#this one's for the whump enjoyers

[red-hot-moon]

Oh, you shouldn't have come here, Blondie.

MIAMI VICE 5x04 Bad Timing

[deluxewhump]

Fishhook

Adjacent to this piece

CW: accidental hand injury, nausea and dizziness response (vasovagal syncope I suppose), wound tending, max + lo talk about pet whump universe and their relationship to each other in it

@distinctlywhumpthing -you requested some lines on this :))

The fishhook caught Carlo’s hand like a surgical tool and buried itself to its glinting base in no more than a second.

Adrenaline almost made him try to pull it out, but he hesitated. Instinct told him it was in too deep, the hook too curved. It took a moment of staring down at it to even believe what he’d just done. How had he allowed such a careless thing to happen? He wished to return to the previous minute and pay attention. That was Max’s oft repeated advice when they were out traipsing the woods: just pay attention. He glanced at his new keeper, fishing in the sunshine twenty yards away and oblivious to Carlo’s mistake.

It was the same hand he’d broken his finger on. It seemed like another lifetime he’d gone onto his master’s back porch cradling it, unsure what to do. Erik had helped him, hadn’t even faulted him for provoking Keith. He remembered sleeping for a long time in a pleasant medicated daze, his finger in a splint and throbbing mildly. Being unable to bring this new mistake to Erik for help wrung him breathless with homesickness. The adrenaline flagged from the first time since he’d realized what he’d done, and in its absence he finally felt the pain.

“Max?” he croaked, and coughed to clear his throat. He wished again he could just pull it out himself, but didn’t dare.

“Max!” he called, louder this time. Starlings sang in the autumn trees above their heads, and where their branches broke was a strip of blue sky like a mirror of the river. Upstream, Max turned to him.

“I…” it was too stupid to say out loud. His voice shook. After he trailed off, Max put it together by the way he was holding his injured hand, or the thin line of blood making its way slowly to his wrist. Either way, he set down his fishing rod. Even with his eyes dropped back to his hand, Carlo heard the urgency in Max’s approach from his boots on the rocky riverbed.

“It’s okay,” were the first words out of his mouth— spoken so surely, like a man who had seen a dozen fish hooks in hands just this week. He touched the sides of Carlo’s arms. “It’s okay. Can I see?”

He lifted his hand between them. Max hissed in sympathy. “Really got that in there, huh?”

As he took hold of his wrist to better inspect the accident, Carlo became aware of a rising dizziness that had gripped him some moments ago, only now becoming severe enough to warrant his attention. He took a deep inhale through his nose to try to gain control of it. His face felt impossibly hot. Max’s eyes lifted from his hand to meet his.

“Sit down.” He guided down him to the rocks. “Don’t look at it. Look at the opposite shore over there. Take another deep breath. You’re gonna be fine. How’s the pain?”

“Not bad. It’s just really… weird that there’s a hook in my hand.”

Max knelt down to his level and took his hand again to inspect. “I know. It’s enough to make anyone a little squeamish. Don’t look— that’ll make it worse. Keep looking over at the other side of the river. I’ve got you.”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying enough attention. It’s so stupid. I didn’t—”

“Shh,” Max hushed, busy cutting the still-attached fishing line with his knife without tugging on the hook. If he hadn’t already been lightheaded, Carlo thought the gentle shushing he’d just been given would’ve done it alone.

He was more than happy to keep quiet. Opening his mouth made him nauseated, if his new keeper wasn’t the type to ask how he could be so fucking stupid, he wasn’t going to address it either.

“It might be in the meat of your thumb here,” Max said. “That’s just the hook doing its job, unfortunately. Hey, don’t look at it. Look at me. You’re gonna be good, we just need to get this removed safely. Maybe take you to a doctor.”

Carlo recalled the opening lines of a poem from some dusty anthology in his old home with perfect clarity, clearer than the red trees or blue sky. What a thrill— My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone.

“Can you just do it? With your knife?”

Max blinked at him. The river was on their left, and for a moment Carlo thought maybe he hadn’t heard him over the sound of the water running over the rocks in the shallows.

“No,” he said after a strange beat of silence, looking back down at his task. He’d heard perfectly fine. “Hands are delicate, I don’t need to be digging around near tendons. You want to be able to use it after, right?”

