I like to write sometimes and hopefully some of you might like to read it! I’ve mostly been interested in writing whump lately so for now that’s most of what you’ll find!
Other Accounts!
Here is a link to my Ao3 account!
Current Projects!
Now in the planning stages for Whumptober 2025!
Past projects!
Augusnippets Masterlist Here
Collapse (Nightwing whump oneshot) Here
About me!
Primarily Batfam and MHA fan, but I do and will write and reblog things other than those!
This is a writing blog, so most of what I focus on here will be with that in mind.
I always lose motivation as soon as I start a project, so I have so few things posted, but someone did just leave a comment on a fic I posted on ao3 like a year ago so I’m going to be riding that high for about a month.
Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!
Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.
This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.
This year's playlist can be found here.
And the Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt post can be found here.
We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!
Best of luck and happy whumping,
Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro
(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)
Whumptober 2024 Prompt List
No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK
Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)
No. 2: TRUST ISSUES
Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)
No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE
Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."
No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS
Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)
No. 5: SUNBURN
Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)
No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED
Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."
No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES
Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."
No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION
Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)
No. 9: OBSESSION
Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)
No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD
Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."
No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE
Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)
No. 12: STARVATION
Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."
No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY
Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)
No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD
Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)
No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA
Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"
No. 16: NECROSIS
Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."
No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO
Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."
No. 18: REVENGE
Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)
No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL
Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)
No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST
Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."
No. 21: BODY HORROR
Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)
No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES
Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."
No. 23: FORCED CHOICE
Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."
No. 24: RADIATION POISONING
Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)
No. 25: SURGERY
Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."
No. 26: NIGHTMARES
Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)
No. 27: VOICELESS
Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”
No. 28: DENIAL
CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."
No. 29: FATIGUE
Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"
No. 30: RECOVERY
Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"
No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP
Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)
Alternatives List:
Body Swap
Communication Barrier
Finding Old Messages
Forgotten
Friendly Fire
Motion Sickness
No-Holds-Barred Beatdown
Regret
Secrets Revealed
Shivering
Survivor's Guilt
Time Loop
Used As Bait
Venom
Vermin
Event Info & Rules
WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!
In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.
Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.
When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:
#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)
#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)
#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)
#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)
#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)
#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)
#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)
#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)
#your own tags go here
PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]
Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.
Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.
Frequently Asked Questions
Please read this before you send an ask!
TIMELINE
July: Trope voting form released.
Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!)
September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you.
October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional).
November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame.
Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.
PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION
Q: What counts as participation?
Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts.
Q: What counts as completion?
Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts.
Q: Do I need to create 31 works?
No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts.
Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant?
No.
Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge?
We’ll take your word for it!
Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist?
No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist.
Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed?
Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.
Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works?
No.
Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art?
No.
Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist?
No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work.
Q: Is this challenge just for fics?
No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged.
Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?
Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.
PROMPTS
Q: How do the prompts work?
There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead.
Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts?
As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme.
Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?
No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.
WORKS
Q: What’s whump?
Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts.
Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough?
If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you.
Q: What kind of characters can I create for?
Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits.
Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom?
No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want.
Q: Can I create AI-created works?
We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created.
Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write?
As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.
Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content?
You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.
POSTING
Q: Where can I post my work?
Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event.
Q: Can I start posting early?
You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.
Q: Can I post late?
Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago.
Q: Do I have to use your tags?
Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive.
Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive?
Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day.
Q: Can we @ you?
For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask.
Q: Can I cross post on other blogs?
Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes.
Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?
Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).
Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!
Unfortunately August absolutely kicked my ass, so I couldn’t finish Augusnippets, but it was so much fun to plan them out and get as far as I did. Here’s a quick and easy navigation for the four days that I did complete, and thank you so much @augusnippets for organizing the event overall! I’m excited to hopefully participate more next year!
TW: This story contains potentially triggering content including degloving, blood loss, abuse of power, implied burning, and lasting physical disfigurement/trauma.
