#android whump

[whumpndump]

Android Whumpee stripped down to their bare essential elements by Scientist Whumper, just a few circuit boards and some wires. They're still aware, and as sentient as they were before, but they just cant do anything. They can't see, or hear, or smell, or talk, nothing.... and then they get stored away like that, put into some box in a lab storage closet, likely to be forgotten about for a loooong time.

#whump #whumpdumps #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump prompt #android whump #nonhuman whumpee #android whumpee #nonhuman whump #sensory deprivation whump #not thinking about the concept of batteries bc if sentient robots exist here then so can battery-less ones

[bandits-whump-collection]

Machines thought to only be steel and copper, wires encased in colorful rubber and circuits soldered carefully. Yet, when their plates tear away, iron-rich blood rusts the wound and twitching organs squelch from within a thought-cold chassis.

Biomechanical things, creatures of steel shells and soft flesh, as tender as they are sharp, almost like a bug.

#whump prompt #nonhuman whumpee #whump #android whump #robot whumpee #robot whump #biomechanical whump

[mintflavouredwhump]

A sentient android whumpee reading cliché sci-fi stories about evil robots who wage war against humankind and feel upset/insulted as they would never even dream of doing such a thing.

#android whumpee #robot whumpee #android whump #robot whump #whump #tw whump #whump prompts #whump writing #whump scenario #whump inspiration #indu whumps

[the-dump-of-whump]

Robot/android whumpee’s file(s) becoming corrupted.

Does it hurt them?

Change their personality?

Give them amnesia?

Do parts of them lose their function?

Does it kill them?

#totally not inspired by what happened last night #writing #whump #whumpblr #physical whump #whumpee #prompts #writing prompts #whump idea #whump prompts #whump inspiration #scifi #sci fi #sci fi and fantasy #whump ideas #whump prompt #prompt #robot #robot whumpee #android whump #nonhuman whumpee #whump scenarios

[fern-writes-whump]

Robot / android whumpee that goes rogue and kills whumper, but is too damaged to run away. So they just drag themselves outside and watch the sunrise as they wait for their battery to run out.

#whump #whumpee #android whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumper #whump trope #fern whumps

[pigeonwhumps]

The Little Android

Everything taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

My entry for the Once Upon a Blade anthology by @thewhumpyprintingpress (which is really good btw, you should buy it if you can) which I've been meaning to post for months.

An android whump retelling of The Little Matchgirl by Hans Christian Anderson.

1.2k

CWs: android whump, torture, dehumanisation, slavery, denial of basic needs, threats of death, implied major character death

The android sits down against the wall of a crowded metal walkway, box of batteries in its hand. One arm is made up of loose wires and artificial nerve endings left when the attachment was ripped from its socket, and as they brush against the wall they send a jolt of pain through its systems, almost causing it to drop the box. If only its owner had deactivated its pain circuits after the experiment was completed, but he thought they would be useful to control it. And as a synthetic life form, it does not have the right to deactivate them itself.

It needs to sell these batteries. Oh, they look so tempting, they could power it for the day it’s sure, it would have constant heating and a properly working voice and its power wouldn’t flicker out so often. But it’ll get credits if it sells them, and it’s therefore less likely to end up on the scrap heap.

It tries for eight point seven hours, but it doesn’t make a single credit. Passers-by barely give it a second glance. If it’s lucky. Some step around it with a wide berth, giving it dirty looks and whispering behind their hands (sometimes not even whispering, it doesn’t matter, it’s not a human after all). A few teenagers make a game of tugging at its exposed nerve endings to see who can make it scream the loudest, and nobody stops them, they just look annoyed at the noise. It’s moved on by security more than once.

Finally the lights in the station switch to night mode, dimming and turning slightly orange, reducing the blue light. Usually the android would adjust its vision to compensate so it could keep working with ease but that function no longer works.

The place it was last moved along to, where it is now, gets almost no night traffic. There’re no shops or clubs or living hubs, there’s no reason to come here unless you’re maintenance staff, who can’t, or won’t, buy from it anyway. There’s no point staying.

Except if it goes back to the shop with no credits again, it will be deemed useless and stripped for parts. Maybe even without its pain circuits being deactivated first.

Its power flickers out for a few seconds. When it restarts, the android is on the floor. It doesn’t know how long it was out, which is unnerving but common recently.

Maybe just a little boost of battery power. Just to keep it going.

It chooses a battery, unwraps it with stiff, creaky fingers, and plugs it into a port on its side.

The power zaps around its body and it feels a simulation of warmth for the first time in so long. It’s almost comfortable.

In the distance, it sees its makers’ workshop. They’re laughing and joking together as they start up the charger, preparing to test parts that the android knows are custom-made. It used to help with the more dangerous parts of the job, before they ran out of money and were forced to sell it.

