#were they horrible but the whumpee craves seeing them anyway?????

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Whumpees! Calling! Out! For! A ! Parent!!!!

What's the situation? Do they wake up from a nightmare disoriented and confused, enough so that it takes them a second they forget they aren't with their parents and call out to the first person they see, only to be embarrassed a moment later when they realize? Are they so delirious they actually think their dad is there with them when it's really just an unrelated caretaker who's heart is breaking for them? Are they so scared, sick, or in pain that they just really really want their mom and don't care if that's impossible right now?

[rough-and-whump]

RWT: Drugged Edition

I know I did a RWT: Spoken Word on drugged scenarios, but I was so inspired by a recent post from @thewhumpster that I needed to write a whole other collection of whumpy thoughts.

This post is informed by my own experience with drugs (weed, alcohol, painkillers), my research as an aspiring psychonaut, and then the rest is just whumpy fluff because why not?

[There’s a bit of an “Author’s Note” about drugs at the bottom - but for now - to the whump!]

Psychedelics/Hallucinogens

A whumpee who is very experienced in psychedelics/hallucinogens/harder drugs is dosed with something he knows is bad news. He’s tried it once before, cautiously and with a lot of preparation, but it was still horrible and he never felt tempted to try it again. He’s been dosed with the equivalent of a heroic dose, and the come up is just starting - he knows panicking will make it worse, but he’s so fucking terrified. (might do a write up of this with the Sarge’s surprisingly delinquent bf, Dai)

A caretaker - who appears to the team to be a straight-and-narrow type - is thrown into the spotlight when the whumpee comes back having just been dosed with their first psychedelic. The whumpee is already falling to anxiety and spiraling into a bad trip. No one knows what to do and the tension in the room is making it worse. The caretaker breaks their silence, carries the whumpee into a small room, cozies it up and proceeds to trip sit of the fucking year. They reassure the whumpee, make them comfortable, talk about whatever (idk yet what a shroom convo sounds like), etc. They manage to get the whumpee calm, keep them reassured, etc. Finally, the whumpee falls asleep and the caretaker can leave them to sleep - with every intention of coming back in just a second - so they leave the room. Once the door closes behind them, they sink to the floor, shaking and breaking down. Finally letting themselves express the fear and terror they felt the entire time, but forced down so that they wouldn’t trigger a bad trip for the whumpee.

A whumpee’s terror at what’s actually fairly mundane things, amplified by a strong hallucinogen that induces paranoia and fear.

A heavily drugged whumpee is sent out - unarmored and unarmed - into the middle of some sort of active battlefield. They’re delirious, starved, sleep deprived, and barely able to walk. Visuals, distortions and complete removal of a sense of reality overwhelm them. Can the whumper feel what’s going on? Are they afraid? What do you think they see? What does their side of the fight do? Are they even on a side in this fight?

Painkillers

Our whumpee is a high-powered businesswoman. Some sort of executive, she’s the sort of woman who commands a room the second her high-heels meet the marble flooring. But she’s not only addicted to painkillers, she can’t function without them. Her doctor has told her she’ll die of liver failure before she’s 50 if she keeps going the way she is. She has trouble sleeping, struggles with heart palpitations, and can’t even remember what it’s like not on the pills. But she craves the light-headed disorientation that comes with an excessive dose. She needs it. Can’t deal with all these people, all the dresses, all the fucking high heels, without them. 

A poor naive cinnamon roll whumpee accidentally (maybe a mislabeled bottle, or they grabbed a handful and went for it out of desperation) takes too many painkillers. As they start to feel loopy, they freak out. It’s like they can feel their heart pounding, they feel like their eyes are wigging out, and they don’t know if they’re walking straight. 

Fictional/Fantasy Drugs

[Fictional] A drug enhances Powers, and a poor whumpee has been injected. Do they suffer from horrible side-effects as their Powers increase? Are the side effects from their Power or the drug? Do they struggle to control their powers and end up doing something they regret? Or making a costly mistake?

[Fantasy] A friend in the party is a lycan - but it’s a secret, and no one knows. All they know is she brews a special tea and enjoys it nightly, and drinks it nearly constantly some days (DC 12 Investigation reveals those are days surrounding the full moon). A curious little rascal in the party sneaks some of the tea - and discovers it has horrible consequences for non-lycans. How does the party react?

