#missing whumpee

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee's rescued by a stranger; who's investigated their disappearance long enough to know who they are, and who they are to caretaker.

As soon as they get them out, they pick them up and hand them straight to caretaker, saying "I believe this is yours."

[painful-pooch]

A Trigger Unleashed

Hey guys! It's been a minute haha. I finally found some writer's juice and wrote part two of @ocean-blue-whump and I's collab: From Tyrant to Martyr. This was definitely an idea sparked by @whumpninja and @whumperofworlds that I wanted to do.

Part 1: The Start

@i-eat-worlds I thought you'd enjoy a Kieran moment in this, so here's your tag.

Hope you guys like it!

TW: military whump, ptsd, violence, stoic whumpee, missing whumpee, team leader gone mad, team whump

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This is going to be easier than anything you've done, kid. I promise. We'll be back for dinner, and I'll even toss in dessert."

"You sure about that, old man? I have to work with Kieran of all people. You know he's an asshole and doesn't want me on the team."

"I promise he will warm up to you eventually. It'll be in and out. Just stand watch with him and be his spotter. You can't get farther away from the real danger than that."

"I'm not fragile..."

"No, you're not fragile by any means, but we have our orders and we will execute them as need be. Next mission, I'll make sure you're in on the breaching team so you can get some experience. Now rest up. You got a big day tomorrow."

After The Mission

Bruno checks the time on his watch, counting down when he has to go to his after-mission brief with General Kane. He has an idea of how it'll go this time, considering during the mission, things didn't go according to the plan. No... not one bit. His daughter - Lieutenant Marlow Stenberg- has been taken, and he must now answer as to why it happened.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, the stress of the unknown eating at his conscious. "Better go in before he has another reason to tear a new one into me." He pushes himself away from the desk, standing up and checking himself in the mirror. His uniform a pure reflection of himself, no loose ends or strings in sight, his rank dead center on his chest. He wants to climb the ranks and prove to himself, and his family, that he can go the distance. His obstinate behavior ensures that he always get the mission done in the safest way possible. However, his SEAL counterpart, Lieutenant Commander 'Richie' Richard Trembley, thinks the mission should come first, no matter the consequences. This has lead Bruno and Richie to clash in more ways than one, but Kane prefers Richie's mentality.

Though it doesn't matter. He's the actual leader of a Joint Command team. It's Bruno’s law over Richie's opinion. That being said, Bruno is on the hook for any mistakes made during missions, this one included. He should have been there and put a stop to anything. It's all his fault she's missing and probably suffering at the hands of her assailants.

He runs his hand across his stubble and averts his gaze from the mirror. What will happen in that office, he doesn't know. What he does know, is that he won't be coming out feeling like a million dollars. Kane is good about sending him out feeling like the muck on the sole of a shoe. That isn't a problem anyways; he already feels like the worst leader and father in the world.

"Enough delaying, idiot," he mutters to himself, clearing his throat. "Time to get it over with." He leaves the office and makes his way to Kane's in under 7 minutes, still 5 minutes early from the time he was given. The deeply rooted military part of him is beyond pleased by this, but then the looming danger hits him like a truck when General Kane rips open the door, glaring at Bruno.

"You're late. Get the fuck inside and stand at attention, you useless sack of shit." The look in his eyes were enough to tell Bruno he's about to undergo something he hasn't been through before in all his years.

Bruno nods curtly and enters the office, the door getting slammed behind him by General Kane. He stands in front of the desk, standing at attention and presenting a salute. "Sir, Lieutenant Colonel Stenberg reports as ordered."

Kane, now behind the desk, waves his hand. "Stand at Parade Rest. I don't have the respect for you to salute back. Now, you better start explaining to me what happened last night and why we are missing Tyrant, your own daughter. It had better be a good reason for it."

He swallows back his worries, knowing Kane isn't one to be fought with; not this time. "Sir, last night's mission was as follows: I had the help of Lieutenant Commander Trembley assess the fortification against us, set up by the targets. It was then determined Petty Officer Second Class Kieran Ashton, Strider, would keep watch with Second Lieutenant Marlow Stenberg, Tyrant. I was going in with Sergeant Valdemar Ackermann, Kevlar, to clear out the factory while Senior Airman Khrystyna Paszek, Patches, was disarming the alarm system. The mission was supposed to have taken a total of 7 hours, 13 minutes. At the 6 hour mark, Strider made note that Tyrant was not in her area of responsibility, and called for her in private comms. It was then determined upon extraction that she was now Missing in Action." His eyes shift to the floor, fighting away his own emotions. "I can only hope we can find her. I have Oscar on the job."

