@robins-whump / robins-whump.tumblr.com
All of the drabbles right here in approximate order chronologically:
First Arc (Captured):
Escape and Freedom:
Christmas With Charlie
Interrogated Part 2
Recaptured:
Pain and Painkillers
Future fic:
Some of these don’t have links because I haven’t posted them yet, so keep an eye out for them!
I have donated $25 to the PCRF and I recommend them as a four-star rated charity. I don't want to get into any discourse about Israel/Palestine so don't come into my dms with opinions. But terrible things are happening to Palestinians in the Gaza strip, especially children. Here's the link to donate: https://www.pcrf.net/. If there's another charity you trust more it would also be great to donate there, I also recommend the UNRWA. Reblog with your donation!
WRU has hired renowned behaviorist Dr. Ivan Peters to refine their training protocol for Romantic acquisitions. When Jack Kenyon–the brilliant young partner of one of Ivan’s med school rivals–applies to be Dr. Peters’ research assistant, he has no idea what he’s signing on for.
Please see individual chapters for detailed and specific content warnings. This story will contain noncon elements [*]; proceed with caution!
-/-/-
part one: jack and ivan at dinner
part two: jack and joe, before captivity
part three: jack's abduction
part four: ivan welcomes to jack to captivity
part five: worries for joe, bath time for jack
part six: jack's intake interview (part one)
part seven: jack's intake interview (part two)
part eight: past, present, and future
part nine: breakfast time
part ten: jack learns his positions
part eleven: jack's consequences*
part twelve: ivan's apology
part thirteen: jack's last chance to feel*
part fourteen: joe and his mother
part fifteen: prelude to punishment
part sixteen: jack's first treatment*
part seventeen: deprivation
part eighteen: jack loses joe
-/-/-
behavior modification post-rescue content: organized in rough chronological order
just after: small decisions
drabble: joe sees ivan's videos
early recovery: bittersweet
starting over: undone
drabble: press conference blues
first time after: lightning glass
baby drabble: corduroy bear
years later, with their child: lucky
kid-related drabble: lemonade stand
-/-/-
role reversal alternate universe:
part one: sweetheart
part two: open *
part three: filled*
part four: initiation*
part five: better*
post-rescue drabble: the blanket is warm
post-rescue drabble: nightmares
Updated to include all the fun drabbles and otherwise that I've been doing lately!
The Blackmuir Reign: Therrin Blackmuir and Saxon Osier- As You Always Have
CW: implied violence and kidnapping
-
Therrin Blackmuir had grown distant in Saxon’s mind these months apart— more of a Therrin-shaped figure in a crown than the boy he’d grown up beside. Now that he was in the same room with him, Therrin looked just like he always had. Except he had ashes from the fire down in the bailey in his wavy pale hair. His eyes were somber and bore dark circles, and he did not wear his customary smile,
“I wish I could tell you being King looked good on you,” Saxon said, sitting on the bench and pulling off his boot.
Therrin looked at him in open disbelief. “Are you joking, right now?”
Saxon shrugged. “It wasn’t a very good joke.”
Therrin opened his mouth to speak twice before he could decide on words. “I— I know how this looks, Saxon. But he was here. Matteo was here, with me.”
Saxon pulled off his other boot, brushing dirt from the road from his sock.
He hadn’t heard his little brother's name from Therrin’s mouth in years. It felt strange now, Therrin speaking of him alive. It felt strange to be in the Muirkeep. It felt strange to look at Therrin and know he was King. A deep ache had lived in his chest ever since he’d heard of his brother’s alleged death. It echoed every time it heard his name, like rocks thrown down a chasm.
He set his boot next to the other. He hadn’t taken them off in three days, and his legs felt light and strange now without them. The table they sat at was smooth from years of oil and elbows. The room was typical of this grim northerly castle, dark and decorated only in faded tapestry. The narrow windows let in a bleak grey dawnlight, so unlike the golden-orange sunrises of home.
“I don’t doubt you,” he said.
Therrin glanced at him, guarded. “…You don’t?”
