I don’t believe in DNIs, but this blog’s content is mostly SFW (if violence and gore can be considered safe for work, lmao). The occasional nsfwhump will be tagged as such.
About me: Zipper (they/them), 20s, aro-ace
I take writing commissions! Find my commission sheet here!
My writing tag is #zipwrites. My current-ish projects are The Ol’ Ball and Chain, The New Roux, and On the Wing. Everything I post is some form of rough draft. Some go through more variations than others.
Archive of my writing: thezipperzone.blogspot.com
More about me n’ my blog under the cut!
Likes: lab whump, medical whump, hero and villain whump, dehumanization, kidnapping, captivity, pet whump.
Squicks: nsfw, cannibalism (please don’t ask me about these things)
My archived (unfinished, no longer being updated) whump series are The Animal I’ve Become, The Apprentice, Roux & Ambrose, and Box Bastards.
I usually tag trigger warnings with the “tw” after the content (ex: “blood tw”), or with the word “whump” after it (ex: “medical whump). I trigger tag my writing more than reblogs; you can expect to see/read gore and violence here, though, and if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to unfollow or block me.
Feel free to send me asks or talk to me about whump stuff! Especially lab whump!
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“if you love this character then you must make her happy in your fics, right?” wrong. the horror. suffering. internal hemorrhage. hospital. immediately
im sorry but i couldnt disagree more. if having fun with your characters diminishes the 'quality' of your work then maybe thats not a bad thing. im glad youre having fun with your ocs
I feel like this is written by someone who doesn't understand the character driven approach.
I would have agreed years ago, but it's not necessarily like that!
You play with your OC, explore, interrogate them. You figure out their goals. Themes will come organically.
You don't have to force a theme, you can look at your story and your character arc and the dynamics that they have with others and the world. Then, once you recognize the theme, you can get more finnicky and tweak things to make it cleaner and more effective and all that. It's not wrong to start from character!
yeah the OOP was just being an asshole in that post. i think it's not inaccurate to say that endlessly developing your OCs vs. writing a ready-to-publish story are two very different skillsets, but they're not mutually exclusive either, and some writers don't have the goal of being published anyway.
the character driven approach is wonderful for some writers, myself included! i swear, if i was forced to begin every story process with themes and "goals" (not even sure what OOP meant by that) before i even had a single character, i would be miserable and never finish a single story.
(also, the idea that your story will be Morally And Objectively Good if you have a vague, nebulous theme before sitting down to write but not like. a premise? a plot? a decent grasp on how to write prose? is laughable.)
TL;DR: that person's just mad because they're not having any fun.
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Whumpee has only ever experienced sex as a painful, violent assault, so when they're hanging out with some friends and hear one of them tease someone they're gossiping about for apparently crying during sex, Whumpee is confused. Who wouldn't cry? It hurts. But when Whumpee says this to the group, suddenly they are the confused ones because "That's not normal Whumpee. What the fuck kinda sex have you been having?"
one the others is smirking, raising an eyebrow like they think it's a joke - like whumpee is doing some kinky stuff and playing innocent about it. but friend doesn't think that's it. whumpee's face isn't full of mischief or innuendo. they just look... uncomfortable and confused. it hurts, they'd said. about sex. sex hurts. who wouldn't cry?
like that was normal. like they had experience, and that experience involved pain. enough pain to cry.
"why are you looking at me like that?" whumpee asks. they seem embarrassed, like they regret saying anything. "does nobody talk about that part? we were talking about sex before, why are you... stop looking at me like that!"
"what do you mean it hurts?" friend asks. they wave the others quiet. they're not helping. if whumpee thinks they're being judged, this is just going to get worse. "do you mean like-"
"i mean every time i've had sex it's been painful and horrible and i've just gritted my teeth and got through it! and now you're all looking at me like i'm crazy, and it-"
"you're not crazy," friend says. they feel bad for interrupting, but whumpee was starting to breathe quick and shallow. "i just- we're worried. it's not- unless people talk about it first, and they want that, it's not supposed to hurt. if it hurts. you should talk to the person you're sleeping with so you can figure out how to make it better, so they can touch you how you want."
whumpee laughs. it's sudden and sharp. "how i want? that's not how it works. if it was about what i wanted, it wouldn't happen at all."
a cold chill of realization sweeps through the small group all at once.
