hanzō

(also not sure about the name :/)

(click on read more, uncensored version)

23... 26... uh...??? years old (youkai year counting?)

A (half) dragon youkai kept sealed under the temple, it's been a while since he saw the daylight, or moonlight... His blood and tears are often used in rituals at the temple, but most people don't know it... Oddly enough, He doesn't seem to complain.

people's impression:

Hanzō has only been seen a few times by even fewer people, mostly the rich and powerfull, to prove the temple's magic is legit.

the ones who saw him were suspicious at first, but the looking closely at the tongue, tail and horns it's undoubtfull.

he isn't seen as person, more like a product or cattle.

job:

his blood, tears, teeth, tongue, etc... are used in rituals at the temple (but I wouldn't call that a job lmao).

origins:

his mother was a very powerfull youkai, but his father was a human man.

both humans and youkais would constantly hunt him, but he always managed to get away. One day however, things were diferent... he hadn't had food in the last 8 days, his ankle was twisted, it was the begining of the winter, he was already weak... but he thought he could get at least something to eat from a human house, Kouji's house.

when Hanzou isn't being used in rituals he is just Kouji's doll/punching bag...

[cuteangsty]

Youkai Temple (pilot)

Based on this post

(so I was working on these characters for a while and I managed to write a little story. I kinda plan on making more, but I'm not sure of everything so I'm calling this s pilot chapter)

Hanzō is nothing. He is nothing. It is nothing. Koji always regarded him as such. Yet something about him... His struggles, his whining and, of course the teary smile that came afterwards... There's something rather captivating about him, almost like a clueless child, he is never thinking about the pain, it seems. Kouji loves that.

Everyday, from the moment Kouji wakes up, he can't stop thinking about his scheduled time with the half-youkai. The few workers at the temple thank and greet him for being brave enough to tame such creature, "if only they new how easy it is to subjugate the lowly creature underneath" he thinks as he makes his way to Hanzō's room, through the tiny hallways sculpted on the soil. The few curious keepers caught walking through such long hallways were immediately stopped by Kouji who warned them about the terrible beast, his warnings made them all too afraid of even reaching the end of the hallway .The door was quite underwhelming, however. A small door made out of many rather thick bamboo planks, making it quite heavy, though, not impossible to open, especially for a youkai. In the middle of the de ladoor, lied a small paper sticker with a prayer written. Definitely not the heavy, think metal door covered with seals that Kouji had told everyone about.

Once Kouji gets there, he is greeted with muffled groans. Eyes and mouth covered with a cloth tied behind the head, the hands were chained together on its back, the left ankle is chained to the wall behind it and the right ankle was twisted in a weird way. The as àeso feared beast kouji had tamed was nothing but a malnutrished boy. It rocked back qnd forth occasionally, probably a calming stim, Kouji thought. There were no tears yet, since all of the still bleeding awounds weren't new, the latest one being 5 teeth cozocppremoved two days ago, 2 from the back left, 1 from the back right and the last 2 on the front. That's what I pullKouji was here to see, the follow ups of the recovery, not that he cared for the youkai's health, his 'care' was more utilitary than anything. He needed him to grow his teeth baqHtck and heal the wounds for his body to be used in the next rituals to come.

Kouji kneeled down reaching the youkai's level and looming over it, with a quick and indelicate move he pulls the bloody rag out of it's mouth and forces it open. It groans loudly, squirming, the cloth blindfolding his eyes wet with new tears of pain. Kouji moves his head around a little checking everything. "Ssshhh it's okay" kouji shushes as he uses one hand to rubs his fingers on the growing teeth and the other to rub the youkai's matted hair. His temperature was warm. Hot even, too hot for someone who lives at a mossy cold basement. It was clear Hanzō had a fever, more over, there was an infection on one tooth in the back, at this point it was probably hallucinating, not that he cared. Youkai usually manage to heal themselves on their own, it only took some time and food and the boy ate yesterday, so this problem was basically solved. The infection didn't seem big, although there's the threat of spreading, it wasn't likely, not concern him nowz not for a youkai.

The more he stroked it's hair the more the boy seemed to calm down under his hand, Hanzō gasps and whimpers with a pained yet genuine smile. "So fucking sick, aren't you?" Kouji mocked holding it by the neck. Such a pleasant view. "You don't even know what's happening, and yet you smile at me...that's why I love you, you know?" he laughs, finishing the examination. "You're fine. The fever must go down once the teeth are fully grown." Kouji throws it back to the floor and ties the cloth back in it's mouth. He gets up and leaves without even glancing back.

Kouji gets back to the temple and starts the preparations announcing the next ritua. His words are simple, but very clear to the keepers, already used to his manger of speaking.

"Soon. We'll have a blood ritual. Just keeping things calm around here."

Soon.

[whump-captain]

A summoning won't succeed if the vessel is not empty

[ID in alt, click for better quality]

[whumpsday]

Power Play

Writing Masterlist

content: kidnapping, ritual sacrifice, begging, hand whump, impalement, mouth whump, knives/skin carving, demon whumper, creepy whumper, major character death, gore

this is my piece for @zineofgid !! this was such an awesome project to work on :)

you can still buy the guys in distress zine here! proceeds go to the charity RAINN. there are limited physical copies and unlimited digital copies, as well as some merch left. do keep in mind that while my piece is sfw, this is an 18+ zine and a lot of other contributors' pieces are very much NOT sfw!

this piece was done as part of a collaboration with @whump-queen, with ocs we made together! he made art that accompanies this piece, you can view it here! it depicts the end of the story so you might wanna wait til after you read it though if you care about spoilers (also linked at the end)

-

Jonah’s breaths came hard and fast as Reese dumped him out of the large duffle bag, onto the cold floor of his basement.

He immediately tried to struggle to his feet, but his wrists and ankles had been bound with way too many layers of duct tape, making it impossible. Reese easily kicked him to the floor, placing a boot firmly on his chest and keeping him there.

“Ah-ah-ah.” his captor tutted, ripping the tape off his mouth. “I’m sorry to say that you will never see outside this room again.”

“You’re crazy!” Jonah screamed, unable to keep the terror out of his voice. His heart hammered in his chest, right under Reese’s boot.

“You have been messing with my campaign.” Reese countered, as if kidnapping was equivalent to Jonah doing his damn job. “Arnett didn’t start climbing in the polls until she brought you on as manager.” He dug his boot in deeper, making it a little hard for Jonah to breathe, pressing his bound wrists painfully into the floor under his back.

