Hola, Doomers! Tis the season! Well, maybe not yet, but we don't actually acknowledge a proper calendar around these parts, do we? That said, it's time for the first-ever Doomer-requested Holi-DOOM Bingo Card!
What the heck's Holi-DOOM?
It's a bingo card. Each square has two prompts. The top prompt is a whump prompt, and the bottom one is a festive prompt! You pick which one you want to do (or do both)! The point is to get bingo—row, column, diagonal, four corners, even postage stamp!
This event will run during December. If you want your work reblogged here, just tag @juneofdoom in your post. Anything tagged before December will be put in the queue for December 1st. The squares don't follow any sort of day schedule— just post whatever prompt on whatever day, any time in December.
Rules
Tag your stuff with appropriate warnings, plzkthnx.
AI-created content is highly discouraged and frowned upon. I have no way of "checking", but I respect the time and effort people put into their crafts and encourage everyone to do the same. This isn't a contest for best written or prettiest art — it's a challenge, so challenge yourself.
Be cool. We're cool here. Don't like, don't read. Don't start none, won't be none. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it. Let people be happy. 💕 (But if someone's comin' at you within the confines of this challenge, let me know ASAP.)
FAQ
You can participate with original and fan works!
You can do so with whatever medium you want!
You can combine this challenge with other challenges!
You can start/ finish this challenge whenever the heck you want! And I'll reblog it here if you tag the blog, even if it's not December!
You can use one, some, or all of the prompts listed for a given day however you want! The point is to be creative!
You can mix and match prompts from different days!
Angst, hurt/comfort, and lighter/funnier forms of whump are welcomed and encouraged! Torture takes many forms! :)
[AO3 Collection] - Opens late November 2026
If you have any questions, comments, shout outs, ideas, or just need some encouragement, inbox me anytime!
Have fun, Doomers! ❄️
June of Doom Prompt Lists: 2023 || 2024 || 2025 || 2026
1) Vaping is confirmed to cause cancer. Vaping coats the lungs with toxic substances, such as heavy metals and benzene, which are known to cause cancer
2) Many vapes contain diacetyl, which, when inhaled causes popcorn lung, or scarring of the lung
3) Ultrafine particles, when being inhaled, can be lodged in the trachea (not good!)
4) Ultrafine particles can also constrict the arteries in the lungs potentially causing A HEART ATTACK
5) Vaping is relatively new. Not much studies have been done in comparison to tobacco. Plus, the vaping companies are powerful people. There is a large chance that they are purposely downplaying and even burying any evidence that vaping is harmful - just like the tobacco companies before them. They do not care about you, or your health, or the truth. They only care for money
Please I’m begging yall as an asthmatic, your fruit-flavored vapor will still give people around you who are smoke-sensitive attacks. So will weed. Don’t do it inside; if you’re at a bus stop or something try to not stand right next to people or move downwind of them if you can.
Is Tumblr aware of Count Binface, current hope for our nation?
Let me explain:
Grotesque fascist grifter, Nigel Farage, is the leader of Reform, the racist far right party he created because UKIP got what it wanted (Brexit) and it sucked.
Having tried and failed to be an MP many times (but somehow getting more screentime than any Liberal Democrat or Green politician), he finally succeeded in the last election because people were so overwhelmingly pissed off with the Conservatives, and many right-wing people saw Reform as the new Conservative Party; partly because it's full of rejects from the Conservative Party.
Speculation: he doesn't really want to be an MP, he wants to be a fascist grifter. He's annoyed by suggestions he do things like Be In His Constituency and Serve His Constituents.
He's recently been caught having accepted a VERY large amount of money from some unsavory people that he insists was a totally legitimate 'donation' and not breaking any rules.
Only it did break the rules and it's very clear that it did and things are in motion to hold him to account.
