ent-whump - Tumblr blog

[ent-whump]

Whumpering-heights here with bad news...

Hi, you might know me from stories like Behind The Masks. Here's some of my art:

The bad news is that I have lost my blog. I have had it for nearly half a decade, and one accidental click and it's deleted forever. (I had meant to delete a sideblog I wasn't using anymore. I didn't realize it would nuke ALL my blogs.)

So I guess there's nothing to do but start over from scratch. I'm going put this in the whump tags, in the hopes of letting people know what happened. I would like to ask people to reblog this, so as many of my old followers can see this as possible.

All my posts are perma deleted. They only exist in reblogs now, not even in the tags. Thank god I have all my writing, even the drabbles that were in response to asks, on my computer! Reposting it will take a long while, though. I might be able to use the internet archive, but I'm not sure.

Mostly, I'm mourning the testament to my readers' support. I can't get that back. Nothing to do but rebuild from here, i suppose.

[ent-whump]

Love that while online fandom in general is having a weird meltdown about the morality of enjoying anything darker than sanitized fluff in fiction, the Danny Phantom fandom is still sitting in the corner 16 years after the show ended with a blankie and cocoa and their 10,000th deep-fanon supertorture cannibalism vivisection psychological horror fic

[ent-whump]

am really interested in seeing nat with an early chris. the moment where she says that his hands are his and he deserves the mind that moves his hands, i would love to see more of a gentle caring nat towards the scared chris like that 🥺

CW: Conditioned silence/kneeling, trauma recovery, recovering whumpee, references to pet whump

“Hey, there.” 

Nat has twenty years of this, more or less, under her belt. Twenty years of time since she walked away from creating this mess and dedicated herself to trying to mitigate the damage, one rescue at a time. It feels like saving a single honeybee while whole colonies are fed into a woodchipper, some days, but she tells herself the same platitudes she tells all of them, too:

Even one life saved is worth the risk, and worth the effort.

She doesn’t use terms like value or cost, with the rescues. They know they exist to be exchanged for money, it’s teaching them that they exist outside of what they can produce or perform for an owner that’s the hard part. 

Twenty years of keeping her voice low, just like this, and still every single rescue is a whole person, and it always feels a little bit new.

“Do you need some help?”

The newest rescue in their house, the teenage Romantic that only rarely moves out from behind the bed and then retreats right back into his room as soon as he’s spooked, pauses where he stands in the doorway. It’s not right to say he pauses - he freezes, there, like a deer caught in headlights midway through flashing the white tail that signifies it wants to run.

His eyes are wide, and so very green. A smattering of pale freckles across his pale skin, sickly from being kept indoors so often, pulls at Nat’s heartstrings in a very particular way. Strawberry blond hair that flirts with copper is clipped just so, to hang into his eyes just a little bit. 

It kills Nat, but she can see why it was cut that way. It makes his expressions seem even more plaintive. 

“Um.” The boy’s voice is low, soft and uncertain, and his hands close tightly around the sides of the doorframe he leans against, as though using it to hold himself up. “I’m. Um. I’m, I’m... I, I, I was, I did-” He flinches, winces back away from her. “Um. N-Never, I’m, I’m, I’m sorry, never-... never mind-”

Shifting back on his feet, ready to flee, torn between the carefully conditioned obedience that tries to hold him until he’s dismissed and the fear that pushes him to run. She’s seen it a hundred times, by now. 

Nat doesn’t get up or try to go after him - she’d be a threat, if she did that. Instead, she only folds her hands in her lap, in plain view, and gives him a slight, soothing smile. 

“You’re okay,” She says, gently. “You’re okay. Jake said you ate some chicken on Thursday, did you feel better after that?”

The boy watches her, and slowly nods. His shoulders hunch up a little towards his chin. 

“Good. That’s good, kiddo.”

There might be a flicker - the slightest hint - of a smile at the nickname. All the boy’s expressions happen in the faintest shades of themselves. He’s not the first one to have learned to regulate even the twitch of an eyebrow, the shift of a muscle near the corner of his mouth.

“So. That’s a plate of fried chicken, and then... have you eaten anything since?”

Another hesitation. Then a slight shake of the head.

“Did you come here to tell me you might be hungry?”

No response this time, except for his knuckles going white where he clings to the dark wooden doorframe, one of the beautiful parts of living in such an old house. His eyes are locked on her face, trying to read danger there, a threat, anger that he dared ask for anything that hadn’t been offered. She can read it all. She’d read this book before, of course, but every single time the story unfolds a little differently. 

