#workplace whump

[whumblr]

Overworked Whumpee damn near ready to collapse going all:

"I will get it better. Please, I won't disappoint you. I'll keep at it all day and all night!" Determination shines bright in those blood-shot eyes but they can't get their fingers to stop shaking, so they curl them into a fist and give a half-hearted pump to emphasize their words.

Whumper is unimpressed, however:

"Yes... given the consequences, I would do the same if I were in your shoes."

[painwithoutplot]

is there Anything better than slamming whumpee's forehead into the edge/corner of a desk in workplace whump ^-^

[gummylovesmint]

There's no law against slamming your whumpees head against the desk!! If they mess up a paper? Give it a good slam!! They need to learn better!! Mess up your coffee? Slam against the corner!! Make you make them bleed too!! Makes them want to be better!! They need to learn better :)

[sweetestmarshmallow]

A loud crack echos throughout the office no one says anything. Whumpee messed up today and that's the punishment they deserve whumper stared at whumpee pissed the blood tricks down whumpees head but they don't let a sound slip they deserve this they didn't work hard enough today it's fair it's punishment..they deserve it.

[bedtimescenarios]

𝕭𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 1- A tale as old as time

Next part

Masterlist

...

Their next show had to be perfect, otherwise Fay was not guaranteed the privilege of having two eyes.

At least, that’s what they imagined Elkhan might do to them. Perhaps the loss of a leg was in order instead. Or a two hour whipping. Oh, he’d recently bought a new cane, one sturdy enough to break a few ribs with only a couple of hits. That too. So many options for the circus owner to pick from, so many scenarios for Fay’s nightmares to adopt as swiftly as a stray kitten.

“Again.” they barked at the gymnasts, clustering all their thoughts and letting them disperse in the form of an order. The twins gave a haggard look, breaths heavy, yet Fay merely ushered them back into the rink with a swift motion of their head. Their exhaustion was evident, and despite a misty form of empathy persisting in their chest, Fay could not falter in leadership. Any slip up, as Elkhan loved to highlight, reflected poorly not only upon the person in cause, but also on the ringleader. On their—Fay’s—negligence. Negligence was unacceptable in his domain.

Fay watched closely as the gymnasts resumed their routine almost flawlessly, yet tainted by the imperceptible sloppiness specific to fatigue. They debated offering a break after they finished the set. That thought was instantly set aside as a stripe of light appeared to their right, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps alongside a cane.

Instinctively, Fay straightened up. Their eyes followed the routine before them, yet their mind followed Elkhan’s approach. The man stopped beside them and followed their gaze, hands resting on the polished staff. A moment of silence followed.

“I trust everything is in order. I’ll watch today’s rehearsal.” Elkhan spoke up, his tone carrying finality. He didn’t turn for confirmation—he was aware that he did not require it.

Fay inhaled deeply, that realization intensifying the always-present frustration in the back of their throat. They regurgitated a reply before they could process it fully. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Elkhan shifted, and, for a second, Fay pictured the cane strike their head until a half moon indent formed. Whatever expression they made following that product of their imagination must’ve satisfied the circus owner, because nothing followed except for a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. Of course the bastard got off on their unease, they thought.

They looked into the rink, where the twins were diligently working on one of their more impressive moves, undoubtedly having noticed the owner's presence.

He took another painfully long pause before responding. “Has Roger mastered his last act?”

The mention caused Fay’s gaze to trail down to the sand lined floor. They considered lying, yet that would be recognized and bring forth unpleasant consequences. “Not yet,” they began, “but he’s almost there. He just can’t manage the final toss, but-”

“So many ‘but’s…” Elkhan licked his lips, then faced a suddenly-wary Fay. “You are aware of the fact that this show will be attended by incredibly influential people, correct?”

“Yes, I just-”

“Did I give you permission to speak beyond answering my question?” A stern element that hadn't been there before appeared in his tone.

Fay almost shuddered. They shook their head, pursing their lips. Whether it was out of obedience or out of fear of impulsively cussing out the person with the most control over their well-being, they were not quite sure. What they did know was that self preservation was something they ought to work on a bit harder. Their body was still sore.

That hint of a smile returned on the other's face, taking an increasingly wolfish turn. He tilted his head, eyes trailing across Fay's face with a closeness so great that they wondered if their skin would cave in where they'd been observed.

“Manners are a crucial part of our relationship, Fay.”

They did not speak up then.

Elkhan seemed simultaneously pleased and amused as he continued. “I keep having to remind you of them,” he circled around the mauve-haired ringleader, making a show of lifting a lock of hair off their shoulder before letting it fall back down, “and my patience is growing thin.”

“I'm a patient man, am I not, Fay?”

Fay almost laughed a reply, but that eventually remained unvoiced. Instead, they forced a nod, jaw clenched and features colder.