Kane is scribbling down on a notepad, shaking his head in disappointment and disbelief. "It was a simple mission, and yet we are missing an operative. We are supposed to be an example to our enemies that we are a task force that can get the job done, and they kidnapped your daughter. What kind of a leader are you?"

The question makes his own heart stop, his brain working on an answer, but not fast enough, because a fist meets his cheek, and he's tasting iron in his mouth. In shock, his eyes go up to meet Kane's, and he is once again hit in the face, pain flashing through him. "There's no excuse for my failure, S-Sir. None at all. I should have done more for her-"

"You should have been there. You should be the one taken. Now she's probably going to die because of you. Because you're weak!" Kane pulls Bruno hard by the tie and slams his head down on the desk, items shaking from the force. The General then takes the picture frame of himself from the desk and shatters it against Bruno’s head, blood splattering on both uniforms. "You just ruin everything you touch. Did you ever think that you should have died in that accident years ago? I do. I think about it all the time. You're going to leave this office with this mistake on your conscious forever. You better hope she's still alive, or else I will be doing worse. Got it? I asked you a question!" He pulls the tie back, effectively choking Bruno and making the man struggle in the broken glass.

All he knows is pain now, partly from losing his daughter, but the other from getting reprimanded, the glass cutting his face up and the inability to breathe. He's coughing and his training kicks in, grabbing Kane's hand instinctively. "Crystal. Clear."

Kane grins sadistically at Bruno. "Not clear enough. Let's see if this gets the message clear to you," he chuckles, bringing Bruno to the floor and stomping on his chest hard enough to knock the breath out of the man.

His eyes widen when the memories of the past swarm him, the metal shards protruding from his chest. He doesn't realize he's screaming and writhing on the floor, the burning sensation ripping throughout his body. "Get it out, get it out, GET IT OUT!" A sobbing mess, the Lieutenant Colonel, a proud and stoic man, is rendered to a puddle of blood and tarnished memories.

That is until a pitcher of cold water is tossed on his face, his eyes locked on the pitcher in Kane's hand. "Pathetic. Absolutely a shame to see such a man with potential on the floor like trash. You had so much promise, but I suppose you'll have to do for now. Go interview Kieran on what happened that night. Do it now or later, when you've regained some dignity. You're dismissed."

It's all a blur now, Bruno not even realizing he's upright, using the wall to walk and keep himself steady. The last one to see her was Kieran... the one that would have betrayed her was him. From sadness to complete and utter vitriol, it only takes a few delirious steps until he's in front of Kieran, hand wrapped around his throat and lifting the Navy SEAL up.

"What the fuck did you do to my daughter? Why wasn't she with you?!" Bruno roars, tears falling down his face. He feels just like Kane, but the words the General told him keep echoing. It's all his fault. It's always been his fault.

Kieran is using both hands to hold Bruno's wrist, legs kicking as he yells, "You're fucking crazy! I didn't hurt her! KHRYSTYNA!" For once, Bruno can see pure terror in Kieran’s eyes, and it makes him wonder if he's telling the truth. His daughter's life depends on it.

"What. Did. You. Do? She would have been with you the whole time!" Not in focus, his anger spurring him on, Bruno slams Kieran against the wall hard, the shelves falling and things shattering upon impact with the floor. "So what the fuck did you do to fuck over my kid, Kieran?"

Kieran’s kicking grows weaker by the second, Bruno's grip hardening. "J-just told her to let me h-handle the watch. She was ch-checking the perimeter. I swear!"

That…

That snaps most of the lines tethering Bruno to reality, and he throws the man across the room, breathing heavily. "You're the reason she could be dead. I trusted you with her life, and so did she! You bastard! I'll fucking kill you if she's dead!" He takes a few menacing steps towards Kieran when he feels hands on him, yanking him back hard.

"Bruno, calm down!" Valdemar shouts, using all of his strength to keep the large man from killing Kieran, looking to Miranda, who's on Bruno's other side.