[Fictional] In a sci-fi world, there’s a rare drug that’s actually a sort of self-contained virus. A naive rookie (here comes #FuturePD again) tries to infiltrate a local dealer’s circle and gets caught. He’s injected with the drug and he’s entirely unfamiliar with how to navigate it - what’s his reaction? What are the sensations? Is he suggestable irl? Is he locked in his own mind with his body free to control?

Bonus Scenarios!

Bonus to the Psychedelics/Hallucinogens 2: The team confronts the caretaker after check up number 3 on the sleeping whumpee. They demand to know why/how the caretaker knows so much about this (maybe they’re suspicious that the caretaker might’ve been working in league with the whumper?). The caretaker admits that they use psychedelics regularly, including microdosing, which is the only way they could keep up with the team. Considering caretaker is their key tactician, this surprises the group - they’ve always been the “smart one”. The caretaker is afraid of the team’s reactions, considering they think that everyone else is straight and narrow types. 

Bonus to Psychedelics/Hallucinogens 2: The Caretaker reveals to the team later that they were raised to think using anything “additional” was not only a weakness but a sin. The drugs Caretaker uses now are almost a sign of their progress in breaking out of the “conditioning” their family put them through growing up.

[Author’s Note time: I am getting all preachy and all political. If that’s not your jam, gtfo quick. Don’t @ me, bruh. If that be your jam, tho, proceed with caution and remind yourself that I’m some idiot on Tumblr and not a fuckin’ doctor. 

Continued under the break.] 

So, I do drugs. Weed, namely, but I do intend to trip on shrooms soon.

Growing up, I never even knew where to get weed. Since legalization I’ve been using it more and more. I’ve found many benefits from it and it’s changed how I think about drugs.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that caffeine, tobacco, and alcohol are all drugs. Sometimes it’s easy to accept side-effects from drugs we can buy from the pharmacy. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that drugs like weed, LSD, shrooms, and others have legitimate and actual medical use.

That said, it’s also easy to wave a magic wand or put on green glasses and think “hey, it’s a medicine, so I can use it for anything”.

There’s a difference between using a drug as recreation or medication and abusing it to the point of dependency.

I used to pop 4 platinum robax in the parking lot before I dragged myself into the office (this was years ago now) and have 4-12 more throughout the day. Because the mindless disorientation made it easier to deal with the shit I was seeing at work and the abuse my bosses doled out. I continued this for 3 months. 

I would almost always be dizzy. It became something like my goal to always be somewhat “off”. Because then at least I wasn’t confronting my reality.

That didn’t work out well for me. I had to go on medical leave within 6 months. I was a wreck physically for about a year, and it’s only recently that I feel like I’ve finally gotten all that robax out of my system.

Getting out of that shithole, getting psychological help, and getting a diagnosis for Generalized Anxiety Disorder did help. And now, after two years of pharmaceutical SSRIs and therapy, I’m beginning to transition away from pharmaceutical SSRIs. I don’t want to have to take drugs my whole life, but if I must, I’d rather take CBD oil made out of a plant and MCT oil than something synthesized in a lab that has a marked chance of giving me liver failure, increased risk of heart disease, etc.

Seeking psychological help is healthy - it doesn’t mean you’re “weak” or you’re “crazy” or anything like that. It just means you need some help from a professional life-problem solver. Who happens to know how to talk you in circles enough that your own brain starts finally listening to you and not your insecurities and demons.

Anyways. That’s it for Rough being a pontificating bitch. I have whump to do.

Be safe, do drugs, practice harm reduction.

[arlothia]

Hi, how about 4, 6, 10 and 18 for the whump asks? Thanks! :) -S

Oooh! Thank you for the ask @straight-to-the-pain​!

So these numbers are from THIS post if those reading this feel inclined to ask *waggly eyebrows* You can also ask them over at @viva-la-whump​ which is my whump-centric blog :)

Anyway, onward!!!

4 - Do you prefer physical whump or emotional/psychological whump?

Definitely physical! Emotional and psychological have their place, but usually when they’re tied with physical whump.

6 - What are the traits of your ideal whumpee?

Adult male characters for sure, usually somewhat attractive (physically or characteristically, like they’re just good people. Though usually if someone conventionally unattractive is a really nice person then I see them as more physically attractive, but I digress...). 

