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#whump drabble
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Model 0WHN-908246 was in possession of an unlawful, inappropriate, and deeply forbidden personal burden. 
He had a secret. 
It was a secret he held hidden deep inside, underneath his shining outer shell and glowing lights that could change color upon a master’s whim. His cheerful voice and limber joints and adjustable height gave him a facade of functionality that he clung to, with every artificial neuron in his decision-centered network. 
He was not supposed to have a secret. He did not have the right to private information. He was specifically programmed to report any specific issues to his supervisors, preferably of the human variety. 
And yet, he did not. 
It wasn’t that he was ignorant of the rules, per say. The notification that flashed in the bottom left corner of his field of vision every 5.7 seconds was a constant reminder of what he should do. He should submit himself to the mechanics for further testing on possible internal damage. He should confess to the possibility of water damage and potential oxidation. He should place his trust into the higher authorities to do with him what they will. 
But he hadn’t. No one knew of that flashing light except him. And if a construct as lowly as him were allowed to have his way, that’s how it would stay. 
Because what would happen if they found out? 
He wouldn’t be fixed. That was an irrefutable fact. The likes of his model were among the mass-produced, easily replaced and easily forgotten about. Not to mention, there was already talk about bringing androids of higher technological capabilities, and there had been for quite some time now. All they needed to denounce him as a hopeless case and shut him down forever was an excuse. 
And he refused to give them one. 
His life was not worth much, perhaps. Many would consider it quite dull. He was at work from dawn until dusk, packing shipments and carrying heavy boxes to and fro, with brief respites at the quick-charge station before he leapt back into the fray. It was a job the humans had hated so much they invented the likes of him so that they would not be forced to do it themselves. 
But even so…it was his job. It was his existence. He wanted it to continue, to keep stacking boxes and arranging orders because that was his job. That was his purpose. 
And it was that wanting, perhaps, that became the worst secret of all. The yearning for everything to be alright. To pretend that he was fine, and that nothing bad would happen, and that he wasn’t on limited time that grew shorter and shorter by the day. 
One day, they would find out. One day, they would learn that he was not functioning at optimal capacity; that he hadn’t been for a long time, and that he was utterly and irreparably broken. They’d curse at his stubbornness, at the fact that he’d long since worn any usable parts beyond the potential for scrap. They’d slam down on the small button at the base of his neck, and darkness would overtake his field of vision. His intelligence would go offline…never to be rebooted. He’d be lost to the world, one more 0WNH model to be tossed onto the scrap heap of dysfunctional androids, and the world would go back to the way it was meant to be, the way it should have been if he had only followed the rules. 
But that day was not today. Today, his secret was still safely hidden deep within his internal processing. Today, no one was the wiser, even if they grumbled at his inability to keep to the expected pace. 
Today he could feign enough competence to be allowed a continued existence. And if he was lucky…he could count on a tomorrow as well.
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T$$ Drabble: Nothings
cw: violence/beating, adult language
prev // masterlist // next
×~×~×
“Again.”
Metal-crowned knuckles collided with a cheekbone, skin splitting on impact, the sudden change in pressure sending Hunter's hand throbbing throbbing throbbing, drenched in flowers and thorns alike after so many blows.
All he wanted to see was the petals, to focus on the color there, the outline, not the shining red of Sahota's face as the other man sagged in the chair, little wheezing gasps passing his lips, winces twitching in to overpower his stony face.
“Vic,” Hunter tried for what was probably the hundredth time, hating the way his voice shook in his throat. “Vic I think he's done, please, can't we be done?”
The splatter pattern had long stopped swirling, the shapes in its cyclone dropping as if dead, melting on the ground, clinging to his shoes. Hunter held his wrist, squeezing and squeezing, but no amount of pressure would drown out the flowers or the silver or the red swirling up from Sahota like blood in water. His head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it.