To avoid this, he has resigned as an MP, saying this is a protest at his treatment by the 'establisment' (he is a rich fascist grifter, but he likes to cosplay as a Man of the People). This has triggered a by-election, in which he is standing, with the hope that the people of his constituency will either elect him in a resounding win, indicating they don't care that he's corrupt (having not heard everything the investigation is uncovering), or someone from Labour or the Conservatives will win and he can swan off to America, free to grift again because of what the 'establishment' did to him.
Only, all the major political parties have agreed not to stand, stating openly that this is an obvious stunt and they won't legitimise it. So if he doesn't win, he can't say it was because he was too much of a rebel and the Establishment went against him, he'll just be a loser, which doesn't play too well with the right-wingers he wants to grift. And if he does get back in the investigation will go forward without any kind of 'mandate' from his constituency buoying him up.
But. There is another option.
COUNT BINFACE IS RUNNING.
Count Binface is part of the grand British tradition of joke candidates who stand as a protest option. They usually don't get enough votes to get their deposit back (which is supposed to deter unserious people) but they don't care, because DEMOCRACY.
Of course, Count Binface has never won, but it is hilarious to see a completely serious pathetic fascist concede defeat while standing next to a man with a bin on his head to whom they are democratically equal.
But if nobody else is standing. And if enough people in Clacton-on-Sea are finally cheesed off enough with Farage not doing anything for them, there is just a chance that one of the funniest things to ever happen in politics will happen.
Imagine. Imagine for just a moment that the Grotesque Fascist not only loses, but loses to Count Binface.
Hi there, I'm local constituent of the man who's face looks like how a full ashtray tastes like.
This afternoon it was confirmed that the by-election is indeed happening. These are the possible results:
Farage wins, but who is this victory over? A man with a bin for a head; disgraced racist far right actor Laurence Fox; 2 candidates with vague connections to Clacton; and possibly someone from the Monster Raving Loony Party. It would be the hollowest of victories and deemed a complete waste of money (Reform supposedly offered to pay for the election, but don't understand rules about bias and impartiality.)
Farage loses, to any of these people, including a man with a bin for a head, who would then be an actual Member of Parliament.
Here's the thing, because if he does indeed win this by-election, the investigation into his finances will continue and likely find him in breach of all these rules, which will trigger ANOTHER by-election.
Farage will of course claim he is a scape-goat, or being persecuted, or do what his bestest buddy Trump does and just talk a load of nonsense.
And while I've overestimated my fellow constituents' intelligence before, there comes a point where even they will say "Hey wait a minute....."
I spent the afternoon arranging our books by size and color (and it’s so satisfying and looks amazing) and my partner came home and stared in shock at the bookcase and then said “i’m a librarian, you can’t do this.”
it has occurred me during this process that apparently not everyone thinks about books by what color they are? like, literally when i’m looking for a book, i picture it in my mind. i have a very…tactile experience with the books i read and idk! i thought everyone did that lol.
my partner was like “how will i find [this book] for instance” and i replied “easy, it’s purple” and he looked at me like i was a witch.
This actually is interesting in terms of information-seeking behavior, which is a thing librarians think about a lot and often actually study (some library jobs require you to publish, and academic librarians, for instance, will often use the students at the college they work at to study how they search for information in order to figure out how to best provide them services).
When you go for an MLS (Master’s of Library Science, which is a thing, and which is usually required for “professional-level” library work [which is also a weird and contentious concept that I won’t go into here]), one of the things you study is the organization of information. This deals with how to determine what a book or other material is “about"—a concept we tongue-in-cheek call “aboutness"—and how to convey that to a potential user of the item and make it easy for them to find. Things like keywords and subject headings, do I put this book about how often wild birds attack aerial drones in with books about birds or with books about technology, if its a fictional novel do I put fantasy in it’s own section or mix it in with all of the other fiction, so on and so on.
OP is organizing books by how they would look for them. OP’s partner is thinking in terms of aboutness. This is a system that works for OP because it’s their personal library: they know basically what books they own and they only own books that are relevant to them, and if they know what the book looks like, that can be a quick way to find it.