“Of course not, Your Grace.”
“Please,” Therrin muttered, putting his head in his hands like it hurt him. “Not you, too. I feel like I’m in a dream and I can’t wake. Call me as you always have.”
Saxon stood, rounding the table to sit backwards on the bench where Therrin sat, their thighs nearly touching. He almost laid a hand on Therrin’s knee, under the table. He laid it on his own thigh instead. Something was not the same, between them. He didn’t feel the sting of betrayal so freshly or so personally as when he’d first learned of Therrin’s coup, but there was a barrier where once there had been none. They were unsure of each other.
Yet he couldn’t look at Therrin without thinking about how he had not known how to swim when he’d come south as their ward, until Saxon taught him. How they’d waded out deeper and deeper until their feet didn’t touch and Therrin grabbed at Saxons elbows, laughing nervously. He thought of the twin dips on Therrin’s lower back, the ones he’d ghosted his fingers over every time he’d inexpertly treated raised pink welts from the canings.
And now that your whipping boy has become King, his father had said in one of his rare lucid moments, You are talking of going to him? To meet him on his terms, in his own land?
Yes.
“I believe you, Therrin. Stop this.”
Therrin laughed bitterly, dragging his hands away from his face. “I’ve thought of nothing else for a week. I wanted to see your face when you saw him.”
The ache of grief thrummed inside him like a plucked string. “I still want that. We can’t sit here in inaction too long. We have to go after him.”
“Do you think Lord Burns is bold enough to take Matteo to his own keep?” Therrin asked, suddenly Kinglike and indignant. “He knows I’ll raze it to the fucking ground as soon as look at it.”
Therrin’s fierceness caught him off guard. Fierceness for Matteo.
“I don’t know. I don’t know these people.”
Therrin huffed. “Neither do I, I’m finding.”
Saxon wondered who the big, red-bearded brute of a Knight was that had given him such a dirty look earlier, but that would come later. He was in a strange land full of strangers. Everyone knew the King.
“We can’t sit idle,” Saxon said, trying to keep the entreaty out of his voice. Therrin was King, they would do whatever Therrin wanted. He had all the resources. The men. The power. “We have to find out where they took Mattie. What they want. How to get him back.”
Therrin’s eyes were far away, fixed on a dark corner of the room. He blinked, dragged them back to Saxon’s. “We need Lord Burns himself.”
“And we don’t need to raze an entire keep to get him,” Saxon said softly. “In fact it might be best to keep it low profile. Find him. Bring him here. Question him. Find my brother.”
Therrin nodded slowly. “How many men should we take? How many horses?”
Saxon couldn’t help but smile. Though his eyes stayed weary, Therrin gave him a tentative half smile back.
Then a shadow crossed Saxon’s mind, one that had haunted him on the long ride north. “Thank you,” he said, keeping his voice low, as if someone were listening at the solar door.
Therrin’s brow creased. “For what?”
“For taking care of him. A lesser man would have delighted in revenge.”
Therrin tilted his head, gave him a reproachful look. “Don’t say that to me,” he muttered.
“No. It’s true. I’m in your debt.”
Therrin looked at his hands, rubbing a gray smear of ash from his knuckles.
“We’re in each other’s, then,” he said with a barely-there shrug. “We always have been.”
-
I'm obsessed with them <3
Go and read the pinned post @the-whumpers-soiree for context!
No warnings apply (yet <3)
Autumn cold bit at his cheeks, frozen hands tucked under his armpits. Levi shifted on his feet, waiting in the alley just beyond the reach of thumping music and flashing lights. The heaving roar of the club strained from behind the door, and between him and hot, pumping bodies was an immovable bouncer.
Ugh, the line was barely ten people. It shouldn’t be taking this long.
It had seemed pretty exclusive, from what Jason had told him. To be fair, Jason wasn’t exactly a reliable source of information. Just gave him the address and a guarantee he’d be let in. For Levi, who had just spent some of the best years of his life hiding from a literal plague…
Well, he didn’t need much convincing.
