rough and whump

a whump appreciation and creation blr

[rough-and-whump]

Random Whump Prompt

The whumpee has been seriously injured during their regular duties. Nothing life threatening, but enough broken or cracked bones and sprains to keep them mostly bed bound for a week.

The caretaker, however, is worried. The medicine they gave for pain and inflammation should've worked by now - lessened things.

Why does the whumpee seem instead to be getting worse? Growing more feverish and delirious as the week passes?

"R-really, doctor. I- I swear I saw... I... N-no, nevermind. You're right... Probably just... just the fever."

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The defiant, colonel whumpee progressing from shuddered breathing, to pained gasps and grunting, constrained whimpers, watery eyes, squirming. A yelp in a higher, sharper pitch than his typical baritone. Rasped sobs. And taunted by the whumpers as he had told them prior “Get on with it.”

Taunting them only seemed to have made it worse,the whumpers even straight up admitted that while torturing the whumpee.

He will not give them information, no matter how much he feels like curling into a ball and wobbling he will not risk the life of the people that trust him with their life.

The whumpee will still be defiant, they’ll stare at one of the whumpers in the eyes and say “ is that all you have?” It makes it worse but they refuse to fall.

[rough-and-whump]

This was too good not to use as inspo for a Walter fic.

---

Forget barely controlled breathing, Walter could hardly stop his body from shaking. Despite the lieutenant's best attempts, he'd lost track of how long he'd been strung up. Between the lack of windows and the few times he'd passed out, it was impossible for him to be sure.

"Where'd that stoicism go, geezer?" The nasal drawl of his captor grated on his ears and Walter tilted his head to one side enough to get a blurry view of the thug's pacing form. The lawman fought through a spasm, keeping his jaw set as he levelled cool blue eyes at the younger man. "Though I gotta say I'm liking the panic I'm seein' in ya now."

Walter spat on the ground in front of him, a red splash of blood clearly visible and its iron taste spreading in his mouth.

"How many times I gotta tell you? Tell us the route and we'll letchu go. Gimme this shit-" the thug closed the gap between them quickly, making Walter flinch despite himself. He grunted as the man fisted his hand roughly in his silvery hair. "-and I'll make you even more miserable."

The captor wound back his spare fist, and Walter barely had time to grit his teeth before he felt the hand in his hair pull him forward into the oncoming blow.

"Nnghn!" Walter felt the impact knock the breath out of him and his vision swam as he was roughly shoved back. "Ahhh..." He groaned as his body swung nearly uncontrolled, momentum from the hit making it hard for his already weakened legs to keep him upright. If not for the chains painfully digging into his arms, he'd have crumpled.

"I'll ask again." The thug's tone changed, sending a chill down the old man's spine. A rough hand grabbed his chin and forced Walter to look into the steely eyes of his captor. "Where is the motorcade going?"

Walter stayed silent, but a disgusting part of him felt tempted to give in. The Major was in charge of security, Dispatch knew what to do if the route was compromised, Rookie wasn't on the detail.

No.

He couldn't do it. Even if there were few risks, he couldn't betray his people. Politicians be damned, he wouldn't betray his people.

"TELL ME!" The sudden roar and the tightening grip made Walter gasp in pain and surprise, enough time for the captor to force the muzzle of his gun into Walter's mouth. The metal was cold, stretching his parched lips enough to open a painful cut, and if Walter could taste anything other than blood it would've tasted horrible. As it was, he was so adrenalized nothing broke through.

Well, almost nothing.

The lieutenant couldn't fight the fearful sob that surprised even him. But as soon as he made the choked sound, he felt tears start to well up in his eyes. He couldn't help it - and it felt like his control was slipping. Whatever meager bits kept him composed were reaching their breaking points and he'd run out of resolve to shore them up. It was keep the route secret and let himself cry, or keep his composure and risk breaking.

Fuck whatever this thug would think, fuck the inevitable bloodlust his weakness would incite. He couldn't let them know.

"Are- are you cryin', old man?!" The question was a mix of emotions: surprise, disgust, elation, pride. Even through the involuntary tears building up in his eyes, Walter could see the excitement in the man's features. "Ha! Fuck, man, look at you!"

