#summer of whump 1

[whumperfully]

~Reunion~

Day 1:'Once I start, I won't be able to stop, alright?'

Next

@summer-of-whump

CW: Creepy whumper, some gore, conditioned whumpee, recapture (lmk if I missed anything)

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Caretaker turned on the tap and sighed. Their reflection on the bathroom mirror showed just how tired they were. Ever since whumpee returned, they hadn't been able to sleep, too scared of whumper kidnapping them again. The last time they tried to take a nap, the image of whumpee bloody and bruised flashed over and over again in their head until they decided to spent another night living on caffeine.

They turned off the tap and slid the toothbrush back into the case. Perhaps they should try taking a sleeping pi-- a dreadful scream hit them, accompanied by a muffled plea. They turned around so fast that they nearly slipped.

"Whumpee! Are you okay!" They wrenched the doorknob and bursted into the room.

"Don't move, caretaker. Unless you want whumpee to get hurt that is."

The sight that met them was enough to send chills down their spine. Whumper had whumpee against the wall, their casual hold around whumpee's neck keeping them off the ground.

"Don't try anything. Slowly and quietly kneel down, your hands behind your head." Whumper tightened their grip, earning a whimper from whumpee.

Caretaker seemed to have forgotten their voice in the bathroom. Trembling, they got down.

"Good job, caretaker. Now, would you like to play a game? It's called caretaker or whumpee. One of my personal favorites actually." Whumper smiled, sickening caretaker to the bone.

"P-please!" Caretaker's voice returned, desperate and shaky. "Do anything to me. Just- just don't touch them!"

"I didn't explain the rules yet, did I? You won't be the one to choose. Whumpee will be the one doing the honors." Their grip abruptly loosened.

Whumpee fell down with a thud, gasping for breath.

"Whumper! Please!" Caretaker's vision was clouded with tears. "I'm begging you! Let me--"

A sharp cry rang across the room as whumper slammed their boot into whumpee's back. Ignoring caretaker's protests, whumper yanked up whumpee's head by the hair. "You seem to have forgotten what I taught you, whumpee. Truly disgraceful. Screaming? Did I give you permission to do that?"

Through tears and pained breaths, whumpee shook their head.

"You're supposed to apologize." Whumper slammed their head into the ground. Once. Twice. Thrice. More. More. Once more.

Caretaker's eyes fell to the floor. Their throat felt hoarse. Their body weak. The sick sound of whumpee's face hitting marble. Over and over. And over. Again. And again. They couldn't take it anymore. "Whumper, please!" They cried out again, only to be ignored. Their face burned with guilt and shame. They had promised whumpee that they would never let whumper near them again. They had promised themself that they would kill whumper as soon as they would catch sight of them. Yet, whumper was right there. In front of their eyes. Why... Couldn't they do anything about it?

After a length of time that felt way too long, the dreadful sounds stopped. Caretaker forced themself to look back up.

"Choose, whumpee." Whumper breathed in their ear. Caretaker's insides squirmed. "Should I hurt you or caretaker?"

"Me." Caretaker flinched. Their face was bloody, burning with pain. Yet not a hint of hesitation crossed their voice.

"Very well. You're too good, whumpee." Whumper stood up, leaving whumpee motionless on the floor. They were soon face to face with a stunned caretaker. "I have a little something for you."

A sharp sensation at the back of their neck and caretaker fell to the ground. Whumper stood back up, pushing caretaker's head to the side with their boot, giving them a full view of whumpee.

"Let's begin." They walked back over, unhidden malice dancing in their voice. "Once I start, I won't be able to stop, alright? Are you really sure about this, whumpee?"

"Thank you for giving me another chance, sir. I couldn't be grateful enough." Their eyes were blank and empty.

Tears streamed down caretaker's face. There was nothing they could do but watch. They had failed to keep their promise. They had failed to protect whumpee.

#summer of whump 2022 #summer of whump #summer of whump 2022 1 #summer of whump 1 #whump #whump community #creepy whumper #some gore #conditioned whumpee #recapture

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

“Once I start, I won’t be able to stop, alright? The procedure has to be continuous,” Bones continued to murmur under his breath for several seconds, still moving things around this makeshift surgery site. With bad surface data, bad intel, and a very typical start to a mission that included Kirk, you weren’t surprised that things almost immediately turned for the worse but even then…the body invading plants were a bit much.

The small group of you had been isolated from the rest of the landing party and in the maze of supposedly benign plant life, some sort of semi-intelligent or at least mobile ground vine had struck. You had just barely got the movement from the corner of your eye, enough time to tackle Bones out of the way but in the process you got hit instead.

It was like nothing you had ever felt like before — a burning sensation blazing through your veins that were surrounded by ice cold tissue, the vine seemingly sucking the life from you. Bones had been trying to remove it from your body for a while now and it was working until it wasn’t. Every time he stopped to access the progress being made or because you jerked to much and broke his concentration or even because your screams of pain distracted him — it allowed the parasitic vine a chance to reassert itself.

Bones had finally figured out a way, he thought, to completely remove the invader but it was going to be painful and long and quite possibly still not work. He only had the bare minimum supplies on him and not one of them was a pain medication or numbing agent that you weren’t allergic to. Between that and the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to stop once it started, Bones was quietly edging into a panic and doing his best to suppress it.

“Just do it. Please,” you reached a shaking hand out to him, laying it gently on the leg that was digging into your ribs. “Do it now before it gets worse or deeper. Please.”

You allowed your hand to drop then bit down on the, hopefully, non-killer stick you shoved in your mouth. You didn’t think you could prepare yourself more and buckled down so the procedure could be done. You weren’t keen on dying because of killer plant-life.

@summer-of-whump

#summer of whump #summer of whump [day 1] #summerofwhump #summerofwhump[day1] #sow #sow day 1 #Day 1 #tw: body invasion #tw: body horror #tw: sentient plants #tw: non con body modification #tw: surgery #tw: medical settings #tw: unsafe medical practices #tw: looming death #Star Trek #ST #Bones #Dr. McCoy #leonard mccoy #star trek drabble #st drabble #bones drabble #Dr. McCoy drabble #Leonard McCoy drabble #my stuff #m’s drabbles

[daryfromthefuture]

Good morning, everyone! Welcome to @summer-of-whump 2022!

#back to the future #bttf #marty mcfly #bttf fic #summer of whump #summer of whump [1]

[overflowing-with-words]

sunlit skies

Zane struggles with the aftermath of being the Ice Emperor, and Kai isn't about to let his friend give up.]

A/N: First day of summer of whump! can totally be read at opposite shipping if you squint. also I just really like the dock setting for stories-- sorry for the abrupt ending! I have apparently forgotten how to end stories, and also trying to write less for summer of whump daily prompts, before I burn myself out 

• • •

The docks are quiet. 

Zane appreciates that now, more than ever. Sure, he can still hear the quiet buzzing of conversations accompanied with busily clanking ships in the back, but it's less chaotic than his thoughts usually are. 

He closes his eyes, blue text popping up onto his monitor with a ping. He sighs, and looks back out onto the horizon, sliding notifications away. Sometimes staying awake is more helpful than living in his mind, his land of coding and light and too many broken places in too many dark corners. 

There's a quiet thump, and Kai sits down next to him, a wince as he clenches his fingers together.  Zane doesn't have to look over at him to know the burns are flaring up again, both from frost and fire. 

Throwing a person who's been used to warmth his whole life into a frosty wasteland is never a good choice, and Kai's exerted his powers too far, trying to stop the dragon. His hands will never be the same again, littered with scars that will not fade over the years. 

And it's all Zane's fault. 

The fire ninja stares out at the sun for a few more silent moments, and looks over at the nindroid. 

"Are you okay? I saw what happened out at training today."

Zane doesn't react, but his memory is already reaching back into his database, pulling out memories of being scared and angry and lashing out. And ice, ice filling the room in sharp daggers and claws, and the look on Lloyd's face that chilled him to the core.

"I'm sorry," he starts, and breaks away before he can say anything more. There's too many things he's sorry for, and he doesn't know how to say them all. 

"Don't be." Kai puts a hand on his shoulder cautiously, tilting the ice ninja over to look at him. "We've- we've all been there. It comes with the job." He says, voice tired, and Zane looks at him with cold eyes. 

"I hurt you." He says automatically, metallic voice grating against his ears. 

"And I hurt people, too." Kai says hesitantly, gaze flitting back to the ground. "You remember the time I got my hands on that scepter. I hurt people, Zane, and we all have. It's not your fault."

"I did those things myself," he says, and remembers the screams that still haunt him at night. 

"Once I start, I won't be able to stop. So I won't start. And you will not need me any further. " He states flatly, and immediately wishes he could take it back. Thinking about it is one thing, and saying it outright is a whole other. 

"I'll be there to stop you."Kai says, and his voice is quiet but ungiving. Zane looks at him, ice blue meeting fiery red, and thinks he means it. 

"Powers are hard to control. But they're a part of you, Zane. And it's okay if you don't think you could use them right now. Powers or not, we'll always be here." Kai slips his hand into Zane's, giving it a small squeeze. 

"So don't give up hope, okay? You're stronger than that."

Zane gives a steady nod, and Kai smiles, amber eyes bright.

The docks are still quiet, and Zane thinks his mind is also, now.

#ninjago #summer of whump #summerofwhump #summerofwhump day 1 #summerofwhump | day 1 #I forgot how to tag #hmmm #kai smith #zane #zane julien #angst #whump #healing #badthingshappenbingo #bthb #just adding in all the ticks I forgot to add #hope that's not against the rules xD #just wanted to finish some with SOW!

[fletcherwilbury]

@summer-of-whump Day 1: Alt Prompt 1: Blindfolded

Warning for Canon-typical violence, blood, chronic pain, and broken nose.

#summer of whump 2022 #summer of whump day 1 #alt prompt 1 #blindfolded #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2012 leo #tmnt 2012 raph #tmnt 2012 donnie #tmnt 2012 mikey #tmnt 2012 splinter #canon typical violence #blood #chronic pain #broken nose

[sprout-fics]

(Gif originally by @shadow0-1)

Today. Yesterday. Tomorrow. Again.

(Soap x GN! Reader)

Rating: Mature Wordcount: 5400 Tags: Doomed Narrative, Time Loop AU, Heavy Angst, Blood and Injury, Self-Sacrifice, Whump, Hurt Very Little Comfort, Happy Ending, (I PROMISE THERE'S A HAPPY ENDING!!) Warnings: Major character death. That's...literally the plot A/N: Hi here's the doomed timelines AU nobody asked for

Call of Duty Masterlist

Summary:

The 23rd time you meet Soap, you don’t bother to smile. You know how this ends.

