Well, Shit, Another Whump Blog

Favorite whump stuff rn

Content: manhandling, noncon, noncon stripping, torture, beating whump, sadistic whumper, whip/cane/branding iron, multiple whumpers, living weapon

Captive manhandled into position for noncon. Forcing pants down/shirt up violently

Whumpee going silent when they see what whumper is going to do to them/the whip/cane/branding iron/sex toys

Manhandling in general. Slammed into objects, twisted around, sat on, pinned to the floor by an elbow

Thrown into the wall and falling limp to the floor, trying to get up and failing, slumping over their trembling arms, leg half up under them

Whumper slowly walking toward weakened whumpee with a smile on their face

Whumper looking focused and slightly amused as they physically manipulate whumpee. Soft grunts of effort as they quickly pin whumpee down

Whumpee not bound in any way, writhing and struggling as multiple whumpers restrain and beat them

Losing a fight. Badly. And whumper doesn't stop there. They keep kicking, punching, dragging whumpee forward by the hair only to stomp them down again

The whimpee + caretaker deconditioning posts and stories that aren’t necessarily psychologically accurate are still very comforting to me in some weird way. As someone who did experience trauma-based conditioning, though, it’s also good to see talk of how conditioning can really work in real life. I don’t know how to word this; it’s just reassuring to know that i’m not ‘making it up’ or ‘exaggerating’ what I experienced. Sorry if this doesn’t make any sense. I’ve just been thinking about it all morning.

[context]

You've got nothing to apologize for, love. This is exactly the reason why I make these guides. Conditioning is hellish both to experience and to recover from, and it can be a validating experience to see it depicted with the gravity that really has.

The whump community is wonderful in how it draws so many different people with so many different experiences in. We have so many people who love whump for the escapism, the sadism/masochism, the inexplicable whumperflies, and every other reason under the sun for enjoying seeing characters pushed beyond their limits.

It can be easy to forget that there are survivors here, too. That even the things that seem extreme and far-fetched often have someone in the audience who it really happened to. Whump is meant to be an escape—but sometimes that escape is having someone else say, "I see you. I remember how it felt, too. You're not making it up. You don't have to be alone anymore."

Realism is my love letter to other survivors. It's my way of taking the compassion we show to our characters, and extending it to the real person other side of the page. I don't have a better way of telling a stranger that I see them, that I care about them, and that I know how much it took to survive the things that we have.

me for the last hours:

Maybe it was the realization that they were never going to see that random coworker that complimented their shirt (now ripped and covered in blood). Realizing yes, they’d probably never see anyone they knew, close or not, ever again.

Maybe it was coming across the gum wrapper left in their pocket, realizing they missed so badly something so small. They’d used to keep a pack of gum on them always. The tiniest things stung the worst.

Maybe it was realizing they’d probably missed some important milestone. They couldn’t be sure how many days had passed but they’re pretty sure they’d missed Christmas. Someone’s birthday. A wedding. A funeral.

CW: Langdon is 15. CWs include slavery, referenced collars, referenced abuse, and dreams of murder most foul

Langdon is fifteen years old when they take the inhaler out of his hand and put a gun in it instead.

"It's okay," Brewster says, with a slight, friendly smile, patting him on the back. Brewster's older than he is by more than a decade, if only just. They look sort of the same, most of the staff does, with curly dark hair and eyes a little too big for their face.

Plus, the black leather collars, white button-ups, and plain black pants all staff wears for every waking hour. He got his first work uniform, all three pieces, at four, like everybody does.

Not all the staff looks exactly alike, though. Some of them, like Vander, have almost unsettlingly bright blue eyes, too. Runs in the master's family, which means it runs in the staff family, even though no one talks about it. Langdon's are blue. Brewster's are a color like a stormcloud in some lights. Something about both your parents having blue eye genes, but since Langdon's never been to school, all he knows about genes is what he's seen on TV when it's his night to pick a show.

Greg, his sister's husband, came to live with them from another house when he was three years old. His eyes are brown. His hair is stick-straight, lighter in color. His smile doesn't have the same sort of lilt to it.

Greg doesn't have Marcoset blood poisoning him, not like Vander - whose nerves are broken and don't feel pain, leaving him scarred and forcing Brewster to be his shadow all the time to keep him from hurting himself. Not like Langdon himself, who can barely work outside for half an hour without his inhaler close at hand. Not like Rita, who hardly ever leaves the bed, or Henry, who was born deaf and is probably going blind, too. Too much toxic blood in just about everybody.

The medic thinks he and Brewster are both the master's. Anyone who said that out loud where the master might hear would be whipped.

Personally, Langdon thinks Brewster is too happy to be Isaac Marcoset's son. Isaac Marcoset has a library of scowls and glares for any occasion, and only one or two smiles.

Brewster turns him to face the targets, breaking him from his thoughts. They're just wooden cutouts in vaguely human shapes that have had crude faces with horrible Os of surprise painted under their little dot-eyes. "We're just testing you out. Take the shots, see if you hit the targets. These two guys here, and if you hit those, those bottles I lined up on the tree trunks over there."

"I don't want to do this," Langdon says, voice low, a little airy. Even with his inhaler, his lungs fight whenever he's scared, or if he works too hard. The inhaler just holds off the worst of it. He hates the heavy weight of the handgun he's holding. Hates how good it feels. "Brewster, I-I don't want-"

Ohhh man, that hit me so hard 🥺 A first hint of power, presumably among the first he's felt in his life, and the thing that gets him through it is imagining getting away 🥺🥺

I wonder how many of the others had this same thought when their training began. I wonder what stopped them from trying.

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

>looks inside

okay. writers of tumblr. i’ve compiled a list of things i desperately wish someone had sat me down and said before i started writing, not that i would’ve listened, because i was 14 and powered entirely by hubris, iced coffee, and my wattpad era.

anyway. here we go:

1. stop rewriting chapter one. i know you think it’ll fix everything. it won’t. it’s a hydra. you cut one head off, two Google Docs appear.

2. your first draft is not a treaty with god. it can be messy. it can be unhinged. it can have 47 placeholders named “idk something happens.” it’s fine.

3. perfectionism is just fear wearing a blazer. write badly on purpose. humiliate your draft. it builds character (yours).

4. word count culture is a scam. you are allowed to write 200 words and call it a day. you are allowed to write 5k and then disappear into the void for three business weeks.

5. google docs autosave WILL betray you. download backups. then back up your backups. then sacrifice a pen to the writing gods idk.

6. description is not pretty synonyms. it’s specificity. the torn movie ticket in their pocket. the buzzing light in the hallway. the chipped nail polish on their thumb. write the thing not the aesthetics around the thing.

7. dialogue isn’t two Shakespeare ghosts monologuing at each other. interruptions. trailing off. people lying. people avoiding the truth. people saying “whatever man.” let it get messy.

8. you don’t need a whole map before you start. sometimes you just need one character with one problem and the stupidest idea imaginable.

9. reading your old writing will make you cringe but also cry a little because wow you cared so much. keep that version of you alive.

10. don’t wait to ‘be good.’ you get good by writing the stuff you think is embarrassing.

11. also: nine out of ten times, your “bad” idea is actually the one that goes feral and grows teeth and becomes your WIP.

12. hydrate. no further explanation.

ok that’s it because if i keep going i’ll start confessing things about the time i wrote a whole novel in 2017 that will never see daylight again.