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ailendolin · 1 year

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Whump Wednesday - 55 - BBC Ghosts

Title: Weaving Baskets [AO3]

Characters: Humphrey, The Captain, Thomas, Mary and Annie

Prompt: A story about Humphrey finding out about Mary and mourning her loss. - Prompt sent in by the lovely @bitchytidalwavebouquetworld-blog

A/N: This was both incredibly difficult and cathartic to write, to be honest. I've dealt with a huge personal loss this year so writing about grief now hits a little closer to home than it would have before. Because of that, I'm not quite sure I managed to do your prompt and Humphrey justice but I hope you enjoy your fic anyway!

Prompts are open, so if you want me to write a story for you as well just send me an ask with the fandom, characters and your prompt. I’m writing for Ghosts, Yonderland, Horrible Histories and Bill at the moment.

Six Idiots Whump Wednesday / Fluff Friday masterlist is here.

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Weaving Baskets

“Humphrey. Now, I’m afraid I have some rather sad news.”

Humphrey did not know what exactly he’d expected to come after that statement – a report of his body having had yet another tryst without his knowledge, perhaps? – but it certainly hadn’t been this.

“Oh,” he said softly as the Captain’s words sank in. In his mind, he saw a light, surprised faces, a brief moment of peace – and then nothing. Nothing but grief.

It was unbelievable; unfathomable. “When – when did it happen?”

The Captain cleared his throat. “Earlier today. There was no warning. The light just appeared above her and then she was … then she was gone. Just like that.”

He bowed his head and looked away, still in shock even though he’d had a whole day to come to terms with what had happened – a whole day that Humphrey had spent outside, completely unaware that a part of his world had been missing for hours and would never return. Anger mixed with desperation, shock and grief and clawed its way up his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The Captain’s eyes flicked up to meet his. They were shining with shame and guilt when he admitted, “To be honest? It didn’t even cross my mind. I – that is, we – were so caught up in the moment, so … so lost that there was no room for anything but her.” He cleared his throat once more before he straightened his back. “I know that doesn’t make it right, and I am sorry we forgot about you, Humphrey. So very sorry. You should have been with us at the memorial.”

“Memorial?” Humphrey echoed, feeling a pit open up in his stomach – wherever it and the rest of his body were right now.

The Captain nodded tightly. “Yes, well – it was Alison’s idea, really. And Thorne – Thomas, I should say – came up with quite the lovely way of commemorating Mary, believe it or not.”

Humphrey listened in silence as the Captain told him about all the things Alison had gathered in Mary’s memory and found himself desperately wishing that he had been there, that just this once the others would have remembered to bring him along. Still, when the Captain mentioned the basket he couldn’t help the wet chuckle that escaped him.

“Five potatoes high,” they said in unison. Their eyes met. “She never said how large the potatoes had to be, did she?”

The Captain shook his head. “And we never asked.”

Humphrey sighed heavily. “No, we did not.”

There was a beat of silence before the Captain hung his head and admitted in a broken voice, “I shall miss her, Humphrey. Very much.”

Humphrey’s face softened. “I think we all will, mate.”

The Captain nodded in defeat and squeezed his eyes shut. For several long seconds, he stood perfectly still before he sucked in a shuddering, heart-breaking breath.

“Do you mind if I sat you down?” he managed to choke out, pointing at the sofa. “I … I think I need a moment alone.”

He looked so genuinely apologetic for being overwhelmed by his grief that Humphrey didn’t have the heart to tell him no even though the last thing he wanted right now was to be alone.

“Of course not. Just put me upright against the – yes, thank you.”

He watched the Captain stiffly turn around and walk out of the room, his shoulders a little more hunched and his pace a little less brisk than it usually was as if he was weighed down by his grief. Humphrey wondered if he’d look the same were his head attached to his body right now or just lost and empty. His thoughts instinctively shied away from the pain of Mary’s loss and he had to force them right into the centre of his grief just so he would feel something apart from this hollow numbness that had taken up residence inside his heart the moment the Captain had broken the news to him.

His heart.

Humphrey closed his eyes in regret.

Mary had once told him that his body, “be that bit that hath the heart.” While he’d understood what she was trying to say at the time he couldn’t say he had actually believed her words. Now he would give anything for her to have been right because it would mean he wouldn’t have to feel his heart breaking into a hundred jagged pieces right now as centuries worth of memories flashed through his mind. They reminded him of the sunlight in Mary’s eyes when she smiled, the nervousness in her hands when she fiddled with her apron and the clear sound of her voice every time she laughed and called him head bit.

Humphrey had always hated that nickname, if one could even call it that. But now? Now he desperately wished he could hear her say it one last time.

To his surprise, he felt tears well up in his eyes. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had cried. It must have been when–

Humphrey felt his throat close up.

Annie.

