z06

Vlad from Young Dracula and Rhydian from Wolfblood

We barely know anything about Madagascar pre-500CE. We don’t even know whether the island had a permanent population before then, despite finding a bunch of much older signs of temporary human presence.

Malagasy mythology makes mention of the vazimba, a “precursor” ethnic group that might or might not be distinct from Madagascar’s current population.

The point is, we do not know.

So you were in Madagascar when the pyramids were being built in Egypt, i.e. during one of the most obscure, most undocumented parts of Madagascar’s human history?

Creepy Whumper biting his lip while observing whumpee

Whumpees lips quivering before they're about to burst into tears. Same with sniffling and scrunching their nose.

Stoic whumpees eyebrows instead of eyes doing the talking

Whumpee's face blanching at the mere sight of whumper

Vice versa, caretaker finally sees whumpee and their face goes white

Defiant whumpee gritting teeth trying not to scream or cry. They will not give whumper what they want.

Whumpee biting down on their tongue, or chewing on their cheek to prevent themselves from blurring out how they really truly feel about Whumper

Stoic whumpee blushing as caretaker changes their bandages

I love pretty much everything living weapon related! Forced to fight, either loyally or not. It can put agency back into the hands of the living weapon while not taking them out of the whump situation.

a slave must never assume the same position as their owner— let alone one higher than them. this is all whumpee can think of as they stir the pot. owner is still asleep in their room. they had them cater to their worthless needs yesterday— made them do a slave's job, made them wait on hand and foot for them.

this is so absurd, whumpee has a hard time convincing themself that it wasn't just a fever dream— and had they not awoken in the guest bed, surrounded by blankets and duvets, they would have wholeheartedly believed so. they check the clock again. any moment now. will owner beat them up for their insolence? throw them out of the house? exchange their wares? but, no. there's usually a no-return policy on this sort of thing, whumpee thinks absently.

"should you be up yet?" owner yawns, taking a seat on the table. whumpee freezes. "sorry?" a little stitch appears between their eyes, "I meant, are you feeling okay now? you were pretty out of it yesterday."

is that a twisted way to bring up yesterday's transgressions? if so, "I apologize for yesterday," lowered eyes, lowered voice, shoulders slumped with regret. an acceptance for any suitable punishment written in their posture.

"no need to apologize, but, uh," owner looks uneasy. "did you not have anything at all? for two days?" "no, you didn't allow me to."

at this, owner looks entirely befuddled. "what do you mean? you don't need permission to— eat or drink, surely."

this is so beyond whumpee. what is happening? surely owner couldn't be implying that they were allowed to feed anytime. that was something that— normal people did. not whumpee. they had vague memories of being burnt upon sneaking a morsel of bread when starving and barely coherent. of cigarettes put out on their tongue before being fed tasteless gruel. of being around food, constantly hungry, of never being allowed any.

"of course I do. all slaves do."

the dawning horror on owner's face is a mystery they can't quite decipher. did whumpee say something wrong?

he pulls a fanon-tim drake, fucking around online to get groceries delivered and keeping busy with random skills and textbooks to distract himself from the bone-deep chill of loneliness or the flashbacks from thunder or the insomnia-inducing nightmares or the-

anyways.

he can almost convince himself he enjoys it, that he prefers this. he doesn’t have time for anyone, they’d just get in the way of his studies. sure, he doesn’t go to school, and he misses hearing people's voices outside of video lectures. but he’s always enjoyed learning, and he wants to be a doctor! the best there is, like his dad.

yeah. yeah! if he had anyone around, they’d just distract him from his mission. he prefers this.

and he’s doing fine, he thinks. at least, he’s doing the best he can.

it’s just- he’s in the future, right? and he’s still alone? there wasn’t anyone for him? still? he should be in his forties and the manor is still empty?

but there are signs of people having lived here. a family, even! he looks himself up and- oh!

he has kids! a family! he adopts five kids in the future! he has a family!!

but he’s been alone for months, now. the manor has been cold and empty the whole time he’s been there. where... are they? why haven't they come home?

oh. they probably left him too. alfred always does did say he’ll drive people away, being so miserable and gloomy all the time. they probably saw the broken thing inside him that seems so visible to everyone he meets, the thing that makes people laugh at him, the thing that makes him miss social cues. like he's not really a boy, but a novelty.

he wants to go back home. to the past. maybe it wasn’t so bad, with just alfred. he should’ve been more grateful. is this a test? if he’s better will he get to go back? he wants help, he wants a hug, he wants anyone.

