#whump explanation

[skittles-the-whumpee]

Hey, I’ve only been on the kink side of tumblr fir a couple years and you followed me a while ago, but I’m curious, what is “whump” is it like a fandom thing, if it is which fandom? is it some transgender terminology that I’m not aware of? I’m not judging I’m just genuinely curious cuz several whump accounts follow me and i juts wanted to know what it is, thanks for reading have a good day💕

Hi! ^^

Ok, so...I have only been in the whump community for a relatively short period and there are people who can explain it better, but the below is my personal take on the subject.

Whump isn't a fandom in of itself, it's a concept that can be added to any fandom. It's the concept of hurt/comfort and usually leans heavily on the hurt side of things. It also demonstrates a few different dynamics that can be SFW or NSFW.

An interrogation scene in a movie. Whump.

Reading about a vampire having their sadistic fun in a novel. Whump.

A prisoner in a comic book getting a beatdown. Whump.

But on the flipside...

A patient recovering in X hospital show. Whump.

A human pet escaping captivity and discovering the perks of freedom in a manga. Whump.

Someone getting their friend out of an abusive relationship and getting them into therapy in a fanfic. Whump

Whump dynamics include:

Whumper (offender) x whumpee (victim) [this dynamic is the most common]

Caretaker (self-explanatory) x whumpee

Whumper x caretaker

(Just a few)

There's also tropes like whumper-turned-whumpee or whumpee-turned-whumper or caretaker-turned-whumpee or even bad caretaker, for example.

Whump is an infinitely growing concept and literally anyone can add to it. ^^

This might not be the best explanation but it's what I've got lol.

If anyone else in the whump community sees this, reblog it with anything you wanna add. ❤️

[citrine-elephant]

welp... not the worst thing he's been through this week. maybe the weirdest. damn bad guys are getting crazier by the day.

bonus below:

couldn't decide which one i liked more lol

[ccieatchildren]

A Dance, Darling?

TW: Noncon Kissing, Implied Kidnapping, Almost Panic Attack, Intimate Whumper, Forced Relationship

Whumpee brought their fingers up to rest on the rubies encircling their neck. It was not as extravagant as they had expected from him, but it was still hefty enough to feel each individual jewel press into their flesh, a constant reminder on their skin.

Leaving the necklace alone, disturbed by what it represented, their eyes travelled up to their face in the mirror. Their makeup was all red. Lipstick, eyeliner, eyeshadow, each a dark shade that could only be accomplished by Whumper mixing some of their own blood into the cosmetics. They shuddered at the memory of the experience.

Whumpee groaned as he made another cut on their back, pressing the clear vial under the opening. The blood prickled their skin as it made its path down into the small jar.

Whumper brushed his lips against their neck, “we have to make sure you look your best.” He pressed on each side of the wound, drawing out more of the scarlet substance. The flow of red now rushed into the container. 

They sobbed, while Whumper watched in fascination.

Underneath the bandages, their spine pulsated at the memory, and they could feel the beginning barbs of phantom pain. Whumpee shook their head, freeing themself from the thought. 

Moving along, their gaze moved further up to their hair. Whumper had asked– told– them to put the small red jewel feathers he gave them in between the locks. In any other situation, Whumpee quite enjoyed the look of them in their hair, it was as if their hair was a flower sporting red leaves, but here, their image was immediately soured by who gave them to them.

They frowned. Another chain.

Their hands moved down to follow the curve of their dress. It was a deep crimson, matching their makeup and jewellery, and flowed down to their ankles. A hole was cut out at their chest, causing Whumpee to scrunch up their nose in distaste. It was shoulderless with a high slit on their right side, showing off their leg and the scars that adorned it. 

Whumpee hated it.

They were not very used to wearing dresses in the first place. They would thought it beautiful on someone else, but it felt foreign on their own skin. It complemented their figure too well, emphasizing their chest, hips, and waist in a way that made them feel like a piece of meat on display. The slit showed much more skin than they were comfortable with and Whumpee was paranoid that they would accidentally flash someone. They kept tugging the fabric down, but there was nothing more for it to do. Whumper’s intent with the dress was clear. Flaunt the prized lamb he bought in the auction. 

However, they would prefer the objectification over the reason he actually chose this dress for them. 

Easier access.

It made them nauseous. Their fingers itched to rip and tear the dress off themself. Strip themself of the shame and fear.

Whumpee slammed their hands onto the sink, pulling their attention away from their apprehension and resentment. In, out. In, out. In… Out… Drawing in each breath worked to ease their misgivings. A technique Whumpee relied heavily on throughout their time here. Inhaling fresh air, exhaling all theirworries. 

A few seconds and Whumpee was back to their original state. 

Not normal, not calm. But manageable. Never fully calm again.

Their eyes drooped down to the final piece tying their ensemble together, the gold band that encircled their left ring finger. Part of them enjoyed covering up the scar from his teeth, hiding how they were now permanently tied to him. The other part of them knew this was just a fancier shackle. A more obvious cuff for the public eye.

They fiddled with the ring, twisting it back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. God, they just wanted to throw it out the window and watch as it got lost to the city forever. 

They slowly pulled the bond up their finger, only thoughts of release and escape bouncing around their head.

“Do you like it?” 

Whumpee whipped their head around to see Whumper standing in the doorway. They shoved the ring back down.

He had pushed his hair back for once, the fluffy black locks smothered under a layer of gel. His suit was black, as was his tie, which were accompanied by a red vest and button up, matching their dress perfectly. He still wore the same three earrings, now pairing with their own red drops. Whumper had taken off his glasses, presumably switching them for contacts, emphasizing his dark lashes and ruby eyes.

He looked them up and down, unabashedly ogling, before finally settling on their face. “You look absolutely gorgeous, dear. Red looks nice on you.” 

“I prefer blue.”

Whumper’s lips twitched. “Are you ready? Best not to be late.” He swiftly turned around, ignoring the obvious last ditch attempt to rile him up, grabbing his keys and heading to the door. Whumpee trailed behind, already dreading the party.

————

The bright lights of the venue were the first thing to assault Whumpee’s eyes. They stepped out of the vehicle, admiring the show of excessive wealth, jumping at the slam behind them. Whumper tittered at their reaction; he had closed the car door behind them, chivalrous, as always.

Whumpee turned to glare at him, unamused. He initially looked surprised at their outward frustration toward him, before smiling once again.

