#but i've come to really like the whole 'conditioned whumpee' thing

[kittyhazelnut]

started writing out a frostwidow fic idea to post here and now it's 1800 words on wattpad (of a plot summary in a "book" full of fic ideas like it's not a real fic yet) and the more I write of it the more fucked-up it looks and like I feel like if I wrote it for realsies it might not look so fucked up but writing it out like this makes it looks pretty fucked up and now I feel like I can't post the summary idea on wattpad which sucks because I love when people comment on them but also a lot of people on wattpad are, like, 12, and idk maybe I'm just projecting because I read a frostiron fic that's kinda similar before that was really fucked up with like torture and non-con elements (and I never did finish the fic bc I got too squeamish at that) but I feel like this isn't meant for 12-year-olds? even though objectively nothing's really happened? at which point it's like why am I even writing this out anymore if I'm not gonna post it? like I've written fics for myself before that I've never posted but this isn't even a fic it's just a fucked-up concept and ugh idk I think I'm gonna finish writing out what I can think of and maybe I'll come back and read it one day a year or two from now and I'll be glad I did

[teine-mallaichte]

I've been thinking about the idea of Whumper using euphoric drugs on Whumpee and leaving them as "present" for Caretaker again. And it occurred to me - drugs can be really unpredictable, what if Whumper made a slight miscalculation?

CW: non-con drugging, drugged Whumpee, stressed Whumper.

Whumper’s plan had seemed straightforward at first—an almost poetic gesture of chaos. Get Whumpee high, deliver them to the caretaker’s house as an unexpected gift, and then watch the ensuing confusion from a safe distance. But what had started as a meticulously calculated scheme was rapidly spiraling into disaster.

Initially, the plan was working as intended. Whumpee had staggered, their laughter a high-pitched, disjointed melody as they interacted with nonexistent objects. Whumper had been amused, almost smug, watching as Whumpee’s inebriated state added a layer of absurdity to the night. But as they neared the caretaker’s house, the drugs’ effects intensified far beyond what Whumper had anticipated.

Whumpee’s movements became increasingly erratic. Where they had once swayed and giggled with a semblance of coherence, they now moved with a wild, unpredictable energy. They clung to Whumper as if they were a lifeline, their grip both frantic and desperate. Whumper struggled to support their weight, each step feeling like a victory snatched from the jaws of disaster.

“Come on,” Whumper muttered through gritted teeth, their voice betraying a mix of irritation and concern. They were so close to the caretaker’s house, its warm lights a beacon of hope in the encroaching darkness. Yet the closer they got, the more Whumpee’s condition seemed to unravel. Their once-merry laughter was now a chaotic symphony of incoherent giggles and slurred phrases, their head lolling as they reached for imaginary objects in the night.

"Come on," Whumper muttered under their breath, trying to coax Whumpee towards the house. The words felt hollow, almost laughable, as they struggled to keep Whumpee upright. Every step was a battle, with Whumpee’s incoherent mumblings and sporadic outbursts of laughter providing an erratic rhythm to their progress.

Whumper sighed, "Whumpee," they forced their drugged companion to look at them, their unfocused glassy eyes and almost manic smile no longer amusing, "I need you to focus, we are almost there."

Whumpee’s response was a garbled mix of laughter and nonsensical words, their head lolling from side to side as if struggling to maintain even the simplest of coherent thoughts. Each attempt to move forward was met with a new challenge: Whumpee would stumble, laugh hysterically, or collapse onto the grass, clutching at it as though it were the only thing anchoring them to reality.

Whumper’s hands were trembling slightly as they gripped Whumpee’s shoulders, trying desperately to regain control of the situation. The weight of Whumpee was becoming increasingly unbearable, and Whumper’s anxiety was mounting with every misstep. They could just leave them there, they were so close to Caretakers front down. If Whumper went to ring the doorbell then Caretaker would almost certainly hear Whumpees laughs and giggles upon opening the door. It wasn't the original plan, but at this point the original plan seemed a distant dream.