Walter choked and gagged as the thug shoved the barrel of the gun into the back of Walter's throat before holstering it again. As the lawman swung back and forth, unable to stop himself as he hung limply in the chains, the thug stepped back. After several moments, Walter realized he'd been left alone. His body shook as he looked around, unable to help the occasional coughing sob. It hurt his throat, but not as much as it tore his pride to shreds thinking about how he must look.

'When will this be over?' The thought pushed itself into his mind - the first fully formed thought he'd had in... Well, he wasn't sure. 'Why won't he just kill me?'

The second thought made him freeze. He'd never thought that before. He'd never been so close to giving up before, either. Walter couldn't even bring himself to find a way to rationalize to himself how he'd get out of this.

His quiet sobs and grunted attempts to get himself back under control echoed in the small, dark room. The pathetic scraping of his shoes on the metal floor, the jangle of the chains and he tried - and failed - to relieve some of the cramping pains in his shoulders.

Before he could fall much further down into his certainty that he wouldn't get out of this alive, loud voices in the hall made him tense. Walter felt his heart leap into his throat and begin beating like a caged hummingbird. Desperately, he pulled whatever composure he could salvage together.

He could feel dried blood in his hair from earlier beatings, and he knew his bare chest was covered in bruises and lashes. Whatever composure was left was just enough to afford him a defiant glare at the three thugs who entered the room. His original captor, a woman with a baton and eyes like a circling predator, and a built man with cybernetic knuckles that sparked with electricity.

"Aw, man, he ain't cryin'!" The woman whined, whacking her companion with her baton lightly. The man rubbed his arm and cursed at her, but looked to their companion with the knuckles and cracked a grin.

"G'won, Bruiser. Fuck 'im up a little, just make 'im cry for Stace." He said, eliciting a grunt of compliance from the brute and a hyena like laugh from the woman.

Walter braced as best he could, his muscles shaking as he tried to tense his core and steel himself for the blow. Bruiser reminded him of the Major - he wasn't sure what other augments he was hiding under his skin. That death wish Walter briefly had became terrifyingly closer to coming true with each step Bruiser took. The lawman tried to control his breathing, but it came in hitched sobs instead. He couldn't keep himself - or his lip - from trembling.

But Bruiser didn't wind up. Once the hulking man drew up next to Walter, he was almost gentle in how he slid behind his captive. Despite his huge bulk, Bruiser handled Walter carefully, gingerly tipping the old man's head back and resting one huge palm across the front of Walter's neck. It felt like he was being held up for inspection. The lawman couldn't help but almost feel relieved. The way Bruiser positioned him, it took some pressure off his shoulders. Was he... Safe?

Kkrzzzt!

"Nyaugh!" A startled yelp, higher and tenser in pitch than Walter's typically deep grunts, echoed in the room as Bruiser touched his electrified augments to Walter's bare side. The old man couldn't help the full-body seize that threw him forward. But where he expected to meet Bruiser's hand on his throat, he met instead with another round of shocks from the man's knuckles - Bruiser had turned his hand at the last moment to force a connection again. "Aaaaah!"

A third shock, this time paired with a powerful punch, threw Walter into another full-body seize. This time, he couldn't yelp. He had no air in his lungs to make any sound at all, he couldn't even breathe. For a terrifying moment that seemed to stretch on forever, he couldn't force his lungs to draw breath. He felt burning in his arms where the current sparked through the metal chains, but other than that he could almost not feeling anything at all.

"Gaaugh!" A gutteral, uncontrolled mess of a sound spilled from his lips as Walter's senses came back. His body jerked and shook uncontrollably, and his breath came in hitching sobs, but he was breathing. After a few deep gulping breaths, though, his breath came short, shallow and sobbing. More tears. More shaking.

"Ha ha ha, there he goes!" The first guy's voice had been annoying. Stace's sounded like nails on chalkboard. "He tell you anythin' yet, Orion?"