Whumper offered them his elbow, red eyes boring into them, and Whumpee was quick to accept the proposal. “Off we go, my love.” Handing the keys off to the valet, he walked into the large building, practically dragging Whumpee with him.

It was an open ballroom, filled with people mingling, the low hum of talking almost overpowering the small orchestra playing music in the corner. It was decorated with an abundance of gold and white, adding to the affluent and lavish vibe. The middle of the room was open for couples who wanted to dance, the sides filled with tables holding various hors d'oeuvres and desserts. At the very end was a stage covered in balloons and banners, where the host would most likely give their toast.

Whumpee cringed at the overwhelming amount of people in the room. They had never been that much of a fan of parties, but now, their usual anxiety seemed to have increased tenfold. Their skin itched as if everyone was staring at them, checking them out, assessing their worth, finding their weaknesses. It reminded them of the tense stillness before a fight, not a party. The wounds across their back and stomach throbbed, their ever present pain intensifying, and making Whumpee even more self conscious. 

What if they could see them? What would they do then? Would they help them or find it amusing? What would Whumper do? 

This was too much. They couldn’t do this. Couldn’t pretend everything was fine. They needed to get out of here.

Panic crawled up their spine, and Whumpee slightly pulled away from Whumper, hoping to escape. But his grip was firm, and they were stuck pressed into him. Whumper’s body shook with light laughter at their alarm, peering down at them. Upon seeing their expression, however, he twitched.

Whumper pulled them even closer to him, “want to go back home, darling?” His eyes were softer than usual and his face contorted into a small frown, “do all the people frighten you?”

Whumpee nodded vigorously, pressing themself closer to him, trying to appeal to his affection for them.

Whumper placed his free hand on their cheek, and Whumpee nuzzled further into him. “Don’t worry, I’m here.” He seemed to think for a few seconds, watching them carefully, before his lips widened into a sharp smile. “As much as I would love to go back home with you,” he mockingly placed a hand over his chest, “and it truly does make me elated that you consider me your home now,” Whumpee flinched, recognizing their mistake, trying to draw back away from him, “but,” he wouldn’t let them go, “we prettied you for this. We can’t go before you meet everyone and indulge in the festivities. Can’t have it all go to waste, now can we?” He tutted at them.

Whumper continued to stare at them before they realized he wanted an answer. Whumpee slowly shook their head, accepting defeat, slumping down into themself.

Whumper patted their cheek before pulling back. “Kaip geras. Now let’s go, I already see someone I want to introduce you to.”

He pulled them along further into the room, and Whumpee took a deep breath, hoping, but failing, to prepare themself for the night to come.

————

The next hour or so was filled with Whumpee standing docilely next to Whumper, a smile plastered on their face while he spoke to everyone who came to greet him. 

It was the same thing over and over again. A name they wouldn’t remember, faces that blurred together, shallow compliments about their outfit, and, the worst of all, congratulations to the happy couple. 

Whumper keened at all the flattery, especially those of their dress and jewelry, making sure to pipe in that he was the one that purchased them for them, and, as they were expected to follow along, Whumpee thanked him for the “generous” gift from a loving fiancé. He always managed to squeeze in a kiss for the presents, tilting their head up and drawing Whumpee in whenever they expressed their gratitude. This only delighted the other guests, amused at the young couple’s public show of affection.

It was torture. 

Now Whumpee, thankfully, had finally gotten a small break from Whumper flaunting them off, standing on the sidelines and trying to drown their worries into a small flute of champagne. 

Never too far, Whumper was in the corner conversing with what they could only assume to be potential buyers, and, though he wasn’t facing them, Whumpee could still feel the ever present weight of his eyes watching them, making sure they didn’t run. As unnerving as it was, Whumpee preferred it over his stifling presence bearing down next to them. 

The hero scanned the room as their mind drifted. They could try to get help from the other people here, but Whumpee didn’t foresee much success through those routes. They recognized half the guests from files back in their old office, and those who weren’t publicly villains were most likely not much better either. 

However, even if they weren’t in the same circles as Whumper, what could Whumpee say that would convince them of their situation. Their last stunt as a hero left them humiliated and discredited; they looked crazy to the public eye. Someone who had lost their way and needed the guidance of some pristine charitable schmuck who graciously sacrificed themselves to help them. In the end, it would be their words against his, and no one would believe them. 

And on the small, small chance they did… Whumpee shivered at what Whumper would do to keep them with him, how he would take revenge for their defiance. They knew it wouldn’t just stop at them, and, as much as they despised it, the hero in them couldn’t let that happen.

As always, he had the upper hand. 

They were taken out of their musings by a gloved hand appearing in their line of sight, too deep in thought to notice Whumper had finished his conversation.

“Join me for a dance, mylimasis?” An award winning smile was plastered on his face, amusement obvious as he played the part of a perfect gentleman. Whumpee grimaced at the irony. 

Seeing no way out of it, Whumpee cautiously placed their hand in his, their trepidation bringing a small chuckle out of the man. Whumper gently brought them to the dance floor, joined by other couples who wished to sway with their partners. Whumpee brought their arms around his neck as he encircled their waist, skin crawling where he touched them. 

Whumper rocked them side to side at a slow pace, calming just by watching them. Whumpee scrutinized him, trying to understand his game; it wasn’t like him to do something so simple without an ulterior motive. 

His fingers started to tap along their waist, following the beat of the music in the background, while he continued to watch them. Whumpee stared back with the same intensity, struggling to smooth their face so they weren’t outright glaring at him. He seemed rather startled at their ‘sudden’ annoyance, eyes widening, before he sheepishly smiled at them. Their face must have slackened in confusion as he relaxed as well, returning to watching them. They continued like that, swaying in the crowd and looking at each other, for a small while. 

Finally, a blush spread across his cheeks, and Whumper quickly turned away. 

He’s like an embarrassed teen. 

They huffed slightly in disbelief, causing Whumper to turn back around at the sound. Realizing the awkwardness, he cleared his throat before asking. “Are you enjoying yourself so far?”

“Yes.”

He perked up. “Really?”

Whumpee sent him a dry look. Whumper visibly wilted and they scoffed, looking away. Seriously, again?

Letting their anger and frustration get the best of them wasn’t the smartest move, they knew that, but their proximity was putting Whumpee on edge, making them more irritable than usual. 

