Whump Vibes

Cas | They/Them | I enjoy whump and sometimes I write stuff for it | 20

[hollywolly3000]

An automatic content warning on a missing persons post for a trans woman is the most vile and evil shit this site can fucking do

Original post

Please keep an eye out if you’re in the New Orleans area

[cometsans67]

dont get me fucking started girl -_- i requested a review. im too tired to do much else

[comfortingcatharsis]

A character so exhausted or sunk into their own misery of pain that they're stumbling along by rote without any real awareness of their surroundings until they essentially collide with another character who steps into their path and catches hold of them.

[were--ralph]

i dont need to tell anyone this but theres a White House App out and do not download it even as a joke

[were--ralph]

Literally do not. Like. if you already did then you may want to factory reset your device(s) and change any possibly affected credentials

[pinkrangerv]

According to people who work with code, this may actually be able to close a 911 call because Trump wants to send a fundraiser email through it.

It also seems like it will go off, sound and vibration, whenever someone posts. Trump is awake at 2 AM. You will not be able to shut off your phone or stop the noise until you handle this. It will also drain your battery by being a surprise 2 AM noisemaker.

Don't put it on your phone. It's actually stealing less data than I expected (I mean, yes, OBVIOUSLY it's tracking your location and sending that to any cop who's bored, but it isn't taking any credit card info, so hey, that's nice), but it still can access and fuck up anything saved on your phone, record any unlocking method you use including fingerprint and face, and seems to want to do so to force you to suddenly have an explosion of noise.

Again: this may extend to dropping a call for an ambulance.

Don't install it.

[zeemczed]

I Decompiled the White House's New App

The official White House Android app has a cookie/paywall bypass injector, tracks your GPS every 4.5 minutes, and loads JavaScript from some

[pinkrangerv]

NEW INFORMATION CAME OUT!

Based on this article and other discussions with tech people, the app:

Provides your location, every 4.5 and 9.5 minutes, to Trump and company;

Can copy, modify, or delete information on your phone;

Can alter webpages you visit through them;

Has multiple security flaws;

Is creating a personal profile on users;

Can, in fact, interrupt phone calls, no definite answer on 911 but very likely;

Is showing signs of being spyware in unstated ways.

DO NOT INSTALL THIS.

[whumpologyy]

Caretaker cutting off Whumpee trying to deflect and saying, “Whumpee. What’s really going on?”

[an-aura-about-you]

btw while people continue to fight the system don't forget about Undue Medical Debt (formerly RIP Medical Debt), a charity that buys and forgives medical debt. on average a donation of $10 will forgive $1,000 of medical debt.

[an-aura-about-you]

I'm fairly confident that this is now the one original post I've made that has gotten the most notes, and I honestly couldn't be happier. the more attention we give this, the higher the chances that someone will see this and donate. medical debt is both one of the most crushing things a person can deal with and one of the stupidest things humanity has invented. and if you live in the US, I have no doubt that you've had to deal with medical debt in your life, either for yourself or a loved one. even a small donation can do so much good, and now is the time of year when we are encouraged to think of others.

[seasnz]

a gentle “you don’t look well ..” trailing off into a “woah, hey, hey-“ as they lurch forward to steady, or perhaps catch, a most definitely sick character.

[sickfictropes]

fatigue -> listlessness -> unconsciousness is the best whump progression. to me

[healinthehowling]

Prompts - Field Medicine

No pain medication. No anesthesia. No speciality tools. No antibiotics.

Sewing up a wound with a needle and fishing line, praying against fate that infection doesn’t set in.

Splinting a sprain with a stripped up shirt wrapped around a semi-straight branch.

Having a bone set and having to stay extremely still so as to not have the bones slip back apart.

Picking out fractured bone or bullet fragments with nothing but bloody fingers and hope.

Splashing alcohol into an already festering wound, hoping it will buy just a little more time before sepsis hits.

Belts wound around an artery so tight it hurts more than the bleeding injury itself.