“Nice to meet you, Soap.” You say for the 23rd time, words that have passed your lips in more lifetimes that you wish you didn’t remember. “I look forward to working with you.”

And I don’t look forward to watching you die.

The first time you meet Soap, it’s how you expect. 

It’s a warm spring day, the kind where you need to shed layers in the brightness of afternoon, only to don them again come sunset. He stands just beyond the shade of the barracks, awash in sunlight that seems to catch the blue of his eyes. You blink as you take him in, and it’s the only barest indication you give at the instant impression that he’s handsome.

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you. You reach for it automatically, remember yourself and offer a pleasant smile in return, along with your name. 

“Looking forward to working with you, John.” You reply, and John- Johnny, as you’d come to call him in the tender moments between you, chuckles. 

“Call me ‘Soap’.” He tells you easily, and you smile a bit wryly, tilting your head at him. 

“The hell kind of name is ‘Soap’?”

- - - - -

It’s easy to work with Soap. He has a cheery, bright demeanor to him that is immediately endearing. He’s friendly, outgoing. His smile is contagious, and the bark of his laughter becomes familiar to you. You listen and guffaw at his jokes over the comms, try vainly to hide your smile when he says them before you. 

It only makes his eyes twinkle to see you try and conceal your amusement, and that becomes familiar too- the sparkle of his irises with endless mirth. 

He catches you during your duties, sidles up beside you during weapons training, becomes the first to suggest himself as your partner during drills. The company he offers is warm, welcome, lifting the dusky heaviness of your heart into something more tender, fragile. You hold it for him, feel his grin bleed into yours, lay awake at night and sometimes think about the shake of his shoulders when you get him to laugh. 

You feel endlessly special when he devotes his time to you, feel as if Soap treats you like you’re the only person in the world. Even in the presence of others he finds ways to indulge himself in you. A nudge of his boot against yours under the table of the briefing room, tossing you an extra round of ammo as you gear up for a mission, finding an excuse to sit next to you on the chopper ride home. Soap feels like a breath of fresh air, the first taste of a cool breeze during summer, a respite from the weight of the world. 

Like two stars in orbit, you circle each other, drawing closer into the gravity of each other’s gazes. You try at first to resist, to hold yourself away from the feelings of the other sergeant, knowing at any moment that he could be taken from you. It’s written in the wheels of fate, your destinies as soldiers. If you’re lucky, if you stay alert, if you train hard enough, if chance smiles upon you, maybe you’ll both live to a day where the sound of rockets and bullet-fire doesn’t haunt your waking dreams.

Yet you can’t resist him. When you fall asleep against his shoulder after a days long mission with hardly any sleep, when he playfully grapples with you over the last slice of pizza during movie night, when he gives you that smile during a rare night off-base at the pub- how can you resist?

Gravity pulses between you when you at last fall into him, feel his breath against your lips as your fingers comb through his mohawk. He breathes the blessing of your name against the corner of your mouth in a panting gasp, flexes his fingers across the small of your back when he drags you even closer. The taste of him is honey and ale, a sweetness with a beloved bitter aftertaste, one you drink down greedily in the form of his moans against your flesh. 

When you lay in bed together after, sweaty limbs tangled together, you watch the tender, soulful smile form across the handsome planes of his face, and you know. 

He’s yours. 

There’s kisses stolen in the hangar before take off, moments hidden in the shadows of safehouses. He cups your face and lifts it to him in the aftermath of battle, smears ash against your cheek with his gloved thumb. You try to carve each moment into your heart, never fail to try and memorize the glint of his eyes, the soft slope of his smile. You know the shape of him in the darkness of his bedroom, know the sound of his voice even blinded by the brightness of his mere presence. 

Johnny is the sun- emanating a gentle, beckoning warmth from afar. Yet when you get closer you see the glory of his inferno, see the flashing burn of his eyes in the midst of battle. The solar flare of his battle cry seems to carry you like soar of Helios's chariot upwards into the heavens of his devotion. When you touch him, you’re seared, branded by his fingers as they trace sentimental sketches across the dip of your waist. You want to bask in him, feel the ember of his stare as he gazes at you silently across the table of the restaurant he takes you to for your official first date. 

“What?” You ask him, averting your eyes a little bashfully, catching his shrug in your periphery. 

“Just lookin’.” He replies with a grin, his cheek smushed as he balances on his hand. “Just seeing how pretty you are.”

You kiss him for that, and when he laughs you kiss him again. 

You kiss him a thousand times, each as sweet and passionate as the last, know the curve of his smile on your lips. You kiss him before your next mission, when he holds you against the wall of the armory and tells you how he can’t wait until you both get back. 

He doesn’t. He doesn’t come back. 

He’s looking at you in the chopper when you hear the sound of the RPG. The explosion has him backlit for all of a moment before the world is spinning, the roar of the dying engine in your ears and Price’s holler to “BAIL BAIL BAIL-!!”

You reach for the rope, glance behind you to see Soap not out of his seat- a breed of panic in his eyes unlike that you’ve ever seen from him. The jammed clasp of his strap is caught in his hands as he tugs at it desperately, and you meet his gaze for all of a moment, seeing the imminent knowledge of what comes next in his beautiful blue eyes. 

You fall, without him, are caught by the canopy of trees where the snap of branches under you muffles the distant sound of the helicopter exploding as it lands. 

You ignore Price’s orders, run desperately for the wreckage, only to be greeted by an inferno that stretches towards the sky. 

Johnny is on fire, and this time when you reach for the burn of him the flames are real. They scorch your flesh and you shout his name even as you try to reach him, already knowing it’s too late. When Ghost and the others haul you back you fall to your knees, grip the scorched earth beneath your fingers and scream.

And then you wake up. 

Warm springtime. 

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you.

You blink, heart still hammering in your chest, feeling the warmth of flames chase you even as songbirds sing in the trees. Yet Johnny is alive before you, whole, smiling, looking so much like the man he was when you met him for the very first time. 

“Was it a nightmare?” You ask him breathlessly, and Johnny- Soap- merely arches a bewildered eyebrow at you. 

“What?”

Nightmares, you come to learn, are so much more kind. 

It happens all as it did before. The jokes over comms, the glancing gazes over drills, the bump of elbows in the mess hall. It’s familiar, sweet, amorous…

And you know something is terribly, terribly wrong. 

Back to the start, somehow. You don’t know how, you don’t know why- but there’s no denying what has happened. Johnny died. You went back, and now you have a chance to save him. 

It’s months before the helicopter crash. You replay the scene over and over again in your mind, and you keep arriving back to the look in Johnny’s eyes as realization washed across them. Everyone who dies a sudden death is confused, scared, not ready, and the knowledge and horror you saw in his stare haunts your waking dreams. 

Yet Johnny falls in love with you just as he did before, and you fall into him so readily, desperate to accept his warmth in the wake of his death. Orpheus embracing Eurydice, you try to trace him into your skin, imbue the memory of him into the marrow of your bones and pray that you can reverse his fate. The gears of destiny tick in the back of your mind even as he stares at you over the restaurant table on the evening before your departure. 

“Just lookin’.” He tells you when you return his stare, mistaking your concern for confusion. “Just seeing how pretty you are.”

When you kiss him, you try to swallow the sob in your throat.

When you get on the helicopter, you point out his jammed strap with shaking fingers, and he blinks in astonishment. 

“Hell’s bells.” He huffs, fiddling with it before it comes loose, and it stays that way for the remainder of your journey. “That coulda been terrible, ey bonnie?”

He makes it out this time, and when he rises from the forest floor he rushes to you, cups your face in his hands and stares down with eyes glinting in concern. 

“Sweetheart.” He breathes, chest heaving with exhilaration. “Are you hur-”

He jerks back at the sound of a gunshot, and you drop automatically, crawl to him just in time to catch his hand as he reaches for you. The bullet wound at his collarbone gushes red, red, red, and your hands are coated in it as you plead, tell him he’s going to be okay-

The light fades from his eyes, still staring up at you, the last thing he sees. 

You still feel his heartbeat on your hands when you wake up. 

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you. You tremble, take it and see him blink in surprise when he feels the uncontrollable shake of your palm against his. 

The second time, you think it’s a fluke, a horrible prank. 

He steps on a landmine, scattered to the four winds.

The third time, you’re petrified. 

A man hidden in the darkness, he lunges for you. Johnny pushes him aside. The blade wedges between his ribs.

The fourth time, you beg destiny for answers.

You make it to the compound, the fence lights him up like a firework.

The fifth time, you try to tell him, only to find your throat clogged, unable to speak. You try to tell him a hundred more times in the months that follow, and each time the words are stolen from your breath, as if fate forbids you to inform him of his doomed destiny.

“...Nothing.” You tell him when he asks after you’ve tried to speak over the restaurant table, your food barely touched. 

Johnny shrugs. “Doesna matter, too busy looking at how pretty you are.”

You cry silently that night in his bed, while he dozes gently next to you, unaware of what awaits him. 

You can’t tell him. You don’t know how to save him. You still love him. 

He’ll forget he knows you, forget he loves you by the time he wakes up

You’ve found eight ways for Soap to die, and have taken years to defy all of them. You have to write them down everytime you wake up unless you somehow forget. The notebook is filled with scribbled reminders, ever present in your pocket even as he steals the last slice of pizza out from under you.

He doesn’t have enough ammo. Remind him to take extra clips

He put his knife on the wrong strap that he usually does, fix it for him.

He steps on the landmine fourteen steps after the creek. Stop him.

You can’t stop trying. Not when it’s him.

Yet each time you find a way to outsmart the latest execution of him, fate finds one more thing to steal him out from under you. Unstoppable, imminent, condemned to wake up and see his smiling face mere moments after his heartbeat slows to nothingness.

“I love you.” You whisper as you cradle his head in your lap, knowing he already can’t hear you, glassy eyes staring up at the sky. “I’ll see you soon.”

You burst into tears by the 19th time, buckling in on yourself much to the shock of the men around you, relaying startled looks of confusion between them. You excuse yourself, find a dark corner to fold into and sob, knowing this time you’ll fail too.

It’s Soap who finds you, sits beside you, says barely a word when you cry into his shoulder even though he doesn’t know you. Not yet. 

Falling in love with him each time is painful. Your heart beats for him and him alone, but you know it’s only a matter of time before you lose him again. You’ll go right back to the start, to him having just met you, not yet falling into gravity with you, even as you hear the tick of gears turning ever closer to the moment you’ll watch him die.

“Don’t you know me?” You want to ask him, want to bunch his shirt between your fists and let tears stream down your face. “Don’t you know you loved me?”