“You are going to have to get used to this,” Whumper said, breaking the silence. Whumpee turned back, shocked by his now blank face. “I’m tolerating your disrespect because we’re in public, and I recognize this is your first time being away from home in a long time. It makes you nervous, I understand that. But,” his fingers dug into their waist and Whumpee had to suppress a gasp, “when we’re officially wed, you’ll have to join me to these outings frequently as my wife.” He leaned down so their eyes were level, “I will not indulge this pitiful defiance of yours, then.” Whumper straightened back out, looking down at them, always able to make them feel small with just a glance. “So, I recommend you start familiarizing yourself with the appropriate behavior now.”

Fuck.

Whumpee gulped. They had screwed themself over.

Head bowed, Whumpee accepted defeat. It always ended like this, with Whumpee on their knees before Whumper, metaphorically or literally. They had no response other than to let themself be pulled every which way by Whumper.

Now pressed up against his chest, Whumper and Whumpee swayed as more and more partners made their way to the dance floor.

Leaning down once more, Whumper supplied their companion with more information. “Get ready, brangusis, it’s about to get fun.”

Noticing the crowd of couples, the small orchestra shifted into waltz, and everyone moved in sync. 

Whumper brought their clasped hands up and moved his other to their hip, brushing over an old wound. Whumpee harshly sucked in a breath before placing their hand on his shoulder. He commenced the dance, and Whumpee tried their best to keep up.

Step, slide, step, turn. 

Whumpee hyper focussed on their feet, trying to match his movements. They didn’t have much experience with ballroom dancing, having only taken a few classes as a joke with Bestie, and the one time Caretaker tried to teach them, though it hadn’t ended very well. Whumpee smiled at the memory: them and Caretaker a mess of limbs on the floor as Whumpee had slipped and doomed them both to a few more bruises across their body. They had been so out of breath from laughing when they couldn’t untangle themselves from each other. It had been a spur of the moment idea, some stupid thing meant to bring them closer together. It worked.

“Something funny?” 

Whumpee broke out of their reverie, not even realizing they had zoned out. Whumper’s mouth was a hard line, displeasure at not being the center of their attention apparent. 

It irked them how needy he always was. Kidnapping, experimenting, torturing, and assaulting them wasn’t enough?

They mumbled a quiet apology, peeking up at him through their lashes. It worked and Whumper eased with a blush. 

The musicians kept a steady adagio tempo, giving any more couples who wanted to join an extra moment. Whumpee slowly acclimated to the rhythm, matching Whumper’s moments not long after. 

“You were always a quick learner,” he laughed. Whumpee grimaced. 

As they danced, he squeezed and kneaded along their side, curious of their reactions. His fingers pressed into an old bruise and Whumpee staggered. He kept them balanced, yet began a game of finding where else he could push to get a pained response.

They tried to pull away from the pokes and prods, tottering with each failed attempt. They whined when he reached a fresh stitched gash. Whumpee could feel the meager string split under his pressure, spilling blood that wouldn’t be noticed under the crimson of their dress. 

Whumpee startled when their dance faltered for a moment, for once not because of them. They peered up at Whumper, surprised to find dilated eyes trained on their throat. 

“Don’t do that.” He ground out. 

Ah.

Whumpee was more than happy to obey. That train of thought would lead nowhere good for them. 

Screaming in pain would also most likely not bode well with the other guests. Whumpee sighed, nodding and gritting their teeth through his subtle exploration. Their head throbbed. 

The music picked up, pushing them to move even faster. Whumpee already felt dizzy from the quick paced movement, and Whumper’s tight hold over their still healing cuts was not helping. “Smile, love. People are watching.” He purred.

Heeding his warning, Whumpee stretched their mouth into some semblance of a smile, lips twitching from the strain, and kept dancing. Whumper relaxed his grip slightly, pleased with their obedience. 

Step, slide, step, turn.

Just as they were getting used to pushing the pain down to the rhythm, Whumper let go of their waist, spinning them. Whumpee stumbled, but he kept them moving, pulling them back in after they completed a turn. He seamlessly continued their dance, not giving Whumpee a break to get their bearings, delighting in their increasing disorientation. 

Step, slide, step, turn.

He continued to spin Whumpee every few steps, quietly laughing at their mounting nausea. However, each time their expression began to display their discomfort, Whumper would lean down to mutter a reminder of what would happen if they didn’t keep up the facade. His own twisted form of encouragement. 

“I don’t like to share, sweetheart. Those expressions are only for me.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Many guests are watching us love, don’t disappoint them with your sour countenance. I don’t want them gossiping about how I have an unruly wife.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“You look marvellous when you spin. My pretty little thing. Keep going.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Your dress makes me want to add more red. How about the blood of everyone here, ęh? Do we want to see?”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Don’t fall. I’ll get jealous. And we will have to fix that by adding bruises of my own.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

Vomit slithered up their throat. Their eyes burned with the effort to keep it down, despite the writhing of their stomach and the taste of maggots in their mouth.

A particularly fast whirl caused Whumpee to lose their footing, almost bringing them both to the floor. Whumper was quick enough to avoid disaster, but it put them out of sync with the music for several beats. 

“Watch it, Whumpee. You will not ruin this for me.” He said harshly. “Keep slipping and I’ll snip your legs.”

The again didn’t need to be said. 

But, Whumpee was trying their best, except every movement only exacerbated their aches and exhaustion. Their breathing became laboured and their limbs felt heavy, their beaten body unable to keep up with the overexertion. 

They wanted to tap out now. 

Whumpee tried to pull away, releasing his shoulder and stepping out of his grasp, only for his grip on their other hand to constrict. Whumper drew them back in, gracefully spinning them as he did so, and pulling them up against his chest in a flourish. They gasped as he once again agitated their wounds.

“Where are you going zuikutis? We’re not done yet.” He pinned them even closer to him, leaning down to whisper in their ear. “I can hear your heart hammering. Does our dancing make you that excited?” Whumpee tried to pull away, but their efforts were fruitless. Their body was drained and Whumper was holding them too tight. 

They were about to slump against him, give in and let Whumper sway them on the floor, accept whatever punishment he saw fit, but before they could fully relax, he pulled back, placing their arms once again in the position for a waltz. His expression was harsh, “I said we weren’t done yet, mielasis.” Whumpee flinched, eyes shifting to the people outside the dance floor, but he started to move them once more.

Whirling and pulling. Twisting and pulling. Spinning and pulling. Pulling. Pulling. Pulling.

They can’t keep up.

The music seemed to intensify with their panic. Whumpee could hear their pulse pounding in their ears. The sound of their harsh breathing contrasted with Whumper’s controlled ones. The voices at the edge of the room grew. Tapping of shoes on the pristine floor echoed in their head.