Despite admittedly-minimal efforts to retain his composure, Jonah found himself trembling. “So, what? You’re going to- kill me?”

There was no way he could fight this man off. Reese was bigger and stronger than him; it was pathetic how little he’d been able to struggle when Reese had initially incapacitated him. Now he was bound with tape and at an even bigger disadvantage. The thought that he could really die here blared through his mind like a siren, urging him to do whatever he could to escape, as if there was anything he could do.

“Not exactly. I’m not going to kill you.” Reese finally stepped off Jonah’s chest, only to kick him over and press a knee into his back instead. “Don’t mistake this as petty vengeance. I needed someone, and you happened to be an enticing target.”

It was only then, staring across the floor instead of at the ceiling, that Jonah noticed his surroundings.

A large pentagram, easily five feet, laid painted red in the center of the room, a hammer and nails set next to it.

“What the fuck?” he whispered in cold horror.

“Thanks to you, it’s clear that a good, honest campaign by a good, honest man isn’t enough to make it in politics. Luckily, there are other ways to get ahead in life, if you do enough research,” Reese explained, like it made perfect sense.

“Is that blood?” Jonah asked, voice small, staring at the red of the pentagram painted meticulously into the floor.

“It is. My very own.”

Jonah’s line of questioning was instantly interrupted when felt the side of a blade against his forearm.

He writhed, his struggles renewed. “Get away from me with that thing!”

“Hold still, or I might nick you. You want that tape off, don’t you?” Reese leaned down. Jonah could feel his breath on the back of his neck as Reese’s knee pressed further into his lower back.

Jonah went still, barring the tremors he couldn’t control. As much as he hated to admit it, Reese was right: aimlessly moving around with a knife millimeters from his skin would only get him hurt. He didn’t resist as he felt steel slide harmlessly against him, the layers of tape cut away and peeled off.

Before he could even think about running, Reese grabbed both his newly-freed hands and dragged him over to the pentagram. Jonah started struggling again, but there was little he could do against the iron grip.

Reese pointed to one of the triangles making up the pentagram. “You will kneel or I will make you kneel.”

He didn’t know what else to do, and pissing off his captor seemed like a recipe for disaster, so he knelt as indicated.

Reese bound one hand to Jonah’s body with more tape, bringing the other to a point of the pentagram. He pressed Jonah’s palm against the star’s tip, stepping firmly against his wrist to hold it there.

“Now, stay nice and still.”

Reese picked up the hammer and one of the nails.

“What are you doing?!” Jonah tried to pull his hand away, but Reese just pressed his boot down harder.

“What I said. Just making sure you stay still.” Reese positioned the nail in the center of Jonah’s hand, the sharp tip pricking at his skin. Jonah’s breath grew rapid in anticipation of what was about to happen to him.

“Wait, don’t, don’t don’t no no no-!”

Pain exploded in his hand as the THWACK of the hammer hit the nail and pierced his skin, and Jonah finally screamed. He tried again to pull his hand away, to pull his whole body away, but it was useless. He was trapped.

“Stop! Stop stop stop, you’re crazy!” he cried, tears spilling over and running down his face. The nail settled on the floor’s surface, just barely poking through the tender skin of his palm from the inside, making its way through muscle and ligaments and tendons.

“You can think what you like. Doesn’t matter to me,” Reese commented nonchalantly.

The hammer came down again. Jonah’s second scream was less intense than the first, as if his voice itself were scared, breaking off into a sob. A few more taps left the nail buried snugly in the floor, the head resting against the back of his hand as a bit of blood escaped from under it.

Jonah panted hard, adrenaline coursing through him. His hand wouldn’t move from where it sat fastened to the pentagram even after Reese removed his boot from his wrist: even twitching his fingers sent a horrible jolt through it.

“Good job, you’re doing very well.” Reese praised, patting Jonah on the head. “And now, the other one.”

“NO!” Jonah cried. “Stop! You have to stop!”

“Shh, it’s okay.” The sheer calm Reese talked about it with sent shivers down his spine. “It’ll all be over soon.”

Reese freed his uninjured hand, and Jonah clutched it protectively to his chest, shaking. “Leave me alone,” he begged tearily.

His captor grabbed his hand and brought it to the opposite point of the pentagram, stretching him out painfully and forcing his head and chest to the ground. Much to his dismay, Reese stepped down on his other wrist and readied the hammer and nails again.

Jonah strained his neck to look up at Reese, desperate. “What do you want? I’ll quit, okay? I’ll stop running Arnett’s campaign, you’ll never see me again. Just stop.”

“Oh, Jonah. Like I said, I needed someone. It just happened to be you.” Reese started on the other hand. No matter how much he screamed, it wouldn’t stop. Unlike the first nail, which seemed to slip in between his bones, this one landed right on top of the small, delicate bones inside his hand and smashed through them uncaring, the pain blinding.

Jonah was a mess by this point, sobbing into the floor. “I don’t wanna die like this,” he sniffled.

Reese cupped his face. “Look at it this way. You’re dying for something bigger than yourself. More powerful. Now, I think that’s about enough complaining out of you.”

The grip on his face grew tighter and tighter, fingers pressing tightly into the sides of his jaw, until Jonah was forced to open his mouth. Reese grabbed his tongue and pulled it, touching it to the center of the pentagram. Even among the throbbing pain in his hands and the horrifying situation, Jonah’s face crinkled in disgust.

Reese grabbed another nail.

Jonah’s disgust was immediately forgotten, replaced by overwhelming terror. He tried fruitlessly to shake his head away, making what little terrified noises of protest he could manage, as Reese settled the tip of the nail against his tongue.

A whine of fear escaped him, and he looked up at his captor pleadingly. Please don’t do this.

“Just try to relax,” Reese advised, as if it was at all possible.

The hammer slammed against the head of the nail, sending it straight through Jonah’s tongue and into the floor. Jonah wailed with intolerable pain, hot tears slipping down his cheeks, no longer able to form pleas. All he could taste was his own fresh blood, running over Reese’s painted on the floor.

Reese gave it a few more firm taps until the head of the nail almost crushed Jonah’s tongue under it, undeterred by Jonah’s cries.

“There we go.” Reese disappeared from Jonah’s tear-blurry line of sight. A moment later, he felt the side of the knife against the back of his neck. He squealed in distress, unable to even thrash against his bonds anymore.

But the knife didn’t plunge into him. Instead, it glided downward to the sound of tearing fabric until Jonah’s shirt fell limply in front of him. Reese ran a hand over his exposed back, Jonah’s tense muscles shuddering under the touch.

