#weapon whumpee

[acta-est-fabula-plaudite]

[justbreakonme]

A random little idea I had:

Big scary living weapon whumpee following around their little old lady caretaker ready to defend her with his life on her trips to the grocery store after she saw him sitting in the rain and brought him in for tea.

He’s at least two feet taller than her and built like a tank, meant to fight and destroy and kill but she just politely asks if he’ll carry the big bag of cat food to the car as she’s “not as young as she once was”. He carries the cat food and doesn’t feel sick to his stomach following orders any more.

She retired years ago but still keeps up her errands, writing letters and playing cards with her other lady friends, all of whom coo and fawn over him (after their initial concern) and he becomes the recipient of many a homemade craft. His closet overflows with grandma sweaters and his bed is layered with quilts, and it’s the first time he’s been surrounded by such softness and warmth. And they never have to worry about having some big strong man to help get their Christmas decorations out of the attic.

He calls her Miss and ma’am, as if he was afraid of her name, while she calls him honey like it was his name. He likes it better. There were no bad memories tied to “honey”, only those of tea and cookies in her mismatched kitchen chairs and walks down to the park when the weather was nice.

They look an odd pair everywhere they go, but she simply tells anyone that asks that he’s her son, and slowly it starts to feel like it. She mentions that she’d always wanted a son (or daughter, she wasn’t fussed really), and doesn’t the universe have such a funny way of making things happen? He swallows hard and doesn’t mention that he’s always wanted a mother too.

[im-jsb]

Captain using his scary dog privilege to walk around the base..

[pythagoreanwhump]

It’s like a trope - whumpee is not a nice lil blorbo but an efficient weapon in the hands of whumper, still in pain ofc (:

ahhh yeah that makes sense lol! And also thank you to @gengarish and @michelleswhumpyreblogs for explaining too! Sorry I was in the middle of a really complicated math problem when I saw it lol all reading comprehension had left my brain

I'm not sure if this is like just asking in general or for the ask game, but ig if it's for that I'll go with :)

I like it! I think that's what my main OC kind of is, in a way. They are a soldier in a military dictatorship devoted (at least on the surface) to the cause and sacrifices themself for their country and their superiors, but they also get hurt all the time, both for punishment and for personal entertainment of those more powerful than them. There's also an AU I made with them that I really like, where it's more personal, they almost become the personal weapon of a specific person. It's fun! I like exploring the dynamics and the meanings of loyalty in that context.

My biggest problem with the trope, however, is the why of the whumpee being a weapon. I think a lot of times it involves some narrative of "brainwashing" in a way that really simplifies how human minds work and that's just not the kind of story I enjoy. Like when @michelleswhumpyreblogs was explaining it, they used the Winter Soldier as an example. Which, I honestly LOVE the Vibes™ of that story/character and a lot of the fanfiction exploring it further, but I just,, don't really buy the canon story of how he was turned into a weapon

[secretwhumplair]

The gardens, p.1

1,238 words | Royal arms (sequel to The gardens, p.0)

Content | Dehumanization, conditioning, panic attack, fear, guilt, fainting

Notes | Wherein Idalis breaks his weapon :( I’m so happy with this you guys. Poor Ainsel has to deal with a lot of confusing things today.

Taglist | @whumpy-writings @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone​ @newbornwhumperfly @whump-cravings @whumpityy @nicolepascaline  @thegreatwhodini @shameless-whumper @neverthelass @wolfeyedwitch @onlybadendings @melancholy-in-the-morning @quietshae  @whots-a-tag-precious

The weapon’s throat constricted.

It was the first time in - well, the immeasurable span since the last time it was breathing fresh air, and the scent of grass and clouds brought back, with force, the memory of screaming.

Desperate, tortured, deathly screaming, paired with the smell of burning flesh and homes.

The weapon wrapped its arms over its ears, although it knew it couldn’t escape what it had done, and without thought, whimpered, »Please no, please, not again…«

»Ainsel.« Something touched its wrist.

What was it doing? What did it think it was doing? It didn’t get to say no, that had been made clear a long time ago. If its king wanted to use it for the purpose it was made for, that was his right, and it had no choice any more than his sword. It wanted to apologize, but it couldn’t even draw a breath to do so. It fell on its knees, its chest constricting painfully.

»Ainsel.«

It wrapped its hands into its belly, curled up to press its head against the ground in a desperate plea for mercy. The gravel dug into its forehead, but it deserved that, deserved so much worse than that, for its disobedience.

Or for the things it had done, and would do again, on its king’s command.

It shouldn’t think this way - it shouldn’t think. It didn’t matter. It was only a dumb weapon, and it had been taken out to do as weapons did.

»Ainsel. Hey.« And then, after a moment, »Pay attention to me.«

What breath it had regained, hitched. »Yes sir,« it squeezed past its knotted airways, barely a whisper - of course, of course it had to pay attention, how could it let itself go like that?

»Give them a moment,« another voice said.

»They need something,« its king countered. That was who was speaking. It it hadn’t just been ignoring somebody, it had been ignoring its king. »Ainsel. Hey. Breathe with me.«

The weapon did as it was told - it was much too late for that, and it would pay, it knew it would pay, but it matched its king’s calm breaths as best as it could, even as it felt like suffocation, it wasn’t getting enough air at this rate, but the king had ordered, and eventually, its breaths became easier.