This story centers around an original character, Amy, and mentions her younger brother, John. Written for @augusnippets whump writing challenge.
The old woman sitting across from Amy stared her down in the dim indigo light with a face-splitting grin. On the table in between them were four items that may not have normally made Amy uncomfortable, but in the present circumstances, she felt nothing short of chilling horror at the sight of them. Square with the edge of the table was a yellow-stained parchment with all of the flourishes and intricacies of a contract… like this. To the left of the paper was a curved dagger forged from black steel set with a black wooden handle. And to the write was a bleach-white cloth and a black wooden dowel.
The contract in question was a daunting one. Just earlier that day, Amy’s younger brother, John, had been caught stealing jewelry from a storage box in a dress shop. As far as she was told, it took the authorities less than half an hour to catch him. The penalty for theft is a forced amputation of both hands, and that wasn’t something that Amy could allow. John worked in their father’s carpentry shop, he needed his hands. So, just under an hour ago, Amy had arrived at the jail to plead for mercy on her brother. And now she was staring at the alternative.
A contract for Amy to consent to taking on John’s punishment for him.
“Well, Dearie? What do you say?” the terrifying woman across from her prompted. Amy hadn’t bothered to remember her name if she’d learned it in the first place.
“I… um, yes. I agree.” Amy replied in the meekest of voices.
An ache tugged from the tips of her ring and pinkie finger through the right side of her right wrist from how intensely her hand was trembling. The old woman audibly snickered at the shaking as Amy took hold of the pen and prepared to sign the contract. She hadn’t felt so much fear before in her life, and the only thing pushing her forward was the idea that if she shied away, her brother would face the exact same fate.
“Sign carefully, make it pretty. It’s the last thing those pretty fingers will ever do,” that miserable hag taunted.
Amy gulped and did as she was told, signing carefully. It all happened so quickly after that. The cloth being tied around her wrist, the dowel being inserted underneath the knot and twisted to tighten the tourniquet, and that first agonizing, white-hot, splintering pain of that black knife pushing through her skin. A piercing shriek of torment tore through her throat, accompanied by the nauseating feeling of her own blood trickling down the sides of her forearm and pooling on the table beneath her arm. It was too hot, too sticky, and somehow still felt barely present at all.
It took too long for shock to finally kick in, and allow the remainder of that torture to pass by in a haze. The next time Amy felt fully conscious, her mind felt numb. She was leaning against her brother’s shoulder, being carried by him. She knew what the soreness in her wrists was from, and she knew better to look. There was no chance the bloodied and cauterized sight would be anything less than sickening. Comfort would set in later, when it was easier to reconcile her own suffering against what their family would have gone through if it had been her brother instead of her.
TW: This story contains potentially triggering content including implied drowning, flooding, and natural disaster (Mediterranean hurricane).
This story centers around an original character, Althaea, mentions another original character by name, Timnes, and mentions three Greek gods. Written for @augusnippets whump writing challenge.
Althaea shuddered and pulled her legs to her chest and tucked her face between her knees for warmth. She wished that it helped more than it did, but with how cold and dark the room was, there was no chance for her soaked clothes to dry off. Just a little longer, she thought to herself. Someone would come for her soon and everything would be okay.
She prayed to Soteria that her older brother had made it to safety and that he would be back to save her soon. Her prayer, however, halted midway when a chilling and paralyzing thought struck her heart. What if Timnes didn’t want to come save her? She had spent the whole morning begging and bothering him to take her with him to the marketplace, and then didn’t listen when he’d told her to stay put while he talked with his friend. The more she let herself think about it, the more she cried, and soon, her sobs were indistinguishable from the trembling in her shoulders from the cold.