Cauterizing a gash with a rusty metal rod hot enough to use as a brand.

[screamingsquamousthings]

need to see him whimpering like an injured animal, can he pleeease pleaaase lose a concerning amount of blood until he’s barely lucid. can i nurse him back to health like a baby bird pleeeeaaaaaseeeee

[screamingsquamousthings]

im normal 👍 about The Character 👍

[screamingsquamousthings]

i Need to see him having a sobbing mental breakdown on it

[mew31]

pulls up to drive thru window uhh hey can I get a gentle back-of-hand to the forehead, with a side of "you're warm" and extra soft-spoken concern?

thanks :)

[uh-whump]

Whump/Angst things that are so not original but make me go crazy every time:

Caretaker finding sick Whumpee in the middle of the night, curled up on the bathroom floor...

Feverish. And. Incoherent. Whumpee. Who. Mumbles. Complete. Nonsense. In. Their. Sleep. (This one is the one)

Whumpee being carried while their head rests on Caretaker's chest and their arm slumps down at their side.

Silent tears while being medically treated. They could be tears of relief/pain/fear... you choose.

Whumpee sobbing like a child in Caretaker's warm arms after an awful nightmare...

...and Caretaker staying with them until they fall back asleep or, even better, bringing them to their own bed so Whumpee won't be scared of being alone.

Days of silence until they finally break and tell everything to Caretaker.

"you're burning up..."

"...Caretaker?" "I'm right here"

"it's okay, it's okay, I've got you"

"you didn't do anything wrong"

"do you think you can keep some soup down?"

"please... stay" "of course"

"are you sure you're ok? You look like you're gonna pass out or puke... Or both"

Feel free to add what you like!

[jackkdaniels]

extremely good trope: injured character sees their own blood on someone else who's otherwise unscathed and gives a concerned "are you hurt?" double points if they're so injured they're barely lucid

[whump-vibes]

"I can't stand you. So please. Save us both the heartache and admit you hate me too"

@loucylastic

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Fevers

Whumpees with aching eyes, too tired to keep open yet too sore to close, even the lightest pressure of their eyelids too much

Whumpee who's too weak and dizzy to do anything at all but lie in bed completely still, sweating through their blankets only to immediately start shivering after clumsily throwing them off

Whumpees with dry mouths, dry lips

The corners of their room are more shadowy than they should be, and they're too exhausted to bother to get up and see what's in there. The Hat Man will have to just wait his turn.

Strong enough to get out of bed but being so, so out of it. Caretaker finding them standing swaying in a doorway, pale as death, clearly seeing something that isn't there

Everything seems to be flickering. The air buzzes. Their skin prickles.

Getting to sleep is hard, because their mind is restless and racing. Once they're asleep though, they're down for the count

Chattering teeth. Their bones must be rattling, for how much they ache

[warmblanketwhump]

just checking in

inspired by x from @sickfictropes

"C, would you please just check in on them?"

C groans, shutting the cupboard as they prop the phone under their ear. "B, you know how dramatic A is. They're probably zonked out on cold medicine and dead to the world."

"You didn't hear them," B says, voice pleading. "They sounded really rough on the phone."

"Yeah, because they're sick. We've all been sick. A didn't invent the concept." C tries to keep the bite out of their voice. They know A is B's friend, so they tolerate them for B's sake. But A is not someone they particularly care for.

From the moment they'd met a few years ago, they'd been at odds. A's the vivacious life of the party who thinks C's a stick in the mud. C's quiet and reserved, and thinks A's an attention seeker who always pushes things too far. Together, they're oil and water, fire and ice, two polar opposite who just never click.

Most of the time, B serves as the perfect buffer between them. But B's out of town on a work trip for the week—the exact time A had come down with the flu. Apparently, A had been feeling worse over the past few days, and B had been calling and checking in on them. Last night, A had sounded particularly rough—and when B had called them in the morning for their scheduled check-in, A didn't pick up.