By some stroke of luck, he had been present when Mary came back alone from her walk that day and told the others what had happened. She’d looked at them for a long moment afterwards, her eyes sadder than Humphrey had ever seen them, before she’d given a little shrug and turned away as if it didn’t matter, as if she hadn’t just lost the best friend she ever had. Humphrey had grieved more for her loss that day than his own, and it was perhaps for that reason that losing Mary hit him so much harder now: because this time, he was grieving his for himself.

He didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

Feeling a sob claw its way up his throat, Humphrey pressed his lips as tightly together as he could. The room suddenly felt too large, too empty. Would anyone even notice if the light took him now? Would they miss him? Would they mourn him?

He sucked in a trembling breath. Where was his body when he needed it? He couldn’t stay here, on his own. Not now, not when–

“Humphrey,” he heard a soft voice say in surprise. Humphrey opened his eyes to see Thomas standing over him, his face unusually sombre. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with the Captain.”

He looked around the room with a frown. Humphrey couldn’t tell if he was angry or worried. A bit of both, perhaps.

“He needed a moment,” he said at last.

“I see,” Thomas said with a sigh. He briefly glanced at the door the Captain had left through before his eyes met Humphrey’s again. “Would you like me to take you with me or would you prefer to be alone?”

No, Humphrey thought desperately. Anything but that.

“I’d like some company if you don’t mind,” he said softly.

With a small smile and a nod, Thomas picked him up. His hands were gentle upon Humphrey’s face, careful in a way they’d never been before, and it was that gentleness that proved to be too much.

“Oh Humphrey,” Thomas whispered as the tears Humphrey had managed to kept at bay so far finally welled over. Humphrey sniffed but didn’t try to stop them. What good would it do anyway? Thomas knew exactly how he felt and would not mock him for grieving – of that, if little else, Humphrey was sure in that moment. So he let his tears fall, let Thomas brush them away with his thumb and dab them dry with his sleeve until no more would come and the storm inside him became a distant rumbling.

“Feel better?” Thomas asked, keeping his voice just as gentle as his touches.

Humphrey looked up at him. “Not really. Just tired.”

“Maybe this will help,” Thomas said. Instead of explaining, he wordlessly ascended the stairs and went to his sighing place where he curled up by the window and angled Humphrey’s head so he could look up at the sky.

“We picked a star for her,” Thomas said quietly, his voice hushed and almost reverent. He pointed at the stars. “See that one? The one that twinkles? That’s Mary.”

Blinking against a fresh wave of tears, Humphrey gazed up at the sky. It was breathtakingly clear, and just like Thomas had said there was one star that seemed to twinkle a little more brightly and merrier than the others.

“Annie is right beside her,” Thomas added softly.

The grief that had seemed so unbearable only a moment ago suddenly mellowed into something softer and gentler as Humphrey looked up at the two stars that twinkled side by side in the sky just like they had as ghosts. For the first time since the Captain had picked him up earlier, he found it easy to breathe.

“Mary would like that.”

Thomas nodded, still looking at the sky. “Yes, I think she would. I hope they’re happy wherever they are.”

They fell silent as they continued gazing at the stars. Neither of them said anything when the Captain joined them by the window, nor when the others, Humphrey’s body included, found their way to it as well. Thomas simply shifted a little to make room for them before he returned his gaze to the heavens again, to Mary and Annie and all the other bright souls that made up the universe above them.

It was only when the sun began to tint the horizon in beautiful yellows and oranges that he broke the silence. “A new day dawns.”

The Captain softly cleared his throat before he mimicked holding a glass. “To Mary.”

“To Mary,” they echoed.

Humphrey expected everyone to leave and shuffle off to bed then but to his surprise no one moved. They fell asleep right where they were, leaning on each other in more ways than one, and Humphrey’s heart, beating just somewhere to his left, felt full despite missing the part that Mary had taken up to the stars with her.

His eyes met Thomas’s in the gentle morning light and something soft and silent passed between them. One of Thomas’s hands settled on Humphrey’s head, gently resting there, and Humphrey allowed his tired eyes to fall close.

Cradled in the midst of his family, he fell asleep and dreamed of blues and yellows and weaving baskets five potatoes high.

#humphrey bone #the captain #thomas thorne #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfic #bbc ghosts spoilers #mary #annie #my fic #whump wednesday #wwff challenge

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sunwarmed-ash · 1 year

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Whump Wednesday

Whump: A genre of fan fiction in which a character endures injury, torture, or other forms of physical and mental suffering.