That last was meant to be lighthearted, but Carlo caught the moment of disbelief on Max’s face when he’d asked him to do it himself. The request translated to an unmistakable display of trust.

Now that he knew Max had heard his plea for what it was, he was embarrassed for showing his cards like that. Like an animal bearing its neck.

“I don’t want to go to an emergency room,” he said quietly. A fact, not a request. He had plenty of practice in quietly exerting his own wishes without sounding demanding, spoiled, or insolent. Keith picked up on any of those attitudes immediately, and he always paid for it. Erik had more patience for it, on account of the affection he had for him. He might be annoyed by perceived insolence one day and mildly amused by it the next. Of course, Keith would’ve punished him for this kind of mistake by squeezing his hand with the hook in it, or letting the men yank him around with a line attached to it as a joke on their break.

“Mr Holstrom always had a doctor visit me at the house.”

Max was still studying the angle of the hook. He made as if to touch a part of it and hesitated. “Shit,” he muttered. “I have bait and god-knows-what all over my hands.”

“He always called a doctor to the house…” he continued, concerned that Max didn’t know about the lax protocols of pet treatment in US hospitals. “I can’t go to the regular ER.”

“Anyone can go to the ER,” Max replied, distracted. “I don’t have pet insurance, but they’ll just bill me.”

“No, it’s…” he felt tears of frustration prick the backs of his eyes.

Max lifted his head. “It’s what?” he asked, attentive now.

“It’s not a good place for me.”

He could tell Max was skeptical. Did he really not know the way of the world? Erik said most people don’t realize, or don’t want to. Many of us don’t like to dwell on problems we can’t fix in an hour, he said. It’s not our nature.

“Well, I think I can get this out for you anyway. But it has to stay clean. Don’t touch it. First aid kit is in the truck. Can you walk with me, or do you want me to go get it?”

He insisted he could walk. When they finally got back to the truck, Max insisted on lifting him up to the open tailgate and set his first aid kit beside him. On the side of the dirt access road, he put on a pair of latex gloves before gently probing the eye of the hook. Carlo winced and looked over his left shoulder at the line of birch and pine trees. Visualizing the hook moving under his skin made him feel lightheaded all over again.

“I know it’s going to hurt regardless, but tell me if it’s too much.”

“Okay,” he breathed, and took a deep breath through his nose to keep the dizziness at bay.

“It’s not as deep as I initially thought, it’s just a weird angle.”

He whimpered as Max slowly dragged the straight end of the metal out, along his skin, until the hooked part caught and Carlo flinched.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said in that hushing tone Carlo was beginning to listen for like a key in the door.

One gloved finger held the base of the hook in place as he searched something on his cellphone with the other hand.

“Hang tight. There’s a trick for this, I just can’t remember exactly how it goes.”

Soon he was looping a piece of fishing line around the curve of the hook, right where it went into his skin, like threading a needle.

“I’m going to coax it out at an angle so I don’t cause any more damage. I’ll push on this side and pull the line at the same time, and it will come out the same angle it went in.”

The pain doubled when Max pulled the fishing line, and he could feel a warm trickle of blood oozing from the site. He bit the inside of his cheek, and in a moment felt the sudden, blissful absence of the hook.

Max applied pressure to the bleeding. “Move your thumb for me? Good. Just checking.”

Whatever he put on the wound when he lifted the gauze stung fiercely, but that sort of pain was far preferable to the nauseating feeling of metal moving under his skin.

“Need to keep a close eye on it for infection.”

Carlo watched him place a bandage and tape it down. He liked the sound of Max’s voice, and watching his hands as he worked. Usually this was on something other than him, and Max had rarely stood so close to him for any reason.

“I’m sorry,” Carlo said, just to cover his bases.

“Don’t be. It happens.”

“Thank you. For taking it out.”

Max began packing up the first aid box. “‘Course.”

“We can go back out now…” he offered, still cringing at the thought of derailing the weekend activities.

Max smiled knowingly as he latched the kit shut. “We can also go home.” He took his time choosing his next words, and Carlo’s anxiety doubled with every second that passed in silence. He deserved a reprimand, but it would still sting from someone he’d been trying so hard to please these last few weeks.