“This is the final step.” Jonah jolted as best he could in his immobilized state as he felt the tip of the knife between his shoulderblades- not digging in yet, but threatening to.

“Nghh!” Jonah couldn’t say much else with his tongue nailed down. He couldn’t even shake his head. Nothing he could do to indicate NO would be enough here, anyway. Reese didn’t care for his opinion.

He screamed as the knife buried itself in flesh, not deep enough to touch bone, but far from shallow. It glided along his back in a sweeping stroke, before Reese lifted it and picked a new spot to carve into him, no matter how much he cried and tried to writhe away from the sharp, insistent pain.

Slice after bold, swirling slice, Reese painted a pattern in the splitting of his skin, spending the most time on an intricate design between his shoulder blades. Jonah was pretty sure it was supposed to be an eye, but he was too hazy with agony and blood loss to tell.

Finally, Reese pulled the knife away from his mangled back. “There, all done. Soon you won’t even feel it.”

Jonah could only sob in response, trembling from pain and fear. Everything hurt. His entire body felt like it had been through a paper shredder. He could feel the blood running off the sides of his back and pooling beneath his folded-up legs, soaking his knees.

He watched as Reese lit candles in a circle around him, painting the room in a warm glow, and began chanting in a language Jonah couldn’t understand- Latin, maybe? What a pointless thing to die for. What would happen to him when none of this worked and no demon showed up? Would Reese concede and let him go? Probably not. Jonah imagined the knife plunging into his chest, the last thing he ever saw the face of his murderer. At least the pain would stop.

Slowly, as Reese chanted, The sigil carved into Jonah’s back began to burn.

Just a little at first, but getting hotter and hotter until Jonah was writhing in pain, trying to free his hands despite the nails holding them in place and hurting worse and worse the more he tugged on them. What was happening to him? It felt like someone had run boiling oil through the gashes in his skin. It was unbearable. He needed it to stop. Jonah squeezed his eyes closed, releasing a sound akin to a dying animal at the excruciating pain.

When he opened his eyes… a figure stood in front of him, half-materialized, like it was creating itself out of thin air. The warm orange glow of the candles began to shift to a cold, too-bright violet.

He strained his eyes up to see, the angle much less than ideal with his tongue bolted to the floor. He wasn’t sure if that was the reason they looked so massive, or if they really were abnormally tall, but a glance at Reese for comparison proved it to be the latter.

Everything about them looked unnatural, all bright colors that might mark a plant or animal as toxic, screaming at his nailed-down body to run. Glowing fuschia markings slithered all over their skin, the pattern looking suspiciously like the one Jonah could feel carved into his back. A giant scorpion-like tail snaked out from behind them.

Jonah stared up at the- the demon, apparently. As their form became more solid, Jonah’s back burned less and less, the only thing he could possibly be thankful for in this moment.

The demon eyed him back threefold, an impossibly-wide grin full of sharp teeth splitting their six-eyed face. Jonah couldn’t help but whimper under their gaze.

“Izuloth!” Reese shouted, suddenly seeming so much less intimidating compared to the monstrosity before him.

Izuloth broke eye contact to direct their attention to him, their smile faltering and their eyebrow twitching with annoyance. Several of their eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I’ve summoned you! I’ve captured a sacrifice, carved your sigil, drawn this pentagram in my own blood. You will now grant me power, as promised,” Reese declared confidently.

The smile returned. “Awfully presumptuous, human. I don’t remember promising anything.”

“What- what are you talking about?” Reese sputtered. “That’s what it said in the book! You are now under my control!”

Izuloth smirked. “Oh, is that what it said. That was nice of them to put in there. Makes fools like you much more likely to summon me. Hm, I don’t think I care for your attitude, though.”

They snapped their fingers.

Jonah watched in horror as Reese’s body began to unravel in front of him. Skin peeled from muscle, exposing raw, bloody flesh and piling on the floor below in a wet heap that splashed Jonah’s face with blood- he could taste it on his outstretched tongue.

Reese tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle as his tongue joined the rest of his exposed muscles in shredding to bits, as if taken to on all sides, inside and out, with an invisible cheese grater. It was over within a minute: the remnants of his body collapsed to the floor, twitching with life for only a moment before going still.

Jonah was alone with Izuloth.

He whined in terror, too frozen to even try tugging at his restraints. If the demon could do that, it wouldn’t be any use anyway.

Izuloth, to his dismay, turned their attention back to him. “Now, where were we?”

They reached a hand down to pet his hair. Jonah squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body tensed up in anticipation.

Suddenly, Izuloth grabbed his hair and pulled. Jonah’s eyes flew right back open as his tongue ripped right out of the nail, bisecting it down the middle with an agonizing tear. His scream of pain cut short when Izuloth grabbed him by the frayed end of his tongue, their many-eyed face inches away.

“Pretty thing, I think I’ll keep you.”

-

ART BY AKIA WHUMP-QUEEN!!!

-

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

one-shots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthisiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

[questions-about-blorbos]

This question was sent to our inbox and we made a separate poll in response to it. If you want to put your Blorbo in a situation of your choice and see if people think they’ll survive, send your Blorbo and the situation in which you want to see them to our inbox and we’ll post a poll for you! (For more information, check our pinned post.)

[whump-queen]

~Power play~ a ritual gone horribly wrong

Finally! Here’s my art piece for @zineofgid ~ a collab with @whumpsday with ocs we made together <3 Mill wrote an amazing story to go with this piece: read it here!!

(tags: kidnapping, ritual sacrifice, impalement, demon whumper, mouth whump, knives/skin carving, major character death, gore)

You can still buy the guys in distress zine here ~ proceeds go to the charity RAINN. (heads up that while my piece is sfw, this is an 18+ zine and many other contributors' pieces are not)

[Tags below]

❈

General whump taglist: @whumpshaped  @whumpsday  @emmettnet   @a-whump-sideblog  @whump-it-like-its-hot  @wolfeyedwitch  @whumper-soot @unorganisedalienrubbish  @hidden-dreamland @whumpedydump @lonesome--hunter @ashh-ed @whump-in-the-closet @oriantthegiant @banditosong @anonymustyou @feralwhump @jieunie-23 @whumpasaurus101 @morning-star-whump @whmp @captain-bo-bob-bobby @the-beasts-have-arrived @spooky-scary-vampires @burningkittypoet @veyroswin @painsandconfusion @skittles-the-whumpee

Art tag: @burntcoffeewhump

[serickswrites]

It’s a Wonderful Life

Warnings: restraints, fire, threat of death, ritual sacrifice

Whumpee strained against the ropes that kept them to the post. They had to get out of here and fast. 

