#generic characters

A little treat! I wrote this for an assignment in my creative writing class and it got kinda whumpy :3

They've got names but they're not established characters or anything! So there's no missed context haha we're just in media res.

Content warnings: cyborg whump, medical whump mention, bad caretaking, heart disease mention

Word count: 685

~~~

The entire point of a synthetic heart was to eliminate these sorts of risks. 

Chk-chk-chk-shhhh. Gears stuttered around the hydraulic line that kept it beating, and a spark drilled through his t-shirt. 

“Jamie?” 

“I’m fine,” he huffed. “The usual catch.”

“Like hell! You’re smoking!”

He peeked down. Dirty tendrils curled out of his chest cavity, filtering out through the newly established chimney. The curdling stench of melted rubber trailed with it.

“And why should that matter, Cal? My heart’s already wading in tar.” But Jamie grabbed them by the wrist and stormed into the bathroom.

Chk-chk-shhhhhh. Bag and jacket slammed down onto cracked tiles. His shirt caught on mechanical components.

“Your lungs are still flesh,” Cal said. The bastard leaned their happy ass against the door, content to watch him flail: a feral beast mauling what may have once been associated with a sheep.

“Lungs can’t have arrhythmia.” His voice fluxed and pitched into a squeaky approximation of his doctor’s from within his fabric prison. 

“Whitten’s a moron.”

“The only moron who’s agreed to fix me,” Jamie grunted, the shredded remains of his shirt finally fluttering to the ground. “Would it have killed you to help?”

“It would kill you if he hears this and decides to weigh in on his patient’s dysfunctional state. We don’t need you relying on his shoddy craftsmanship to rip away any more of your humanity.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cal.” 

To their credit, they did, content to rest in the dim glow of old halogen bulbs. Jamie would have appreciated the sterile hum of fluorescents back in the hospital corridor, but his companion wasn’t entirely devoid of logical thought. Arriving broken to an appointment wouldn’t do him any favors with the doctor.

He turned to the mirror where the faux heart smiled back, nestled comfortably between two steel panels where his pectorals had once wasted the precious space. Wan skin stretched in an endless expanse around it. 

Chk-chk-chk-chk-chk-

Jamie’s fist nearly dented the left panel. 

-shhhh.

“What did I say? Faulty machinery.”

Jamie’s fist nearly dented Cal’s left cheek. The wood grain bowed around purpled knuckles. 

“Make yourself useful and open my back panel.”

“Careful.” They snatched the screwdriver before he got creative.  “Whitten will saw that one off next.”

“Good. Maybe I won’t miss next time.”

The screws whined as Cal shimmied them out, already stripped from the last ten times. Oil and grease slithered out when they reached inside for the same loose gear.

“Before I tighten you up…”

“Save it, Calvin,” Jamie spat. 

“No. No, listen to me, dammit!” They squeezed the hydraulic line and simulated beating came to a shuddering halt. “That tick-tick-tick in the upper chamber feels familiar, doesn’t it? You didn’t care to notice, but I studied your heart readings before you let that maniac replace it, and this thing is mimicking your atrial fibrillation. Whitten didn’t fix anything!” Jamie’s fist found its mark. 

“Get your filthy hands out of my chest! This fucking thing keeps me alive, and you think you can use it as leverage to preach your naturalist bullshit?! How about I squeeze the breath from your throat, huh? How high and mighty will you be then?” An open palm pushed Cal back up against the door.

“This isn’t about an agenda, it’s about him!”

“Human hearts can’t be tightened and adjusted.” Each finger clamped down one by one, compressing supple skin. “One little mistake and it’s all over.”

“Is that a threat?” Cal wheezed.

“Stand down, or it will be.”

Chk-chk-chk-chk-shhh. Smoke billowed up between them. 

“Let me be clear,” Jamie continued. “I’d let Whitten pick apart every bone in my body before I let you lay another finger on me.” Cal was flung to the ground, clutching their crushed trachea and retching softly against moldy grout and piss-stained stones. The salt and rot crawled up their tongue.

“Don’t come crawling back when he ruins you too, Jamie.”

He slung his bag over a bare shoulder and dropped the jacket into Cal’s arms. A moment of hesitation, then a wad of saliva splattered across their forehead.