Each sound pushed against their skull, battling one another for space in their mind. Whumpee began to wobble more, unsteady feet tripping their partner. Hands clawing at whatever they held. Chest tightening. Vision blurring. Throat closing. Tired. Hot. Dizzy. 

Let go. Let go. Let go. Let go. Let go. LET GO-

“Breathe, it’s over.”

A hand rubbed soothing circles along their back. Whumpee blinked rapidly, vision and mind slightly clearing. They found themself leaned down, hovering over the floor.

The song had finished. Whumper had dipped them. 

The crowd around them released small whoops and cheers for all the dancers, surrounding the couple with the sharp clap of applause. Whumpee tensed. Whumper hurried to calm them.

“Ramiai, ramiai vargšas.” He slowly pulled them back to their feet. “I see I got carried away. This was too much for you.” Whumper told them softly. “We’ll work on it.”

Whumpee couldn’t process what he was saying, too busy trying to return to the world around them. They were pliant as he led them off the dance floor.

They spent the next few minutes leaning into Whumper as they calmed themself down. If they could think clearly, Whumpee would have pulled away from him long ago, but they simply did not have the mental capacity for hatred or fear right now.

After they reached a more coherent state, he spoke. “I’m going out for a smoke.” Whumpee was still breathless from their dancing, barely able to catch up to what he was telling them. “You don’t have to join me, I know how much you hate it. But,” Whumpee suddenly grabbed their arm, throwing them off balance once more.

“Stay here.” They didn’t think they could anywhere if they wanted to, they were too light headed from dancing. That was probably the point. “I’ll be back in 10 minutes.” 

Whumper examined them a final time, before nodding to himself. He steered Whumpee to a corner, despite their, almost drunken, stumbling. Then, they were on their own. 

They felt the need to cry, the tears pressing against the back of their eyes, but they- they just- it wasn’t working. They couldn’t. Not here. They just needed to focus on their breathing. 

They leaned against the wall, thankful for its cool surface, hoping to steady themself. 

In… Out… 

In… Out…

In… Out… 

Rhythmic breathing slowed their racing heart. Air stopping its fight in their lungs. Muscles no longer protesting as loudly. Whumpee’s body finally calmed from the stress of his waltz. 

They took a few more moments to themself, forehead pressed firmly against the plaster. Just breathing. Mind emptying. Preparing for a few more hours of struggle.

They could do this. 

“Whumpee.” A hand landed on their shoulder, warm and familiar. They jolted, spinning around. They froze once their gaze landed on Caretaker.

Her dress, a fitted corset around her middle that flowed out into a long skirt, was a striking cerulean color that complimented her eyes. There was a large collar that covered from her neck to her shoulder, decorated with sapphires, holding a sheer cape that flowed down to trail behind her. Her makeup used only various shades of blue, highlighting her dark skin. 

They felt their eyes water faintly at the sight of such a familiar face. It had been too long.

“C-Caretaker!” Whumpee cringed at their own voice, simultaneously too rough and too bright. “Wh-what a surprise. It’s been a while.” Whumpee tried to keep their cool. They couldn’t drag her into this, they wouldn’t, no matter how much they might want to.

A whirlwind of emotions flashed through Caretaker’s eyes, too quick for Whumpee to tell what she was feeling, before hardening, anger and determination shining through. “Where were you! I- We kept looking for weeks.” Her gaze saddened slightly, “I- I thought something had happened to you. When you didn’t answer after you went in… I was worried, and then the incident-”

“Well!” Whumpee clapped their hands together, effectively cutting off the woman. “As you can see I’m fine. Didn’t they tell you where I was? My comm broke, nothin’ serious.” They told her carefully. “And, you know I had that vacation lined up,” their lips stretched into a shaky smile. “That’s all. Nothing to get so worked up about!” They laughed. Whumpee hoped their expression was convincing enough.

“But-”

Whumpee sighed. “Look, I know I never reached out-”

“What- Never reached out! I sent you so many messages, you missed all my calls.” That was because Whumper had taken their phone. “You never miss my calls.” Whumpee stiffened. That was very true. They made sure to never miss a call from her again. “Then one day you just told me to stop contacting you completely!” They hadn’t known about that, though Whumpee wasn’t very surprised. 

Caretaker averted her gaze. “D-did I do something wrong? I would’ve left you alone if you had just told me what really happened.” She grabbed Whumpee’s hands. “I just- I-…” The woman paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “You’re someone I care deeply about, I thought we were close. I-I needed to make sure you were okay… I’m sorry.” Her body slumped, the rage and conviction seeping out, dropping Whumpee’s hands. All that was left was a tired, worried friend.

As they watched their partner deflate, Whumpee realized something. Here she was, one of the few people willing to look for them, and all Whumpee could do was brush them off. As much as they hated it, however, they were firm in their belief; they would not rope Caretaker into this. It was not safe. They had faith in her ability as a hero, but Whumpee had seen, had experienced, what Whumper could do first hand, and they would not take the risk. They would never forgive themself if something happened to her.

But they would not leave Caretaker with nothing either. 

Whumpee bent down, hoping to console their companion. “No, Caretaker, I-”

“You never introduced me to your lovely acquaintance here, dear.” Whumpee bolted back up, putting as much distance between the two of them as they could. The man now next to them, leaned down, extending a hand to Caretaker while the other wrapped around their waist. “Whumper. Whumpee’s fiance .”

Caretaker’s eyes widened in shock, recognition flashing, before she smoothed her expression out into a smile. “I see! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Caretaker, Whumpee’s friend, their partner.” She took his hand, squeezing tightly. They silently stared off at each other, before Whumper drew his hand back and straightened. “Y’know, Whumpee never mentioned they were dating anyone.” The accusation was clear in her tone.

Whumper’s fingers twitched. “Well, we wanted to keep our relationship a secret. Taking the time to tell everyone would be a hassle if we weren’t sure. And you know how annoying those pesky reporters can be.” The arm around their hips tightened slightly, a warning. “Right, Whumpee?”

Whumpee straightened, trying to school their face into that of a happily engaged person. “Y-Yes- yes, of course. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. A-as you can see,” they waved in his direction, “this was also part of why I took that time off.”

Don’t ask more. Do not ask more. Please.

“Huh… Then, when you set the wedding date do tell me Whumpee. I would love to come.” 

