#yes it was already whumpy

[just-another-sickfic-blog]

We love the Mentalist for it's whump but considering that Jane and Lisbon are literally up in each other's business in a way that I'm sure got them CCed in every single office romance update from HR, I don't think it was utilised enough.

[violivs]

Skipping ahead to today's NMTDaily video- the go-to obvious angsty AU for play era is what if Benedick and Claudio had actually had to duel. So in this canon, where there are no swords, I've often wondered if there was anything that could make this Ben actually punch Claudio, which is the closest we'd get. (They couldn't have posted it on the internet, but that's not the point here.) This episode is that answer, that Ben isn't a violent person, just goes cold and angry and kicks Claud and Pedro out of his house just by saying "Leave." Now, if they'd refused to leave and kept bad-mouthing Hero and Bea... everyone has a breaking point. In this AU, he'd lose his temper and hit Claud once, and both Claud and Pedro'd immediately leave in shock. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered fic-ing it just to get to write Ben showing up at Bea's all freaked out with a badly bruised hand, and her taking care of him and also freaking out, like "when I said kill him, I didn't mean literally, this could've been so much worse, oh god, I'm so glad you're okay you idiot." It's got hurt/comfort potential for sure, but it always ends up feeling OOC on everyone's parts when I plot it out in my head, so I haven't done it. I think TCW modernized this exactly right.

It's also really interesting that the boys come to Ben's house looking for fun and comfort here, when in the play I'm pretty sure Benedick is the one who storms in on them to issue his challenge to Claudio. It tracks that in this version, dueling isn't a thing anymore and kicking them out of his room better shows Ben repudiating them in a modern sense. I just always think it's chillingly compelling to think about how the kids in this universe were soldiers who fought duels in the original universe and how much I want to protect them from that- even Claudio and Pedro, even though they suck right now.

I'll do a liveblog of this episode when I get to it, but here's some on-time thoughts.

[whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump]

This is me recommending this to everyone I know:

READ THIS ITS SO GOOD

INK BLACK AND BLUE (A whump fic introduction).

hello and welcome to my newest whumpee! I swear I'm writing my other stories but for now you can have him :)

CW for: BBU/BBU Adjacent, pet whump, brief mentions of non-con touch, non-consensual drugging.

1: Hand to Hand to Hand

Pet practically belonged to the casino by now. He was here more often than not, these days, tucked uncomfortably under some table in the back corner with his head down and his knees underneath himself, hands bound tightly together and chained to a table leg. It was a small place compared to most, low-lit in the yellow wash of the dying lights on the ceiling, hidden in some back alley somewhere. The kind of place people went when they didn’t want much competition, or when they’d been kicked out of every bigger casino in the area. Pet could find his way here from any corner of the town in his sleep.

Most days he’d be dragged in the doorway to a handful of pills shoved down his throat and a hand - or several - blocking off his breathing until he swallowed, then he’d be shoved down to his knees on the moth-eaten carpet to wait.

Today was no different. He couldn’t see much beyond the shoes of the players and the table legs around him, but by the force of the poker chips being dropped on the table and the anxious shifting of the pair of legs beside him, it was going to be… a long night. It had already been a long night. His owner - current owner, anyway - was losing, and badly.

A hand dropped down to rough up his hair and Pet gritted his teeth, curling his fingers into the carpet fibres and hunching down lower. Every muscle in his body drew tense, the urge to bite swelling in his chest, raging and painful, dulled only by the drugs in his system. Somewhere else, he would thrash and turn and sink his teeth in. But he didn't bite here. He'd learned that lesson well and truly by now. He worked his teeth into his bottom lip instead, and the hand drew away to throw another card down on the table.

The game dragged on. Poker chips slammed on the table above him, a kick to his side, yelling from the men who were losing, yelling from the men who were winning. A hand in his hair, more chips on the table, more yelling. Cards, chips, hand, yell. Teeth into lip. Cards, hands, yelling. Nausea, climbing his throat. Drugs and swimming vision. The urge to fight, stuffed somewhere back behind his teeth. He didn't bite here.

The table cleared slowly as time wore on, players running slowly out of cash as it piled in the centre or finally deciding to escape with their winnings before they lost them again. His owner kept reaching down to pet his head – something that only this owner did, really, and Pet didn’t know if it was a nervous habit or if he thought it was some odd form of good luck. Pet had never asked, too focused on keeping his teeth in his mouth and ignoring the way it made his skin crawl. He’d never be seen like that, anyway. At worst he was bad luck, at best he was nothing to them at all.

He gritted his teeth together under the table and dug his fingers into the carpet. It was worn, here, from how often he did this. His table, his spot. Casino property, or whatever. He didn’t want to mean anything to them.

It was some time before the sound of the door opening drew his attention and he lifted his head to see a new pair of shoes stepping across to the table.  

“You have time for another round?”

The newcomer’s voice was not one that Pet had heard before. He stilled, listening. The men here were all violent and mean, slurred voices, rough hands. Pet knew them all personally. Intimately. He’d been to each house, each bed, each basement floor many times over but this man – he didn’t recognise him. There hadn’t been a newcomer to this casino in months.

“Just packing up,” said his owner, but there was an edge to it, like he was hesitating. The newcomer shifted his feet.

“Are you sure?”

“… You play cards?”

“I’m quite good at cards, yes.”

His owner sat up straighter and laughed. None of them could resist a challenge. This was going to drag out into another few rounds of back and forth, and his legs were already numb. It was a goddamned miracle his owner had kept him this long as it was, but he was quickly running out of money and Pet knew he didn’t know when to stop. This owner was always more hesitant to give him up, for whatever reason, but he’d done it many times before. He’d do it many times again.

There were three of them at the table now – his owner, another regular, and the newcomer. The cards shuffled, and someone started tossing them out. One fell, fluttering down to the floor, and the newcomer leaned down to pick it up. He glanced up when he did, face-to-face with Pet as he reached for it. The man blinked at him, picked the card off the floor and straightened. That was fine. He’d prefer to be ignored, anyway. Above him, the conversation continued.

“You have a pet here?” asked the newcomer.

His owner huffed out a laugh. “He’s not worth much, if that’s what you’re wondering. A pain in the ass, more than anything. Aren’t you, pest?” He reached down to rough up Pet’s hair again. He gritted his teeth together and refused to respond, which earned him a smack up the back of the head. “See what I mean?”

“I didn’t know they were allowed this close to the tables.”

A scoff. “You think this place cares? You’re not in a big city anymore, mate.”

The newcomer hummed in agreement. “Guess not.”