His smile doesn’t waver. He jokes and laughs and playfully teases you and it hurts. It’s a balm that burns, heals your heart and yet doesn’t erase the scar. He’s your only comfort, the only thing you have as you feel your soul chipped a little further each time he leaves you. You can’t tell him why you cry into his arms, can’t confess to him that you’ve seen him die more ways than you care to remember, that you’ve tried to save him in dozens of lifetimes and he doesn’t even know.

He holds you even though he doesn’t understand, hushes sweet endearments into your hair and comforts you, not knowing how this will end. 

“I love you.” He tells you softly as you hiccup against his chest, not knowing what else to say. “Ever since the moment I first saw you, I’ve loved you.”

Your tears drip into the fancy china at the restaurant he takes you to and Johnny looks afraid.

The 23rd time you meet Soap, you don’t bother to smile. You know how this ends.

“Nice to meet you, Soap.” You say for the 23rd time, words that have passed your lips in more lifetimes that you wish you didn’t remember. “I look forward to working with you.”

And I don’t look forward to watching you die.

He looks at you, blinks. His brow furrows.

“How’d you know my name?”

This time, you forget to warn him about the rigged doorway, and he vanishes in a flash and puff of smoke. 

“Don’t cry.” He wheezes when you bend over him, words pouring from your lips in a ceaseless mantra. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. “I always hated watching ye cry.”

You wake up. Everything happens as it did before. You meet him, you listen to the sound of his laugh, you finish one of his jokes over the comms and he groans.

“Don’t tell me ye know that one too!” He grouses, and when you smile your chest aches with the force of thirty lifetimes. 

You place a palm against his back, unable to help yourself as you enter the compound, wanting to feel the frame of his body just one more time before destiny finds a new way to kill him. He looks at you over his shoulder, smiles even as uncertainty colors the blueness of his gaze. 

“Yer like my guardian angel.” He tells you, still smiling even after all this time. “Dannea what I’d do w’out ye.”

A grenade at the staircase. He pushes you out of the way. He doesn’t duck out of the way in time.

You close your eyes when you wake up. You can’t bear to look at him, knowing you’ll just lose him again.

You try to keep him from loving you, thinking perhaps that is the crime to warrant this eternal punishment. You can’t stop loving him, but maybe, maybe you can stop him from loving you. Maybe if you never have him to begin with, maybe you can save him. 

Yet Johnny is drawn to you anyways, sucked in by the way your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, like a moth to an infant flame. He hovers at the fringes of your soul, tries desperately to find his way inside, and you can’t help but let him. He comforts you when you cry against the futility of it all, and there’s nothing you can say to him to explain. You wet his shirt with your tears, knowing it’ll be the one he dies in.

The next time, you force yourself to not speak to him, to try and avoid him at all costs, try everything to drive him away. If he never loved you to start, then maybe he’ll live. He seems pre-ordained to find a way to confess to you, ask why you hate him so, look at you through glistening eyes and ask “What did I do?”

You wonder if maybe that’s destiny too, if it’s truly Soap falling in love with you, or his strings being pulled by the same machinations that inscribe his death. 

When he asks you again, tries to approach you with flowers and apologies, and offers to take you to dinner on the eve of his death, you wheel on him in desperate fury. 

“You don’t actually love me!” You cry, face hot with tears. “Can’t you see that?! All this time it’s just- it’s just the story we’re in. Just because you’re supposed to love me doesn’t mean you do. It’s all just a fucking lie.”

Soap is stunned, too shocked to speak. In all the dozens of lives you’d lived, you’ve never ever yelled at him before. 

Hurt flashes across his eyes. His eyes drop along with his hands, the bouquet limp in his grip. The bitterness of his smile as he refuses to look at you threatens to shatter your heart like glass. 

“You hate me.” He murmurs, as if to himself. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean tae…”

He falls silent, and eventually he walks away. 

You don’t get on the chopper this time. You can’t stand to watch him die again. 

You try to tell him again, ask him why. Why does he have to torture you like this? Why love you, why allow you to love him so deeply, only for him to leave at the end of this doomed story bound to repeat? Why would he love you?

He looks torn. He’s hurt. He wants to comfort you. He doesn’t know what to say

“Why wouldn’t I love you?” He asks in a whisper, devastated by your outburst. 

You can’t speak. You’re forbidden to tell him. You want to. You can’t.

“Bonnie-” He tries, stepping forward, trying to embrace you as if that will somehow solve everything. 

“No.” You manage, pressing backwards as he reaches for you, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. Pain dances across his eyes. “Go away, Johnny.”

He leaves. 

He dies anyway. 

When you wake up, your body feels weighed down with the passage of a hundred lifetimes, and your legs fall out from under you without warning. Johnny hauls you into his arms, his blue stare flickering with concern. 

You forgot how much you love being held by him. 

This time, you don’t push him away. In fact, you never do again.

Yet things are different now. It’s subtle at first, things you take for granted. Something in this story has changed, and in turn it’s changed him. Johnny walks into rooms and seems to forget why he’s there. He asks what day it is and frowns in confusion when Ghost replies blandly for the second time that day. 

“Didn’t you already tell us this?” He asks of Price during a meeting, and Gaz’s head snaps to him, to the smartness of his tone towards your captain. 

“No.” Price responds gruffly, succinctly, and continues on. You watch Soap, see the way he doesn’t seem to understand. His fingers tap on the table, and it’s a small gesture meant to conceal the worry in his eyes- the knowledge that maybe, maybe he’s been here before.

“I saw you in a dream, once.” He tells you one night as you both clamber onto the roof of the barracks to stare at the stars. “Before I even met you.”

You stare at him, and he laughs a little nervously, rubbing at his nape. “A bit crazy, eh? Sounds like am’ off ma heid.”

You shake your head, slide your hand over his, feel your heart thump when he looks at you in surprise. “Tell me.” You whisper, and when he smiles you shudder, feel the weight of destiny press heavy on your shoulders. 

“I saw you crying.” He murmurs, and his eyes are a little distant, like he’s looking back at a life that no longer exists. “I told you not to cry.”

“Don’t cry.” He wheezes when you bend over him, words pouring from your lips in a ceaseless mantra. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. “I always hated watching ye cry.”

This time, you nearly die beside him, and almost wish fate would take you too.

He has nightmares now. He thrashes in his bed, a cold sweat dampening his skin when he wakes. You ask him what it was, what vision plagues him, and he only shakes his head, eyes distant and terrified. He clings to you like he’s a little boy frightened by shadows, gazes at something you can’t see but know all the same. He doesn’t have the words, but he doesn’t need them.

You roll over one night, startled to find him wide awake, eyes unblinking as he stares at you. His voice sounds like an echo of himself, a dark magic winding through his words that sound like an all too familiar prophecy.

“I saw myself die.” He tells you, in a voice you’ve never heard- one you’ll never forget. “You were there- and then you weren’t.”

He finds bruises on himself the next morning, in the same places you watched him become riddled with bullet holes. 

You’re running out of time. You don’t know when you’ll wake up and he won’t be there. You don’t know if this will be the last time you ever see him. 

��Please.” You beg him, tugging on the straps of his vest as he steps towards the chopper. “Johnny please, don’t. Stay here. Don’t go.”

His eyes shine with worry at the sudden, fervent desperation in your words, and he opens his mouth to respond-

Only for his eyes to take on that foreign, distant stare once more.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, and once more you’re forbidden to tell him. 

Because you’ll die. Because I’ll be forced to watch. Because I have no way to stop it. Because I’ve seen it happen a hundred times and I can’t do it anymore.

Inevitably, you arrive here, and this singular moment in time, at the place where you’ve yet to find the part in which he survives. 

It always ends like this.

You survive the crash, fend off the ensuing ambush, weave past the landmines and the soldiers patrolling the perimeter, disable the electric fence and disarm the rigged door. You make it inside, stop him before he triggers the tripwire, disarm the pressure plate, lob the grenade back up the stairs, open fire on the door to his left before he passes it. You anticipate the reinforcements at your back, fix the radio when you signal for ex-fil, remember to give him your extra ammo. You know when the roof collapses and drag him to safety, point out the missed charge in his demolitions package, take out the turret before he even spots it-

Then you arrive here. 

“The detonator doesn’t work.” He tells you for the thirty sixth time, out of a hundred and forty eight lifetimes. You know what comes next. The chopper will get here, you will be overrun, and Johnny will kiss you one last time with an apology, push you into Gaz’s arms even as you scream. Then he’ll make his way to the control room without you all, will stay behind and make it his final, valiant act. 

Then you’ll watch the facility explode with him still inside, hear the gears of fate click and send you hurtling back to the beginning.

If you stop him, you’ll all be shot down. You’ll be the only survivor of the crash, and will see the broken bodies of your teammates join him. Or someone else will take his place, and your rescue chopper will be shot down anyways. 

There’s no escape. This is always the moment that you can’t save him from. Thirty six lifetimes and you know in just a few minutes you’ll wake up, will hear his voice begin it all again, over and over until one day you wake up and he isn’t there. 

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you.

You had a dream last time. You were both sitting at the restaurant table, and you spoke before he could. 

“Are you going to tell me how pretty I am?” You asked him, swallowing down grief, feeling it bloom like a macabre bouquet when the sound of his joyous laughter tickled your soul.

“Stole the words right from mah mouth.” He chuckled.

You blinked, and the seat across from you was suddenly empty. 

You close your eyes, in this moment, try once more to find the part where you all make it out alive. You try to find the part where you don’t lose him. Where you’ll go back to that restaurant and it’ll be the last time. 

You’ve had enough.

“I’m going to stay.” Soap declares, eyes grim with resolve. 

He turns to you.

You close the distance, reach up and kiss him. You tangle your fingers in his mohawk like you did the very first time, listen to his shocked gasp as you try and drink in the taste of him just one more time. Just one more time.

Honey and ale. A bittersweet goodbye. 

You snatch the detonator from his hands, raise your hands to his shoulders and push.

He topples backwards, nearly colliding with Price, and it gives you just enough time to bolt for the door leading towards the control room, locking it behind you. 

Soap screams your name, hurls himself at the door, frantic desperation coloring his beautiful blue eyes. The color of a sky in summer time, of a fresh breeze that reminds you so much of him.

There’s a nervous smile on his lips, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He thinks it’s a prank, another joke between you two, and he says just as much, voice wavering when he asks you to unlock the door. 

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” You whisper, tears warming your eyes. “I can’t lose you again.”

Confusion makes him pause, but it’s only for a moment. 

“Open the door.” He demands then, jiggling the lock uselessly as his voice rises. “OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!!”