Whumper twitched again, his eyes darkening. “When we do, I’ll be sure you are the first one to know.” He shifted, turning slightly, planning to drag Whumpee off with him. “Now, there are-”

“Oh!” She grabbed Whumpee’s arm to stop them. Whumper glared at the offending limb, and Whumpee could practically see the violence run through his brain. “One more thing,” Caretaker’s smile became strained and her eyes narrowed. “Whumpee, when do you plan on getting back to work? I know you said you were taking a vacation, a very important one at that, but all vacations end, right? You’re very important to the agency, and the boss is starting to get worried. You’ll have to come back soon, you know how they get-” 

Whumper cut in, pulling them out of her grasp, not giving Whumpee a chance to speak, composure slipping. “No.” He glared down at Caretaker, who stiffened and glared back in response, fists at her sides. Whumper cleared his throat. “Now if you’ll excuse us, there are more introductions Whumpee and I must make. Come along, darling.” 

Whumper bent down, cupping Whumpee’s face and smashing their lips together. Instinctively, their hands went up to rest on his chest, neither pushing away nor pulling closer. The acrid tang of smoke invaded their nostrils and the sour taste of tobacco stuck to their tongue. Their eyes scrunched close, they didn’t want to do this in front of Caretaker. Whumper felt their resistance, tightening his arm painfully until they finally kissed back, instead wrapping their arms around his neck. 

Just sell it.

Whumpee felt Whumper instantly soften at their touch, as always, relaxing into the kiss. He kept them there together for another few seconds before they broke for air. 

When they turned to look at Caretaker, her face was filled with horror. Her arms were limp at her sides and she gawked at them with dread. Whumper smirked, a cat who got his cream, before turning and taking Whumpee along with him, the arm around their middle again a vice. 

While they walked away, Whumpee turned their head one last time to look at Caretaker, silently pleading that she didn’t pry even further. Caretaker nodded, hands once again fists, with determination in her eyes. 

Whumpee didn’t think that Caretaker understood what they were asking her to do. 

This wouldn’t end well.

[tormentum-ab-intra]

little sketch of Dahara but he's a cat :)

sometimes you just have to draw your oc as a weird little cat and that'll cure you

[cepheusgalaxy]

Thinking about power balances/imbalances and how younger people are supposed to comform to older people and older people are the ones supposed to be responsible

So I give you, Younger Caretaker who is more experienced and Older Whumpee who has less experience and is less able to do things At All and is all like "i should be doing this for you", to which Caretaker replies, "I'm literally the most fit for this job, just do as I say and let me do it"

[mzminola]

Okay chewing on this, two AU ideas:

One: Jason is getting help from Talia (or doing a favor for her) while Deathstroke is doing whatever the hell it is he did to Cass, and Jason comes across this. Jason objects to brainwashing people, and besides, that's the Batgirl he has like zero beef with because Why Would He (Yet), so he intervenes.

Deathstroke regenerates and Jason has Cosmic Punch Won't Let Him Stay Dead Mystical Bullshit, so this gets very messy very fast. Unclear how Cass's No Kill policy plays out against an opponent who regenerates, but considering what she's done to people who don't, and her, uh, everything with her mom, there's a lot of potential for Slade to rapidly come to regret his choices.

Two: during Jason's World Tour of Crime Skills, Talia sent him off to David Cain for some hand to hand combat training. This is instantly apparent to Cass the first time she sees him fight (regardless of circumstances) and Cass has some Feelings about this.

Bonus angst points: the first time Cass sees Jason fight is after her brother kills her, and he moved the same way.

[whump-in-the-closet]

i dont wanna block u cuz ur cool but u aslo post fucked up stuff so would you agree to tag them? just a suggestion.

hey yeah i definitely can. thanks for the heads up. i used to be pretty good at tagging but i’ve kind of fallen off that track recently and i’m sorry about that. Going forward i’ll tag my stuff with cws.

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant drabble

No. 5: SUNBURN Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

Some parallel scenes because I love putting my characters in pain. One of these is from when Onyx was 17 (living a happy life) and the other one was when he was 19 (a servant). He remembers one of these events and unfortunately it is not the cute happy one.

masterlist

content warnings: sunburns, idk honestly this is pretty light but let me know if I forgot anything

“Your shoulders look pretty red, Onyx,” Ethan said.

I twisted around, trying uselessly to look at my back. “Really? Again?”

“Did you not use sunscreen? I reminded you to, like, a gazillion times.”

I laughed, giving up and sitting back down. “You reminded me like… twice, maybe. I kept forgetting. Ask Ember if they've got aloe vera.”

“No need, I know where it is.” Ethan left the room, probably digging around in the bathroom. “It might be expired,” he yelled loud enough for me to hear him.

“I don't care, E. It doesn't even hurt that bad, honestly.”

He snorted with disbelief, rubbing some of the gel onto my shoulders. “You really should be more careful about this, sweetheart. You're going to get skin cancer or something.”

“I'll be fine.” I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes. “I'm sorry. I thought my wings would protect my back better.”

“You would think that,” he sighed. “Whatever. Now that we're back from the beach, it's ice cream time. Come on.”

~

“How the fuck did you manage to get a sunburn?” the prince asked. “We were outside for, like, an hour.”

“I'm sorry, Your Highness.” We had been outside for longer than an hour, I thought, and no one had offered me sunscreen. It didn't matter, though. What mattered was that I had gotten burnt.

“I don’t think we have aloe vera.”

That was fine. Medical supplies were a privilege that had to be earned, and I didn’t have the energy to earn any tonight. “I’ll be okay, Your Highness. Thank you for the concern.”

He sighed. “Be more careful next time, Onyx. Injuries affect your productivity.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

~

taglist: @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump @risk606

[3-2-whump]

When asked about the worldbuilding that goes on in this series:

I'm not kidding, 'Eternal' has literally been in my brain since 2010, which is more than ten years ago, at this point. It has undergone many name and draft changes on and off over this time, but none of them have quite so worked out for me more than the criminal underworld/our world-adjacent AU. I tried, okay, but building your own world out of nothing is actually really hard, and much respect to you worldbuilders out there who can do it!

Me, however, I set my story in the our world-adjacent AU because it was the only AU that could get me consistently writing for my OCs and filling literally entire art sketchbooks with them for nearly a year straight.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Deals Cut, Questions Answered

Records of the Torrent Watchers: The Blood Moon Specter, Part 7

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

<- Previous

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 2100

Tag List: @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion @scaewolf

@the-ellia-west

CW: fantasy whump, captivity, deception, threats, stab wounds, bleeding out, hostage situation, swearing

A/N: Finally done! Took a bit longer than just October but I'm glad to say I didn't draw it out over several months like certain... other short stories *looks at Magician's Bait*

----------

If Damian were to rank the past day in his mental list of adventures, the investigation of the Blood Moon Specter would have to be one of the top strangest things to happen to him.