It feels so warm and cosy, and as the light envelopes it, it opens its mouth to speak.

The light disappears. The warmth disappears. The android tries to hang on but it must have had a power surge in its decision-making module.

It feels even colder now. Any warmth is gone, any semblance of care from someone else. What does it have in its life, really? No-one does anything except order it around and stimulate its pain circuits. Nobody even interferes when the pain is malicious. Not anymore.

It takes out another battery. If it’s going to be scrapped anyway it might as well make it worth it.

As soon as it’s plugged in, the station disappears. It’s inside a charging station, one of the ones for VIPs and their androids. It had a job cleaning these, once. Mobile charging packs, as much premium oil as the android can drink, oiled joints, comfortable places to stand or sit… it has dreamed about them, sometimes. It was allowed to drink the last dregs of oil and it really was premium.

This one is busy with humans in fancy clothes and the latest models, so much more advanced than itself. No-one is paying attention to the android, and it walks through the central aisle, approaching a serving station. It reaches out a hand for an oil can, wires jittering in anticipation at the taste, the feel of its body afterwards—

The illusion fades.

The android is left cold and alone on the floor of the space station. There’s not much use for softness for androids but oh, how it wishes. It’s been so long since it had oil, only getting just enough lubrication to stop it from rusting entirely. It doesn’t deserve anything more until it starts to be useful. But it won’t be, and it just feels empty.

It’s startled out of its reverie by a beep beep beep of warning. Its power is depleting even faster than normal. If it doesn’t get to a charging point soon it’ll power down for good.

Surprisingly, the android finds itself not caring overly much anymore. What does it have to go back to, after all?

The android plugs in another battery.

It’s on a starship deck in night mode. The observation deck. It’s always wished to be stationed on one of these. It’s charging against a wall, sitting down, and it can see the stars.

They’re bright spots against the darkness, mostly, but in the distance it can see nebulas, colourful clouds of dust and stars. That’s when it realises its vision is fixed. It can see properly, for the first time is years. Who bothered to fix that?

Then reality hits it. Nobody did. The android here, the one with the fixed vision and someone who cares and such a good posting, it doesn’t exist. This is a dream. An illusion. Something it’ll never get.

It touches its reflection in the glass, feeling a pang from somewhere inside that shouldn’t exist. It’s been fixed, like a patchwork, different colours and textures of paintwork, but it’s more than it will ever really have, more than it deserves. Engine oil leaks slightly from the edges of its vision sensors. Good quality oil too. It really is getting the best on this dreamship.

It can feel itself fading. Its consciousness is fading. And it’s nowhere near a power socket really, so it’ll deactivate permanently this time.

But it doesn’t have anything to lose. There’s no-one who cares, no-one who won’t take it apart for scrap as soon as it returns with no credits and barely any batteries. No-one will mourn it if it stays here. Someone will take the batteries and someone will take its parts and they’ll sell both but they won’t care. What’s the point?

The android sinks back down, leaning back against its comfortable charging wall. It closes its eyes for the last time to an exploding supernova.

The science doesn’t really make sense. But it’s far too tired to care.

#whump #whump writing #android whump #android whumpee #robot whumpee #robot whump #scifi #science fiction #the little match girl #fairy tale retelling

[misscrazyfangirl321]

android is also the local tech expert, so when they start to malfunction they have to talk their human friends through how to repair them, even though the procedure is painful?

OOOOO

"There's a panel-" Speech. Talking. Unexpectedly difficult. Something is wrong. Wrong. Malfunctioned. Glitching. "On my back. On the left side." Left? Process. Repeat. Clarify. "Right side."

"Listen, I don't know about this." Scared. The human is scared. (So am I. Another glitch. Another malfunction. Another failing.) "Maybe we should wait until Frankie gets back."

Frankie Hills. Mechanic. Fifteen. Expert. This human is not an expert. He's new; his name isn't in my database yet. But he's not a mechanic. I know that; he told me. "No time. Glitching. Crashing. Odds of successful repair... Dropping."

This doesn't make him calmer. His hands are shaking, which is bad. Wrong. He's glitching. (But humans don't glitch. They just exist. Why can't I just exist?) I search my database, ignoring the strain on my processor. If I'm not careful, I'll overheat, but he'll never get anywhere without my help.

Comfort words. Excellent. "It will be-be okay." Repeating. Echoing. I'm overloading my system. Audio quality is suffering. "I believe in you."

An odd thing: belief. I don't know what it means. But I know I'm broken, and he's the only one who can fix me. I need him to fix me, before it's too late.

In any case, the words seem to assure him. His features shift. Change. The word comes to my processing center unbidden: Soften. He relaxes, and clears his throat. "Left panel?"

"Right." Then, when he starts to reach, I clarify, "Right panel. Right side. Not correct. Right."