The cult members had finished piling bundles and bundles of sticks and kindling at Whumpee’s feet. They had stepped off the platform and turned to their leader, eyes filled with delight and awe. 

Whumper stepped forward, torch in hand. “Now, my children, behold, the ancient ritual of burning the logs for Yule.”

Whumpee continued their struggles, but decided perhaps now was the time to try and sway someone, anyone, to stop this madness. “The druids didn’t sacrifice people for Yule.”

Whumper stopped advancing. “What was that?”

Whumpee swallowed as they continued to try to free their hands. “The druids. That’s who you’re emulating. They didn’t sacrifice people for Yule. It was a celebration. It would be an affront to the ancient peoples if you did this.”

Whumpee could see a few cult members frown at their words. They had a chance. “If anything, we should be feasting, celebrating. You don’t want to burn me alive for the wrong thing.” If they could get someone to free them. Or distract Whumper long enough, Caretaker and the others would be here. And then they would be safe.

Whumper frowned. “Yes, we are celebrating the joyous holiday. And nothing better than to keep the eternal flame going that you, Whumpee.” And Whumper dropped the torch onto the pile of kindling. 

[doublegoblin]

I'd like to hear about . . .

💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?

☀️ Sun - What's your favorite part of your WIP?

🔥 Wildfire - Who is your most emotional character and why?

Well howdily doodily! I love a chance to speak about my baby Rituals and Red Tape

💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?

So I have a couple answers for this one. First I would say the one where I was the most emotional was in a story I posted during pride month about my two little husbands first meeting. All I'll say is that when i was writing it I was channeling the spirit of the Ur-14 year old crackfic writer (affectionate). As for the one with the most character emotions I'd have to say the biggish blow up Peter had in Rituals and Red Tape (whatever the most recent chapter I posted on here was lol I think 10).

I'll be a little sneaky and say the most emotional scene is still yet to come, and if I am able to build it up right...it's gonna be a doozy for everyone involved!

☀️ Sun - What's your favorite part of your WIP?

It's a toss up. On the one hand I am actually enjoying going back through the older chapters and getting them tonaly in line with the more recent stuff, expanding on stuff I put in as a place holder, and tweaking shit. I have a much clearer idea of what I want out of this. Also going through and seeing "Ope! I made some symbolism here I guess, gonna roll with it"

On the other hand, if we are talking about an actual part of scene; the big fight scene I had a couple chapters back with Alex Vs Giant Flesh lady. I found myself trying to action out the motions in real life (we have a squeegee we use to clean and I was trying to figure out how a giant hammer/mace would move using it). It was something I had been thinking about the entire lead up to it and I think it turned out really well!

That and the scene where Alex goes to speak with their boss Dave in his pocket dimension.

🔥 Wildfire - Who is your most emotional character and why?

Peter hands down. As for why? This dude is a fresh Dreamer like a freeeesh boy off the line. For a more literary reason, he is supposed to be a kind of foil for Alex (and maybe a tiiiiny audience stand it). A little scared barometer of the messed up horror aspects that Alex is so numb to at this point. And there is also a secret third thing that I won't talk about =P

thanks as always for the ask! Best of the day to ya and may writer's block not darken your door!

[goronska]

Follow the Shadow (choice #4)

CW: general NSFW/18+ (under the fold)

All the other eyes in the room are on you two. Unlike at school, you cannot say you are unprepared or await the best student from the first row to give you an answer quietly.

"First you subdue, then you cleanse" Opal says behind you matter-of-factly. And this is where you notice, your blurry vision focusing back on the man on the table, with his legs spread apart, that the zip in his dark tight pants goes all the way to the back.

And there is no way there could be any underwear there, it's just… too tight. 'Subdue, yeah? Damn right I am gonna subdue this mountain of muscles…' you think to yourself and you pull the flyer open aaaall the way. "Very good" he comments with the corner of his mouth, still motionless.

You don't look at others, but feeling their stares on you, there's no way you are going to get yourself up and stay erect. Absolutely not. You don't even try. You gather all your bravado, stand between the spread thighs and gritting you teeth, you spit out: "May Ubisi forgive you and no one else blames you" and you shove two of your fingers into his ass. One of the other trainees in the distance lets out a painful hiss, as if he was getting violated.

He doesn't even flinch, still looking apathetically, dissociated on the stone slab. "By the way, they call me Shadow" he just says, again, by the side of his mouth. After 2 seconds he adds in a very hushed tone "Move your hips, it will look more accurate, believable."

You are already weirded out by now, but you add a third finger - seeing him grimace for a moment, that gives you a boost of satisfaction - and move them in and out of his butt, to the rhythm of your pelvis swaying. Shadow's muscles tighten against you, but he's not as narrow as you would expect and definitely dry. Somehow that hunger for power that brought you here, takes root, shoots the first two delicate leaves of a sprout and will never leave you again.

In blind trance of push and pulls and the motionless guy at your mercy, you put your other hand in your pocket and take out a lighter. "R e p e n t!" it's not even your voice from your throat, it's somebody else speaking, way more curious than you, way more entertained. You subdued, he's at your mercy, now you cleanse.

It just takes a flick of your thumb to get the flickering flame on, someone gasps, but Shadow doesn't notice, he's there only in flesh, and you, you have his torso and stomach at your mercy. In an instant, you let the flame lick that happy trail of hair between his navel and dick.

They immidiately get consumed by flame and Shadow yanks himself away from you with a exasparated gasp. His glare could kill, Opal is rushing to you two.

[asidian]

Alright. It is time. Buckle up.

Why you should be watching Dead Boy Detectives: the targeted-specifically-at my-readers edition.

Meet the leads, our two ghost boys:

Edwin Payne: Fussy, repressed intellectual type from the Edwardian era. Exceedingly gay for his partner and best friend. Tortured in hell for seventy years on a technicality because he was ritually sacrificed as a prank gone wrong. Endearingly awful at people and dealing with emotions or his own wants.

Charles Rowland: Impulsive, people-pleasing wildcard from the 80s. Heart eyes 24/7 at his best friend but has zero self-awareness. Badly abused by his asshole of a father. Beaten to death because he saved a kid from bullies. Endearingly awful at sorting his own emotions or talking about his problems.

