#ambush whump

[whumpelstilts]

First they were attacked from behind, a swarm of attackers lunging at them from the shadows. Their arms wrenched behind their back until their shoulders creaked, the fragile crying out of bones and ligaments before they snap. They’re not expecting the quick punch to the solar plexus or how it steals the breath from their lungs. Before they can gasp for air, blunt punches rain down from every angle. Both cheeks catch different sets of knuckles at the same moment. Something crunches. Their head drops forward - trying to hide, trying to escape - and a fist bangs down on the crown of their head like with all the hesitation of someone banging on the breakfast table. A tight grip fists through their hair, tilting their face up towards the shadows, and the blow that comes leaves blood spilling from their mouth, their teeth, their numbless formless lips. Held tight by restraining arms, their soft underbelly is exposed to the assault of someone aiming over and over for the space below their ribs.

Someone changes tactics, looking for an unmarked spot, and when the punch hits their chest, a sharp ring pops through the skin. Then another, and another, until blood flattens the shirt to their heaving, panicked chest.

With lips swollen and their own iron on their tongue, they barely register the gag until it is far too late. The rough fabric slotted and pulled into place, stretching their jaw around the thick wad until it feels like they’ll suffocate. Tears flee down their cheeks, itchy and mingling at the corners of their stretched maw, slipping behind the gag to clog what little air they have left.

They only have a moment, a short gasp of relief, to revel that the blows have stopped.

The loud rip of tape.

Someone’s hand, wide and warm on their forehead, tilting them back so that another can carefully seal tape over the gag. Fingers digging against a swelling jaw. Cursing when they find moisture. A sleeve wiping their cheeks clean. Fingers again, carefully affixing the tape into place and making sure the corners are pressed down tight.

A bag slides over their head, replacing shadows with terrifying clarity of the senses. The rank smell of their own fear and sweat. The rippling spasms through their abdomen, muscles tensing and untensing as they fight against anticipated blows. The oppressive heat of bodies, so many bodies, crowding them from every side. Surrounded. Arms held captive with warning pressure pushing into the sockets of each shoulder. The hands on the front of their chest keeping them upright. Another set of hands on their hips, holding them in place or keeping them from sliding to the ground.

They jump as hands clasp around their head, palms flattened over their ears. A muffled discussion happens above them, and then the hands are pulled away and in their absence comes a familiar weight made foreign through the distance of the cloth.

Noise canceling headphones.

A switch flicks on and the world shifts into a mute.

The grip holding their arms back relaxes. Pins and needles rush in to greet the tips of their fingers, which wriggle of their volition like fish baited by the hook. Their arms shake with the effort of existing, and no sooner have they sensed freedom than they’re grabbed again, this time by the elbows, nearly lifted off their feet as they’re dragged forward forward, until they exit the alley, until the cold unencumbered wind kisses the new wet spots on their cheeks through the rough cloth bag. Until they’re pushed against something, the hard knock of something unmovable against their legs that sends them sprawling forward. Until their captors with their hard grips step inside, and the ground shakes under them, a vehicle creaking at the weight. Until their captors tug the helpless inside behind them. Until the door that slams shut is a whisper of air and the arrival of instinctive of knowing when the trap has sprung shut.

Until they’re sat, shivering, between two unknown masses who are blood warm with the weight of their violence. The heady promise of anticipation in the air that comes from knowing they will taste it again soon.

Until all they can do is shiver in revulsion at the heat.

Until sitting takes a taxing toll, leaves them shriveled up in pain and leaning against the same brutal bodies for support. Until one of them releases their elbow and, in the cruelest parody of gentleness, wraps their arm over their shoulder instead, encouraging them to rest.

Until all they can do is choke on their own gasping sobs, gagging when the intruder in their mouth won’t even grant them that much. Until they’re quiet; until they’re numb.

Until all they can do is wait.