“So what does me losing my patience indicate?” The man pressed on, now behind them.

Fay sighed, exasperated. They hoped it wasn't too loud as they mentally prepared their response. They did not get a chance to voice it.

In an instant, the side of Elkhan’s cane was pressing against their throat. Fay's hands instinctively shot up with a gasp, gripping the material on both sides of their head and pushing outwards with all their might. They barely registered the way the twins flinched and continued their work silently in the distance. They couldn't breathe properly, yet they were painfully aware of the fact that Elkhan was not using his full force. They continued to push, attempting to get their airway to do its job correctly again.

“Hands down.” The smile was evident in his voice.

After another quick push against their windpipe, Fay gave in, expecting their sudden obedience to counter the warning move. Their hands lowered into fists at their sides, fighting all natural preservation instincts. The grip only grew stronger. Ragged half breaths soon turned into mere gasps. Their fingers twitched. They couldn't breathe.

“Tsk. Turn your head towards me more.”

Elkhan tilted the cane upwards to forcefully push into their jaw. Fay did not resist. They could barely see a blur of the man's face in their peripheral, yet they knew he was practically basking in their expression. Drinking in every gasp, every twitch. Every ounce of pain glimmering inside their eyes and settling down like snow, so beautifully hypothermic. He was planning a blizzard.

It was only when Fay's vision was nearly overtaken by dark specks that he stopped.

Fay fell, sand sticking uncomfortably to their knees and palms as they coughed and gasped violently. A moment was all they had to themselves before a cold, familiar material pushed against their chin. They raised their head, looking up at Elkhan from their position, utterly miserable. The man's smile was wide.

“How unfortunate it is that I have to keep you intact for two more days. I loved that show you just put on.”

Fay's breath caught in their throat before they remembered they were allowed to use it. Elkhan bared his teeth in his next grin.

“From the top,” he instructed the gymnasts without taking his eyes off the figure on the floor.

His hand was in Fay’s hair the next second, and with a grunt, they were pulled back up to their feet. He let go in favor of holding the cane again, and Fay did not dare fall without permission.

“I'll keep count of the error record after the show.” Elkhan stated, settling casually.

They were in the same position as before, side by side, as if nothing had happened. The entire existence of Fay's pain, the validity of it, was wiped away with a look and a word. The gymnasts stood by in their previous positions, the wooden cane horizontally propped against the ground, and no trace of the struggle remained. Just before commencement, Elkhan's whisper reached the ringleader's ear.

“You won't recover so easily then.”

...

i'm finally getting more into OC stuff!

thanks to @chaotic-orphan, whose writing motivation advice i used to get myself to write this! :D the timer technique worked, yay!

ps. if you want me to remove the tag, lmk!

double ps.-- people, go check out her blog if you haven't already, it's awesome

[whumpy-coconut]

Some Realistic Workplace Whump

Sofie tied the apron around her all-black uniform. The mirror reflected the light off of her golden butterfly necklace, her two little braids swooshing as she finished. Her stomach caught as she forced her muscles to walk out the apartment door?

 She mentally ran through the checklist of everything she needed: key, phone, ID, check. Satisfied, she approached the bus stop. She found her favorite seat not too close to the front, but not the very back either. Her stomach growled as she sat. She opened her bag, hoping she had forgotten a protein bar or something edible. All the bag contained was some crumbs and half a wrapper she didn't remember putting in there.   

Her shift was till 11 that night; she'd have to wait till then to eat whatever she still had in her fridge. She knew she had at least some bread, if it was still good, and some peanut butter, too. Her stomach protested at the thought. She silently moaned in pain, something she'd become intimately familiar with over the past few weeks.   

Her bus arrived at her stop, and she stepped off, making the short walk to the front entrance. Once inside, she set her bag down on the floor and examined the vending machine in the break room. She saw chips, candy, drinks, nothing she felt her stomach wouldn't spit back out.   

She longingly stared at it before shaking her head, torn between her hunger and her bank account, she continued past the glowing machine.   

As she waited for her official start time, the bus stopped an hour early, and she thought about the unstarted assignments she still had to do. She'd have to get more of it done the next day during the 3 hours she had from waking up to working. She sighed, wishing she'd been able to go grocery shopping. If it didn't take two hours, maybe she could've found time.   

She laid her head on the table until her alarm went off, forcing her to hurry to the computer to clock in. She found Christine waiting at the small flower station, already unwrapping new Daisies.  

 "Come put these away." She said, dropping the daisies in and pushing the bucket towards her. Sofie nods, grabbing the bucket and taking it to the table, where a variety of similar kinds of flowers sat. By the time she got back, Christine was typing something in the system. They fell into their usual rhythm as the day went on. Until it's already a few hours after "lunch break," a total of 15 minutes, and the only allotted break. Christine was tying a bow around the newest creation Sofie wasn't allowed to touch.   