Pet glared at the floor, tearing carpet threads up with his fingers, bottom lip worked painfully between his teeth. He’d bitten it raw, but no one cared, least of all himself. It’d just be a point of mockery later, of wow, pest, had to try real hard to keep your teeth to yourself back there, huh? and rough hands holding his face still so someone could lick the blood away. He told himself he’d smash his face into theirs.

Bad pet. Pest. Fucking menace. He revelled in it.

Just not here, he reminded himself when his owner shifted his leg to press it against his side. The contact made his stomach turn.

The game went on.

“Not as good as you said, huh?” Someone said, late into the game, late into the night. “Bet that hand you got dealt isn’t looking as good as you thought.”

A laugh. A shuffle of cards. “I guess not. You’re doing well, though.”

“You’re too fuckin’ polite for this place, mate,” his owner laughed. More chips dragged over to his side, piled so dangerously close to the edge that if Pet craned his neck, or shifted just a little too much, he’d be able to make them fall. Somehow they didn’t when his owner leaned across the table. “Got another round in you? Or are you gonna tuck your tail between your legs and run home? Easy winnings from someone who claimed to be good at this.”

The newcomer sighed and shifted, a hand coming down to pat at his pockets. Pet had been here long enough that he understood what was happening, the desperate search for something else to put up, the draw to the game even when he’d done nothing but lose.

“… I’ll put my car in.”

The owner laughed heartily and accepted. The other regular had left, by now, and it was these two alone, nothing but Pet and the casino staff behind the bar to watch them. This game, another. The tide turned, and his owner started losing, the newcomer’s skills seeming to come through for him.

His owner was scrambling, now, the wins he’d been gloating about ripped right from underneath him.

Pet felt the tug on his leash before he heard the words.

“Throw him in, too.”

“Your pet?”

“His attitude isn’t worth shit, but a pet’s worth a lot of money, you know that.”

“… Sure,” shrugged the newcomer. “My dad could use another pet.”

If his owner had been any decent kind of person, he might have mentioned that Pet was not the kind of pet that anyone would want. He was disobedient and angry. He didn’t get passed around the casino because he was good. They all just wanted their shot at breaking him – it’s all he was good for, anyway. A bargaining chip, a game piece, something to be taken and given up. Just a monetary value and a source of bragging rights.

But his owner was a bitter, arrogant kind of man, just like the rest of them. He was a desperate one, too. So Pet became part of the betting pool once again, and the cards were shuffled above him.

In the end, no matter how hard his owner had tried, no matter what cards he played, it hadn’t mattered. He lost the money. He gave up Pet.

At some ungodly hour of the morning, after a scuffle between the men - over one claiming the other had cheated, or scammed him, or something like that - that the casino staff had to break up, Pet’s chains were taken off his wrists. He heard one of the staff mutter a recommendation for a muzzle.

The newcomer wrapped Pet’s leash around his fist and dragged him outside.

The world swam, and his legs barely had feeling back, and he didn’t fight when he was pushed into the back of a car, still too close to the casino.

He didn’t bite here.

But almost. Soon. When the drugs weren’t making him so tired, when he wasn’t trying to figure out what this new owner would be like and how hard he’d have to fight.

He didn’t answer when the man asked for his name. He’d stopped keeping track of those a long time ago.

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!): @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @whumpinthepot

[alpaca-clouds]

One thing about Halsin

I am currently thinking way too much about Halsin, because... Again, I love this dude. He just is one of the most wholesome of your companions and... I did not know I needed a hunky, hairy elf, but apparently I needed a hunky, hairy elf.

But writing a bit more about him, I also have to say, that I also love him for the whumpy and angsty stories you can write for him. Given all we know, there is quite a lot of whumpy material in his past. Be it with him and the drows, or be it just the fact that he has already lost so much in his life.

(Also, yes, I am still going with: He is a werebear. Might write something about that later.)

Something I cannot help but think about, though, is... Well, look, I am not better than y'all. I am sexualizing the hell out of this man. Because... I mean... Just look at him! I am a simple man, and I just really would like to climb this mountain, you know?

But I cannot help but also think about how - if the character was real - he would feel about it. Because I can see that within the universe... Well, he is exotic. There are not a lot of hunky, hairy elves around. And while within elven society he would probably be seen as ugly (because usually elven societies do like androgynous looks - and DnD is not really different in that regard), he would also probably be seen as exotic enough that quite a few people would go: "But it's a kink!"

Especially given the fact that folks at the Sword Coast are generally quite liberal when it comes to sleeping around, I can kinda see a lot of folks just wanting to climb that mountain once, if you get my drift.

So I can see him both getting flirted with a lot - and sexually harassed as well. And given how he talks about his Underdark experience for the most part (as if it was not traumatizing at all), I think he would try to brush it off. But that does not mean, it is not hurting him, right?

Especially as he is yearning for a closer connection. Or has been for a long while before the curse at least. He wants a partner (or more).

And it might be I am projecting a bit much of book!Geralt onto him there, who is very much in a similar position (because he is a Witcher folks wanna bang him, but he wants a relationship and family, which nobody wants to have with a witcher).

And man, folks. Thinking about this just makes me want to hug this big bear of a man.

[mj-iza-writer]

Things that my dentist said to me at my appointment today that put me in a Whumpee headspace.

Note: The person who did my fillings and their assistant were absolutely amazing. They constantly checked on me throughout the appointment. Plus, made sure to check in on me periodically.

• "I'm going to do some investigating in here while I work on your teeth."

• "I'm hoping this helps. You may need a root canal." (I definitely would have loved to have Caretaker present when I heard root canal.)

• To assistant. "This is your first time seeing a back to back filling." (I needed four today).

"Assistant, "yes and you do it differently then how he (lead dentist, my normal doctor) does it. It's cool how you cut in."

Dentist, "yes you can watch how the decay just goes away."

• "Yes, she is very go with the flow and is a good patient.

"Me, "yes I've gone to so many of these appointments, I've gotten use to this."

Dentist, "so you're desensitized now."

Me, "yes pretty much."

• "Can you turn your head just slightly... perfect you listen so well."

• "She has a really bad gag reflex so be careful.

Later, "you're actually not doing that bad with it."

There were other parts to, that I've forgotten as this appointment happened earlier in the day, and I normally dissociate throughout as I have had a ton of these appointments already. My teeth are in really bad shape.

There is just something so whumpie about dentists visits. Like the nasty taste. Having your mouth forced open and pulled every way. The actual dental work being done.

This can be medical whump, lab whump, recovery whump, torture. It took four or five shots to get me numb enough, and it's warn off now, so I'm having some slight pain. I can't imagine getting this done without numbing.

Dental whump has so many options. I'll actually be posting a request about braces soon. Just so many options.

