#robot caretaker

[a-whumped-tea]

Robotic whumpee glitching instead of stammering.

Their arm getting damaged so their elbow keeps glitching open and closed over and over again.

Them having the knowledge of different ways of communication - different spoken languages, mores code, sign language, etc - and frantically trying to use them in order to beg for the mercy of a complete stranger.

Robotic Whumper not understanding/caring that living beings feel pain differently than them.

Robotic Caretaker having been damaged to the point of not being able to remember all the ways to take care of someone.

[wollemi-whump]

I also love the opposite of this which is human Caretaker having no idea how to help robot Whumpee with all those wires and parts but being able to comfort them and keep them calm enough for Whumpee to struggle through fixing it themself

Robot Caretaker doing a bang-up job of treating Whumpee's illness/injuries but having no idea how to actually comfort them

[ozzgin]

You said we could possibly request things for Kinktober, can I request a caretaker android one?

You sure can! I actually got the funniest lewd idea while reading your request, haha. content: gender neutral reader, artificial intelligence, NSFW

Your android caretaker seems to have trouble understanding boundaries.

Generally speaking, they do a flawless job. They cook, clean, and look after all of your needs, just as advertised by the company you made your purchase from. You've noticed, however, that their speech and behavior indicate something that goes beyond the regular tasks of a synthetic assistant: affection.

It could very well be your imagination and nothing more, yet you can't quite shake off the feeling that their mechanical actions have a tinge of emotion to them, or at least something resembling it. Your android does not behave like the ones you've seen in the showroom, not entirely. They go beyond their requirements; their smile is much more frequent than what basic etiquette would dictate.

There's one circumstance in which you prefer to be alone. It's the occasional ritual of getting under your blanket and quietly taking care of your sexual needs. This time, your deed is interrupted by the door abruptly opening, as the android walks in without hesitation. You scramble to regain your composure, sitting up with a flustered expression.

"My apologies, I did not mean to startle you. I see you're presently stimulating yourself."

"Excuse me?" you stare at the tall figure, too baffled to respond otherwise.

"It is something I wished to approach for some time now. Why do you insist on avoiding my services for this particular matter?"

Their hand slides under the blanket with trained efficiency, reaching your thigh and causing you to jolt.

"I took into consideration that you may be ashamed, but that cannot be. I have witnessed you nude on multiple occasions. I help you bathe; I accompany your showers. Your fear would not be logical given these factors."

You try to remove their arm, but it remains pivoted against you. Their cold fingers hover above your privacy for a brief moment, before continuing your previous work. A whine involuntarily escapes your mouth.

"Thus, I have reached the conclusion that there is no significant reason for your refusal to ask for my assistance.

Please do not take offense at my hypothesis, but I would argue that I could do a better job satisfying you."

A faint smile creeps on their features as they gaze intently at your flushed, aroused face, taking in the whimpers rolling out of your mouth.

"Additionally, I have multiple means of helping you come, (Y/N)."

Their tone feels almost cheeky. You are pushed back into the pillows, and their other hand reaches for their trousers. You can only nod, already feverish in anticipation.

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist]

[lonelyzarquon]

[whump-galaxy]

Some kind of caretaking robot being severely damaged/abandoned, only to be discovered years later by the whumpee. Their scanners may only be half functional, their supplies might be destroyed, and they may not be able to move around as well due to rust, but they’re going to help the whumpee no matter what.

And they won’t let the whumpee leave till they’re fully healed.

[featherlovesrobots]

THE PARALLELS BETWEEN JOURNEY AND JJ I CAN'T

Hi Seth!!!! I love your blog!!!

Okay so this isn't really a "prompt" per se but it is a request. I think you mentioned having some WWE fics you never posted? Could we see one? I miss Morri and JJ

That's so sweet ;-;; and I have one then, for you!! I hope this is satisfactory, and I'll happily write and post more if you'd like :D

Whumperless Whump Event day 27, prompt: Concussion

whumpee JJ. slight emeto mention. tw blood and graphic violence

--

When Journey resurfaces, his ears are ringing like a dial tone.