"There's an explanation, Bruno, please! This isn't you! What happened? You're bloody and hurt," her voice comes in a shocked yet commanding tone. Miranda tries to make Bruno look at her, but all she can see is his glossed over eyes and she knows he's far too gone to save now. "Khrystyna! Get the syringe!"

The way Bruno tries to fight them off is almost similar to a bull relentlessly throwing off its rider, but it becomes pointless when a syringe is slammed into his chest. His eyes refocus, and he sees a young Khrystyna standing before him, plunging the sedatives into his system. A cold feeling washes over him and he crumples to his knees, his tears now falling freely. "My kid… Find my kid. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." The darkness creeps in fast and it's only thanks to his teammates that he doesn't crash hard against the floor, leaving everyone to wonder two things:

What the hell happened to the strong Lieutenant Colonel?

Where's Marlow Stenberg?

[whumperly]

Thinking a lot about emotional whump in the form of phone calls or texts.

A final call between two characters, maybe as a goodbye, maybe to inform them where they're going, or maybe it's a regular check-in while they're apart.

Maybe the caller sounds cheerful, laughing and cracking jokes, both unaware that this is the last time they'll hear each other's voices. Maybe they're distressed, but too panicked or out of it to make sense no matter how hard receiver asks them What's happening? Where are you? Maybe the line goes dead unexpectedly. Maybe in their confusion and fear, the caller hangs up.

Maybe receiver can't understand them at all. Caller's voice is broken up with static and silence as the call keeps almost dropping.

Maybe receiver picks up the phone and there's no voice at all, just the muffled sounds of the phone being shuffled around, buttons being pressed, and hair-rising, distant sounds of pain or threatening voices.

Thinking about receiver not getting a call, but a text. Strange, blurry images and messages that get more and more concerning as an addled whumpee tries to explain their situation, who they're running from, why they're hiding, but is too out of it to be coherent.

Maybe all receiver gets is a single word: HELP before radio silence.

Alternatively, maybe the texts aren't from whumpee at all. Maybe they're from the whumper. Imagine texts that get stranger and more mildly threatening before receiving a photo of receiver's house... or worse, from their hallway.

[whumpshots]

Whumptober #24

Trope of the day: “I thought they were with you.”

_

Caretaker's heart drops when they see team leader return by themself. Whumpee is nowhere to be seen, not even closely following the other. With their mouth dry and their throat tightening, they catch up to team leader and grab them by the shoulders.

Their fingers dig into the other's shirt, desperate to hold onto something, to make them realise that they are in fact not dreaming.

"Where are they?", they finally manage to say and team leader looks at them with fear and confusion in their eyes. "Please tell me, where's whumpee?"

Team leader's brows furrow. “I thought they were with you,” they mutter and the confusion turns into worry as caretaker keeps staring at them with growing panic. The last time they saw whumpee, they were already hurt.

So what is their condition now?

[comfy-whumpee]

Jane: Interlude

Whumptober 21 - found family. CN: BBU, missing person search.

-

It took far, far too long for her to realise. She needed to do a head count every morning. She needed to keep better track of who was in the house. She should have known immediately if someone had gone. She should have their trust enough that they wouldn’t disappear in the night. She should know them well enough to know where and why they had disappeared.

She should never have given up on Boo.

The thoughts crowded in a vicious cycle in her head as she drove into town with Tenten in the passenger seat. He’d insisted on coming even though she’d rather face her abject failure alone. He was probably the only one she’d bring. He could go out alone, and talk to strangers on an even footing. He could ask around while she scouted further afield and made calls. Mrs Kaur was coming up to help, as was Neeta, who thankfully had a day off. Nobody else was able to come. Nobody else could help her, and she couldn’t know whether Boo had left on purpose, so filing a police report was useless.

It was all her fault. She had brought Jane back. She had disrupted the house. She had thrown something new into the mix. She hadn’t asked. She hadn’t checked with them. She had assumed everything was fine and gone to bed happy that she’d helped someone.

It’s all my fault, she imagines telling Dr Cerasale when she sees him next, for her fucking counselling that she got for her fucking broken family. Well, look at her now. She’s broken another one.