But finally at the front of the line, Levi flashed an ID at the bouncer, hands shaking from cold and adrenaline. His ID said twenty-two and he could totally pass for it – when he wasn’t wearing a sheer top and eyeliner.
The bouncer barely glanced at his ID before handing it back.
“Wrist.”
Levi held out a wrist, cool olive skin glowing green against the neon welcome sign above the door.
The bouncer snapped on a glowing blue wristband from a large box. Behind it, a much emptier basket held red wristbands.
Levi inspected the new accessory. “What’s this for?”
The bouncer gave him a bored stare. All Levi could see reflected in the man’s dark shades was his own gelled-back hair and bright, feverish eyes.
The invite said sober entry only. Just looking at the girls who went in front of him he could see that was a fucking lie.
“Just club policy.”
He went to push past the bouncer – it really was fucking cold – but an iron grip on his wrist stopped him.
“I’ll also need your phone.”
“Uhh,” Levi tried to stall. “Like, really?”
“Really,” the bouncer said flatly.
“What if I need to call someone?” Which, you know, could be better done over text.
“Then come back outside and get it.”
He leaned in with a flirtatious grin. “Why all the secrecy? Is this the kind of club where you don’t want pictures?”
A flash of white teeth hid the undercurrent of tension straining his voice. Jason told him this place was a bit weird. Levi was thinking more twinks in collars kind of weird, not taking-your-phone-until-you-leave kind of weird.
He much preferred the former.
The security guard’s expression didn’t change. “Something like that.” he agreed.
Levi flashed another smile. “Well, alrighty then. He fished his phone out of his back pocket and reluctantly handed it over. He was not gonna let weird club rules ruin his night.
The bouncer slipped the phone into one of his many pockets.
“Right this way.”
Finally, finally, the door opened, and the heat, the light, the thumping bass all washed over him. The bouncer nudged him forward, and when he looked back a moment later, the door was closed behind him.
Levi found himself pushed into a writhing crowd, a sea of limbs and half-naked sweating bodies. Glowing blue wristbands bobbed with the music, but there were a fair few red wristbands too. Some, in among the crowd, others, standing back, watching.
He let himself be pulled further in. he danced with a girl, with a boy, kissed them both and slunk away before either could try to give him their number. Danced with a third, until they were pulled away by someone in a red wristband, giddy and winking back at him like he was missing the joke.
He lost time to the thump thump of the beat, swaying until he was stumbling out of the mosh and leaning against a sticky bar.
Levi rested his elbows on the counter to catch his breath, a bead of sweat dripping down his nose. He grabbed a glass of water from the stack while the bartender was busy with someone else.
The water was barely cool but still soothing. As he sipped, he made eye contact with a guy across the bar. A few years older than him. Business shirt rolled to his elbows, five-o’clock shadow more of a one-am shadow. Glowing red wristband on his left wrist. Levi might have thought he’d come straight from work if his trousers weren’t too tight to be considered work-appropriate.
Still, the stubble traced a sharp jawline, and the man’s warm, dark eyes were locked with his.
Levi pushed off the counter as the guy came around. His eyes slid up and down, from too-nice work shoes on the tacky floor to his chest, top couple buttons popped open. He wouldn’t mind unpopping a few more.
He moves closer to the guy, who’s got one arm propped up on the counter and the other in his pocket. Comfortable.
“This doesn’t seem like your kinda scene,” he shouts over the music still blaring.
The guy smiled, like it was some private joke. “What makes you think that? Maybe this is exactly my kind of scene.”
Levi laughed. “I think I could be convinced.”
The guy grins back, and again they lock eyes. “Let me buy you a drink.”
It’s not a question and Levi doesn’t take it as such. “I’ll have whatever’s strongest.”
Five minutes and half a drink later, Levi’s giggling. He toys with the man’s red bracelet and holds the man’s hand in both of his own.
“How come you get a red one?” he pouts.
The guy laughs, a little mocking. He cups Levi’s jaw with one broad hand, and wow, the world was looking a little hazy. The flashing colours must be getting to him.