This gives him pause, but only briefly. Then he reaches again, this time for the right (right, correct, direction) panel. When he twists the screwdriver, my sensors burn in protest, and I cannot stop a noise from slipping out. Unfortunate; it frightens him.

"Did I hurt you?"

Hurt: to cause pain. My sensors are not for pain; they serve as alarms for things that pose a threat. They tell me if things are too hot, too cold, subject to cause harm to my hardware or programming. It sends a warning through my wires; I find it unpleasant, but that does not make it pain.

My processor is too close to overheating; I cannot explain all of this. "Yes." It falls within the parameters of truth the Organization has defined for me. "Remove the panel."

"But if it's going to hurt you-"

"It must be removed. There is no other way to repair me."

He makes a noise of his own: a groan, a human sound for pain. But why is he in pain? He isn't; he hurts for me. Hurts because I suffer. Still, though, he sets to work, removing the panel. This time, when noises escape, he does not falter.

"Now what?"

"There are two wires: red and green."

"You have a lot more wires than that back here."

His voice has changed. Taken on a sound: a drawl. So this is sarcasm, then. A human attempt at humor, to make me feel more relaxed (or perhaps, to make him feel more relaxed).

"Those do not matter. Find the red and green wires."

He makes another noise, similar to the grunt, but lighter. Louder. I identify it as laughter; he thinks I've made a joke in turn. Very well.

"Okay, got 'em. What do I do?"

This will be unpleasant. I know this. These wires are not meant to be exposed, so they're connected to powerful sensors. When he does what he must, it will overwhelm my system. But it has to happen.

"Wait until I finish speaking. Disconnect both wires, and insert the yellow drive on the table into the slot behind those wires. Then, reconnect the wires. Make sure you do not cross them."

He waits five seconds-I count-to ensure that I'm done talking. I've encountered droids far less compliant than him. Then, he asks, "What happens if I cross the wires?"

The sensation I experience isn't truly fear; it's simply programming, a jolt of warning, an attempt to preserve data. I'm more useful when I have all of my data, after all. Still, I sound unsteady even to myself when I reply, "System reboot."

Wiping me. Erasing me forever. I would still be here, but not here. Not me. Something else. Someone else. But me. I don't want to think about this; it will definitely overwhelm my processors.

"I'm done speaking," I inform him, because he still hasn't continued the procedure.

"Right, just, uh... Brace yourself." There is nothing to brace myself against; there is nothing to prepare me for this.

"I will not be able to guide you any longer," I warn, and he hesitates. Humans have something called intuition, and I suspect right now that his is activating, inferring from the data I've provided that this will not be a good experience for me. It will, however, be a necessary one.

He knows. Clears his throat. "Okay. Here goes nothing."

A strange thing, something humans often say before things which are most definitely not nothing. A human contradiction; they have many.

Then, all programs running in my mind cease, replaced only with sensor alerts, warnings, jolts- (it hurts-)

Processing fails.

-

I've been recharged. It isn't truly waking up, but that's what humans call it, when I shift from powered down to powered up. All of my sensors are operating at normal levels, not detecting any negative input.

And all of my data is in-tact.

The man is sitting by my charging stall, watching me with an odd look on his face. I run it through my processors (running smoothly now, easily able to take in the new information): It is exhaustion. While I have been recharging, he has not done the same. Curious.

"You require sleep. My calculations indicate that your performance will be diminished by more than-"

"You're okay!" He interrupts me, and-as per my programming-I cease imparting information. Then he stands, reaching over and wrapping his arms around me.

A hug; I don't need to check my database for that. I've observed it before, frequently. It's strange, finally experiencing it. My sensors exist for detecting threats, but the pressure is too light to register as a threat. It does register, though; awareness without warning. It's... Not unpleasant.

"You performed the procedure adequately," I inform him, because my records indicate that moments of embracing call for phrases of sentiment.

He laughs, again. That's not the correct response to sentiment; maybe I didn't do it right. But he hugs me again-more tightly, but still not tight enough to send a warning-before releasing me.

"Thanks for talking me through it," he says.

Odd, to thank me for something that benefitted me more than him. Programming and experience both tell me, however, that there is only one response he's seeking.

"You're welcome."

#.... idk what happened here #answered #thanks for the ask! #whump #android whump #my fics #my writing #mine #salt and light #lurking-latinist #long post

[redd956]

Android/Robot Whumpee Ideas 1

Android whumpees are a personal favorite of mine, and was long before Detroit: Become Human even was a thing.

Whumpee being discovered in a scrap yard by a tech savvy Caretaker

Whumpee having their memory files removed or wiped

Whumpee's circuits and parts being so mistrewn that they are a barely functioning mess. They twitch and jerk, glitch constantly, and have a hard time doing any tasks that they were meant for.