In a library that assumes the public (or people who do not own that particular collection of books) are using the collection, that doesn’t work. Books are often re-issued in multiple covers, or re-bound in new covers when they get worn out, and if the user doesn’t know what the book looks like or is expecting a different cover, they’re lost. That’s why non-personal libraries used standardized cataloging systems like the Dewey Decimal System or Library of Congress System to organize a book by what it’s “about”, and then put books about the same or similar topics together, marked with labels and signage so a person unfamiliar with the book or collection can find their way to it.
Basically, OP’s system works for their own personal library, because it’s best suited to how the primary user—OP themselves—looks for books. OP’s librarian partner is coming from a background of thinking in terms of a public-facing collection, where aboutness is the key criteria and communicating it to a user unfamiliar with the collection is the priority.
The OP didn't just rearrange their own books. They rearranged both their and their partners collection of books according to their (OP's) preference. I fear I side with the librarian partner in expressing dismay. Arrange your own books how you wish, but please don't disarrange mine.
Wrote a tiny thing, what should happen next, answers on a postcard...
Scott took in a huge breath, slumped back in the desk chair until the back of the seat tilted back, hands going up to his head to try and hold his brain in. He just needed five seconds and then he would be able to find some hidden reservoir of patience that would allow him to continue wading through the utter bullshit that currently filled his inbox. Triage, delegate, review and move on. Simple, calm, logical. He shifted one palm from where it was covering his left eye. Above him the cloudless blue visible through the vast glass ceiling was calling to him. He let his eyes settle into a focal distance further than his cursed inbox.
His moment of meditation was cut short though.
“How the hell did that get there?” He sat up with a jolt, causing the chair to flip forward. There on what should have been a pristine glass ceiling, maintained by a small army of external cleaning bots, was a bright yellow. Scott squinted to be sure, but there was absolutely no mistaking it.
Scott sighed, and let his head flop down onto the desk. It might take a little more than a few moments meditation for this one.
Since no divine intervention was forthcoming, Scott forced himself up from his seat and, with weary feet, crossed the room in a disappointingly few number of strides. Crossing the threshold, Scott let the sun warm him for a moment after the marginally cooler living area, then walked on.
Leaning down to grab an orange off the end of a sun lounger, tossing it up in the air and catching it once before launching it at the splash of colour darting the length of the pool. There was a “plunk” noise and the sun kissed head disappeared under the water. Scott would have been concerned if the same head hadn’t bobbed back up almost instantly like a cork from a bottle.
“What was that for?” a waterlogged voice asked, not exactly offended, more a request for clarification. A cynical soul would suggest that he was trying to find out exactly which particular crime he was currently being tried for.
Scott simply pointed to the sloping roof of the main living area.
Gordon wiped the wet hair away from his face and peered up at the roofline.
“Huh?”
Another empathic pointing finger, now with added eyebrow raise.
Gordon doggy paddled over to the poolside, and crossed his arms over the sun warmed stone.
“Ok, so is it a book, a film, a song? How many syllables?”
Scott folded his arms.
“Maybe a TV show?”
“On the roof, Gordon, why is it on the roof?”
“Genuinely, I have zero clue what you are talking about right now. Are you feeling ok there bro? Is the stress getting to you? Not feeling dizzy or smelling burnt toast are you?”
Scott grit it teeth together until he could hear his dentist's warnings in his ears and forced himself to unclench the muscles.
After a very forced calming breath, Scott didn’t feel confident enough to try for both coherent and polite words. So, instead, he waved his arms back towards the big glass doors. Gordon took the hint and pulled himself out of the water in one fluid movement. A towel was thrown at his head, and he lazily swiped at the worst of the water as he followed his brother's long strides back inside.
Scott stopped abruptly in the middle of the hardwood floor, and pointed skyward.
“That!” he said, all punctuation audible.
Gordon shielded his eyes with one hand to peer upward, towel valiantly clasped at his waist with the other hand.