Handler caring for Living Weapon as if they were any other tool
Washing and braiding their hair. More intricate braids to show off how compliant LW is
Ending training early because Handler knows where LWs limits are better than LW does.
LW gets hurt, and Handler fights anyone trying to send them back out into the field before they're fully healed up
Manhandling LW, showing a colleague all their specialties, comparing it with someone elses LW
Finding a new bruise on LW that they didn't put there and demanding to know where it came from. Punishing LW for not taking better care of themselves, don't they know how valuable they are?
"My last one was bigger but this one is so much faster."
Buying new "accessories" to make LW more lethal, brass knuckles, new knives, etc
Some of those accessories are surgical enhancements.
Piercings as accessories or badges showing Handlers accomplishments
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CW: past pet whump (BBU-esque), internalised dehumanisation, vaguely implied dubcon
Outside the train, pinpoint lights glimmered as they sailed past: colourful billboards, winter decorations, and warm glowing windows soon giving way to solitary streetlights, dotted beside the rail line. Beyond the lights stretched only darkness. If they stared long enough, Whumpee could just barely make out flat empty ground: huge lawns, bordered by unruly trees. They kept staring. They needed all the information they could get, and there were no rules about windows. There had been no windows to set rules about.
Occasionally, they swept a deliberately languid gaze around the half-empty carriage, but for the most part they just kept an ear out. They sat pretty, back straight and shoulders down, pretending fervently that the seat beneath them was an Owner's lap. This was an entirely new invisibility, but poise, performance, that they knew. The only sign of the tension wracking their body was how their neatly folded hands bit into one another, white-knuckled.
The train was mostly quiet, at this hour. Whumpee had hidden a long time, watching the people. Waiting, until the place was deserted enough that they could slip out of their hiding spot unseen, but not too deserted to dart through the little gates on a traveler's heels, entirely aware that they were transgressing and so sick with adrenaline they could barely stay on their feet. The man had been displeased, but he hadn't seen through their façade, shaky though it must have been - hadn't called for their Mistress or animal control. They made it, and here was their reward: soaring lights and one step closer to [Name].
Okay, they'd chosen the train at random. They couldn't read the maps, and they hadn't overheard mention of [Name]'s city. But it was better this way. Harder to track. Any step away from repossession was a step closer to [Name].
Their plan - inasmuch as the screaming animal terror urging them to run, run, hide! counted as a plan - was to put as much distance between themself and the house as they could, then lay low until the inevitable hunt blew over. Then... then get their bearings, and make a better plan. They had vague, romantic ideas of stowing away, or pretending again to be a person and hitch-hiking the hundreds of kilometers to [Name]. Darker thoughts, ways to trade for their passage - they would if they had to. Of course, only humans could drive a bargain. Whumpee raised their chin and felt another wave of gratitude for the immaculately groomed hair that cascaded down far past the nape of their neck, covering the barcode.
A murmur from the carriage behind them drew Whumpee's attention. Words, detached and repetitive. They caught "thank you," and "ticket".
They didn't have a ticket, and they didn't want to interact with any humans, not if they could help it.
Whumpee stood gracefully, thankful that they hadn't taken the coat off, and walked into the next carriage with their heart thumping. This was pretty obviously avoiding a punishment, but they caught one suspicious look and nothing more. Nowhere to hide, not that they'd been expecting much - but one of the people here was also standing, slinging a bag over her shoulder. Whumpee barely had time to wonder why before a robotic voice answered their question.
The next stop is: [Village]. Don't forget to check out on the platform.
Looked like [Village] was as far as they were getting tonight.
When the train rolled to a stop, Whumpee stepped out onto a small, single platform, an oasis of dim yellow light. Beyond the glow rose the shadows of low buildings, intercut by a thin road. On the other end of the platform, those massive lawns rolled out into featureless black. Whumpee made the mistake of looking up and was struck dizzy once more by the expansive sky, now a depthless matte dark, rich as velvet.
The train, with its prying eyes, hurtled away, and Whumpee was alone. The woman who had disembarked was disappearing towards the town. Towards warmth, light, food. People. Cameras.