-MJ

[starryybrained]

Name 11 of your favorite whumpees

Ooh let’s see…

I love love LOVE @whumpcloud’s oc Vincent. Poor little meow meow… how I love him.. I also love *Aveline too she’s such a fun character to read about aargrhrgr.. these two guys’ personalities are so tangible through the writing in Things End/People Change and the angst between them is so good and I’m. I’m VERY MUCH normal about them I promise!!

*Edit: I MEANT CLARY. WHOOPSIE

I literally just began reading @sowhumpshaped’s series about 006 but I love 006 already (Let me tell you the training snippet/drabble about it… that was some good whump that was the writing that made me instantly love this guy)

I DON’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT THIS ONE BUT. @whumperofworlds’ oc Gulru he can have my heart

@whumpy-wyrms’ ocs Dew and Anton … yes I’m counting Anton even though he’s a whumper (Who might be a whumpee too? Can’t remember.. bad memory my beloathed…) LISTEN YOU CAN’T STOP ME I LOVE ANTON WHUMP

@honeycollectswhump’s oc Ashtray … I think about Ashtray often.. living object whump is one of my favorite tropes and oh boy his series DELIVERS on it (I also love Mireille and I know she’s not a whumpee but I need to say it I LOVE HER)

@befuddled-calico-whump’s oc Sahota (This is mainly because of the Test Track au drawings I’ve seen. I love seeing this man suffer)

@oddsconvert’s oc Izaak. I LOVE defiant whumpees … but a defiant whumper turned whumpee? Oh HELL YES (ALSO!! Henley)

Uhhhghghfhghgjmgngh I can’t think of any more but ten is close enough I think

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Okay, what you think of seizure/convulsions whump? And when did you realize you were a hospital/sickfic fan?

*love your blog, let's be friends!!

Coupla great questions!!!

1. I do love seizure whump a LOT. I try to make sure things are accurate because ofc these things (like a lot of sickfic and whumpy stuff) do affect real people, but yes I absolutely love reading and writing about it. Since I don't usually read whumper content, a lot of the seizure stuff comes in the form of epilepsy HCs and also pretty serious illnesses like meningitis.

There's something about seizures in whump which just takes things to the next level- if a character is epileptic, the looming threat of a seizure is just always there, and when it happens there's the panic of how long it's going to last/whether it's going to be a big one etc etc. If a character is sick and starts seizing, it's a sign that things really aren't right, and perhaps tips the scales for caretakers from 'illness like the flu' to 'this character is dangerously ill and needs to go to a hospital NOW'.

I have so many things I could talk about here lol, and maybe if people want to see it I could make a whole post about seizure whump on its own, but yeah, I like it a whole bunch!

2. I can't quite pinpoint the exact time I realised I was really into hospital whump, and that's probably because I've been into it for a LONGGG time. Like, even as a kid if there was a character I was really into, I'd start picturing them in these precarious situations. It's only when I got older, obviously, that I discovered there was a community of people who were just like me, and I have to say it was super relieving (I genuinely thought I was a complete weirdo with original, weird thoughts).

I mean, to put things into perspective I wanted to be a doctor when I was five, and a lot of that was because I already loved whump.

An interesting little thing as well is how I think this side of me co-exists with my emetophobia: I've always been super afraid of vomit IRL, and as somebody who's also super into psychology, I find it so interesting how the things we fear and the things we're attracted to can be so linked. After all, 'arousal' is the word used to describe the body's reaction to a stimulus, fearful or exciting or.... otherwise. A lot of people love scary movies because the domesticated fear is like a safe way of experiencing terror that otherwise only happens in real life dangerous situations. In a similar way, I suppose I love sickfics because I'm so afraid of them IRL, and it's a safe way to explore the intense feelings I have about it.

Anyway, this post derailed into me talking about WHY I'm into sickfic (I think) but I find it fascinating!!!

Thanks so much for the ask, and we can definitely be friends! Always love meeting fellow whump lovers ❤️

[oliversrarebooks]

The more I learn of ballet the more and more it makes seane for the Maestro. Omfg this sport is already so fucking whumpy by itself...holy shit

Ballet is pretty whumpy yes... many dancers have abused their bodies in the search for perfection, which does make it perfect for the Maestro.

[whumpsday]

Astarion and the Cleric #1: Lesser Restoration

Masterlist / AO3 Link (first time posting on ao3 since original fiction doesn't get traction there and this is my first fanfic :P)

content: baldur's gate 3 (fandom), astarion/tav (ship), vampire whumpee, starvation, comfort, caretaking, blood drinking

so i'm trying something new! never really been a fanfic person, only ever really written original fiction before, but astarion's been taking over my brain. so i wrote some incredibly self-indulgent fic for astarion and my tav. this is maybe the least whumpy thing i've ever written lol. prob cuz the game has so much whump already. there will be whump further in the series tho, and i have some VERY whumpy AUs planned too.

-

It was a no-brainer to decide which of his delectable new companions to snack on. Astarion had been thinking about it ever since he realized that Cazador’s control over him had slipped. A free man, he no longer had to obey his wretched master’s orders. He could feed on whoever and whatever he liked, whenever he liked.

And of his soundly sleeping campmates, the pick was obvious: Gentle. Even his name advertised him as the one least likely to put up a fight if he awoke in the process. He was small for a tiefling, not offering as much in the way of blood volume as someone like Karlach, but he would do nicely.

Would do nicely, if only he hadn’t been such a light sleeper. Astarion had scarcely hovered himself over his curled-up form when his eyes flew open.

“Shit.”

Gentle woke all at once, before Astarion could steal so much as a nibble. He squeaked in terror, not quite a scream, grasping half-asleep for his quarterstaff.

“What are you doing?” the cleric asked, voice pitched with fear, clutching the staff close like a treasured plush toy.

“No, no–It’s not what it looks like, I swear.” Losing his place in the group would be far worse than another hungry night, a severance of all means of protection. That was, if the little priestling and his friends didn’t stake him outright. “I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed– well, blood. It’s not what you think! I’m not–”

“Astarion, it’s okay!” Gentle interrupted, lowering his staff as the fear left his eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize. You’ve been suffering this whole time.”

The complete sincerity was almost sickening, as relieved as Astarion was at the priestling’s ready acceptance. “Yes, well, I’ve certainly been peckish.”

“You can have my blood,” Gentle offered, pulling the neck of his shirt down a little.

Just like that. So utterly easy. He hadn’t even needed to ask nor justify.

Astarion couldn’t stifle a small laugh at the absurdity. “My, you certainly know what to say to a man.”

“I would never knowingly let you go hungry.” There it was again, that cloying sweetness. If the cleric hadn’t been actively helping him, Astarion might have been more inclined to roll his eyes at the display.