I know you sick fucks like to suffer like me so I made this masterlist of my fics for you, MAKE SURE YOU READ THE WARNINGS

🧿Strangers Things🛸

I think I need help: (Harringrove)

Death Changes Everything: (Mungrove)

Jawbreaker: (Harringrove)

🕸Spiderverse🕸

Deja Vu: (Parksborn)

The New Kid: (Parksborn)

Separation Anxiety: (Peter/Eddie/Venom)

🪄Harry Potter🪄

Silence isn't golden: (Drarry)

🔍Sherlock🔎

Time of dying: (Johnlock)

📚The Breakfast Club📚

Supernatural Activity at Shermer High: (Bender/Sam/Dean)

🦸🏼‍♂Marvel🦸🏼‍♂

Love born of temperature and trust: GammaFrost (Loki/Bruce)

Help Me (Steve/Tony)

The heat of the moment (Bruce/Tony)

The breaking of Bruce Banner (Bruce/Steve)

🥧Supernatural🍔

What's going to be left of the world of you're not in it? (Sam/Dean)

Rockabye baby (Sam/Dean)

Folsom Bottom Blues (Sam/Dean)

Truck stop off I-25 (Sam/Dean)

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whumpshots · 1 year

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Whumpshot Wednesday

Inspired by this post by @whumpster-dumpster

"I can't send them to do this. This ... this is not right. They're just a kid," team leader says, while walking up and down the room. Caretaker's eyes just follow them, but they don't say much.

"I mean ... how can they possibly want me to make this decision? Whumpee's been ... they-"

"Have been through worse," caretaker interrupts and looks into the other's eyes. "I hate to break it to you, team leader, but no matter what you want to do right now ... it won't be any good. Whumpee's already been through shit like this."

The scars ... the nightmares. Caretaker knows all about them. Knows how much whumpee suffered in the past how they just don't care anymore. So young and already so tired of life.

"What are you talking about ...?"

"If you knew anything about whumpee, you knew that they just aren't a kid. Never had the chance to. And you won't be able to stop them from doing what they think they have to do. Because you never did so before."

Team leader stops in their tracks and looks caretaker up and down. "How ... how do you know?"

"Because they told me after I patched them up over and over again."

#whump #whump writing #whump prompt #young whumpee #team whump #kinda #mentioned scars #mentioned trauma #implied trauma #whump wednesday #whumpster-dumpster #whumpshots #another post i had in my drafts for what feels like eternity #happy whumping everybody #lol #i just saw it's Tuesday #whumpshot wednesday on a tuesday then

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bottomhaztoplou · 1 year

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Tabby's Writing Game: Day 10

Whump Wednesday!!

So, this is all I have for this work, called tinyism, right now, but I definitely would like to continue it in the future if I ever have more thoughts for it.

Harry remembers when his now-husband, then-mutual crush was about two inches taller than him and a wee bit broader, big enough to encompass him in these wonderful hugs that made him feel warm and loved and safe. Now, though, Harry is the one who's upwards of three inches taller and far broader than Louis, unable to get those same hugs from when they were young. Don't get him wrong, he still loves his husband's hugs and they comfort him like nothing else, but it's not the same. ~~~ It starts with Harry lifting Louis up onto the kitchen bench and bathroom counter more often, despite how much he hated when Louis did it before. He'd tuck his head under Louis' chin for a few seconds under the illusion of kissing his neck before resuming the task of making breakfast or brushing his teeth. Louis only notices, though, when Harry starts to linger for more than just a few seconds, instead hiding his face in Louis' neck and enjoying the lingering scent of his cologne from the night before while he got his fix of feeling small. One evening, while watching a film together, Harry instinctively tries to curl up in Louis' lap, only for his husband to groan and push him off. "Harry, you big oaf, get off'a me." Harry, suitably chastened, slips off of Louis' lap and to the cushioning of the sofa below them, staying as close as possible without actually touching Louis. He stares at the telly screen, trying and failing to hold back tears. Thankfully, the only one that falls slips down the cheek that Louis can't see. Louis is wholly engaged in the film, too engaged to notice Harry's upset demeanour. It's only when he realises that Harry hasn't touched him since the film started that he notices that Harry is looking at the floor rather than the telly and there are tears building up against his lower lashes. "Haz, babe, what's wrong?" Louis asks quietly. Harry flinches at the sound of his voice. Louis frowns. "'s nothing," Harry murmurs a moment later. "Gotta go to the loo, go ahead and keep watching," he follows. He gets up and leaves the room, Louis left to stare after him. As soon as he shuts the bathroom door and hears the film resume, Harry covers his mouth and lets out a broken sob behind his palm. He slides down the wall until his bum hits the tile and covers his face with both hands. He bites his lip to muffle the loudest of his sobbing and wipes roughly at his face with the sleeves of his shirt. He lets himself have five minutes to cry it out, then he gets up again and washes his face of the tears with frigid water to numb his burning eyes and ease the redness. Without looking at himself in the mirror, he took a few deep breaths. He then went back to the sofa where his husband was still watching the film. It seemed to be wrapping up, but Harry sat down beside Louis again anyway, making sure to stay close but not touch him with his big, oafish body. When the film ends, Harry heads silently to their bedroom. He quickly undresses down to his pants and then pulls out one of Louis’ oversized hoodies and a pair of his own loose joggers to sleep in. He didn’t often wear clothes to bed, but he didn’t want to see himself right now. He slides under the covers just as Louis steps into the room. He’s glad that he sleeps facing the wall most nights. He closes his eyes with his face halfway under the covers and waits for Louis to get in bed with him. When Louis does, he slides over until he’s spooned right up against Harry and wraps both arms around his middle. Harry is never more grateful that he doesn’t say anything. ~~~ He doesn’t lift Louis up onto the counters anymore.