Day 2: Alt Prompt: Seizure + Day 3: Like a record, baby: Vertigo

Characters: Generic (whumpee + caretaker + medic)

Warnings: None, appart from a breif mention of nausea.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

“Whumpee? Whumpee, can you hear me, love?”

Everything was sore and Whumpee groaned. Their head was pillowed on something soft, yet the rest of their body was lying on the hard floor. Caretaker’s capable hands were carding through their hair, and despite all the pain and the unknowns, they relaxed into the sensation.

“They're coming back,” Medic said somewhere above them, and Whumpee recognised their hand clutched around their wrist. “You ok, Whumpee?”

Day 11 - Fright/Freaky Friday (Hallucinations, truth serum, “Why would you even say that?”)

TW/CW: Interrogations, truth serum Word count: (585)

Imagine though. Imagine Whumpee had been torture for hours. Possibly days-weeks or even months. They’ve been interrogated restlessly and mercilessly. But now their Whumper has let off of them. Suddenly they‘re being left alone. It was unnerving. Had they finally given up?! But then Whumper opens the Whumpees door again and ruins the sweet tensed illusion…

Whumpees head lifted at the sound of their cell door opening. They hadn‘t heard it in a few days, only the sound of the little food tray.

Whumper entered the room, their usual cat-like predatory behavior passively set. With casual steps they approached Whumpee.

All they could do was stare up at them through matted hair, too tired and too scared to actively fight back they again resulted to their words: „I won‘t tell you what you want to know. Just give up already. I will die with this information, I‘ve proven it time after time.“

Whumper hunched down on their knees in front of their victim. Deceptively gentle they pushed the matted hair out of their scarred face. „That you have.“, they mused. „And you did truly a miraculous job at keeping the secrets, I will personally make it my duty to ensure your friends learn of your loyalty. Alongside a little videos.“, they added more quietly. „And I’m not here to torture it out of you this time, you‘ve successfully proven that that won‘t work. Noo I‘m here for another reason.“, Whumper explains sweetly. They hold up a small glass vile filled with an unnaturally blue fluid. „Drink up, sugar cube.“

Whumpee‘s eyes widened at the elixir, they had no idea what it was but they surely couldn‘t trust it! They couldn’t trust Whumper! They started to panic, lips pressed together to a thin line.

Whumper sighed but their face portrayed more amusment rather than irritation. They hammered their hand onto a button in the stone wall and Whumpees chains shortened drastically, effectively getting pulled back into the wall. Then they grabbed their face and hit it against the dark, stone brick wall, pressing their nose closed with their fingers.

Whumpee’s scrambling was reduced drastically by the length of the chains now but that only enhanced their panic. The sheer fear of the unknown and Whumper(‘s demeanor) bringing tears to their eyes. The threat of more pain or an excruciating death. Then they couldn’t breathe, they couldn’t breathe, and the secrets they‘ve been guarding for so long burned inside their body like the burning of their lungs. Eventually they had to surrender and gasp for air and instantly Whumper shoved the veil inside their mouth and forced them to gulp all of it down.

Whumper smiled satisfied at Whumpees horror and their chocked coughing. It shouldn’t take long now.

„What-What did you give me?!“, they managed to choke out between coughs.

Whumper stretched out a hand to ghost fingertips over Whumpees bare arm and delighted in the terrified whimper it drew out. „Oh its just a little serum, it took me a while to get though. And what its gonna do…“ They moved their fingers to Whumpees mouth and brushed their thumb over their dry and broken up lips. „It will simply…loosen your precious tongue a little for me…“ They smiled sadistically and watched the information process in their little prey‘s mind.

Loosen their tongue. But…That couldn’t mean…No! It couldn‘t possibly be a…All that they…Everything they sacrificed. All that they endured only for it to mean Nothing!? Only for their will to be removed by a few drops of chemicals!? It couldn’t be! Not after everything. Why? The universe couldn’t possibly be this cruel…! They opened their mouth subconsciously as if to say something even if they woudln’t even know what but Whumper put a single finger onto their lips, effectively silencing them.

„Now…What were you going to tell me, again?“

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober , @yourlocalgaefae33 , @princessofhe11 , @greatkittencloud , @bisexuawolfsalt

"Good morning!" Caretaker turned as they heard Whumpee enter the kitchen. "Oh! Hey, are you okay? You look kind of pale."