"Nah, he's still trying to be a hero. But he's cryin' now - won't hold out for long." Orion said, approaching Walter again. He leaned in, whistling at the burn marks on Walter's pale skin. "Damn, Bruiser! Good shit."

"I want a go next!" Stace exclaimed, closing the gap quickly, dragging her baton against the corrugated metal siding of one of the walls, noisy clanging grating on Walter's ears as she came close. Before she could swing, however, Bruiser held out a massive hand and grunted.

"Bruiser's right, Stace, let's give him one more chance." Orion said, stepping back to give Stace some more room and get a full view of their captive. "Where's the motorcade going, old man? Last chance. Don't get uppity or I'll let Stace fuck you up. Or let Bruiser use his knucks again."

Stace made a whining sound, but lowered her baton. Behind him, out of view, Walter heard the distinctive whirring and clicking of augmented knuckles being stretched. There was no getting out of this that Walter could see.

No way out but one.

"Was that all you got?" He spat, a shaky, watery grin spreading across his lips even as tears fell from his eyes.

'I'm sorry, Rook.'

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The defiant, colonel whumpee progressing from shuddered breathing, to pained gasps and grunting, constrained whimpers, watery eyes, squirming. A yelp in a higher, sharper pitch than his typical baritone. Rasped sobs. And taunted by the whumpers as he had told them prior “Get on with it.”

Taunting them only seemed to have made it worse,the whumpers even straight up admitted that while torturing the whumpee.

He will not give them information, no matter how much he feels like curling into a ball and wobbling he will not risk the life of the people that trust him with their life.

The whumpee will still be defiant, they’ll stare at one of the whumpers in the eyes and say “ is that all you have?” It makes it worse but they refuse to fall.

[rough-and-whump]

New whump scenario!

there’s a new teammate in town: our whumpee. 

New to a team that’s been high functioning for a long time, the whumpee faces several difficulties - chief among which are getting up to speed with the task at hand and, at the same time, integrating as seamlessly and as quickly with the rest of them as possible.

But don’t forget, classic whump still applies in this situation! 

Getting Up to Speed

Even though the whumpee is qualified, they still have to get used to the team’s set up. Where the supplies are, what the chain of command is, who’s who, etc. Maybe they spend some extra time up late studying, or exploring the base, or whatever. 

Do they get a minor injury - maybe doing something stupid like trying to reach a shelf or lifting too much shit - and try to hide it from the team so they don’t “make a bad impression”?

The whumpee is an overly analytical and slightly anxious type, making a big deal out of analyzing the culture of the team and figuring out how to adapt their behaviour to “fit in”. Maybe they get too worked up over it one night and break their nervousness to one of the other newer members of the team during late night drinks.

Clutch Moment

The team faces a test or a hard situation, one that our whumpee is in charge of handling. It's nothing impossible, but handling it well will mean a great success for the team and it's a little of a stretch for what the whumpee is comfortable dealing with.

They dig in, maybe spending a few late nights brainstorming how to fix it and psyching themselves up by recognizing how impactful success will be.

How do they feel after the crunch time is over, they've saved the day, and earned the praise of the team leader? Is there that classic collapse of exhaustion and relief at the end of the day, glad they managed to hold it together long enough to stay professional throughout the experience despite how nervous or worried they actually felt?

Did they have to handle something else on top of the strain of this clutch moment? Does something (or someone) come crashing in like a wrecking ball from their personal life? 

Old Ties

Maybe the whumpee comes in with some history. Sometime in their past, they’ve dealt with the antagonist of their new team. Maybe they were even on good terms with them.

No one on the team knows about this bond, and the antagonist makes full use of this - making uncomfortable, vague references to previous experiences which leave the team confused but the whumpee struggling to conceal their past.

Does it all come to a head? Does the whumpee finally break down and confess tearfully to the team? Do they try to stick it out and wind up in a full blown confrontation with the antagonist in front of the team?

What are the consequences? Is it just awkward explanations, or does the team end up neck deep in trouble because of the whumpee?

Bonafide Member

What’s that moment where the whumpee finally clicks into the team? What’s the first joke that lands well? What’s a big accomplishment that solidifies them?

Was their anxiety about how they integrated into the team exaggerated? 