“Don’t you like yours? It suits you.”
“Thanks.” He leans into the other guy until their lips are inches apart. “I still like yours better.”
Warmth creeps up his neck, and it must be the guy’s smile that does it because alcohol doesn’t work that fast.
He’s pulled even closer, the hand with the red wristband settled around his waist.
“I can show you what it’s for, if you like.
A voice in his ear, hot and murmuring.
Levi nods, soft and eager.
“You can’t tell anyone. House secret.”
“Of course,” Levi breathes, entirely too sincere. He pictures VIP rooms hosting the real party, with more free drinks and red wristbands he knows he wants to snag next time he’s here.
So the man leads him away from the pulsing music, and Levi follows, swaying on bambi legs that shouldn’t be buckling after just one drink.
Go and read the pinned post @the-whumpers-soiree for context!
No warnings apply (yet <3)
Autumn cold bit at his cheeks, frozen hands tucked under his armpits. Levi shifted on his feet, waiting in the alley just beyond the reach of thumping music and flashing lights. The heaving roar of the club strained from behind the door, and between him and hot, pumping bodies was an immovable bouncer.
Ugh, the line was barely ten people. It shouldn’t be taking this long.
It had seemed pretty exclusive, from what Jason had told him. To be fair, Jason wasn’t exactly a reliable source of information. Just gave him the address and a guarantee he’d be let in. For Levi, who had just spent some of the best years of his life hiding from a literal plague…
Well, he didn’t need much convincing.
But finally at the front of the line, Levi flashed an ID at the bouncer, hands shaking from cold and adrenaline. His ID said twenty-two and he could totally pass for it – when he wasn’t wearing a sheer top and eyeliner.
The bouncer barely glanced at his ID before handing it back.
“Wrist.”
Levi held out a wrist, cool olive skin glowing green against the neon welcome sign above the door.
The bouncer snapped on a glowing blue wristband from a large box. Behind it, a much emptier basket held red wristbands.
Levi inspected the new accessory. “What’s this for?”
The bouncer gave him a bored stare. All Levi could see reflected in the man’s dark shades was his own gelled-back hair and bright, feverish eyes.
The invite said sober entry only. Just looking at the girls who went in front of him he could see that was a fucking lie.
“Just club policy.”
He went to push past the bouncer – it really was fucking cold – but an iron grip on his wrist stopped him.
“I’ll also need your phone.”
“Uhh,” Levi tried to stall. “Like, really?”
“Really,” the bouncer said flatly.
“What if I need to call someone?” Which, you know, could be better done over text.
“Then come back outside and get it.”
He leaned in with a flirtatious grin. “Why all the secrecy? Is this the kind of club where you don’t want pictures?”
A flash of white teeth hid the undercurrent of tension straining his voice. Jason told him this place was a bit weird. Levi was thinking more twinks in collars kind of weird, not taking-your-phone-until-you-leave kind of weird.
He much preferred the former.
The security guard’s expression didn’t change. “Something like that.” he agreed.
Levi flashed another smile. “Well, alrighty then. He fished his phone out of his back pocket and reluctantly handed it over. He was not gonna let weird club rules ruin his night.
The bouncer slipped the phone into one of his many pockets.
“Right this way.”
Finally, finally, the door opened, and the heat, the light, the thumping bass all washed over him. The bouncer nudged him forward, and when he looked back a moment later, the door was closed behind him.
Levi found himself pushed into a writhing crowd, a sea of limbs and half-naked sweating bodies. Glowing blue wristbands bobbed with the music, but there were a fair few red wristbands too. Some, in among the crowd, others, standing back, watching.
He let himself be pulled further in. he danced with a girl, with a boy, kissed them both and slunk away before either could try to give him their number. Danced with a third, until they were pulled away by someone in a red wristband, giddy and winking back at him like he was missing the joke.
He lost time to the thump thump of the beat, swaying until he was stumbling out of the mosh and leaning against a sticky bar.