"I-I'm fine... just a little dizzy. I think I got up to fast." Eyes closed, Whumpee leaned against the door frame.

"Are you sick? You should lay down." Caretaker took a step closer.

"No, no, I'm fine. I promise." They stood and took a step away from the door. Their world tipped.

"Whumpee, you're really pale. Please sit down."

But Whumpee didn't hear them. They swayed on their feet. "C-Caretaker..."

Whumpee collapsed. Caretaker caught them before they hit the ground. "Shit... Whumpee, you're burning up..." Caretaker lifted the now unconscious Whumpee into their arms.

Caretaker carried Whumpee back to their bedroom and lay them down. Whumpee’s eyes fluttered open again.

"Caretaker? What... what happened?"

"You passed out for a minute. You have a fever." Caretaker ran their fingers through Whumpee's hair. "Get some rest. I'm going to bring you some food."

Whumpee closed their eyes, ashamed. "Thank you..."

Whumptober #27

"I'm fine. I prom..."

His lover, however, a slightly unhinged warrior, was very angry about it.

Civilian looked up, obviously terrified of the tall looming figure slowly approaching. Once Villain was crouched in front of her, the tears that had gathered in Civilian´s eyes were already running down her cheeks. The villain, with a mocking frown on his face, reached out to brush her tears away.

“No need to cry, sweetheart. Just tell me where Hero's hideout is and I´ll make it all better”

At that, she clenched her teeth- “Don´t call me that”. The Villain dropped the fake sympathy in his voice, then, eyes sharpening.

“I asked you a question. I expect you to answer it now… Unless you prefer I use less civilized methods to get it out of you” The civilian tensed, and her shaking worsened.

“If I knew I would tell you, trust me” A lie, but how could he know that? She looked -was- terrified, so why would she lie to someone who could -and would, given his reputation- easily snap her neck?

Wrong answer. He roughly grabbed her face, squeezing. “That's the thing, sweetheart. I don´t trust you”

Maybe he got up to use the bathroom. She can hope that he would dare to do that, rather than lying awake afraid of waking her, and waiting until morning. That would be a step forward. But the hope rings hollow.

She lies very still, listening for the sound of plumbing, or feet on the floorboards, or the bathroom door.

What if something happened?

The doors are double locked, the windows are locked. No one can get in to hurt him.

What if he got up to use the bathroom, but now he's curled up somewhere, crying, having another episode and she isn't there to help?

What if something happened, and she slept through it?

She sits up, swings her legs silently over the edge of the bed, and sees him.

Oh. This again.

He's on the floor, curled up tight. In the dark he is just a shapeless ball, but she knows how he will be lying. Knees drawn up to his chest, head tucked down between the defensive curl of his arms.

She says his name softly. There's no response. She holds her breath and listens for stifled sobbing, but she hears nothing. She says his name again. And when he still doesn't answer, she gets out of bed and goes to his side.

He startles under her cautious touch. He makes no sound, but he flinches away from her. "I'm sorry," she says helplessly. "It's just me. It's just me, I didn't mean to startle you." She can't see his expression, but she hears the hurt in his voice as he says her name.

"Come back to bed, sweetheart," she pleads. "Why?" His voice cracks on the word. "Why won't you let me sleep?" "I'm sorry, darling, you're on the floor again…" "I know." There's anger in it too now, and she pulls back in wounded confusion. "I know, I know, I know, I just want to sleep, please." She can't tell if he's really with her. If he's awake, or still trapped in memory and nightmare. "Come back to bed?" she asks again.

"I can't sleep like that." The words tumble out of him. "I can't -- it's too hot, and I feel like I'm suffocating -- and I -- I can't sleep with you right there -- I just wanted to sleep I just got to sleep and you woke me up." She can't see his tears but she can hear them. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I didn't know." Why didn't he say anything? "I just want to sleep," he repeats. "I can go," she offers, hesitant. "You can have the bed to yourself, you can have the whole room to yourself." "No."

He is moving, suddenly. All of his movements are sudden now. Urgent. Full of the fear that someone will catch him and stop him. It hurts her heart. In three jerky strides he is at the bedroom door.

"You don't have to go, sweetheart," she pleads. "I do. I do, I'm sorry, I just want to -- to be on my own." "I don't want you to sleep on the floor, please darling." "I'll sleep on the couch," he promises.