Do they maybe overextend and end up hurt or sick because of their attempt to “earn a place”? And then on their sick bed, the team bands together to reassure them they do have a place among them?

[rough-and-whump]

OC Intro: FuturePD’s ARC Dispatch Specialist

Picture comin’

The cyberpunk nerd of FuturePD’s ARC team, who manages crisis after crisis and provides logistical support and direction in the field. Mainly supports Walter.

#Dispatch

Connor “Dispatch” McPhearson Caretaker, Whumpee 28, Male, thin build (your typical more-obsessed-with-mobile-games-than-food-water-or-sleep type) Asexual

The youngest of the team, Dispatch has a bit of an inferiority complex around that. But what he lacks in age, he makes up for in self-earned experience and razor-sharp intuition combined with quick-witted judgement.

Though outwardly cool and collected, possibly overly rational and unemotional in his interactions, Dispatch is actually a really nervous and shy individual. In a crisis, which is how most of the team first met him, he’s the vision of calm competence. But once the moment’s passed, he has a habit of falling into constant self-doubt, questioning, and re-evaluation.

He worries deeply about his colleagues, but he’s afraid of showing it for fear of being seen as unprofessional - and the professional concern that losing it while supporting action in the field has real consequences.

Relationships: Caretakes for: Sarge, rarely Walter Whumpers, rarely: Scorpion, Major

[villainsmemes-deactivated202503]

GENERAL

“Can you walk?”

“How did this happen?”

“What the hell happened?”

“I hit my head.”

“Did you hit your head?”

“Can you hear me?”

“Don’t close your eyes, stay awake!”

“Come on, stay with me!”

“No no no no no!”

“You shot me!”

“I didn’t mean to shoot you!”

“You stabbed me!”

“I didn’t mean to stab you!”

“Take the knife out!”

“Don’t take the knife out!”

“It was an accident!”

“That/this wasn’t an accident!”

“That looks broken.”

“I think my leg/arm is broken.”

“That doesn’t look good.”

“Am I going to die?”

“You’re not going to die!”

“Calm down!”

“Don’t panic!”

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me!”

BLOOD

“Are you bleeding?”

“Don’t move, you’re bleeding.”

“Is that blood?”

“Whose blood is that?”

“That’s a lot of blood.”

“Do you know how to get bloodstains out?”

“Why do you know how to get bloodstains out?”

“Damn, I got blood on my shirt.”

“Don’t move, you’re losing blood!”

“I won’t let you bleed out!”

“You have blood on your face.”

“I swear to god, if you get blood on me…”

“What’s your blood type?”

“Why in the hell would you need to know my blood type?”

WOUNDS

“That cut is nasty.”

“You have a massive gash in your arm/leg!’

“Don’t touch it!”

“Don’t move, you’ll only make it worse!”

“I’ll get some bandages.”

“You’re going to need stitches.”

“That looks infected…”

“Did you get bit by something?”

“There’s no exit wound, the bullet is still in you.”

“There’s an exit wound, the bullet went through you.”

AFTERCARE

“How are you feeling?”

“How does it feel?”

“It’s still not healed, but it’s getting there.”

“Let’s go home.”

“I just want to go home.”

“Let’s get you into the bathtub.”

“We need to change your bandages soon.”

“Get some sleep, okay?”

“You need to eat something, you’ve been through a lot today.”

“I’ll check up on you in a bit.”

“You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

[sleepy-typer-dotcom]

hello whump community!!

i’m Bee{ or Cryptic, i don’t mind either! } and i'm a fairly recent but a huge fan of whump. i enjoy physical whump, psychological whump, happy endings, and everything in between !! i'm 16, biromantic demisexual, and use he/him and they/them pronouns. i get very wordy with my writing, especially around 2-4AM. i put my characters..through a lot. i’ll introduce them soon !!

gonna tag some whump blogs i follow, hope y’all don’t mind that-

@welcome-to-the-mind-whump @whumpers-galore @whumpersketch @whumpster-dumpster @rough-and-whump @whump-dream

[rough-and-whump]

Welcome, Bee~!