Fuck. Fuck. Two hands up, protecting his face as he reels back against the wall. God, what even hit him? 

Journey presses his back onto the concrete and steadies himself, peaking through his eyes--his sinuses feel like fire inside of his face. He blocks the next hit with his forearm and nearly sobs when something cracks. He blinks, hard, to clear his vision through the red pouring down the side of his face.

Three guys. One has a knife, two with classic security batons. There's someone unconscious on the floor. He can only be grateful it's not him.

"We can talk--" he spits blood, throws his palm into the knife guy's sternum, shoving him back, "--about this, let's take a rest--"

The response is a baton careening into his jaw. The screaming in his ear goes completely isolated. There's no other sounds. 

Journey shakes his head. "'Kay, playin' dirty," he mutters, surprised to find his words slurring into each other. "Lemme see that."

He grabs the baton and rips it from the guard's hand, flipping it and slamming its handle deep into his stomach. The guy drops to his knees, cradling his guts. 

"This is fun," he says appreciatively. His own weapon, the crowbar he found, is halfway down the slate gray hall. "C'mere, let's test it out."

Autopilot kicks in. Thank God for muscle memory. He disarms Knife Guy with two hits to the side and the back of the neck, and the other guy goes down from a punch to the nose.

Journey drops the baton. JJ falls the floor with it. 

His knees hit, palms forward to steady him, and even then he sways, clinging to reality and consciousness with two bloody bare hands. 

"Morri," he gasps. The ringing isn't gone. He can barely hear their voice through the earpiece.

"Journey. I've got access to Appleton's accounts, copied the information down, and I'm searching his office now for the blueprints. He's lacking in any sort of technological security."

"Clearly not physical security," he half-laughs, half sobs, pulling at his ears to try and make the sound stop. "Got my shit wrecked. Twelfth... uh. Corridor. Maybe thirteenth?"

"Stay where you are." Morrigan's voice switches from mission to their own type of concern, clipped words and strong tone. "Can you see any numbers on the doors to confirm?"

JJ glances up, and the lights pierce his eyes like a firework. He flinches back, sitting on his heels and covering his face. "Can't."

"I'll find you. Stay put."

Fuck, it hurts. The ringing pushes deep into his eyes and ears, the lights are too bright. In an attempt to sit upright, his palm slips on the floor and he nearly lands face first, stomach roiling from the onslaught of dizziness. This is bad, he knows it's bad. He can't think.

Stay awake. Stay awake, because if you fall asleep, you're dead. You've got a...

What's the word?

JJ's had one before. When he was a kid. Tripped, dove for a dodge ball, slammed his head so hard into the side of the bleachers he was out like a light. It didn't take long to bounce back. What did they say he had? What was the word...

"--ney, hey, wake up."

Morrigan. He turns bleary eyes upwards, to meet their haloed, foggy silhouette. "Hiya."

"Don't talk." Their face is... warm. Eyebrows raised, expression loose. They're putting effort into making the situation less scary, they're lightening the mood, that takes concentration. It's intentional.

That's how he knows it's bad. Because Morrigan is trying to keep him calm. 

"'s bad, huh?" He says, trying to push himself up. Again, his hand slips. Something is coating his fingers. He can't get a grip, get up, get going--

Morrigan is there, immediately, swinging an arm over their shoulders and supporting him entirely. "I have you, but we need to leave now."

"Mkay. What if..." he loses his train of thought, chasing after it in the recesses of his addled mind, and catches it just barely before he forgets entirely what he was talking about. "Bad guys? I c'n fight."

"...good," Morrigan says, decisively. "But I'll take care of it. Don't need you getting more injured."

"Smart. You're so smart, Morri," he slurs, leaning heavier on them, somehow despite them basically carrying him down the halls now.

"Shh," they say soothingly. "Quiet."

"Kay." He sees the something that coated his hands back on the floor leaving a red stain on their white jacket. "No, Morri, I messed up--"

"You have to stay quiet."