#tabby's writing game #whump wednesday #my writing #writing tag #writing game #snippet game #larry fanfiction #larry angst #hurt no comfort #tinyism

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creativepromptsforwriting · 1 year

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What is... Whump?

Whump is a genre in fanfiction that involves placing your character into a traumatic, physically or psychologically tormenting scenario.

It is a darker form of hurt/comfort that focuses heavily on the hurt and puts the character in jeopardy, tortures the character and tries to break them. Sometimes even without any comfort at the end.

The characters in these stories can be called:

whumpee - the character being hurt

whumper - the character causing the harm

caretaker - the character comforting

#what is wednesday #what is whump #whump #whumpee #whumper #writing #writeblr #writing advice #writers of tumblr #writing community #fanfic #creative writing

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creative-caramel-coffee · 7 months

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hi can you please do something where reader gets in trouble so has to go to weems office for a meeting but she wakes up with the cold/flu and still drags herself there, shes barely paying attention to the lecture shes getting on behaviour but weems is so annoyed she doesnt notice until her sneezes/sniffles give her away despite reader being adamant shes fine? leading to some soft taking care of by weems?

Sickness and Spiders

Pairings: Weems x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.3K

Summary: You get in trouble for something you didn’t fully understand, the whole time your feeling sick as and Weems is yet too notice.

TW: vomiting, flu symptoms, spiders (mentioned), fainting (mentioned), lectures, fever

A/n loved this request, hope you do too :)

I mean was it really your fault, had you known Wednesday was going to use the spiders to torment Bianca you would have never given them to her. You should have known better, yes. But the classes you had all afternoon, had seemed to numb your already aching mind. Yoko had been sick a few days ago and was starting to get over it, her vampire immune system reducing the flu to a simple cold. However, being around her in close quarters for days on end as the two of you shared a dorm meant you had gotten her “cold.”

After Wednesday had accidentally outted your (unknowing and unwilling) involvement in her plot, you had spent the afternoon in detention. Which you had spent staring at the wall with a blank look as your head seemed to have invisible hands stuff your sinuses and skull with cotton and sand. You had barely even registered being let out before you stumbled down the hall to your dorm which luckily wasn’t too far. You had to see the principal tomorrow morning as she had spent the afternoon dealing with Wednesday and her punishment. Maybe you could plead your case and …. That would never work.

You stumbled over to your bed curling up on-top of the sheets deciding to forgo dinner as your stomach churned at the room seemed to be freezing. You fell asleep at five in the afternoon still in your uniform and hair done up.

It had barely felt like five minutes before you felt hands shaking your shoulder. Blearily you looked up at the attacker through have lidded eyes. Your head was pounding, and your stomach churned. You couldn’t breathe through your nose at all and somehow at the same time it was running down your top lip. Your lips were chapped, and your eyes glazed with the haze of fever.

Darting your tongue out to try and rehydrate your lips you blinked up as you realised Yoko was standing over you.

“Dude. Jeez you look like hell. Are you ok?” She asked and you wiped your nose on your sleeve which made her wince and let out a deep and throaty yes, your voice surprising you at how congested you sounded.

“If you say so. Weems wanted you in her office ten minutes ago. But you should probably-“ you launched off the bed and stumbled righting yourself against the wall and took off down the hall still in yesterdays crumpled uniform.

“-stay here.” Yoko finished looking at your empty bed with a frown.

You did your best to stand upright as you knocked on the door, swaying slightly. Suddenly the door flew open with an angry looking Weems saying there. At the sudden movement your head swam, and you took a step back. Weems took this as an escape attempt and grabbed your arm pulling you inside. You stumbled and weems thrust you into the chair in-front of her desk.

She barely looked at you as she began to lecture.

“I expect this kind of thing from Wednesday, you however Y/n… have been one of my most promising students. I worry what would happen if you chose to follow a path like Ms Addams. I should suspend you; those spiders scared half the first years to death. One actually fainted. She would be concussed if Ms Thornhill hadn’t caught her…” Weems continued to rant as you tried and failed to listen. You had zoned out looking at the stuffed crow on her bookshelf. Eyes still glassy. Your stomach was churning something awful, and you lifted you sleeve, sniffling and wiping your nose on your already wet sleeve. You grimaced at the texture and brought a hand to rest over your stomach. It hurt a lot as it did flips and gurgled angrily.