Some highlights:

/slaps hood you can fit so much trauma in these two

Both leads get sobbing breakdowns that happen on screen. The actors are incredible at crying

Both leads get much-needed hugs

The absolute devotion between the two of them. The shared history that lives in their dialogue and how they work together like people who have been each other's Most Important Person for literal decades

I mean, I'm talking in-canon Orpheus and Eurydice reference level of devotion here

The protective way Charles puts himself physically between Edwin and damn near every threat in the show

They're just fun together. Their interactions and banter and how they work as a team is a delight

Their shared plot arc literally involves them learning to talk to each other and communicate more so that they can be there for one another about their respective issues

The symbolism. God. They are metaphorically and literally one another's light in the darkness

But what about stuff that isn't the main duo? Just wait, there's more:

This show is unabashedly, unapologetically queer. It's there in the text and the subtext. The whole show lives and breathes it

So many good, complex, well-written female characters. The Bechdel test gets blown straight out of the water in episode one and they never look back. Headstrong amnesiac psychic learning to be a better person! Quirky meta commentary matchmaker! Cynical lesbian butcher! Delightfully sadistic witch! They are all amazing.

[audience voice] But I'm here for the hurt/comfort. How can I whump ghosts? Worry not, my friends. Canon has you covered. Not only are there ways, there are ways that happen on-screen. The hurt/comfort and rescue are also on-screen. Yes, it is amazing

Absolute chaos, really cool supernatural cases and creatures, a surprising amount of humor, charming writing, and a cast that absolutely nails it on the acting and chemistry

There is an extremely suggestive trickster type who is also the king of cats. He's a cat in human form. He hits on Edwin nonstop. Charles gets blisteringly jealous

All of the leads have well-thought-through, fully developed, emotional character arcs. They're all messy and flawed and sometimes lash out in their pain, but at turns can be incredibly supportive and kind and loyal

A character who is a crow who is also a boy, who is tortured by his witch/creator and also is crushing hard on one of the leads

There are so many incredible details in the setting, costume choices, prop decisions, etc. that you only catch after you know what it's laying the groundwork for. The level of care that went into this show is phenomenal

It's only eight episodes. The time investment barrier to entry could not possibly be lower

Anyway, tl;dr, if any of this sounds appealing to you, you should give this show a watch.

Dead Boy Detectives is well worth your time. It's easily my favorite show in years.

[astarioffsimpmain]

Won't Lose You

Astarion x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: This kind of became...whump? Whumpfort? It's angsty but with fluffy comfort at the end, and even a sprinkle of humor.

Synopsis: After your victory against the Netherbrain, you wake up without Astarion beside you. With the curtains opened and the sunlight streaming in, you fear the worst.

Author's Note: I FINALLY finished it, @icybluepenguin !!! 🥰 Thank you so much for your gift, and I hope you enjoy mine to you!

It was over, and all it cost him was his life in the sun.

Trance did not find him easily that night, but not for the reasons he was accustomed to. His arms tightened around your bare body, sleep having taken you hours ago. Sure, he had felt the sun burning his waxen skin for the first time since he escaped Cazador's grasp once the brain was defeated, but it hadn't lasted too very long, what with you sacrificing your cloak to him in an instant, draping it around his shoulders and casting darkness to hide him from the light.

Because of you, he had remained a part of your happy band of misfits in the sun and had been able to participate in the following celebrations. Although he'd never admit it to anyone but you, he had enjoyed watching Gale’s feeble attempts at dancing and the product of Karlach's endless stream of beer. But what he enjoyed most was being by your side. If you hadn't given him care enough to keep him safe, he would have had to depart your little festivities early and wait for the dark to come. He shuddered at the thought of being thrust back into an icy loneliness after all the warmth he had known. He wasn't sure he would have survived it.

But he shook those thoughts away with a turn of his head and burrowed his nose into your hair, breathing in the lather you both shared in the bathroom earlier in the evening. This made him smile; reminded him of why sleep would not come. He had been tangled up in you all night; experiencing you, touching you, loving you, and being loved in return. Your touch was soft, but it demanded a measure of kindness to himself that he had never known, and at times, it would overwhelm him. But you were patient, so endlessly patient with him, and you let him come to you, your arms open and waiting for him to trust you, and trust you he did.

He had trusted you for a long time now, despite every instinct he had telling him not to. He had trusted you to keep him safe, then to keep him fed. Even later down the road, he trusted you to let him choose, then he trusted you to set him free, and finally, after many trials and hard days bleeding into hard nights, he had trusted you to show him how to be loved, and you had not let him down. Not once. He was free, he was fed, and he was loved, and gods, he was giddy about it. The prospect of a whole new life with you was so intoxicating that he felt like he was floating off of the mattress, and his undead heart did phantom flips in his chest.

In the hours since the tadpole had been removed from his brain, he had felt his vampiric strength begin to return to him. As he laid with you, he clenched and unclenched his fingers, feeling unmistakably stronger than he remembered being even before the tadpole. "Perhaps it's simply because I no longer starve," he thought to himself as he took to admiring his fingernails in the dimly lit room. "Are they longer than before?"

He let his hand fall and turned his head to the side to gaze out into the night sky. You had insisted on closing the thick drapes over the window in case he fell asleep, but the moment he felt your breathing even out against him, he'd wrenched them back open. You had taught him to appreciate the moon again by your love of it. For the longest time, even before the possibility of the ritual was presented to him, he had worried that you would abandon him in favor of the sun. Not too long ago, he would have done so to you, and the thought never ceased to eat away at him. But you assured him over and over that the moon was your beacon, not the sun, and him, your North Star.

And when the comfort of the light abandoned him, you kept your word. Now, he couldn't imagine giving you up for anything. You were his sun. He would never need anything else. He smiled to himself as you snuggled closer to him in your sleep. With your warmth pressed against him, he found himself relaxing into a state of comfort he didn't realize he was still capable of, and he drifted into a blissful, peaceful trance in your arms.

Light pooled on your eyelids as you woke, warming your face with its rays, and you stretched, barely conscious of the world around you. Belatedly, you threw your arm to the other side of the bed, expecting to feel Astarion's cold body there beside you, as you had for the last several months. When you felt only bed sheets beneath your palm, you cracked an eye open, and your sleep-addled mind began to catch up with you all at once. "Ast- Star?" You mumbled incoherently, your mind beginning to race as you rubbed your eyes. The final battle. The Netherbrain. The sunlight burning beautiful pallor skin. Casting darkness. It came back to you in flashes and your heartbeat thumped ominously in your chest as you sat up and finally took in the open curtains of the window near to you, and the empty spot in the bed beside you.