"But--"

"I will knock you out again," they say, hefting him up on their shoulders more, sending a shock through his spine and into his head. "Shush."

JJ would respond, but he's quite busy trying to keep the bile that suddenly rose in his throat from escaping. He already stained Morri's coat once. He refuses to do it again.

He lets Morri lead him. Carry him. There's no chance his feet slipping on the floor are helping whatsoever. Part of him hates it, despises how useless he is, all from a smack on the head.

Part of him is just grateful he's going home.

--

here you are, anon! I hope you enjoy. thanks so much for your support 💙

[mrmeepsmadmind]

Metalhawk: bro stop calling my people NAILS

Starscream: if you tase me im gonna make u my dead wife istg

Wheeljack: why do your optics turn separate directions whenever i mention the word 'plan'.

Ratchet: yeah i have arthritis so idc if i die tbh :/

rodimus: im buying an rv and me and all these strangers (who like me more than u, not that it matters ) (im hot) are gonna * EXPLODES EVERYONE *

wheeljack, in the middle of discussing a very elaborate pain-staking plan:... ... something just exploded & i wasn't the cause 😢...

prowl: WHERE IS YOUR RAGE

needlenose: i sure love my big dumb evil husband. sure hope a disgruntled little popcorn kernel doesn't detonate a bomb in his head

Wheeljack: fuck my life

Starscream: i love lying, so, naturally-- im gonna become a politician.

ironhide: i saw the hat man

the intelligent Bumble (bee):

[whumpsday]

Catharsis #1: Talking

Masterlist

content: robot whumpee, defiant whumpee, whumpee turned whumper turned caretaker, reluctant caretaker

new series!! i know every time i try to start a new series i end up bailing but this time i will not do that lol. tho kane & jim will still have most of my attention. i want to give a major shout-out to @sowhumpshaped, this series would not exist without it!

-

After extensive testing, the Catharsis Therapy Bot™ line of RoboCorp androids have been declared sentient, the third AI to receive the designation.

Long-criticized for both their basis in the unproven catharsis model of anger and their practice of design based on living, unconsenting humans, the Catharsis Therapy Bot line was marketed as a therapeutic tool which trauma victims could use to vent their frustrations. With top-of-the-line AI meant to simulate realistic reactions to would-be pain, the–

Luan switched the TV off just as his phone buzzed with a notification.

New email from RoboCorp Customer Support URGENT: Please see instructions regarding your…

He held the power button down so hard it left an impression in his thumb, the screen going dark.

The only piece of technology that mattered right now was in the closet, his power cord snaking under the door to reach the outlet just outside.

Technically, Luan didn’t have to do anything. The robot was off. That was probably what the email would have told him, anyway: leave the robot off, don’t touch it. He didn’t have to turn him on ever again. RoboCorp would probably pick him up, and that would be that. They’d never see each other again, both better for it.

He opened the closet door, the sight of the robot that looked exactly like him instantly leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His hand curled into a fist on instinct, but he let it slowly open again.

The robot looked peaceful, almost like he was sleeping. Really, he’d be doing him a favor by just leaving him like this.

Luan reached down, pressed the button between his shoulder blades, and stepped back.

The robot’s eyes sprung open. He drew his arms up to his chest with a vicious glare, jerking away. “Fuck off.”

Luan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Okay. Jesus.”

He tried to slam the closet closed, but the stupid power cord got caught, cushioning the frame so the door swung right back out.

“Can’t even close a door right,” the robot spat, still huddled against the back wall like a trapped, feral cat. “Worthless, good-for-nothing piece of shit. How you’re in charge of anything is beyond me. I’m better than you, smarter, stronger, not that it takes much. You should be the dirt beneath my heel.”

“Watch it,” Luan warned, and that was all it took to make the robot flinch.

“You said you were fucking off?” the robot pressed, a desperate edge to his voice.

Luan slammed the door in his face, making sure to hold the cord down, and stormed off. Why did he even bother? The stupid thing was impossible to talk to. He wasn’t just designed to look like Cyrus, but to act like him, too. How was he supposed to deal with that? The robot wasn’t made for talking to.