Whumper took a deep breath, trying to steady their nerves as they realized the precariousness of their situation. Whumpee's condition was deteriorating rapidly, their laughter now more erratic and their movements increasingly chaotic. Every time Whumpee collapsed or veered off course, it felt like the whole plan was unraveling further.

"Come on, just a few more steps," Whumper said, their voice tight with strain. They tried to adjust their grip on Whumpee, who was now clinging to Whumper with a desperation that made every movement feel like a monumental effort. Whumper glanced at the caretaker's house, which was now only a few steps away.

The caretaker’s house was so close, yet each step forward was fraught with increasing difficulty. Whumper could already picture the scene: Whumpee sprawled on the driveway, laughter echoing into the night, drawing unwanted attention.

“Whumpee,” Whumper said sharply, forcing their drugged companion to focus. They held Whumpee’s shoulders, their eyes trying to pierce through the glassy, unfocused stare. “We’re almost there. Just a few more steps.”

Whumpee's head lolled to the side, their giggles turning into soft, incoherent mutterings. "I see… butterflies…" Whumpee said, their eyes wide and unfocused as they reached out to grab at imaginary insects, causing Whumper to stumble at the sudden change in centre of mass.

"Screw it," Whumper thought letting go of Whumpee and allowing them to crash down onto Caretakers driveway. They gritted their teeth, trying to steady their nerves. The plan had been to leave Whumpee in a state of chaotic but manageable disarray. Now, with Whumpee sprawled out on the driveway, the situation was anything but subtle.

The caretaker’s house was eerily silent. The soft glow of the interior lights cast long, stretching shadows across the driveway. Whumper knew they had to act quickly. If they rang the doorbell, the caretaker would almost certainly hear Whumpee’s laughter and incoherent mumblings.

Taking a deep breath, Whumper forced themselves to calm down. They approached the front door, each step feeling like a mile. They glanced back at Whumpee, who was now rolling around on the driveway, their giggles melding with their incoherent mutterings about butterflies and parties in the sky.

Whumper’s hand hovered over the doorbell, their heart pounding. They pressed it, the chime echoing into the night, and then turned on their heel and sprinted away from the scene, leaving the chaotic aftermath behind.

[feverflushed]

i would like to know more about the mobility aid whump !

Alright!

Disclaimer: Please notice that I'm going to talk only from personal experience, so what I'm saying might not apply to everyone!

(For context! My condition is characterised by extremely frequent and painful dislocations, so my aids aim mostly to avoid that or to give me the time and stability needed to recover from bad dislocations! Aside from wearing braces daily, and from these acute episode recovery times, I live a very active life, so the issues I've encountered are radically different from someone with a SCI, for example.)

Now, let's get straight into the whump (on top of the whump your poor fave is already experiencing):

-Braces: Fantastic, fantastic invention. They make everything easier, but can be awful if they're not used carefully. Personally, I wear AFOS, (they basically keep your ankles in place and prevent things like foot drop, therefore reducing the likelyhood of tripping on your own feet). Now, here's the issue. Shorts are a terrible idea. When it's really hot and you want to wear shorts and you're planning to go for a walk, the only way to prevent chafing your shins to the point of bleeding is wearing knee high socks. 🥲

Same thing goes for all rigid braces that come in contact directly with the skin, like knee braces and rigid corsets.

And while braces can help a lot with stability, if used improperly they can lead to issues like atrophy.

Also, not whump, but honorable mention for finger splints. The metal ones are sooo comfy and make your character look extra badass. Just saying.

-Canes/crutches: Blisters, blisters, blisters. Blisters and tendinitis to no end. When canes are used only for balance, it's not a huge issue, but if you have to put pressure on them (this applies more to crutches than canes tbh), you tend to get blisters all over your hands and tendinitis in your wrists. Especially with crappy hospital crutches. That's why most long term users tend to have their own customized aids. It's a game changer, honestly.