Aw, thanks so much for the tag - I’m really happy you enjoy my stuff! Thank you for being a follower. :D

I look forward to seeing your stuff! >w<

[rough-and-whump]

RWT: Spoken Word - Magic/Superpower Edition

Inspired by this post by @galaxy-whump, that fantastic whumperfly chaser. <3

Losing Strength/Collapsing

“I-I can’t hold it! It’s gaining too much strength! Guh! N-no, I’m fine, just- just get back!”

“Nngh!” [they grab their head, a sharp and searing pain rocketing through what feels like their whole brain] “N-no, it’s fine, I got it. Th-the shield takes a bit out of me, but I’ll hold. It’s okay... it’s okay.”

[Struggling to control a summon or maybe a rebelling mind-controlled whumpee?] “No! No! You will obey! Aaaah! Nngh! Stop- Stop resisting! Stop resisting and listen!”

“I’ll hold ‘im here - you go! Go!” [after their team has gone ahead with trepidation, they turn to the enemy and let down their mask - they’re exhausted, hurt, on the verge of collapse] “cough-cough! Alright... now it’s just you and me... C’mon, le’see what you got.” (Bonus if they’re swaying on their feet)

Challenges/Duels

“Look, I don’t know who told you you had a chance against me, but whoever they are? They’re lying to you. You have no hope in the Seven Hells. Back down, now, or I’ll show you how outmatched you really are.”

“Ha! You think that is enough to stop me? Have you forgotten just how easily I beat you into the ground last time? One silly little gadget isn’t going to save you now.”

“Put your hands up, goddamit! I am not going to let this go without a fight-!” [one of their team grabs the speaker, trying to get them to calm down - in their rage, the speaker knocks their teammate to the ground and seethes down at them] “Get off me, goddamit! I’ve had enough!”

After a Loss

“’What he would have wanted’?! How could you know?! How could any of us know?! He died, all alone, far away from us, saving us from that monster! How could you let him die!... How could we let him die...”

[A's rival, B, approaches them after a big battle cost A their (secret) lover. B is usually always at A's throat, but right now they're genuinely worried their rival might do something bad.] “Y-you okay? I, uh, I know she meant a lot to you... A-are you crying? Why- whoa, hey, okay, uh... Here, uh, scootch over; you, uh, you wanna tell me about her?”

[A is the pillar of strength-type commander, marshaling their forces after a loss, but before a big and inevitable fight. They speak like Marshal Pentecost in Pacific Rim.] “I know! You’re tired. You’re hurt. You’re sad. We’ve lost a lot of friends; family. We can’t get them back. They’re gone... They gave their lives for us, today. Here. To make this stand. So strap in. We’ll have time for grief later. For now, let’s go reclaim our fallen brothers and sisters.”

Healing with Magic

“Wh-why isn’t it working-?! Mngh! C-c’mon... C’mon!” [panting as they take a break from pushing more arcane power through their hands than they have in a long time] “Work! Work! There! Hah! Yes, breathe, breathe, come on!”

[The Healer’s magic is tied to their life force - the more they heal, the weaker their own life force becomes. If they cross a point of no return, they’ll die from magical exhaustion - this Healer is the last one standing in his assigned area, and he’s coming up on the point of no return.] “It’s alright, it’s alright, I’ve got you. Ngh! Al-almost there... No, no, not gonna stop. It’s already too late for me, already passed it. Just keep- keep fighting, keep fighting.” [The Healer falls into mumbling as the life leaves him and flows into his patient, who’s left with the lifeless body of their savior and a battle raging all around them.]

This one’s been sitting in drafts for a while. I hope you enjoy! 

[rough-and-whump]

Is this a hint? I’mma take that as a hint.

Thanks again to all my followers! I’m still completely astounded by your interest and support. 

Have a Happy Valentine’s Day, whumpthusiasts!

[rough-and-whump]

Whumpee archetypes going into a fight they think they can win only to get overpowered eaisly?

Ooooh, yes, I love this.