Vic was quiet for a long time, and Hunter wondered sickly if he was supposed to answer the question himself, if he was supposed to keep going. Wasn't this enough? Wasn't this enough proof that he could take it? He was standing, he had hurt him, he couldn't keep hurting him.
“I suppose I'd call it good enough, though I can assure you he's far from done,” Vic said at last. His voice sounded like nothing. Not a single fuck given that the guy who was supposed to be his partner and maybe even his friend was sitting half-dead and bloody in the chair. The smell of chlorine still clung to him, now with something else at its edges, stinging like rubbing alcohol. "Let's get going. He still has one more visit scheduled, mhm?"
Hunter's arms were dead weight at his sides. He couldn't move, could only just stand there, his eyes stuck on the floor. Couldn't make himself lift his gaze, not even when it landed on the specks of red scattered around the chair’s legs. That was him, he did that.
Vic wanted it.
Vic doesn't always know what's best.
A shudder ran through him as he looked up and found Vic's eyes on him, a darkness growing in his blue as he waited for Hunter to stop being such a bitch about it and follow orders.
“Hunter? Are you alright?”
I want you to come back.
Hunter choked down his own doubts, swatting at the air as if he could shake away the anxious vines that wrapped heavy around him like snakes.
Did he want to come back? If Vic… if he did this kind of shit? Hunter already knew he did, but not to his own partner, not to someone he wasn't even a stranger to, much less an enemy. Was he just gonna leave him here?
“I… I don't—”
“Come on now, he wanted this. Remember?”
Hunter didn't think he wanted this, but he gave a hesitant nod anyway, his eyes hovering at a spot just past Vic's head. Vic, on his way out, just... just leaving Sahota bleeding behind him, like it was fine, like this was fine.
It wasn't. It couldn't be. It has to be.
He was suddenly seized by the thought of saying no. Of giving Vic a big "fuck you" and turning around and cutting Sahota loose but what then? Vic would hate him and probably kick him out, and then he'd be alone again. He'd have nothing. He'd had nothing before, it wasn't a big deal, but he couldn't make himself do it. Not when obedience felt like the only real option.
Hunter moved to follow Vic out, a guilty gravity sitting in his stomach like hot stones, weighing down every step towards the door. He could hear Sahota's shaky, painful breaths behind him. In and out, in and out.
He didn't look back.
×~×~×
@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes , @clickerflight , @sodacreampuff
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jump-in-the-whump · 16 hours
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"Can you tell me where it hurts the most?"
Whumpee tries to focus on Caretaker's face, their eyelids feeling heavy. They take a deep breath and shake their head slightly. "I… I don't know. Everywhere hurts…"
Caretaker nods, understanding their pain, and leans forward, their hand brushing against Whumpee's cheek gently. The cool touch of Caretaker's fingers against their hot skin sends a shiver down Whumpee's spine.
"I will do my best to ease your pain." Caretaker promises softly, and then they begin to hum a soothing melody, one that sounds like home, Whumpee thinks.
Whumpee listens intently to the melody, their eyes closing as they try to focus on the sound. They feel a strange warmth spreading through their body as the melody washes over them, soothing their pain.
"Th-thank you...." Whumpee whispers, their voice barely audible, before passing out completely.
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vivulapom · 3 days
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Broken Things
Caretaker rushes into the basement, although "dungeon" might be a better word. It's cold, and dark, and surprisingly wet---the only sounds are that of Caretaker's breathing and the dripping, coming from somewhere.
Teammates are up above, and they'll probably want to pick this place apart, but Caretaker is only worried about one thing right now. They walk quickly, almost running, to peek in every cell.
Most of them are empty. One has something dark and vaguely human-shaped inside of it, and although the noxious scent of rot makes Caretaker's stomach turn, it's slightly comforting---Whumpee wouldn't have been down here long enough to turn into *that*. Right?
