@mostlydeadallday / mostlydeadallday.tumblr.com
Whump culture is getting too stressed by Extremely Simple IRL Task and escaping into a maladaptive daydream about being shackled to a radiator that’s slowly burning into the throbbing fresh lash marks on your back.
Much preferable.
kink blogs reblogging my whump stuff with tags that make it clear they're imagining all of it as consensual 🤝 me reblogging kink content imagining it as whumpy and nonconsensual
whump and kink are chained together by their collars making out sloppy style
I think we as a community underestimate how truly terrifying it is to be stuck/restrained, and the panic response that comes with it. I got my hand lodged in a tight place, and while it was very simple to get it unstuck, it wasn't as easy as a simple slip. It was scary just to have my hand stuck of my own actions, while knowing how to get it unstuck.
So imagine the terror that ensues when it's your entire body, restrained by someone who wants to do you harm. Plus, the panic that comes as as result causes you to pull or fight against whatever it is that has you, which is painful. Trying to tug and force your way out of a situation will only cause you to hurt and become even more panicked when it doesn't work. Just. We need to describe that terror more I think.
One of my favorites 🥰
shout out to impaling frfr. get pinned by the elements. you cannot move because the moment you cry out for help, every part of your body is going to recognize the foreign object neatly tucked into your ribs and the ground beneath your back. the only reason you're still alive is the same thing that's going to kill you, the same thing that hurts so, so much.
and if you do survive? the literal hole in your chest doesn't scar easy. the remnants of wood chips in your bloodstream can make you sick on top of immobilized. the recovery's harder than the initial pinning. get ready for a long, hard ride, whumpee.
i like my whumpees STRONG. some notable ones as follows:
leader whumpees. constantly thinking, constantly moving. they've a team to organize. they're relied on constantly, and with a head and shoulders strong enough to handle the pressure. but the shame when they're hurt. the agony knowing their image as undaunted is tarnished. and love returned tenfold as their team holds them up as long as they need to--"You're not alone, Boss. we got you. let us help."
protector whumpees. reckless thoughts to throw themselves in front of danger because they can take the hit, but no one else can. scars and muscles and training and taking it upon themselves to wear each broken piece with pride because it's another person they saved. until one day, they nearly do die. and it takes the whole team to remember they're not a meatshield. they're a person.
medic whumpees. they know how to hold a suture needle better than anyone; they know the dose of morphine to take after a bone is set; they know what angle to press a hand in while checking for broken ribs. no one else does, though. so when they're finally beat into submission, it doesn't matter how much pain they're in, because they have to stay awake, stay calm, and keep their inexperienced caretaker steady, while they talk through each movement done on their own body.
my work for @artwhumpersanonymous 's exchange event, a gift for @just-a-silly-little-whumper! this was SO fun to draw, esp Altair's hair (◡‿◡)
[ID in alt]
okay but do you ever think about the inherit twisted intimacy of torture?
two people spending hours together, lost in the same process. fingers on your skin. the only voice you hear for days on end. the only presence you know. the closeness of having your skin be torn apart under their fingers. having another understand perfectly just how much pain you're in. having to rely on them to treat your wounds, being you water and food so you survive and heal. cry before them, break and have your every emotion on display. having them turn into your whole world.
do you get it?
and then -- the way the torturer can use it as another tool.
torture that leans into intimacy. hands stroking your hair as your warm blood pours out of you. soft whispers urging you to stay awake when the pain is overwhelming. strong arms holding you as you cry, those same arms holding you down as you thrush from agony. suddenly gentle fingers pulling your skin back together because you need to heal before you can take more. having your begging be answered with words of comfort that don't stop the torture. waking up to their gentle smile before the pain begins anew. hearing your name on their lips. taking all the comfort from someone who hurts you, because that's the only comfort you'd ever get.
or -- torture that is clinically, intentionally devoid of intimacy. no questions, no words spoken. the only touch you feel is that of the blade and the thick gloves. not being allowed to see their face. knowing no matter how much you beg not a single word of yours will be acknowledged. never being addressed until you forget that you're still a person. being trapped in a hell with not an ounce of comfort. isolation while still seeing someone daily.
or -- a torturer that combines the two. that goes from all the intimacy to none if you do something wrong or if their mood changes. they come in in gloves and you cry and beg to be acknowledged. constant anxiety from not knowing what kind of day it'd be. getting used to their hands closing your wounds before they're gone. breaking down and trying to do your best to fix whatever mistake you've made to have it back. getting used to no skin contact until they take off the gloves. flinching away from touch as if it burns only to immediately lean in. twisted gratitude when they hug you. always fearing losing what little comfort they give you.
you get it, right?