Levi rested his elbows on the counter to catch his breath, a bead of sweat dripping down his nose. He grabbed a glass of water from the stack while the bartender was busy with someone else.
The water was barely cool but still soothing. As he sipped, he made eye contact with a guy across the bar. A few years older than him. Business shirt rolled to his elbows, five-o’clock shadow more of a one-am shadow. Glowing red wristband on his left wrist. Levi might have thought he’d come straight from work if his trousers weren’t too tight to be considered work-appropriate.
Still, the stubble traced a sharp jawline, and the man’s warm, dark eyes were locked with his.
Levi pushed off the counter as the guy came around. His eyes slid up and down, from too-nice work shoes on the tacky floor to his chest, top couple buttons popped open. He wouldn’t mind unpopping a few more.
He moves closer to the guy, who’s got one arm propped up on the counter and the other in his pocket. Comfortable.
“This doesn’t seem like your kinda scene,” he shouts over the music still blaring.
The guy smiled, like it was some private joke. “What makes you think that? Maybe this is exactly my kind of scene.”
Levi laughed. “I think I could be convinced.”
The guy grins back, and again they lock eyes. “Let me buy you a drink.”
It’s not a question and Levi doesn’t take it as such. “I’ll have whatever’s strongest.”
Five minutes and half a drink later, Levi’s giggling. He toys with the man’s red bracelet and holds the man’s hand in both of his own.
“How come you get a red one?” he pouts.
The guy laughs, a little mocking. He cups Levi’s jaw with one broad hand, and wow, the world was looking a little hazy. The flashing colours must be getting to him.
“Don’t you like yours? It suits you.”
“Thanks.” He leans into the other guy until their lips are inches apart. “I still like yours better.”
Warmth creeps up his neck, and it must be the guy’s smile that does it because alcohol doesn’t work that fast.
He’s pulled even closer, the hand with the red wristband settled around his waist.
“I can show you what it’s for, if you like.
A voice in his ear, hot and murmuring.
Levi nods, soft and eager.
“You can’t tell anyone. House secret.”
“Of course,” Levi breathes, entirely too sincere. He pictures VIP rooms hosting the real party, with more free drinks and red wristbands he knows he wants to snag next time he’s here.
So the man leads him away from the pulsing music, and Levi follows, swaying on bambi legs that shouldn’t be buckling after just one drink.
Go and read the pinned post @the-whumpers-soiree for context!
No warnings apply (yet <3)
Autumn cold bit at his cheeks, frozen hands tucked under his armpits. Levi shifted on his feet, waiting in the alley just beyond the reach of thumping music and flashing lights. The heaving roar of the club strained from behind the door, and between him and hot, pumping bodies was an immovable bouncer.
Ugh, the line was barely ten people. It shouldn’t be taking this long.
It had seemed pretty exclusive, from what Jason had told him. To be fair, Jason wasn’t exactly a reliable source of information. Just gave him the address and a guarantee he’d be let in. For Levi, who had just spent some of the best years of his life hiding from a literal plague…
Well, he didn’t need much convincing.
But finally at the front of the line, Levi flashed an ID at the bouncer, hands shaking from cold and adrenaline. His ID said twenty-two and he could totally pass for it – when he wasn’t wearing a sheer top and eyeliner.
The bouncer barely glanced at his ID before handing it back.
“Wrist.”
Levi held out a wrist, cool olive skin glowing green against the neon welcome sign above the door.
The bouncer snapped on a glowing blue wristband from a large box. Behind it, a much emptier basket held red wristbands.
Levi inspected the new accessory. “What’s this for?”
The bouncer gave him a bored stare. All Levi could see reflected in the man’s dark shades was his own gelled-back hair and bright, feverish eyes.
The invite said sober entry only. Just looking at the girls who went in front of him he could see that was a fucking lie.
“Just club policy.”
He went to push past the bouncer – it really was fucking cold – but an iron grip on his wrist stopped him.
“I’ll also need your phone.”
“Uhh,” Levi tried to stall. “Like, really?”
“Really,” the bouncer said flatly.