[whump-in-the-coffee-cup]

Whumpfic in Progress I

Whumpfic in Progress is a series where I share my WIPs! They are mostly fandom-specific, but its still a whumpfic nonetheless <3

CONTENT WARNINGS: environment whump, unable to move, bleeding out, stranded

Akira had took a heavy hit for another Thief, though he couldn’t properly recall who it was. Before he was separated by a blizzard, summoned by the very shadow that ambushed them in the first place. He had crashed on some part of the cognitive world, alone and aching. The mix of electricity and, almost drug-like, psionic damage on his back kept him glued to the snow.

The blizzard was enough to mess with Oracle’s communication system. He was practically stranded, injured and bleeding out.

whumping the persona 5 protagonist for a change

[thatsgonnaleaveamark]

Slow Horses 4x02 (p1)

[whumpster-dumpster]

Whumper easing up the control over Whumpee's mind just long enough for their loved one(s) to think they've finally snapped out of it. Just long enough for Whumpee themself to hope they might somehow be free. Long enough for the others to risk getting closer, within reach for a betrayal attack

[whumpdaydreamerx]

Whumpee and Caretaker ambushed in their home. Caretaker tied to a chair as Whumpee is attacked. Maybe shot or stabbed before the Whumper and their men leave.

Whumpee left sprawled on the floor writhing in pain as they clutch their abdomen. Neck arching as their mouth falls open with a silent cry. Caretaker watching helplessly from their chair. Begging Whumpee to get up — try to untie them so Caretaker can tend to Whumpee.

Whumpee’s upside down vision of Caretaker blurring as they try their best to pull themself together and gather their strength.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee part 31

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, ambushed, a traitor in the midst, karma/revenge dealt, bleeding out, severed spinal cord

"I wonder why," Whumpee laughed bitterly. "But... I believe you. I can tell you're not lying." His eyes were dark and cruel. "...So I don't need you alive anymore."

Reed's eyes widened with terror. "Wait! D-Don't kill me, okay? We were on the same team! Even though I'm a traitor, don't you at least feel some attachment to your fellow soldier?" He sputtered, grasping for shreds of reason. As though that would spare him from Whumpee's wrath.

Whumpee shrugged impassively. "Not really," he answered simply. "But if you're so desperate for me not to kill you... I have a single question. It sounds like you would rather have any punishment over death, right?"

Reed's eyes flickered with hope, frantic for a lifeline. "Yes!" he immediately blurted. "Anything!"

Whumpee grinned viciously, teeth bared, and flipped Reed over onto his stomach before pinning him down again.

"W-What are you doing?!" Reed stammered.

"...'Anything', like you said," he answered coldly. Then he dug his serrated blade into Reed's back right above his shoulder blades, making him shriek in agony. Whumpee shoved the sharp blade in between two vertebrae, severing the spinal cord and instantly paralyzing him from the neck down.

Reed went limp beneath him, gasping raggedly, and he casually grabbed one of his wrists now that he couldn't move anymore.

"Wait... what are..." Reed's croaking voice turned into a sharp inhale as Whumpee careful slit his skin with the tip of his blade, intentionally nicking the wrist artery in a short spray of blood -- not completely severing it.

"Apologies, but I'm an eye-for-an-eye kind of person," Whumpee rumbled darkly. "You killed some of this team. So death is the only fitting punishment."

"N-No..." Reed choked out, watching with his eyes as Whumpee set his limp arm back down, angling his wrist so it was perfectly visible to him, blood rhythmically pulsing out of it with every terrified heartbeat. He was going to be forced to watch himself bleed out all over the floor, paralyzed and unable to tie a tourniquet around the injury. Whumpee had made this punishment intentional and calculated, only nicking the artery to slow the death down a little, draw it out as long as possible.

(Before anyone notes it, yes, I know my injuries, and I KNOW that someone who is paralyzed from neck down usually can't even breathe on their own, let alone speak -- but that's no fun, is it? So I bent the medical rules a little for Reed because I knew it would make the perfect death scene, so just roll with it guys LOL 😂)

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Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

[serickswrites]

It's meeeee, I am baaaaaaack!