“I love you.” You whisper, raising your hand to the glass pane, your splayed palm against his closed fist and the world between them. “In this lifetime, and the one before. Ever since the day I met you, I’ve loved you, Johnny.”

He calls your name, voice cracking in desperation and he begs you to come back. You take a few more moments, and think to yourself how unkind it is that the last time you see him will be like this. Afraid, broken, desperate.

Terrified.

Just like how he was all that time ago, the first time you failed to save him.

Not this time. 

“Don’t cry.” You tell him quietly. “I always hated watching you cry.”

You leave him even as he screams after you, running in the direction of the control room. 

You don’t know this part. You’ve only ever watched Johnny or one of them vanish in this direction. You aren’t prepared for this the way you are with the rest of this story. You’re not ready for the hail of gunfire that greets you, the bullets ripping through flesh. Your blood drips red onto the floor, you run low on ammo, and yet somehow you press on.

Not this time. You think. Not ever again. You can’t take him from me any longer. I won’t allow it.

You’re limping, heavily wounded, riddled with bullet holes, chest seizing and smearing an abstract of crimson behind you as you finally make it to the control room. By the time you dispatch the remaining soldiers you’re on the floor, feeling the corners of your vision pulse red and black as the gears turn, as the clock ticks down. 

The timer has just enough time to make it out once you start it. You know you won’t be able to. 

So you watch the numbers click on the countdown, flop onto your back and cry.

You didn’t want this. 

You wanted just a little more time. Maybe you should have let him go, let him finish this if only he can wake up and not know you. Maybe you should have let him die one more time, if only to get the chance to fall asleep in his arms months into the future and past, knowing he was going to die. 

It’s too late now, and as the numbers click down, as your heartbeat thrums in your ears and your vision pulses red, you can only try to remember the feeling of his smile against your lips, the sound of his laughter, your name breathed into your skin as he wraps his arms around you, safe from destiny in his embrace.

“Ever since the moment I first saw you, I’ve loved you.”

You love him. You’ve always loved him. In this lifetime, in the hundred lifetimes before. In a thousand lifetimes to come you will still love him. Even if you go back, wake up again to that warm spring day, you know you will only love him once more.

You wish he was here, at the end, and wish that even if he was he’d find a way to live without you.

When you exhale, it’s the sound of his name, the memory of his eyes as they stare across you from the restaurant table, full of endless devotion.

The world goes dark. 

And then you wake up.

It’s bright. 

You don’t expect what comes next. 

There’s no birdsong. No springtime warmth. Only the beep of a heart monitor, the feeling of cottony sheets tucked into a hospital bed, the fluorescent glow of overhead lights. 

And the sound of a voice. 

Johnny is holding your hand, head bowed, tears falling freely down his face. 

“I did it.” He sobs, words choking his throat, shoulders trembling. 

Whole. Alive. Just like you. 

“I did it.” He cries again, looking up and finding your eyes with his that swim with emotion. When he speaks, it sounds like the weight of a hundred lifetimes presses down on him. 

“This time. This time, I saved you.”

Taglist: @soapskneebrace @guyfieriii @writeforfandoms @alicesfracturedmirror

#john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #Soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #my writing #my fic #to add to masterlist #Alex play Dumb Ways to Die

[flowercrowngods]

dio. 🤍

ao3 • writing tag • time travel au tag (stories & snippets) steddie drabbles & microfics ☕️ ko-fi vibes only. mostly steddie, sometimes clarkson.

🌷 WIPs & multi-chaptered stories

➤ i’ll try. i’ll try. (but i couldn’t be better) WIP M | 74k | 12/? | time travel au, angst, steve whump Sent back to 1983, Steve tries to save his friends from everything that's coming and takes on the battle against the Upside Down alone with El by his side.

➤ nice to meet you, where you been? T | 12k | 3/3 | tattoo shop au, pure fluff, trans eddie Chrissy sends Eddie to check out a tattoo shop. Little does he know it belongs to Steve Harrington, or that they’ll both be falling for each other at lightning

➤ untitled knight!Steve / bard!Eddie WIP T | 10k | 2/? | tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | ... regency au (freeform), enemies to lovers Eddie is a bard of great renown who returns to Hawkins ready and willing to spite the people who cast him out all his life. He is in search of his muse: the knight Dustin has been writing to him about who has inspired his greatest ballads and poems. Dustin’s Sir Steve is nowhere to be found, but Lord Harrington seems to hold a grudge against Eddie and he wants to find out why.

➤ see the stars shining through the cracks of my broken heart | steddie week fic T | 14.7k | 3/3 | tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 in which Eddie and Chrissy get engaged and Steve is heartbroken. yearning ensues. a story about love requited and unrequited, breaking and healing, and hope (steddie & buckingham)

➤ shattered on the cliff’s edge, trapped by the tides WIP M | 5.8k | 2/7 | tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | ... A steddie ghost story. Steve Harrington, disgraced and disowned by his father for moral insanity, has been haunted by eerie dreams of a mysterious lighthouse ever since he was a little boy. His lighthouse quickly turns from recurring night terror to gruesome reality when his superior delegates him to fix the broken light and be the new keeper. But he soon finds out that it is he who is being kept.

➤ tales of blue | who did this to you? WIP M | 13k | 3/4 | tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | Eddie POV, pre-s4, injured Steve, hurt/comfort One summer's day in 1985, Eddie finds a very injured Steve in the boathouse, and even though he doesn't want the kind of trouble that this might bring, he can't just leave him there. So, scared though he is, he takes Steve to the one person he trusts to always make everything better.

➤ untitled kas!eddie / steve WIP M | 5.3k | 1/? | tumblr: part 1 | post-canon, hurt/comfort, enemies steddie The extent of his brain injuries and the intensity of his migraines is something Steve has been keeping secret from everyone. When he goes to Kas to let him feed, however, the sudden blood loss gives him a migraine. Kas decides to take care of him.

one shots & ficlets under the cut (ao3) -> ao3 link in the tumblr fic post

🌷 fluff & floaty

floor time fic (ao3) Eddie POV, falling in love, fluff, neurodivergent steddie

eddie likes Good Words (ao3) Steve POV, stablished relationship, neurodivergent steddie, echolalia

rambly Steve in love Eddie POV, established relationship, love confession

soft insomniacs (ao3) Eddie POV, short trans Eddie, soft Steve, bickering, established relationship

3 am phone call (ao3) Steve POV, soft, pre-relationship

car ride in love Eddie POV, floaty, boys in love, Andante, Andante

stargazing Steve POV, floaty & soft, boys in love

sick fic Eddie POV, domestic fluff & silliness, steve is sick, eddie is in love

first kiss Eddie POV, floaty, boys in love

loving eddie munson (is a full body experience) (ao3) Steve POV, floaty, boys in love, introspection, love confessions

floaty steddie date hours Eddie POV, established relationship, date night, marriage proposals, softness, dancing in the rain

sick fic 2 (woollen bat hat) Eddie POV, sick!Steve, soft boyfriends in love, cuddling, Eddie reads Momo to Steve

🌷 yearning

✨yearning hours (a-side) (ao3) Eddie POV, heart-wrenching yearning, light imagery, (mis)communication, vulnerability, first kiss

✨yearning hours (b-side) (ao3) Steve POV, insecurity, trauma, darkness imagery, vulnerability, first kiss

✨yearning hours (bonus track) (ao3) Eddie POV, light imagery, vulnerability, getting together

summer nights were made for steve (ao3) Eddie POV, yearning, getting together, the stars are pretty but steve is prettier

✨yearning hours (hidden track) (ao3) Steve POV, floaty music, getting together, sudden love confession, pining, A Flock of Seagulls

✨ high yearning make-out fic (smutty) (ao3) Eddie POV, recreational drug use, dry humping, coming in pants, so much yearning, so much kissing, spicy six as friends

🌷 hurt/comfort

insomniac eddie & human weighted blanket steve Eddie POV, developing relationship, comfort

Eddie being inexperienced at relationships Eddie POV, established relationship, dramatic eddie, boys in love, cuddles

spiralling writer eddie Eddie POV, established relationship, comfort, emotionally intelligent steve

‘You’d be a great dad’ Eddie POV, established relationship, insecure Eddie, comfort

steve has seizures (ao3) Steve POV, angst, self-isolation, seizures, post-s3, found family, background steddie

nonverbal steve gets a hug (ao3) Steve POV, established steddie, nonverbal steve, caring eddie, touch starved steve

sensory overload steddie Steve POV, soft boys, building relationship, nonverbal steve, touch-averse eddie, floor time as the cure

🌷 angst & hurt/no comfort

spiralling steve Steve POV, traumatised steve, nonverbal steve, established steddie, eventual comfort

breakup Steve POV, steve is not okay, breaking up

My Boy Steve POV, major character death, post-s4, inspired by My Girl funeral scene

memory wipe musings Steve POV, post-canon, established relationship, breakup-ish

post-breakup steddie Steve POV, a follow-up for @steddieas-shegoes prompt-fill | years after breaking up with steve eddie writes him a letter and they talk, mentions of drug abuse and rehab, starting over, 2nd chances (it's hopeful but it's kinda really sad)

knightmærs Eddie POV, prince!steve, traitor!eddie, lovers to enemies who are still lovers but it's intrigue, brainwashing, torture, eddie whump, manipulation, open ending, violence & threats of death

🌷 smut(ish)

steve wants to hear eddie Eddie POV, established relationship, anal sex

sexytimes in a tent Steve POV, trying not to get caught, established relationship, hand jobs

sub!kas eddie (drabble) (tag for more) Steve POV, good boy kas, soft dom steve

school reunion sex Eddie POV, chubby!steve, dom-ish top steve, belly kink, light degradation kink, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, reunion sex, good boy eddie

misc. & gen

steve and nancy finally have A Talk Steve POV, apologies, communicating like adults, making up, platonic stancy

steve and mike coming out to each other (ao3) Steve POV, bisexual lighting, established background steddie, mike & steve sibling relationship

why'd you jump? (ao3) conversation at the quarry, coming out (kinda), working through trauma together, steve & mike sibling relationship, big brother Steve | cw: could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

a study in grief: steve and mike talking about barb (ao3) Steve POV, Barb's death anniversary, Barb was Mike's friend, grief, mourning, big brother Steve, Mike character study

stobin arsonist tendencies (drabble) Steve POV, robin wants to burn down steve's car and house, fucked up platonic besties, neurodivergent swag

🌷 i'll try-verse (time travel au) oneshots

steve takes el to see her first meteor shower

el calls steve magic

eddie finds nonverbal steve

tina's party steddie hug

steve meets wayne

clarkson fics

meet-sweet | kids duty (ao3) clarkson origin post with @unclewaynemunson. Wayne POV, first meeting, slow burn, pre-relationship, soft

coursework, caffeine and cuddles (ao3) teacher student!steve, domestic fluff, established clarkson & steddie, found family

if i fell in love with you (ao3) Scott POV, soft, established relationship, domestic fluff, If I Fell

home. (ao3) Scott POV, comfort, floaty, established relationship, after-school car ride, domesticity

quiet. (ao3) Scott POV, hurt/comfort, domesticity, established relationship, wayne doesn’t like how quiet scott’s house gets

don’t let go (i won’t) (ao3) Scott POV, hurt/comfort, found family, post-s4, shared trauma, steddie, established relationship, wayne gets a bad flashback and scott calls steddie for help

ronance fics

snow angels for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six winter fic challenge, Nancy POV, pining, first kiss, getting together

yearning hours (ao3) Nancy POV, pining, yearning, realisations, pre-relationship, semi-floaty

#steddie #clarkson #flowercrowngods masterlist #masterlist #all my fics are just vibes tbh #there are some misc ficlets in the writing tag still but eh these are the ones i think are okay

[tgm-all4one]

On May 27, 2022, Top Gun: Maverick was released exclusively into theaters. Almost overnight, it became a cultural phenomenon with a fandom of individuals from all over the globe who loved the movie and its characters.