Through the smallest little crack in the wall she was leaning against, Althaea could see the terrible wreckage outside. The streets of Athens had flooded with angry and violent waters that rushed through the city without mercy. She flinched away from the view when she heard the desperate cries of people being washed away, and others clinging to panels of carts and stalls as rafts. The view inside the empty and dark house was only slightly better, but she couldn’t ignore the slowly rising icy water that was coming in through the cracks in the door and walls. It was all so black, if it weren’t for the faintest pale light from the moon, it would have been impossible to see the level of the rising waters.
The moon.
Althaea’s eyes widened with just the faintest bit of hope, and squeezed her eyes shut to silently pray. The water crept higher and higher up her body, and the wind was howling almost louder than the thunder outside. Her jaw was clenched tight and her eyes were screwed shut as her silent prayer transitioned to an audible and desperate plea through her gritted teeth. Her mother had always told her that Artemis is the protector of young girls, but had also warned her that too much fear could be perceived by the goddess as doubt and disrespect. So, all that Althaea could really do was listen to the thunder, pray, and hope that Artemis would save her before Zeus could drown her.
TW: This story contains potentially triggering content including insanity, imprisonment, and slightly tragic sibling dynamics.
This story centers around two original characters. Ophelia, and her twin brother Galen. Written for @augusnippets whump challenge.
Ophelia descended the spiraling steps of the tower carefully and slowly. There was minimal lighting, with only small windows to break the darkness every couple of levels of the rounded and crooked wooden stairs. While nothing about the inside of the tower was stable, the stairs were especially bad. Ophelia, however, pressed forward, unbothered by the creaking beneath her feet. Her presence there wasn’t actually allowed, but she assumed that wouldn’t be a problem. It's not like anyone in their right mind came down there anyways, and even if they looked down from the entrance, her dark clothing and hood would conceal her more than enough.
As she reached the bottom of the steps, the guard in front of the tiny barred cell raised an eyebrow at her from beneath his helmet. She reached into the pocket of her cloak and produced the official notice from the new queen that she was an authorized visitor, and without another word, the guard opened the door to let her in. She didn’t even need to take a step inside for her heart to drop at the view.
Inside, curled up in the corner, was Galen, her twin brother. Her twin brother who had brutally overthrown the kingdom and exiled her and so many of their friends. Her twin brother who had tragically lost his mind before she could do anything to stop it. He was sitting against the wall with his knees pulled to his chest, and his forearms cuffed to each other behind his back. His long black hair hung over his face in clumps of unwashed tangles.
Ophelia stepped forward and kneeled in front of him, hoping that seeing her would cheer him up at least a little bit, she received no response at all. She wasn't sure why she expected anything different, it wasn't as if he'd been particularly responsive during any of her other visits. With a sigh, she reached forward and pushed Galen’s hair back and away from his face so that she could see those steely blue eyes that had once been so vibrant and full of life and humor. Her chest and head ached with mourning over the future that Galen could have had if she had only noticed his spiraling mental state sooner.
“I’m so sorry Galen. I’ve been talking with the queen about letting you go, letting me take care of you. If she says yes, then that means you can come home! Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” she asked with a forced smile.
Yet again, no response. Just the same cold silence as before. She pulled the brush from her cloak and decided to at least help him feel a little more comfortable in his own skin, regardless of how much of him was left. She gently took a third of his hair into her hand and closed her fist around it so the brush wouldn’t pull while she worked out the tangles. Slowly but surely, section by section, from bottom to top and all the way around, Ophelia brushed Galen’s hair out until the matted mess that she’d arrived to see was replaced with the long sleek and smooth hair of the brother she once recognized.
A soft melody carried through the small dark space of the cell, and Ophelia looked at Galen in shock. His eyes were closed, and he was slowly rocking himself back and forth while humming a hymn from a religion the twins had long since abandoned. Ophelia could have started crying in that moment, but she bit her lip to hold it back. It was the smallest of signs that Galen might just still be inside this weak husk in front of her, and that he may still have some of his memory. A small but genuine smile crossed her face, and she continued brushing his hair while standing behind him and listening to him hum.