You were responsible for them, Dr Cerasale says back, in her head. He wouldn’t say it in real life but she’d fucking deserve it if he did. Just like you were responsible for your son.

Tenten is silent. He probably understands what happened. She’s let him down, as well. He’ll feel less safe at the shelter now, because of her.

“Let me know if you want to go back,” she tells him as they park. “Call me if you want to, for any reason.”

She’s given him a phone. He’s tucked it into his jacket, and merely nods at her. She doesn’t know how he isn’t terrified, but she’s glad he’s not. Maybe he’ll break down later. She’ll probably miss that, too.

She’s been in Boo’s room and confirmed all their things were left behind. It’s proof that they were driven to leave. This wasn’t planned.

Maybe they know Jane. Maybe she reminds them of someone. Maybe they thought she would take their place. She doesn’t know. She knows so little about them, and she’s been so complacent.

The sun stings her eyes. As soon as she went up to get them for breakfast and found their room empty, she’s been on the move. She searched the house. She searched the garden. She ran through the lanes near the house, imagining them passed out, injured, dead in the hedges. She covered miles through sheer panic. She told Roman, who went white as a sheet and locked himself in his room. She told Kamala, who burst into tears for less than a minute and then forced herself to be calm. She didn’t have time to deal with either of them.

She told Tenten, and it took Tenten telling her for her to think about asking in town.

So now she’s striding through the streets with their one picture of Boo, taken for their passport and never since used. Their passport, that’s still in her bureau in the front room, where they could have taken it but didn’t. She shoves their bland little photo in front of everyone she goes past. She sees the distaste in their eyes at her unkempt desperation. “Have you seen them? Have you seen them, please? Please look out for them. Please, have you seen them?”

Tenten is on the other side of the road. He is the picture of calm. He shows the photo in front of him as he walks. “Has anyone seen my friend? Can anyone help me?” he asks. People shake their head at him, apologise, and wish him luck. From Avis, they turn away with averted eyes.

She can’t do this again. She can’t think straight. Her heart won’t slow down. She can’t lose another. She can’t take this. She can’t.

“Please, they’re vulnerable,” she begs parents and children alike, the former shielding the latter from her raw despair. “I just want to make sure they’re safe. Please.”

She’s not speaking to the people in front of her. She’s pleading with the world. Just let them be safe. Let them be okay. God, she has a brand new Romantic rescue back at the shelter with nobody better than Kamala to keep an eye on her. She’s so fucking reckless for thinking she could do this alone.

She needs Mrs Kaur to get to the house and look after them. She needs Neeta on the streets with the flyers she said she’d make. She needs help. She needs her family back.

“Have you seen them? Please look, please, they’re vulnerable…”

Everybody shakes their head.

[whump-in-the-closet]

weak in the knees for situations where a stoic whumpee allows someone to help them. they don't say a word of acceptance but they don't protest either. Too injured to say no and too tired to deny they need it. Just grudgingly letting a gentle hand guide them to a bed or to wrap a wound. Then a quiet, "thank you." in between sharp breathing as they try not to break down in front of someone else. Love love love shielded vulnerability

[whump-galaxy]

“Ah shit, hide me. They’ll kill me if they see me.”

“D’ya deserve it?”

“Of course I deserve it, but that’s not the point. I’ve got other business to attend to before I let them take me.”

[mj-iza-writer]

Comfort whump... contains child Whumpee.

Caretaker had just sat down when their phone vibrated.

Their dog looked up at them curiously as Caretaker read the text.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late, and you can say no. Is there any way Whumpee might be able to come see your dog for a few minutes. They unfortunately are struggling again, and can't sleep. They said saying hi to Ozzie would make them feel better. Again I completely understand if you don't want to", the text read from Caretaker's neighbor.

"Of course, hold on though", Caretaker quickly replied, "don't get them out of bed."

"Come on Ozzie", Caretaker hurried to the door.

Their neighbor had already opened the door when Caretaker was half way across the yard.

"You didn't have to come over, I'm sorry for being a bother" the father sighed.

"It's not a bother. If a visit with Ozzie will help Whumpee, I am more than happy to oblige", Caretaker grinned, "so Whumpee is having another flare-up?"

"Yes, they just can't get warm. Severally uncomfortable", the father explained, "my wife was dealing with this all morning, then I got home from work and relieved her", the father sighed tiredly.