“And I appreciate it ever so much,” he replied smoothly. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

Gentle blushed a deep violet, a reminder of the blood that would soon be his. “Yes, I suppose we shall.”

Astarion directed him to lie down, positioning himself over the cleric before sinking his fangs into his neck. It was absolutely decadent. This must have been why Cazador saw fit to deny him the blood of thinking creatures, reserving such a luxury only for himself.

He was so lost in it, he didn’t notice Gentle’s little gasps until he felt a timid tap on his shoulder. “Astarion?” he piped up, “Could you stop for a moment?”

It wasn’t enough. He wanted to drain the cleric dry from head to toe, every last drop sating what he’d been wrongfully denied for so long.

But he had an image to maintain.

“Of course.” He wrested his fangs from Gentle’s neck, standing up and stepping back.

“Just a moment,” Gentle repeated as he sat up, motioning Astarion closer.

Curious, Astarion returned to sit beside Gentle’s bedroll. “Oh?”

The cleric clasped his hands together, his palms emitting a soft, blue light. “Te absolvo!”

For a moment, Gentle’s whole body glowed the same soft blue. It faded as quickly as it came, leaving him with a little sigh of relief.

“There we go,” he breathed, lying back. “You can continue. I apologize for interrupting you in your time of need, but I felt as though I’d faint otherwise.” He tilted his head to the side slightly, inviting him back to the bite wound. “I have plenty more blood now.”

Astarion stared in disbelief. “You’re quite the character, you know. Though I can’t say I’m not a fan of your little eccentricities at the moment.”

“He wept for the hungry,” the cleric recited dutifully, likely quoting some dogma. “I’m honored to be of service.”

Never had Astarion been so thankful for one of Faerûn’s useless gods.

After he’d truly gorged himself on hearty tiefling blood and Gentle had cast Lesser Restoration a second time, the two sat in the warm glow of the crackling fire, Astarion’s stomach full for what felt like the first time in forever.

“Do you feel better?” Gentle asked, rubbing the sore skin of his neck.

“I do.” It was an understatement. He’d scarcely felt this good since the night he became Cazador’s. “Good, strong, happy. I should be of far more use in fighting.”

Gentle hummed anxiously. “Don’t like fights,” he murmured. He smiled anyway. “I’m glad you feel better. May you suffer no more. Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t realize you were a vampire, I could have offered you aid sooner.”

“If I’d known you’d throw yourself at my feet, I wouldn’t have bothered hiding it,” Astarion said lightly. “Most wouldn’t be so…” Naive. Foolish. Suicidal. “Trusting.”

“Help all who hurt, no matter who they are. The truly holy take on the suffering of others. Suffer in His name…” Gentle trailed off, suddenly aware that Astarion wouldn’t care to hear it all. “I’m a devotee of Ilmater. It is my pledge.”

Lucky, lucky, lucky. Astarion doubted the Sharran would be so generous.

“Besides,” Gentle continued, “Regardless of my faith, I wanted to help.”

“Hm. Well, praise be to Ilmater.” Astarion tried his best to keep the cynicism out of his voice, not fully succeeding. He stood, preparing to go back to his tent. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

“You can feed every night, if you’d like.” Gentle looked up at him with unabashed compassion. “It’s no trouble. Just get me when I’m awake next time, so I won’t be so startled.”

Astarion smiled, no longer taking care to hide his fangs. “That can be arranged.”

-

everything taglist (lmk if you only wanna be tagged in original fic):

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

[em-writes-stuff]

unresponsive

day 21 of @febuwhump

villain and hero

1219 words

warnings: past abuse discussed, bruises, cursing, hospital stay mention (not discussed heavily)

a/n: this one kinda got away from me, but oh well? i like it, it's just not that whumpy. anyway, hope you like it!

part one here

~

Villain looks up from his phone and watches a shadow pass his frosted window to the front porch. The figure stands there, frozen. Villain rises from the couch and stuffs his phone in his pocket. He walks over to the door and looks through the peephole. 

Hero stands there, arms wrapped around herself. Villain opens the door and pulls her inside, checking the street for any cars that might have followed her there. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, locking the door. 

She looks through him, barely acknowledging him. 

“Hero, what’s going on?” he says in a soft voice. 

For a few more seconds, they just stand there. Villain trying to calm the worry rising in his chest with every second Hero doesn’t respond. 

Hero chews on the skin inside her cheek, tears welling in her eyes. She finally focuses on Villain and shakes her head, “You were right.” 

Slowly, she unzips her jacket and pulls it down for Villain to see. Her arms are covered in bruises, so is what he can see of the rest of her. 

“Will you help me?” She asks, voice breaking. 

Villain nods, “Of course.” 

He leads her into the living room and sits her down on the couch. She pulls her jacket back over her arms and zips it up. Villain digs through a bin of blankets and tosses one her way, then takes another one out and sets it on the chair next to the couch. 

“Tea?” he asks, already walking to the kitchen. 

She nods, “Yes please.” 

He dips into the kitchen and calls out, “What kind? I’ve got…well how about you just tell me what you like and I’ll bring it over.” 

“Green tea would be great if you’ve got it,” she calls back. 

He rustles through the cabinets and pulls the box out triumphantly, “Green tea: check!” 

He swears he hears her chuckle and he smiles to himself while pouring boiling water into mugs.  Villain sets the mugs on a plate, the tea bags next to them and digs into his cupboard for the sugar. He gets out a few packaged snacks and sets them on the plate and picks it up and brings it into the living room. 

The blanket he tossed onto the chair for himself is on the couch next to Hero now, her eyes dart from him to the cushion, then back to him. He smiles warmly, sets the plate down on the coffee table and plops onto the couch, leaving a cushion between them. 

“I didn’t want to guess on how strong you liked your tea, so I just bought the bag. Take whichever mug you want, I’ll drink whatever. Sugar if you want it, take some snacks, anything you want.” 

Hero smiles and takes the smaller mug. She cups her hands around it and closes her eyes for a second before reaching out and grabbing the tea bag from the plate. She rips the wrapper and dunks it into her mug, swirling it around for a few seconds. 

Villain takes the other mug and does the same with his tea bag, then reaches to grab a package of cookies from the plate.

Villain looks over to her, trying to gauge how to start the conversation. She’s taking a sip of the tea, letting it sit in her mouth before swallowing. He clears his throat and reaches for the remote, “Music?” 

Hero nods, “Sure.” 

He nods and pulls up instrumental music. “This work?” 

She nods again and smiles, “Yeah, thanks.” 

He sets the remote on the coffee table and opens his cookie bag. He offers it to her first, then takes one out when she rejects it. 

“Do…you wanna talk about it?” He asks, wiping the cookie crumbs on his blanket. 