CW - Restraints, sensory deprivation, sensory over stimulation.
Their mind was fuzzy, matching the white noise. Thoughts had ceased to come a while ago. Anything substantial fizzed at the edges then drifted away into the noise.
A blindfold, mitts, and thick straps left little else aside from the headphones and static. Their world was slowly drifting away, dissolving into snow like an old television.
They couldn't tell if they were still strapped down. Their skin, fingers, toes, even their nose, felt buzzy. Like their whole body would dissolve into the noise. Nothing would be left of them. Not that they could care if they tried.
The silence was so sudden it was cacophonous. With the absence of the white noise a ringing started in their ears. A high pitched note reminding them that they existed.
A sweet balm to the senses spread through their mind as the headphone slide off their ears. Gentle and comforting, the voice cut through the overload. Grounding them, orienting them, giving them something real and solid to come back to.
"Are you ready, little one? Time to start your real training."
TW: This story contains content centering around parental alienation, and family-based gaslighting, as well as unethical psychiatric practice.
This short story centers around a few original characters. Sophie, her father, and their family psychiatrist, Dr. Pendleton. Written for @augusnippets whump writing challenge.
Many thanks to alchemistsarego for beta-reading this!
Sophie sat uncomfortably on the couch across from Dr. Pendleton. It was one of those green couches that was technically vinyl, but really just felt like sitting on foam enveloped in plastic wrap. It stuck to her skin and made shifting her weight nearly impossible without that agonizing peeling feeling. She couldn't help the need to move something with how she was feeling, the stakes of this session were high enough, but she was pretty sure that if she picked at the skin around her thumbnail any harder, it would bleed.
Dr. Pendleton wasn’t at all an old woman, but her brown ponytail had traces of grey all throughout it, and she had bags under her eyes that were even visible beneath her glasses. Her posture was straight, and she was wearing a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, and wore a black mask over the lower half of her face. Of course pandemic restrictions had long since passed, but it seemed that the psychiatrist was more cautious than the average citizen. She leaned forward in her seat towards Sophie, pen and clipboard in hand, and her eyes pushed up in what was likely a smile.
“Good morning Sophie, how have you been doing today?” the doctor asked in an even and cool tone that made a shiver run up Sophie’s spine, but was somehow welcoming enough to settle many of her nerves.
“I think I’m doing as okay as I can be, given the circumstances,” Sophie replied in a reserved and hushed voice.
“Yes, I understand that it’s been a long couple of months for your whole family. I’ve spoken to most of them by now. I suppose I mostly just want to ask you about your childhood, and what kind of environment you would describe your home as.”
Sophie nodded, and tried to find the best words for everything, then began, “Well, I’d say we had a pretty good childhood. Our mom home schooled us, so we always got plenty of attention. Especially for our schoolwork and our extracurriculars. Sports and physical activities were always pretty big for us, we were a pretty active home. Mom definitely pushed us to pursue any of those interests we expressed so most of us did pretty well. And it was easy to stay in shape because with Mom’s pneumonia and gluten allergy, most of what we had in the house to eat for a long time were gluten free snacks and frozen veggie dinners.”
There was a brief gleam off of Dr. Pendleton’s glasses before she held up a hand to stop Sophie and intervened, “Sophie, that sounds very concerning. It sounds to me as if your mother was depriving you kids of any real nutrition during those years, and worse, was directly pushing you to exercise those already minimal calories off. Would you say your mother was neglectful, or maybe even abusive, in this way? You and your sisters, I won’t lie, are alarmingly thin.”
Sophie’s eyes widened dramatically as if she had never even considered that those years in their childhood would qualify as that. Emotions and thoughts swirled in her mind, and it was all just too much for her to process. In just mere moments, she felt hurt, and confused, but most of all she felt angry. She looked down at her body, one that she’d never truly put much thought into, and began to tremble along with her voice when she finally managed to answer the doctor.