One of the fantastic things about the TG and TGM fandom is the diverse and innovative creators who have used these movies as inspiration for their art. Whether that be in the form of writing, fanart, GIFs, moodboards, edits, etc, we have all taken the same 4 hours and 1 minute of film to create unbelievably varied and original content. And that is what this challenge is about.

What is the "It's not the prompt. It's the creator." challenge?

The idea behind the "It's not the prompt. It's the creator." challenge is to show that even though we might all use similar tropes or AUs, or create GIFs of the same scenes, or use the same moodboard themes, it is our own personal creativity, innovation, and preferences that make our work unique.

So unlike other challenges, everyone will be using the exact same prompt. That's it. One prompt. And an unlimited amount of participants.

And yes, there will probably be art that is similar (either the tropes, themes, characters, etc), however the point is to show that even when two creators have similar independent ideas, their final creation is unique because they put their own original spin on it that only they could do.

What is the prompt?

To celebrate the one-year anniversary of Top Gun: Maverick being released, the prompt is:

"Last summer was one no one could ever forget. Now, a year later, character(s) still feel(s) the effects of that time."

Be as creative as you want and feel free to use any characters from Top Gun (1986) and/or Top Gun: Maverick (2022). Also, while the prompt says a year has passed, there is no set time your art has to be set. It can be pre-canon, post-canon, during-canon, and AU setting, etc. Whatever inspires you!

What is allowed?

Whatever you want. It can be SFW, NSFW, slash, reader insert, OC, no relationship, poly, AU, fluff, smut, angst, whump, etc.

You can also use whatever your preferred medium is to fill the prompt. Writing, artworks, GIF sets, edits, moodboards, playlists, Pinterest boards, etc. Or think out of the box and build a scene out of Legos, make a stop-motion video, draw a flipbook. Whatever inspires you and your creativity! If you created it, it counts.

And there are no minimums or maximums limits for words, time, number of GIFs, etc. Just however much or little you want to share, even if it is still a WIP.

There are only three requirements:

TAG YOUR WORK APPROPRIATELY so others can filter out what they might not be comfortable with. Each post will be checked before being reblogged, however, mistakes can be made so please tag them correctly.

You must be 18+ to participate. Due to the freedom of the event and the fact NSFW content is allowed, only those 18 or older may participate. And if your blog does not have any age indicated on it (18+, 20s, over 21, 35, etc.), your post will not be reblogged. I am very sorry to any minors hoping to participate at this time.

No AI resources can be used as part of a submission. While AI can create cool works of art, they aren't your works of art. As that is the point of this challenge, it will not be permitted.

When does the event take place?

The event will start on Saturday, May 27 and run until Saturday, June 4. However, if you can't finish in time and post after that, this blog will try its best to still reblog your work whenever you feel ready to post.

How do we submit our work?

You can do this one of two ways:

Post your work on your blog as usual and tag @tgm-all4one. Also, tag the post with #tgm all4one. It will then be reblogged here throughout the week.

Submit a post to this blog using the "Submit your papers" button in the blog header. As long as it is tagged correctly, the blog will then post it throughout the week.

There is also an AO3 collection if you prefer to share over there. Please check the FAQ page for the link.

Please check out the FAQ page if you have any questions and please feel free to reach out either through an ask or DM if you have any questions! There is also a condensed version of this post here for quick reference.

I am excited to see what everyone comes up with and happy Top Gun: Maverick anniversary!

#tgm all4one #it's not the prompt. it's the creator. challenge #top gun maverick anniversary #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #natasha phoenix trace #javy coyote machado #reuben payback fitch #mickey fanboy garcia #tom iceman kazansky #beau cyclone simpson #bernie hondo coleman #nick goose bradshaw #carole bradshaw #ron slider kerner

[zombiekillerbiceps]

Three Times Leon Protected You (And One Time You Protected Him)

Note: Requested by anon (sort of)! This was fun as hell to write. Also fuck it no read more cut I'm on mobile

Content: cursing, 18+, Leon Kennedy x Gn Reader, they/them reader pronouns, protective Leon, light violence

-----

1. It was your second date together. You two decided to hit up the mini golf course off the highway. Gorging yourselves on bagged cotton candy, you two made light conversation about your hobbies and the most recent summer blockbuster. He was better at mini golf. By, like, a lot. His aim and timing was uncanny, and his force control was honestly impressive. He was totally winning.

You bent down to pick up another losing ball when a hissing whump sound right next to your ear made you stumble backwards. Leon's fist was curled away from you just centimeters away from where your head had just been. He relaxed it, and a golf ball fell out of his hand. It must have been travelling fast from the sound of it, but the only sign of discomfort that he gave was shaking out his hand. Shit, that thing really could have taken a chunk outta your head, and he just snatched it out of thin air like it was nothing.

"Pretty sure you just saved my life," you say with a smile.

"Does that guarantee a third date?"

-----

2. You two had been together, officially, for about two years. It was your birthday, and none of your friends could make it. It wasn't an act of cruelty, they simply had careers and families, some even had kids now! No one wanted to come out on a Sunday night and have to go to work or deal with a toddler in the morning. It still stung, but Leon did his best to make sure you had a good night anyways. He took you to a fancy cocktail bar where you got too drunk on cocktails with names like Private Dancer and Moonlit Night. Leon was paying while you waited by the door, keeping watch for the cab home. Some dude in a loud shirt with the popped collar started hitting on you. You roll your eyes and tell him your husband is paying, hoping the h-word would scare him off, but Frosted Tips was determined. He was drunk too, red-faced and uneven of stance, and he wasn't taking no for an answer. His hand lands on your hip. The action, so intimate it was reserved for Leon only, made you freeze. You push his hand away, but his other comes up, closing the space. Your body turns to stone, wanting to push him off but the weight of his presence pinning you down, hoping if you're still enough he'll give up and leave.

Leon's on him, as suddenly and ferociously as a crack of lightning. His hand is on Too Dark Spray Tan's shoulder, shoving him away. Your boyfriend slides in the space between the two of you. He was an immovable wall keeping you safe. His shoulders were taught, and despite also being nearly blind drunk, he was firm and purposeful. Controlled. You couldn't see his face from your position behind him, but the tautness in his back and the even spread of his legs confirmed how serious he was. The dude harassing you shut down, muttering a homophobic comment.

Leon turned back to you, his hand gently on your shoulder. His eyes tracked the dude across the room like an owl tracking prey, but when he finally tore his eyes away and met your own, his expression softened immediately.

"You okay?" He asks, soft. Concerned.

"Better now."

You mean it. You know you're safe with him.

-----

3. It takes six years of you two being together for his past to catch up to him. At first, you think the riots are associated with a recent political move. It doesn't take long on your daily commute to work to realize this is worse. Something is making people violent. You get to work, mostly because you're too far from home when you realize how fucking bad things are to turn around, and the intern goes berserk. You end up trapped in an office with your boss and a few others, armed with a broken wooden ruler and a stapler. The only thing between you and the raging... sick outside was a slim wooden door on one side and ten stories on the other side of a thick glass window. Your cell gets through to Leon and he orders you to stay in place.

"I'll come get you, just don't move unless you have to," he says. You put your phone on silent.

Things were already pretty bad. They get a whole lot worse when a blond man with a high brow and sunglasses strolls through the chaos like a composer across a stage. He's wearing a leather jacket and, if you didn't have the sinking feeling he was after you, you might have made a joke about him belonging on the set of the Matrix. He grabs you by the arm and drags you out of the office, the world parting around him like river around a rock. He takes you to the roof and it's there that a helicopter descends. Stepping off it is... Leon?

"What the fuck?" You stare at him, dressed in tactical gear and a big fucking gun in his hands. You aren't sure it's really him, except for the way his eyes soften when they meet yours.

"Oh, don't they know?" The blonde gripping your arm asks, squeezing hard enough you're afraid he'll crack the bone.

"Wesker..." Leon inches forward, one hand leaving his gun to stretch out between the two of them. "Let's just talk this through."

"You're not a cop anymore, Kennedy."

Leon doesn't flinch. His expression hardens, a cold look you've never seen on him takes the place of any softness once there.

"Don't make me do this the hard way," he says. He's continuing to inch forward.

You realize what he's doing.

"Then let's discuss the easy option," Wesker's voice is monotone - almost robotic. "I give them back, unharmed, and you give me Chambers."

"What do you need with her?" Leon takes another tentative step forward.

"I'm going to use her to complete my S-Virus -"

"You're gonna run out of letters one day," he jokes, or something similar to joking, if it weren't utterly humorless. "You know, the whole virus thing hasn't worked the last twelve times. Maybe it's time to change career paths."

"This is unlike any before -"

"Have you ever considered dog grooming? I think it would be healthier for you."

Another inch. Wesker doesn't even realize how close Leon's gotten.

"I could kill them without breaking a sweat and you're still-"

BAM.

Wesker's head flies back with a sharp crack. You use the moment to slip out of his grasp and run towards Leon. He's ushering you towards the helicopter. You turn towards him to yell at him, thinking yourself safe, when you see it behind his shoulder. Wesker's back was arched slightly back, but he was still standing. You feel your eyes widen in terror as something slimy and black and living throbs out of his forehead. He's slowly righting himself.

"Get mad at me later," Leon says. He takes aim, walking backwards, firing into Wesker's body. He casts the occasional glance at you to make sure you're safe behind him until you're on the helicopter.