Strong!Whumpee

Whumpee has a history of being the "tough guy". They're one of the stronger members of their team, pride themselves in being a protector, and work hard to maintain their strength. They're the classic muscled hero type, well-versed in fighting and martial techniques. Physically strong and and a good tactician. But they aren't prepared for a whumper that completely circumnavigates that - that uses mind control, or perhaps possesses them. Takes control over their minds with the snap of a finger and forces them to turn on their team, instead. Every instinct in the whumpee screams at them to fight, but they're powerless. Every muscle under the complete control of their whumper. They can't even plead with them to stop - their voice won't work.

Or perhaps, the whumper is just... too strong. Stronger than anyone expected. The whumpee charges forward, trading blows at first and feeling confident. A grin on their face as they wail on the whumper - only for their fist to be caught by a hand with a crushingly strong grasp. Though the whumpee fights against it, straining with everything they have to stand up to the whumper, with just that one hold the whumper forces them onto their knees. "What was it you were saying?" The whumper ponders as they stand above the whumpee, now silent with fear and wide-eyed and shaking. "Ah, yes... 'Is that all you can do'?"

Clever!Whumpee

Everything was going according to plan. Z knew her way in and around this place like the back of her hand - guard patrols, time to get from one room to the next, where every extraction target was, and how long it would take to get to every exit. She was certain of her preparations - which didn't make the shock of being grabbed by the back of her collar any easier. Before she could throw an elbow to the face or free herself from the grab, a guard's vicelike hold cinched around her arms and ribs, crushing her. She couldn't even turn around - she didn't get it. This hallway was supposed to be empty for another three minutes, wha-? Her thoughts scrambled as a stun gun was pressed into her and fired off, a charge painfully shooting through her body. She could barely breathe... What... How'd this happen?

Ahhh, I'm so sorry - this is all I have time for before I run off to an appointment! I hope this is alright, @summon-daze! 

Thank you so much for the ask, and if I think of anything more, I'll let you know! I really enjoy this sort of thing, too, though. Real awesome. :3

[trekwhump]

May 2020 be a year filled with satisfying canon whump

[fyeahvulnerablemen]

Hear, hear 🍻🎊🎉

[rough-and-whump]

I third this motion!

[rough-and-whump]

RWT: Dialogue, Optimistic Whumpee Edition

Having faith in other people is a hard thing to do, especially when life is hard on you. But despite all the horrid things their lives throw at them, these optimistic!- and resolute!whumpees have big hearts and strong souls. They know their team is coming to rescue them. They have an unshakeable faith. 

Not because they ignore their situations, but because they know their teams.

“D-do what you want, it’s fine. They’re coming for me. They’re going to be here. They won’t leave me.”

“It- ah!- it doesn’t matter what you do. You could kill me, that’s fine. They’re still heading right for you. It isn’t me you need to worry about. It’s them. They’re coming for you.”

“‘Abandon me’? Hah- ngh! Oh, don’t make me laugh - heh, no. We don’t abandon our own. We weren’t taught that lesson. We were taught to fight, tooth and nail, for one of our own. ‘Abandon me’? Doesn’t sound like my team.”

“I- *cough* I see what you’re trying to do here. You’re trying to make me doubt them. You think-” [the whumpee shifts to fix their gaze on the whumper with a resolute, unguarded, pinning stare] “-you can shake my faith in them.” [smirk]

“Th-they’re on their way. I know they are. They’re on their way. They’re gonna come. They’ll be here. They’ll be here.”

Inspired by the spirit of resilience, as well as the genderfluid tiefling bard of my DnD party who was captured by three swamp hags in a rando dungeon we ended up in. They sang pirate songs and were a general asshole to all the hags and was ultimately dropped into a boiling cauldron, but they came to the rescue of my half-orc barbarian who was trying desperately to get to them. 

Here’s to a New Year of resilience, belief in our fellow human despite all the signs we shouldn’t, respecting boundaries, and delicious, delicious whump.

[knivestothroats]

there’s a lot of “keeping people as pets and making them wear collars” in the whump community but I just saw a picture of a spiked collar and now i’m thinking like…. keeping people as attack dogs

[rough-and-whump]

I have no clue why, but somehow I find this wholesome.

