Whump blog, mainly. I'm mediocre at tagging stuff so proceed at your own discretion. He/Him. Adult. Literally nocturnal. Sometimes socially awkward so I apologize in advance for that.
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It was a huge milestone of scientific and technological advancement. (Plus, at the time, politically significant). Humanity went to space! We set foot on a celestial body that was not earth for the first time in human history! That’s a big deal! I’ve never thought about it before but now that I have, it’s ridiculous to me that that’s not part of our everyday lives and the public consciousness anymore. Why don’t we have a public holiday and a family barbecue about it. Why have I never seen the original broadcast of the moon landing? It should be all over the news every year!
It’s July 20th. That’s the day of the moon landing. Next year is going to be the 54th anniversary. I’m ordering astronaut shaped cookie cutters on Etsy and I’m going to have a goddamn potluck. You’re all invited.
PITCH: We call it Moon Day, and then every 7 years when it falls on a Monday, that's an even BIGGER deal and we call that Moon Day Monday and go absolutely apeshit about it (the next Moon Day Monday is in 2026 so we have a couple trial runs first)
The real reason your sapient dragon character needs a "rider":
Dragons on the wing are vulnerable to being mobbed by smaller, more agile flyers, particularly in your large rear blind spot, like a bird of prey being mobbed by crows. Having a human armed with a long spear perched on your back helps to dissuade anyone from getting any funny ideas.
Breath weapons are impressive enough on the ground, but in flight they're really only good for strafing stationary targets; trying to use your breath weapon in an aerial dogfight is a good way to get fire up your nose. A real fight calls for sterner measures – and, concomitantly, a crew to aim and reload the cannons.
In today's competitive world, it's not enough to devour a flock of sheep and call it a day if you want to keep your edge. You're accompanied at all times by a qualified personal alchemist tasked with carefully regulating your internal furnace to ensure peak performance, and sometimes you even listen to them.
No dragon of any quality would be caught dead without their valet. It's not as though you can announce your numerous long-winded titles yourself when introductions are called for, can you? You suppose next you'll be expected to pick up the spoils of your conquests yourself, like a common brigand. Perish the thought!
I have one filtered tag. Just one. #deltarune. I don't hate it or anything, people just get really into it and I wanted to decrease the space it takes up on my dash. Anywho I saw a filtered post and decided "I'll check it" and I was not expecting that it was exactly what was on the tin, nothing more nothing less
It sure did have deltarune
It's just so funny to me that the one time I check a filtered deltarune post it's literally just the words "delta rune"
something i’ve always loved is a whumpee with very rapid healing who never hesitates to throw themselves in harm’s way, to act as a shield. Why shouldn’t they? it’ll all heal soon enough, and sure it hurts, and sure some of these hits wouldn’t have landed anyway, but better safe than sorry. especially when they’re first paired with a team that takes full advantage of this, then moved to a second team that, for some unknowable reason, cares about whumpee’s wellbeing
#390
content: team whump, guns, shot, immortal whumpee, hero villain whump, needles, past trauma, comfort
It was so easy.
It was so rewarding.
It was such a no-brainer.
Sure, it hurt for a little bit, but that was a small price to pay for being a literal meat shield that kept their teammates safe.
Wasn't it?
Everyone on their previous team took it for granted. That Whumpee would jump before a bullet, or a sword, or a dagger. They took full advantage of Whumpee's healing power, and there was never really a discussion about how maybe that wasn't all that ethical, how maybe heroes should've had a stricter moral code, and really, Whumpee didn't mind, Whumpee was just glad to be useful, it was fine if it hurt—
"Whumpee, move!" their new leader screamed, but it was too late. The bullet embedded itself in Whumpee's back, and they stifled a groan, knowing their new team would likely also think the noises were annoying. "Fuck! Everyone, pull back! Whumpee got shot!"
What?
Their previous team would've just carried on as usual. That was Whumpee's purpose: to take one for the team. To take two for the team. To take ten for the team. To take and take and take until they were nothing but a bloody heap on the floor, barely breathing, but always regenerating.