So B, out of their mind with worry and unable to do a thing about it, called C.

"C, I know A's not your cup of tea. But they were like...super out of it. And they sounded scared. I think something's really wrong." B's voice wavers, and C feels a twist of guilt in their chest. “Please?”

C squeezes their eyes shut and pinches the bridge of their nose. "And there's no one else that can check on them?"

"There's no one I trust more than you."

C gazes upward with a resigned sigh. Bullseye. B's blind trust and belief in their competency would always win in the end.

"Fine. Send me their address." _________________________________________

An hour later, C's sitting in their car outside A's house—a cozy craftsman in a thickly wooded neighborhood. They glance at the bag next to them, shadowed in the evening twilight. They'd made a stop at the pharmacy for a few essentials—flu medicine, tissues, cough drops, and some herbal tea that C always liked when they were sick—but now all it just felt stupid and over the top.

I don't even like this person.

Yeah, but you're a good person, C. The rebuttal came in B's voice, and C knows it's time to rip the band-aid off.

They head up the front walk, rap, rap, rap on the cherry red door with their knuckles, then wait a few moments on the shady porch. Nothing. The shades are all drawn, and C can't get a glimpse inside.

They're probably asleep. As any sick person should be. And I'm the idiot waking them up.

But they'd promised B that they'd check on A, and they weren't leaving without proof of life. So they kick around in the small rock garden out front until they spot the hollow rock with the spare key (just like B had said), then brace themselves for a truly humiliating encounter.

"Alright, B. If A calls the cops on me for breaking and entering, I'm holding you responsible." With a twist of the key, C opens the door and pushes inside.

The house is quiet, save for the whirr of a small air humidifier in the corner of A's living room. C's been here with B for a few rowdy parties, so it's strange to see the house so devoid of life.

"A? You in here?" C calls through the house, an uneasy feeling they can't name settling in their stomach. They drop the bag at the door and wander the main floor of the house, the only evidence of a sick person being a collection of used mugs scattered across the counter and in the sink. But still, no sign of A.

Like I said. Upstairs. Asleep. C pads up the creaky stairs until to a dim hallway, then peer into a room they assume is A’s bedroom.

In the evening light, C can see a tangled pile of blankets with tissues strewn across the bed. They tentatively pad over, not wanting to wake A, but their caution is unwarranted—A's not there.

C's heart beats faster, every one of B's fears echoing through their mind. "A? You in here?"

From somewhere in the house, C hears a cough.

C darts from their room and freezes in the hall.

Another small cough, and a whimper.

Closer, then. C traces the sound to a room which they can only assume is the bathroom. It's dark in there, but C cautiously creeps in and fumbles in the darkness, trying to find a light. In the shuffle, their foot hits something soft the moment they find the light switch.

They flick on the light, and there, curled on the bathroom floor, is A.

A flinches at the light and throws a hand over their eyes with a yelp. Their other hand clutches a spilled bottle of medicine, sticky red syrup in a sickening red puddle on the white tile. There's a towel pulled half over A's trembling body like a makeshift blanket. More shocking, though, is how dreadful A looks. Face devoid of color, shaking all over with chills, hair plastered to their forehead with sweat. The room has faint sickly scent, and A’s body is contorted oddly, like they fell down that way and didn’t have the strength to move an inch.

And when A finally sees that it's C, they whisper one quiet plea.

Help me.

“A, what the hell—“ C drops to their knees and slips their cool hand over A’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

In response, A shudders and pulls the towel tighter. “F-f-freezing.”

Even in delirium, A had to contradict them. But there’s no time to dwell on that. C hauls them out of the pool of cough syrup and props them up against the tub, then makes a mental list of everything they need to do.

Clean clothes. Clean up the bathroom. Take their temperature. Medicine.

“Water,” A croaks, breaking C’s frantic thoughts as they slump back down to the floor. C sees their dry, cracked lips, and winces at the thought of how long it's been since A's had fluids.