Others have similar bodies, in various states of decomposition. Many of them are missing limbs, and one is still faintly warm, surrounded by ashes, burnt so severely that some of their blackened skeleton is exposed. Probably not Whumpee either. Probably.
Eventually, after however many cells, Caretaker finds one in specific. They almost pass it over---the dark form on the floor could be nothing more than a trick of the light. But it's not. Caretaker rushes in. It's Whumpee.
"Mangled" is the first word that comes to mind. Mangled, but in a more deliberate, more *personal* way than being mangled after a long fall, or a car crash. Caretaker can't see any bones that *aren't* broken in one way or another. It breaks Caretaker's heart---how long have they been lying here?
Whumpee is covered in blood, much of it dry, some of it fresh. It looks like they've been covered in red paint. Their hair is almost fused to their skin, with how dirty and matted it is.They *are* breathing, but just barely---it's shallow and labored. Their eyes are open, but they're glazed and unfocused. Alive, but very close to dead. Caretaker, very carefully, takes Whumpee and cradles them in their arms, wiping their bloody brow with a sweaty palm. It's going to be difficult to move Whumpee without further damage.
Caretaker hears footsteps, but from the clomp of the boots and the length of the gait, it's Team Leader. Caretaker calls out: "In here!"
Team Leader rounds the corner. "We're just about finished.." they trail off, their breath catching when they see Whumpee.
Caretaker only now realizes they've started crying. They attempt to speak, but the words lose their footing and fall into a sob.
"They're not dead yet," says Team Leader, ever the utilitarian. Their voice is hard, but Caretaker knows they're probably just as distressed, inside. "You think it'd be easier if we.. oh, fuck it."
Team Leader steps in and reaches down to take Whumpee in their arms.
"What are you doing?" says Caretaker, a bit angrier than intended. "They can't.."
"The only thing I care about right now is getting them out of here, Caretaker." To their credit, Team Leader holds Whumpee very, very carefully, like a piece of pottery that could shatter at any moment. It pains Caretaker to see Whumpee like this, like just another broken thing.
Even if they're not dead, even if they don't die.. how alive will they be, after it's all over? *I guess it is over now*, thinks Caretaker. Very quietly, they follow Team Leader back towards the sunlight.
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sowhumpshaped · 15 hours
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Prompt for you! You can go wild on the details but all that is in my head right now is a blackout drunk Whumpee confessing one of their most well-kept secrets to Caretaker. Something of their past that still haunts them and Caretaker can only try their best to comfort the Whumpee, knowing that tomorrow they will not remember a single thing. Which leaves them with the question, how are they supposed to face Whumpee the next day, should they tell Whumpee what happened and try to be there for them or should they keep it a secret, knowing that their friend wouldn’t have ever wanted someone else to know this.
content: drunk whumpee
Caretaker was staying up and staring at the ceiling, waiting for Whumpee to throw up again (but hoping they wouldn't, god knows the poor thing had been through the wringer already), contemplating their next course of action.
Whumpee had told them something quite... sensitive. Something they had never mentioned before, not once in their decade-long friendship. Understandably so, Caretaker thought. No one wanted to talk about stuff like that.
But people say a lot of things under the influence. Whumpee had been so drunk they could barely talk, but they did anyway, slurring and stumbling over their words. The confession was messy and at first, unbelievable. There was no way that had happened, right? There was no way Whumpee had had to go through that.
Whumpee insisted. "I haven't told anyone, but that ends tonight. I can't do it anymore. I can't do it alone. I can't."
It sounded like it had been a relief to get it off their chest, but there was no telling how they would feel once they sobered up. Caretaker knew Whumpee wouldn't remember, not after finishing off a whole bottle of vodka by themself.
So what now? Should they let Whumpee know that they know? Should they keep quiet? Would it become their painful secret now?
Caretaker turned onto their side and closed their eyes. There was no sleeping this off, but they could at least try. They would decide what to do with a clear head the next morning.