Sure, the whole business with Natali Tallis had happened a year before, where he was abducted and held in the abandoned catacombs as bait for magician Caiya Ebony. But he didn’t consider that particularly strange. Damian had at least somewhat understood what was happening then. Everything fit within the known laws of rune writing, even with Natali being one of the Stalkers, magicians who figured out how to speak runes, granting them more power.

Reese’s ability to resist the runes had confused him at first, until he’d found out about her heritage and how it negated the runes’ power. Draigo were known for their immunity to that sort of thing, and being only half-Draigo didn’t seem to dilute the ability.

But that was all logical. It all made sense to him.

What didn’t make sense to him now was the current situation.

Damian and Luc stood at the far corner of the small cell, inexplicably separated from their bodies, but not dead, either. The culprit, the woman wearing an orange, silk dress, stood at the opposite side of the unnaturally blurry cell, her frustration obvious as she tried and failed to do the same thing to Reese.

Reese, for her part, was completely oblivious as she checked Damian’s body for first a pulse, then signs of runes.

The woman cursed, her hands passing through Reese’s shoulders as if she were simply made of mist. “How?!” she demanded, batting at the younger woman as if that would accomplish anything. “How can she just… this?!”

Damian glanced at Luc, who shrugged, but didn’t provide any more explanation. In a blink, the woman stood in front of them, her hands clenched into fists as if she intended to throttle the answer out of them. Luc stepped forward slightly. “Release us,” he commanded, “and we’ll tell you what we know.”

She gritted her teeth. Behind her, Reese moved to check Luc, frown deepening. She didn’t appear overly concerned about being locked in the cell. Her knife was sheathed, but Damian had witnessed firsthand her speed and skill. Whoever opened the cell door next would be greeted with a rude welcome.

So long as they were in the physical realm, he supposed.

“You will still be trapped,” the woman finally said, composing herself. “Chained and unarmed, save for your apprentice’s knife.”

Luc tilted his head, regarding her. “I’ve been in worse binds.”

“Yes, that curse of yours Rycellus mentioned.”

“Not what I was thinking in particular, but yes. Might I know the name of my… host?”

The woman’s eyes flicked up and down, studying first him, then Damian. “I am Laiose. Tell me, how is it you survived this long? There was no record of you ever actually removing the runes.”

Luc hissed through his teeth. “What is with you people and my curse?”

Laoise smirked. “I know many things. I simply share information as I see fit. Now, how is it you survived, hmm… is it fifteen years now?”

“It’s closer to thirteen,” Luc said through gritted teeth. “And as I said before, I will only answer if you release us.”

Laoise considered this for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. “I will accept this. My answers for your return to your physical bodies. Fair trade?”

Before Luc could respond, Damian cut in. “No. We answer your question about Reese in exchange for letting us go. For the answer about Luc’s curse, you must answer a question from us.”

Luc nodded in approval as Laoise glanced back to Reese, who had settled on the ground close to the cell door, knife drawn, head tilted as if listening. The woman turned back to Luc and Damian. “These new terms are acceptable. The curse?”

Luc pulled off his jacket and undid the first button of his shirt, pulling the collar aside to reveal the bandages wrapped around his torso. “The runes are still there,” he explained, “we found a way to weaken them. I won’t bleed out. But they’ll never fully heal.”

“Fascinating. Do they affect any injuries sustained more recently?”

Luc buttoned his shirt and put his jacket back on. “Will you answer a second question for us?”

Laoise frowned, thinking. “Perhaps. But ask your first question.”

Luc looked to Damian, who already had his question ready. “How is it you are able to do this?” He gestured to himself, Luc, and the surrounding cell, blurred as if viewed through a glass fogged over from condensation. Even Reese was slightly blurred.

“Simple. I forced your spirits into the dream realm. You might call it something else here, but where I’m from, that’s what we call it.”

“Where are you from?”

She tilted her head knowingly. “A planet far from here, with different cultures, technologies, and unique abilities.” She glanced at Luc. “Do the weakened runes still affect your natural healing?”

Luc’s eyes flicked to Damian. “Somewhat. Major injuries require a magician’s intervention, but if there’s a difference with more minor ones, I can’t tell. How is it you are from another planet, and now here?”

“Secret of the trade,” Laoise answered, exuding a certain air of smugness. “Would you like to be returned now?”

Damian eyed Reese, who still had that same unbothered expression and the stance of a hunter lying in wait for her prey. Perhaps waiting on Rycellus or one of his underlings to check on their trap. “How is it we could not see you until you… forced us here… but Rycellus speaks to you?”

A mixture of emotions crossed Laoise’s face. Anger. Frustration. Confusion. Amusement. “I do not know. He is the first we have found, both here and back home. I have yet to observe your other apprentice write runes, and yet Rycellus claims her to be a magician. Is she?”

Damian didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Rune-writing is less useful in combat as it takes time to construct even the simple ones. It is common practice to apply runes to weapons, clothing or skin prior to expected combat.”

“She is not in combat now. How hasn’t she tried to escape yet?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Damian admitted, hoping his uncertainty was convincing. “Why has Rycellus been abducting and torturing people?”

Laoise cocked her head, considering this answer and his new question. “We are looking for something,” she replied, “and we have yet to find it.”

Damian opened his mouth to ask what they were looking for, but Luc spoke before he could. “How can we trust that you are telling the truth?”

The amusement was prominent. “You can’t. But I can’t trust that of you, either.”

She had avoided giving a concrete answer to certain questions. How she’d gotten to Valaria. The name and specifics about her supposed home planet. Perhaps it was information she didn’t typically give out. Or perhaps she was lying about the business of it all. Not entirely out of the question….

Damian doubted she would reveal anymore about her origins or her goals. Doing so was guaranteed to jeopardize them whether Damian and the Watchers could do anything or not. Even with Reese trapped in the cell with them, she was still armed and any attempts to bind her would be met with pain.

He glanced at Luc, who nodded once, coming to the same conclusions he had. “We’d like to be returned to our physical bodies now,” Luc stated, crossing his arms. “I cannot provide you with a concrete answer for your first question, so an educated guess will have to suffice. She has found a way to nullify magic used directly against her. I do not know exactly how it is.”