Weems was pacing now, still not looking at you as she went on and on about how disappointed she was with you. But it sounded like she was underwater. Noise was distorted as your fever raged, messing with your senses and perception of reality. You swayed where you sat using one hand to grip the edge of the desk to stop yourself falling out of the chair. You stifled a sneeze in your elbow grimiaing as it made your head pound with newfound force. It felt like your heart had been moved to between your ears as it was all you could hear.

You sat trying to stabilise your breathing as saliva began to gather in your mouth. You were feeling worse and worse.

Weems froze her back to you, her lecture stopping as she heard you gag. Unfreezing she spun on her heels just in time to watch you throw up in your own lap. For the first time that day she looked at you. You had deep bags under your eyes. Forehead covering a sheen of sweat. Eye glassy. Nose and cheeks pink and skin pale. Drooping eyelids and now dressed in a sicked-on uniform.

Her anger melted in an instant and she crossed the office in a few strides. Perks of being tall. She knelt next to you and looked into your eyes which moved sluggishly to meet hers.

“Oh darling.” She said turning and grabbing some tissues off her desk to wipe your chin clean. You let out a heartbreaking whimper and buried your face in your hands.

“Sh shhh. None of that now sweetheart.” She said and pried your hands off. She felt your face for a fever frowning as she felt a very present and very hot one raging under your pale and flushed skin.

“Sit tight for me darling.” She said and you gave a weak nod. She quickly left and returned with a towel, a plastic bag and a change of what looked like her old clothes. She peeled your uniform off you carefully throwing it in the bag. She wrapped you in the towel still in your underwear as she wiped you clean with a wet rag. Once you felt slightly better, she tapped your arm.

“Arms up sweetie.” She said and you complied slowly. She wrestled the short onto you and you let her. After a minute she pressed a thermometer to your lips which you accepted. Finding your fever too high for her liking weems gathered some more supplies and fed you some medicine. Figuring you had to the flu and most likely threw up from the fever and nausea.

Gently she guided you to the couch and laid a towel down for you to sleep in case you didn’t make it to the bathroom again if you felt sick again later. She placed a bucket next to the couch and wiped the sweaty hair from your eyes. With a hand she cupped your cheek as you began to fall asleep.

“Im sorry darling. I should have known something was wrong when your name came up.” She said softly. “I know you would never do that in your right mind.” She rubber her thumb over your cheek bone and you nuzzled into her hand.

“‘M s’rry. I di’nt know she’s gonna throw them at the fi’st yea’s” you slurred tired and weems chuckled softly.

“Im sure you didn’t darling. Now rest.” She said and patted your cheek before removing her hand and going to stand up.

“Stay.” You said weakly grabbing her hand.

“Of course, darling. Let me just grab my laptop.” She said going over to her desk before returning and sitting opposite you.

“Close your eyes my darling, you need sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“G’night mama.” You said confused from the fever. Weems froze before softening.

“Goodnight sweetheart.” She said fighting tears that you saw her as a mother.

MASTERLIST

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where-is-my-whump · 3 months

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We love to see our favorite character in pain, worried, fighting for their life. But what a lot of you like is our whumpee getting kidnapped. Tell me in your words what you find so fascinating about it. What gets you the whumperflies in your stomach. The scenes which you could play back the whole day. I'm curious.

Full gifsets 1 2 3 4 5

#kidnapping #getting kidnapped #whump #whump community #got a question for you #tell me in your tags reblogs etc #i'm curious #the last of us #ellie the last of us #walker #jared padalecki #mission impossible #tom cruise #jenna ortega #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #bella ramsey

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aceofwhump · 7 months

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Day 12: Red

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

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whumpshaped · 3 months

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remember its always ok to douse your whumpee with gasoline and then make a show of lighting a match. its always morally correct

#do it for me..#whump #whump prompt #douse ur whumpee w gasoline wednesday

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peachy-panic · 2 months

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WHUMP WEDNESDAY: Week 15

WE’RE BACK! After literal months of me and @hold-him-down either being sick or out of town or otherwise busy as hell, we finally got to sit down for a new Whump Wednesday. And what a welcome back it was.

We did a repeat recipe of one of our faves: shepherd’s pie, which we killed once again.

And for the movie, 186 Dollars To Freedom had some extremely gif-able scenes that I’m gonna need someone (aka holdy) to make and upload pls and thank you.

#whump wednesday

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ailendolin · 1 year

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Whump Wednesday - 52 - BBC Ghosts

Title: Quiet [AO3]

Characters: Thomas, Humphrey & Alison

Prompt: Alison is crying after Lucy's betrayal when she's sure Mike won't hear her and get worried. She's being found by one or two of the ghosts and comforted by them. - Prompt sent in by the lovely @magicaltear

A/N: Thank you again for this wonderful prompt, dear! As always, it took on a life of its own but I hope you enjoy your fic! 💙

Six Idiots Whump Wednesday / Fluff Friday masterlist is here.