“Well. I’m hungry, and I was about to head over into the kitchen and make a couple of turkey and swiss sandwiches with extra mustard and some barbecue potato chips. Because I, for one, am starving.

The boy bounces, just once, on the balls of his feet and then goes carefully back to still again. He’s like some kind of carved statue, everywhere he manages to go - hidden behind the bed or standing in the doorway to the home office, he looks like he’s been carved from stone by some outstanding sculptor, brought only halfway to life.

“I... like... turkey sandwiches,” He offers, his voice low and tentative. “Ma’am.”

“Oh, please.” Nat waves one hand. “Where I come from, you only ma’am old people, and don’t you listen to Jake saying that they ma’am and sir everybody in the south, we live by Midwest rules around here.”

The boy, who no longer understands those kinds of regional differences, continues simply to stare at her. 

She smiles and moves slowly to her feet - even as slow as she can possibly go, he still flinches back at first, his hands dropping to twist into the hem of the oversized shirt he’s wearing with a pair of mesh basketball shorts he’d found in the back of the bedroom closet, abandoned by some prior rescue. 

He backs up for her to move past him towards the kitchen, then follows her on silent bare feet, a teenage ghost wandering the halls of a house full of them all, deposited here as shades and told to find their way back to life.

Words aren’t worth much, in the grand scheme of things. What helps a rescue isn’t words - most of them have had reassurance and comfort twisted and spun and turned into the very phrases used to most wound them. 

What helps a rescue is a simple action, repeated without expectation of repayment. Nat makes a sandwich, and then another. She puts more potato chips on his plate than hers. And she doesn’t try to make him sit at the table. They’ve already learned he wasn’t allowed to do that. Instead, she carries both plates into the living room and sets his down on the coffee table.

He sinks to his knees with a perfect, practiced motion Nat has seen nearly every day since she walked away from WRU and started her first safehouse. They teach them all to kneel, no matter their designation. 

They all know how to kneel more than they are allowed to remember how to breathe.

He watches her for permission, and she knows it will take time before she can stop giving it. 

“Go ahead, kiddo.”

His hands raise to pick up the sandwich, gentle as can be. “Thank... thank, thank-...” He winces, pressing his fingers into the sandwich even harder, leaving divots in the soft white bread, little impressions like a man pushing his hand into clay. “Thank you, m-... Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo. You can sit with me on the couch, if you’d like.”

His eyes flicker to the couch and then back to her, trying to decide what she wants him to do. “I like the floor,” He says, finally. His voice is strangely flat, each word drops like a carefully chosen stone when he speaks like this. “Pets belong-”

“Sssshhh, you don’t have to say that stuff here. Do whatever makes you comfortable.” Nat sits herself down, takes a bite, and then carefully peels up the sandwich to slide a few potato chips between the top layer of swiss and the bread. She hums, and catches the boy watching her, looking at his own chips, then back up at her. She grins. “Childhood habit.”

He blinks, and then echoes her motion, his fingers long and thin. “Child... childhood?”

They’re always fascinated by stories about childhoods and families, all the things they must have had in some form, and lost, and can’t remember.

“I grew up a farm kid, did I ever tell you that? No, of course not, you’ve been here four days. Anyway, my dad was a farmer...”

He starts to eat the sandwich as she speaks, in careful bites that are gradually distracted by her words into larger ones. By the time she runs out of stories, he’s eaten every bite on his plate, and shifted from his knee to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

His eyes are still locked on her, but she can see that there is something new his expression.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth

[ent-whump]

Hajime Kinoko · Red Series: Samsara

[ent-whump]

Please reblog this post if you belong to the whump community.

Let's see how many reblogs this gets!

[ent-whump]

"Lady Whump" and Censorship.

This was originally a reply to @straight-to-the-pain's lovely post, but I felt like what I wanted to say should be its own thing.

As a disclaimer, I want to say that triggers surrounding lady whump are understandable and valid. You are not being demonized for being uncomfortable with a topic or having trauma surrounding it. However, that does not excuse the demonization and harassment of those who write it or choose not to tag it.

-----------------------------

The best example for whump being exposed to purity culture (as mentioned here) 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.

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.

This is the whump community. We write about abusive relationships, noncon, violence and torture. Just because it isn't a male character does not mean any of this changes.

Saying that the gender of a character makes any of these acts "more severe" implies that if it happens to a male irl, it's less of a big deal.

This is untrue, and harmful.

If a man suffers from any of the aforementioned acts, they should be taken just as seriously as a woman. Men can be abused, sexually assaulted, and harmed just as much as a woman can. This is not news.

