For when the whump ideas in my head need to LEAVE

Found family, living weapon, religious whump, royalty whump, pet whump (caretaker new master my love), hero whump, medical whump, whether the whump has been going on for years of 20 minutes, really, anything!

Submitted by Anon - thanks!

A prideful whumpee who never accepts help or admits to struggling and a caretaker who has to be sneaky about it:

Oh they just happened to make extra food if whumpee wants any.

Oh the caretaker gets so nervous at the doctors and can whumpee come with them to the med bay, and while they're there the whumpee might as well get that wound checked out.

No no really they just happened to be in the area and wanted to hang out, if whumpee's too sick to go anywhere, they’ll just have to hang out here, and while caretaker is here they figure they might as well help tidy up the place.

you know how you said that @painwithoutplot ? what if i had a hidden snippet of something i never posted because i didn't know how to end it and just posted it Like That bc of that tag. what then.

cw: living weapon, shock collar, training, 😇, dehumanisation, it pronouns

It’s stupid of him. It.

They keep trying to teach it and none of it sticks into its head, so it already knows how stupid it is – but this is worse.

There’s no reason for it. The handler reaches for his – it, because it has been accepted as a weapon and it should be grateful – collar and it both flinches and pushes the man back with a press of his thought.

being brought to the side and know as a competent leader so. they're trusted with a similar position - not leader-leader but maybe a squad or a supporting role for the leader? and it's Wow. People assuming they're doing it on purpose. Being a terrible tyrant or a leader bc they hate their new teammates. "I don't understand how you could get such results if that's how you treated your men" vs "we didn't have a choice."

I wrote this for my treasured moot @suffering-and-misery, off of this prompt. It got long oopsies

Contains: past captive whumpee, rescue, medical whump, medic caretaker, caretaker new whumper, alllusions to past torture, begging, comfort

Whumpee laid curled up on the floor, trying to stay as still as possible as they watched the group of strangers who’d broken down the door to their cell one night and brought them up from the basement of whumper’s lonely cabin. It’d been loud and terrifying; the strangers had had bright lights and big guns, and they’d been shouting whumper’s name, loudly. One of the strangers, with a deep voice and a solid air, had lowered their rifle and asked them where Whumper was.

“Where’s the bastard gone?” they’d said.

Whumpee could only sob in response. It’d been days since Whumper had descended into their cell to “play.” At first, whumpee hadn’t minded. The last session had been brutal. Even now, Whumpee could still feel their ribs aching with every breath, the heat of the infected whip slashes on their back, and the pulsing radiating from the leg that whumper had broken. But then, the food stopped coming, the cell got colder and colder, and they knew they’d been left to die.

Before they were able to get any of this past the dense, scratchy lump clogging their throat, another one of the strangers had stepped forward. Whumpee still remembered the words they’d uttered, voice calm but firm.

“They’re one of the victims, Leader.”

For some reason, that had pushed them over the edge, and tears had come cascading down almost instantly, eyes puffy and bloodshot and mouth whispering with every shaky gasp. Time stopped, and when it came back, the stranger with the calm-but-firm voice was on the ground in front of them.

Their words had been soft. “I'm Caretaker; I’m gonna help you, aight?”

“Who’re you?” Whumpee had mumbled, trying to inch away from Caretaker and their weapon laden gear. They had no patches, no flags, no nothing.

Caretaker had paused. “Whumper betrayed us. We’re trying to fix the mess it left, that’s all.”

The stranger—Caretaker—had done a lot of things after that. They’d run their hands up and down Whumpee’s whole body, blue, plasticky gloves sliding over their back and front before patting down their legs. Whumpee had managed to stay still, even though the touch had made them so nauseous that they’d been able to taste acid at the back of their mouth.

That’d only been the start of it. Caretaker’s hands kept moving. They’d poked a needle into Whumpee’s arm, which had made their mouth taste like saline. They’d covered Whumpee’s barely clothed body with a shiny, filmy blanket. Caretaker’s voice had followed them throughout all of it, probably narrating, though their brain had reduced it to a gentle mush.

Caretaker had asked a lot of questions, too, about where they hurt and how they hurt, if breathing was hard, if they had any allergies, if they could follow Caretaker’s bright blue finger with their eyes, and their name and age and if they had any conditions that they’d been diagnosed with. They told Whumpee that they were going to give them “something to help,” antibiotics and analgesics, orwhatever the word had been.

“There ya go,” they’d hummed. “Let’s get those wounds dressed.” And then their hands returned. Whumpee had been frozen. Dressed? They weren’t allowed clothes. Whumper had wanted to see them.

There were no clothes, though. Instead, Caretaker had pressed something soft and white against their bloodied, bruised and battered back. Bandages. What had whumpee done to deserve bandages.

“Thank you, sir,” they’d muttered, pit already forming in their stomach at what they’d have to do to repay them for it.