And I have a request :D

Whumpee relaxing at home when some home invaders broke in, tied and gagged them, and threatened them to give up something valuable (an important item, money, whatever). Whumpee refuses them, to which they get tortured.

Then. Caretaker comes in to the scene, and gets grabbed too despite Whumpee's attempted warnings to run.

I look forward to seeing more of your writing :D

-- @whumperofworlds

Hello, my friend, @whumperofworlds! Sorry it took me ages to answer this. This is a series and is fully plotted for 5 parts, including this one. It will be published under the title 'The Strangers'.

Warnings: ambush, physical violence, head injury, restraints, gag, threat of torture, knife

Whumpee was exhausted. They wanted nothing more than to take a shower, crawl into bed, and sleep for a week. It had been a long work week and they were completely spent.

They dropped their keys as they went to open the door, groaning as they bent over to retrieve the fallen keys. Maybe they would have to soak in the tub instead of showering. A long soak with epsom salts, candles, and maybe even a drink. That sounded like the perfect way to start their evening.

"Fuck," they muttered as they remembered they had promised to host Caretaker for dinner later in the evening. They would have to text Caretaker to see if they could reschedule.

Whumpee shouldered open the door, pulling their phone out to text Caretaker. They slammed the door shut behind them. "Finally," a strange voice came from close to Whumpee's elbow. Whumpe froze. "You took a stupid amount of time to open the door, you know."

Whumpee turned slowly to see two masked strangers standing in the doorway to their kitchen. One cocked their head as they watched Whumpee while the other took a step towards Whumpee. Home invaders. Whumpee was being robbed. "What do you want?"

"Unlock your safe," the first stranger ordered, continuing to walk forward.

"No!" Whumpee said quickly. There wasn't much of value in the safe. More sentimental value than anything. But they didn't want the home invaders to take the contents either.

"Have it your way, then," the other stranger sneered and quickly grabbed Whumpee.

"Let me go!" Whumpee said as they pulled back and tried to get away.

"Knock it off!" The stranger said as they punched Whumpee in the cheek.

Whumpee stumbled and would have fallen if the stranger hadn't kept a grip on their arm. Their head swam as the other stranger came forward and took their other arm. The two of them dragged Whumpee to the kitchen. "This could have been avoided," the first stranger said as they dropped Whumpee's arm.

The second stranger threw Whumpee forward and Whumpee fell to their knees. They were unable to keep upright as the stranger kicked them in the back hard. They hissed with pain as they dropped. "Please, you can have anything else. Please. Just leave that."

The second stranger put a knee to Whumpee's spine and leaned their body weight on Whumpee as they grabbed Whumpee's wrists. Whumpee gasped with pain and struggled to breathe as the weight became heavier and heavier. "You don't have anything of value anywhere else. It's all in there. Open it and we won't have to hurt you."

Whumpee's heart was in their throat as they felt thick metal cuffs close around their wrists. They had to get out of here. "HELP!" They roared. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!" They screamed, hoping their neighbors heard them.

The first stranger knelt in front of Whumpee, grabbing Whumpee by the throat. "None of that. If you call for help, I will have Whumper Two here tie you to that chair and gag you. Then you're really in for a world of pain."

"Ooooo, pick that option. Please. That one sounds fun."

Whumpee glared at the first stranger. "Take anything you want. Everything. I won't tell anyone."

The first stranger cocked their head as they considered. "You know what I want, why won't you give it to me? Maybe I will have to hurt you anyway."

Whumpee had to get help now. They were going to hurt Whumpee no matter what. "HELP! HELP! HELP ME!"

Whumper Two cackled loudly as they punched Whumpee in the ribs. Whumpee doubled over, all the breath leaving their lungs as Whumper Two jumped on top of them. "Whumper One did warn you! And now I get my fun!" Whumper Two said gleefully as they continued to pummel Whumpee.

Whumper One glared at Whumpee as they shoved a rag in Whumpee's mouth. "I did warn you. Now I'm going to let them do whatever they want to you unless you tell me what I want."