She bites her cheek and shakes her head, “Not right now.” 

Villain shifts into a more comfortable position and nods, “Do you want to talk about anything?” 

She nods, but doesn’t say anything. Villain inhales sharply and sets his mug on his knee. “What about the weather? It’s been crazy lately! I mean- 20’s then 50’s and even the 70’s? What’s up with that? My perennials started to sprout and now I’m afraid they’re gonna freeze next week.” 

Hero chuckles softly and smiles, “Yeah, it’s fucking with my migraines, the pressure change really messes me up.” 

“Migraines suck!” Villain says, leaning forward slightly. “It’s like. Hey do you want to have a constant owch pain in your head? Too bad, here you go!” 

Hero snorts and nods, “Yeah it’s horrible. And it’s so much worse because Superhero wants me to-”

She cuts herself off and looks at her hands, suddenly very interested on the border of the blanket. She bites the inside of her cheek and her brows furrow. She shakes her head and inhales shakily. 

“Yeah, I remember.” Villain says, picking at his fingernails. 

Hero looks up, “What do you mean?” 

He shakes his head, “It was a long time ago…and I’ve changed a lot since then, but I used to be you. Or…I did what you do. I wasn’t you…obviously.” 

“You worked with Superhero?” Hero asks, disbelievingly. 

He nods and takes a deep breath. “I know what he’s like. Used to think that him pushing me was what was best for me…just like you do. But then…” 

He shakes his head and lifts his shirt up, showing off a long, jagged scar along his abdomen. 

“He told me that…everyone fights dirty and I needed to be prepared for it. So he used a piece of broken glass and…” he makes a slicing motion along the length of the scar and drops the shirt, covering the scar once again. 

Hero looks at the floor, “I’m sorry.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Villain responds. “Anyway, he told me I couldn’t go to the hospital and had to patch it up myself, because there would be a time where I wouldn’t have the hospital as an option. And naturally, I couldn’t take care of it because I was nineteen…it got infected…and he dropped me off at a hospital. No money, no support, and he pretty much erased my existence.

After a few days in a coma, I figured out he wasn’t worth feeling sad over and I made sure that he could never actually succeed in what he’s been planning.” 

“What’s he been planning?” Hero asks, opening a bag of cookies.

Villain scoffs, “Of course he stopped telling people. He wants to branch out. Cover more cities, get more power. More control. That way he can take over everything. Make it so no one steps out of line, no one can do anything he doesn’t approve of. Of course, that’s not how he says it. He just ‘Wants to be able to keep more people safe.’ And the only way he can do that is by ‘Being able to monitor people who risk the safety of others.’ Which could be anyone, by the way, so he’d have to monitor everyone.” 

Hero shakes her head, “Why hasn’t he…I mean. Why does he let you…y’know? How come-”

“He doesn’t think I’m enough of a threat to kill me.” Villain interrupts. 

She nods to herself, “Is he right?” 

“God I hope not.” Villain says. “Could you imagine? I’ve just been doing all this for no reason?” 

[necrotic-nephilim]

https://www.tumblr.com/necrotic-nephilim/764256940366938112/before-reading-the-comics-thanks-to-sladixk-fics?source=share

I think it may also have to to with the Teen Titans cartoon – and the age we were when we saw it. I have this memory of an episode in particular (3x05 - 'Haunted') as pure psychological warfare... and something that evolved as the whumpy-ship flavour i love nowadays

(post in question) you're definitely right! though i was never a fan of the show, i've seen the Slade clips and i know the show went to lengths to make Slade seem almost otherworldly in how terrifying he was, especially to Dick. and since that show has left it's *mark* on DC content, canon and fanon, it's often a basis for Slade and the Titans in general. and like you said, the age we watch this stuff shapes a lot. those episodes as a young kid? absolutely horrifying. they felt so unsettling and dark and it rlly does make Slade have sticking power in the brain as being *very* deadly and how easy it is to imagine him always beating Dick.

i don't know how old Dick is in the show, but i can't imagine he's more than 16. which emphasizes that Slade teens to go against teens. can Slade beat Dick at that age? very likely yes, even in the comics. (though Slade was introduced when Dick was already an adult, so we don't have a ton of content exploring that in comics) the age you put Dick at when he fights Slade can change a lot. i always view Dick as an adult when he's fighting Slade, in which case Dick can usually win pretty easily. but if you slide him younger, you do have much more room for that fucked up whump that the show blessed us all with. which is the fun of this ship in general, it does contain multitiudes.

[damnfandomproblems]

Re some of the responses to 5942: "Actually 'Have you considered commissioning an artist to draw the thing you want?' is a completely reasonable response, you can't KNOW they'll refuse unless you ask!" Actually, if someone says "I know that my favorite fandom artists would refuse to draw this thing", that generally means "I've already looked at the commission sheets of all of my favorite artists in this fandom and they explicitly say 'I will not draw X'."

I remember one time I was looking to commission some fanart for a fic that was incredibly whumpy, and I ended up looking at commission sheet after commission sheet after commission sheet and seeing again and and again "No violence", "No gore", "No graphic violence", "No blood", etc. etc. etc., and the few who WERE willing to draw it didn't have the sort of style I wanted.

So seeing someone vent about their frustration regarding a similar issue, in a designated place for venting about fandom frustrations, only to see people come back with "Okay but have you considered commissioning an artist?" YES, actually. That's not the fucking point, and nobody wants to express frustration about the difficulties they're having doing a thing only to hear back "Okay but maybe you should just TRY HARDER."

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

whats something youve watched/read recently that had a nice whumpy moment in it?

Hmmmmm... Besides the obvious answer of fanfiction, I would have to say the My Happy Marriage anime on Netflix! (It's also a manga!! And a live-action movie!)

It's very much like a Cinderella story, but with the twist of arranged marriage and paranormal themes. Set in 19th-century Meiji Restoration era Japan. Miyo Saimori, the female lead, grew up in an abusive and neglectful household. In spite of being the eldest daughter and being of Noble status, she's treated as lesser than a servant in her own home. Her father arranges for her to be married off to a commander in the military, Kiyoka Kudo, who is widely rumored to be cruel and has not kept a fiancée for more than three days. Miyo learns that she's not a magnet for hatred, and Kiyoka gradually learns that he can bring happiness to others.

This anime is probably my favorite because it has soft, comfy vibes, yet still manages to have some nice whump material too!

Spoilers ahead!

If you don't mind spoilers, read on!

Some notable whump moments:

Miyo's general demeanor - she's timid and meek and fearful of nearly every person she meets. Even after getting to know them, she's still reserved and uncertain.

Repetitive, instinctive, fearful apologies galore.

There's legit a whole kidnapping arc. Yes, seriously.