A full-bodied panic arose with in you, and you pressed a firm hand against your chest as you called his name brokenly into the empty room. "Star? Star?!" Your voice cracked and your hands patted furiously across the side of the bed where his body should be laying, and altogether at once you found your reason and forced yourself up to run to the bathroom of your room, praying he had opened the curtains for you and then ducked away to take a bath before you rose. You prayed to as many gods and goddesses as you could name in the short number of steps from the bed to the bathroom door, but your heart stuttered to a near stop when the door creaked open and your lover was not there.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep in the sudden wave of nausea that overtook you as the thought came crashing down all around you. 'He wouldn't have gone to sleep with the curtains open. He wouldn't. He wouldn't do that. Not after everything. Not after-' "Oh, goooods." You wailed, stumbling back into the bedroom and nearly ripped the curtains closing them. A heartsick sob burst from your lips as you fell to your knees in front of the empty bed, raking your hands over it again and again as if to summon him into it. "Astarioooooon," you moaned, your face meeting the bed as you wept, continuing to pray that he had left you in the night instead, preferring that to the alternative.

A small, high pitched squeaking sound pierced your ears, but you couldn't find yourself to be bothered with it, any vermin in the room with you a small, insignificant intrusion upon the altar of your grief. You fisted the bedsheets and clenched them hard in your hands, taking shuddering breaths as you tried to reach another conclusion. In the meantime, the squeaking became louder and louder until you were forced to raise your head and meet its source: a small, white bat had crawled to you from under the covers of the bed, its furry head cocked to the side as it stared at you with beady red eyes. You sniffled, staring back at the bat, which seemed only to have eyes for you. It crawled ever closer until it reached your white-knuckled hands and stretched its wings over them as if to hug them.

You blinked hard, willing the tears away enough to observe the bat better. 'How did this little guy get in here?' You wondered as it crawled up your arm gently, only taking repose once it reached the crook of your neck and nestled close. "Wait," you paused, fingers already tenderly trailing over the bat's fur. "You came in when Astarion left, didn't you? He's alive, isn't he?!" You cried, and when the bat squeaked, almost in response, you let out a delirious laugh that then morphed into a choking sob. Elation and despair mixed as it sunk in. 'He's alive. He left me.'

You twisted to lay your head against the side of the bed, and the bat took flight, leaving to fly somewhere behind you. You didn't look. You couldn't move. The memories of you and Astarion were playing like a carousel in your mind; each touch, every kiss, all of his gleaming smiles, and heart-wrenching tears. You couldn't live a life without him, not after all you'd gone through to finally find one another. Did he still resent you for urging him not to ascend? Your heart clenched as you remembered the betrayal in his eyes when you had not given in to his desire for power. He didn't speak to you for an entire day afterward. You had been a mess; but nothing compared to what you were now.

Your hands shook as you brought them up to your face. “He said everything was alright. He said he was glad.” You murmured into your palms softly, brokenly. But was it? You heaved suddenly, but all that emerged was a desperate sob. He was gone. How would anything be alright ever again? Your thoughts swirled as you leaned against the mattress, face buried between your fingers. So loud was its pain that you missed the faint popping sound from behind you.

“...darling?” A soft voice whispered in your ear, and you choked, your head whipping behind you in the direction of sound; that voice, so achingly familiar.

“Astarion?” You croaked weakly as your eyes fell upon your pale lover's own.

“My love,” he cooed gently, his face contorted in pain.

“A-Astarion?!” You cried, turning to him and launching yourself at him. He caught you swiftly and pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest while you sobbed in relief.

“I- I don't know how it happened.” He sputtered. “I… I fell into trance and woke up as-”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes as it dawned on you. “-as a bat?”

“Well…yes, as a bat.” He replied dumbfoundedly as he continued to stroke your hair and cheek. “It must be a product of my vampiric powers returning since the tadpole is no longer…well, sucking them away.”

“I thought- “

“I know. I heard. I'm so sorry, darling.”

You sniffled again, shaking your head as if to send the thoughts away, and pulled closer to your lover, burying your face into the cold skin of his bare chest. After several moments of quiet calm, you let out a small chuckle.

“Darling?” Astarion asked tentatively.

“You're really cute as a bat.” You chittered quietly, and Astarion huffed out a laugh.

“I am beautiful and majestic in every form, my little love.” he crooned in your ear, and you smiled, your crusted cheeks pulling taut with the movement.

“You certainly are.” you replied, then fell silent for a moment before chuckling again.

“Yes, darling?” Astarion asked playfully.

“If your clothes didn't shrink with you when you became a bat, where did they go?” You snorted softly, running your hand up and down his bare side.

“Gods if I know, but if you know what's good for you, you won't take this opportunity for granted.” He replied cheekily, and you giggled, pulling away from his chest - with great effort, as your skin had somewhat fused upon drying off.

“I love you, Astarion.” You whispered, meeting his ruby red gaze.

He cupped your cheeks tenderly and held your eyes. “I love you too, darling. I will not abandon you. Not for death, not for the sun, and not for fear. I am not angry with you. Gods, I'm the happiest I can remember ever being.” His eyes narrowed, and one eyebrow shot up. “You'd have to well and truly fight me til death if you wished to remove me from your side.”

Then you laughed, full and sweet, and leaned in to press your lips to his. “Well then,” you mumbled against them. “It's quite the relief that I have no plans of ever getting rid of you, hm?”

“I'd say so, little love.” He replied before leaning in to capture your lips once more. One of his hands crept to the back of your head to keep you in place and the other made its home at your hip, pulling you flush against him and squeezing the skin there as he deepened the kiss.

You moaned softly into his mouth and let your arms twine around his neck, but pulled away before he dove any further. “Hey, Astarion.” you mumbled against his mouth.

“Mm?” He hummed, his eyes lust blown and lidded.

“Can you turn into a bat next time we have a bath together? The tubs in this inn are really quite small…”

“Oh, gods.” He rolled his eyes, and you laughed, pulling him back in and kissing his face until it went red. He would never live this down, but he was not sure he minded all that much; not if it was you.

♡♡♡

fin

[whumpthemusical]

Whump: The Musical Prompts!!

As stated before, this challenge will run from March 1- March 31, 2024. All fandoms are welcome to participate despite it being prompts based off of musicals. Once again, all types of media are allowed. This challenge has the standard "choose one for the day" style, but feel free to do all three prompts if that's what you want to do!! All types of whump are allowed, but please be respectful to your fellow audience members and properly tag it!! Some of these prompts are sensitive, so make sure you warn your readers correctly! There will be an ao3 collection and an FAQ post coming soon, so if you have any further questions or comments about this challenge, feel free to drop me a line. Happy writing, my beautiful ingénues, and enjoy the show :)))

The prompts will be listed under the cut for those who have difficulty reading fonts!!