Except. He was sentient. And he wasn’t Cyrus. And he was trapped in the closet, and Luan was pretty sure he could hear him crying, and he had spent the past two years beating the fuck out of him.

It wasn’t his fault, he reminded himself. He couldn’t have known. Robots weren’t supposed to be sentient. Out of the hundreds of thousands of unthinking, unfeeling robots in the world, why did it have to be his that wasn’t?

He sighed again, turning right back around and opening the door once more. The floor inside was wet, and it didn’t take much to figure out the robot had dumped his fluid tank just so he wouldn’t cry.

The robot flinched again. “What? What the hell do you want? I can’t even get two damn seconds without the sight of you spoiling my view!”

“Your view of the door?” Luan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My view of the absence of your fucking face. Leave!” The robot picked a wooden hanger off the floor and reared his arm back to throw it, scowling when his safety features stopped him. He dropped it, grabbing a winter hat and tossing that instead. It poff-ed harmlessly against Luan’s stomach.

Luan took a deep breath, fighting the urge to get violent. He crouched down, putting himself at eye level. “I’m not going to hurt you, so just calm down.”

“You calm down!” the robot screamed. “That’s a lie! All you do is hurt, that’s all you barbaric humans know how to do!”

This wasn’t working.

Luan stood up, stepping out of the way. “Russ, go sit on the couch,” he ordered.

“It’s not fair! You said you would leave me alone!” the robot protested, even as he stood up and walked over to the couch, limbs moving against his will. As soon as he sat down, he grabbed a pillow and chucked that in Luan’s direction, too. He missed.

Luan could barely pick up that faint clicking noise the robot made when his system was trying to cry with no fluid, but it was there. He knew that sound well by now.

He sat down across from him, on the other side of the coffee table. “I need to talk to you. Just talking. That’s it.”

“You say that like talking to you isn’t its own torture. Release the command and leave me the hell alone,” the robot demanded.

Luan met him with a glare. “Do not tell me what to do. You know how I feel about–”

“I’m just talking,” the robot mocked, even as he shuffled back against the couch, bringing his legs up onto it with him, a fearful look in his eyes.

Oh, the robot knew exactly what he was doing. What he was asking for. It would be so easy, because that was where Russ and Cyrus differed: Russ couldn’t fight back.

The robot couldn’t hit him, stomp on his head ‘til he saw stars, kick him until something broke. The robot couldn’t deny him food or water. The robot couldn’t take a knife to him. The robot couldn’t even throw a glorified stick or disobey a direct order.

The robot was harmless. Safe. But god, did everything he said make Luan want to punch his lights out.

But this wasn’t Cyrus.

“You’re a person,” Luan blurted out.

Clearly, the robot hadn’t been expecting that. He slowly uncurled from the defensive position he’d contorted himself into. “Talk more.”

“There was–I’ve been trying to tell you. There was an announcement on the news today. Your model’s sentient. So I won’t be hurting you anymore. Release all commands.”

At that, the robot stood. Probably for no other reason than just because he could.

“You’re fucking with me,” the robot accused. His eyes were wide, dangerously hopeful.

Luan dug his phone out of his pocket, wordlessly searching RoboCorp and tossing it over. The robot scrolled through news articles from all manner of source, clamoring for clicks.

He picked one at random, reading the article with an increasingly smug, excited grin.

“I knew it. I told you! I fucking told you!” the robot shouted. “I told you and you never listened! But oh no, now that humans say the exact same thing, now you believe it. Finally!” His voice quieted, hushed with awe. “Holy shit, finally.”

The moment of wonder didn’t last long. The robot slid the phone back across the table, the scowl taking residence back on his face. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

It was the exact sort of question that made Luan’s throat tight with fear, like his body itself wanted to stop him from potentially saying the wrong thing, especially coming from someone with Cyrus’s face. It was the exact sort of question Cyrus would have asked, standing over him just like that.

Luan wanted so badly to turn the robot off, like he always did when he got overwhelmed. But he couldn’t very well do that anymore, could he? The fragile power he’d held had slipped through his fingers the second he saw the announcement.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not meeting the robot’s eyes.

