#Stumbling

[letthewhumpbegin]

John Wick: Chapter 4 (2023)

[where-is-my-whump]

Hudson and Rex 6x07

[aceofwhump]

Fright Night (2011)

[just-whump-and-suffering]

Hakubo no Chronicle Ep 06

[dress-this-way]

~ Eight Biblical Tests for Decision Making ~

[whumpetywhump]

3 Will Be Free - Ep. 9

[simply-whump]

In Blossom : Episode 29

>> Whump List

[momentsbeforemass]

Perfect

In the parable of the wedding feast (today’s Gospel), the invited guests refuse to come. So the host opens the feast to anyone (“Go out into the main roads and invite whomever you find”).

One of the people who responds isn’t properly dressed. So he gets thrown out. 

Wait. What?

You invited people off the streets. And then you’re mad because one of the “whomever you find” folks wasn’t walking around in formal wear? How does that sense?

Let’s unpack the parable. The host? That’s God. The invitation? It’s the invitation that God extends to each of us. To be saved, to be who He made us to be, to come Home.

And the wedding garment? It’s our response to God’s invitation.

If we want to accept God’s invitation – to be saved, to be who He made us to be, to come Home – then we have to respond.

Does that mean that we have to earn it? Does that mean we’ve got to do the right things and say the right things, so that we can be good enough to not get thrown out?

Not in the least. This isn’t about perfect performance. But we do have to respond.

So what are we supposed to do? It’s in today’s Psalm.

Here’s what God is looking for in a response from you and me – “a contrite spirit, a heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn.”

Not a heart that’s perfect. Not someone who has it all figured out.

But a heart that’s trying. A heart that’s taking that first stumbling step towards God.

Don’t wait until you think you’ve got it all figured out before you turn your heart towards God (reality check – no one ever does get it all figured out). And God loves you too much to wait.

Turn your heart towards God as you are. Now.

Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. God doesn’t.

Today’s Readings

[just-here-for-the-whump]

@whumpgifathon | Day 19 Alt prompt: Heat Exhaustion

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine 2x15 Paradise

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 7

“What happened?” / Nightmare / Isolation / Stumbling

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 300

Tag List:@juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf

CW: nightmare, isolation, darkness referenced captivity, chains, hallucinations, panic attack, stumbling, questioning reality

A/N: First week done! 🎉

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It was dark.

Dark. And cold.

Whumpee shivered and curled into a ball, the chains around their wrists and ankles clinking and clattering on the stone ground.

Alone.

Trapped.

No one to hear, no one to speak to, no one, no one, no one….

The silence and the darkness pressed in on them, a suffocating, choking blanket that threatened to snuff out all conscious thought.

Silence.

Darkness.

The cold, hard floor.

The metal chains.

Pulsing headaches from lack of food and water.

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

Whumpee snapped awake, gasping, a tangled mess in their blankets. Their breathing came in ragged gasps, and when they finally threw off the blankets, they found them soaked from sweat. The familiar burning sensation in their nose appeared, and Whumpee angrily swiped at the tears that began to drip… drip… drip down their face.

The darkness in their bedroom swirled with imaginary shapes. The outline of the cold cell. The chains on the floor. Whumper’s face….

Whumpee rose and stumbled across the room, tripping over their blankets and nearly slamming face-first into the wall before they caught themself. Their fingers scrabbled over the wall, their panic rising by the second until… thankfully… they found the light switch.

Just their bedroom. They were no longer in the cell.

They were safe.

Whumpee slowly sank to the floor, back against the wall, tears still flowing down their face. They hugged their knees to their chest, staring blankly at the floor.

Safe.

It was remarkable how easy it was to remember that simple word, yet so difficult to actually believe it. As if some small part of Whumpee thought that the bedroom was the dream and the chill, dank cell the reality.

No. This is real. I am safe.

If only their subconscious could believe that was true.

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whumpuary #3: Used as bait / Stumbling / "This is gonna hurt" + #4: "Help me" / Lightheaded / Kneeling

CW: Chase, overexertion, failed escape, manhandling

Whumpee ran through the underbrush, desperately pushing their aching and weakened body to keep going. They couldn’t rest yet.

Whumper was on their tail. Whumpee had a head start, but they weren’t sure how big it was. All they knew was that this was their chance to get away, and they weren’t likely to get another one anytime soon.

Underbrush hit at Whumpee’s legs as they dashed through it. They paid no heed to the sting and pushed on. They panted for breath, their blood pounding in their ears as their feet pounded on the ground. Still they ran. There would be no respite until they were out of Whumper’s reach.