Broken voice box

Sparking and exposed wires

A broken eyelid that won't properly open, either staying halflidded or closed.

Glowing robotic eyes flickering with life unexpectedly. (Possible one missing or down)

Whumpee missing its parts due to being salvaged

Whumpee being sold from their company to Whumper

Whumpee running out of battery/energy (They're afraid to)

That loud shutting down noise and the way a robot sputters when they unexpectedly shut down

Missing limbs and exposed wires

#whump #whumpee #whump ideas #caretaker #whump stuff #whump prompt #whump tropes #whump prompts #nonhuman whump #android whump #robot whump #robot whumpee #robotic whumpee #android whumpee #whump scenes

[iamhumannotamonster]

An Android, not knowing they aren’t human, discovering they are an android is such a good trope. Whoever came up with this originally I’m kissing them I’m hugging them. Imagine discovering your whole life is fake, that you are fake, that you are just a robot. All the self-deprecating thoughts, comparing yourself with pieces of tech, feeling like you are an imposter, living with the fear of the friends you have discovering.

Wouldn’t it be horrifying if you were made with a nefarious purpose, a killer machine, a spy?

Or even discovering you were made as a replacement of a human long dead!

Maybe someone in a team of heroes discovering they are a robot made by the villain. What if the whole group discovers at the same time? Not even being able to process this about yourself when the others are scared and angry because of you. But I would like it better if they discover first, living with the shame of the secret, flinching at the mention of villain and their robots or anything tech related.

Sad! Sad situation. Alexa play Despacito 🤖🎶

#whump prompt #robot whumpee #android whumpee #robot whump #android whump #superhero whump #whump scenario #my post

[rule-masochism]

mess with the hinges around your robot whumpee's mouth (if they have one), figure out how to make it so they can't close it. squirt lube down their throat, into their mouth, then shove your hand down and rub it everywhere, make sure everything's coated. force them on their knees and use as you please!

#and no gag reflex either.... #android whump #android whumpee #noncon whump #nsfwhump #my words #whump prompts

[bandits-whump-collection]

The android laid still on its table. Quiet, calm, artificial eyelids half closed over camera lenses. Its unscrewed chassis laid in pieces around it, and yet, it fully trusted the human with hands tucked away in its componets, peeling back layers of grime, washing out caked layers of oil. It knew it was placing its life in the human's hands, and yet, there was nothing but comfortable trust.

"Hold still, buddy..." The human's gruff voice rung out over dulled sensors. "You're doing well... just hold still for me..." They praised softly, lightly patting their metallic side in a comfort like one may do to a beloved dog.

"Can't believe anyone would let you run like this... I'm so sorry you've gotten treated like this, bud." They sighed, pausing for a moment to stare sadly into the camera lenses, which twitched to look at them. They flashed the android a forced smile. "Hey, you'll be alright. I'm gonna make sure of it, alright buddy? C'mon now." They gently reached out, stroking the side of its face with the back of their hand. "Yeah. You're alright. You'll be alright, you're all good." They smiled, believing their own words as they said them.

#whump prompt #nonhuman whumpee #robot whumpee #android whumpee #android whump #robot whump #whump #this ones a comfort

[whumpwillow]

recently been thinking about robot whumpee used as a part of a space ship to make it function / used as a nav system / etc. and its exhausting the robot with how they are constantly powered on and doing all this stuff against their will and can’t even move because they’re hooked up to the ship and the humans had ripped open their chest compartment or the back of their head to tamper with the wires and settings and the robot making static noises which is their version of screaming in pain but none of the humans understand that the robot even feels pain or is awake and aware in the first place and aren’t actively trying to hurt it they just don’t know or care enough to find out

#this is so rambly but i have Thoughts #whump #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump tropes #whumpee #robot whump #robot whumpee #android whumpee #android whump #whump scenario #whump scenes #whump scenarios

[a-crumb-of-whump]

#whump #whump stuff #whump things #whump thoughts #whump tropes #android whump #robot whump #milo's polls

[whumperz-paradise-old]

heehee my writing is so funny and silly and wholesome and

_afflicts a robot with eldritch madness because it was built in the image of a god_

cute and family friendly and sweet and

_creates a character made to rival a god_

nice and fluffy and soft and adorable and

_creates a character tormented by utter comprehension_

#whump #robot whumpee #android whump #eldritch whump #eldritch madness

[a-whumped-tea]

Robotic Whumpee has a vast knowledge of different ways of communication - different spoken languages, mores code, sign language, etc - and frantically switches through them in order to beg for the mercy of a complete stranger in a language they understand.

#robot whump #robot whumpee #android whump #android whumpee #whump writing #whumpee #whump community #whump scenario #whump #whump prompt #whump ideas #whumper #captivity whump #a whumped tea #bad caretaker #caretaker