It's like we're taking steps BACK in equality via censorship and it's absolutely ridiculous.

Implying that a woman cannot go through the above experiences is also incredibly disrespectful to victims who have suffered from abuse. Implying that they cannot write about it is censorship.

People write to cope.

The fact people genuinely go after writers for not putting a warning about pronouns and for not promoting the "male only" whump stereotype is unacceptable.

You create your online experience. If you don't enjoy a certain trope, don't read it. I completely understand that tagging content helps potential readers avoid triggering content but when it comes down to the character's pronouns, I believe that if it impacts someone that much simply being in the whump community itself is harmful. Characters have different genders. It is inevitable. That being said, there is nothing wrong with asking someone to tag content, just be prepared if they say no. Do not harass someone for not tagging something specific to you.

Just block them, or walk away.

It also grosses me out that people genuinely think that women only belong in a caretaker/supportive role instead of the main character. This enforces negative stereotypes of female characters.

This isn't the 50's anymore. Women have left the kitchen.

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.

Double standards are harmful. Women can be attracted to women.

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. We are not bad people just because we have female characters. We are not misogynists. We are not fetishists.

We simply write a gender that isn't male.

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 due to the risk of harassment.

That's not okay.

This is supposed to be a community for enjoying torturing characters, regardless of how they identify.

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.

----------------------

Thank you to @astralrunic and @for-the-love-of-angst for proofreading this.

[ent-whump]

The votes are IN, if stainless steel could love you back is 17k of horrifying/pos gore and excellent QSMP characterization. Do you think QSMP should be more visceral? Do you want to read a man get cut up but he's still awake? Do you want to never sleep again?

*I* did not read the finished product because I saw the tags and went "i am a fragile tiny baby" but I saw some snippets before I had to exit the gore channel because the author was simply too good at this, and this one's a banger.

Gore! Torture! Body Horror! Paranoia! Rated E for violence! if stainless steel could love you back!

Tags: Blood and Gore, Gore, Heavy gore, I Cannot Emphasize Enough The Fact That Gore, Trust Issues, Rated For Violence, Vivisection, trepanning, Past Prison Abuse, The Inherently Abusive Nature Of Prisons, Respawn Mechanics (Minecraft), Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Consent Issues, No Sex, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Ethical Dilemmas, Medical Torture, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Paranoia, Minecraft Mechanics, Temporary Character Death, Language Barrier, Cannibalistic Thoughts, mentioned but don't play major roles: maxo dapper etoiles tazercraft richas skeppy, Fuga Impossível Summary: Cellbit returns to Forever after infiltrating the Federation. As little as either of them want to do it, he has to be checked for implanted listening devices before he can be welcomed back into the fold. Rating: E

Go get fucked up with it!

[ent-whump]

Feather Sifters: A device used in Angel on the Wall for separating angel feathers out to pluck individual ones more easily, since angel wings have very thick layers. These devices are typically only used by demons in feather factories, but David has one to use on his son for punishment and referred to it as the 'bad birdy cage' when he first used it on Logan as a kid.

David's powerful magic allows him to control someone for a short amount of time if he carves the symbol of the Divine on them, which is what he does to force Logan to take his wings out.

My Ko-Fi | My Art | My Whump | Angel on the Wall

Angel on the Wall Taglist:

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @icyheart-and-friends @secretwhumplair @redwhump @myhusbandsasemni  @sacredwrath @panic-whump @sad-boys-anonymous @darlingwhump @neverthelass @wolfeyedwitch @sink-the-ship @quietshae @despairdragon @pigeonwhumps @re-frost @kitstorm @canislycaon24 @fishtale88 @adventure-who @susiequaz12 @mymindis-theuniverse-ismymind @writing-hurts @cepheusgalaxy @whumpfessional @bilateralue @whatwhumpcomments

General Art Taglist:

@cryptidwritings @sparrowsage @wolfeyedwitch @firapolemos05 @26-letter-symphony @subject-13 @astrowhump @cepheusgalaxy @secretwhumplair @mothmxwhump @v-3-II-1-g-0-r-3 @pigeonwhumps @icyheart-and-friends @estoult @darlingwhump

[ent-whump]

there's something so compelling to me about the fact that sometimes leaving a blade or bullet inside the wound it made is the only way to prevent you from bleeding to death. something about the ironic symbolism of it. when the thing designed and intended to kill you is the only thing keeping you alive.

[ent-whump]

Robot/AI whumpee whose whumper plugs them into a terminal and clicks through all their thoughts and feelings. No secrets, no privacy.

[ent-whump]

Crab Day!!!

Where:

Here on Tumblr!!