Walter in a spiked collar sardonically going “bork bork”.

[rough-and-whump]

❄🌟

Thank you for the ask! With no OCs listed, I’mma go with the folks from #FuturePD since I haven’t featured them in a bit.

🌟: When your OC loses all hope, who do they turn to first? What helps make them feel better? What calms them down and reassures them? Why? Feat. The Sarge

For all her rough and tumble, and her difficulty in trusting people, Sarge turns to her boyfriend and partner, Dai, for comfort when she feels hopeless. Not because she’s weak - but because he’s proven able to handle her when she “falls” in her mind. Where others balk at what what they might perceive as weakness, Dai just sees his girlfriend hurting and does everything he can to support her and get her through her rough spot. 

In the immediate moment, Dai’s most powerful tool to help disarm Sarge’s stress is a simple headpat or head-scritch. Something where he plays with her hair - something that reassured her as a kid - and holds her close to him. Once she’s calmed down a bit, Dai turns to disarming Sarge’s overly critical self-talk and self-image. He tries to help her see the reality of a situation rather than her often overblown worst fears about it.

Sarge’s favourite thing about Dai is his voice. While normally he’s quite rough himself, he’s really unguarded around her, and that sort of mutual vulnerability makes them both able to connect in a genuine way. 

❄️: What makes your OC sad, so sad that they can’t help but cry all day? How do they cheer themself up? Does their sadness upset any of their loved ones too? Feat. The Rookie

Rook’s a bit of a youngling when it comes to getting sad. He’s sad if he hurts someone’s feelings (or thinks he does), sad if he gets negative feedback, sad if he doesn’t get what he wants (or thinks he wants), sad if he disappoints someone - etc. 

But what sets him off more than anything else is if he thinks he hurts his boyfriend, Walter. Which, honestly, is hard to do - and while Walt might display brief flashes of hurt or offense, they’re temporary. He’s an old man - he’s been through worse than whatever Rook can throw at him, but he’s still human. Still got feelings.

Rook tends to isolate, nurse his sadness and hurt and negative self-image, then realize at some point in time around hour 6 that he’s being a bit ridiculous. 

So he’ll go out to do something to feel ridiculous. He’ll go to a park or a coffee shop and wear stupid reflecting glasses and people watch. Try to get himself out of his own head. But he’ll bring along one of a dozen random dime-a-dozen books paperbacks he keeps for just such occasion and try to find the strangest, most ridiculous line of dialogue he can.

Rook’s extreme response of sadness when he hurts Walter of course hurts the man himself, but Walt’s come to realize that’s just how Rook is. At first, he used to read into it, thinking it was his fault that Rook “went off the deep end” (Walt’s words). But of course, that wasn’t the case. It took a few years for Walt to let himself off the hook - and it happened with a lot of help and context from Rook as well. Rook had to explain to Walter more than once that he wasn’t trying to guilt him, and he wasn’t trying to manipulate him - he was just... sad. And had to deal with it alone, and preferred to do it alone. 

Rook knew what he liked to do to make himself feel better, and he knew he also had to feel sad in the moment. A product of a different time, it took Walter a bit to understand this. But he got there with Rook’s time and patience. The defining argument was when Rook drew parallels between his “sad episodes” and Walter’s “mad episodes” where the older man would often go on rants and raves about things that Rook considered commonplace or “normal”.

While they’re very different people, they’re also still highly compatible. And they love each other, through it all.

(Gaw, I’ve never thought that much about the relationships between my FuturePD cast couples. There’s certainly some parts of my current relationship eeking their way in there, but there’s also a lot of observations of close friends of mine and their relationships, too. Humans are fascinating. And I think I ought to take a page out of Rook’s book and do the whole people watching thing and ridiculous dialogue sometime, too.)

[rough-and-whump]

🌓 ❓💕 👀 for the OC ask game!

Oooh, yay!

Since no OCs were specified, I’m going with a grab bag of my choice.

🌓 :  Early mornings or late nights? What do they spend their time doing during these hours? Feat. Tibenoch and the Commander.