“What if I need to call someone?” Which, you know, could be better done over text.
“Then come back outside and get it.”
He leaned in with a flirtatious grin. “Why all the secrecy? Is this the kind of club where you don’t want pictures?”
A flash of white teeth hid the undercurrent of tension straining his voice. Jason told him this place was a bit weird. Levi was thinking more twinks in collars kind of weird, not taking-your-phone-until-you-leave kind of weird.
He much preferred the former.
The security guard’s expression didn’t change. “Something like that.” he agreed.
Levi flashed another smile. “Well, alrighty then. He fished his phone out of his back pocket and reluctantly handed it over. He was not gonna let weird club rules ruin his night.
The bouncer slipped the phone into one of his many pockets.
“Right this way.”
Finally, finally, the door opened, and the heat, the light, the thumping bass all washed over him. The bouncer nudged him forward, and when he looked back a moment later, the door was closed behind him.
Levi found himself pushed into a writhing crowd, a sea of limbs and half-naked sweating bodies. Glowing blue wristbands bobbed with the music, but there were a fair few red wristbands too. Some, in among the crowd, others, standing back, watching.
He let himself be pulled further in. he danced with a girl, with a boy, kissed them both and slunk away before either could try to give him their number. Danced with a third, until they were pulled away by someone in a red wristband, giddy and winking back at him like he was missing the joke.
He lost time to the thump thump of the beat, swaying until he was stumbling out of the mosh and leaning against a sticky bar.
Levi rested his elbows on the counter to catch his breath, a bead of sweat dripping down his nose. He grabbed a glass of water from the stack while the bartender was busy with someone else.
The water was barely cool but still soothing. As he sipped, he made eye contact with a guy across the bar. A few years older than him. Business shirt rolled to his elbows, five-o’clock shadow more of a one-am shadow. Glowing red wristband on his left wrist. Levi might have thought he’d come straight from work if his trousers weren’t too tight to be considered work-appropriate.
Still, the stubble traced a sharp jawline, and the man’s warm, dark eyes were locked with his.
Levi pushed off the counter as the guy came around. His eyes slid up and down, from too-nice work shoes on the tacky floor to his chest, top couple buttons popped open. He wouldn’t mind unpopping a few more.
He moves closer to the guy, who’s got one arm propped up on the counter and the other in his pocket. Comfortable.
“This doesn’t seem like your kinda scene,” he shouts over the music still blaring.
The guy smiled, like it was some private joke. “What makes you think that? Maybe this is exactly my kind of scene.”
Levi laughed. “I think I could be convinced.”
The guy grins back, and again they lock eyes. “Let me buy you a drink.”
It’s not a question and Levi doesn’t take it as such. “I’ll have whatever’s strongest.”
Five minutes and half a drink later, Levi’s giggling. He toys with the man’s red bracelet and holds the man’s hand in both of his own.
“How come you get a red one?” he pouts.
The guy laughs, a little mocking. He cups Levi’s jaw with one broad hand, and wow, the world was looking a little hazy. The flashing colours must be getting to him.
“Don’t you like yours? It suits you.”
“Thanks.” He leans into the other guy until their lips are inches apart. “I still like yours better.”
Warmth creeps up his neck, and it must be the guy’s smile that does it because alcohol doesn’t work that fast.
He’s pulled even closer, the hand with the red wristband settled around his waist.
“I can show you what it’s for, if you like.
A voice in his ear, hot and murmuring.
Levi nods, soft and eager.
“You can’t tell anyone. House secret.”
“Of course,” Levi breathes, entirely too sincere. He pictures VIP rooms hosting the real party, with more free drinks and red wristbands he knows he wants to snag next time he’s here.
So the man leads him away from the pulsing music, and Levi follows, swaying on bambi legs that shouldn’t be buckling after just one drink.
Anyone got any good recs for whump blogs made since 2020? (I haven't followed new ppl in a while lol)
I'm more focused on wanting high quality writing, less fussed about genre or setting so long as it's oc whump!