“You’re a little too good at being a pet, you know that? You’ve got experience at this. I don’t. You should take advantage of that. I’m like the substitute teacher you can convince there wasn’t any homework.”

Carlo looked away, down at the offending fish hook on the tailgate of the truck. It was wet with his blood.

“I’m teasing, Carlo. I’m sorry. I just mean… you don’t have to try so hard. I know this is all really strange for you, probably even more than it is for me, but you’re doing fine. I’m not gonna make you go sit by the river all day with a hurt hand when home is a half hour away. That’s not.. normal. I know it’s hard, but just… just roll with it, okay? I’ll never try to test you, or trick you. I mean what I say. If I need you to do something or behave a certain way… I’ll just tell you.”

He nodded, both chastised and relieved. “I’m trying,” he said, hoping it sounded more like willingness to collaborate than defensiveness.

“I know.” Max put a brief hand on his knee and Carlo resisted the urge to lean forward and put his forehead on his chest. “I’m just going for clarity between you and me. That’s all. Come on. Careful.” He offered his arm to help him jump down from the tailgate. “Let’s go home.”

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

When I find myself in times of trouble, South Park comes to me, speaking words of wisdom,

Whump the boys.

[writereleaserepeat]

Just watched one of the whumpiest films of all time, 2099: The Soldier Protocol.

A parapalegic prisoner is entered (read: coerced) into an experimental program under dubious circumstances. He's experimented on (including mild lab whump) and tortured repeatedly to turn him into a ruthless living weapon. As he gets stronger and more lethal, one of the scientists overseeing the program (and directing his torture) starts to feel the more-than-dubious ethical issues getting under her skin.

Is it a good movie? I wouldn't say that. Is it a whumpy movie? Absolutely. There are enough whump tropes packed in that I would wonder if someone from the whump community wrote the script. It's low budget with some half-decent acting and LOTS and lots of whump (and overall tropes that this community enjoys).

[ratinthebins]

just so you guys know, if this is Jay you’ll all be getting endless fanfics :3

[onlyshestandsthere]

I think if I read next chapter I will break apart so I think I need take a few chapter break I'm reading so so so much angst rn

Always put your mental health first my dude. I avoid reading fics if they make me feel anxious at all so you take that break for as long as you need.

[lesiasmadness]

I CHANGED MY MIND I DON'T WANT THE LITTLE GUYS ON MY SCREEN TO BE SAD ANYMORE

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

what if we did like, whumpo

And on that note, I'm of the opinion that "whumpee" is no weirder a word than the normalized "blorbo", "scrimblo" or "scrunkly", but the non-whump community isn't ready for that point

[deepspacenova]

LESS THAN ENEMIES

1100 words || mild hurt/comfort. injured sylus. pre-relationship. minor blood.

Note: trying out something new and joining a fandom instead of obsessing in silence for once. Please accept some Sylus whump as my humblest offering xx

Sylus’ favorite thing is to watch her on the battlefield.

It started with Mephisto, of course. The mechanical corvid kept tabs on so many of Sylus’ subjects of interest that he’d thought nothing of programming the so-called “special” new Hunter’s likeness into its tracking rounds.

When he saw her evol, he became determined to take her. When he saw her bound in front of him, no recognition in her eyes, he became intrigued. But when she put a bullet through his chest point blank, no hesitation, he became captivated. Enraptured. Obsessed.

After the auction — and when Mephisto’s wing maintenance went from biweekly to twice a week — Sylus decided to spare himself the trouble and started going himself.

He doesn’t get too close, can’t get too close, but he’ll never get enough of her ferocity, her determination, her grace when he watches her fight for her people. For her cause.

Even if it’s in direct opposition to his plans.

Actually, his men could stand to learn a thing or two from her. In wit, in strategy, in combat.

The thought almost manages to pull a smile from him.

As much enjoyment as he takes in seeing her dominate the battlefield, to hear her calling out orders to other Hunters, to witness the shimmering waves of that damn evol, he can’t ignore the tension he feels when he does. The apprehension.

The worry.

Picturing her beautiful body cut down, wounded, bleeding… it isn’t something he likes to think about.

