#bytespeak

[silkenblankets]

Give pure reward by artificially injecting serotonin into your whumpee for doing exactly as you like- so they like it too.

this isn't backed by science but we have testimonials and BOY are they descriptive

[silkenblankets]

Robot whumpee is forced to remain in whumper's home, their battery is kept just out of whumpee's reach, forcing them to rely on short wires to remain powered on.

Whumpee's only comfort is Caretaker, an anonymous messenger who pops into Whumpee's comms every day for a chat. Caretaker promises to bring whumpee home so they can partake in a dance together- something whumpee is fascinated with ever since caretaker mentioned it.

After a particularly dreadful interaction with whumper, whumpee talks with caretaker and decides to grab the battery. Caretaker encourages the act, saying "now is the perfect time". So whumpee goes for it.

They manage to grab the battery.

The wires in their back pop out.

Whumpee shuts off, one hand clutching the battery and the other grazing the entrance.

Whumper comes down after the comms cut out, placing a modified battery cell into whumpee and taking them to a blank room. The whumpee is woken with a start, being bombarded with randomized inputs and commands. They can't keep from tearing off their own limbs, overwhelmed and grabbing at their head.

Whumper grabs whumpee's only remaining arm, twisting it off-

"See what you're doing to yourself?"

They're lowered into a delicate dip, the flood of inputs cease and they can finally scream when their legs are torn from their body. Whumpee is hung by a harness and left alone.

Caretaker opens comms later that night.

"You're a danger to yourself, Whumpee. You can't leave."

They seem to be resisting laughter.

-🤖

[silkenblankets]

Robot whumpee has a torso of glass, housing aquatic plants and a small snail. They consider every living thing they house to be to them what organs are to humans, tenderly caring for these "organs".

Whumpee's programming is naturally that of a caretaker, and despite having patched glass on their back and being on their fourth set of limbs, whumpee will sometimes approach whumper with gifts of trinkets or small activities.

Waiting on an order of new hands, Whumpee approaches whumper asking if they could get help trimming a sick plant's infected leaves. Surprisingly, whumper seems happy to oblige, saying they know some medicine that would help the plant. This delights whumpee.

A few days later, whumpee is having a panic attack. Their "organs" were shriveling up and decaying inside them, along with their beloved snail. Naively, whumpee pleads with whumper, who only laughs and twists their arm. It pops from the socket, being used to create a massive web of cracks in their side.

Whumpee finally registers whumper as a threat and flees.

Once Caretaker finds them, whumpee has lost a leg and their only remaining hand. All the water in their torso seems to have spilled out their side, the cracks giving way to a gaping hole.

Caretaker couldn't figure out why whumpee was always anxious and freaking out, being gentle and compassionate with the machine. One of the first things Caretaker did was patch the hole in whumpee's side, so they were at a loss on what to do to help whumpee. It takes caretaker months to realize the source of the distress, gifting whumpee new, young aquatic plants and a tiny snail.

- 🤖

[silkenblankets]

part 2 (part 1)

A soft click brought me back to life, immediately turning my head to orient myself. It was dim, with slate grey walls that seemed to be made of concrete. Creator was waiting, looking up at me with their lips curled upwards in a strangely cold expression. It was hard to tell their intentions in the low light. They lifted their hand to my face, touching and causing all the feeling to come back. Sensations... I couldn't tell if they were good, bad, or some muddy gray spot. I didn't lean into the feeling this time, I knew they disliked it. So I sharply tilted my head away, watching Creator's reaction.

Their breath was strange, starting weak and lifting to a high pitch. I didn't quite know what it was; the air they huffed out made their shoulders bounce and eyes narrow. It wasn't in a mean expressive way, it was... oddly joyful, I think. I think they wanted me to do that.

[Saved]

Creator adjusted my shoulders, nudging them down and back. I shifted my posture, and felt ever so slightly off-balance. Was something wrong about my previous stance? Creator didn't explain what they were doing, stepping back with a small nod of their head. They grabbed my hand and began to walk down a hall. Where it lead, I had not the slightest idea. It was brighter, wherever it was, I could tell that.

We stopped once we were in the new room, just as dull and gray as the previous one... But there were others. Many, many humans like Creator. But even more looked broken, marked by reds and purples. Those humans had their hands trapped behind their back and cages over their mouths, I couldn't help but be stumped on why.