There's "light" torture during this. I don't really care for torture sequences, but it was written well enough that I didn't feel the ick. (also, kudos to Kaya's voice actress for the infuriated scream. If you watch it, you'll know what I mean)

Bedside vigils, my beloved

Recovery after the kidnapping and torture (too brief for my taste, but still appreciated)

Sleep deprivation

Fainting~

A bullet grazes Kiyoka's arm in a duel for custody of Miyo. Yes, a literal duel.

Kiyoka falls into a coma from an accident during battle.

Also just an overall feel of recovery. For the first time, Miyo's getting to experience so many soft, gentle, warm, happy things that she should have already been familiar with.

[whumpdreaming]

Crownchain - "Pulling Strings"

Lady Avaline brings Kyrie along to a party. This has not been edited much, and I do think it would benefit greatly from a revision or two, but it's simply too much work for me right now, and I want to work on other things (aka my prompt fills for December). It's not very whumpy, but I hope it does provide at least some insight into the worldbuilding itself, even if it doesn't communicate everything exactly as I want it to. If you read, thank you very much!! I'm sort of at a low point rn and I just want to get something out there 😭

Taglist: @seastarblue

The party is as alive as ever when Lady Avaline, clad in a bright blue dress, and Kyrie, led by her crownchain, enter through the front door of the palace.

They turn heads. Not the entire room, necessarily, because as Kyrie understands that would be too much attention, but she also understands that her Lady has become a more and more important political figure in recent days. Lady Avaline strides in, confident as ever, looking positively immaculate. Kyrie is holding her helmet under her arm, devoid of makeup but allowed a simple pair of white earrings and a pearl band to tie her hair up, her armor whole and polished, its sheen bright against the warm lights of the palace.

Stepping inside, Kyrie often feels like the palace is a different world altogether. Here there is no pain, no whippings, only a separate kind of cruelty, one she has no place in. She is nothing more than a tool here, a weapon for her Lady's political manuevering. That is her place, to be fair, but she can't help but feel out of place here. She belongs in sandy arenas and blood-soaked chambers, not halls of gold.

The Regent doesn't often throw parties. Not because She doesn't enjoy them, but to have more of them would simply dilute their significance. Other parties, especially those hosted by powerful houses, are still important, but at a Regency party.. well, almost everyone relevant enough was going to attend, and missing one holds near-unrecoverable social consequences.

The foyer is large and spacious, but is nothing when compared to the grandness of the rooms beyond. The walls shimmer with opulence, mostly multicolored arrays of gemstones, largely the pleasant golds and blues that make up the kingdom's official colors. Lady Avaline and Kyrie make their way past the ballroom and into the vast dining area, where the most attendants would be at this early hour. Again, they turn heads, but Lady Avaline strides towards her reserved table, where Lady Marea is already sitting, at Lady Avaline's invitation.

As her Lady sits down, Kyrie eyes the other bondknight, a scarred man in gray armor that Kyrie doesn't remember the name of, although he looks familiar. Kyrie isn't entirely sure why Lady Marea keeps her knight's scars — maybe it was for intimidation — but it isn't her place to speculate. Lady Marea herself is a short, small woman with a great deal of yellow beads in her black hair, with a white and gold dress to match. Kyrie takes her place behind Lady Avaline as she surveys the rest of the room; a large chamber packed with small tables, each pleasantly lit by warm candles, where much of the socializing would be happening. Their table is a fine position, near the outer edge, yet close enough to the center of the room to be easily manuevabler around. Kyrie has become accustomed to thinking of noble gathering places such as these like battlegrounds, for essentially, that's what they are.

"You're really wearing one of those things?" Lady Avaline asks, likely because she's aware of the blue-suited man the next table over, pretending to be engaged in his conversation but really listening in on hers.

"Yes, actually," Lady Marea responds, sounding convincingly offended. "Lady Sira is a genius."

"Lady Sira is a fop."

"Lady Sira is a fashionable fop."

"Dear God. What has become of you? Wearing a blue necklace?"

"It's about the contrast. You're simply not fashionable enough to understand, dear Avaline."

"I should think not.." Lady Avaline trails off, as a uniformed servant approaches their table with two cups of wine, already aware of their preferences. He leans down next to Lady Avaline, and for a moment Kyrie grips the hilt of her sword very tightly, but it's just to pass on a message:

"Lady Foxheart wishes to congratulate you on your recent victories in the arena, and humbly requests you pay them a visit at their table. Second hextant, third row. 'The motion of wishes is unlike a river.'"

Lady Avaline smiles, but doesn't get up. "Tell Lady Foxheart I'll consider their offer." The servant leaves without another word.

The battle is politics, and the weapons are mostly the servants. Kyrie often considered attempting to speak to one, curious of how much they knew, but she was forbidden. Only the nobility could order them about, and they preferred to use them more underhandedly. Kyrie knew enough about the court to realize that Lady Avaline's move is to make Lady Foxheart sweat — her Lady has been on a vicious streak recently, and reactions vary; attempts to make alliances in the hope her Lady doesn't simply toss them aside are just as common as veiled threats and vengeful promises.

For now, Lady Avaline simply sips her wine, and pretends to gossip with Lady Marea. Their real meanings are obviously obscured, but Kyrie knows her Lady well enough to understand that her Lady is doing a lot of lying, misleading both Lady Marea (who will extrapolate the wrong information, having believed that Lady Avaline will not simply betray her) and the eavesdropping man (who will assume they are speaking in code, but will be wary enough to not act on impulse, delaying whoever it is that he works for in moving against Lady Avaline).

Mostly, the whole thing gives Kyrie a very large headache. She stands at guard, until Lady Avaline decides she's concluded, and goes off to mingle after a deceptively malicious goodbye to Lady Marea. Kyrie follows her as they weave around the tables, her open ears picking up random bits of conversation:

"Did you hear.."

"..recent loss.."

"..under soon.. that bitch.."

"..we'd be able to achieve mutual.."

"..what then?"

"..just adore that anklet.."

Kyrie stops, as Lady Avaline takes her seat at a long table. The people sitting actively part to make room, not wanting to risk offense, especially not against her. Kyrie shares a brief glance at the other bondknights, and a few she recognizes, but she's forbidden from speaking to them, so she keeps her gaze impassive.

"Lady Avaline!" A well-dressed man exclaims, bearing elegantly braided black hair and a white suit. His cravat is purple, and he does not realize that it is slightly ajar. Nobody at the table is merciful enough to mention this to him, although maybe it's intentional. His bondknight stands behind him, wearing armor with so much jewelry attached that it clinks when they shift, with a crownchain made of engraved gold. Their helmet is on, a sign of subtle hostility. "How wonderful of you to join us."