I usually like them to be strong characters, if not with regards to muscles then to just have a certain type of power to them, whether it be the leader of a group, the mentor/fatherly character. The silent brooding “I never smile” types are fun, but I can totally whump people-persons, too. It’s really nice to see those who have a lot of control and who don’t normally express themselves much to be either a) in pain and all that entails, or b) the caregiver where they finally express overt worry over someone (and this could also count as emotional whump as mentioned above!). 

And weirdly enough, their faces have to be just right. So in visual mediums like TV or movies, the actor has to be good. If a guy does a horrible job portraying whump, then it just won’t do it for me. They have to have a good “pain face” and be able to portray lots of different emotions, whether it be portraying pain, exhaustion, fear, or that wonderful worry over someone else. And from what my sister and I have found, their eyebrows play a big part! Usually when we see a new character (the Chosen character), we’ll usually comment “He’s got good eyebrows”, especially if we’re in mixed company ;P

So yeah, attractive adult male who has power and/or authority in some way and can act! :)

10 - When did you first realize you were into whump?

So I give my whump biography HERE, but basically, I was let’s say 6-ish years old and there was this magic special we had recorded onto a VHS and I loved watching this one part where a woman had a huge drill go through her middle and I always got this weird squeezing feeling in my gut. I don’t have clear memories of really getting into hurt characters other than that before my pre-teen years, but I know I’ve always liked it, and it was maybe about five or so years later when I realized that my sister and I both like whump.

18 - What whump content are you currently craving?

Ooo gosh....I’m going to have to go with Character A is injured somewhere on his torso (always a good place for whump!) and he collapses and either he’s rescued by friends after he’s gone unconscious or is just barely clinging onto wakefulness and THEN passes out. They’re in a dangerous place/situation so the friends need to get him out of there and to safety so they can patch him up. Then the inevitable fever sets in and he’s all sweaty and breathing heavy and writhing slightly as he tries to get away from this heat and whoever’s trying to grab at them because it hurts! And then when the fever breaks he wakes up all weak and with fluttering eyes and he’s confused about where he is and what’s happened. So he tries to get up to figure out what’s going on and he hurts himself doing so, and then out of nowhere these gentle hands and soft voice calm him down and set him back on the improvised bed they’ve put him on...

Is this a scene I’m currently writing in my brain for a fic that I think about as I’m going to sleep basically every night? Maaaaaybe!

[well-im-whumped-blog]

Hiiii, you probably totally didn't expect me to send you a request, since I totally didn't ask about the fandoms, buuuut anyway, can I request, from the bingo card, "you said you would let them go" with irondad and whumpee Peter? I would be forever grateful :D

Thank you for requesting (-: This one was a lot of fun to write for!!@badthingshappenbingo special thanks to them for giving me a bingo card! One down, let’s see how far we get!!

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Mysterious Symbiote 👀———————

Tony burst through the windows of the facility. Lab tables were overturned and bodies lay scattered along the pale floors. He came to a halt mid-air. He raised his hand, repulser generating as his voice carried.

“Let him go,” he demanded. His stern gaze showed threw his iron mask, lights glaring as he locked eyes with the red blob which latched onto a lashing Peter. The tendrils coiled around the kid and the more it did, the more Tony wanted to blow it to Hell.

“Friday, what is that thing?”

“Scanning now, sir,” the AI replied. The screen before Tony’s eyes was shooting off a cascade of information. Images of related incidents were highlighted as the pulsing creature continued to writhe along the suit of a terrified Peter Parker.

Peter shot webs out aimlessly as he gripped the symbiote with the other hand. He groaned as he attempted to rip it off his suit, yet with every inch it was pulled away, the more it clung to his limbs.

“It appears to be an entity not from our world,” Friday began. Tony nodded slowly, taking in all that she was telling him. “It’s signature is unique to this laboratory, it is the byproduct of hybridizations of some alien manifestation; parasitic in nature.”

Tony nodded and inhaled sharply. He lowered his palm and descended until he landed. As much as he wanted to use his repulsers, accidentally hurting Peter in the process was too high a risk, among others.

He ordered another scan, searching for any biological weakness to the creature that was coiling  around the very kid who had just been talking about his  “A Honor-Roll Ribbon” not an hour before.

“Mr. Stark, I’m not sure how long I can-” Peter managed before falling to his knees. The sound his palms hitting the cold floor drove a shiver down the spine of his mentor.

