Accidental trauma reveal my love. When friends or enemies unintentionally discover Whumpee’s tragic background. For instance
The classic nightmare scene. Whumpee has never slept with people close by for this very reason. Unfortunately, they don’t have a choice this time, and they do, in fact, scream (or cry) in their sleep, in front of someone/everyone.
The person behind the trauma suddenly reappearing in Whumpee’s life. Whumpee losing it—running away, hiding, refusing to engage with anyone. Or even better, trying so hard to pretend they’re okay until they just. Shatter.
Truth serums, spells, and items. Flippantly asking Villain, “Why do you keep doing this?” only to get a gut-wrenching answer in return.
The mind probe. Whumpee is sick/unconscious, and someone does the magical mind probe (I swear this comes up so much in media) to figure out what’s wrong and stumbles on Whumpee’s tragic past.
Teammates unknowingly triggering Whumpee for a while until Whumpee finally just screams it out. The looks of horror.
Also shout out to intentional trauma reveals. For trusting the found family enough to tell them the things that hurt the most.
Any other tropey goodness that results in Whumpee finally getting the comfort they deserve.
Perfectionist whumpees who believe that every second of their day should be productive, and that time spent resting is time wasted.
They're held captive and exhausted from torture, hardly able to see straight, chastising themself for merely fantasizing about freedom instead of working on their escape plan.
They're sprawled out, breathing heavy and trying to get their bearings after the whump. They need to go fetch their first aid kit but they spend a few precious, guilt-ridden minutes bleeding and feeling sorry for themself.
Their first thought when they see whumper is no, please, not now! I have too much to do!
They flit around the house as their bandages grow steadily redder: a ticking time bomb that only further delights the one who hurt them in the first place.
Then, worst of all, they're bound and gagged, growing more anxious with the second as their inability to get anything done gnaws away at their sanity.
The whumper can't help but adore it. They didn't even need to instill this behavior: this is something their whumpee is doing all by themself.
whumpee who was abused as a child is abused as an adult. it ruined them, they can't be handled any other way, they need to be shouted at or hit or shoved to keep them in line.
whumpee who was raped is raped again by someone else and raped again and they start to think well nobody gets raped this many times, this is my fault. this has to be my fault.
the fear. the silence. the guilt, the shame, the this has to be about me at this point. they wonder if people can smell it on them. they wonder if it's ever going to stop. they wonder if they can even tell someone - who is going to believe someone could let this happen to them twice. and besides, what's to say that person won't hit them, won't call them words they can't repeat, won't touch them?
Y'know what I'm actually a slut for is Caretaker having no choice but to become the Master because it's the only relationship Whumpee can understand. Caretaker realizing that too much freedom and too much kindness is detrimental because it keeps Whumpee in a constant state of anxiety. Realizing that they can't just take off the collar and leash; they have to hold the leash and train their new rescue back up into a person who wants the collar off.
This is a shorter one, to get back into the flow of it.
[Pet Safety Masterpost]
Content warning: BBU recovery, past homophobia (parents about their son), referenced conditioning, referenced noncon/dubcon, parallels to suicidal ideation, GUILT.
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They sat on the couch in silence, Bea - Blanca - nestled to his side, wrapped in a soft blanket, her broken ankle carefully rested on a cushion.
It felt as if they both held their breath, as if anything mundane would shatter the fragile intimacy of that shared moment on the stairs.
Bea had trusted him with her most precious secret.
It was time he did as well.
"May I speak Spanish?", Adrian asked.
Bea pondered a moment before she nodded. "I would like that," she said in English. "I like your voice in Spanish."
"I can switch back whenever you want."
"I know." She sneaked her healthy hand out from underneath the blanket and rested it over his. "I understand. Spanish is the language of truth. English is the language of lies."
Adrian shivered, had to suck in a breath, before he tilted his head and switched to their mother tongue. "Quizás." Maybe.
Bea's head leaned against his shoulder.
"You know Noor," he began. "I once knew a young man, who looked almost like him. He meant a lot to me. His name was Eric. And I lost him."
He told her everything, starting at the very moment their back door had opened and his sister's frisbee teammate casually strolled to their fridge, helped himself to a Coke and just as casually winked at Adrian.
He told her about the realization that this boy's smile, this boy's face, all of him, was beautiful in a way Adrian had never felt before. It wasn't love at first sight. But it certainly was a first sight that led to love.
Eric was Adrian's first real partner, and the one he gave his virginity to. Marta was their biggest cheerleader, and Adrian's parents easily took him in as another family member.
Eric's family didn't. They didn't know about Adrian; but what they did know about Eric was enough for them to despise their own son. Adrian, Marta, Eric's other friends couldn't be enough to replace the love of his family.
And Eric slipped. He drank too much at parties, said things with a hurtful, cruel edge to them, pushed Adrian into sex that was too rough for both of them.
Adrian took it for a long time. Didn't give up hope, doubled his efforts to pull Eric back from the edge.
Eric dropped out of school, tried stronger drugs, searched for sex with men who cared less about boundaries than Adrian did.
It was Eric who eventually broke up with Adrian, crying and determined at the same time.
Within days, before Adrian could even process, what happened, Eric had left.
It took a lot to pick up their everyday life again after this, for both Adrian and Marta. They graduated the year, Adrian found a new girlfriend, won a scholarship to study medicine at a college near home.