“Is that…?”
“Yes. And I want to know why!?” Scott had folded his arms again.
“Yeah, why is that up there?”
“Thats what I’d like to know!”
“Oh great, well, you know, let me know when you find out, cos that’s weird.”
“Gordon, they are your swim shorts, that’s why I am asking you! Why are they up there?”
“Me? Why would I put them up there?” Gordon gave Scott a blank look.
“I Don't Know! But it's hardly out of character.” Scott practically spat out between gritted teeth.
“That is derogatory stereotyping Scott, I’m surprised at you, I expected better!”
“Gordon….!” was all but growled.
“I promise you Scott, I have no idea how my trunks ended up on the roof.” Gordon held one palm up to underline his oath
Scott raised one doubting eyebrow.
“I Promise! But, if you’re offering to crack out the jet pack or the grapple packs to go up and investigate, I’d quite like them back, they’re my favorites. Thanks!” Gordon clapped Scott on the shoulder and strolled back to the pool.
The internal screaming could be heard by Scott's long suffering ancestors.
Recently, I had to look up some information about astronaut, John Glenn. (My 11 yo is an inquisitive child.) I noticed that his full name is John Herschel Glenn, Jr.
Herschel caught my attention.
Because I immediately thought of astro siblings William and Caroline Herschel.
This had me wondering...what if John Tracy's middle name isn't Glenn, but Herschel? Given where he works, and his interest in space and astronomy, would that be very far off base?
important reminder that most people you follow online are significantly lamer than you think they are including me. and if you feel insecure comparing yourself to someone online: DON'T. theyre probably also lame and weird. most people on the internet are
You know what? Fuck it I'm adding more context. Sesame Street has talked about the topic of death more than once and it's done with such gentle carefulness without watering down or censoring the heaviness of the situations. It treats heavy subject matter with respect and dignity and has been for DECADES.
From the early 1980s:
To 2025:
Hell, they even cover the devastating heaviness of MASS SHOOTINGS without censoring or watering anything down.
They've been doing this for YEARS, and it's ALWAYS handled with dignity, respect, seriousness, understanding, and love.
Whenever I see people censoring words because it "might offend" someone or the big ad companies that are currently trying to run everything? I just want to say to them: "What? Is Sesame Street too mature for you?" Because really...what the hell are we doing.
Mister Roger's Neighborhood also covered difficult topics with respect, age-appropriately, and without pulling a single punch. It's crazy that we've worked ourselves up so much that we're self-censoring like it's always been the norm.
This clip is from 1968 and discussed assassination after Bobby Kennedy died.
I'm not sure when this clip originally aired, but it was likely sometime in the 1980s. They talk about murder and, incredibly by today's standards, what sort of emotions (anger, fear, loneliness) might drive someone to hurt or kill other people + how we can manage our own difficult or painful feelings.
They listed almost every Faulkner book except the one I've read (Light in August) and surprisingly few Terry Pratchett books (which I've read rather a lot of). Does no one read Patrick O'Brien or Roddy Doyle any more?
I was amazed how many Nicholas Sparks and Colleen Hoover books were on the list. Are folks okay?