Genuinely don’t mean this as any sort of callout post but it’s interesting to me how there’s been a trend in newer (?) whump blogs putting really long disclaimers in their bios and pinned posts, saying that they don’t condone violence, that they aren’t responsible for other people’s actions, that they know it’s bad and it’s just fiction.
It’s honestly making me wonder how much purity culture has seeped into the fabric of even the Whump community, that people feel the need to explicitly state what I would have accepted as an easily presumed given. When did we get to a point where we have to preface any conversation by stating that we don’t condone irl violence, lest someone accuse us of immorality?
the best example for whump being exposed to purity culture is the lady whump dilemma, and it's upsetting that people are afraid to address it or just don't see it happening.
I've seen people imply/outright state that because "women get abused more" means that lady whump is shady and "immoral" to write.
like, not only does that completely invalidate men going through abuse but it's also a complete and utter bullshit reason to discourage freedom of creativity.
it's like we're taking steps BACK in equality via censorship and it's absolutely ridiculous.
like the fact people genuinely go after writers for not putting a warning about pronouns and for not promoting the "male only" whump stereotype is kinda weird.
It also grosses me out that people genuinely think that women only belong in a caretaker/supportive role instead of the main character.
Like I'm sorry my character that goes through a rough experience just so happens to be female or uses she/her pronouns. Go touch grass.
Another thing that irks me is the promotion of people saying that they like male whump because they're attracted to men, but when it's the other way around somehow it's disgusting.
It's kind of homophobic to go after a saphic writer and preach that them writing lady whump isn't ok while also accepting someone writing male whump because they're attracted to men.
To quote an unnamed anon, "They clearly have a 'normalize misogyny and everyone should get off to the pain of women' agenda."
As if that isn't the case with male whumpees.
People here celebrate men being beaten up, bloodied and bruised. Yet somehow, when the tables are turned, everyone clutches their pearls as if a sin against nature has been committed-- claiming that men deserve to be objectified.
Not only is that a horrifically toxic response but it also puts lady whump writers in an extremely difficult spot when defending their work.
Honestly, the entire concept of lady whump being a separate community is disturbing in and of itself.
This community is definitely not as welcoming towards people with female characters, no matter what anyone here says about how "kind" and "friendly" this part of tumblr is. People are afraid to introduce their female characters at risk of harassment.
That's not okay.
The quality of whump should not be determined by the character's gender.
The fact that this is even a debate or source of drama is honestly sad.
Also, the taboo around minor whump.
I'm not talking about people having squicks/triggers around child abuse. I also recognize that some websites - including Tumblr - can be overzealous in enforcing rules around content involving minors, including overall good rules. It does grate on me, though, that in a community where things like slavery, sexual abuse, and mutilation are very common themes, writing about childhood trauma is talked about it ways that make it seem uniquely creepy and wrong.
Most of my characters - whumpees, caretakers, and whumpers alike - have childhood trauma because it informs their actions and motivations going forward. Just as importantly, my characters have childhood trauma because I do. Whump is how I've processed that since long before I even understood what trauma was.
I'm not getting off on child abuse or whatever by writing about it, any more than I'm promoting eating disorders by writing about food trauma. Writing about something isn't automatically glorifying, excusing, or fetishizing it. In revisiting traumatic experiences through whump, I'm in fact trying to do the opposite of those things.
^^^ this.
In the real (offline) world, many authors write books with violence against women, children, all kinds of people. It's not all well written, but very few people are denying its right to exist. The idea that we should be holding random whump writers to a higher standard than like, published authors is frankly ridiculous. I can't imagine reading James Patterson's books and thinking he obviously condones murder and violence against women.
is interrogated part 2 going to be posted? i loved the first one!
This one is a new character! but uhh
so. I posted interrogated part 1 in 2019. but. can't guarantee I will post the part 2 but will def go back and look at the notes I made for it! I'll post an update in the next few weeks if I can find time <3
babes I am writing a new thing and I PROMISE I will post it in the next couple days <3
fair warning tho it's a little darker than my older stuff in some ways, I will be writing about more adult topics inc sexual assault at least sometimes from now on! I will always tag it at the start tho so if it's a miss you can keep scrolling <3
I’ve been looking for this whump series for so long, maybe someone can help me.