"Have the doctors figured anything out yet?", Caretaker watched Ozzie sneak into the house, "sorry."

"That's alright", the father grinned, "I think they know where their going. The doctors are still not sure", they sighed, "I feel like we've been in a maze. Every possible answer has just led to a blocked exit."

Giggles could be heard from down the hall.

"I think Ozzie found Whumpee", Caretaker grinned.

"I think so", the father nodded with a grin.

They walked down the hall to Whumpee's room.

"Ozzie, you're not supposed to be in the bed"- Caretaker sighed.

"They came in and jumped up here" Whumpee excitedly looked up.

"I'm sorry", Caretaker turned to the father.

"That's alright", they grinned, "I'm happy to hear some giggles."

"They feel so warm", Whumpee sighed in relief.

The father sighed, "that's been a big part of this flare up. We have several blankets on Whumpee, plus the heat is turned up. We can't keep them warm. There are other problems of course, but they're shivering non stop has been tiring."

"Yes, that takes a lot out of the body", Caretaker nodded.

Whumpee hugged Ozzie, then started to pet them.

"They can only stay for a few minutes. It's late, and you need to sleep. As does Caretaker and Ozzie", the father watched as Whumpee seemed to be getting comfortable.

"You need your rest too", Caretaker glanced at the father, "I wouldn't mind staying up with them. I wasn't doing anything tonight, and I'm off work tomorrow. It's not a problem."

"I couldn't ask you to do that", the father looked down, "that's too much to ask."

Caretaker held the father's shoulder, "when was the last time you got some good rest?"

"A... long time ago", the father admitted.

"You've been working hard at work, then coming home and working hard", Caretaker frowned, "I have helped your wife with watching Whumpee a few times already. I don't mind helping out. That way Whumpee can have Ozzie keep them warm as well."

The father watched as Whumpee's eyes grew heavy.

"Are you certain?", the father looked at Caretaker with a worried face, "you don't have to do this."

"I'm certain Caretaker nodded. I'm happy to stay up with them", Caretaker smiled as Whumpee's eyes closed, "plus I think Ozzie had just gotten them warmed up enough to sleep."

The father smiled weakly, "they haven't slept at all the last few days."

"And neither have you. It's a lot of work to support your family, and you're doing a great job doing that", Caretaker smiled, "let me take this off your plate for tonight."

After another reluctant moment Caretaker finally managed to usher the father out of the room.

They could hear the father explaining to Whumpee's mom, and then the neighboring bedroom went silent.

Caretaker sat down next to the bed.

They pressed a damp cloth along Whumpee's forehead to help with the fever.

Ozzie watched Caretaker sit back.

"Shh", Caretaker pressed their finger against their lips.

Ozzie rested their head on Whumpee's chest.

Whumpee smiled and petted Ozzie in their sleep a few times before their hand rested again.

"Poor child", Caretaker whispered as they wrung out the damp cloth in the water bowl, "no sickness is easy, but childhood illness is so cruel", Caretaker dabbed the cloth on Whumpee's forehead again, then wiped the corners of Whumpee's mouth.

"Momma?", Whumpee whispered weakly after a few hours.

Caretaker leaned up quickly.

"Hey Whumpee, it's me Caretaker. I'm right here."

Whumpee sobbed quietly, "I don't feel good."

"I know, and I'm sorry", Caretaker rubbed Whumpee's head, "do you want a drink of water?"

Whumpee nodded, then sniffled.

Caretaker held them up as Whumpee sipped.

"There you go", Caretaker recovered Whumpee with the blankets.

"Does Ozzie ever get sick?", Whumpee blinked slowly.

"He has a few times. There was one time he swallowed one of my socks. He was a puppy, I had to hurry him into the doggie doctor for help", Caretaker smiled.

Whumpee giggled, "Ozzie, you ate a sock?"

Ozzie wagged their tail happily and licked at Whumpee.

"He sure did", Caretaker smiled, "he's a silly doggie."

Whumpee giggled playfully.

Caretaker smiled as they wiped Whumpee forehead again with the cloth.

"It feels nice when you do that", Whumpee smiled.

"I'm glad" Caretaker grinned, "I'm glad it comforts you. How about we try to get some more sleep now."