----

1. Fifteen years together. After the Wesker Event, you were given clearance to know everything Leon did. The US Government had you sign a form essentially giving them permission to kill you if you said anything (not in as many words, of course). You learned combat basics, but Leon insisted on keeping you out of the thick of it. So, despite knowing the horrors that awaited your husband everytime he went on a mission, despite watching the darkness in his eyes grow, you stayed at home. Pursued a career in something safe, did laundry, took care of the dog until Leon got home and then you cooked dinner for the two of you. You were the harbour in the storm.

Until you got a call from a hospital in DC that your husband was injured in combat. You were escorted by two women in suits across the country, and by the next morning, you found yourself in a quarantined hospital face to face with some fucking decorated general denying you permission to even look at him.

"What was the point of calling me down here?! Let me fucking see him!" You're causing a scene. You know it. But the rage batters against your rib cage like a wild beast.

"Si-... Mx, I need you to calm down," he says.

"Calm down?!" You take a deep breath, about ready to scream, when a warm hand lands on your shoulder. You look up to see Redfield, battered and tired and... Old. He shakes his head. You chew your words.

"He was injured during combat with a BOW. He may be infected. Letting you in could risk not only your safety, but the world's."

"He isn't a risk to me." You push past the general. You shove the doors to his room wide open, desperate to just see him for yourself.

You aren't prepared for how bad he looks. His face is swollen almost beyond recognition, his body laying with a limpness he didn't even have when he was asleep. If it weren't for how well you knew the birthmarks and freckles on his body, you would almost believe it wasn't him.

Soliders are rushing in to drag you out but Redfield steps in. You've made your choice, he tells them. If Leon wakes up and eats you, that was on you.

For days, you meet with doctors and officials and suits. He might never wake up, the doctors tell you. He's a danger to public safety, the officials tell you. You overhear the suits talking about the possibility of putting him down while he's defenseless.

They were really going to kill him in a coma because of what he might be infected with.

That is when you stepped up as his guardian. You meet with doctors from all over the world, military lawyers, philosophers. You spend weeks worth of time tied up on the phone, and days worth signing papers (and not signing papers). You get seven different doctors from seven different countries to examine him and confirm his vitals are all normal and expected for someone in his condition. Dr. Chambers herself confirms there isn't a trace of G-virus or any of its daughter strains in him.

You build your case. The logical argument is that there is no empirical evidence that Leon is a threat, backed up by thorough medical reports and several professional witnesses. The moral argument: it was morally wrong to kill a defenseless man because he might be a threat if he wakes up. Not even the government should have that power. The empathetic argument came last.

"Give me five minutes in front of a judge and jury, and I can convince them the only person who can pull the plug is his spouse."

You liquidated a lot of assets, keeping a humble apartment and your dog. You got permission to crack open his bank account to pay for the lawyers, seeing as you were his spouse, and the bank couldn't argue that. It was about a year in when you got a call from an enigmatic woman - you'd later figure out was Wong, on your way to work that the government was planning to just collapse that entire wing of the hospital. You called Redfield, had him post up there when you couldn't be there.

When he was sent away, strategically, you called in the other Redfield. Valentine. Piers. Helena. Everyone you could get your hands on. You called in every favour Leon was owed and then you made you own. And when, one after the other, they were forced away, you hired a friend of Wong's.

It took years. It exhausted everything you had, but even when you felt like giving up, you were immovable. You were his spouse. You would not leave his side until it killed you. And even then, Redfield was pretty sure you'd haunt the hospital.

You won the court case. It brought some relief. Leon wasn't under threat of being murdered. But, it came with sinking disappointment too. There was nothing left to do now except sit with him, and wait. That was the worst part of those long years. The silent, still weeks in a sterile room with a victory that still didn't return your husband to you.

It was just before your twentieth anniversary that he finally woke up. You made sure you were the first person he saw, and you stayed by his side through the ensuing mess of tests and rehabilitation. You slowly revealed the extent you had to go to keep him safe. He seemed so impressed with you. He calls you his hero after that, though you don't really think you deserve it. You convince him to retire. And you two live out the rest of your lives safe and content, protecting each other in the ways you knew how to.

#resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy fanfic #protective leon #i suck at tagging idk if you liked it consider rbing #anyways! i hope you enjoy it anon!

[thewiz9062]

Smiling Critters AU: General ideas

NOTE: THIS IS NOT RELATED TO CANON IN THE SLIGHTEST. An accurate description of this au is that I took every playtime.co poster art and promotional material from the game and lit up the rest of canon in a bonfire. This means that EVERY character is part of one big cartoon. That's it. No bigger bodies project, no child souls, no experiments, just a depiction of a cartoon. PLEASE do not ask me to do anything suggestive with anyone.

TLDR: No freaky shit, don't ask me for freaky shit.

OK here we go

Every smiling critter is abt 11-12 and in their second semester in middle school (yes they're minors)

They all live in a city/neighborhood

Characters like Mommy long legs, Huggy wuggy, etc exist, but these are adults

Mommy long legs is the principal (listen instead of the horse heels going down the hall she just pokes her head out of the vents it's free real estate)

Dogday is the new kid

Dogday is the one who made everyones necklace after they're all friends. The art that I make while releasing character stores will probably counteract this, but they feel so empty without them.

Player exists, but as a cartoon as well. You know characters like Larry from tawog or Ms. Rabbit from Peppa Pig? Yeah, the one with 22 million jobs. That's player. They invented the grabpack to help them with their jobs as well.

Every day, the critters get one hour of uninterrupted free time to go and do what they want (this is during he school semester, they have unlimited time during the summer cuz yeah) they call it their hour of joy. (:D)

The school arc is mostly backstory and......alot of angst ngl.(I'm gonna warn you now that there is a character that's one big whump, but we all know who that is) Once I finish with that, then we get into fluffy stuff and adventures.

Honestly, depending on the media you've seen before, this will be either the most creative au ever or stereotypical trash, so uh, be warned

I will eventually try and make this a fic so watch out for that ig

Character story No.1 will he Craftycorn, which will probably be out shortly. Anyways BYE

#alternate universe #smiling critters poppy playtime #poppy playtime #craftycorn #kickinchicken #bubba bubbaphant #hoppy hopscotch #bobby bearhug #picky piggy #catnap #dogday #huggy wuggy #mommy long legs

[softblesses]

Summer Colds.

In which Neal and Elizabeth suffer, and Peter is there to fix it.

Pretty much another classic sick fic of my favourite hyperfixation rn! Please don’t reblog to non kink/whump blogs. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1.

“You’re sick,” Mozzie stated matter of factly, whilst wandering alongside Neal, in the streets of New York.

“I’m fine.” Neal muttered back, rubbing a knuckle under his nose in an attempt to put a stop to the itch.

“You’re not fine! You never sneeze. Like, ever, so unless you can explain the past ten minutes? I’m staying ten steps away, my friend. Ten. Steps. Away.”

“Mozz, you’re being dramatic. It’s nothing, it’s just —“ Neal stopped walking, bringing his elbow to his face. Mozzie was right, but he was hanging on to the small dregs of hope that this was all random and he wasn’t getting sick after all.

‘Heh’kshu!’ The sneezes told a different story.

“Gesundheit. Now, why don’t we do the sensible thing and double back to June’s instead of breakfast? You can go to bed, I’ll get you some medicine and then I’ll make scarce!” Mozzie took a few steps back towards Neal, rolling his eyes at the sound of his cellphone ringing.

He folded his arms, tapping his foot as he listened to his friend speak. “The suit wants you to work?” He questioned, after Neal hung up.

“Elizabeth’s workplace got robbed,” Neal explained, pocketing the phone. “She’s okay, but Peter wants to investigate. Don’t look at me like that, Moz. It’s just a stuffy nose. It’s probably just… allergies, or something.”

“You don’t get any kind of pollen allergies, wise guy.” Mozzie pointed out. “Let me know if El needs my… expertise. I’ll be at breakfast, while you go and tango with the bureau, Sneezy.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you later, Mozzie.” Neal watched him walk away, checking his watch; Peter would be here to pick him up soon.

After almost ten minutes, Peter was parking by the sidewalk and Neal climbed into the back seat; they were picking up Elizabeth, so he naturally assumed she’d go up front.

“Hey, Neal.” Peter greeted, and it was already obvious he was stressed.

“I’m sure Elizabeth is fine,” Neal replied, buckling his seatbelt.

His handler only sighed, driving off again. “I told her to stay home today,” he continued, without acknowledging Neal’s statement.

“Stay home?”

“Yeah… she’s sick, and she already worked from home for a couple days. I just — well, El thinks I’m being too dramatic. It’s just a cold, but, still.”

Ah. That explains how Neal caught what he has. “You worry a lot,” he confirmed. “But, I’m sure Elizabeth appreciates it. She’ll be okay, and I’m sure she’ll work from home tomorrow.”

There was a long pause, before Peter sighed again. They stopped in traffic, and he took a look in the mirror back at Neal. “Maybe you’re right,” he hummed.

“I’m right? Really?”

“Alright, don’t push it.”

“Are you sure you’re not getting sick?” Neal teased, although unbeknownst to Peter he was the one feeling under the weather; Neal’s throat itched, and so did his ears, and he couldn’t breathe through his nose or he’d sniffle and it would make him sneeze again.

“My immune system is top notch, and you know it.” Peter pointed out. “I’m feeling fine.”

“Even when sleeping with Elizabeth?”

Peter shot him a glare in the mirror, and Neal held up his hands. I meant sleeping as in sharing a bed! That’s a sure fire way to get sick.” He scrunches his nose, trying his best to quell the ever growing itch.

“Huh. And, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” The man jested back, falling quiet as they neared their destination.

Neal rolled his eyes at Peter’s comment, but for lack of energy and realisation that he was about to park the car again, he stayed quiet. Peter told him to stay put, and explained that he wasn’t going in as FBI — Elizabeth had a bunch that the lead thief was one of her colleagues. It was an interesting sounding case, but right now the CI was too focused on holding back a sneeze. And, as soon as Peter had closed his car door and stepped away from it, Neal buried his face into his elbow and inhaled sharply.

‘Hh’sSHhu, k—tch’tcH. Ugh. Shit.’ He sighed, making quick work of blowing his nose into the handkerchief in his pocket, placing it back just in time for Peter to open the door for Elizabeth.

“Honey, I promise, I’m fine — hey, Neal — a little shaken up, I guess, but I feel alright! You worry too much.” Elizabeth huffed a little, waiting for her husband to get in the car beside her. She didn’t sound extremely sick, but Neal could definitely hear the congestion in her voice.