What was this place? Creator didn't seem to care for filling me in, talking to other Creator-like creatures and making motions towards me. I could tell the majority of the room was staring at me, these creatures must not like each other. As I approached Creator, he stopped in his talking to give me a strange look out the side of his eye. Slowly he turned to face me, his face contorted, all scrunched up.

"I think it'll be fine. Can't die or nothin', just a hunk of metal."

I don't know if he was talking to me, I could only process some of his words. He gave me a small shove, immediately a pushed him back. I think I was pushing too hard, he ended up on the floor while the other creators made the funny sounds that make their shoulders bounce. Once he got back on his feet, he grabbed my arm.

"Save that for the rats later, dumb robot..." He muttered, leading me towards a room with bars as its front wall. That's where all the creators with discoloration and red lines were put inside, I guess me too. Creator threw me off balance with his push, and the door locked behind me. Nobody in the room said anything, but they watched me. I stepped away from the door, waving stiffly. After a minute, they slowly returned to the mundane tasks they'd been up to before I entered.

All but one, a roughed up creator-like who appeared right in front of me with this strange look on their face. I think they were inspecting me with just their eyes, wasn't that fun! I think I'll inspect him too...

He was tall enough to at the same level as the majority of my cameras, picking up on the light brown and silver color of his eyes and his black hair that brushed his shoulders. The body had definition around the muscles, but not nearly as much as many of the other creator creatures in here. He did have many of the same red marks, scattered in varied patterns across his skin. I wonder what made them, or if they were all born with them.

"What...." The creature started yanking my head up, I think he wanted me to remove my head? "... Are you?" The creature lowered his torn up hands, the funny look never left his expression. What a fun question!

"I am a hunk of metal! What are you?"

That didn't seem to get any reaction from the creature, who tilted his head form left to right as he watched me.

"Well... I guess I'm... a human?"

Ah, so Creator creatures were 'humans'. As he reached up to touch my chest, I immediately copied what he was doing and held my hands to his chest. It was strangely cold.

"Do I call you Creator?" I asked, still not sure how this all worked. I'm only a day old! How fun.

"I don't think so- er... I mean you could call me Midas?"

How fascinating, I think I knew how this worked now... Every human had a different name, I don't know what a Midas is but I'll find out I'm sure of it.

[Saved]

"Did this Creator guy tell you your name or...?"

My whole posture shifted from left to right as I searched my memory. I was told what I was, but I don't recall having a name I don't think. So I stared at Midas, slowly shaking my head. His funny look seemed to melt, his head tilted with a small frown.

"You don't have a name? I- well you gotta have something er... lemme see..."

He ran a hand down my arm, his mismatched eyes following the path of his touch.

"How about your name is... I dunno... Iron?"

I took a minute to process the change, I think I liked that name.

"Yes! What a good name!"

"Perfect, I'd hate to give you a name you don't like."

That frown was easing into the upturned lips of a smile. I did something right! I had a name- and it was good that I liked it! Maybe I could tell Creator and he could start using Iron too.

Just as I was about to bounce around from the excitement energy, Midas's little smile faded to an empty expression. Looking beside me, out the bars that made up the front wall. Turning to see what got his interest, I stared at the approached masked human. Dozens of restraints hung from their body, the outside was much darker than before. I wasn't sure what was going on but I could tell Midas was all tense, my sensors brushed his arm and picked up on the activity in an instant.

Everyone backed away from the door as it swung open, the masked human looking across the crowd before stopping when they saw me. They reached up a hand, pointing at me, then beckoning me to come closer with the curling and uncurling of the accusing finger.

It was an immediate response, hardwired into my code. I walked over without wasting a moment after seeing the small signal, a strong magnet locked onto my back.

I was pulled out, being dragged by a magnet to... I'm not sure where.

[silkenblankets]

ahem

Gimme your Whumpees, please. I wish to sketch them in cozy clothing and generally in a content- maybe even ~happy~ state

-🤖

[silkenblankets]

A bronze and leather machine, best of its kind, carefully crafted and encompassing a uniquely steampunk look. By now, they're an antique, passed down from its original creator, tweaked by his child, taught by a grandchild, upgraded and refurbished by a great-grandchild, left to gather dust in the corner of an antique shop after they could find no next of kin.