Whumpee tried to speak around the rag, but couldn't. They growled their frustration. "What's that? Cat got your tongue? My turn!" Whumper Two said as they dragged Whumpee to the chair. They quickly tied Whumpee to the chair and pulled a long, sharp knife from their belt. "This is going to be so much fun."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[whumpygifs]

Jiang Xinbai! Are you okay?

[whumpslist]

The Lincoln Lawyer 2.05 episode "Suspicious Minds"

Character: Mickey Haller, portrayed by Manuel Garcia-Rulfo

Type of whumps: ambushed, brutally beaten, punched and kicked repeatedly, arm broken, knocked out and left unconscious on the floor, fate unknown.

(video source: ©Net.flix)

[jedi-lothwolf]

June of Doom Day 3: Ambushed

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Summary: we're resting in a village before continuing with their mission, the batch faces an unforeseen event.

    "Thank you." Hunter told the Tagrutan lady as his squad entered her home. They had been in the woods near her village as night felt. While Tech tried to stabilize Crosshair's broken leg, the women and her wife had stumbled upon them. Then she invited them back to her home, offering to let them stay the night so that they could take care of Crosshair's injuries and rest.

    "Of course, anything to help out our troops."

    Walking into the living room, they found that one of their hosts had pulled out a pull out coach. There were light sheets on the mattress and a few small decorative pillows.

    "Stay still." Tech told Crosshair. "You have broken your Tibia, I need to stabilize it so you don't make it any worse."

    Crosshair just scowled. Tech instructed Wrecker to move their brother's leg into the mattress. The batches host brought them some water and bread. She handed them out to each clone before informing them that her and her wife would be heading to bed. "Wake us up if you need anything or before you leave."

    "We will." Hunter sat in one of the corners of the sofa bed and ate his bread. The soldiers talked about their next move and how to complete their mission.

    As Tech finished wrapping Crosshair's leg, Hunter spoke. "We have a long day ahead of us, get some rest."

    It was a few hours later when Hunter woke up. Tiredly, he went to find what was making the noise. Walking to the door of the house, he looked out the window. There seemed to be nothing there. However the rhythmic clanking of battle droids was the only thing Hunter could hear.

    It wouldn't be the first time that the man heard something that wasn't there.  Maybe he should wake up Tech to get his opinion. Walking back over to the living room, he gently shook Tech awake.

    "Do you hear that?"

    "What should I be hearing?"

    "Droids."

    "I do not hear any droids, however you hear better than in do. I think it best we check." Standing from the corner of the sofa be occupied, Tech grabbed his shoes and put them on. Falling his brother's lead, Hunter grabbed his shoes and put them on. Quickly, as he had done a million times before, he tried them.

    Standing back up, Hunter walked to the door. Tech stood beside it. They had never bothered taking off their armor, just in case they needed to leave quickly.

    The air outside was vastly different from the warth of the house. It was a chilly night, one where the cold air bit you. Tech made sure Hunter was okay with the quick temperature change. He was more sensitive to fast changes the environment. After his brother nodded, the two walked into the surrounding woods.

    The pine trees stood tall around them. The night sky was dark with stars littered across it. The clones walked towards the sound of the noise until they no longer heard the sound. It hadn't faded, just holited. Tech and Hunter looked at each other and they came to the same realization.

    They were surrounded.

    Hunter had been so sure that he was imagining things; so sure it was just his mind playing cruel jokes on him, that he hadn't thought to wake up Wrecker. Now they had to hold off an ambush on their own.

    Just as they thought, the droids revealed themselves as the two soldiers drew their blasters.  Ducking behind a tree, Hunter took out the droids that had landed on the clear side of the tree. The pleasant scent of the pine trees was taken over by the smell of oil and melted metal.

    Grabbing Tech, Hunter pulled him behind the tree. "Wrecker, come in."

    While waiting for a reply from their younger brother, they started to take out as many droids as they could. More droids just seemed to replace the others.

    As Tech leaned over the tree, he remembered the empty space from where the droids Hunter had taken out had stood. More than likely, others would take their place. Of course, he was correct. Shooting the one that was about to kill Hunter, he caught a bullet to his left shoulder blade. Hunter disposed of the droid before asking "are you okay?"