And that’s why Sylus watches the battlefield.

It’s a chaotic dance of guns and swords. Her Hunters and the rogue faction that ceded from Onychinus months ago clashing on the blood-stained streets.

The rest of the neighborhood is dark but calm, filled with the high pitched buzz of the street lamps on the periphery of N109. If he wasn’t scrutinizing her with such focus, it would’ve felt like he was heading out to join her for one of their midnight meetings.

She’s close to the building that’s casting Sylus into the shadows, her singular focus centered on the four men surrounding her. No other Hunters are nearby.

Sylus watches her weave a wave of power around two, freezing them in place, swords locked into a swinging motion. At the same time she turns around and traps a third, his arms get more frantic the higher she raises her gun before he drops like a stone to the ground.

She’ll will win this one, he muses, as the men he’d so generously chosen to oust from the organization rather than kill dwindle in numbers. Most of them are being tracked down by other Hunters, those that remain look like they might flee in a desperate attempt at self-preservation like the roaches they are.

Who knew the Hunter’s Association would become his pest control.

Sylus heightens the rush of power in his veins as one of the men takes advantage of her divided focus, shakes himself free of her power’s hold, and stumbles backwards, running toward Stylus’ alleyway in hopes of escape.

She lets him go without a care — of course she does — letting him get as far as the curbside. He gasps when he spots Sylus, taking an instinctive shot with what looks like a pilfered hunter’s gun just as Sylus unleashes his evol, let’s it hum through his veins to his temples as he snuffs the breath out of the man in front of him and the two next to her.

The bodies topple onto the dirty asphalt in perfect harmony, joining the other vermin she’d taken care of.

An outraged gaze whips toward Sylus. She’d known he was there.

Before he can wonder at what he’d done to give himself away she’s already marching toward him. Too irritated to make sure other Hunters aren’t following — they aren’t, Sylus has made sure — when she steps in front of him. That magnificent power isn’t quite contained yet, casting a glow around her that makes him want to reach out and…

He crosses his arms in case they make any movements he doesn’t approve of.

“They had information I needed, you overbearing—”

He narrows his eyes, ignoring a twinge in his bicep as he leans it against the building. “They’re your enemies, sweetie. Do you think they would’ve had the same mercy with you?”

“They might’ve,” she bites out. “Now, thanks to you, we’ll never know.”

He hardens his jaw. Her naiveté would get her hurt one day. “Trust me, they weren’t about to help you, they wanted to hurt you. To cut all your little Hunters down and take you with them.” Tendrils of his power wrap around her waist like a vine, yanking her toward him on a gasped breath, branding his chest with her palms.

“And, kitten?” She bites her lip, looking past his shoulder to ignore him, taking the comfort of that gaze from him. Growling low in his throat, he tilts her chin back up, tracing his thumb over the silky edge of her jaw. “I won’t let anyone do that.”

The frosty glare in her eyes melts, taking the last of her anger with it.

“I won’t either,” she murmurs. Stepping back, she takes her face from his grasp. “Alright, let’s get out of here. I don’t need any of the other Hunters catching you.”

Sylus sighs, turning his back to the bodies when lightning pierces through his arm, causing him to cover it up with an annoyed hiss.

“Sylus? Sylus. What’s going on? What’s happened?”

Trying to calm the frantic words that match her frantic hands, he grits out, “I’m fine. Must’ve happened right before I took care of those last three. It’s nothing.”

She’s grasping at his fingers to peel them away, revealing a decently sized chunk of flesh removed from his bleeding bicep.

It’s not the most severe wound he’s ever sustained, by far. Still, he’s mildly impressed that a Hunter’s bullet could pack such a punch. He’ll need to look into those.

“It’s not nothing, there’s no way that’s going to heal on its own. You need… stitches or something. I’m taking you to the base.” Wrapping one palm around his arm and the other around his wrist, she steers him by the arm in the opposite direction of Linkon. “And before you say anything, every Hunter goes through field medic training.”

It’s the same tone she uses with other Hunters, the sound of determination coated in the steel of care and concern.. and it’s for him.

She’s treating him like he’s… hers.