What:

Buy crabs!

Why:

As we now know, Tumblr is $30 million dollars in debt. Oops. Tumblr has announced some major (and unpopular) changes to the site in their attempt to get back above water. The alternative is that Tumblr ceases to exist. But maybe we can change that...

How:

There are 327 million unique tumblr visits per month, and almost 500 million active accounts. If 10 million unique users (or less, if we bought more than one) bought or gifted Crabs from the Tumblr store, we could knock out Tumblr's debt easily. Buy crabs!

When:

July 29, 2023 is Crab Day, running through August 5 (for anyone who can't log on that day) as Crab Week!

Who:

Everyone!! If you truly can't afford to participate with a $3 crab, (or other item from the shop) post crab memes!

Time for Tumblr users to rise again and surprise everyone...

[ent-whump]

I’m sure all you Tumblr users have heard by now about the changes being made to Tumblr’s ecosystem so that the site can make more money. And I’m sure most of you are as uneasy as I am or, in fact, are angry about the proposed changes.

The reason they need to make more money is simple: Tumblr is $30 million USD in debt.

For this site to run and for them to pay employees, the site needs to generate revenue.

This place maybe a hellsite but it’s our hellsite. We are still here because we actually like it here. Besides, the other social media sites are crashing or will crash soon. Where else would we go?

Now, I did some research. There are at least 300 million users and over 500 million blogs. One of the cheapest things to buy on the Tumblr store is the crab package you can gift to another blog, which is $3 USD.

If each and everyone of us buys a crab package, we get to keep Tumblr alive and kicking. @oracleoutlook suggested that we make a holiday of it on July 29th. It seems to have resonated with people. Others have also asked for that to extend to August 5th, as some people don’t get paid til the beginning of the month.

Many people have already agreed to celebrate July 29th as Crab Day, a day of posting crab memes and gifting crabs to other users. And if you cannot afford to buy crabs, that is a-okay! Participate in the crab memes. Who would pass up the chance to make and reblog memes about crabs, after all?

This hellsite is ours. Let us remind them of that.

[ent-whump]

[ent-whump]

| alucard 9×16 |

i made it for my friend^^

[ent-whump]

So I've gotten a couple new followers lately who look like they're probably bots but might conceivably just be lurkers.

So FYI

If you leave everything on default and have an empty blog, you look like a bot.

If you want to lurk and are okay with being blocked + spam reported, then you do you! But if you want to lurk and NOT be blocked, please put SOMETHING on your page.

Anything.

Well. Anything other than photos of skimpily clad women and links.

This does not need to be (and for basic internet safety should not be) personal info at all. Write "I like cheesecake" somewhere. Write "hello I am lurking please don't block me". Post an incomprehensible meme from 2002. Whatever.

Otherwise, you are going to find yourself quickly blocked by a sizable chunk of the people you follow.

Because you look like a bot.

And the rest of us at least are under seige.

[ent-whump]

Is nobody else incredibly irritated when the fake blood dilutes with a pink hue

[ent-whump]

I'm in an angsty mood so the bat fam discorver ra's has access to something like the lazerus waters but more pure what's more this "lazerus blood" as they've heard it referred to appears to give the drinker minor powers super strength advanced healing a sort of weightlessness not flight or anything but gravity appears to affect them less

So the bat fam decide they need to stop tgis lazerus blood they analysed it it appears to be a much purer for of lazerus waters so that's it obviously they are doing something to purify the lazerus waters to make this blood so they do detectiveing and fid out where it's coming from and go to stop it

They eventually find a room labelled extractor and think this is it this is the blood room to make the purer lazerus inside they don't find a machine or magical ritual set up they find a boy a boy with stark white hair a a black an white hazmat suit on with a D on the fron bleeding green strapped to a table being sucked dry of blood

Long story short danny is being used to get ectoplasm which is literally purified lazerus waters how the league of assassin's found him let's say reveal gone bad and he's bleeding green they got curios found his blood was very similar had a test run found out how much better it was and decided let's drain let him recover and repeat and the bat fam fin this horrifying situation

From this process, Danny is very weak. How long has this blood draining been going on for? Is Danny even conscious at that point or do they just hook the next nutrient IV and blood IV into him at a scheduled period and leave him passed out, barley able to even fight from the bare bones nutrients and food that they’ve been giving him.

How fucked up are they going with the extraction process? Is this collection system attached to an arm or leg vein, an artery, or did they full send and somehow attach it to his heart?

How much pain is this poor kid in? How much trauma does this shit give him because there’s no way that Danny is walking away from this situation with little to no side effects