“Hang on, bud. You’re okay.” C brushes a trembling hand through A’s hair, and their soft, soothing voice feels like the polar opposite of the adrenaline coursing through C’s body.

The next few minutes are a blur. C runs downstairs to grab a glass, then has to hold A's lolling head up so they can drink without choking. After A gulps down the whole glass, C fetches clean clothes from A's room, then tries to clean up the mess of cough syrup on both A and the floor before peeling the sweat-drenched clothes from A's shaking frame.

Once A's warmly dressed in clean flannel pants, a dry thermal shirt, and a cotton pullover, C hoists A up and carries them back to their room and to their bed. Easing them under the covers, they tuck their shivering frame under one, two, three blankets. It’s probably too many, but A’s teeth are audibly chattering and C has no idea how long they’d been curled up on the cold bathroom tile while suffering with chills.

“A, I need you to tell me how you feel.”

“Bad.”

“No, specifics. You’ve clearly got a fever, what else?”

“Head hurts. Throat hurts. Bones hurt. Cold.” A shudders and pulls the blankets tighter. “So cold. All cold.” They cough once, twice into their blankets, and it’s deep and rattling. C doesn’t have to ask if that hurts, too.

“What was the last thing you took?”

“Don’t….don’t know. Ran out….yesterday.”

“Wait…but the cough syrup…”

“Flu stuff’s gone. Cough syrup was…last resort."

C winces—no wonder A feels wretched.

"Well, you need proper medicine, pronto." C gets up to go find a thermometer and grab their bag of supplies they’d dropped downstairs, but they feel a clammy hand curl around their wrist.

“Stop leaving,” A rasps.

“A, I gotta go get—“

“You….are the first person I’ve seen…in 72 hours. Please do not go.” A’s desperation to cling to C, of all people, would be funny if their eyes weren’t glassy with unshed tears. The poor thing looks terrified.

C doesn't know what to do in this moment of unexpected vulnerability, so they shift to sit at A’s bedside. A’s trembling hand is still clinging to their wrist, their breath coming in short, shallow wheezes.

“What…happened?” The question is a stupid one that they’re not sure A can answer in this state, but it’s the only natural icebreaker C can think of after finding someone sprawled on the floor.

A shrugs. “Kinda….fuzzy. Medicine ran out last night”—they gesture weakly to an empty plastic bottle of flu medicine on the nighstand—“and then it hurt. All night.”

“This morning....bad. Got desperate." A half shrugs, and their thousand-yard stare cracks something in C. "Then jus’ remember….standing…walking…then the ground. Couldn’t move.” A’s voice cracks a little on the last word. “Then….you.”

In their head, C pieces together a timeline that has a feverish, terrified A lying on the floor for hours, and it makes their stomach do a little flip.

“Why….you?” A eyes C warily.

“Oh.” C scratches the back of their head awkwardly. “You didn’t pick up when B called in the morning. So they called me.”

“Shit. B.” A’s hand rakes over their face and flops down on the covers, and C instinctively wants to tuck it back under the blankets. “Was s’posed to call back…” A glances at their bare wrist for a watch that isn’t there, then squints at the wall clock. “Numbers…don’ work right.”

“That’d be your fever.”

“Forgot to…the numbers are all….mushy.”

“Ohhkay, A. Shhhh.” C palms their forehead again and winces at the heat. “I need to take your temp and get you medicine.”

“Don’t leave.”

“It’ll take 30 seconds. promise. Here.” C slides their watch off their wrist and puts it in A’s hand. “Count to 30.” They severely doubt A can, but they’re hoping the watch’s novelty is enough to distract their fever-addled mind.

C sprints back to the front door and grabs the bag, then jogs back to A’s room. A’s intently staring at the watch, like it’s an object of reverence, and jumps when C gently touches their arm.

"C'mon, you. Let's get you drugged up."

