My Little Whump Art Corner

“Hey, you alright, kid?”

“I’m sorry, I know, I know it hurts, just breathe, okay? Just hold on.”

“I didn’t think you’d come back for me.”

“Shh, go back to sleep.”

”Hold them down!”

“What have you done?”

“I’m scared, I—”

“Can you stay?”

“Get out of here! Go!”

“You can’t hide shit like this from me!”

“I don’t want to lose you…”

The pain of transformation, it can go on for as long as you want. The death of the body is something that can be immediate or very slow and visceral. Imagine Whumpee's teeth falling out one by one over days, getting replaced with razor sharp new ones. Imagine them coughing up liters upon liters of stale blood and innards because their body is rejecting itself.

(And of course there's the turning itself, which is almost always a form of symbolic rape. At the very least it's a loss of autonomy.)

There's also the mental rejection, refusing to drink blood, refusing to be a monster, starving oneself until you're too blood crazed to understand why you're doing it.

And of course, my favorite, when the sire is involved. I love the control that a Sire!Whumper can exert over Fledgling!Whumpee. They can force Whumpee to drink blood against their will, to do anything really. How much Whumpee can actually resist their commands is up to you.

you punch nazis!

they feel infantilized. after all, they went through so much completely on their own, and they managed to escape just fine, right? they've always bandaged their own wounds, cried alone; they've never had anyone else to comfort them before, so why would they need anyone to take care of them now?

it feels like when they were with whumper. their freedom, stripped away from them, forced to fit into perfect little boxes and a routine and rules and it's stifling; they just want to do what they want. they don't need caretaker.

they have so much less freedom than an adult whumpee would have in recovery. less choice. they need someone else to make medical decisions for them. they've been forced to grow up much too fast but now they're being treated like the child they're not.

The guard dog -> loyalty has been ingrained into their bones, following their handler around like their shadow. No one dares stand against the organization because of the legendary dread surrounding this living weapon. They hardly say a word but every movement is calculated, eyes always darting, always watching. (“You always were their lapdog.”)

The loose cannon -> dangerous for both sides. Always talking back and never predictable, their value is dependent on their skill. If it wasn’t for that, they’d be dead a long time ago. Their loyalty is earned, not bought. No one wants to be on their bad side, walking on tip toe whenever they show up. And they enjoy it. (“What’s everyone looking at? Aren’t you happy to see me? I even brought my rifle!”)

The broken down -> most common type of whumpee I’ve seen. They’ve been overpowered and forced into the commission. They hate their handler more than anything else but see no way out. When they’re told to shoot, they don’t even blink. It’s always “yes, sir” this and “yes, sir” that. If they feel any sympathy, they don’t show it. They’ll do anything to avoid punishment and flinch at quick movements. Nothing they face on the field is worse than the cards they’ve been dealt. (“I understand, sir/ ma’am. I-I’m sorry.”)

The dissenter -> Usually recruited into the organization or joined as a last ditch option. Not necessarily against using their abilities or skill, they just hate being told what to do. As time goes on and their disobedience is punished over and over again, they grow reluctant. Bitter. With every order, they slip in a snarky comment. Roll their eyes. Anything to assert their own identity. Or what’s left of it. (“ah ah ah, you didn’t think i’d notice? The middle finger was a bit much. I’m afraid it will have to go.”)

- whumpee being overstimulated by sensory stimuli - bright lights, loud/repetitive sounds, being touched, certain smells - and wincing or shrinking down to get away from it

- unresponsive whumpee who doesn’t give a crap anymore. theyd let someone push them over and theyd just topple to the side and lay there. they don’t respond to goodwill attempts to help, like having a bowl of warm food placed in front of them. they’ve checked out.

- familiar/casual whumpees - whumpees who are familiar with being treated a certain way so they don’t put up much of a fuss to being spit on or kicked. Just groan and move on with your day (could work rly well with ‘living weapon’ i feel)

- whumpees with collars!!!! it’s too dang good. especially if it’s a shock collar and they’re afraid to speak for fear of getting zapped. Bottom line is, you are property.

- whumpee being treated like a child and getting really pissed about it. bonus if the whumper has to resort to some atypical child behavior remedies to keep whumpee in their ‘role’ - such as chains, drugs, etc

- whumpee who refuses to part with an object, such as a mask, and freaks out if anyone so much as touches it.

- caretaker removing masks or collars when the time is right - only to catch whumpee wearing it again in fear or for comfort

- whumpees hands shaking so badly they can’t write or pick things up, and breaking things because their fine motor control is so horribly shot

- whumpee’s injuries being discovered by a group of caretaker friends; whumpee attempts to minimize and de escalate the damage they endured, while friend group is getting bent out of shape in horror over what was done to whumpee, and falling over each other to begin taking care of them

- whumpee being resuscitated and immediately leaping back into action without a thought to the fact that they just DIED; caretaker friend trying to get them to slow down and rest for one freaking second

- ANY kind of retrograde amnesia is soooo tasty. Especially when they don’t remember people they love and just stare at them with a blankly polite smile - OR whumpees who become aggressive with fear over not remembering anything!!

— “can… can i have a hug? please?”

— “oh, sweetheart- come here.”

— “how long has it been since someone hugged you?”

— “just hold me.”

— “is this okay?”

— “we don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to. we can just sit here together until you feel up to anything else.”

— “can i hug you? you look like you could do with it.”

— “are you blushing?! that’s adorable.”

— “it’s okay, baby, just let it all out. i’ve got you, i promise.”

— “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.”

— “please, never apologise for wanting to be loved.”

— “you don’t need to earn my affection, not now and not ever.”

— “i’m never more at peace than i am in your arms.”

— “not that i think cuddling will fix everything, but i’m pretty sure it can’t make things worse.”

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

If you voted for Trump AT ALL. Get the fuck off my blog. Unfollow me immediately.

I don’t care why you did it and I’m not gonna bother explaining myself to you, because as long as I have rights, I will execute them.