A whump event set in August, run by @starryybrained
Write-up of prompts & rules under the cut
MAIN PROMPTS:
Day 1: resentment / infection / sinister
Day 2: electricity / dislocation / drugs
Day 3: lonely / paradise / cold
Day 4: shackles / support / stoic
Day 5: gunpoint / gristle / terror
Day 6: high / choking / charred
Day 7: needles / tense / smile
Day 8: angel / bite / mercy
Day 9: fresh meat / tragedy / selfish
Day 10: payback / beast / beating
Day 11: cpr / corrosive / coughing blood
Day 12: storm / stumbling / squirm
Day 13: cave in / catatonic / plane crash
Day 14: itch / skin / hooks
Day 15: hidden enemy / crime / body
Day 16: broken promise / flood / still waters
Day 17: chemicals / count / chronic condition
Day 18: flayed / knew it / shattered
Day 19: head trauma / wires / fuzzy
Day 20: training / jealousy / woozy
Day 21: sorrow / sanguine / system
Day 22: watching / bonded / resistance
Day 23: blanket / bold / crowbar
Day 24: draining / deadly / doomed
Day 25: twisted / aversion / crunch
Day 26: listless / misstep / remember
Day 27: rest / behave / title
Day 28: party / mania / limit
Day 29: exile / leash / fault
Day 30: quiet / pinned / perfect
Day 31: free day
ALT PROMPTS:
Alien
Headline
Tradeoff
Disappear
Freak show
Worry
Power hungry
Shadows
Reconditioning
Blindfold
Reunion
GUIDELINES:
Prompts should ideally be responded to in the form of whump
Creators can make any type of media they want (Yes, this includes any kind of media, no matter how niche. As long as it’s creative, it’s allowed)
Tag & trigger warn your content accordingly. This includes marking NSFW and putting up proper barriers against minors seeing it
You can complete these prompts in tandem with any other event or other prompts (such as in combination with Bad Things Happen Bingo, AU-gust, etc.)
DO NOT use ai or plagiarize
Tag your works as #augustofwhump and/or #augustofwhump2026. In addition to that, you can also tag this account — @augustofwhump. I’ll try to reblog whatever I can!
I'll give this a shot. TAG or original Thunderbirds, CSaTM, Secret Agent 21, any of my AUs. Please include the whole prompt as well as any specific character's you want to see. Please no non-con or eye trauma requests, and I reserve the right to politely decline anything I am uncomfortable with.
What’s this? Me adding to a fic I haven’t updated since 2023? Sssssh nobody saw nuffin…
Alright home straight now. I will sort this out in just two more chapters, I promise. Really.
What went before - the below will make a little more sense if you read the first three bits 🥴
🎵💚🎵💙🎵💚🎵💙🎵💚🎵💙🎵💚🎵
His shivering big brother had been prised from his hidey hole with a mixture of gentle reassurance, generous application of the little-brother-eyes and eventually a bit of heavy-lifting muscle.
After the longest, dampest hug the two brothers had shared in a long time, Scott’s tense posture had melted a little and he had let himself be chivvied into the shower to warm up. Virgil waited for the sound of running water then let his calm demeanour slide into a grimace and an agonised groan.
With a shiver of his own he pulled his damp t-shirt away from his torso and flapped it around in a futile attempt to dry it. He frowned at the soggy patch which proved how long Scott had been sat out there trying to drown himself in sea mist.
He gave it up as a bad job, ripped it off and shoved it down the laundry chute, then rifled through his brother’s closet to pull out another of Scott’s oversized hoodies. Everyone knew he deliberately bought them too big so his stockier little brothers would be comfortable in any borrowed items. They hung off the eldest brother like a sack but he still insisted on wearing them occasionally so that when one was inevitably stolen, it was still undeniably his… so the magic worked.
Virgil allowed himself an affectionate smile at the sight of one of his own trademark plaid shirts hanging alongside. A shock of red amongst blue, grey, black. Scott would insist it was there in case Virgil ever happened to need it. Virgil knew better. The magic worked both ways, it seemed.
He selected an XXL mid-grey TopGun-logo’d number that was so huge it was sagged around his own shoulders like a tired hug. Finally physically warm again, there was now no excuse for the arhythmic trembling of his hands… Virgil clamped them under his armpits as he began to pace the floor in the restless manner he’d usually roll his eyes at his elder brother for.
How could he have been so blind?
Scott’s tiny frown lines had been barely visible over the last days but more than evident to one who could read him like a book despite his valiant attempts to disguise them with a calm voice and encouraging smiles. Indeed Virgil had noticed them, but hadn’t let himself stop to consider why they were there. To care why they were there. Instead, he’d wrapped himself up in his own fog of bitterness to the extent he’d viewed his brother’s uncharacteristically quiet, unbusy but constant presence as an annoyance - that precious availability the two of them so often missed out on had been an ironic frustration at a time Virgil had for once in his life been trying to avoid his eldest brother.