Tibenoch is an early bird - 4AM or earlier. He enjoys waking before most of the others, taking the time to stroll around or think about things he hasn’t had time to think about. It’s also when his mind is at its best, and when he often has the best insights into an infiltration route or a new method to conceal a frequented supply route.

Commander is a definite night owl, but also a bit of a morning lark by necessity, too. So she burns the candle on both ends. Her time at night is spent namely on strategizing and taking in information from the day. Late in the night, it’s the only time she has to spend to herself - and it’s usually limited to a single drink or a rushed conversation with Lylen. She struggles to keep time for herself and knows its starting to become a problem.

❓ :  A random fact or short drabble! Or make up your own question to ask the OC! Feat. Shae and Lylen.

Shae is trying her best to learn to knit, but she has a hard time understanding yarn.

Lylen is allergic to cats, but loves them so much that he’ll take all the allergy pills just so he can still cuddle them (or try to, because cats).

💕: How is your OC like with physical affection? What are their boundries? Do they enjoy being touched or is that a no-go? Is there any reason behind this? Feat. Marek.

Marek loves hugging, but he’s leery of any lingering touch or hard/heavy handed contact. He loves physical contact, and was raised by his very physically affectionate aunt. Marek also finds physical touch to be a great tool for communication and reassurance. 

👀: Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! Feat. Lylen through the eyes of the Commander.

“Lylen?” The Commander clarified, looking up with her brow furrowed from her paperwork. “He’s a great lieutenant.” She declared.

After a moment’s worth of shuffling the papers, aware that the question still hung in the air, the Commander sighed and leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t irritated at the question - just irritated that it was getting in the way of work.

“Lylen is a...” She began, her tone precise and sharp. But she paused, took a deep breath and forced her shoulders to lower. It was past 11PM - she could take a moment to just relax. No operations were planned for the following week, she had time. She let herself gaze at the mug Lylen had gifted her - it was austere, plain, and somewhat industrial. But it sported a small element of tasteful design with its somewhat geometric handle. A ghost of a smile crossed the woman’s lips. “He’s a good man. Honest, straightforward, compassionate. Sometimes to a fault, but then again, I’m hardly a good judge of that.”

She leaned forward, eyeing the mug with a warmth rarely seen on her features. “He’d give his life for me...” Her expression grew somewhat concerned and weary as she got to the end of that statement, and she looked away from the mug. “I’d do the same for him - readily. He’s... he’s more important than he realizes, I think. At least, I hope he doesn’t realize...”

Thank you for the ask! I hope these scratched your itch! >w<

They definitely scratched mine. :3 

[rough-and-whump]

Heya! I saw your BTHB card! May I request Interrogation? I'm new to your OCs so you can pick so I can be introduced! Thank you!!! 😊

Hello!

Oooh, for sure! This actually goes along awesome with the prompt I'm working on for Whipping.

You'll be introduced to Tibenoch, my darling secret agent whumpee.

Thank you so much for your request! >w<

[rough-and-whump]

Dialogue prompts for strong, stoic whumpees that have their powers repressed by the whumper as torture?

ooh, I like this! Now, I define “stoic” in the more classic, philosophic way - not “unfeeling of emotion” but rather “practiced at temporary emotional detachment”.

So keep that in mind as you read these. These prompts are from a perspective of characters who have already anticipated the worst - the loss of their power - and accepted it.

“’R-repressed’? Hah, that’s fine. Strip away what you will - you’re still not getting anything out of me.”

“You think I didn’t already know I was powerless? I was lucky to begin with, this is nothing new.”

“Ngh! Wha-?” [realizing their power’s been stripped, the whumpee quickly forces their features into as expressionless a mask as they can - but perhaps their inner panic betrays itself elsewhere like a tapping foot or an increase in blinking] “Look, even without my powers, I still won’t give in to you.”

“If you think restricting me is going to work for you, you’re wrong. What I can do - it isn’t for use in this kind of situation. They’re coming - they’re who you need to look out for. Not me.”

((goddamit all of these are fuckin’ bargainers, too, pretty much. Looks like negotiating!whumpees has to be a new dialogue collection, ha ha!))