Cats- Sabotage • Second Chances • "I Can Dream Of The Old Days."

Wicked- Mob Mentality • Propaganda • "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished."

Jesus Christ Superstar- Whipping • Betrayal • "Then I Was Inspired, Now I'm Sad And Tired."

Les Mis- Survivor's Guilt • Failure • "Drink With Me To Days Gone By."

Heathers- Poison • Reluctant Whumper • "Wanna fight for me?"

Newsies- Chronic Pain • Exploitation • "Let 'Em Laugh In My Face, I Don't Care."

The Last Five Years- Infidelity • Gaslighting • "I Will Not Lose Because You Can't WIn."

Hadestown- Deals • Doomed Narrative • "Doubt Comes In."

Sweeney Todd- False Imprisonment • Razors • "Have You Decided It's Safer In Cages?"

Rent- Substance Abuse • Poverty • "Feels Too Much Damn Like Home."

Bare: A Pop Opera- Outing • Religious Trauma • "Please, See Me."

Waitress- Unplanned Pregnancy • Abuse • "She Is Broken And Won't Ask For Help."

Tick Tick Boom- Atychiphobia • Working To Exhaustion • "Is This Real Life?"

Dear Evan Hansen- Deception • Broken Bone • "Words Fail."

West Side Story- Star-Crossed Lovers • Prejudices • "A Boy Who Kills Cannot Love."

Come From Away- Stranded • Aftermath • "Blankets And Bedding And Maybe Some Food."

Spring Awakening- Withheld Information • Suicide  • "I Don't Scream, Though I Know It's Wrong."

Hamilton- Hurricane  • Dueling • "I Will Kill Your Friends And Family To Remind You Of My Love."

Falsettos- Sickness • Identity Issues • "Death Is Not A Friend."

Into The Woods- Blame • Lost • "Nothing But A Vast Midnight."

The Great Comet- Abduction • Letters • "Did You Love That Bad Man?"

In The Heights- Grief • Homesickness • "I Know That I'm Letting You Down."

Be More Chill- Mind Manipulation • Panic Attack • "Everything About Me Makes Me Want To Die."

Moulin Rouge- Class Differences • Sex Work • "Come What May."

Chicago- Cold Blood • Trial • "He Had It Coming."

Six- Execution • Trauma Bonding • "Playtime's Over."

Ride The Cyclone- Unexpected Tragedy • Forgotten Whumpee • "I Hear The Anguish Of The Street."

The Rocky Horror Show- Obsession • Wrong Place, Wrong Time • "I've Seen Blue Skies Through The Tears."

Nerdy Prudes Must Die- Bullying • Ritual • "Who Will Pray For You?"

Jekyll And Hyde- Duality • Good Vs Evil • "If I Die, You'll Die."

Phantom Of The Opera- Disfiguration • Shunned • "My Power Over You Grows Stronger Yet."

[buddierecs]

jealous!eddie diaz buddie fics

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

hold the line (to my heart) by: erotes "eddie diaz is not jealous. it is entirely normal to be annoyed that his best friend is busy flirting in the middle of a crisis. obviously." word count: 7k important tags: 911 lone star characters, oblivous!eddie diaz, getting together counting pulses by: tinyydancerr "eddie diaz’s life is going great. he’s in therapy, he’s got a great girlfriend, a great kid, his friend is getting married to the woman of his dreams, and his best friend just came out to him. now his best friend is dating their new friend. things are going great. he promises." word count: 63k important tags: buck/tommy, eddie diaz has ocd, catholic guilt, pining, buckley-diaz family, co-parenting, slow burn hey now, hey now by: fallingthorns "after returning to the 118, eddie becomes a full-time paramedic and ravi becomes buck's partner. eddie absolutely doesn't feel anything about that, not at all." word count: 10k important tags: 5+1 things, fluff, pining, humour, getting together, love confessions i used to call you my best friend (way back before you were my everything) by: snowyroads "in which eddie is so in love with his best friend but that’s totally normal. oh, and hen’s tired of his shit." word count: 5.3k important tags: sexuality crisis, pining, fluff, getting together, sexual tension my heart aches with love for you by: farfromthstars "eddie and marisol run into buck and tommy on a date. eddie is not jealous." word count: 1.7k important tags: feelings realisation, pre-relationship, pining advice wanted by: cairparavels "eddie diaz takes to reddit to figure out why he hates his best friend’s new boyfriend so much." word count: 8k important tags: social media, reddit, misunderstandings, tommy kinard bashing, idiots in love, fluff, angst, humour, mutual pining, getting together good luck, babe by: hattalove "sometimes, when you've had a bad week, all you want is a romantic evening out with your wife over terrible pizza, and what you get instead is some kind of intricate gay ritual happening two tables away from you." word count: 2.1k important tags: outsider pov, social media, twitter you're the one by: smilingbuckley "chimney pretends to be buck’s boyfriend to get a guy to back off. eddie doesn't like it." word count: 2.5k important tags: crack, fake dating, platonic kissing, pre-relationship, first kiss, love confessions, fluff, angst tryna find my way back to you (cause i'm needing a little bit of love) by: mumucow_xD "when buck joins the 126 team for a whole month and eddie didn't expect it to awake something in him" word count: 45k important tags: whump, minor angst, feelings realisation, drunken confessions pining from the passenger seat by: orphan_account "eddie pines from the passenger seat" word count: 5.4k important tags: pining, soft!buddie, getting together, first kiss baby i can ease the ache (let me give your heart a break) by: youdrewstarsaroundmyscars118 "buck wants to date natalia, eddie wants to die, chimney and maddie are very good at motivational speeches and buck is not as oblivious as people make him out to be." word count: 4.6k important tags: possessive!eddie diaz, first kiss, love confessions, getting together plus or minus by: elvensorceress "taylor is offered a job across the country and asks buck to go with her. buck has to figure out if he wants to start over or if he has a reason to stay right where he is." word count: 10k important tags: idiots in love, oblivious, getting together, soft!buddie, love confessions, mutual pining waiting on a distant feeling by: justhockey "five times eddie thought he was homophobic, and the one time he realised he was just jealous." word count: 5.9k important tags: 5+1 things, idiots in love, getting together, oblivious!eddie diaz, mutual pining, fluff, angst

[pinoyhawks]

i'll see your heart and i'll raise you mine

takami keigo/hawks x gn!reader

Description: You can read him just as well as he can read you and he's not yet sure whether that's a blessing or a curse.