For the first few months, they explore the other antiques, they wish to chat with customers and fix any out of tune music box or chipped vase. Gradually, their metal and leather frame begins grinding against itself, losing mobility.

Two years after arriving, they're most often mistaken as a statue, a frozen artifact of a bronze and steam era. Sometimes a child will poke at the shining steel pocket in their back, a tiny flash of static giving just enough power for a brief crackle of a voice box in their chest.

Until they wake within a cozy home; with warm lighting from large open windows and a shining wooden floor fitted with a little gray rug. Someone smiles, massaging oil into their stuck joints. Little by little, they begin to move again.

"Well aren't you a curious little guy!"

The human is very kind, letting the machine explore and giving them a few days to adapt. The human sits them down after those few days, explaining that they want to do some maintenance on them; they're more than happy to oblige.

That is, until they begin to feel the human's hands, attaching wires and adding more sensations. They're confused, looking back to ask why. The human just laughs, tickling the machine and making them emulate something resembling a giggle. In the midst of their laughter, it sharply turns to a screeching sound. The human is holding a few torn wires, watching them hit the floor with a tight fist and sputter a million questions about the bad feeling, the horrible- evil feeling.

More.

They couldn't see.

What was human doing?

They wanted to scream, but their voice was muted as its wires became twisted into a useless knot in their neck. Human was murmuring gentle words, their shivering body making such a ruckus with all its parts clinking against one another; they couldn't hear a single thing.

Their back panel was shut tight, a warm hand rubbed their head and began to guide the jittering mess through a door.

It was raining outside, every drop of water that slipped in between their bronze and leather shell felt burning, slipping between stretched out seams and cracking metal. They flinched and twisted as the feeling covered them, like a box of nails forced into every exposed crevasse. Human held their hand, giving a cold, robotic rub over the soft backing of it. They felt like falling to their knees and screaming as loud as they could, but the ground was wet, and burned their feet as it seeped through the metal soles. They couldn't scream if they wanted to, anyway.

The rain's pitter-patter was out of sync with their clitter-clatter. Human raised his voice.

"Sure is nice. I knew you'd like it."

Their body tensed and twitched in response, unable to move how they wanted. Everything gave out, hitting the ground with one arm held up by Human's hand. Laying on hot coals, their hearing cut in and out, sensations becoming erratic.

Shutting down.

"Useless."

Left in a scrapyard, an arm and both legs taken. Leather stripped from their body.

"Well isn't this a curious little thing..."

Something was tickling at their back, and something clicked into place. Their head jerked up, screaming in agony as their remaining arm clawed at thin air. Unable to hear the frantic voice trying to reassure them, they continued to thrash until their screaming turned to soft cries.

Their vision blurred, becoming focused as those mystery hands worked. Everything was tainted with a strange snow overlay, they'd need replacements for their eyes. Looking down, they found where all the strange have-not sensations came from; also discovering they were suspended. Their head was turned to one side, then the next, then pushed forward.

"... Okay, was that the right one? I'm sorry I scared you."

They turned to look at the Human, much different from the other; a little crooked smile with shining, kind eyes in a darker shade of brown.

"He-llo."

"Hi buddy. Don't worry, I'll find some limbs for you in a bit. Do you know where you came from?"

They hesitated, giving a stiff nod.

"Oh- can you tell me your name? Do you have one?"

They shook their head. "N-o name."

"Can I call you..." "Bud-dy." "You wanna be Buddy?" "... Bu-ddy. Ye-s."

Human's smile seemed to grow.

"Okay, Buddy."

-🤖

[silkenblankets]

Whumpee is always blindfolded, whenever it's taken off they're inside a pitch black room. They don't like being unable to see, but they don't want to know how beaten and broken they look, either.

Caretaker focuses on covering the wounds and doing their best to help Whumpee recover, but eventually they have to bathe Whumpee, and they need to check their eyes.

Whumpee is confused, catching a glimpse of their reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Caretaker hugs Whumpee as they hide their face in Caretaker's chest and cry.

-🤖

[silkenblankets]

Whumpee thought that final blow would be the end of their misery, they'd finally be free from Whumper. Because they were dead.

They did not anticipate seeing Whumper, looming over them with a sick smile. Just like before.

"Welcome back."

-🤖