A character who can only lie in a specific position- having been flogged and needing to lie on their stomach with their back a flayed-open mess; propped semi-reclining up on pillows the better to breathe through wheezing congestion or take pressure off injured ribs; only able to sleep on a certain side in order to keep a wounded arm uppermost; confined to their back due to cumbersome bulky splints or bandages or to the need to keep a leg elevated; and so on...
hand-shaped bruises. bracelets of finger imprints on wrists, branded on shoulders or throats or hips. the lack of plausible deniability. the way anyone seeing it can tell something Happened. someone who cares sees it and there’s no hiding the ongoing whump anymore. the photographs memorializing it. the moment a sleeve slips and a friend or coworker or roommate asks “whoa, what happened?”
just. the obviousness of it. the distinctness of it. hand-shaped bruises my beloved.
Thinking about whumpers and whumpees and the intimacy of stabbing. The inherent intimacy of the act.
Whumpers who lean into whumpees as they drive the knife in... The slight resistance then give somewhere soft and vulnerable... Does the whumper whisper something into whumpee's ear? Are they silent? Do they take note of the way whumpee's breath hitches, or the warmth of their body heat radiating from where the hilt of the knife kisses the skin? Do they savor the blood leaking out onto their knuckles and between their fingers, or does it disgust them?
Do they hold whumpee close in mock comfort as they wait for them to pass out from pain/shock/blood loss? Do they hold them, hand fisted in their hair, for the express purpose of keeping them upright only to drop them, let them collapse at their feet?
Do they yank the knife out? Tighten their grip and hold it there to savor the feeling? Do they twist the blade? Bring the knife up and stab them again?
Whumpee trembling as they try to process what just happened, their brain not able to make sense of the pain just yet. Doubling over with a low gut-punched groan or barely there whimper when they do.
uh oh
Eleceed - ch 126
Pain, fear, sadness - these are at the core of whump, but anger holds an equally important place. I don't just mean defiance towards whumper as an aspect of the narrative, I mean rage itself as a source of suffering.
i love this because it could go in so many different directions.
what’s on the face? is it streaked with tears, sticky trails on the skin? is it bloodstained? is it sweaty from nightmares or bouts of fever?
how does caretaker clean it? can they do a good job, or do they just have their hand, smearing blood around and making it worse the more they try?
do they have a wet cloth? warm, to wipe at the dried tears, or maybe cool, to soothe whumpee’s flushed and sweaty skin?
is whumpee awake? do they gaze at caretaker gratefully, savoring this moment of comfort?
are they out of it — glazed eyes, parted lips, in the throes of pain or sickness, only distantly aware of the sensation of someone touching their face?
or are they completely unconscious? is caretaker taking advantage of whumpee’s brief respite to clean their skin?
Creatures from myths and fairytales all over the world, with the tails of fish and the upper bodies of people. They live in the ocean or other bodies of water. In some myths they're helpful to humans and in others they drown or even eat them. It varies by region.
Sunday: Muzzled - Dehydration - "I don't think I'll survive much longer like this, if I'm being honestly pessimistic."
Monday: Forced to Perform - Fishing Net - "Yeah, it's pretty alright, but can it sing?"
Tuesday: Dirty Water - Suffocation - "Stupid humans. I say, when I get my hands on them-"
Wednesday: Marine Research - Language Barrier - "What is it saying? Do you think it's trying to communicate with us?"
Thursday: Stranded on Land - Amputated Tail - "There is salt water in my gills. I didn't think it was possible to be in this much pain."
Friday: Clipped Vocal Cords - Discovery - "All I wanted to do was watch those stupid lights they put in the sky, and look where it got me."
Saturday: Too-Small Tank - Private Collection - "Please, I don't know what you want from me. But I want to- to go home. If that's alright. I can't stay here."
Have fun ♡♡♡