He ignores the sudden balloon expanding in his chest at the thought. “You know you never need an excuse to put your hands on me, kitten,” he drawls with a smirk, deciding to give himself into it, into her.

And despite the most serious injury he’s had in a while tearing into the space between his missing skin and her palm, all he can feel is a fluttering, healing warmth when her cheeks flush and her pace quickens.

[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

the lords in black are so interesting to me because. they’re so us. we’re watching the citizens of hatchetfield suffer for our own entertainment just as much as they are. we’re their accomplices in all of it

pokotho made hatchetfield into a musical because musicals are entertaining. and we ate that shit up! it’s soooo fun watching a little man scramble as the world around him bursts into song. the musical genre is satirized because pokey knows how the genre conventions work just as well as we do. we like watching musicals so much that black friday and npmd are musicals, too, even though they don’t revolve around pokotho’s plans as much as tgwdlm. we want them to sing. pokotho does too.

bliklotep is the audience and the audience is bliklotep. trail to oregon calls the audience “the watcher with one thousand eyes” and that’s not all, in watcher world blinky seems to be able to see through the eyes of anyone and everyone who loves spectacle. he wants to see the characters go through angst because WE love angst. it’s fun to watch alice and bill express their buried frustrations. blinky wants it to end in bloodshed because he loves tragedy, and let’s face it, so do we. it’s like that one post about how hamlet is aware of the audience and is angry that we don’t do anything to intervene because we want to see how it plays out. personally, I think blinky could have stopped the woodwards if he really wanted (he’s an elder god, after all) but alice shooting him shifted the narrative so that the emotional payoff would be more fulfilling if they escaped. and blinky loves a good story.

t’noy karaxis has blorbos. we joke about it, but that’s really what it is, isn’t it? he’s the fan who watches the movie again and again and again and again to see his favorite character’s dramatic death scene. he’s the guy who writes and reads angst fics by the hundreds because he likes to see his faves cry. he’s the hatchetfield enjoyer who’s on the edge of their seat waiting to see how ted kicks the bucket this time. the bastard’s box is pretty much just an ao3 account filled with whump and hurt no comfort. he’s sadistic AND he genuinely adores ted, because we fans are often cruelest to the characters we love the most. he puts ted through character growth— the realization that his life went the way it did because of his own mistakes, his inability to be vulnerable with jenny before it was too late— and he does that by writing a 56-chapter angst fic that’s still updating to this day

nibblenephim is the fan who voraciously devours every scrap of content that a creator produces and demands more, more, more. let’s face it, the fandom will never let starkid rest until we see this story through to its end. and then someone will demand a sequel series. nibbly is hungry because we will never stop yearning for more stories. he’s simple because that desire itself is simple— as humans, we need creativity like we need air to breathe. nibbly wants more because we want more. and we will never be satiated.

wiggog y’rath is the ruler and the king because he’s the self-inserting writer. I think jon matteson plays paul *and* wiggly for a reason— wiggly is the only lord in black to be played by the same actor in every single show, and that actor also plays the protagonist of tgwdlm. wiggly wants to be the protagonist. he tries to force himself into the human world of hatchetfield because he wants to participate, dammit! he wants to be the bestest ruler that the earth has ever seen! everyone has to love him because he’s going to be their bestest fwiend! when he appears in human form he’s gonna be the prom king! he’s the ebony dark’ness dementia raven way of the hatchetfield multiverse. he wants every human character to bend to his whims and to love him and to put him at the tippy-top of planet earth because he’s the writer and the writer’s main character, you fuckheads, and he can make whatever story he wants, whether the other characters like it or not! if you’ve ever written a self-insert story? congratulations! you’ve been wiggog y’rath.

and the funny thing? I don’t think the lords know that they, too, are as fictional as anyone else in hatchetfield. maybe blinky knows— he sees through the audience’s eyes, after all— but I don’t think the others do. if they did, maybe they’d be a little less tyrannical. a little bit nicer.

but then the starkid writers wouldn’t have much of a story to tell, would they?

[feveruary]

Introductions and FAQ

Well hello! This is @sombersapphic and @goldenempyrean, separately we have sickfic blogs that have been running for 1.5 years and 2 respectively. We created Feveruary as a fun little event for other sickfic/whump writers to enjoy and share their writing. We are both volunteers and hope this will be as enjoyable for you as it was for us to create!