“A rune,” Laoise mused, considering this half-truth. “Perhaps you are lying. Perhaps you have this entire conversation. But a deal is a deal, after all.”

She made a shoving motion with both hands. Instantly, vertigo curled in Damian’s stomach, and the cell blurred even more before becoming completely dark. His eyes snapped open, and awareness of his body flooded back into him, with all the aches and bruises and stiffness from being held in one position for so long.

Across from him, Luc stirred, eyes opening and darting about the room, searching for Laoise. But aside from Reese, they appeared to be alone.

Reese flinched at the sudden movement at the corner of her eye, but when she saw Luc and Damian awake, she relaxed. “So it was just sedation?”

Luc shook his head. “No.”

“Then what…?”

“I…” he glanced around again, “I’m not sure. But suffice it to say we are very, very lucky to have you here.”

She raised her eyebrows, but before she could ask further questions, her head snapped towards the cell door. “Someone’s coming,” she hissed, “tell me later.”

If there was even going to be a later. Damian kept the bleak thought to himself. He had said he was going to be the optimistic one, after all. A moment later, he heard footsteps echoing down the hallway and shook his head. How does she do that? Is it another Draigo thing?

Not that any of them could know for certain.

Reese rose to her feet and drew her knife as the footsteps approached the door and stopped. The moment the lock clicked, she kicked the door open, shoving back the person behind it and darting out of the cell, knife raised. Unfortunately, the door slammed shut the moment after she cleared it. 

The surprised guards cried out, followed by one of them screaming in pain. Another grunted, and Reese shouted, “Nobody move! Move and I slit his throat!”

Silence.

“Drop your weapons.”

Metal clattered on stone.

“Free the other Watchers,” Reese commanded, voice cold, “or I will kill him, kill the rest of you, and do it myself.”

Even without seeing the look on her face, even without being on the receiving end of her words, Damian shuddered. He made eye contact with Luc, whose face was set in careful neutrality. “Too much like a hunter,” he muttered as the cell door opened, and one of the mercenaries who had brought them here entered, hands shaking slightly as he pulled out a key and began to unlock the chains binding Luc to the wall.

Luc fixed the mercenary with an unblinking stare until the chains fell away and rose to his feet, rubbing at his wrists. He didn’t take his eyes off the mercenary until Damian’s chains were unlocked and helped him to his feet. Damian staggered, the blood rushing to his head, but Luc didn’t give him time to steady himself before shoving him out of the cell.

The hallway outside was a mess. One of the mercenary guards lay on the ground, groaning in pain as a second pressed his hands to a wound in his abdomen, blood pooling on the floor beneath them. Rycellus slumped against the wall, Reese standing behind him with one hand twisting his arm behind his back and the other holding her knife at his throat. A thin trickle of blood dripped down his neck from where she’d nicked him at some point during the scuffle.

“Get in the cell,” Reese ordered as the mercenary who’d freed Damian and Luc tried to follow them into the hallway.

The mercenary staunching his fellow’s bleeding flinched. “But—!”

“Get. In. The. Cell.”

The mercenary exhaled slowly before grabbing the other mercenary’s shoulders and dragging him into the cell, leaving a smear of red on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Rycellus murmured, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall, “why haven’t you… oh, bullshit.”

Reese yanked him away from the wall, forcing a cry as the edge of her blade bit into his neck again. “You too.”

She shoved him inside the cell after the other three and slammed the door shut, throwing the bolt with an air of finality. “Now that’s over with…” she muttered, sheathing her knife, “we should get out of here. I sent Nari Shaye—Rycellus’ sister—ahead with the evidence I gathered and we should meet the town authorities en route.”

Luc regarded her with that same stony expression. “You gathered evidence… and sent it ahead… with his sister…” he sighed. “I remember telling you explicitly to—”

“And y’know what it all worked out,” Reese interrupted, grinning. “Now come on, let’s go.” As she moved past him towards the stairs, she swatted her arm. “And stop acting like your uncle. It doesn’t suit you.”

Damian glanced at Luc, who shook his head, not quite shedding the neutral look. “Well, you heard her,” the Watcher agreed, gesturing ahead. “But I’m not leaving until I get my weapons back.”

And who knows how long that's going to take. But Damian had to agree. He wasn't taking any more chances on the road. And the last thing he wanted was to get himself killed before he could dig more into the mysteries he discovered today.

[tempests-bards-and-birds]

why is it that it's taken me four weeks to write approximately 1k words on my Actual Serious Fic but i've managed to write nearly half of that on the crack one that my friends inspired me to write in the past twenty minutes. huh.

[dutyworn]

also your muse and wren kidnapped together and her being forced to watch someone torture your muse and probably try to bait the kidnapper into torturing her instead

[cryptids-lobelia-garden]

I managed to pull this together in the middle of an Absolutely Horrible work day! Yay! (Writing this is probably part of what got me out of a stress and caffeine induced panic attack) Unfortunately I didn’t get it edited on time to post on time, but Hey! It Exists :D Anyway, people should write more characters having autism shutdowns. It’s very frustrating being barely able/unable to talk (I am autism btw)

Anyway, this one’s very environmental. I feel like the timespace distortions in PLA could have been a LOT more horrifying, and I’m here to deliver! Warnings: animal attack (again), uuuuhh what do you call this.. time and space are being bent and torn around him and it is some sort of cosmic horror or something idk what that term means exactly I just know it’s what comes to mind, but uuuh yeah this one’s kinda tame actually.

All of mine so far have been pretty tame, let’s be honest. I promise I can write other stuff we just haven’t gotten to the Good Stuff I Have Planned yet