    "I was shot in the left scapula at an approximate distance of fifty feet" Tech hissed, "I am not okay."

    "Wrecker, now would be a good time!"

    Waking up, Wrecker looked down at his comm, then over to the empty corners of the sofa. Finally registering the panic in Hunter's voice, he answered.

    "What's going on?"

    "Droids. A lot of them. Tech's been shot but he's still conscious, just in pain."

    Already walking out the door, Wrecker asked "where are you?"

    "Just follow the sound of blaster fire." Hunter sighed. It shouldn't take long for Wrecker to find them. It had taken 20 minutes to get out as far as they had and they hadn't been running.

    "Okay. Be there soon." With that, Wrecker turned off his comm.

    With more droids coming from all sides, Tech tried to think of a plan. The pain in his shoulder seemed to be getting in the way of forming many coherent thoughts. They needed a plan, nothing would change that.

    Breathing began to be more complicated. Tech looked over at Hunter. "We need a plan."

    "You don't have one?" Hunter asked, shooting another few droids before turning to face him. Most of the time, it was almost impossible to tell what Tech was thinking based on his facial expression; however, currently all that Hunter could see was pain and fear.

    "No. It is getting very difficult to form cogent thoughts." His voice was shaking as tears had started to form in his eyes from the pain.

    "Okay." Shooting some more droids down, Hunter tried to put together a plan. While the batch came up with strategies together and Hunter worked on them often, it was sort of like a hobby for Tech. "We wait." Wrecker would be there soon.

    "Okay."

    Wrecker ran through the forest. Briers caught on his ankles and rocks stabbed into the bottom of his feet. The sound of blaster fire was getting closer and closer.

    As the droids closed in, Hunter looked over at Tech. "How much longer do you think we have?"

    Tech shot a droid on their side of the tree, "maybe five minutes. There is only so much we can do. I would" he hissed as he rose his left arm to shoot another  droid. "I would comm Wrecker."

    "Okay."

    The droids cornered them, forcing their backs as far into the tree as they could. The two brothers looked at each other. They had an understanding that they had done all they could. "I'm sorry." Hunter said.

    "It is not your fault."

    As they prepared for death, they heard a large amount of rustling in the bushes. Hunter sighed as he realized Wrecker had made it in time.

    "Raaahhhhhh!" Wrecker burst through the bushes he was around. Plowing through the droids, Wrecker grabbed his gun and started shooting them down. Hunter pulled Tech up and the two helped Wrecker dispose of the rest of the droids.

    "I wish you had arrived a moment earlier." Tech sighed, "however I am aware you likely did your best and I am solely talking out of pain."

    Gently, Wrecker picked up Tech and the brothers made their way back to the house. When they arrived, Tech informed Hunter of what to do for his shoulder.

Wrecker sat on the couch, pulling his feet onto the bed. "Wrecker" Hunter started, "where are your shoes?"

"I didn't put them on."

"Are you okay?"

Pulling a thorn out of the bottom of his foot, Wrecker said, "yep. I'm good."

"Okay." After finishing taking care of Tech's shoulder, Hunter walked over to Wrecker and bandaged his feet.

The sun would rise soon and the batch would have to continue on with their mission. It would be a success, even with the injuries that had proven to be a challenge for the batch.

[isamajor]

June of Doom : Day 1 to 5

Yay, @juneofdoom is here ! Time to write more whump drabble with Skyrim Custom-voiced Followers ! ♥

1 . “Help me.” 

A squad of Thalmor was after them and they had separated to better outrun them. Gore had headed towards Peak Shade's Tower, hoping to camouflage himself in the dense vegetation. A trap was also hidden here and it was only when his foot landed on it, that he realized too late what was happening to him. Then the intense pain of the jaw closing on his calf. He fell and curled into fetal position, biting the ground so as not to scream and be spotted by his pursuers.