Overall Explanation aka, what is it?

Feveruary is our little event that runs through February, with one prompt for each day. We will have a total of 32 prompts which includes the main 28 and 4 alternatives. You can view this as a challenge to write all 28, you can pick and choose, you can save prompts for later, you can do pretty much whatever you want! After all, this is supposed to be fun!

Who can participate?

Everyone! Dont write? Draw something! Get creative :D

Is this an SFW event?

Yes considering we want this to be open to everyone we have decided to make it a SWF event. This brings us to some...

Rules: 

No sexually explicit material

No non-con, pedophilia, incest 

No DV or other negative power imbalance relationships. This is centered around hurt/comfort, not pure whump.

What if I want it to be NSFW?

Detach yourself. We cannot stop you from using these prompts as inspiration but if you are choosing to break these rules do not align yourself with our event.

How do I tag?

To tag your works as a part of the event use the tags: #Feveruary and #Feveruary 2025. As well as these please use appropriate tags and content warnings on your fics, we want this to be a safe and fun event for everyone. 

Can I Write On Ao3?

Of course! The same tags apply however they'll also be an open collection which you can add your post too!

When will the prompts be released?

We plan to release the prompts in mid October which will give everyone 3.5 months to start writing!

What if I have more questions?

Your best bet will be to send us an ask! If it's something you’re uncomfortable with other people reading (anon asks are on) or you simply don’t want to wait for an ask to be answered you will have to message either @somber-sapphic or @goldenempyrean directly. Since this is a group blog we are unable to receive PMs but if you have questions don’t hesitate to ask! There is no such thing as a dumb question.

Just double checking, I don't have to write them all?

Of course not! You can do as many or as few prompts as you want, if it stops being fun you don't have to continue!

[voidpidgeon]

My drawings for @dreblr-gen-big-bang, I was working together with @x-i-l-verify, and you can check out her fic here! Perfect for all whump enjoyers ;)

In a timeline where players are not whitelisted to the Dream SMP until they reach the age of majority, there is no drug van, no L'Manberg, no Doomsday, no Disc Finale, and no Pandora's Vault. However, in the aftermath of Sapnap's latest bout of troublemaking, the Egg awakens and establishes its empire, and despite the server's admin debugging the virus down to bedrock, the Dream SMP now has a brand-new public enemy number one.

(or: Due to one simple rule change at the Dream SMP's creation, BadBoyHalo is now the reviled and distrusted villain of the server instead of Dream.)

[feroluce]

So I've already seen this one pointed out, but in the new CG, Boothill's older human form doesn't really match what people thought it should. Of course it could just be neglect on Hoyo's part like I've seen speculated, but personally? With the other lore we got from this patch, combined with some of the stuff we already had, I'd love to think there is a possibility that is way, WAY more fun.

(fun for me and all the other whump enjoyers, anyway, RIP Boothill fjkasjkdj)

In Boothill's lc, we see him in the middle of his surgery where he threw away his flesh and bone body for steel and cybernetics. We know it was The Big Surgery and not just like some sort of tune up or modification because of the description attached to the lc:

Which is where a lot of the dissonance comes in, because in this lc, Boothill's hair is much, much longer than in the cg.

And as someone who also has super long hair, I can tell you that it would take like. Multiple years to grow it out to this length.

There's also the fact that these cybernetic arms don't even match, the lc is the one that looks like our Boothill does now. And there's no reason for Boothill's shirt to be ripped up and in tatters like that; it even states he takes off his clothes before the lc surgery. If it were a matter of Hoyo needing to censor nudity, there were plenty of other methods they could have used that would make more sense, like a hospital gown, a blanket, surgical partition, etc

When will I get to see Boothill with all his scars, Hoyo, when, quit cockblocking me!!! OTL

But there was also another piece of new lore this patch that hit me like a fuckin' brick- the fact that Boothill was tortured by the IPC.

He just drops this out of nowhere! Just says it and then moves right along!! BABY, PLEASE. I WANNA KNOW MORE SO GODDAMN BAD.