Also consider. A character who faints often using canes to give themselves enough stability to safely get to the ground instead of faceplanting.

Last thing: perpetually cold fingers during the winter.

-Wheelchairs: This only applies to manual wheelchairs. I know nothing about electric ones.

Hospital wheelchairs, once again, are terrible. They will most definitely give you terrible sores on your palms from propelling yourself. The pushrims BURN your skin if you only think of doing sudden movements. They're heavy, bulky, get stuck everywhere, and there's an extra chance of ruining your furniture. 😮‍💨

Active/custom wheelchairs, on the other hand are a whole other universe. They're tailored to the user's needs, they are ultra light and compact, and super easy to maneuver, and you can actually do wheelies in them to roll over obstacles or difficult terrains (unlike hospital chairs). However, this makes them less stable and a higher fall risk.

Not to mention the perpetually frozen fingers during the winter months (hello frostbite!).

Due to inactivity, a whumpee in a wheelchair is more likely to feel cold, and to develope atrophy and muscular issues. Not to mention, wearing and tearing of arm/shoulder joints and contracture of the shoulders and back from the constant self propelling.

Not to mention, pressure sores! That's pure hell to put your whumpee through, and potentially dangerous!

[whumpshaped]

Catboy caretaker, pet whumpee !!!! I've never seen a catboy caretaker

hear me out for a sec... catboy caretaker who despises being treated as a pet... w pet whumpee who Needs to be treated as a pet otherwise they get overwhelmed and confused......

trigger warnings: conditioning, past trauma, dehumanization, past captivity, nonhuman caretaker, caretaker and whumpee unintentionally hurting each other

~

"You don't need to keep eating out of that stupid bowl," Caretaker said with a little more force than he intended, and he quickly tried to compose himself. "You... you're not an animal, Whumpee. You don't have to keep degrading yourself."

"B-But..." Whumpee swallowed, looking down at the doggy bowl on the kitchen tiles. "I... I've eaten out of a bowl like that my whole life... I don't... I don't know how to..." Their face flushed with embarrassment, and they curled up, hiding from the curious stare of their saviour. "I don't know how to use any utensils," they choked out after a pause, immediately followed by quiet sobbing.

Caretaker sighed, trying not to let his own past experiences influence what he was about to say. "Well, uh... Fine, I guess? But I'll definitely teach you later, so you at least have the option to switch if you want to, okay?"

~

Whumpee was playing with the bell on their collar, an involuntary self-soothing habit they picked up back at Whumper's place. They didn't even realize Caretaker was coming up behind them, and they nearly screamed when they felt a hand on their shoulder.

Caretaker spun them around by their shoulders, ripping the bell off the collar and throwing it right out the window. "I don't want to hear that thing ever again," he growled, shaking with the effort to keep himself from hitting anything.

Whumpee just stared at him, wide-eyed and afraid, before they finally nodded. They had no idea how many times Caretaker had been humiliated with a bell like that. They only knew how scary he was at that moment.

~

"Do you want to sleep in the bed tonight?" Caretaker asked cautiously, and Whumpee finally seemed to think it over.

"I mean... uh..." They took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. "Do you... do you really think it's okay?"

"I would love it if you did, Whumpee."

Whumpee's eyes lit up at the reassurance and they nodded, following Caretaker into his room and climbing under the blankets next to him. They chuckled at the way their new roommate curled up, like a real kitty cat.

"It feels just like a huge pet bed with you!" they exclaimed suddenly, too preoccupied with their anxiety being gone to realize what the hell they'd just said. Well, until they saw Caretaker's horrified and disgusted expression. "I- I didn't mean it like that-"

"I changed my mind. Get out."

"No, wait, I'm sorry-"

"I worked too damn hard not to be a pet just to share a bed with one. This is not a fucking pet bed. Get the fuck out."