When Eric called one day, he didn't answer.
Then, some time, his parents called him, horrified, after 25,000 Dollars showed up on their bank account.
Sent by WRU.
There was no doing about where it came from. Whom it was compensation for.
Adrian hadn't been active in pet lib, but Marta was. Thus, he knew enough to be aware of how the system destroyed people. And he knew he had to get Eric out.
While Eric had signed up with WRU as a trainee pet, Adrian signed up with WRU to be a trainee handler.
"Did you find him?", Bea whispered in English.
Adrian resorted to English, too. "I did. Through research, determination, but honestly, mostly sheer luck. Facility 012. Got transferred there." Adrian's jaw clenched. "I was too late. WRU has always been efficient."
Silently, Bea's small hand wrapped around his. Adrian held her. He knew that she knew. She understood so much more, so much deeper than words could convey.
Yet she gave him the space to say it.
The language of truth. He switched back.
"He... he'd been made a Romantic." He didn't even try to find a translation for that term. "I just found him, because they hadn't shipped him yet. Withdrawal let him be at the facility for a long time and he... Eric was very handsome, and very desperate, in a way that even the worst of my colleagues can't ingrain as deeply as an abusive family can. In a way that predators love. And so the... the handlers had taken a liking to him. They... - I..., I still don't know what I did. Looked at him too long, too horrified, too nervous? He noticed. My colleagues they... they also noticed." Adrian ran a hand across his face. It came back wet with tears. "Eric still had that sleazy, mischievous wink, that was... should've been his. His alone. The company made it theirs. They made everything theirs."
"He did not recognize you."
"He didn't. But I... he's always had a type. He flirted with me. He, he wanted it. I can't even tell how much of it was WRU, or how much of it was a part of Eric that had always been there. But I know that I - I did not want it."
"You did it anyway."
Adrian stared at the ceiling, swallowed back the bile. "I did. I raped him."
"He understood."
Adrian rapidly blinked to clear his eyes. 'They didn't leave you a choice,' Marta had said. 'It was the only thing you could do to protect your cover', Ray said.
But Bea didn't talk about Adrian. She talked about Eric.
"Romantics understand." Bea's voice was soft. "Romantics might not understand numbers, or business, or logic, but our existence is based on reading feelings. Lust, anger, attraction - yet most of all, Adrian, we understand fear. Maybe Eric did not know you, but he understood the situation you were in. It was not only you, who played along to save you."
Adrian shook his head. "He-"
"Do you not think he realized your discomfort? He was made to serve you, but he was also made to never lie to his handlers. He should have told them that you hesitated. And he did not." Bea waited, searched for Adrian's gaze. "He understood, Adrian."
The tears ran freely now. "Fuck," Adrian whispered. "Fuck, Bea, I'm sorry, you shouldn't see me like that, I shouldn't have-"
"Have you not listened?" She rested her forehead against his. "I understand, too. I see you, Adrian. It is not your tears that make me feel your grief."
"It... that was the last time that I saw him. He got lost in the system. Like so many others."
"Yo no," Bea whispered. I didn't.
Adrian wrapped an arm around her and buried his face in her hair. "No. You didn't," he mumbled.
nonhuman whumpee having species specific tells that people don’t even realize are signs of distress; whumper who recognizes the tells and totally ignores them
"It's fairly clear that I'll never truly be my own person. If I'm going to belong to anyone, I want it to be you. Please. Please, don't let it be them."
Whumper who expects a level of grace from the whumpee. Appearences are important, we wouldn't want our colleagues to think less of us, hm?
Head held high. Yes the wounds hurt, that's why it's impressive to walk around and socialize like this. Smile, mingle, it's a party, our hosts will be so insulted if they think we're not having fun.
A deceptively gentle hand under the chin, cool gaze locked onto wide teary eyes.
caretaker who can't let go. who can't loosen their grip on whumpee's wellbeing. the immediate danger has passed, but the knock-on effects are still there. is whumpee slurring because they're tired or because they drank again? are they sleeping in or did they overdose on sedatives? caretaker knows they're being a helicopter caregiver at this point but they just can't let go
Pet whumpee pleading to caretaker constantly that they were fine, please they promise they’re fine, nothing is wrong with them, it’s just a scratch, just a bruise, it’s nothing, it doesn’t hurt, please-
Because their previous owner would threaten to put them down if they got to be “too much to deal with”. If they stopped being useful. If they weren’t worth the trouble.
Best place for a whumpee to be: jail cell separate from but visible to a friend.
Medic and whumpee captured together, medic desperately trying to walk Whumpee through first aid before they pass out from blood loss, unable to get to them.
Leader whumpee getting beat to shit in clear view of their team and none of them can help.
Rivals/enemies captured together, watching the other get hurt and realizing in the worst way possible that some part of them cares for the other.
one thing i love in whump is... implications. when the damage isn't immediately obvious but it's easy to put the clues together if you're paying attention.
bruises in particular shapes. certain types of injuries. offhand comments that add up. odd periods of not being reachable, someone goes out of contact for a few days and comes back moving strangely, stiffly, like they're- like they're hurt. a new traumatic reaction, a new fear, a new trigger that came out of nowhere.
something happened. something has happened and anyone paying attention knows it. and anyone paying attention for longer than a moment, anyone who truly knows them, can probably figure out what.