Whumpee bundled the stolen coat around their shoulders and headed in the opposite direction, until the dark swallowed them up.
if youve had enough bad experiences with medical professionals and have a troubled enough relationship with autonomy and intimacy even the blood pressure cuff can feel invasive
Imagine you're dating a fallen angel. And she only recently fell. And she has a cute petite body like a doll, and big brown eyes that you love to look into, and shiney black hair that feels good to pet, and beautiful blue wings with golden eyes on them. And she just fell, so she's still kind of upset, and is still kind of afraid of what the world will think of someone like her.
Angels aren't built to be loved, they're built to serve a purpose. She was told all her life, that her desires, her wants, aren't what mattered. She was told she was selfish for wanting things, that her entire value came from what she could give for other people. Angels aren't built to need protection, to want affection, or to be anyone's favorite, or something special to anyone. But now that part of her life is over, now she's on earth, and she doesn't have a job to do, and there are people who love her.
So you try to make sure she knows that she is special to you. That you love her not for the work that she does but for the person that she is. She can't really have a job because she's in danger of overworking herself, you don't even want her doing chores in your apartment because you know how easily she can hurt herself in the name of doing the best job possible. You have to reassure her that you are there for her, and that she is doing enough, and that she deserves to rest. She's been through so much, she needs to spend time just laying down on your bed, being comfy and having things brought to her. And you and your freinds need to spend a lot of time cuddling her, and petting her pretty wings, because she needs to know that she's loved, because she was created to be unloved. She spent so much time only being allowed to do things that served a greater purpose, and only being given the things she needed to fulfill task, you need to make sure she understands that she deserves to have things because she wants them, and to do things because she wants to, because she's special and there are people who want her to be happy now.
Before she fell she was told all sorts of things about fallen angels that she was made to believe. She was told they were fundamentally scary and dangerous. She was told about how they would inevitably hurt humans, and how they tried to manipulate people into loving them. And she was told about how they need help, and how they all secretly or unsecretly want to stop being fallen. And now all those horrible ideas are things she thinks about whenever she wants love or she feels happiness. All of that fear and hatred she had for fallen angels before she fell is now something she feels about herself. She's afraid she'll hurt people because she was told that things like her hurt people, and she was told she'll never truly cam feel happy again living the way she does, and she's so very worried it's true. So she needs you to remind her that she's a good person, and that she's able to live a good and enjoyable life here. And even when it's separate from the angelic society she grew up in, she still feels guilty so easily, like when demons, or fae, or other entities talk about how oppressive angels are it's easy for her to feel guilty. And it's important to tell her that she's a good person, and that it's not her fault.
She was raised to be such a specific thing, this stoic powerful thing, that does its work, and doesn't get upset, and she was raised to feel humiliated at the idea of being anything else. So seeing herself all vulnerable on your bed, wearing pretty little dresses, and not helping anyone but herself, is so antithetical to what she was told was what she wanted to be. She wasn't even meant to be a she, there aren't female angels, but now that she's free, she's likes being a girl. And sometimes she feels like she can't be enough of a girl for you, with so much trauma, and needing so much care, and her blank sexless body, and you need to make sure she knows how great it is to love her, and how happy you are to have someone like her in your life.
She's learning to be free, and to enjoy life. She was never anyone's daughter, never a little girl, never really innocent. So you need to make up for lost time with her. You take her to different neighborhoods, because she loves exploring the city with you. And you take her on trips to meusums and to the aquarium. And you got her a doll, because she never got to be a child with one, and even though she's not something innocent, even though she's something so very adult with so many adult taboos and fears in her life, she can still enjoy that doll as if she was small. She's getting to experiment with clothing and makeup for the first time, and getting to see how she actually wants to look. And she's even starting to draw and paint, and getting to read books and watch movies that she once wasn't allowed to. And you're getting to see her become someone she enjoys being, and it's so lovely getting to see someone like her finally enjoy that.
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y'know i used to be on team "whump is kind of a silly word and i wish it was called something different," but these days i think i'm more on the side of "the word 'whump' is a rent-lowering gunshot."
the concept of fictional characters being harmed is a universal storytelling device enjoyed by people outside of the whump community, for sure, but the word "whump" sounding as silly as it does can be a deterrent to people who take themselves maybe a tad too seriously. like almost nobody involves themselves in this community on a whim just because they heard the word "whump" and said to themselves "that sounds very cool and i almost definitely know what it means just from this one instance that i've heard it."