Day 5: Reckless

Takes place some time after the battle atop Mount Coronet. (After day 4 of this event, far before day 3, which happened before days 1 and 2)

~~~~~

Volo should have known this would happen when a strange energy started to fill the air. He should’ve known this would happen when sparks started to fly.

He thought he had more time before it did, thought he could pick a few more berries from this tree and run.

He should’ve known better than to test his fate, especially in a distortion that he had indirectly caused. Arceus has a sense of humor, after all, and Volo is no stranger to the cruelty that fate seems to love to bring him.

Scents from past and future flow into the air, and he can hardly breathe, stumbling as the ground morphs and shifts under him. One moment, he’s standing on the grassy hill, and the next, a structure he doesn’t understand appears out of nowhere, trapping him inside.

He scrambles his way out a window and brings his fingers to his mouth, whistling as loud as he can.

But Toge doesn’t come. She can’t hear him in the storm.

I could die here.

The realization sends chills down his spine.

He’s been confronted by his own mortality plenty of times in his life. It’d be a surprise to hear someone hasn’t, really, in a world as dangerous, as cruel as this one. Wild Pokémon attacks that aren’t immediately deadly can still be incredibly dangerous later, after all, and there’s a myriad of other dangers in this world.

Volo happens to be particularly good at getting himself into bad situations, and fate has always seemed to be especially cruel to him. He’s faced death plenty of times.

But it’s never felt so close.

He could run from murderers and wild Pokémon. He managed to strike a deal with Giratina when they met, he learned everything he could forage so he would never starve, he had even escaped the wrath of a particularly powerful zoroark, which is an impressive feat, considering the fact that even the normal zoro put plenty of people on the death toll.

But he can’t run from this. Not when he can’t breathe and the ground itself doesn’t seem to work as it should, flickering in and out of existence at the drop of a hat.

He curses himself for his stupidity as a terrified steelix shrieks, a sound like boulders tumbling down a mountain. It’s moving too quickly to see where it’s going, barreling straight towards Volo.

He just manages to dodge out of the way, ducking and rolling behind a tree- but an electric attack hits him, and he shrieks as his whole body jolts from it, falling to his knees.

It’s hard to move, he’s shaking, his muscles are spasming.

He can’t run.

Paralyzed.

I’m going to die here.

Something falls into his hands, a strange device. Some sort of bracelet, with a thick, flat face.

It lights up as he touches it.

He frantically presses back against the tree as an alpha raichu steps forward, holding the strange device up.

He’s about to move to throw it in desperation-

And then something he touches on it creates a shield of pink and blue energy, surrounding him just as the raichu tries to hit him with a Thunder.

He can breathe.

Volo scrambles to his feet, catching his breath. “Is this- some sort of shield..?” It moves with him as he walks- no? It’s moving with the device.

He scoops it off the ground, shaking his limbs out to try to get the rest of the electric attack out of his system, and he sprints towards the outside of the distortion, carrying the device with him. The ground materializes beneath his feet, holding steady even as it breaks around him, and he thanks fate for finally giving him something good.

Some attack hits the shield, and he yelps as he’s thrown, but he isn’t hurt by anything except his own bad landing. Scrambling back to his feet, he runs the rest of the way out, jumping through to the outside of the bubble of distorted land just as the timespace storm starts to swirl.

Terrified pokemon shriek as they’re swept into it. Volo nearly throws up as he sees human remains inside, swirling with the rest.

And, in a flash, all of it is gone, leaving no sign of what just happened but specks of shimmering pink dust, floating softly to the ground.

He’s in a cold sweat, shaking as he stares at where he was almost swept away. The trio would RUN INTO these. For FUN, to collect the things inside.

What the HELL is wrong with them!?

He takes a few shaky breaths, collapsing to his hands and knees. The device makes a clicking sound as it wraps around his hand, but he pays it no mind for now.

Okay.

Okay, I’m okay. I’m alive. I’m okay.

..I have nobody to blame for that except myself. I shouldn’t have stayed when the storm started to gather. And for what, a few handfuls more of berries? That wasn’t worth the risk!

He stares at the strange device, which has moved to his wrist. There’s numbers on the front, though he’s not sure what they’re for.

It’s a miracle I made it out. And it’s because of this wondrous device..

It’s locked itself around his wrist somehow. He can’t see the locking mechanism- it looks like a clean band, aside from the face. The only sign as to its origin is some strange lettering on the side, though he doesn’t really recognize the characters. He knows he’s seen them somewhere before, though.

With some experimentation, he figures out he can move the device up and down his arm, but he can’t take it off. It’s comfortable no matter where it is, fitting perfectly to his skin, but it won’t go over his hand, despite obviously having the capability of doing so.

Fascinating..

Okay, he’ll deal with that later. He stands, making his way back to the little camp he’s set up.

He’s still feeling a little stiff with the after effects of a fairly mild electric attack paralysis, but he’s not too hurt- he must’ve not been hit too bad, thankfully.

Volo sits at camp, dumping out his bag and counting the supplies he’s managed to gather.

If he finds a way to preserve the food, what he has gathered today will be enough for a few days. So the progress towards what he and his Pokémon need to survive the winter is slow, but it is progressing.

The extra berries he grabbed are enough for two extra meals for Toge, so there’s that, at least.

Was it worth the risk? No, not in the slightest. Not when he can easily gather that safely.

But does it make him feel a little better about it?

Absolutely.

He looks up as a shadow falls over him, quickly moving to catch Toge as she flies into his chest. “Hey!”

She squeaks happily, shaking her bag- and that’s the sound of a bunch of apricorns. He can also see the leaves of a few different edible plants and medicinal herbs sticking out.

Volo smiles, cuddling her close. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, burying his face in her feathers with a quiet sigh. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

~~~

PARADOX DETECTED

A young woman leans over to look at the alert, brushing curly red hair out of her eyes. “Oh! Well, that explains where he got his watch.. That is a dangerous paradox, wow. Very lucky it didn’t break anything. Dialga must have helped..” She sighs, tapping a few buttons on her watch and sending a quick message to Management. “..Dragons. I need to figure out how Eclipse got it off so I can update the security systems.. What a bother.”

[whumpberry-cookie]

I wrote an english exam in my uni recently and I've never been as insecure about past tenses as I am now.

Like past simple? Caretaker got his Whumpee whumped? Alright, nice and clear.

Past continous? Whumpee was being whumped for a long time. I can get that too.

But had have? Had has been?! IT'S ENOUGH OF HAVE HAD HAS INGS!!! STOP THIS MADNESS

[cepheusgalaxy]

mild electric shock -> less than 50 volts. risks: injury

high-voltage -> higher than 500 volts. risks: cardiac arrest, burns, internal injuries, etc.

[pharawee]

I am... honestly not looking forward to watching La Pluie tonight. I think the show completely lost me last week. I just can't get over Patts' violent outburst.

I tried wrapping my head around it by reading up on various interpretations and reviews but I just can't. I don't think it's justified at all. I can't excuse it. I can't put myself in Patt's shoes, and it's put me off the character completely. On the contrary, as a character he scares me because he's become so unpredictable.

So I guess I've encountered what the fandom elders call squick. And I guess I'll just leave it at that.

*That being said, the show itself is not to blame at all. It's fantastic. The acting is amazing. The discussion around it is incredible! 🙏