It was about a homeless singer that was lured to a rich guys house and kidnapped. At one point he also held a pianist captive, but eventually killed him. The eventual caretaker was a non-binary journalist and I think they had curly red hair. I’m pretty sure the story was titled songbird, canary, or something like that. Thanks!!
definitely not something I’ve read but perhaps someone in the tumblr void will know this story!!
I think you might be looking for one of @sweetwhumpandhellacomf‘s older series? Can’t remember but that sounds really familiar.
Wasn’t me but I remember the series. Just not who wrote it…
Isn’t that @robins-whump Tristan and Finn series?
Yes that's me! I've got it pinned in my bio, happy reading <3
The Blackmuir Reign
Therrin & Saxon flashback: Castle Osier, Three Years Ago
Summary: Saxon Osier is allowed to whip Therrin himself. He takes him to his room after, as always. But something about this time feels different.
CW: fantasy/medieval whump, whippings, past whump of a minor, political hostage, power dynamics are all over the road, hurt/comfort, NSFW, sexual touching, consensual sexual relationship
The Blackmuir Reign
7: Patience
Summary: Therrin comforts a very unsure Matteo, while Matteo begs to be useful
CW: fantasy/medieval whump, noncon/sexual elements, misunderstandings, aftermath of torture, low self worth, beatings, starvation, scars, begging and bargaining, slavery and sexual slavery, hurt/comfort, whumpee offering themself to caretaker, death/execution, presumed dead.
Therrin was kept late by the matter of the gallows. It turned out timing a large scale public execution was akin to planning a three day festival.
He retired to his rooms well after dark. In the north the dusk came earlier, even when the days were at their longest in the solstice. The lone moon looked strange to him now, after so many years in the southerlands, where a second arced the horizon like a white fish jumping out of water.
Matteo was curled up in front of a dying fire. With his guard down in sleep, it was easier to see the damage Henry had done to him.
AHHHH I LOVE THIS! Therrin being so good but we can also see the power starting to eat away at him even now! I wonder how long his patient kindness with Matteo will last, or will power go to his head?
And Matteo, still so fearful of Therrin because he KNOWS how awful he was to him, and now his sense of self-worth and self-preservation is so warped he would do anything for Therrin, who he very clearly views similarly to Henry. I'd love to be added to your tag list!
📋 Hello I am putting a formal request in for more Chris Saves Himself AU ft Mama Nakamura taking him I’m home only to realize the full situation
CW: Grief, memory loss, recovering whumpee, some very brief and very vague references to noncon, minor whumpee (OC is 17), angsty fluff, reunion
It takes six days for the cops to let Akio's mom bring Tristan back to their house.
He's ready to be discharged from the hospital by day two, but there's nowhere for him to go. WRU is still saying there's no record of his existence, even with the barcode on his wrist. Tristan's only known living relative, Joanne Botham, is claiming he ran away from home and she had no idea what happened to him, that what she had told the Nakamura family was out of frustration and anger at Tristan for disappearing. The governor is out on bail facing charges for keeping Tristan in the mansion in the first place.
There are a lot of charges.
Akio feels by turns numb and enraged when he hears a news anchor read them out loud, bloodless words that don't seem to reflect at all how serious their meanings are.
The first few, he can process - false imprisonment, bodily assault - but then they keep going, and they get worse in ways Akio can barely even begin to imagine.
What Tristan has lived through... Akio's brain refuses to let it coalesce fully, but he has nightmares, dreams about Tristan screaming for him and being on the other side of a door Aki can't open.
He dreams about hands on Tristan's body and the way he might have screamed for help. Akio wakes up crying, retching, running to the bathroom to throw up whatever he's eaten that day as if he can rid himself of the poison of knowing.
His mom calls a therapist.
His father tells him to stop watching the news.
somehow this post escaped containment and these are my favourite tags