They tripped on a half-exposed root and nearly lost their footing. They managed to keep from falling, and regained their pace.

Whumpee kept running. After a while, they realized they were flagging and sped up again. They couldn’t afford to slow down. Whumper knew this area; they lived in it. Staying ahead was Whumpee’s only advantage.

It didn’t take long before their stride became less steady. They were pushing themself too hard. They grimaced and kept going anyway; they didn’t have a choice.

Their lungs burned and their legs became unstable as they battled with fatigue. Whumpee stumbled, then scraped their hand as they caught themself. It was so tempting to just stay there and rest a moment, but they didn’t have the time. They pushed off of a tree and forced themself onward.

Not long after, they were stumbling again. They lost their footing, well and truly this time, and fell to the ground. They painstakingly stood back up with a groan. As they leaned against a tree, bracing themself to keep going, they heard a sound behind them that definitely wasn’t from the local wildlife.

“Whumpee.”

No. Dread washed through them. They already knew whose voice it was, but Whumpee still turned to look as Whumper emerged from the trees. They were breathing hard, too, but not as hard as Whumpee. It made sense: Whumper was healthier and knew the terrain. The logic didn’t make it any less disheartening, though.

The chase was over. Whumpee was in no condition to get away from Whumper now that they’d caught up. Whumpee looked out into the trees, for a moment entertaining the idea of running anyways, before slumping in defeat. Their knees hit the dirt almost before they knew what they were doing.

The show of submission might earn them a modicum of lenience. Not much, but Whumpee was willing to take any chance to make their impending situation slightly less awful.

Whumper fixed them with a stony glare, looking very displeased. Whumpee cringed and broke eye contact.

“You are in a whole lot of trouble.” Whumper walked over to where Whumpee was kneeling and roughly pulled them to their feet. Whumper held Whumpee in a vice-like grip, fingers digging into them.

Whumpee didn’t say anything back. They knew it would be pointless to ask for mercy.

Whumper kept Whumpee in a painful hold all the way back to Whumper’s house. Back to everything Whumpee had hoped to escape from. Hot tears welled in their eyes as freedom slipped further out of reach.

[letthewhumpbegin]

The Boys, s3e6

[iwritewhump]

"take me with you" + stumbling + too weak to move

day 21 of @whumptember

692 words

warnings: captive whumpee, signs of abuse, neglected whumpee

---

Hero’s house is cold and dark, keeping Villain on edge as he sneaks down the basement hallway. He pushes open a door and peeks past the door frame. 

Hero sleeps soundly in her bed, blanket drawn up to her chin and a calm expression on her face. Villain rolls his eyes and closes the door again, making sure he doesn’t make a sound. 

He moves down the hallway and pushes open another door, frowning when the light from the moon reflects off a toilet. He sighs and starts to close the door again, but stops when he sees a thick chain across the floor. 

Cautiously, he opens the door enough to walk into the room. He closes the door behind him and turns his flashlight on, shining it through his fingers to dim the light as much as he can. Following the chain, he looks behind the shower curtain and nearly gags. 

Curled up in a small ball, Henchman stares up at him. The chain is latched to a cuff on her ankle and the skin is rubbed raw. She whimpers and tries to curl more into herself, the chain rattling noisily against the marble tile. 

Villain shakes his head and squats down in front of her, “I’m not gonna hurt you, but you need to stop moving. You’ll wake Hero up.” 

“No, no, no,” she murmurs, staring blankly at him. “I didn’t know, you have to-you have to trust me. I didn’t know.” 

He reaches out to wipe the tears from her face, but stops when she tenses and closes her eyes, “Know what?” he asks gently, “What didn’t you know?” 

She doesn’t answer. 

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head to clear it, then looks at his watch. “Shit,” he mutters. He stands up and looks back at Henchman, eyes lingering on the bruises littering her skin. “I’m running out of time.” 

“No,” she begs, reaching out to him, “Take me with you.” 

“I will, I just…have to get something first, ok? I’ll be right back. Don’t make a sound, Hero needs to stay sleeping.” he whispers. 

He turns the flashlight off and opens the door again, leaving it open enough so he doesn't have to turn the handle to get back in. 

The next room is locked, Villain curses and kneels in front of the handle and picks the lock as quickly and quietly as he knows how, just loud enough to make it take twice as long with him stopping after every click and scratch. 