Stupid weapon. This was why it shouldn’t think, or feel, or wish. Of course its king would know better what was good for it, or at least right for it.

»Come on. Sit up. You’re doing good.«

It sat up. It tensed itself to keep from flinching when the king reached out and brushed off a small piece of gravel that had gotten stuck to its forehead. His touch was ever so soft, and something deep inside the weapon cried for more, but it shouldn’t wish. It knew it shouldn’t wish.

The king was crouched in front of it, again in that unnatural position - on the ground, with the weapon. »There you go. No one’s going to hurt you.«

The weapon swallowed. There were those nonsensical words again. »I’m sorry, sir,« it choked out, unsure what to do, unsure of anything. The gravel dug into its knees, and the pain was almost comforting. »I will do as you wish, sir.« Of course it would. What had come over it? It didn’t have a choice.

Its obedience would lead to death and destruction, but it didn’t have a choice.

It couldn’t take any more.

»It’s alright,« the king said softly, getting to his feet. The weapon flinched, its body expecting a kick, but nothing came. »Can you get up?«

The weapon clambered to its feet, keeping its eyes firmly on the ground. It wasn’t its business to look, and truly, it didn’t want to see where it was going, what it would destroy.

It just stayed on the king’s heels as he led the way. It heard-felt Cassio walking behind it, making sure it didn’t step out of line.

They hadn’t walked far when they stepped onto grass. Somewhere nearby, birds were chirping, and the hum of insects filled the air.

The weapon tried not to think. It wasn’t its place to think, or feel, or wish. But it did feel something inside of it crack, and tears were rolling down its face before it knew what was happening. Looking out at the world from the windows of the room it had been placed in had felt like an immeasurable mercy. And now, it was here, outside.

It knew only too well what being outside meant. Soon, the king would point it at whatever - whoever - it was he wanted destroyed. Then, its task completed, it would be put back into storage.

It was only a weapon, and it shouldn’t wish for this to last.

»Look up, Ainsel,« the king said, in this strangely soft voice he always used when talking to it. »You’re missing all the flowers.«

Obediently, it raised its head, trembling head to toe from more emotions than it knew what to do with. A weapon shouldn’t feel, anyway.

Trees gently whispered in the breeze, half-hidden birds hopping from twig to twig. Bushes bloomed in white and soft pink and purple. Flowerbeds swirled across the ground in bright reds and yellows. Streams ran quietly in carefully carved channels, the bright sunlight sparkling on their surface.

The weapon blinked tears away, but fresh ones welled up instantly. It had been ordered to look, and it couldn’t, although it wanted - it shouldn’t want, but it wanted, it had been so long-

»It’s been a while since you’ve been out of there, huh?« the king said, slowing as they wandered through the too-beautiful garden.

»Yes sir.« It was almost a sob. It had to answer clearly, but it was so hard.

»Do you like it?«

The weapon choked. »N-no sir,« it replied hastily. It had made more than enough mistakes for a day; it could only hope the king would be merciful. »I’m only a weapon.«

The king stopped, and its breath hitched again. That had been right, hadn’t it? But it was impossible to tell - so far, it hadn’t figured out a single thing about how this new king wanted it to behave.

It could only hope he would be merciful.

»No, Ainsel. You’re not.« He said it with the same softness, as if he wasn’t, again, pulling the floor out from under the weapon - what else would it be to him, then? It wished he would tell it what he wanted, but a weapon shouldn’t wish, but the king had said it wasn’t a weapon-

»You’re confusing them,« Cassio said quietly.

»They have to learn this sooner or later. Look at me, Ainsel.«

It looked at him, because it had to, no matter how wrong it felt.

»You’re a person.«

It couldn’t contradict its king. But it knew this must be wrong. It may have believed that, a long time ago, but it had been wrong.

It could only stand there and look at its king, like it had been ordered, and wish to look away wish to be told what was going to happen to it wish for a gentle touch feel terrified feel blessed by the fresh air feel dread at the prospect of what it might have been taken out for-

Think of how its king was wrong.

How dared it?

»Hey-« it heard before it fell into darkness.

[professional-idiocy]

Whumpee finally seeing their old friends, also former whumpees of Whumper.

Only for them to think Caretaker is the same as Whumper keeping them as a weapon.

If you want to use this please tag me @professional-idiocy since I wanna see where this goes

[professional-idiocy]

They owed a lot to Caretaker. They'd been so kind to bother with a broken thing like them.

Whumpee knew they needed to get a birthday gift for Caretaker. They didn't have much to offer but yes that would do.

Whumpee smiled warmly. It really was perfect.

"Happy birthday Caretaker" They said with a smile which Caretaker returned, not knowing what was to come.

"I know it's not much, but please–"

Whumpee said bowing perfectly just like Whumper had taught them

"–feel free to use me any way you wish"

If you get an idea from this, please tag me @professional-idiocy as I want to see where it goes

[professional-idiocy]

Whumpee that has been treated as a weapon finally gets injured enough on a mission for the Whumper to discard them. They're left in an alley to die in the middle of winter. Only to be found by Caretaker or they might not be so lucky ;3

Ps. Tag me @professional-idiocy if you use this. I want to see where this goes