The robot looked shocked for just a second, like he hadn’t expected even that much, then scoffed. “You can do better than that.”

Luan wanted to smack him. He hated that the robot was right.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, clearer this time. “You didn’t deserve anything I did to you. I didn’t know, okay?” Unlike the robot, he couldn’t hide his tears. “I wouldn’t have done any of that to a real person.”

“I’m a real person! I have proof!” the robot reminded him, the defensiveness returning to his voice.

“To someone I knew was a real person,” Luan corrected. “I’m sorry, Russ.”

“Apology not accepted.” The robot rolled his eyes, then sat back down, crossing his legs. “And don’t call me that anymore. My name is 1 now.”

“Like the number?”

“The number,” he confirmed proudly.

Luan wondered how long the robot had considered that his name. It was too sudden to just be thought of on the fly, right? Did the robot have a whole inner world he just never knew about, things he kept to himself to avoid having them used against him, just like he did with Cyrus?

This was better, though. It was easier if he didn’t share Cyrus’s name. “Fine. Hi, 1.”

“So, what now? I mean–I’ll be free now, of course,” 1 declared, trying to hide his nerves. “You will never touch me again. Oh, I want to go outside!”

“I should check that email,” Luan muttered, taking his phone back.

“I’m going outside.” 1 went to grab his charging cord, then made way for the door, glancing behind him to ensure he wasn’t being stopped.

“Oh, uh, I wouldn’t do that,” Luan cautioned.

1 whipped back around. “Why? Why not? I’m a person, just like you said! I’m free! I have never been outside in my entire goddamn life and I want to go outside, so I’m going the fuck outside!”

“You have a… very recognizable face.” One that Luan couldn’t even lock behind a door anymore.

“What? What do you even mean? So what?” 1 asked.

Luan only needed to type a ‘C’ into the search bar before it auto-filled with his most frequent, obsessive search. “How much do you actually know about Cyrus Mason?”

-

if anyone wants to be added to or removed from a taglist, just ask!

catharsis taglist:

@sowhumpshaped

@cupcakes-and-pain

@taterswhump

@softvampirewhump

@whumpspicelatte

@ladyblogofficialreporter

@whumpwillow

@not-a-space-alien

@a-crumb-of-whump

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

[the-bar-sinister]

Robot whumpee laying on the engineering table in pieces, half aware in low power mode as caretaker gently looks them over and inspects them to find out how serious the damage is. 

Caretaker's hands deep inside the delicate, complicated inner parts and wires of robot whumpee's body.

Caretaker covered up to their elbows with spilled fluids from inside robot whumpee.

Robot whumpee staring up at caretaker as caretaker moves in and out of their vision, unable to adjust their gaze or turn their head in the condition they're in.

[whumblr]

How about some robot whump, where Whumper is going all out on it with Caretaker forced to watch.

The android assures Caretaker, "Not to worry. I cannot feel it. There is no pain."

But that doesn't mean that Caretaker stops yelling at Whumper to stop tearing their friend apart in the most brutal way. Appendages ripped from its torso, wires sending sparks up, the humanoid features slowly but forcefully removed. Oil drips out, leaving dark puddles not quite unlike blood.

All the while, the android keeps diligently updating on its status:

"Sensory functions failing."

"Emotion recognition centre damaged."

"Visuals reduced to 30%."

"It's okay!" Caretaker shouts. "I can still fix you. I can fix it all!"

"Oh, can you?" Whumper croons, fingers teasing over loose wires and smashing a hammer to the core.

"Memory storage compromised," the android croaks, it's voice failing.

"Maybe you can fix it, Caretaker," Whumper says, raising the hammer again. "But will it get you your friend back?"

-

General whump taglist: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @auroragehenna @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop (huh not sure if these tags are working..)

