Whumping Is Fun

Weapons. Trained, tested, forged in steel and fire. Failure is an inevitability that ends in death. Pain should not be felt--it should be recognized, familiar, and inconsequential

Martyrs. In the form of servants and princes, of leaders and underdogs. If blood is necessary, the martyr will lift their hands and offer it all

Shields. Like tempering a sword, but only to bear and not to lash out. Wounds are medals--not symbols of pride, but symbols of worth. A pretty shield is useless; scars mean a job well done

Experiments. Raised on the cold comfort of a lab table. Restraints are only necessary when they're not in their right mind. Is it honorable, to be twisted beyond recognition? Or is it just a necessary evil?

Monsters. Cruelty, caution, and regarding one as a creature beyond reasonable thought is tempering in its own right. But if you keep a leash at the right length, perhaps the massecre won't reach you. One can hope.

Idols. Pretty face, pretty name, pretty hands around their shoulders and throat. There to seduce, manipulate, force any feeling to come to the surface and twist it to their favor. Any genuinity stays locked behind the guilded cage that surrounds their pretty little heart

Trophies. Status and wealth and the traditions that keep someone at their heels, on their knees, to display and serve and decorate one's ballroom.

They lose a lot of weight, and their muscle mass diminishes. Old injuries that were originally nothing have started to ache tremendously, muscles never ending their whining. Then, Whumpee starts getting sick all the time, too, and spends a concerning amount of time bed-ridden. Even weapons have their limits, and they went past those a long time ago.

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.”)

Then they're captured/sold/etc. to an organization that's practical and (relatively speaking) reasonable. This group only inflicts punishments for defiance or avoidable failure. They properly use the overload principle, pushing the weapon to improve in increments that don't injure it, so recovery doesn't slow down progress. They're largely detached towards the weapon instead of angry or contemptuous. Discipline is rarely something that impedes its functioning for long, and when it is, the handlers adjust their expectations accordingly. There are rules for how handlers can treat the weapon to make sure it's used correctly.

Suddenly there's a win condition: if the weapon does as its supposed to, it can avoid the better part of potential pain and suffering. And the weapon is so glad and does its best and wouldn't trade this for anything. Of course, it's still a weapon and not a person, so it doesn't need any sort of comfort/enrichment/other "luxuries." But this group, unlike the first, sees no merit in treatment that will damage a working tool.

Weapon and Handler were recruited together, trained together (maybe even raised together, if they were recruited young enough). Their masters want to create a bond between the pair, and ensure that they have just as tight of control on each. Weapon and Handler cooperate flawlessly on missions, just as they've been trained to do. But there are so many different ways their relationship could crack or blossom.

Weapon and Handler are the only ones who see each other as people. While everyone around them treats them like objects, they have only each other to grow close to. They've seen each other at their lowest and gotten each other out of situations they might not have survived alone. When one has a nightmare, they don't have to explain, because the other has the same haunting memories.

They care about each other and take care of each other and are probably the only bright spot in each other's lives. "Probably", though, because it's not that simple.

Handler is responsible for Weapon in the literal sense, being in charge on missions after all. But how far does the responsibility go? Maybe Handler is in charge at the facility too, treated by their masters as if they're Weapon's superior and given extra privileges. Does this dynamic lead to resentment from Weapon? Or does Weapon see through it and remember that Handler is in the same predicament as them? Does Handler crave the approval of their masters, trying to act like they're better than Weapon in the hope of earning more favor? Or does Handler try to use what little influence they have to help and protect Weapon?

With responsibility, comes blame. Handler is blamed for Weapon's mistakes and for things that go wrong on missions, even if it was truly no one's fault, and punished accordingly. Their masters say that it's Handler's job to keep things running smoothly, to keep Weapon under control. But how is blame perceived within the duo? Does Handler internalize the guilt or get frustrated with Weapon for not being perfect? Does Weapon tear themselves apart for being the reason for Handler's pain? And maybe sometimes Weapon is punished directly for their mistakes. What do these circumstances look like?

Is Handler ever expected to punish Weapon?

Is Weapon jealous that Handler is never expected to be in the thick of their battles, working from the sidelines without risking injury or staining their conscience?

They're running from something, something they desperately want to escape, but no matter what they do, something about them simply shines too brightly for them to be able to hide. They do everything they can to douse that Light, keep themself starved, exhausted, and always moving, but it still shines through, and they're always terrified it'll lead the things they're running from right to them. They're scared of ever being happy or healthy, of ever taking care of themself, because if they shine any brighter they'll be putting themself, and potentially other people in danger.

(putting the rest under a cut, I've got a lot of thoughts here)