But Caretaker had just chuckled and shaken their head. “Don’t thank me yet, I still need to splint your leg and move you upstairs.”

Whumpee had clammed up instantly. Caretaker was going to put them in more debt first, to make sure they could do whatever they wanted. Of course they were. Still, they’d laid perfectly still as Caretaker manipulated their leg, bracing it against some orange board that was somehow both stiff and flexible.

Caretaker had mumbled something else, shouted to some of the strangers, and then Whumpeewas being rolled onto a…a “litter,” Caretaker had called it. It had hurt, a lot, actually, the movements sending waves of pain splintering through their chest and legs and everything, but the hands hadn’t been hurting them. They hadn’t pushed or pulled, groped or grabbed, or anything. Just steady, braced against whumpee’s hips and shoulders.

When they’d been lifted up the stairs (What were they going to have to pay for Caretaker having to move them?), each step had jarred their injuries, and the light had been so bright that it’d sent an ache up into their forehead. Through the cabin’s big windows, you could see a seemingly endless line of mountain tops, capped with pine forests and covered in white snow that was falling heavily, swirling around in the air.

How long had it’d been since they’d seen the outside?

The litter didn’t go outside, though. Instead, they’d been set down in front of the dark metal woodstove, its heat emanating into the cold cabin. Someone had laid a blanket over them, a real one, one of the soft, thick fabric ones from Whumper’s couch.Tears welled in their eyes. They were good. They were ready to pay now, even if they didn’t think they could take it. But Caretaker had only patted their shoulder before standing up.

“I’ll be back, okay? Tell us if anything feels wrong or starts to hurt. Even if you’re unsure,” they’d said, before walking away.

And so now whumpee was here, lying on a litter on the floor of what had been whumper’s cabin, but wasn’t really anymore, next to a warm fire under a soft blanket, bandages wrapped around their wounds, watching Caretaker and the rest of strangers whisper in hushed tones.

Their mouth tasted bitter and dry. They could tell they hadn’t been a planned find. Caretaker had said that Whumper had betrayed them. They’d been looking for whumper, to get revenge for whatever it was that Whumper had done. That anger had to go somewhere, and Whumpee was here, using all their resources and contributing nothing.

After a few more minutes of talking, Caretaker walked back over. They crouched down beside the stretcher, face tight. “Hey, you with me?’

Whumpee’s eyes flittered up to them before they had the chance to pat whumpee’s shoulder. Should they say something? Whumper had liked their toys quiet, though.

“We’re gonna be stuck here for a bit while we wait for the storm to clear,” Caretaker explained, voice still far too calm. “I’m gonna take care of you for now, aight? Getcha warmed up, rehydrated, make sure you’re not in too much pain. Actually, you’re due for a second dose now.” They looked towards Whumpee, like they were expecting a response.

Whumpee sniffled, words getting stuck in their throat again. Why did Caretaker keep doing more? They already had given Whumpee bandages, and the blanket, and everything else. They didn’t need more. They couldn’t pay for more, not all at once.

“Please,” they stammered, words falling out of their mouth before they could stop. “Please don’t, I can’t, just do it now.”

Caretaker looked confused. Worried and confused, and maybe even angry. “Do what, whumpee?”

“P-pay for it,” Whumpee sobbed chest heaving as the tears began to pour down their cheeks. “If-if you do more, I can’t pay for it. ‘m sorry, please.”

The words made them nauseous to say. They needed to show that they could be good, that they were worth the time and effort it would take to manage a pathetic thing like them, that was begging to not be used.

They tore off the blanket, pulling the warm softness off their skin as fast as they could. Whumper had needed to see them. Caretaker needed to see them, to see that they could still be a good toy.

“You…you c’n do whatever you want,” they gasped as the tears fell hard. Caretaker had been so kind, too kind, with them. Maybe the hurt wouldn’t be as bad, even though they’d been given so many luxuries. “I promise I’m good, I promise. I just-I just can’t pay, for anymore, if you do anymore, please-”

“Whumpee,” Caretaker cut them off, warmth seeping through the nitrile covered hand placed on their shoulder. “Whumpee hey, take some deep breaths for me. In and out, nice and slow.”

Whumpee complied. It was easy. Caretaker ordered and Whumpee listened.

"No one's ‘paying’ for anything here, Whumpee.” They shifted forward, reaching for the blanket that Whumpee had kicked off. “You need help, yeah? And that’s my job right now, it's to help you.” Slowly, they started to pull the blanket back over Whumpee’s weak, shivering body. “You need the blanket, okay? It’s important that we keep you warm right now, yeah?”

Whumpee nodded quickly. Caretaker could do what they wanted, however weird that want was. “‘m sorry,” they mumbled.

“It’s okay, no worries,” Caretaker hummed. Their tone was still gentle. Unbelievably gentle. “Now we know.” They finished adjusting the blanket, and Whumpee started sobbing again, for an entirely different reason.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, whumpee. You’re safe now. You can rest.”