Shortly after, footsteps approached him. It wasn't a Thalmor. Gore whispered “Help me.” (102)

•

2 . “It didn’t have to be this way.” 

It had been stronger than him. Set foot again at the embassy, without consulting the Dragonborn infiltrating there, nor his other companions who were waiting in the rocks not far from the building.

Although Taliesin knew every nook and cranny, he was still flushed out by his former colleague, the chief torturer, Rulindil. When the Dragonborn saw them talking, they have the vehement feeling of having been utterly double-crossed and betrayed. They confronted the two Thalmors.

“It didn’t have to be this way.” , pleaded Taliesin. He was trembling, torn between affection for his old and new comrades. (99)

•

3 . “Well, well, well…”  

Having hidden his camp between the lake and forest, Kaidan sat by his campfire, oblivious to the danger that awaited him. The sound of a spell startled him, and before he could react, a powerful paralysis spell struck him, causing him to fall motionless. As Kaidan struggled against the invisible force that held him captive, a voice echoed through the trees, cold and mocking.

"Well, well, well... We finally got you.", taunted the Thalmor wizard leading the ambush. Trapped, Kaidan's heart was beating with anger at being ambushed by the Thalmor, who must have been tracking him for a long time. (102)

•

4 . “Does that hurt?”     

Lucien's breath caught as his foot pressed on the pressure plate. He barely had time to react when iron spikes burst from the ground, impaling his leg. A strangled yelp escaped his lips as he collapsed.Inigo rushed to his side, eyes wide with worry.

"Does it hurt, my friend? How much?"

Lucien panted, trying to control his breathing and tears, unable to answer. Inigo's expression hardened and he began to examine the injured leg.

“Our friend must have some healing potions in their bag.”

Lucien nodded weakly, hiccupping, squeezing Inigo's hand as he tried to focus on something other than the pain. (105)

•

5 . “It’s not as bad as it looks.”    

Remiel winced as Xelzaz gently cleaned the wound on her face. The bite from the skeever had started to swell, turning an angry red and oozing pus. She felt tears prick at her eyes, not just from the pain but from the fear of disfiguration.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”, Xelzaz said softly. He applied a poultice to the bite, the coolness providing some relief.

“The swelling will go down soon. This poultice will draw out the infection.”

Remiel sniffed, trying to muster a smile. “You’re sure?”

Xelzaz nodded firmly. “I promise. Just rest and let me take care of you.” (100)

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 3, 10, 18, 19

Ambushed | Smoke | Self-defence | “This can’t be happening!”

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Contains: angst, very brief mention of corporal punishment, ambush, arrest, restraints, corrupt guards, fantasy chloroform, knocked out

WC: 940

Burnt sugar and rotting flesh

The stars were coldly curious, just barely visible now that the sun was almost set. The food taster walked the streets with purpose, toward the palace, toward its high walls and iron gates. His feet ached from the countless steps he’d taken that day as he scoured the city for any word of the girl. His bones creaked with fatigue, his head ached with confusion, his throat pinched with thirst, his chest burned with frustration.

How could no one know who she was?

Guilt, too, prickled at his conscience. He shouldn’t have slipped away in secret. Really, he shouldn’t have even considered leaving without permission. After all, he was sworn to bend to his employer’s whims and well-being, no matter how friendly their bond. Worse, sneaking away before dinner meant he was shirking his duties outright. If word of his disobedience reached the governor? Unquestionably, there would be some measure of punishment awaiting him once they returned to the north.

Whatever that turned out to be—withheld wages, a stern warning, a lash or two with a switch—mattered little. Tonight, it was all insignificant.

He promised himself: another hour of searching, and if his efforts still turned up nothing, he would give up.

When he approached the royal palace’s south gate, his steps faltered.

The air . . .

It was different here.

It didn’t reek, exactly, but it was . . . unwelcoming. Magic lay thick and impassable over the iron bars, spikes, and locks—a curse dense enough that the area even appeared unguarded.

Don’t even try, the spell warned.

Ignoring the acrid tang of hostility on his tongue, the food tester pressed his hands to the lock.

The spell holding it together snapped.