“I hadn’t even thought of that, but, but I think you might be right,” Sophie whispered.
Dr. Pendleton nodded sympathetically, and handed Sophie a tissue. As she was distracted wiping her eyes, the psychiatrist glanced to the door of her office where Sophie’s father could be seen standing in the hallway and looking in with an expectant expression. Dr. Pendleton gave him a small half-smile, and nodded, confirming that she had done exactly as instructed. He returned the nod, confirming that she would receive her additional payment by the end of the day.
day 31 — bonus day :) write whatever you feel like writing today or have a nice day of rest
AuguSnippets is an event that encourages the short and sweet of the whump genre. Ideally, your drabbles would be under 500 or even under 100 words, maybe even just a dialogue prompt. This, however, does not mean I won't reblog longer prompt fills! Don't stress too much on that limit. I just think it's sometimes nice to challenge yourself to write shorter drabbles, and it can also work as a very good exercise to write daily or semi-daily, and it doesn't need a lot of prep.
As for tagging your work, please use the appropriate trigger warnings. This is so everyone can stay safe and avoid potentially triggering topics while participating. Also, if your work is nsfw, please don't forget to tag it as mature content! If your work is not tagged properly, I won't be able to reblog it! Thank you!
Our special tag will be "#augusnippets day [x]". On the first day that would be "#augusnippets day 1". This is so I and others can find your work easier! You can also tag the blog, that's an even more surefire way to get me to notice your prompt fill :)
Is this a writing only event?
Yeah, this one is exclusively writing focused.
Do I have to use the special tag or tag this blog?
Not if you don't want to get featured on this blog :) It's just so I can find your work easier and reblog it here! If that's not something you're interested in, just scribble away without it.
Is the "under 500" a hard limit for the word count?
No, but I encourage everyone to try and keep to it in the spirit of this event.
Can I submit nsfw works?
Yes! Just please tag it properly :)
Can I mix and match the prompts from different paths?
Yes! Have fun!
What do I need to do to get the completionist badge?
Either you need to complete one whole path, or complete 10 prompt fills altogether while mixing and matching. Those who complete all 30 days (and maybe even the bonus day) will get something extra special!
Can I write fandom related things?
Yes! This event is both for original characters and fandom related writing.
Hello hello! I’m currently looking for beta readers for upcoming whump challenges! I’m currently looking for up to 4 readers for a challenge in August and up to 5 for Whumptober.
“Collapse,” a fic posted on my page, is a decent example of my writing style and general intensity of content if you’d like to look at a sample before expressing interest.
If you are at all interested, I’d love to hear from you, so please message me!
Recently, I’ve had this funny image pop into my head that every time Batman encounters a young child while on patrol, his own kids pop out of nowhere and start serenading him with their original parody of “Man in Finance.”
Batman approaches a young child…
Dick: He’s looking for a brand new Robin…
Jason: Orphan…
Tim: Black Hair…
Cass: Blue eyes…
Bruce groans to himself and Damian just glares at them.
Happy summer, everyone! Your Whumptober mods are crawling out of their caves, sleepy and bewildered and getting ready to plan this year's whumpfest.
Keep an eye out for graphic updates, a refreshed FAQ that's easier to read, and of course, your chance to pick your favorite tropes to be included in this year's challenge themes!
Enjoy a sweet summer, because Whumptober is returning soon!
Hi there! My name is Aspen, and this is a repost of my one-shot whump fic of Dick Grayson (Nightwing) struggling against Mad Hatter’s control. If you’re interested, a link to my Ao3 account is on my profile, have a great day!
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A heavy pulse thundered in his ears, alongside searing pain in a tight band around his head and the shrill screeching that rang discordantly with his usual tinnitus. Somewhere beyond the agony and chaos in his mind, there were voices loudly arguing. About what, Dick wasn't entirely sure. His mind and energy were being spent on fighting whatever was putting him through this Hell.