————

Quiet

“Do you hear that?”

Thomas stopped and cocked his head to the side, listening. His eyes widened when he heard the sound Humphrey must refer to. “That sounds like fair Alison!”

Humphrey raised one very unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“She’s crying,” he said pointedly.

Biting his lip, Thomas lowered his eyes, feeling chastised even though Humphrey hadn’t actually called him out on anything. “Sorry.”

“Never mind,” Humphrey sighed and did the eye roll equivalent of waving Thomas’s apology away. “We should probably go and see if she’s all right.”

Thomas lifted Humphrey’s head a little higher so he could look him in the eyes. “Humphrey, if she’s crying then I’m sure she’s not all right by any definition. And no wonder after what she’s been through! To be so ruthlessly deceived by someone she welcomed into her home and held so very dear …”

He trailed off, willing his thoughts not to stray towards a letter, a tree and a broken promise.

“I suppose we know a thing or two about being deceived by loved ones, don’t we?” Humphrey mused quietly. Nodding, Thomas bit his lip. “Maybe we can help.”

“Do you really think so?” Thomas asked, unsure. “I – I wouldn’t want to make it worse.”

A barely suppressed sob filtered through the wall beside them. They looked at each other.

“I’m pretty sure we couldn’t make it worse even if we tried, mate,” Humphrey said sadly.

Thomas sighed softly, knowing Humphrey had a point. He knew what it felt like to lock himself away in a dark corner of the house, hoping no one would find him but also wishing someone would just so he wouldn’t have to carry the weight of his feelings alone anymore. No one ever came looking for him, though, and if someone accidentally stumbled upon him by chance they always had an excuse ready as to why they couldn’t stay which hurt. Thomas couldn’t be sure that Alison would welcome their company in the same way he would if their places were reversed, of course, or if she would welcome it at all, but he would gladly risk her anger if there was even the smallest chance that she needed a willing ear to listen right now.

Having made up his mind, he readjusted his hold on Humphrey, cleared his throat and stuck both their heads through the wall of the en suite bathroom.

“Alison?” he asked softly.

Alison jumped.

“Oh for god’s sake, Thomas, not now!” she choked out, her voice thick with tears, and turned her back on him in an attempt to hide her face. She was sitting fully clothed in the bathtub, hugging her legs close to her chest, and her obvious grief over the loss of a sister that had never been hers to lose in the first place made Thomas’s chest tighten in sympathy.

He glanced down at Humphrey, silently begging him to take the lead and say something.

“We don’t mean to bother you, Alison,” Humphrey said. “It’s just – we heard you crying and wanted to ask if there was anything we could do to help.”

Very slowly, Alison lifted her head to look at them. Her eyes were red from crying and darkened with more sorrow than a single person should have to bear on their shoulders. “I was trying to be quiet.”

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut. Of all the things she could have said in that moment. He was bitterly familiar with the pain of trying to be quiet so no one would have to bear witness to his emotions. His earliest memories as a child were of being shushed. He had been too young to be able to talk and hadn’t understood why his crying upset everyone so much that they sometimes locked him in his room. The nanny always took pity on him once he’d cried himself hoarse; on very rare occasions, it was his mother. It wasn’t until years later that he’d learned about the headaches his mother had been suffering from for most of her life, and it took even longer for him to understand what that actually meant: namely, merciless pain inside his head that turned even the most beautiful golden sunlight into agonising fire and the softest and gentlest if sounds into a cacophony of agony that made his stomach churn until he wanted nothing more than to be left alone in a dark and quiet room until the horrible affliction passed.

None of that had lessened the hurt he’d felt as a child, though, or undone the damage his parents’ abandonment had caused. He wondered if Alison had experienced something similar in her own childhood and was hiding from Mike right now because she simply didn’t know any better. He might not think much of her husband on the best of days but Thomas would have to be blind not to see the way Mike’s eyes had been resting on Alison all evening in concern. He had no doubt that Mike would be here in a heartbeat as soon as he knew she was upset and holding and comforting her. And yet Alison chose to hide herself and her grief away in the bathroom – just like Thomas would.

It broke his heart.

Shifting Humphrey’s head under his arm, he gestured to the bathroom with his hand and asked quietly, “May we?”

Alison sniffed and then, very hesitantly, nodded. Thomas faded through the wall and, careful to avoid her feet, sat down on the floor next to the bathtub. He chose to face the wall instead of her, hoping that this would make it easier for Alison to talk about what grieved her so deeply since it would for him. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he balanced Humphrey’s head on top of them as best as he could. And then he waited.

For the longest time, Alison remained silent, her breath hitching every now and then in-between soft sniffles, until–

“I just feel so stupid,” she choked out and hid her face against her knees. “The whole thing was completely crazy – like, movie crazy – and I still fell for it! I mean, how naïve do you have to be to get conned like that? God, I’m such an idiot.”