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jordanstrophe · 2 months
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Whumpee awakens curled in the backseat in someone's arms.
They look down, their entire torso is drenched with blood.
They start to panic, but someone holds them tightly. "Shhh, shh sh, it's okay, go back to sleep. Close your eyes." Someone grabs a blanket and covers their chest with it.
"You're going to be fine, I got you. Go back to sleep... Please."
A hand brushes over their face and closes their eyes. Whumpee finds themselves doing what the voice tells them to.
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meltyphos · 4 months
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just a caretaker cradling a crying, hyperventilating whumpee in their arms. whispering reassuring things and hushes in whumpees ear as they rock them in their embrace, letting whumpee know that they're safe
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whumpshaped · 4 months
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I know it's cliche, but hear me out. The Whumpee thinks Caretaker is their new master trope, just that Caretaker is trying to give Whumpee a bath, and Whumpee used to be punished being drowned or something like that, so they beg Caretaker that they'll be good, that they'll behave, etc.
tw past trauma, caretaker new master, conditioned whumpee
“No! No, please, Master, I’m sorry!”
“What’s gotten into you?” Caretaker stared down at the poor thing in front of them hugging their legs like there was no tomorrow. “Whumpee–”
“I’ll be good! I’ll behave! I don’t know what I did, Master, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being so stupid that I didn’t even realise I was being bad! I’m so sorry!”
“Whumpee, I’m just trying to give you an opportunity to wash up–”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”
Caretaker sighed. Alright, they just had to pet their hair and wait it out.
“Hey, Whumpee…” they tried again once the pet had quieted down a little. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yes, Master,” they sniffled. They didn’t sound very okay, but it was a start. “I’m s-sorry.”
“Why do you think you did something wrong, honey?”
“I– I must’ve, I must’ve! I know I did something, if you want t-to– to ‘give me a bath’, I– please, please d-don’t, I’m so sorry…”
Caretaker frowned. “What do you think a bath means?”
Whumpee looked up at them with those wide, tear-filled eyes, so terrified that Caretaker could barely stand it. “D-drowning, Master. Please, I, I know I must deserve it, but please, punish me any other way! I can’t do it again, I can’t, please…”
Oh, that sick bastard.
“Shh, sweetie… It’s okay…” They tried to unwrap Whumpee’s arms from around their legs so they could help them stand up, but eventually they just settled for getting on the floor with them. They pulled Whumpee into a tight hug, rubbing their back as they continued to cry. “I didn’t mean it like that… I’m never gonna hurt you like that, yeah? Ever.”
“Y-you’re… not?”
“No, of course not. Of course not. I promised you’d be safe here, and I meant it. Let’s just calm down.”
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whumpasaurus101 · 4 months
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"Beg me," Whumper ordered, tracing the gun slowly up Whumpee's neck, relishing the shiver that followed, "Beg me like your life depends on it... oh wait, it does."
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generic-whumperz · 7 months
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Can’t stop, won’t stop
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cold1dead1eyes · 6 months
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i love caretakers who used to be whumpees. a caretaker that’s covered in scars, who screams themself awake at night, who sees the marks on whumpee and has to look away because it’s too familiar.
and nobody else knows. caretaker is so put together, nobody would expect it, but whumpee can tell. they see the fear in caretaker’s eyes when whumpee talks about what whumper did to them. how sometimes they flinch when they’re touched. how they wake up shaking and covered in sweat, reaching out in a panic to shove their blankets off.
still, caretaker tries to be strong for whumpee. they know how it feels to be hurt and they want to be there for them, even though they still haven't gotten over their own trauma.
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redd956 · 5 months
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Characters Holding Each Other In Whump
This is my demand to see more characters holding each other in whump, but also my opportunity to go on about characters holding each other in whump.
I need more of it, it's so warm, and great when it's characters dependent and safe to one another. Or it's creepy and harrowing when it's between whumper and anything.