———————————

After establishing a 103-degree fever, ingesting a cocktail of OTC drugs, and downing both a glass of cold water and some hot tea, A's zonked out—in bed, this time, under C’s watchful eye, covered with a fourth blanket that a pitiful, shivering A had conned C into giving them.

C didn't really know what to do after that. They've done their job. They've checked in on A, and done what they could. For B, they tried to tell themselves. But they couldn't just leave A alone in this state. So they find a spot on the other side of A's bed on top of the covers, and just…wait.

And despite trying to distract themselves with a book from A's side table, they can't stop looking at A.

They're curled up on their right side facing C, blankets pulled up to their chin. C can see the dark shadows under their eyes, their ghost-pale pallor, the occasional shiver that ripples through them. Gone is the brash bravado and the easy charm that’s always grated at C’s simpler sensibilities.

They look so young.

In their sleep, A whimpers once, twice, and C immediately puts a hand on their forehead, shushing them. A blinks awake with a start, breathing heavily before their eyes catch on C.

"You're still here,” they rasp.

"I am." C smiles.

A heaves a sigh of relief. “Dreamed…I was alone again. But you’re here.” Their red-rimmed eyes are so wide and genuinely grateful that C can barely stand to look at them.

So they swallow the lump in their throat and force a smile again. “C’mon. In this state, you can't be trusted on your own."

A grins sleepily at that—then, lets their eyes fall closed and nestles closer to C.

“Glad you’re here.”

A drifts off again. C lets their head tilt back against the headboard, fingers lazily tracing through A’s hair.

B’s never gonna let me hear the end of this, C thinks with a wry smile.

[headspace-hotel]

Notes on Torturing The Character In The Science Facility

my takes on this trope rarely if ever have anything to do with the character being "special" or being studied for powers they innately have, if they are special its something that was done to them

it's about the medical trauma

it's about the violation and lack of bodily autonomy

the "living weapon" trope, but the key characteristic is catastrophic functionality

i love, love, love the concept of "catastrophic functionality" in a person: character that can tank ludicrous amounts of damage and just Keep Going in virtually all circumstances barring outright dismemberment. They can keep going, so do they "deserve" rest and/or pain relief?

after a lifetime of having their distress treated as whiny and unreasonable, they have what would be a dangerously high tolerance to pain and exhaustion.

another key function of the Science Facility is to fix the damage Character takes, maybe using enhanced healing technologies or 3D printed organs or something. this leads to Character's body being treated as relatively disposable cause "we can just fix them"

extreme version of this: Character can't die even if they wanted to

people who work with Character are informed that they're dangerous and arbitrarily violent, and their fear of Character makes it easier to justify restricting autonomy

It is TRUE, cause Character does not have tools to set boundaries or protect their body other than violence. vicious cycle of being perceived as dangerous and therefore denied autonomy, and being forced to use violence to defend autonomy

the restraints used to hold Character look like major overkill, which underscores how dangerous they are. LOVE this trope

character being desexualized to the point that their non-consent to touch, to being stripped down and examined, or to procedures is trivialized. There is no non-clinical context for their body, and the "clinical" framework eclipses any possibility for bodily violation to be understood as violent.

types of uncanniness: Character looks human but has some subtle inhuman traits or characteristics. (I'm obsessed with reflective eye shine, personally.) OR Character looks like they've been taken apart and put back together, like flesh pulled over a much more unforgiving and indestructible metal scaffold. OR Character gives off "undead" vibes; they're just not quite alive in a way that sets off air raid sirens in people's brains

Often, Character is dead and Came Back Wrong (varying levels of literalness)

anyways yeah. i never stopped writing this trope and probably never will. it's a good one

[panic-whump]

[dying-crying-pining]

yes please run that character into the ground. they need to be swaying and staggering by the climax of the book/movie/episode

BUT

they have to get to collapse after. they need to fold into a heap while their friends/team scramble to break their fall. deprive them of that rest until the very end but then they need to actually get it.

bonus points if they’re delirious/drifting/only half-aware the comfort is happening