Before they knew it, Caretaker had picked them up in a bridal carry to rush them back to the team vehicle. But the battle wasn't over yet. Villain was still at large, and Leader and the team needed to stop them, and Whumpee was helping in that, they had done well, so why—
"Shit, Whumpee," Medic said once Whumpee was gently set down on their stomach. "You'll feel a pinch — it's a local anaesthetic. I'll need to dig out the bullet."
"Can you work while I'm driving?" Leader asked, already starting up the engine.
"I'll try."
None of this made sense. They abandoned an entire mission because Whumpee got shot, and now they were wasting anaesthetics on them?
"It's okay, Whumpee," Caretaker said quietly, just barely audible over the sound of the engine. They were holding Whumpee's hand like they were something precious instead of expendable. "I'm sorry this happened. You'll get better, okay? I should've paid closer attention to you out on the field."
"I don't get it," Whumpee finally said. They felt some pressure around the wound, but no real discomfort; they assumed the anaesthetic was working as intended. "Why are you all... Why are you..."
"Why what?" Caretaker asked gently.
"This is my role in the team. To take bullets. To act as a shield. This has always been my role."
Caretaker furrowed their brows. "Whumpee, what are you talking about?"
"With my previous team, it was all so natural. We never really had a talk about my role, but it was just... sort of obvious. I'd heal. They wouldn't. So I was cannon fodder."
Caretaker looked horrified. "You'd heal, sure, but it'd still hurt."
"I'm used to it."
They looked even more horrified. They squeezed Whumpee's hand. "Monsters, the lot of them. On this team, we look out for each other. Even if you heal. Even if you think it's useless."
Whumpee couldn't find the words to explain what they were feeling, so they kept quiet. But deep down, deep in their heart, there was something dangerous blossoming. Something they shouldn't have felt towards a teammate, or an entire team, when they knew their power made it so that they would always be required somewhere else. Maybe they'd be moved in a week, maybe a month, maybe a year. But they'd be moved.
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Something I've wanted to see more is exploration of nonhuman characters, be it whumpee, whumper, or caretaker, is different psychology to a human. A human needs to be held close, to be allowed to rest and be loved, be cared for and to feel needed, but wouldn't a snake be stressed by being held in times of sickness? Wouldn't a bird prefer to hide wounds rather than let them be treated?
And what about the inverse? What about pet whumpees whose species wants to be subservient? A domesticated breed that can't live a healthy life alone, a well-meaning caretaker trying to "wean them off" being so clingy could damage their trust if all they wanted was to have a clear hierarchy and obey a trusted leader.
Or a whumper that doesn't put much weight on a matter at all? Rips into flesh and eats chunks alive, but they find no problem in it, it's just their nature, they don't particularly care that whumpee is howling in pain. Or maybe they're dead silent, many animals are quiet in suffering, so why would a nonhuman differ that much?
I just want to see a whumpee who doesn't have a human way of going about things, who isn't just a human with wings or horns, but is something other completely. Something foreign to the human mind.
Captive whumpee has their own room, or closet, or cage, and when they enter it whumper won't touch them. They are never restrained in a way that prevents them from fleeing to their place. Whumper will lure them out with food or painkillers, with undoing any restraints still on them, with the promise of a shower, and whumper keeps those promises. Whumpee comes to feel safe in their place, and knows that, at least in this one thing, they can trust whumper.
And then the rescue happens, and the rescuers drag whumpee out of their safe place to get them to actual safety.
Every morning in the torture dungeon, the torturer (love your job and you’ll never work a day in your life) goes around greeting his victims with, “wakey wakey begs and achey.”
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Shout-out to characters who don't plan to survive their stories! Heroes who think they can only atone for their failures through sacrifice, villains who don't think they deserve to live in the world they're trying to create. Gimme that passive suicidality baby, mm-mm, delicious.
what if someone accidentally says "respect" without thinking about it in a safehouse
CW: Trauma induced flashback, noncon touching and kissing (brief)
"No, I get it... Yeah. No, it's fine. It's fine, Mom." Jake rubs at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, keeping his eyes closed against the threatening headache.
Not a real headache, just the return of Mother Knows Best.
"Yeah, I get that you don't like it, but you don't have to. I'm making a difference, I-... No, it's not like working in a fucking crackhouse, Mom! These people are not-... No!"