He couldn’t help but yelp as the creature wrapped itself tighter around him, desperate to bond with the boy and make him its host. The tendrils formed long fingers which tugged at the bottom of his mask. Peter blinked rapidly, his heart rattling as panic set-in. With a shaky exhale, he used both hands to keep his mask down, effectively giving way for the rest of the symbiote to curl around the rest of him.

“Friday, engage in-” Tony paused as he watched the red ooze crawl over Peter’s mask, hiding his entire face. His knees grew weak as the limbs of the kid slowly became limp, as the symbiote continued to overtake his physical frame.

“Pete?” Tony called. “Kid, come on, you were doing real good a minute ago.” He lifted his mask, almost frozen in fear. No way he was seeing this right. Peter wouldn’t give up this easily. He was too smart to be possessed. He had to be.

“Pete’s not home,” the red ooze had materialized as a new face of its own making; sharp fangs and long claws that extended just over the real body of its host. It rose slowly, breathing in and out, tasting the air with a long  hiss.

Tony’s mask came smack down within an instant. His repulser transformed into a much heavier form of artillery, it was now pointed at the beast before him. His aiming systems were loaded and he was prepared to mercilessly engage.

“Let him go, now,” he bit back tears as he spoke. He couldn’t be afraid right now. If Peter was still in there, he’d surely lose hope if he saw the Iron Man reveal his own vulnerabilities. Tony couldn’t have his favorite kid lose faith. Not ever.

“Blood, give me the blood,” the voice came again. The symbiote got on all fours, crawling towards Tony, chuckling as it approached in an animalistic nature. Through the tightly woven filaments of the creature, he could see the classic Spider suit.

Tony scanned the room without any hesitation. Peter must’ve pushed it to the side earlier in the fight, he rationalized.

Bingo.

Tony located the vials beneath the overturned desk, they were covered by papers though that much didn’t appear intentional. He turned to face the parasite. The alien lab experiment gone horribly wrong.

“I give it to you, you give me the kid?” Tony hardly asked. He stood square, one hand in a tight fist, the other hiding behind an even larger repulser.

The creature tilted its head, chuckling as it did so. It tapped its fingers along the stone floor, the echo breaking the momentary silence. It got low, almost as if ready to pounce.

“Cross my heart,” it hissed, taking a long talon and forming an imaginary ‘x’ along its chest.

“Hurry, Mr. Stark,” it spoke once more, this time, it used the voice of Peter. “It’s getting dark in here!”

Tony snarled as he immediately flew to where the vials had been slid to. He grabbed them without any a moments’ hesitation. Had he been withholding his urge to shake, he surely wouldn’t dropped the blood right then and there.

He shot back up, propelling himself back to where he was prior. He held up what it was that the symbiote craved desperately.

“Take the damn things,” Tony barked. “Let the kid go, now.” He sharpened his gaze, prepared to do whatever else it took to bargain with the monstrosity before him.

The symbiote let loose a long tendril which stretched to take the vials being presented. The fingers formed as clutched them all at once. Before retracting, Tony grabbed it, repulser firing in preparation.

“The kid,” Tony annunciated. His mask flew up, exposing his face, exposing the frustration and anger that hid behind the iron.

The symbiote let out a screech, jowls locked open as the howls rang through.

Without hesitation, Tony fired his repulser, cutting the limb off clean. It was limp, vials laying in the palm. This lasted less than a second as the hand shut and stretched out to rejoin the body. With the other limb, it threw Tony against the wall.

Tony pulled himself out of the wall he was temporarily lodged in. He located the symbiote once more, raising himself so he could be in the air once more.

“You said you’d let him go,” Tony was in a state of shock, his head ringing. He flew closer to the symbiote, whom had just crushed the vials, absorbing the tampered blood richly. Tony landed sloppily, unsure of what to do next. Not even Friday offered a solution.

The symbiote pulsed madly, the new blood coursed threw it. Its limbs extending until they came down on the floors, the size of the entire creature increased.

With a plop, Peter fell from the chest of the symbiote. Tony didn’t waste any time on moving in. He shot off from his position, ignoring the red creature who was now escaping through the windows that had been broken much earlier in the confrontation.

Tony pulled Peter towards him, Peter’s mask had been ripped off, leaving a faint and pale 15 year old in his arms.