But anyway as Hydrachea pointed out to me, this means the torture definitely had to happen before the lc surgery, because being whipped with a belt soaked in saltwater (fucking OUCH) wouldn't work on someone with metal skin.

So, we know that the IPC did, at some point, capture Boothill. And this is reaching further back to previous patches, but we also know from the Luminary Wardance event in 2.5 that the IPC also dabbles in cybernetic arms, because of the one they foisted on Luka.

The model there is a new one they're debuting, but we see in a flashback sequence that the IPC has been part of the cybernetics game for at least 700-800 years, because they also manipulated Igor into getting one too, and this could have only happened before the Eternal Freeze on Jarilo-VI.

It's never stated just how old Boothill is, or how long ago the genocide on Aeragan-Epharshel took place.

But I doubt it was more than 700-800 years ago.

I really don't think Boothill is that old, or has been doing this for that long. So he definitely would have been captured at a point that the IPC was manufacturing cybernetic arms, and had a known history of amputating perfectly healthy patients to use them.

I wonder if all their test subjects were willing.

(This part is entirely unnecessary for the new cg showing Boothill being a forced lab rat as part of the IPC torturing him. But it is a fun, delightful, bloodily gruesome twist of the knife nonetheless.

Boothill was also betrayed by his own brothers-in-arms on Aeragan-Epharshel. For the IPC. Just saying.)

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

why does it comfort some people or bring them joy/excitement to imagine their favorite characters in terrible situations and being hurt physically or mentally? wouldn’t you want your favorite characters to be happy and safe?

I’m sure I’ve seen this exact ask being sent to another writing blog before, so seeing one in my own inbox was a little surprising. but anyway, I’ve said this before, but I don’t mind saying it again because lots of people seem to still be confused about this; the enjoyment of imagining or seeing fictional characters in terrible situations in which they are hurt and/or scared is called whump. people who enjoy whump tend to express their interest through art, such as drawings, writings, etc. whump has a community on several online platforms, as well as here on Tumblr. we are simply known as “whump community”.

moving on to your question, “why does it comfort us to imagine our favorite characters in agony?” — there is no definitive answer to the question, because different people enjoy whump for various, different reasons, and all of these reasons are valid. however, what I can give you is some examples of the reasons why people enjoy whump

reasons why people like whump:

some people use whump as a reflection of what they’ve been through, and they let their trauma out by channeling the trauma through fictional characters. to make it as simple as I can, some people use whump as a coping mechanism to help them heal from any traumatic events in their lives.

while whump is indeed about pain, it can also be about the comfort (the healing process) that comes after the pain. I personally known several people who heal by writing whump stories in which their favorite characters went through and survived terrible things that happened to them. the comfort part of the whump was used as a symbol of hope for these people, in the sense that they hold on to the idea that if these fictional characters can survive horrible things that happened to them, they (the writers) can survive and heal too.

some people use whump as a way to let out their frustration, trauma or pain. an abuse victim may fantasize about hurting their abuser back by creating a fantasy world in which their favorite character was hurt, but later healed and/or get their revenge.

it’s also worth mentioning that one doesn’t have go through their own trauma in order to be able to enjoy whump. 

some people like whump where their favorite character is hurt because they just Want to Hurt These Little Guys. 

some people like whump where their favorite character is hurt because they like the part where their favorite character gets comforted and is nursed back to health after they are rescued.

whump that’s followed by comfort (whump with a happy ending) is valid.

whump that has no comfort (whump without a happy ending) is also valid.

because whump is a genre, just like how lots of people like horror movies just for the sake of liking them. 

the term whumperflies is used to describe the euphoric feeling a person experiences while watching, drawing, writing or reading a whump scenario that hits right in the feels. for lack of better comparison, some people experience whumperflies that come close to an orgasm, whether or not whump is a sexual thing to them (some may enjoy whump as a form of kink, while some may enjoy whump for reasons that aren’t sexual at all). for some, whumperflies are these tingling sensation in the chest and/or the stomach, for someone else, whumperflies is like when you ride a rollercoaster and the ride is going down from its highest stop. there's no wrong way to experience whumperflies, as different people describe and experience them differently.

so, yes, some people may enjoy whump just for the euphoria whumperflies bring. and some people — myself included — can’t get whumperflies unless the character that’s going through pain is their most favorite character; it’s like… because you love this character so much, you’re so connected to them, you're so emotionally invested in them that you can only get whumperflies if it’s them going through the torture, meanwhile other characters just don’t make you feel half as strongly.

and that’s explain why people in the whump community prefer their favorite characters to be the ones going through hell.

and again, just like how movies have different genres, whump is a genre — people who like whump aren’t “freaks” or “red flags” in real life, even if they like whump for reasons that aren’t about coping mechanism. whump is a genre and a form of art, and most importantly, whump is fiction. it’s not real.