Thomas lowered his eyes. The letter inside his waistcoat with Isabelle’s misspelled name felt even heavier than it usually did.

“You’re not an idiot, Alison,” Humphrey said softly. “Or any of those other things you said. You just trusted the wrong person.”

“I trusted a stranger,” Alison spat out in self-loathing. “One of the first things parents teach their kids is never to trust–“

“Everyone can be a stranger,” Thomas interrupted her, his voice barely above a whisper. His wound throbbed dully in his side – a painful reminder of how true those words were. “Even those closest to us. Perhaps those most of all.”

The room blurred around him for a moment as he remembered a young boy, more lost than any child should ever be, looking up to his cousin and feeling so, so grateful that he was allowed to tag along on his adventures. That feeling had never changed, not even when Thomas had grown up. He had always trusted Francis with his whole heart and words could not describe the hurt that welled up inside him every time he thought of his cousin’s betrayal. Francis had not just taken his future away from him, he’d also ruined most of the happy memories Thomas had of his childhood with his actions on that fateful October day. Every kind smile they had shared over the years was now tainted with doubt and all those encouraging words Francis had so generously bestowed upon him in their conversations now left a bitter aftertaste.

“Thomas is right,” Humphrey said, gently bringing the bathroom back into focus around Thomas. “You can know a person for decades and still wake up one day and realise that you never knew them at all.”

Alison sucked in a sharp breath and looked down at her lap. “Does it ever get better?”

No, Thomas thought.

“It gets easier,” Humphrey said. “Things like that take time but eventually, you’ll learn to forgive yourself and to trust again.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust anyone after this,” Alison said with a shake of her head, roughly wiping the heel of her hand over one cheek.

Humphrey’s face softened. “You would lead a very lonely life if that were true.”

His eyes met Thomas’s, gentle and kind and so understanding that Thomas couldn’t help but feel seen. He didn’t know how but Humphrey must have noticed that he tended to keep some things desperately close to his heart and drawn the right conclusions. Not sure how to feel about that, Thomas dropped his eyes.

“You would not live,” he whispered, staring at his knees. “Your heart would be safe but you would wither away. Even the most resilient flower cannot bloom without the sun.”

“Well said,” Humphrey agreed softly.

The corners of Thomas’s lips twitched into a sad semblance of a smile. He supposed Humphrey knew as much about existing without living as he did, possibly even more given that his isolation was rarely by choice. Thomas certainly wasn’t the only one guilty of forgetting about him and leaving his head lying around in all sorts of places but he was guilty of it, and he suddenly found himself regretting all those times he had groaned and rolled his eyes when Humphrey asked him to pick him up.

Biting his lip, he forced himself to meet Humphrey’s eyes and say what he couldn’t with words: that he was sorry, and that he would try to do better in the future. Humphrey’s face softened and to Thomas’s surprise there was no blame in his eyes when he nodded, only quiet understanding. It made Thomas want to weep.

“Well.” Alison cleared her throat before she slowly uncurled from her no-doubt uncomfortable position in the bathtub She stretched out her legs in front of her. “For what it’s worth, I definitely won’t let any so-called long-lost relatives into my house again anytime soon.”

Thomas glanced over at her. “That would probably be wise.”

Alison smiled at that, a little wryly, perhaps, but she sounded genuinely grateful when she said, “Thanks, guys. I – I think I needed this.”

“Any time,” Humphrey said easily, as if they all hadn’t just bared their souls a little in front of each other right now. “Do you want us to leave you alone for a bit or–?”

“Actually, I think I’ll go find Mike,” Alison said and pushed herself to her feet. Her eyes were still red from crying and her cheeks still flushed but she seemed – not exactly at peace but one step closer to accepting what had happened and being able to let go of the self-blame that was tormenting her.

Thomas remained silent when she stepped over him on her way to the sink to splash some water in her face, and he didn’t move when she smiled at them once more before she left the bathroom. Her steps had faded down the stairs by the time Humphrey asked him quietly, “Are you all right?”

An hour ago Thomas would have nodded, forced a smile onto his face and changed the subject. Now he shook his head. “No.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Humphrey said. “Brought up a lot of memories, didn’t it?”

And guilt, Thomas thought. He looked at Humphrey, took in those kind blue eyes that were way too often ignored and left staring at nothing, and found himself saying, “Perhaps we could … talk about it? If you’d like? I don’t think I’ve ever heard about what happened with your wife – at least not directly from you.”

It was a clumsy attempt to make amends – Thomas realised that – but it was an attempt nonetheless and judging by the small smile pulling at Humphrey’s lips, he recognised that too.

“I would like that,” Humphrey said. “Mind putting me on the bathtub? Then you won’t have to hold me the whole time. Just don’t leave me there,” he added with an edge to his tone. “Please don’t leave me there. The bathroom is really not the place to get stuck in if you know what I mean.”