Focus. Focus. How did I get here? What happened just before the pain?
All he could remember was being directed by Oracle to follow up on a report, but everything else was becoming increasingly hazy.
Okay. If the "Before" is too hard, try to figure out the now.
Even if the pain wouldn't subside, temporary reprieve could come from focusing on the other sensations in his body. Dick looked around to see a concrete floor... dark walls... and the symbol that's haunted every nightmare, as well as every dream of hope he's had since childhood, the bat symbol. A familiar red helmet stood out to the side. Bruce and Jason.
He could feel cold concrete on his cheek, and colder air on his head and face. The familiar feeling of his suit contrasted strongly with the unfamiliar and heavy feeling of his arms bound to his chest - is this a straight jacket? Who put him in a straight jacket? Was he a prisoner somewhere?
Outside the ringing and the pounding in Dick's ears, Jason's raised voice clashed with Bruce's, and what sounded like other jumbled and unseen voices from slightly further away echoes behind.
I won't worry about the other senses... okay... my hair is gone, I'm in a straight jacket, I'm on the floor, I'm in a closed off and dark room, and Bruce and Jason are arguing.
Dick was in no state to put the pieces together, as his head pain erupted into something far more severe, eliciting a cry of shock and a jerk of pain from him. Even thrashing on the ground, someone with strong hands managed to sit Dick upright. Who was he looking at? The haziness that came from the ear-splitting ringing and now truly thunderous headache brought a level of disorientation that Dick wasn't used to. He saw the color red, but that was all he could make out.
A voice that sounded as if it was underwater spoke to him, definitely coming from the mass of red in front of him.
"Dick! Snap out of it! Tell us where Hatter's chip is and we'll get it off of you."
Dick? Hatter? Who are they? No. Dick is me. I am Dick. God this hurts...
A strange feeling that resembled dread settled in Dick's stomach the moment the voice had finished speaking. So did a sense of jealousy, although he couldn't identify why he was feeling either at the sound of a voice that sounded as if it wanted to help him. Regardless, he couldn't bring himself to do much of anything.
Why do I feel afraid? Why can't I answer? Who would I be answering?
A new, very clear voice rang through his head.
In front of you is the man who replaced you, who made you worthless to the person you trusted most.
Worthless...? I haven't felt worthless since - Jason. Jason replaced me.
That's right. Jason Todd. The Red Hood. The second Robin. The better Robin.
No... that's wrong. Jason is... something else. Wait. Who is Jason?
"Dick! Are you listening to me? I know it hurts, come on tell me how to help you! We can't get the chip if you don't tell us where it is, we don't have time here! It's me, Jason! Come on, you only have to respond for a second!" The red mass in front of Dick disappeared, and instead was the face of a man with dark, concerned and angry eyes. Dark hair too. Except for that white in the front. When did Jason get white hair again? Who is Jason?
Submit, Nightwing. Submit to my command and I will ensure Jason Todd is served justice for what he did to you.
Very suddenly, a new pain, far more extreme than the pain in his head, cracked and splintered through his leg. Dick let out a pained yell, but for a moment, his mind was cleared.
"DICK! Where did Hatter put the chip?" Jason had gripped the collar of the straight jacket and was desperately screaming in Dick's face.
"Jason? I don't know what you're-"
"MAD HATTER!!! The mind control chip, where is it?!"
Dick's memory cleared in that instant. He could remember earlier that afternoon, when Babs had told him about the Mad Hatter sighting, and where to go. He could remember sneaking his way there, and watching the crazed Jervis Tetch from a distance. And he could remember being strapped down, before that thing had been implanted, and passing out from the pain of that procedure.
"Fuck, I don't know! But they were cutting into my-" The pain, the ringing, and the pounding returned with a violent force all at once. "AGH, my head!"