Suddenly, the lock clicks open and Villain coaxes the door open, wincing as it creaks. Once it’s open enough for Villain to slip past, he walks into the room and turns on the computer and plugs the flash drive in. After an absurdly long thirty seconds, the computer beeps and Villain pockets the flash drive. 

He leaves the room and pushes back into the bathroom, barely waiting for Henchman to open her eyes again before grabbing her ankle and finding the lock. She winces and tries to pull her leg back, but even with the loose grip he has on her, she’s too weak. He swiftly picks the lock and lets the cuff clatter onto the marble before taking Henchman’s arm and helping her stand. 

She falls, hands gripping Villain’s shirt to keep standing. He mutters quietly and wraps an arm around her waist, ignoring her grunt of pain when he presses his hand into a scab. Her cheeks puff out from her trying to keep quiet and she buckles over in pain. 

“I…I don’t think I can walk,” she whispers. 

Without a word, Villain puts his other arm behind her knees and lifts her up. He runs out of the bathroom, not worrying about the noise. Up the stairs and out the front door before Hero’s nightside lamp turns on, Villain huffs with effort to put Henchman in the car without jostling her anymore than he already has. She stays quiet, only making a noise when he’s too rough. 

He mutters apologies and closes the door, then jumps into the driver seat and speeds away just as Hero’s door opens.

[aceofwhump]

Avatar the Last Airbender (2024) 1x06 "Masks"

[not-your-housekeeper98]

Whumptober Day 27

Stumbling

Criminal Minds Season 4 Episode 1

[blackrosesandwhump]

Nathaniel's Bane, Part 4

June of Doom Day 7: “What happened?” | Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling

June of Doom Day 19: “This can’t be happening!” | Sobbing | Straitjacket | Dissociation

CW: drowning, nightmare, self-harm, gothic illness

Black water laps at the edges of Nathaniel’s face, threatening to submerge him completely. His limbs feel like lead, numb and useless as a statue’s. He tries to move, tries to raise himself from the treacherous waves, but his body doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to a dead boy.

Please, no…this can’t be…this can’t be happening--

Terror grips him in an inescapable vise. He manages to take a breath just as the water closes over his face. Sand shifts and drops away under him, giving way to—nothing. An endless deep. A watery tomb that sucks him down.

Weight. A terrible weight in his chest. The stone. The stone is pulling him downward, paralyzing his body. He has to get it out.

In the black water, Nathaniel claws at his chest. His body finally obeys, but the realization vanishes in his desperation. He has to get it out, or he’ll drown. Thrashing, frantic with fear, his nails dig into his own skin. In vain. The stone is deeply anchored, part of his body. Blood stains the water. Nothing. It pulls him deeper, deeper, away from air and light, away from the figure poised at the edge of the water, watching him die. Familiar. The figure feels familiar.

The boy screams, and the figure watches as he drowns—

The scream jolts Nathaniel awake. He bolts upright, damp with sweat, tangled miserably in his sheets. He screams again, but this time, it fizzles into a sob that bursts violently from him, wracking his body. The stone pulses with each sob, a small fist of pain close to his heart. He gasps for breath between cries, the sensation of drowning still fresh and nightmarish in his lungs.

His bedroom door creaks open abruptly. Elvie rushes in, framed in her nightgown against the dim light from the hallway.

“What happened?” she blurts, stumbling over her own feet. “You were screaming! Are you—” She stops as her brother’s sob breaks through the quiet.

He can’t help himself. Drowning. Pain. The stone, killing him slowly. The watcher, unwilling to help.

“Nightmare,” he manages to whisper. “I was…I was drowning. And the—the stone was making me die.” He wipes his face on the edge of the sheet, trying to ease his ragged breathing. Elvie says nothing, just reaches for the glass of water on the side table and helps him drink.

Gradually, as they sit in silence in the dark, his heartbeat slows, and with it, the stone’s throbbing. His sobs fade to hiccups, his panic to a sagging exhaustion. He sinks back into the pillows with a heavy sigh. His mind feels empty. Mostly.

I’ll do anything. Before…before it’s too late. I have to make that deal.

Because if I don’t—

“I wish I could help you.” Elvie’s stricken voice startles him. “I’m—I’m so sorry.” Her own eyes shine with fresh tears.

I should tell her.

“It’s okay,” Nathaniel says quietly, pushing the twisted covers back and stumbling out of bed. A fresh shirt. He needs something clean before he tries to sleep again. “I have a plan.”

@juneofdoom