"I need to go to the bathroom real quick," Sofie stated hesitantly  

"We need to get the new roses out, and there are some new ones that need to go into the cooler.' That non-response was a yes.   

"Ok," Sofie replied as Christine reached for the cart. It was only a few minutes till Sofie came back, finding Christine knee-deep in the cooler. She noticed that both the cart and the floor have roses. Thinking maybe she could help out, she took the ones on the floor over to the display, and while unwrapping the cardboard, she heard   

"SOFIE, Sofie, stop!" getting closer each repeat. She looked as Christine stopped next to her.   

"Those are the new flowers, now they're going to expand, I can't sell these, why'd you do that?" Sofie stammers   

 "I thought those were the old ones." Christine huffed.   

"Well, they weren't. Take these back right now, I'll have to figure out what to do with them." Sofie's throat tightened.   

"ok" She grabbed the flowers, barely registering anything except her chest constricting. She finished, through her blurry vision, and she caught Christine furiously setting out the correct flowers. She knew she wouldn't be missed, so even though she was just there, she headed back to the bathroom.   

She was shaking by the time she sat on the toilet. She grabbed her thumb with her opposite hand. She just needed to calm down, it's ok, it wasn't that big of a deal. She's fine. No matter how sternly she said it, the tears fell even more rapidly. The noise of the people in the breakroom across the hall only added background music to her panic attack, which she'd had enough of to at least recognize by then.   

She stayed in the bathroom for the 5 minutes she could get away with, barely removing evidence from her blotched eyes before returning to the station.   

'Fill up this vase." The vase is shoved into her hand. She'd had to be shown 5 times how to turn on the water hose, and still could barely get it to turn off and on when she needed. Christine turned it on. She was midway through filling it when she saw a customer in the corner of her eye,   

"Hi, can I get a custom order, just these flowers in this vase, please?" The customer must've handed the flowers over, but all Sofie noticed was the tiny heart-shaped vase as Christine took it.   

"Sure, the price is going to be 12 dollars. I'll put it together, but you have to take it to the checkout." The vase Sofie filled was almost full when.   

"Fill this up." The heart vase is set next to her. She was working up the courage to explain how the big purple vase she's filling is almost full, so it felt most logical to finish that first since it would only take a few seconds, but "NOW!" Christine barks, and Sofie jumps, her back arched and her hand moved before she could even process it happening. The new vase got filled and passed to the customer, who went on his way to checkout, while Sofie finished filling the abandoned large vase. Passing it over to Christine, who filled it with an order before boxing it for delivery. She turned to Sofie, "When I say to do something, do it. The customer was waiting." In her head, Sofie could imagine explaining it was only going to take 5 seconds, and it made the most sense to finish the other task she was given first since she was already in the middle of it, but the words never had a chance of reaching her throat, even before dying off on her tongue.   

The last few hours were practically silent until finally Sofie collected her bag and headed to the bus stop, not fully being able to sigh in relief until she was back home in bed, eating a piece of bread and peanut butter, which tasted way better when it was the only food she'd eaten basically all day. She curled up with her array of stuffed animals, pulling the covers over her as she lay down. The memories of the day replaying, guilt gnawing at her until she's finally able to fall asleep.

[spidersanonymous]

There was a soft knock at their door. Caretaker looked up from their mountains of paperwork, eyebrows furrowing as Whumpee fidgeted in the doorway.

“Hello, Whumpee,” they greeted smoothly, “is there something you needed?” Whumpee didn’t tend to stray from Whumper’s side, Caretaker could only imagine what they might need. With a glance at their emancipated figure, probably a hot meal and a bed.

“Caretaker, i-” Whumpee bit their lip, shakily stepping further into Caretakers office, “I need- help. Your help,” they finished lamely, shifting on their feet as they awaited Caretaker’s response.

Caretaker rose an eyebrow, a record amount of seven words in a span of all of twenty seconds, “Okay?” they set down their pen, giving Whumpee their full attention, “Here,” they stood up from their chair, the old metal shrieking, “i think you need a seat, yes?”

Whumpee’s lip curled down but they still crossed the room and sat down, the chair groaning quietly under their weight. They hugged their arms around themself, head bowed as they anxiously glanced at the door.

Caretaker hummed, eyes tracing over Whumpee before making a decision, “I could close the door if you’re that concerned about it,” they nodded towards the doorway.

“Don’t,” Whumpee rasped, eyes widening as their words registered; still, they continued, “it isn’t- it’s not- it’s… fine.” their frown deepened as they stammered through the words. Caretaker could sympathize.

“If you’re sure,” Caretaker shrugged, leaning against their table with as much casualty as they could manage, “so, you needed my help with what, exactly?” they asked, not unkindly.