"Bruce it's in his head, tell them and get a surgeon in here NOW!"
They don't truly care, Nightwing. You know that. Batman only wants his weapon. He's not going to save you because he wants you alive. He doesn't care. And the Red Hood only thinks he cares, because Batman is telling him to. I can handle both of them. Just submit, Nightwi-
"Dickie, I know it hurts but you've gotta listen to me. There's a surgeon on his way. We'll get that thing out of you. I swear I'd cut in myself if I knew for sure it wouldn't kill you. You've gotta hang on." A man was in front of Dick again, speaking softly this time, but desperately nonetheless. Who was it?
"Keep him out of your head, Dick. If you give in, I don't know for sure if we can get you back, and you can't do that to us."
Do you see? He only cares for their benefit.
Exhaustion was setting in, and with it, the ringing and throbbing seemed to dull. It would be so easy to just sleep, and let the pain, and the confusion go away. The man in front of him was shouting at him in what was easily identifiable as rage, and still concern. Dick figured even if he didn't know who he was talking to, he at least owed him some kind of response.
"Us...?" was all Dick managed to get out.
"Oh come on Dickie, yes, us. Bruce, me, Tim, Damian, Barbara, Starfire for Christ's sake!"
Fragments of images flashed through Dick's mind. Most passed by without much recognition. A few, however, brought images to his mind that almost stopped all of his pain altogether. Wholly green eyes, orange skin and red hair. Ginger hair, glasses, and a wheelchair. Comfort and familiarity in both.
All lies, Nightwing. Don't fall prey to a false sense of safety. Submit to my command.
That exhaustion crept in once again, providing more relief from the pain, but seemingly even more deprivation of his memories and mental function.
"Dick! Come on stay with me!"
"Who are you...?"
"Shit. Dick, it's me. It's Jason. Come on! We met after I tried to take the wheels off of Batman's car!"
"No... that... that was Robin..."
The blue eyes in front of him were growing more frantic every second. Dick felt bad for the man, and wished he could help him.
"Yes, Dick. That's me. I was Robin after you. Remember? After you were Robin-"
"Jason was..."
"That's right! Me! I'm Jason."
"Jason didn't have white hair... Jason was Robin. Jason didn't dress like you either, and was much younger. Jason..." Dizziness and exhaustion were already overwhelming Dick's senses, but there was now a heavy feeling of anger and grief accompanying them, swirling in his mind and crushing his heart. "Jason is dead."
That's right. These people seek to deceive you. Submit.
"Shit shit shit... Yes, I died, but I came back! Please remember, please! Stay with me Dick. I swear to God if you make me have to explain this to everyone I will never forgive you. Shit! Where is Bruce with that surgeon?! Dick come on just stay with me, talk to me, tell me how you're feeling right now."
"Who's... Dick...?" There was too much going on. Too much ringing, too much pounding, too much light, too much yelling... it was all too much.
It would be so, so easy to just sleep. Anything to put a stop to the pandemonium and agony in his head. Anything to distract from the pain in his leg, or the rawness of his throat from screaming.
I can give you that relief. Submit.
Submit. That'd been said a few times... the pleading and distraught man he'd been talking to didn't seem to want him to go to sleep, but surely he must not know how much pain he's in. This other voice wanted him to rest, and wanted the pain to go away.
I don't know who either of these voices are... I don't know who Dick is... or Nightwing for that matter... I can't seem to remember where I am, or why I'm in pain. But I can't fill in the gaps when my mind and this room are spinning like this. Sleep will help. Sleep will help the pain, and I'll figure all of this out when I wake up.
Jason shook Dick violently by the collar of the straight-jacket when he watched Dick's eyes roll back into his skull, and a feeling of both terror and grief flooded his veins when the eyes of the man in his arms rolled back into focus in an expression that looked nothing like the brother that should have been there.