Whumpee nodded, before letting a yawn start.

The sun was peaking through Whumpee's curtain when the father came into Whumpee's room.

"Wow, they're still asleep", the father marveled.

"Yes", Caretaker whispers as they nod, "I think their fever is breaking. They're sweating like crazy, and the congestion sounds a little looser."

Whumpee's mom came in.

"You said it's breaking?", she hurried to Whumpee's bedside.

Caretaker nodded, as they wiped the sweat up.

Whumpee squinted their eyes open.

"Momma?"

"Yes baby, I'm right here", their mom squeezed their hand and kissed it, "everything is alright."

"I feel wet. Did I just go swimming or something?", Whumpee tiredly looked around, "is that Ozzie?"

"Yes, Ozzie came and visited you last night", Caretaker smiled, "do you remember?"

"No, not really", Whumpee petted Ozzie's head, "I'm glad he did though. Papa, can we get a dog."

"Maybe after we get your health back", the father nodded with tears down their face, "though, I must admit I am thankful for Caretaker and Ozzie's help."

The mom wiped her eyes and nodded.

"That's what neighbors do", Caretaker grinned up at both of them, "we help out when we can."

The mom wrapped her arms around Caretaker in a hug, "I'm so thankful for you and Ozzie."

Caretaker patted her arm gently, "you're welcome."

"You're such a good boy Ozzie", Whumpee's father patted Ozzie's head, "thankyou so much for sharing your warmth."

I know I had said I would be taking a break from writing, but sometimes, when you're sad, the best thing to do is your favorite thing. For me, that's writing.

This story is inspired by my own dog Sargent. A few years ago, I had gotten really sick. I couldn't get warmed up no matter what. Sargent always knew when something was wrong: mentally, emotionally, physically. He was always there.

After a while, Sargie ended up jumping on the couch and tucking himself into the blankets with me. We slept together for hours. He was so warm.

That is still a great memory in my mind, and that is the exact reason, even though it was painful, I did not leave him while he took his last breath. I was told today that the way I am mourning him seemed unhealthy. Sarge was more than just a dog to me, I won't let his memory fade. He was here, and he was alive. He still lives on in my heart. I will mourn his physical loss the way I see fit.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@weirdthingweee @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@risk606 @electrons2006

@paperprinxe @whumprince

@kaz-of-crows @mis-graves

@decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @sausages-things

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@jumpywhumpywriter @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @thenormalestever

@whatwhump @galatic-worm

@starmoon-constellation @bacillusinfection

[echoingalaxies]

Whumpee doesn't have any family or friends in real life, but they do have a few very close internet friends. They're Whumpee's lifeline and that's why Whumpee spends all their time online.

One day Whumpee stops responding, and after a few days has passed, the internet friends gather together, first online and eventually in real life, trying to figure out what happened to Whumpee, who has seemingly just disappeared. They're not all friends with each other, and some of them might even have a complicated relationship, but they all love Whumpee and are willing to work through their disagreements to find their friend.

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

unpopular opinion but whump should and deserves to be messy

"Yeah duh there's plenty of scenarios with blood and tears--" no. I want more.

I want pink tinted spit dribbling out of Whumpee's mouth. I want strings of saliva connecting between their busted lip to Whumper's tongue. I want drool running down the corners of their mouths because of a gag that makes it difficult to swallow.

I want sweat making Whumpee feel sticky and clammy to the touch. I want their skin to be slick and soaking into their soiled clothes. I want them to squirm in discomfort of a dirty shirt clinging to their back from precious fluids that are going to risk further dehydration. I want their hair to be continuously damp and hanging in thick strands in their face.

I want the scabs to turn white with pus and black with infection. I want old wounds to tear open and bleed a thick red. I want the pink flesh underneath to pulse and quiver, the sight of yellow fat and cartilage. I want blood vessels and capillaries to burst and spread over an area, I want burns to start brown and peel away to a tender pink.

I want Whumpee to vomit out of their nose because their mouth is gagged. I want bile to reek on their clothing and on their tongue. I want them to grow use to the taste of bitter blood and burning chyme forever in the back of their throat. I want them to have to snort and hack to be able to spit out whatever was still caught on their tongue or risk swallowing it down.