“Um,” their arms tightened, “i need- you help victims um, escape from their abu-abusers, right?”

Caretaker leaned forward with rapt attention, eyes sharpening as they drank in Whumpee’s quivering lips, tight posture, the way their nails picked at the fabric of their shirt. Caretaker never saw Whumpee at lunch, nor did they ever come to the employee hang-outs on weekends. Something forced the ever elusive Whumpee to come out of hiding. “Right,” they nodded, “I do.”

“Okay,” they nodded once, twice, “Yes, there was a case- Jorgie May, and her sister,” they picked furiously at a view loose threads, avoiding Caretaker’s eyes as their gaze darted across the office space. There wasn’t much to see.

Caretaker hummed agreement.

“Their mother,” their voice strained, throat bobbing as they forced the words out, “she was- erm- abusive,” their eyes suddenly found Caretakers, “how did-” they licked their lips nervously, “how did they get help?” What did they say to make people believe them? Was left unsaid.

Whumpee’s words lingered in the air for a moment as Caretaker considered, leaning closer as they dropped their voice to a whisper, “They gathered evidence, took pictures of their injuries, recorded arguments they had with their mother, things of that nature. One night their mother was drunk, so she took all of the evidence -and her sister- and went to the police,” they leaned out of Whumpee’s space, “bit hard to claim two malnourished kids covered head to toe in bruises were liars.”

Whumpee shuddered, squeezing their eyes shut as they exhaled forcefully.

“The fact the neighborhood didn’t have the highest opinions of their mother probably helped, as well,” they mused to themself.

“Thank you,” they whispered, “that’s-”

“A lot?” Caretaker suggested, eyebrow raised.

“Sure,” they shrugged, glancing at the door, “i should probably get going-”

A quiet knock interrupted Whumpee’s words as Whumper slipped in from the ajar door, “Ah,” they hummed, eyes narrowing, “Whumpee and… Caretaker. How curious.”

Not even a hello, “Hello, Whumper,” they greeted as smoothly as they could manage, “was there something you needed?” even then, their words were curt.

“There’s no need to be hostile, Caretaker,” they chastised with a frown, stalking further into Caretaker’s office, “I’m just here to collect my charge, I am responsible for them, you know,” their lips curled up, as if letting Caretaker in on a joke. Caretaker hated the look on them.

“Of… course,” Caretaker agreed, words sour, “is there any chance we could take a minute and chat?” and maybe, possibly, knock you over the head with a baseball bat?

“No, unfortunately,” they crooned with false pity, smiling sickly-sweet, “Whumpee and I have a meeting to attend, and we simply don’t have the time for any further conversations,” they spat the words, expression darkening as they grabbed Whumpee’s wrist and harshly pulled them up.

Whumpee, for their credit, didn’t yelp at the pull, even though they looked like one strong wind took knock them over. They grit their teeth, allowing themself to be pulled to Whumper’s side. Whumper curled an arm around their shoulder, looking painfully smug.

Caretaker wanted to wipe that look off their face.

“If that’s all, Whumpee and I really do have to be going,” they dragged Whumpee out the door, “it was lovely speaking with you, Caretaker.”

Can’t say the same for you, “Likewise.” They managed to spit out.

With one last smug smirk, they both disappeared behind the door, finally shutting closed with a click.

Caretaker only wished they gave Whumpee their number.

___

kind of insane about this idea tbh. not sure what about it is so good but… ohh boy. wrote this in a span of two days, lightly edited. also let me know if anyone wants to be added to a taglist lol

[classywhump]

Factory Setting Whump pt. 1

@mybrokenlittletoy mentioned workplace whump - -

Dull, windowless warehouse like a prison

The noise, the incessant screaming and clashing noise of the machines

Uniforms that erase personality and identity

Forced to stand in one place doing repetitive motion until the strain causes injury

And then keep working for hours on end as the pain keeps getting worse

No distractions no breaks

If they can’t work fast enough and things start getting past them, workers down the line yell at them

“You have one job, it’s not that hard!”

Not enough protective equipment to go around, somebody’s gotta take one for the team

Injured/cut/crushed by a machine

Hands/fingers especially

Not getting enough time to eat

Or in slave settings, just not enough to eat period. Always hungry.

Forgot how to sit down, knees won’t bend

Unsuspecting new workers get the job that breaks your body because they’re “fresh”

Go indoors before the sun comes up, leave after it goes down. Hasn’t seen the sun all week.

No set end time; the day’s work is done when you finish the quota

Thinking “almost done... it can’t be much longer, there can’t be much left”... for hours.

Dazed from exhaustion

Glassy-eyed, can’t speak

Collapsing into bed instead of doing anything after a 10-12 hour workday

“Maybe it will be better tomorrow” (It’s not)