Scott knew. Of course he’d known that Virgil had upset himself and he’d been doing his best to give him chance to talk when he was ready. To be there for him without pushing. Quiet and patient. Everything Virgil had requested in the past when Scott’s anxious tendency to smother with love and concern became overwhelming.
He’d done everything right.
His reward: Virgil had made it clear he’d rather talk to anyone else.
Even the most confident, rational person might have wondered if the problem was with them after all. Scott, always managing to accept blame faster than anyone else even realised it was up for allocation, must have thought he’d done something truly awful.
It would have been torture.
The whistle in his ears hardened into the screech of horsehair ground furiously across discordant strings. The fragile songbird that had so soothed him earlier was torn and broken in the claws of a predator and it was Virgil who’d let it near.
“I’ve upset you.”
The note had been discarded in the rush to find his brother but Virgil was never going to forget the words.
“I miss you.”
With a rush of clarity Virgil realised that at least half of the Wrong feeling this last week wasn’t even the same Wrong feeling he’d started it with: He’d been missing Scott, even as he’d tried to avoid him.
Obviously he should have been honest from the start. He knew this. And yet… And yet he still didn’t know how he could possibly bring up that particular issue without Scott thinking it was his fault - ironically trying not to worry his brother had been the supposed motivation behind the hurried and entirely unconvincing lie that caused this mess in the first place. But it was clear he was going to feel hurt either way and Virgil couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t allow it to continue. Not when right now his big brother was punishing himself for the far worse crimes he believed he must have committed.
Virgil ended his circuit at the bathroom door and rested his head against it, listening to the irregular splatter of water falling around an object that kept shifting position.
He released the breath he was holding and screwed up his face as he drew a fresh gulp of air into this lungs. This was Scott. His best friend. They’d dealt with worse. As little kids they’d promised to always stick together, no matter what. To assume the best of each other. It was a rare occasion since that either of them had ever broken that vow…
The guitar drew his eye. More to distract himself from the screeching in his ears and his spiralling panic over finding the right words than a real desire to play, he crossed to the bed and perched on the edge, pulling the instrument across his lap and picking out a few quiet chords. The G and the Em sparked a sudden memory and he began strumming in earnest the simple accompaniment to a song they’d sang together in the simpler days -
And when you call
And need me near
Sayin' where'd you go?
Brother, I'm right here
And on those days
When the sky begins to fall
You're the blood of my blood
We can get through it all
Absorbed in humming to himself Virgil didn’t notice the sound of running water cease nor the bathroom door opening. The guitar spluttered a discordant twang as from behind him came a soft and still painfully uncertain:
“Hey.”
Virgil's big brother stood awkwardly in the bathroom doorway, swathed in his signature super-soft blue bathrobe, wet hair standing up in spikes, with the slightest hint of a curl at the edges where it was beginning to dry. As Virgil looked up at him, Scott looked as though he was about to say something more but suddenly dropped his eyes to pick intently at a loose thread on his cuff.
Moments passed. Each of them held the weight of the whole week. The months of quiet wrongness before it. The years of refusing to allow the feeling to become real by shaping it in words. Scott had always been better at words.
Virgil still had no idea where to begin.
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The song Virgil is playing is called Brother by NEEDTOBREATHE which has always struck me as a very Tracy song, especially Earth&Sky. Here’s my favourite version (the part quoted is the middle 8 and starts about 1:35).
PSA to fan creators who don't have a lot of regular contact with children: They are almost always bigger than you think. A 1-year-old baby may already be walking. A toddler is likely already hip-high. A 10-year-old may already be taller than at least one of their parents. A 14/15 year old may already have reached their adult height.
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
snowghoul