His eyes flicked over to the toilet and despite everything that had happened that day, Thomas found a laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep within him.

“I won’t,” he promised and sat Humphrey down with more care than he probably would have before.

“Thank you,” Humphrey said, clearly relieved. “Now, about Sophie. Where to start…?”

Thomas shifted a little to get comfortable, and as he listened to Humphrey’s story, he felt closer to him than he had to anyone in a very long time. Perhaps, he mused, they could help each other learn how to live again.

It was about time.

#thomas thorne #humphrey bone #alison cooper #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfic #my fic #whump wednesday #wwff challenge

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nisbanisba · 24 days

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I never write and am not likely to ever complete this but have some Nancy & TK texts while Carlos is sick

———————-

Tk: hey rain check on tonight? My husband didn’t tell me he got sent home with the flu and he’s kinda scaring the shit out of me (photo: thermometer reading 102.7F)

Nancy: oh nooooooo poor Carlos!! Is he ok, do you need me to come over

TK: thanks nance. I gave him ibuprofen and Tylenol and I’m making him drink Gatorade and he’s doing a little better

TK: he says he’s dying but he’s also offered to make me some dinner if I didn’t eat yet

TK: he cannot sit up without assistance but sure babe could you make me a lasagna

Nancy: I mean if anyone could do it it’d be Carlos

Pt. 2 here https://www.tumblr.com/nisbanisba/748608526613659648/i-wrote-a-little-follow-up-snippet-to-my-previous

#wip wednesday #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #sickfic #fever whump #nancy gillian #Tk strand & Nancy Gillian

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ablatheringblatherskite · 12 days

Text

Some whump fanfics that have low-key (or high-key) traumatized me forever

(aka some of my fave whump fics I've read so far)

(will reblog with more fics the more I read!!)

You Monster

fandom: Wednesday

whumpee: Tyler Galpin

You have had nightmares for weeks, waking up covered in sweat. Tonight feels no different; but it is. There is something calling to you, deep within the woods.

By @ArchivedTrash! A second person body horror fic all about Tyler transforming into the Hyde. It's. It's just so good. Literally the first second person AND body horror fic I'd ever read and still one of my faves forever.

Who Deserves This?

fandom: The Phantom of the Opera

whumpee: the whole trio tbh, but mainly Raoul

Erik runs out of patience and lets his temper get the best of him, costing him the boy's life and Christine's pity.

By my lovely mutual @rumpletrumple. This fic messed me up good :)))

She loves a pretty face

fandom: The Phantom of the Opera

whumpee: Raoul de Chagny

Erik scars Raoul. Raoul tries to move past it, but Christine won't talk to him, and Erik won't leave him alone.

By @convenientalias! This is one of my fav POTO fics, ngl. This was just. UGH. It was so good oh my GOSH. I love me some good Raoul whump AND THIS WAS SOME GOOD RAOUL WHUMP RIGHT HERE. AUGH. Scarring, threats, manipulation, tying to a chair, sacrificial love, oh my!!

Obedience

fandom: Batfam

whumpee: Tim Drake

Something is seriously wrong with Tim—Jason just knows it. Ever since the Mad Hatter incident, Tim has been acting completely different, and the worst part is that no one believes Jason when he tells them so. But when the truth is eventually revealed, the whole family comes to realize that the situation is far worse than anyone could have ever predicted.

By @sohotthateveryonedied! This left me disturbed and with low-key an existential crisis???? With one of my fave kinds of whump, forced obedience. This fic also gave me a newfound appreciation for "Perfection whump" (whump centered around being forced to be perfect). It's just so good and whumpy AND angsty and I'm. OUGH. *CHEF'S KISS*

all the king's horses

fandom: Voltron

whumpee: Keith

It wasn’t the blade sinking into the flesh of his palm, nor the smell of wood smoke and incense permeating the air that woke Keith. Nor was it the weight of iron-wrought shackles hanging heavy from his wrists and ankles. No, it was the sinister giggle in his ear and frigid fingers carding through his head that roused Keith from a dead slumber. He didn’t remember going to sleep at all—in fact, he wasn’t so sure he’d been asleep so much as knocked out. His head ached with a throbbing pulse and he couldn’t quite bring the world into focus. The room was dark, shadows dancing along the dingy wall certainly not helping things. A groan escaped him despite himself. "Don't worry, it'll only hurt for a bit."

By @glitteringconstellations! This fic actually. was the most traumatizing thing I'd ever read HAHAHAHA. Like, not even kidding, I still haven't recovered from it. It's. Like I highly recommend it but it's VERY much horror and VERY creepy and disturbing. AND I MEAN DISTURBING. It's SO GOOD but I was definitely traumatized and not okay after :))

#whump writing #whumpblr #fic recs #asterrisks #whump #the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera #wednesday #batfam #batman #dc #voltron legendary defender #voltron #tyler galpin #raoul de chagny #tim drake #red robin #keith voltron

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