He stepped back, mystified but undeniably pleased that it had worked. Palms slick with perspiration, he slid the mechanisms apart, piece by piece.

“Oi! You!”

Perhaps the area was not as undefended as he thought.

The food taster cursed under his breath, jolting away from the broken lock as harsh voices rang through the air.

“Yes . . . ?” he asked, trying to exude an air of bewilderment as a line of soldiers advanced toward him.

Too late, he realized they were shouting his name.

How did they know his name?

Much too late, he considered that his friend’s dire predictions might actually come true.

“Breaking in, were you?” asked the leader. “Caught you red-handed.”

Had they been looking for him? Waiting for him?

“How . . . how do you know me?” he stammered.

His earlier confidence that he might successfully defend himself was downright laughable. Two guards seized his arms, too strong for him to shake off, while the leader rifled through his pockets.

“Hey! Get—get off!”

The leader paid him no heed; he merely smiled in triumph, displaying the girl’s gold charm with a flourish. “Well. I was told I’d catch a thief tonight. Looks like I did.”

“I’m not a thief,” the food taster protested. “I wanted to return it!”

His objections went ignored.

“You’re under arrest,” the leader said, locking a pair of manacles over the food taster’s wrists.

“You can’t arrest me!” he yelped. “I haven’t done anything!”

The guards looked pointedly at the gate’s broken lock.

“Get moving,” said the leader, pushing him forward. A malicious sort of amusement coloured his tone. “Tell it to the . . . courts.”

“But I—”

Someone shoved him again, rattling the chain, and the food taster stumbled, falling silent in defeat.

They hauled him into a dimly lit office, demanding a full confession. The room boasted dusty, windowless walls and cold grey flagstone for a floor. It stank of old magic and suffering.

With his heart in his throat, the food taster repeatedly defended his innocence. More than once, with irritation unchecked and running rampant, a guard slammed his chained hands back to the table or clipped him hard on the ear.

To his great alarm, his explanation of “I wanted to find her and give it back to her; also, I think she might be in grave danger,” appeared to hold very little sway.

“Oh, save it,” said the leader impatiently, “and shut up.” To the other guards, he said coolly, “I’ll handle the rest of this. Leave us.”

Dread washed through the room when the other guards vanished, although the food taster couldn’t have said why.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he insisted.

“Honestly? I don’t care.”

The food taster’s mouth dropped open as the guard lifted the statement he had just finished painstakingly recording, holding it tauntingly against a torch set into the wall.

The paper flared into smoke and flame.

“What are you doing?” the food taster cried, struck with horror.

“Well, you see . . .” The guard dropped the charred remains of the parchment to the floor. “Someone wants a word with you. In private.” He lowered his voice. “No trail left behind.”

A sickening scent met his senses in a violent assault: a heavy, cloying smell, like burnt sugar and rotting flesh.

Poison.

Not just any poison. He cursed his too-deep knowledge of the subject, for he knew right away what this poison was for. He knew when that soaked cloth clamped over his nose and his mouth, the pungent chemical would cut off his air and overwhelm his senses, muddying his thoughts and sending him straight into the depths of oblivion.

This can’t be happening.

“No! Don’t—”

The last thing he felt was the guard’s free hand holding him down to quell his struggles.

The last thing he heard was his own panicked, muffled breaths.

The last thing he saw was shackled hands growing slack, and the yellow candlelight fading to impenetrable, unforgiving darkness.

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[whumpster-dumpster]

Childhood whumper culture was trying to convince your parents to buy you a movie without telling them it's specifically because you want to watch that one (1) whump scene over and over again in HD

[whumpdaydreamerx]

A Caretaker, who is either really strong or supernatural, and is usually able to take anything thrown at them, no matter if it’s a trap or not. They’re used to barreling through situations in order to save their Whumpee, and come out fine, no matter what happens to them.

This time, however, Whumper has set the perfect trap and has Whumpee ready as bait. They’ve figured out a way to finally subdue Caretaker and incapacitate them. Whumpee thinks it’ll be okay even after Caretaker gets hit, thinking they’ll get up to dust themselves off like they usually do. 