Shit. Too loud. Jake hears a sudden scramble from another room, rescues running for cover from raised voices, and groans, leaning slowly forward.
"I am helping people," Jake says, softly. Keeps his voice low, and even. Calm. "They are profoundly traumatized, and I'm making a difference for them. I am... What the hell do you mean, think about my future? I am! And I'm thinking about theirs! They're someone's kid, too!... Don't even-... No this is not like someone having a sugar daddy, this is coercion, and worse, it's-..."
The pounding in his head is worse. He and Mom had gotten away from Dad when he was twelve, and it had made him always want to stand up for people who had to live in fear... But his mother wanted to hide from the ones who caused fear instead. And he knew why, he understood why, but it never made this conversation any easier.
"Mom. My major is not up for debate. No, it's-... Damn it, Mom, can you just fucking understand that this is what I want? That I did my research and I know what I'm doing? Can you just show me some basic fucking respect?!"
There's a hard thump, and Jake looks up to see Chris, the little Romantic who'd appeared just a few weeks ago scared and hungry under the arm of one of Nat's contacts, on his knees in the doorway to Jake's room, his forehead pressed to the floor, trembling.
"Oh, shit," Jake whispers, as his heart drops to his stomach. "Mom... Call you back." He hangs up before she can say anything else. "Chris?"
Chris doesn't say anything, doesn't even move. His name wasn't Chris when he arrived. He picked it, like all the rescues, except Kauri and a handful of others, pick new names to build new lives.
Jake swallows, trying to remember what Chris's pet name was. He stands, slowly - no sudden movements - and makes his way to the door. He slowly crouches down.
Shit, what was his pet name?
Jake reaches out and puts a hand to Chris's shoulder, expecting him to flinch. Instead, the shorter, much younger boy pushes into the touch, rubbing his head against Jake's inner arm, turning his head to kiss Jake's wrist.
It's Jake who flinches and jerks his hand back, face burning. But he remembers the name.
"Baldur," He says, softly.
Chris looks up at him, eyes wide, hazy, lost inside himself. In his training. "Yes, sir. I'm... sorry, sir. I misbehaved. I will... show-"
"Ssssshhhhh. It's okay, Baldur. Come here. It's okay." Chris, still shaking, lets Jake pull him into his arms. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. You're still good, a good boy. You're still free."
With Chris a trembling leaf in his arms, Jake thinks that no matter how hard it is, or how low the pay is or whatever, he'd never want to do anything with his life other than help the people out there like Chris.
Hey, man, c'mere. Listen. Get in real close, this is important.
You're gonna make stuff again. You're gonna make stuff you're proud of. You're gonna make stuff you're excited to share. You're going to feel that overwhelming drive to create, not just the frantic I want to want to you're stuck in now. You're going to have awesome ideas, and you're going to make them into reality. You're going to create again. You're still an artist. You're still a writer. You're still home to the same passion you had before. You'll find it again. It's not gone. It's just resting. Let it rest. You're going to make stuff again. I promise.
Whumpee is at flatline. And their caretakers/team are doing everything they can, desperate to save them.
They exhausted themselves keeping up CPR for an extended period, several doses of adrenaline, tried anything they could think of, with no response. Finally it's time to call it. Whumpee's friends start to grieve.
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Just wanted to bring to your attention that the term whump was actually coined by the Stargate fandom specifically to describe making this guy suffer. He is the original Mr. Whump (no that's not his actual name). That's how torturable this guy is.
Everyone say mean things about him.
Here is a non exhaustive list of what he goes through in canon btw:
His parents get crushed to death right in front of him when he is a kid
He is forced to relive the memory of his parents death countless times
He dies and gets resurrected
His wife gets possessed
He fails to save her and she dies in his arms
He dies and gets resurrected again
He gets infected by a virus that makes him act crazy and gets put in an insane asylum
He dies and gets resurrected again
His ex gets possessed
He is exposed to a lethal dose of radiation
He dies and ascends to a higher plane, then gets kicked out of the higher plane and his memory is wiped
The one true character of all time, the suffering he must endure for us to be well fed. And I can't tell you how much this list cuts out, the SA, the other numerous deaths, the tortures, the addiction... He truly has done it all.
