whumper's journal

hello, dear.

sometimes, i pick favorites and obsess over them. i adore pets, and i tend to love the ones that are easily bullied and flustered the most, but a challenge is always welcome too.

my thoughts and feelings regarding my current favorites will be all over the place, but that's how a journal is, after all.

content warning: overall whump, creepy whumper, pet whumpee, psychological whump, torture, abuse, twisted/toxic romantic relationships, gaslighting, food denial/starvation, stalking, obsessive thoughts and behaviors, jealousy, self harm mentions (to be completed)

my nsfw tag is "whumper's journal nsfw"

my tag that contains toxic romantic relationships is "whumper's journal r"

feel free to block any of these and navigate this blog however you would like.

no sexual asks.

Realistically, both happen. Of course, breaking someone is a gradual process, but you'll always encounter outbursts every so often. I love the slow, rhythmic pace of getting to know someone, and I eagerly await the breaking points. It's almost like a progress check mark.

I see it in my day to day, every now and then. That part of me that never lets go of anything it touches. Every person I've ever been interested in is tucked away, in a corner of my mind only I get access to. In my dreams, I get to deconstruct each and every one of them down to their bones and sinew. I get to take my time, really dig my hands into their brains, take every ounce of worth they have, then chew and swallow it.

You rebel, and I pity you. My first instinct isn't to punish you anymore, it's to move on to better ones. Spare you. Have you so thoroughly bored me? Have I changed?

Even when I look at other sweet little things these days, I feel detached. I no longer want to see them bleed and beg, but slowly worm my way into their head. Set up a home there, become that which they've always needed.

I'm regressing to my initial self, my first acts of violence. When hurting didn't need to be physical, tangible. Where I could be a shadow in the corner of their eye, learn what they're truly like when they think no one is watching.

anyway, what do you think about whumpee who just belongs to the outside world. they just feel free in the wilderness. they’re not feral or anything, they just feel connected to the nature and the sun— BIG on the sun!

what would you do to them? lock them in a cage and never let them see the light of day again? trap them in a pitch black basement? or maybe you’re not that cruel and you just throw them in a room with a window with bars so they could still see the nature! but they’re stuck. in the room. with no way out.

My first thought was to use it as a reward, and punishment. After all, good whumpees deserve good things, and bad ones do not, right?

I would definitely find it endearing, though. I also personally greatly enjoy nature, so I wouldn't dare keep someone else away from it.

Or would I?

How would they fare in a basement, with no windows, but a green little corner? If I gave them pots, and water, and a lamp and seeds, and let them keep a sliver of sanity through it? Take it away when they're bad, bring it back in when good. Take them upstairs on a leash, sit them under a window and let the sun shine. A short walk around back if they've been extra sweet.

Strange. With how often you come here, I'd have assumed you do, in fact, want to cry. To be hurt.

🫀

The bittersweet taste of tears falling when a whumpee feels the sun's warmth through a window they can't open.

🫀

I hate how I can‘t tell anymore what part is me and what part is your doing. Where my being and thoughts begin and your conditioning ends. I don‘t want to be so co-dependent on you, so desperate for whatever you give me, pain or gentle touch. Because it feels normal, because you feel normal. It shouldn’t. I can never trust my own decisions, that its me who wants them.

Yet you seem addicted to me as well, in a way.

Please let me. Please fix me, I want to be me. Please let me go…(figurative)

Broken thing. Conditioning, or nature?

I won't say it's in your nature to want me, but perhaps someone. Is your love and admiration expressed through anything but devotion?

Sorry, dove, that was a trick question. For you, it's neither love nor admiration. It's desperation.

Here's how I see it. I am the stability you so desperately need. Your sense of self has been beaten down, perhaps by me, perhaps by yourself, perhaps by the world. I'd think it's all three. However, that leaves you so agonizingly empty, doesn't it?

Doesn't it hurt like nothing else to be alone? The pain of not truly feeling anything by yourself, as you can only truly experience the world through someone else?

Pain given by someone else feels better than the one you give yourself. You don't have the spine you so desire, and you don't have the means to try either. But I am here, regardless. I am here. And I will hurt you, but you will not be alone. You cannot be alone.

Oh, there'd be quite the difference for sure.

As you know, I tend to love skittish little things. It's sweet, in a sense. I can dominate them fully, through fear and sparse kindness, and they will eat it up.

I like the easiness of it, the laziness almost. To someone that's so prone to complying, there is no fight. My word is always law, but to them it could be everything. It's so easy to hurt someone like that.

However... The faux confidence of a defiant, stoic, "unbreakable" whumpee does draw me in a bit more. Makes me think, gets me engaged. I love the fight. Finding what pushes their buttons, what breaks them, what they are willing to endure and for what reasons - it's wonderful.

I'd treat a compliant whumpee as my dear little pet. Tell them what to do, bully them a bit, offer affection every now and then. Maybe try and force them to be a bit more independent, see how they struggle with that.

But I would fight with a defiant one. Not necessarily physically, but I'd strip them of their independence in every way I can and see how they crumble. See how their bravado evolves and adapts.

(Forgot I didn't do anon, so it makes no sense to do so this time XD)

Torn in-between forcing them to realize what I'm doing, or keeping things that way.

Sure, I could keep getting worse, press them, see them squirm under the weight of their own false hopes, but also - I could break that illusion.

I could take their face in my hands and gently explain it, test how deep their desperation goes. Let them argue, until their words and resolve crumble. Watch them fall apart, sob until it feels like their chest is about to cave in.