The others at the table nod their agreement. "You were quite impressive in the arena the other day."

Lady Avaline raises her eyebrows. "Yes. From what I understand, I've caused quite a stir."

"Indeed. I've heard Lord Iror still hasn't shown his face yet. One wonders if he's even coming at all.."

Kyrie, of course, knows that Lord Iror was killed recently.

"I've heard he's fallen ill," Lady Avaline says idly. "I do hope he recovers."

"His body will heal quickly. It cannot be said the same for his pride," one noble quips, and everybody laughs politely. They continue to cast an anxious glance at Kyrie, who ensures her face is impassive as always. The whole table seems to be just slightly uncomfortable — laughing slightly too much, smiling too widely, drinking just a little too much — likely from Lady Avaline's presence. They would likely be minor nobility, just on the edges of true intrigue, looking for their ticket in. The entire time she sits, Lady Avaline keeps Kyrie's crownchain in one hand.

"Yes, well, Suna, dear, I wouldn't be too afraid of all this.." Lady Avaline gestures towards the rest of the party. The rest of the table immediately goes quiet; Lord Suna is the first person that Lady Avaline has referred to be name. "Business. I do believe your recent investment has great potential, but you should have the experience to manage it properly. Write me a letter sometime."

Lord Suna seems scarcely able to avoid embarrassing herself with excitement. "Yes, my lady. I believe.. I should be able to find the time somewhere."

Lady Avaline nods, concealing the fact she fully plans to eventually blackmail Lord Suna into giving up some of her mercantile contracts to Lord Moro as a supposed favor, then brutally exposing him for unethical subterfuge in front of the entire court. "Well, then, suddenly I find myself terribly parched. I'm going to find myself another drink. Do well," she says, glancing backward sternly at the table as she does so, leaving them scrambling to wonder who soured her temper so quickly. Nobody did, really.

Kyrie follows obediently, her armor clinking, as they make their way towards the inner circle of the dining room. Kyrie takes a moment to look up at the beautiful glass chandeliers, but makes sure not to gawk. They are beautiful, however. Lady Avaline tugs, and Kyrie picks up the pace, until Lady Avaline stops and considers for a moment, then moves towards another table.

This time, she isn't given nearly as much attention, barely glanced at as she sits down and as a servant places a plate of exquisite-looking food in front of her. Lady Avaline picks at it, moreso here for the conversation itself.

In the middle of the table is someone Kyrie recognizes; the highly influential Lady Emeau, a small man wearing, essentially a white skirt and sandals, along with a pair of quartz bracelets, with no shirt to speak of. Unorthodox, but very distinctive, as he's powerful enough to make his own fashion, and people will follow. None have been able to replicate the exact effect, however.

Lady Emeau lounges in the lap of his bondknight, an exceedingly tall, muscular woman in purple armor patterned like scales. Hemlock. Her helmet is on, and she stares forward, statuesque in her stillness. In her presence, Lady Emeau seems positively dainty, but Lady Avaline appears to give him some measure of respect.

Lady Avaline murmurs her greetings and begins picking at her food, but her mere presence seems to have made Lady Emeau vaguely uncomfortable. The rest of the table's occupants would be aware enough to notice, of course.

Lady Emeau finally addresses her. "Lady Avaline. How.. nice of you to join us."

Lady Avaline smiles in what seems like a genuine way. "Of course, my lady. How is your engagement coming along?"

Lady Emeau smiles in a very preoccupied way. Kyrie can guess at how the political climate of the table just changed; in bringing up his engagement immediately, Lady Avaline must have some interesting information, and is manipulating Lady Emeau somehow. It's everyone else at the table's job to figure out what, and how, and why.

"Quite wonderfully, if I do say. It can be quite draining, however. Have you ever had the experience, Avaline?" He speaks with the forceful cadence of someone choosing their words very intentionally. Everyone at the table is completely focused on the two, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. And to them, it likely is. Lady Avaline wouldn't antagonize someone so powerful unless she was very confident or very foolish, and it seems they haven't yet made a decision.

"Only once," she says simply, well aware of Lady Emeau's intentions. Lady Avaline's husband, of course, was multiple years dead at this point, and Kyrie knows this because she's the one who killed him. "Regardless of.. how it ended, there were thankfully few snags. I hope your marriage has all of the pleasance and none of the tragedy, however. It would be a true shame if something were to impede it; I'm sure most of us here are looking forward to attending the wedding," Lady Avaline says smoothly, with the other guests murmuring their agreement.

Kyrie only has a faint hint of her Lady's true intentions, but the spoken ones are deafeningly clear. Lady Emeau coughs. "Yes. A shame indeed.."

Lady Avaline smiles, then makes an excuse that she must be off to use the washroom. She stands up, towing Kyrie along, saying greetings, exchanging pleasantries, exchanging threats, and drinking. Very much. Largely juice, but to any observer it would appear as if Lady Avaline is failing to pace herself adequately. She is a very, very good actor, getting slowly less and less composed. To any such observers, they'd wonder what it is that griefs her so; maybe they'd assume she's dealing with something heavy, or is angry at her earlier exchanges.

After some time, Lady Avaline leads Kyrie over to another table, with people Kyrie recognizes faintly but doesn't remember the names of, a very common theme. Kyrie is not particular good with names.

Lady Avaline giggles hysterically at something moderately funny, and then leans in close to whisper something through slurred lips. Kyrie.. should stop herself from speculating so much. She needs to be more vigilant. Maybe she'll ask Lady Avaline to punish her afterwards.

Lady Avaline stands up, nearly falling over in the process, leaning against Kyrie for stability. She stumbles forward, clinging to the crownchain, leading Kyrie forward and out of the dining room, onto the terrace overlooking the sea. Idly, Kyrie realizes she's slightly thirsty. She simply follows Lady Avaline around, wishing she could spend some time admiring the moon over the sea it instead of simply stealing furtive glances. Nobody spares much more than a furtive glance towards Kyrie, acting mostly as if she simply doesn't exist.

Lady Avaline says her drunken farewells to a pair of other nobles, wearing the most ridiculous matching outfits of green and yellow that Kyrie has ever seen. She chastises herself for the careless mental judgement.

"Oh!" Lady Avaline is saying. She tugs on Kyrie's crownchain, and her focus retains — to find none other than the Regent Herself in front of them. "Your Majesty, I didn't — see you there."

The Regent is a very self-assured woman. She wears a simple white dress, needing no other ostentation besides her elegant crown — the Coronet — to distinguish herself. Simplicity makes her stand out, especially in such a place where everyone tries very hard to make themselves unique..