Instead, their hope dwindles as they see Caretaker, still sprawled on the ground unable to get up. They see them breathing rapidly with their lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, trying to deal with the pain. Whumpee’s oh shit moment when they see Caretaker try to get up, but it only results in agony, causing them to sink back down and writhe in misery.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee part 29

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, ambush, death, traitor, bleeding out

"IT'S A TRAP!" He roared in warning, and pure chaos exploded. Several armed soldiers came bursting into the room, all wearing enemy colors. Whumpee's blood went ice-cold at the sight.

"TAKE COVER!" Jake shouted, and the whole team scrambled to hide as Leader's men opened fire.

Three of them weren't fast enough, and caught bullets in vital places, fatal. Leaving only Jake, Reed, Max, and Whumpee alive to shelter behind a thick metal cabinet that was being peppered by lead.

"Max, cover me! I'm going for surprise! Reed, Whumpee, you're with me!" Jake immediately took charge of the situation, barking orders as he exploded from cover and launched at the nearest soldier.

Whumpee was right on his heels, instantly calculating the enemy numbers and throwing himself at a group of three while Reed took on a different one. There were six soldiers in total, but Jake's attack had surprised them like intended, and they were slow to react. A fatal mistake.

Max sprung up and braced his gun on the top of the metal cabinet, providing cover fire and taking out two enemy soldiers on the spot.

Whumpee was quick to dispatch the three he'd chosen, snapping necks and crushing skulls into walls until all were dead before whipping around to see if his teammates needed help.

"Whumpee!" Max cried, and Whumpee's attention snapped over to him, where he was awkwardly dragging a semi-conscious Jake back behind the cabinet and into cover. "Jake's down!"

Whumpee glanced over to check on Reed's status, spotting him taking the gun from a dead enemy -- he was fine. So he ran around the cabinet to where Max was sitting on the ground, Jake's head in his lap.

Jake groaned weakly, head rolling limply to the side and blood trickling from his hairline.

"He hit his skull hard," Max said quickly, "might have fractured it. What do I do?!" His voice was laced with panic.

Whumpee reached out to check the extent of the injury, but froze stiff at the sound of a quiet click right behind him, metal pressing lightly into the back of his head.

"...You can surrender, and I'll get him medical help," a flat voice said.

Max's eyes went huge, staring over Whumpee's shoulder to whoever was behind him. "R-Reed?" He squeaked. "W-What are you doing?"

OH, Whumpee suddenly realized, pieces clicking together. THAT'S why Reed had picked a fight with him at such an odd time. It was to distract him, since he was the most highly alert member of the team... which meant that Reed was a bloody traitor.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

@theforeverdyingperson

[whumperofworlds]

Rules here!

Caretaker and Teammate learned that Caretaker's best friend, Whumpee, had been captured by Whumper and their Henchmen, and were told to go rescue them with a death threat towards Whumpee. Despite Teammate's protests that it could be a trap and that Whumper probably didn't even have Whumpee, Caretaker insisted to save their friend, to which Teammate agreed to help. During their trek to save Whumpee, they found a recording where sounds implied that Whumper and their Henchmen indeed have Whumpee. Caretaker gets suspicious of the trap, but they and Teammate continued on.

They eventually found the Henchmen and Whumper, guarding Whumpee in a cage. After waiting for the right time, Caretaker ambushed and knocked out one Henchman and goes to the cage where Whumpee was being held, only to learn that it wasn't Whumpee--inside the cage was a recording of Whumpee's voice. That was when Whumper and their Henchmen surrounded Caretaker, only the realize that Teammate wasn't with them. One Henchman saw that Teammate started an ambush in the air, and during the chaos, Caretaker finds an entrance Teammate made where it led to Whumpee, who is tied up. Freeing Whumpee, Caretaker and Teammate escaped with them after a close call.

What piece of media does this whumpy scene come from? Tell me via replies here, reblog, an ask, etc! You have 24 hours!