he hates this. he hates cooking for himself and he hates tucking himself in bed and he hates dragging a step-stool around between the kitchen sink and the stove and the countertops because even on his tippy toes he can’t reach. he hates that every step echoes because the house is so empty and he hates that he had to wear a dozen layers because he’s cold and can’t figure out the thermostat and he hates that he cries every night while hugging himself because no one is there to do it for him. he hates that the happiest he feels is when he gets a Congratulations! email after finishing an online course.

he’s supposed to have a family now, and even his adult-self couldn't be good enough to keep them around, and he’s alone alone alone.

what was the point of this? what was the point of bringing him to see the future that awaits him? to see how worthless he is and will always be? how easy he is to leave? how awful it is to be around him??

he was stupid for hoping his future would be better.

what was the point surviving that night? of surviving every night after that? why even bother staying alive?? to be alone???

not for the first time, nor for the last, bruce goes to sleep praying he wont have to wake up.

pt2 will be something w the kids coming home! more angst dont worry <3

hello!! that makes me so happy :) oo medieval whump i haven't read much of it but;;

royal whumpee captured and treated like one of the prizes— displayed for all to see, the ultimate showcase of an empire falling, of a public humiliation to really drive the defeat home. bonus points if someone they loved is in shackles as well, their rage and heartbreak prominent in the lines of their expression. whumpee never wanted to be seen in such a state. especially not by them.

servant whumpee who is effectively treated as a punching bag. their sole purpose is to keep whumper in a good mood. whether this leads to broken bones, painful burns, bloody gashes— doesn’t matter. imagining whumpee getting up to follow whumper to their next meeting, as they get in the carriage, and whumpee has to limp all the way to their destination. augh.

In The Last Olympian he succeeds in helping Percy gain faux-immortality.

He succeeds in convincing Hades to help with an army of the undead.

In Heroes of Olympus, he adapts to his role as ambassador while keeping his disguise safe and maintaining the distance between both camps.

He sets out to find the doors of death, and accomplishes the same.

He leads the crew to Epirus and keeps his promise to Percy.

In Blood of Olympus he delivers the statue in time alongside Reyna and Coach Hedge.

In Trials of Apollo, he helps disable Nero's vats with the Troglodytes help.

Tumblr post from jesncin reading: my high school english teacher would often critique our literature analysis work by pointing out: "you're treating these characters like they're real people. They're not. They're characters." And it took me a long time to understand what he meant by that. Because I always thought "isn't that the point? That writers want to write characters to be so three dimensional that they act and feel like real people?" but that's not it.

Characters are tools a writer uses in service of a story. Of course characters can be written with depth to the point the feel real to us, but they exist in service of their narrative. Something real people aren't beholden to at all. When discussing characters, I think it's easy to accidentally see these characters as "real people" and not extensions of the author's beliefs. Tools for a narrative. Means of storytelling.

Quote tweet from Inkfy (@/ inkfyCreates) reading: People have developed unhealthy attachments to fictional characters. "A character can't be a narrative tool, they make you Feel things so therefore they are Real to me" is a major problem for literature nowadays. People can't engage with what's actually being showcased.

Image #2: Tweet and reply from rea (bubbles emoji) (@/ lyfjiaberg) reading: Half the reason why we cannot get genuine readings of characters anymore is because people project too heavily on them and treat them as extensions of themselves so when the character is criticized it feels like a personal attack on their own personhood

When they realize what it is, what do they do?

Do they read it, saving Whumpee the pain of telling them? Does Whumpee feel shame now that the team knows?

Percy doesn't really know how he ended up living with Jason and Nico. It wasn't really on purpose. It's just what happened when it all went down.

It, being when he and Annabeth broke up and he was chivalrous and told Annabeth she didn't have to move. Unfortunately, that meant he didn't really have anywhere to go. He could live with his mom, but Estelle took his room and he's 25-years-old. He doesn't want to live with his mom, as lovely as she is. He couldn't go back to camp either, and he certainly couldn't go anywhere else in New Rome. He was in dire straits until Jason offered his and Nico's guest room after Percy has spent two months couch hopping.

"You have a guest room?" Percy asked at the time. "In New York?"

"Nico's dad," Jason said, and Percy could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "Don't worry about it. At least you won't have to pay rent."

There's that, Percy guesses. Things could always be worse. Things could always be like right now, when Percy knocks on Nico's and Jason's front door only to be faced with a scowling Nico di Angelo.

Because for the whole book Hazel felt like she was a miserable, evil failure for what happened with Gaea and she was convinced Frank would hate her if he knew