Her bondknight stands besides Her, devoid of any name, chosen at youth from the Academy's selection of potential acolytes. Kyrie has never met the Regent's bondknight, only seen her in photographs and paintings and from a very far distance. The Regent's bondknight wears a solidly figured shell of armor painted blue and gold, complete with an embroidered blue scarf and cape and a long sword with sapphires set into its gilded hilt. The bondknight says nothing at all, completely emotionless.

"It's no issue. How are you, Avaline? Enjoying yourself, I can imagine?"

"Oh, yes. Of — of course."

The Regent smiles in a very interesting way, and then strides off. Lady Avaline seems slightly infuriated by the exchange in a way that Kyrie doesn't quite understand, then she tugs Kyrie's crownchain frustratedly. "Stay here," she commands, and then she stumbles off.

Kyrie stays. Without Lady Avaline, she suddenly feels very, very out-of-place, earning herself curious glances from passing partygoers. Kyrie wants to.. no. She stops herself. She doesn't want anything. She's waiting for her Lady to get back. Her attention does turn towards a small group of very young nobles at a nearby table. If she strains, she can just barely..

"..is there like.. a lost and found?"

One of them laughs. "I've seen it before. Somewhere."

"Wait, isn't it.."

"The one at the duel!"

"Yes. Wait, I dare you to go up and touch it."

"Are you serious? No fucking way."

"I didn't take you for a pussy, Syneau. What's it gonna do? It can't hurt you."

"She looks.. lost."

"Like I said. Lost and found. Go up and touch it. I dare you."

"Well, I mean.."

"Guys, I don't feel good about this."

"Just go, Syneau. It's easy."

"If it's so easy, then why don't you do it, asshat?"

"You're an asshat, asshat."

"Wow, being an asshat must run in the family."

"Exactly. Wait, you just insulted yourself."

"No?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"I insulted both of us."

"This is why you're an asshat. Now go touch it or I'm telling Mora you're scared of bondknights."

"I am not. My dad's getting me one for my seventeeth birthday."

"And you'll be terrified of it unless you touch it right now."

"Well, I mean, what if its owner comes back and, like, screams at me or something?"

"Oh, stop it!" One of them steps forward, a young girl in a floral pink dress. "I'll do it."

"Ooooh. See, even Juni is less of a pussy than you are."

"Fuck you, man."

The girl — "Juniper" — steps up to Kyrie hesitantly. She lays a hand on her breastplate, then immediately pulls it away like it's burning hot, and then slowly puts it back on, looking very widely into Kyrie's eyes. Kyrie stares, impassive, trying to puzzle out what will earn her the least punishment in response.

"Where's your.. owner?" she asks quietly.

"Elsewhere. I have been instructed to stay," Kyrie says. Juniper seems surprised, like she hadn't been expecting a response.

"Well.. okay, then," Juniper says, slowly walking away back towards her friends.

Kyrie doesn't allow herself to think further on the interaction, or to focus any longer on the conversation of the youths. She simply stays put, until a servant comes to inform her that Lady Avaline has fainted from drunkenness, and gives her permission to retrieve Lady Avaline and take her back to the carriage, off to return to the penthouses.

[wollemi-whump]

WIJ Day 17 - Recent Whump Obsessions

Well, I'd say there's quite an obvious one to be mentioned, the same one I wrote about for Day 5. Before that though, let me talk about my most recent interest.

I am always a slut for emotional whump, so I absolutely loved the first four parts of the bahkauv by @deluxewhump which I read per @whumpsday 's recommendation. I've also read about half of the Max and Carlo main series which has been wonderful as well. The writing for both of them is incredible, and I basically had that really-tense-adrenaline-filled-terror feeling the entire time I was reading, so you know it's good lol. I really enjoyed the characterization in the bahkauv. I kept forgetting the names (because I kept accidentally skipping the dialogue tags) but it didn't matter because the characters were written well enough that I could automatically discern who was saying and doing what. Very good story, love it much.

Ok, back to the other one. I've calmed down about it by now, but for a solid week I could not stop thinking about the lovely whumpy movie I had watched: The Eagle (2011).

Since this is the obsession post, here's some of my thoughts about it that I wrote a while ago comparing it to the BBC radio series. This is not at all a comprehensive review of the radio series, I literally only got through half of the first episode (of four I think), so don't be like discouraged from listening to it, it was actually good!! I just didn't feel the need to listen more since I'd already seen the movie and enjoyed it a lot. Anyway. Slight spoilers.

Episode 1 (halfway through)

There's quite a few major differences already between the movie and the radio, the most apparent one being that the events of the entire like first 10 minutes of the movie aren't in the radio. Rather than seeing Marcus get hurt, we just start there.

(Side note: I have to commend Tom Smith (Marcus's voice actor) on his tremendous sounds of pain. It's lovely.)

I think it's actually a disservice to the series to not have that scene or a scene like that. I liked it in the movie because it obviously shows how Marcus gets hurt (which the series does briefly), but it also shows off his bravado and courage, which I think really define his character and make it easy to the audience to understand (among other reasons) why he wants to go after the Eagle.

I think that scene also does great work to make Esca's character more complex. Rather than taking him for his word, the audience knows Esca is telling the truth when he describes how the Romans have fought the Britons. You can't deny or brush off all the objections Esca had towards Rome and Marcus himself.

Which brings me to the other greatest change: Esca. I will say that we've only just met him so maybe this will change, but Esca in personality seems so different than the movie. I don't know if this is a book thing <A/N: Yes this was a book thing> or just a decision by a specific person but Esca seems almost content? Which is strange? He is absolutely not living in the best or even good circumstances, yet you wouldn't sense that from his interactions thus far. Even describing the terrible things that have happened to him, he sounds strangely and comically upbeat.

One of the things that I loved about Esca in the movie is that he's absolutely not content with his situation, which helps with making him a very well-rounded character. He hates being a slave, and he hates being a slave to Marcus, and he hates Marcus and Rome all together. And that conflicts with the honor he holds himself to of repaying Marcus for saving his life. And yet he's even further upset about that because he doesn't want mercy, nevermind from a Roman. His personality gives him a lot more agency than I've seen with the radio version thus far.

It all goes towards giving Marcus and Esca a very interesting dynamic in the movie that seems very different from how it is in the radio series.

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[whumptober]

Hey! Not a question but some 'help' I guess. I know the event is almost done, but I found this really cool website and google doc on different characters that have been whumped through the years and stuff. Entries are added according to fans and mod's request and if anyone's interested in checking out, maybe looking for their favourite character, or just looking for inspiration then they can search 'Whumpapedia' on google. IDK if anyone's already spoken about it but I hope it helps!

Yes I love the @whumpapedia! It's great for whump inspo or for when you're searching for your next whumpy piece of media! You can find their official spreadsheet here