I do understand why people who aren’t into whump tend to be confused by the concept of whump, and I do understand why these people think being a fan of a fictional character only means wanting said fictional character to be safe and happy, which is why whump is not for everybody, and that’s okay too.

the thing is there is no wrong way to be a fan of something that’s fictional, you can like this fictional character so much you want to see them cry and covered in blood for whatever reasons, and that’s okay. as long as you’re not hurting anybody in real life.

there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about people who enjoy whump, just like how there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about people who like horror movies. it’s fiction and it’s a form of art. and I believe everybody is allowed to express and enjoy their interests through art in whichever way they want, as long as they’re not harming anybody in real life.

[whump-obsessed-less-stressed]

Umm... hi! ?

I've been lurking around here for almost a year aand I've finally built up the courage to make my own blog?? Idek? oh wow never expected that tbh I'm surprised of myself

Name: My name is Em, Ems or Wrath, pick your poison lol

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: Umm old enough but also young??

About me: Ummm- I'm in multiple fandoms (like A TON), average whump enjoyer (maybe a bit more than that but shh), I like writing (duh), I do fencing?? (Whumpy sport??? I mean I get to stab people with swords-), I've got adhd and way too much free time! Chronically online. Book & fanfic addict

Whump: I've always enjoyed whump since I was a little kid but I was always veery much embarassed because I thought it was wrong ("Oh yes let's play doctor but you're actually an evil psycho who wants to do experiments on me" "..........." "WHAT THE-"). Then I found that there's people like me in here! Love me some whumper friends.

TROPES/WHUMPY STUFF I ENJOY YAY:

Lady whump

Used as a bait

Pet whump

Bound/gagged

Lab rat whump

Magic whump

RESTRAINTS!!!!

Betrayal whump

ENVIRONMENTAL WHUMP

MAGIC!! Eg. Supernatural whumpees/whumpers etc.

Probably a ton more but those are the most important ones?

Blogs: So, my fav blogs are @painsandconfusion @whumpninja @whumblr @whump-is-love-whump-is-life @whumpshaped @whumperofworlds @jump-in-the-whump @jordanstrophe aand many other ones though--

Might make a post about my whumpees/whumpers/caretakers and WIPS later?

[blairdii]

People have said the same disgusting things about Carlos and supposed fans of his seemingly like to see him suffer because they think he looks beautiful when he’s sad or unhappy. I remember one anon who said she’s torn as his fan because she wants him to do well, but she also finds him narratively compelling when he’s suffering. Excuse me? He’s a real person, not a paper doll to rpf with. I actually sent in an anon saying it was disgraceful that people are actively enjoying someone else’s real life unhappiness for the sake of “narrative.” The blog owner gave a snarky response telling me, “have you seen how popular the whump tag on ao3 is? Lots of people enjoy this.”

there's nothing i hate more than when they use the stupid excuse of 'a lot of people like it', as if something being popular makes it automatically acceptable?

they are genuinely sadistic, i don't even care if they find it offensive because i'm being truthful. i get that rpf is fiction, but leave it as that. don't start dragging real life issues into it, and genuinely start wanting them to be miserable all for the sake of your fanfic satisfaction/inspiration. i love angst to heaven and back, don't get me wrong, but i know there are boundaries and limits; angst as a fictional genre is what i love most, but i never extend that enjoyment to the wellbeing of real people.

i realised this most during the aftermath of the brazil gp; so many people were writing norstappen (some were really good and respectful and others... spoke for themselves) but i just couldn't because i know how bad lando was having it, and i wasn't comfortable indulging to that extent.