Peter climbed in the car, and leaned across to feel El’s forehead. She didn’t look impressed. “I know, I know. I worry too much! We have to take your statement back at the office, is that okay? I’ll work from home after that.”

Neal’s eyebrows raised a little at that.

“You’re coming too, Neal. You’re not getting out of work that easily.” It was like Peter had read his mind. “We can —“

‘hu’tsh, tch, tshh. . Huh’tcHoo.’

“Bless you,” Peter and Neal rang in sync, whilst the agent continued to rub his wife’s back.

“Sorry,” El apologised softly, pocketing her tissue and leaning back in the seat with a heavy sigh.

“It’s okay, Hon. Neal, I’ll explain everything to you when we get to my place. Let’s get this statement over with so we can all relax.” Peter leaned across to kiss El on the cheek, before starting up the car.

•••

The conference room was dark, with the shutters closed and the lights turned off. It was like a welcoming blanket of calm, and immediately Neal felt the ache in his head dissipate a little. He quietly closed the door, glancing over at El, who was sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone, on low brightness mode.

“Neal,” she greeted softly. “Everything okay?”

“Peter sent me to check on you,” it was only a tiny, white lie. “And, I’d much rather sit in here with you. Peter gets grumpy when he’s worried.” Neal muttered, wandering in and closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth watched him for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Really? No other reason?” She questioned, still watching him.

“No other reasons.” Neal took a seat in one of the spinning chairs by the conference room table, and rubbed his eyes. They were almost as itchy as everything else; his nose itched, his ears felt stuffy as well as itchy. . . He was starting to feel worse, and if anyone was going to figure him out, it was Elizabeth Burke.

“Neal, are you okay? You’ve been acting off since we were in the car.” Elizabeth pressed on, and Neal sighed in semi-defeat.

“If I told you I had a headache, would you stop asking?” Neal muttered, trying not to sound agitated, and somewhat failing.

There was a pause, and El coughed slightly. “No. Does your throat hurt?” She continued, and Neal spun a little in his chair.

“Maybe.”

“Stuffy nose?”

“A little.”

“So, you’re sick. I knew it.” Elizabeth muttered.

“Which means, this is my fault,” she concluded next. “I’m sorry, Neal.”

He shook his head, reaching into his pocket for the silk handkerchief he’d been hiding away. He rubbed at his nose, and sniffled; revealing the oncoming congestion he’d been trying so hard to cover up for the past couple of hours. “It’s not your fault,” Neal finally spoke, pocketing the handkerchief.

“Know anyone else with a summer cold?” El quipped back, and he could imagine the look she was currently giving him.

With a heavy sigh, Neal leaned to rest his head against his arms, on the tabletop in front of him. “Elizabeth B — wait, what’s your middle name?” Neal asked, sitting up again and squinting over at her.

“Why?”

“Just.. humour me, just for a second.”

“It’s Laura.”

Neal inhaled, and stood up. “Elizabeth Laura Burke, why are you so irritatingly observant?” He exhaled, sniffling afterwards.

A laugh fell from her lips at that, which proceeded into a cough covered by a fist. “Marrying an FBI agent might have had something to do with it,” she smiled, patting the space next to her. “Neal George Caffrey, you know it’s alright to let your guard down here, hmm?” El’s voice softened, watching him as he sat.

He shifted slightly, and El could tell that he was uncomfortable. Although, the eventual albeit very quiet “I know,” was comforting. “That’s why I told you so easily.” Neal murmured, leaning back against the couch with a shiver.

“And, because whatever meds you dosed up with this morning are starting to wear off?” Elizabeth teased, gently reaching to feel his forehead. A little warm, but nothing alarming.

“Stop being right.” Neal grumbled, before quickly leaning away and burying his face into the crook of his arm.

‘Hu—ngxT. . . HheisHhhoo—ugh.”

“Bless you,” Elizabeth murmured, rummaging around in her purse for a new packet of tissues, and gently nudging him before offering them out.

Neal practically whined, taking a moment to use one of the tissues, before leaning back against the couch with another little shiver. Elizabeth frowned, about to suggest asking Peter to take them home sooner, when the glass door behind them opened.

“Sorry that took so long,” Peter’s voice announced. “Ready to go?”

The CI’s demeanour was quick to change — he sat up straight, cleared his throat and plastered on a signature Neal Caffrey smile in greeting. “Am I still coming?” He questioned nonchalantly, scrunching his nose and trying his absolute best not to sniffle again.

“Yep,” Peter responded. “We’re working from home today. Which means better coffee and some proper rest for El.” He offered out his hand for his wife, who stood and wandered towards him. She took a glance back at Neal, that was wordlessly saying ‘are you going to tell him, or am I?’ But, the CI simply followed behind them, shaking off whatever discomfort he was currently feeling for now.

Seconds after leaving the comfort of the dark room behind them, both Elizabeth and Neal squinted at the harsh lighting that illuminated the bullpen. Barely seconds later, the pair both paused and comedically in sync sneezes caused Peter to stop in his tracks and turn. “Bless y—whoever just sneezed.” He frowned, watching his wife continue to do so, and Neal turn around to put his back to him.

‘Hhh—ngxXt.’ The CI spun back around, sniffling desperately, and faced with a quizzical look from Peter.

“What, you’re sick too, now?” He questioned, folding his arms.

Neal shook his head. “The lights are too bright, Peter. You should really get someone to — snf — fix that.” He straightened himself up, and glanced sideways at El, who didn’t seem all that pleased with the holdup.

“Right,” Peter muttered, gesturing for the pair to follow him again.

“You wouldn’t understand. Having striking blue eyes isn’t all fun and games,” Neal continued, ignoring the look he got from Elizabeth beside him. He didn’t want to tell Peter he felt lousy, not yet. It was awkward, and he wasn’t used to being so open about vulnerability… besides, he just needed some more meds and he’d be fine to work the case.

On the elevator ride back down, El wrapped her arms around Peter and rested her head against his chest. It was obvious that her meds were wearing off too, although all Neal could do was uncomfortably shift on his feet until they reached the parking garage. He shivered, rubbing his eyes again, and followed Peter and El to the car in silence. Even when sitting in the back, he was uncharacteristically quiet, and at this point Peter wasn’t very convinced that his excuses earlier were true… because, a quiet Neal Caffrey was always something to be suspicious of.

When they got back, El told Neal to wait upstairs and she’d find him something comfortable to wear. Peter waited until the CI was out of earshot, before turning to his wife with a questioning expression. He led her into the living room, bringing her into his arms and waiting a moment before speaking.

“El,” he began. “What’s wrong with Neal?” He figured that if Neal was going to tell anyone, it would probably be El.

His wife faltered, looking up at him with a slightly guilty look. “Why would he tell me?” She replied, resting her head back against Peter’s chest with a congested sigh.

“Because you’re Elizabeth Burke — kind, soft, warm and caring. I can imagine Neal would talk to you, given the right circumstances… you were alone, maybe his guard was down.”

“Well, I kinda guessed. He eventually told the truth.” Elizabeth admitted. “I feel awful about it. I didn’t want to get anyone sick.”

Peter pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Speaking of awful, how are you feeling now?” He asked, leaning back to look at her.

“A little less than awful.”

“But, not great?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “D’you still need me to help with anything in the case?” She asked quietly.

“All I need for you to do is go and change into something comfortable and lie down. We can talk work later, once you’ve rested. I’ll come check on you in a half hour… I guess I should check on Neal too, huh?”

“I’ll check on him before I go to bed. I love you.”

#snzblr #snz #sneezeblr #sickfic #snz scenario #w/hite co/llar #n/eal is so cute I love him #I just love them #I hope y’all like this!! probably one or two more parts to come #snz thoughts

[gritpyre]

Whump Girl Summer Day 1 - Begging

AND SO it begins Alma’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

#waw2023 #whumgirlsummer #begging #whump #whump art #lady whump #monster #buff women #artist #digital art #whump event #monster oc #monster whump #werewolf #werejaguar #lycanthrope #digital drawing #artwork #my art #my ocs #alma guerrero #asphyxos salazar

[daryfromthefuture]

Got a new laptop yesterday, that's why I didn't update yesterday.

For @summer-of-whump , day 4: (alt. Prompt) Blindfolded

#summer of whump prompts #summer of whump [4] #summer of whump [alt. 1] #summer of whump 2022 #back to the future #bttf #doc brown #marty mcfly #bttf fic

[hermesmyplatonicbeloved]

Ongoing Fandom Events

Idk about you guys, but finding PJO events to participate in is hard. Here are a few, happening on tumblr and/or ao3. Feel free to participate, or just enjoy the fanworks! Also feel free to check out @/pjobulletinboard for events I might've missed.

Last Updated Feb 4th, 2024. I'm updating this post regularly, so make sure and view the original post on my blog for the most recent updates.

Edit: If you know of an event and want to add it to this list, send me an ask with the link or tumblr blog tag.

9 - 2024 Events:

Rare Love of Olympus @/percabeth4life

Date: Jan 8-12, 2024 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Rare pairs (any ship with less than 100 fanworks on ao3), open to both platonic and romantic relationships Other Criteria: No min/max wordcount

Spring Squinox Gift Exchange @/percyjacksongiftexchange

Date: Feb 16th-March 19th, 2024 Type: Exchange Ships/Characters: Any Other Criteria: Min 1000 words. No max wordcount. All fics must be completed by deadline.

PJO Equinox-Solstice Exchange @/pjo-equinox-solstice-exchange

Date: Jan 22-March 24, 2024 Type: Exchange Ships/Characters: Any Other Criteria: no NSFW, min 1000 words for fic or 1 drawing for artists etc. (see post for details)

Jasico Bingo Challenge: Valentines's Day @/jasico-challenge

Date: Feb 2024 Type: Bingo Ships/Characters: Jason Grace/Nico di Anglo Other Criteria: No min/max wordcount. NSFW allowed.

Febuwhump 2024 (multi-fandom) @/febuwhump

Date: Feb 2024 Type: Month long prompt event (29 prompts for 29 days) Ships/Characters: Any Other Criteria: NSFW is allowed. Prompts should be answered in the form of whump.

PJO/HoO Big Bang, Summer 2024 (unconfirmed) @/pjo-hoo-bigbang

Date: Summer 2024 Type: Big Bang Ships/Characters: Any Other Criteria: No NSFW. Min 8k for one-shots and 20k for multi-chaptered fics. No max wordcount.

Hades/Percy Fest @/hadesxpercy-events

Date: May 26-June 1, 2024 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Percy Jackson/Hades and Percy Jackson/Hades/Persephone. Other Criteria: NSFW allowed. No min/max word count. See post for more details.