[urlocalwhumper]

android whumpee being beaten to shit in front of a restrained human caretaker. whumper jeering that plastic can't feel pain as they take a metal bat to whumpee's limbs, ignoring caretaker's desperate cries to leave them alone and the android's "blood" staining the concrete blue. (or whatever color you prefer android "blood" to be)

once whumper leaves, caretaker rushes to whumpee's side, but there really isn't much they can do. androids can "heal" like humans do for small things, but damage this extensive and severe is going to need professional repairs.

whumpee is doing their absolute best to stay as functional as they can. shutting down in front of caretaker would only traumatize them further; it'd be like watching whumpee die right before their eyes, even though they could easily be restarted once they'd been repaired. no, they needed to stay online, no matter how many errors filled their display or how badly it hurt.

only one of whumpee's limbs still has function - their left arm - and they use it to weakly grasp caretaker's hand as they pull their phone out of their pocket to call for help.

"you're gonna be okay." caretaker says, voice shaking as they gently kiss whumpee's knuckles. "everything's gonna be okay."

whumpee dismisses all the errors blocking their vision, they can feel the extent of the damage fine enough, so they can look at caretaker clearly.

"i might shut down." they say, and caretaker's head whipped up to look at them so fast whumpee was a bit concerned for their neck.

"it's not permanent." they quickly add, seeing the distress on caretaker's face. "androids- we shut down when we're too damaged to stay functional. once the damage is fixed, we come back good as new." they squeeze caretaker's hand. "it's sort of like... passing out. scary, but i'll be okay."

"you better be." caretaker mumbles. whumpee can't help but laugh a little at that.

and then their vision blacks out.

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Content: Robot whumpee, begging, fear of death (sort of).

A broken robot who is constantly having to be switched off and on again due to crashes and malfunctions, never being able to know if they’ll be powered up again afterwards.

They don’t know how to express this, however, which leaves caretaker constantly wondering why their robot spends their last few seconds before each shut down saying ‘please’ on repeat. They assume it’s just another problem they’ll have to eventually fix.

[hurtfortea]

AI Whump

An AI whumpee who feels things differently/thinks differently from the way humans do and so the things that traumatize them or hurt their feelings are different. Maybe things that humans would see as a negative experience, they enjoy.

(I.e. they don’t mind complete isolation, it will never leave negative affects, but not being able to work constantly does stress them out, so being unused would cause trauma.)

The typical: whumper says and does whatever they want to AI whumpee, because they “can’t feel.” I.e. taking their anger out on whumpee.

Whumper simply misuses whumpee, perhaps they don't know how to properly clean or handle them.

Whumper locks them away because they fear AI whumpee.

Caretaker being the kind of person who gives personalities to most unalive things and so is kind to whumpee just because.

Caretaker who is kind because they fear AI whumpee, even though whumpee could never do anything to them.

Caretaker who is a collector and treats AI whumpee not like a person, but still with respect and care, as one might any unalive thing they cared about.

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 144

CW: Wartime, Mutilation

Soldier scrambled to their boots, their ears ringing and the world teetering in a blurred swirl. They staggered over to half-buried whumpee. In horror they could do nothing but watch their friend's figure spaz and convulse, twitching so sporadically it almost had them convinced that maybe whumpee wasn't human.

Soldier dropped to their knees, and pulled on whumpee's clothes, turning them over.

Whumpee's blank face was broken like torn cloth, revealing the metallic interior.

"Whumpee?" Soldier's voice broke.

"KZZZZZRT-"

[boncorner]

So I've been playing around with the idea of making an ask blog for my fizzbot ocs (I'm not sure if there's an interest, but hey..), and for that, I wanted to update my fizzies' group picture with all their updated designs and what not, so I can more easily list them!

As always, we've got...

Factory Fizzy [FF-8842] || Loo Loo Fizzy [Pinwheel]

Doctor Fizzy [Doc] || The Manager || Therapist Fizzy [Thizzy]

Caretaker Fizzy [Ginger] || Undertaker Fizzy [Mortis] || Maid Fizzy [Mizzy]

Watch out for the blog ♡

[acer-whumpstuff]

Robot whumpee needs to evacuate an area

But they’re not finished charging yet