He's starting to edge toward blessing when you reach for him.

content warnings: hospital setting, whump, graphic description of injuries, brief descriptions of medical procedures, bodily trauma

[crossposted from my ao3: link]

~~~

“So you’ll never guess what I saw today.” Hawks tugs at the curtains, blocking out the golden rays of the setting sun. He knows you hate it when the sun’s in your eyes. “Do you remember that one photoshoot where I had to stick paintbrushes and scrub brushes through my hair and behind my ears and in my mouth?” 

Hawks glances back at you. The slight dip of your head urges him to continue. He gives the curtains a final tug before making a beeline for the electric kettle on the counter of your hospital room’s mini-kitchen. The water within begins to boil at the push of a button.

“When I was on patrol, I saw a billboard advertising some sort of brush for feathers and—wouldn’t you know it?��I was on it! Apparently, that was what the photoshoot was for! Brushes for feathers!” 

He shakes his head in disbelief as he tears open two packets of peppermint tea, the electric kettle beeping loudly as steam pours out of its spout. “They didn’t even tell me what the photoshoot was for while we were taking it. Wanna know what the kicker is?” 

He pauses for one or two seconds, for both dramatic effect and for the space where your answer would be, before pressing on. “They didn’t even give me one of those feather brushes!” 

Hawks dips two bags of peppermint tea in and out of two paper cups, one for you and one for him. “I mean, I’ll admit, my feathers don’t really need brushing nor did I really want one, but still. Would’ve been nice to receive some sort of care package or branded gift basket from them, right?” 

The smell from such a small portion invades his nostrils and feels like toothpicks sticking into his brain. How you drink this every night without getting overstimulated, he’ll never know, but there’s no way he’ll make a fuss about it. Not when recovery from your incident demanded that much of your independence and daily rituals be taken away from you. 

Hawks figures it must have been painful to be denied the simple joy of having a cup of peppermint tea before bed during the worst parts of your recovery. So he makes two. One for you to drink, one for him to hold. You’ll finish yours and he’ll give you his. 

He picks up the two cups and makes his way to you, treading carefully so as not to spill. From your seat on the hospital bed, you carefully pull the overbed table towards you, a safe place for two cups of tea to land. “I know it’s stupid,” Hawks says, gently placing one cup in front of you, “but hey. You asked me to talk about my day and that was the only thing I could think of.” 

You beam up at him before shaking your head as if to say, No, I don’t think it’s stupid. I’d ask for a gift basket too if they made me stick a toothbrush up my nose and took a picture of it without telling me what it was for.  

Something in his chest aches at the thought of your possible response. His grip on his paper cup tightens as he watches you breathe in the minty steam before taking your very first sip.

It’s been two weeks since the incident, hard to tell from how quickly you’re recovering physically. Dark circles still bruise the bags of your eyes, your face looks gaunter, and your skin looks a little duller than usual, but the scratches on your face are shrinking and with every change of bandages he stumbles upon, the gauze wrapped around your abdomen comes away with less and less blood. 

Yes, you’re healing, no doubt about it, but the silence that hangs over your room and fills the air like a wicked miasma tells him a completely different story. 

A quick tap on his arm startles Hawks out of his spiral. You fix him with a concerned look, brows knitted together. Hey. You’re flying off again. Come back to me . Hawks tacks on those last two words, just for himself. You’d never say those last two words, but he lets himself be selfish in that way. It’s hard for him not to be selfish when it comes to knowing ( knowing , not guessing ) what you, his very first, genuine friend, would say. 

Hawks plasters a placating grin on his face. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, patting the back of your hand. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Your lips press together briefly before splitting into an affirmative smile, but Hawks catches the microexpression quick enough. You don’t really believe he’s fine, but for his sake, you’ll help him keep up that silly little illusion. You can read him just as well as he can read you and he’s not yet sure whether that’s a blessing or a curse. 

He’s starting to edge towards ‘blessing’ when you reach for him, palm up and fingers opening and closing. Hawks switches his cup to his other hand to take yours. As soon as his hand is in yours, your thumb brushes over the back of his, back and forth, back and forth. It’s okay. It’s okay, you seem to say. You smile up at him as you squeeze his hand tightly. It’s gonna be okay.

Hawks swallows down the lump in his throat at how the situation has turned itself around. He’s here to comfort you in your trying times, not you comfort him for not being fine. 

You’re the one who got caught in the crossfires of a villain attack, not him. You’re the one who suffered multiple blunt-force injuries in the chest, the stomach, and the head from being tossed around so violently, not him. You’re the one who could barely breathe the moment you entered the hospital’s treatment room, your breath rattling as your lungs fought to push air in and out of you from within your battered ribcage, not him. You’re the one who’s nonverbal thanks to a mix of trauma from the incident and vocal cord paralysis from your injuries, not him. You’re the one relying on body language and the notes app of your phone to ask for the simplest things, not him. 

Between you and him, Hawks is the most selfish person in the room. How dare he call himself a hero? 

Hawks drops your hand. 

For a moment, your expression falls before he takes your hand in his once more. His thumb strokes over the cracked and scarred skin of your knuckles in the same way you did his. Your smile makes his heart hammer against his ribcage. He sets down his paper cup on the overbed table to cup your hand in both of his. 

I’m here. I’m here for you. I’ll take care of you, he hopes he says as he raises your hand to his mouth. 

Briefly, he presses his lips to your knuckles. Short, but reverent in every way. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

Hawks looks up at you with bated breath, taking in your softened gaze, your teary eyes, and the pleased curve of your smile.

You set your cup down on the overbed table, right next to his, and cradle Hawks’s cheek in your palm. Something blooms in your chest, something much more powerful than fear and injury.

“Love you, too.”

[shaykesqueer]

Whump Month '24 Day Five: Ritual

Don't tell me Omega wouldn't try every kind of magic to bring Terzo back...

Thank you @cirrus-ghoulette for organising Whump Month! Prompts here <3

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[vivulapom]

personally i am a very large fan of permanent consequences in whump.. both mental and physical.. especially when it's literally transformation. oh whumper injected you with the SerumTM? you got cursed? you got used in a ritual? tough shit buddy, now your physical form is irreversibly and permanently changed, and you'll never be the same again.

i'm not sure which is better; whumpee being conscious and having to deal with the (usually painful) process and panicking and etc, or whumpee being unconscious and waking up in what is essentially a completely different body.. mmmm it's so good