Polympians Event @/takaraphoenix

Date: May 28-June 21, 2024 Type: Fest (14 prompts for 28 days) Ships/Characters: Percy Jackson/Any god. Rare pairs welcomed. Other Criteria: No min/max word count. NSFW and SFW allowed.

Percico/Nicercy Fest Week @/percico-nicercy-events

Date: August 18-24, 2024 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo Other Criteria: No min/max wordcount.

16 - 2023 Events (Possibly Re-Occurring):

Lavinia Asimov Week @/oranglesswrld

Date: Feb 28-March 6, 2023 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Lavinia Asimov Other Criteria: Include Lavinia's Jewish heritage, any fanwork type is welcomed.

The Trials of Apollo - A Mini Bang @/toa-minibang

Date: March 19 - August 31, 2023 Type: Bang Ships/Characters: Any from TOA (?) Other Criteria: Join discord server (on the post) for more details.

Riordanverse Flash Fic Fridays @/drewtanakaweek

Dates: March 24, March 31, April 7, April 14, May 12, May 19, May 26, June 2 Type: Flash Fiction Ships/Characters: Any Other Criteria: No min/max word count.

ToApril 2023 @/plumblossom37

Date: April 2023 Type: Month long prompt event (1 prompt per day) Characters/Ships: Apollo, Meg. Other Criteria: no NSFW. Keep it toa-related.

Seafam Mermay 2023 @/seafamblr

Date: May 2023 Type: Month long prompt event (1 prompt per day) Ships/Characters: Percy Jackson, Poseidon, Tyson, Amphitrite, Triton, Kymopoleia etc. Other Criteria: No min/max word count.

Percy's DILFs Week @/percys-tits

Date: May 30 - June 5, 2023 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Percy Jackson/any father character. Criteria: SFW and NSFW welcomed.

Odyssey of Percy @/stucksolangelo

Date: June 2023 Type: Month long prompt event (2 prompts per week) Ships/Characters: Percy Jackson/Any (crack ships encouraged) Other Criteria: Min 100 words a week. No max word count.

Solangelo Week 2023 @/solangeloweek

Date: June 18-24, 2023 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Will Solace/Nico di Angelo Other Criteria: Any type of fanwork accepted.

Sapphic Summer Riordanverse 2023 @/sapphic-summer-riordanverse-2023

Date: June 28-24, 2023 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Any F/F ships. Other Criteria: No min/max wordcount.

Perpollo Week 2023 @/perpollo

Date: July 9-15, 2023 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Percy Jackson/Apollo Other Criteria: No min/max word count.

Riordanverse Rarepair Week @/them-awesome-rarepairs

Date: Aug 20-27, 2023 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Any rarepair, or canon pairing that's not endgame. Other Criteria: no NSFW, respect the characters canon sexualities, more details on post.

This or That @/chbnet

Date: September 2023 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Percy or Annabeth, Camp Halfblood or Camp Jupiter, Percabeth or Solangelo, Gods or Heroes, Thalia or Percy or Nico Other Criteria: No min/max word count.

Seafam Week October 1-7, 2023 @/seafamblr

Date: Oct 1-7, 2023 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Percy Jackson, Poseidon, Tyson, Amphitrite, Triton, Kymopoleia etc. Other Criteria: No min/max word count.

Drew Tanaka Week @/drewtanakaweek

Date: Oct 22-28, 2023 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Drew Tanaka/Any Other Criteria: No min/max word count.

PJO Gift Exchange 2023 @/rrverseummerbang

Date: Oct 24-Dec 30, 2023 Type: Exchange Ships/Characters: Any Other Criteria: no NSFW, min 1000 words, for art 1 finished polished piece.

Twelve Days of Nicercy Christmas @/percico-nicercy-events

Date: Dec 14-25, 2023 Type: Fest Ships/Characters: Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson Other Criteria: No min/max word count.

#pjo events #percy jackson #pjo #hoo #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #rick riordan #percy #jason grace #nico di angelo #febuwhump #big bang #challenge #hades #pjo hades #persephone #pjo persephone #rarepair #seafam #poseidon #tyson #pjo poseidon #amphitrite #pjo amphitrite #triton #pjo triton #drew tanaka #leo valdez #hoo events #toa events

[shywhumpauthor]

Masterpost

<<Please read before requesting>>

I accept requests for drabbles, snippets, prompt lists, asks regarding my series, pretty much anything—given that the topic of the request is within my comfort zone

Art sideblog: @charcoalsketches

Spam sideblog: @coal-commits-arson

(I will try to keep this updated to current)

Writing Challenges

The Merry Whump of May 2022

Summer of Whump 2022

Whumptober 2022

Whumpuary 2023

The Merry Whump of May 2023

Two Weeks of Whump 2023

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Prompts

Plushie Whump // Defiant Lab Whump // Desert Whump // Mute Whumpers~Caretakers // Shivering // Doctor Whumpers // Comfort Plushies // Healing Powers // Betrayed by Team // Humane Whumpers // Bath Time With Trauma // Short Betrayal Thing // Mean Caretaker // Lab Rat Whumpee = Lonely // Some Dialogue // Whumpers Who Get Carried Away // Rating Whump Locations // Experiment Prompt List // How Whumpee Meets Caretaker Prompt List // Mock Executions // Captured Prince Prompt List // Teammate Caretaker x Leader Whumpee // Belts as Restraints // Recovery Center List // Doghouse // Feral Whumpee Recovery // Torture Idea // Both Caretaker and Whumpee are Captives // Ribbons (Short Snippet) // Safety in Restraints // Two Beds // Caretaker is New Master // Brutal Whump Idea // Bleeding Ungrateful // Old Wounds // Tally // Injured Back // Tied to a Table // Driver // Redeemed Villain Captured With Team // Gentle Pet Whump // Ear Pains // Hero Being Manipulated Snippet // Signs of Whump // Morgue Prompt // Cold in Captivity // Sharp Teeth Supernatural Whumpee // Broken Whumpees and Regret // Possessive Whumpers // Tucked in // Auction Prep // Emergency Contact // Marbles // Familiar Whumpee and Whumper // Sunburn +Whipping // Overworked // Branded Handprints //

Other Prompts

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // 18 // 19 // 20 // 21 // 22 // 23 // 24 // 25 // 26 // 27 //

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Drabble Masterpost

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Series

The Prince of a Bloodstained Game (completed)

My first ever series, made a while ago. Royal Whumper Leonidas, spy Whumpee who was sent to kill him Harlow. My advice, just don't. Don't go there. I haven't looked back. Who knows what horrors await in my old writing

A Drop Of Honey

Probably my most consistent series tbh, ongoing for months. I only work on it when requested. Bitch Whumpee called Bee, no other characters are worthy of names. We've got Friend and Whumper, that's it

Red Stained Riches

(Whumptober 2022) Kaden shouldn't have gone to the party. Rich creepy whumper named Mathias. Ongoing.

Surveillence

Whumpuary 2022. Ignore how the first 12 parts are nameless, I’m slowly going back to fix it. Noah is a spy, and hell is he in over his head

Landline

Coriander took a turn a bit too fast during a storm, and they ended up on the wrong person’s doorstep.

To the Victor the Spoils

A choose-your-own-adventure, interactive whump series

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My Old Writing Masterlist

In my most professional opinion, just stay away.

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#this took way too long #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal’s masterlist #whump prompt #whump prompts #writing prompt #writing prompts #masterlist #whump masterlist #whump masterpost #whumpee #whumper #whump stuff #whump series #whump blog #whump ideas

[staydandy]

Sweet Home 2 (2023) - 스위트홈 시즌2 - Whump List

List by StayDandy Synopsis : The residents of Green Home Apartments, who risked their lives through bloody battles against their neighbors-turned-monsters, find themselves at a crossroads for survival. Forced to leave their base and venture out into the world, they join other survivors from all over. They are continuously threatened by the monsters outside and also by the monstrous desires of the people among them. (MDL)

Whumpees : Cha Hyun Soo played by Song Kang (center) • Pyeon Sang Wook / Jung Ui Myeong played by Lee Jin Wook (left) • Park Chan Young played by Jung Jin Young (right)

Country : 🇰🇷 South Korea Genres : Action, Horror, Sci-Fi, Supernatural

Notes : This is a Full Whump List • Adapted from a webtoon “Sweet Home” (스위트홈) by Kim Carnby (김칸비) and Hwang Young Chan (황영찬) • Season 3 is slated for release Summer 2024! • I do like the first season a little better. The time leaps in this season left some plot holes that I wish they had fixed - like Hyun Soo's powers, and what happened to him after the end of ep3?? 🫤 Felt like the show quickly shifted focus to the child. • TW : Suicidal

Related List : Sweet Home Season 1 - Full List

Episodes on List : 7 Total Episodes : 8

*Spoilers below*

01 : … continued from last ep of Season 1 ... Cha Hyun Soo captured, Pyeon Sang Wook body possessed by Jung Ui Myeong monster, [quick flashback] Sang Wook shot.. [present] Hyun Soo fights Ui Myeong inside a vehicle; Hyun Soo choked several times, head banged on the steering wheel, stabbed … chest slowly healing … Ui Myeong hallucinating, stabbing own leg, Hyun Soo & Ui Myeong in car crash.. Ui Myeong trapped in Sang Wook's broken body, dragged.. Hyun Soo shot several times, passes out

02 : Park Chan Young constricted by monster … Hyun Soo captured & caged (@ 30min - not complaining 😏, but is there really any good reason for stripping the man??) … Ui Myeong in a body bag, covered in cuts, broken bones, shot "dead" (@ 33:22 - all the ass in this ep lol) … Hyun Soo fighting a monster, beat up, neck bitten & blood drunk … Ui Myeong crawling along the floor

03 : Hyun Soo locked up, straightjacket, staggering (aerosol drug in the room?), Hyun Soo & Ui Myeong fight; Hyun Soo's arm broken, stabbed, transforms, whipped(ish), turned into a statue (??)

05 : Chan Young beat up … tw:suicidal

06 : Kicked … pushed into a pit … ankle twisted … tied up … drugged unconscious

07 : Unconscious, foam at the mouth, poisoned … nauseous, retching … Hyun Soo shot

08 : Forced to fight & kill a friend … split personality

More Whump Lists for this show: love-me-a-lotta-whump

#whump #whump list #full whump list #Asian whump #South Korea #Sweet Home 2 #Sweet Home season 2 #스위트홈 #스위트홈 시즌2 #Cha Hyun Soo #Pyeon Sang Wook #Jung Ui Myeong #Park Chan Young #Song Kang #Lee Jin Wook #Jung Jin Young