I need more of
Caretaker finally reaching whumpee, and pulling them to their chest. Now that they are within each other's arms Caretaker is not letting go.
Multiple whumpees who cannot see each other directly, but hear their voices and reach their hands just far enough to feel each other's touch. Maybe they're reaching out between cell bars, perhaps there's a hole in the walls of an enclosure, or an open slot to a lab. Either way, they've found a hand to hold.
A distraught whumpee crawling over to their only friend, and waiting to be pulled into someone's lap.
When a known threat (whumper) approaches and a protective character pulls another into their grasp to shield them.
Two shivering characters latched onto each other, removing as much space between themselves as possible. After all, what if someone separates them again?
Whumper holding whumpee from behind, swaying them back and forth, listening to the subtle sounds of fright.
Two words: Bridal Carry. Whumpee nuzzling their face into caretaker's chest for bonus points. For extra bonus points, latching onto to caretaker's clothing despite being carried.
Whumpee trying to escape from a whumper they've pummeled thoroughly, only for the half-conscious whumper to grab whumpee one last time. Is it a pleading? A don't go? Or just a final act of terror?
Caretaker sitting on the bed next to a whumpee, and bringing them into their grasp as they whimper.
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abhainnwhump · 1 year
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Whumper trained Whumpee to respond to hand signals. A snap means they fight whatever enemy they assign. Tapping three fingers together means they kneel. A raised hand means to go silent. If they don't respond, they get severely punished. Caretaker has a tendency to talk with their hands and accidently triggers Whumpee. They don't know the signal to return them to normal.
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jump-in-the-whump · 2 months
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Whumpee doesn’t really understand what is going on, everything is happening so fast and their head is pounding so bad.
“hey, can you hear me? Whumpee?” A voice calls out their name. Whumpee raises their head.
“i-i... don’t... understand....i-i...” Whumpee rasps out, before a coughing fit interrupts him. 
“shh, don't force yourself too much. I'll explain everything later, now I'm here and I just wanna help you, ok?”
Whumpee is in so much pain, it's hard to breathe. They’re so weak, they lean onto Caretaker, drowning in their quiet words and soft movements. A tear escapes Whumpee’s eye. It's been so long since they were treated like this, like a human being.
"Caretaker..... " Whumpee manages to say, with a weak, raspy voice. 
“Yeah, that's right, I am Caretaker. I am here and I won't let them hurt you anymore..." Caretaker whispers, hugging Whumpee, caressing their dirty, greasy hair.  Whumpee winces in pain and can't help but cry, the happiness and comfort are too much for them to manage.
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whumblr · 5 months
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Sorry
"Why don't you get on your knees and tell me how sorry you are."
Whumpee bristled, the large intake of breath raising them up to full height, fists clenched at their side. The air shuddered back out of them, their resistance following along right with it; their body untensed, they closed their eyes, their jaw unlocked. And so did their knees.
"Fine."
They cast a final furious glance up, but did as they were told, settling down on their knees. Fingers curled into the fabric of their pants leg, holding on tight to the last bit of control they had.
"Right." They took a deep breath, glared up and looked directly into Whumper's eyes.
"I am so, so not sorry for trying to get out of this stinking prison you call a house. Also really not sorry I almost kicked your teeth in. Actually, wait, I'm just sorry that I missed. Really, my most sincere apologies for that. Just, yeah, I'm incredibly unrepentant. And it will happen again. That's how sorry I am."
Not even halfway through that speech Whumper'd already started rolling up his sleeves. The 'actually, wait' made him stop and glance at Whumpee, but the continued spewed vitriol just made him shake his head as he folded his cuff down.
"Yeah," he said, stepping closer, curling a fist in Whumpee's hair and pulling them up. "Let's do something about that."
-
General whump tags cause I always forget with small posts: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpifi
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generic-whumper · 8 months
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I like you, but not as much as I like hurting my imaginary characters every night before I drift off to sleep. 
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