I want their tears to remain unwiped and crusting over their eyes. I want snot to smear over their cheeks and leave their lips uncomfortably tacky. I want their face to remain blotchy and red because they just can't get it clean. I want dirt and blood and skin to build up under their fingernails to the point they risk infecting their own wounds if they try and mess with it. I want Whumpee to only be sprayed down with cold water and an old towel, never any soap and never in all the creases of their body.

I want their bodies caked in grime and viscera and bodily fluids. I want Whumper to never give them the luxury of feeling clean and in fact actively making them more filthy each time. I want Whumpee's clothes yellowed and their hair matted and their skin sickly. I want injuries to never properly heal so that the only option is to amputate the necrosis. I want Whumper to force Whumpee to clean up whatever kind of mess they made by licking it off the floor.

I want arteries to spew like a garden sprinkler. I want the exposed roots of pulled teeth to dangle freely in their mouth. I want Whumpee's hair, including all of their body hair, to grow to unruly lengths that are constantly tangled and ingrown. I want them to find comfort in starving because it means there's nothing to risk throwing up. I want them to scrub their skin raw and bleeding, uncaring how much it aggravates their injuries or how the soap stings, the first chance they're given for a real bath.

I want it to be nasty!!!!!!

[macknus]

Febuwhump: Day Three

Prompt: Pinned Down

Febuwhump Masterpost

Whumpee ran. Sprinted through Whumper’s camp, feeling the cold, packed damp earth slapping beneath his feet was disgustingly wonderful. A feeling he didn’t think he’d ever miss, no… but here he was, breathless from the run, already exhausted from weeks of being captured and subdued, beaten and grounded and starved. His lungs screamed at him to stop, his muscles clenching as if he was ten sets into a workout, but Whumpee continued running.

A small crazed smile on his lips as he felt the wind on his face, rushing through his damp hair that Whumper kept tied back. The first thing Whumpee did when he got free was take that blasted bobbin from his hair and let his shoulder length raven birds nest free. He felt… oh gods, he felt alive.

He cleared the camp paths, rushing out of the alleyways packed with tents like buildings on either side and when he emerged onto the field that their camp was on he finally— after weeks that felt like years, stretched his white, feathered wings and continued to run.

Damn the ache in his back from spreading them.

Damn the stiffness of his limbs as he stretched them out to their full wingspan. He felt whole again now that they were no longer chained to his back at awkward angles.

He swallowed the cheers, the hollers, the whoops that threatened to spill out of his mouth from the relief, but he wasn’t out for the woods yet. He still had to clear Whumper’s camp before he risked making any more noise than is necessary.

He beat his wings after the stiffness faded to mere pins and needles. He was skinner than before, even if they were a little out of practice, they would hold him in the skies until he was free. They had never failed him before. And with the cool night air on his cheeks, the sable night sky calling to him, the stars winking, beckoning him to the heavens, Whumpee beat his wings, once, twice, then he was up.

He faltered a bit as he tried to steady himself in the air, a single, breath denying moment of a stumble as he fell through the air. But his wings caught and he wasn’t out for flying— he was—

He was FLYING!

He didn’t care as hot tears rolled down his cheeks, whipped away by the wind as he soared high above his prison, Whumper’s vile camp.

He was— he was actually going to be free…

And then he flew straight into a wall. Whumpee blinked, stunned as his body slammed against it— but it was just open air. Open sky.

“No,” he muttered, slamming his hand against it and a ripple whirled against the invisible barrier. The same barriers that Whumper’s sadistic Right Hand could weave. “No! No, NO!”

He pushed and clawed against the barrier and glanced up. He tried to fly above its edge, the impenetrable wall meeting a ceiling and he cursed.

“No! No! No! Come on,” he cried, pushing with all his strength against the barrier. There had to be a weak spot. There had to be.

“Do you know what the real kicker is?” A cold voice asked from below. Whumpee froze physically, while his insides raged against a storm. His heartbeat hammered against his chest, sweat forming on his brow, his chest, his back from the exertion. Whumpee trembled as he tilted his head down to see Whumper directly below him. Whumper met Whumpee’s gaze with a cruel smile as he stepped past the barrier that kept Whumpee trapped within the confines of the camp. “It only works on you, darling. It helps to keep your pesky friends out, and your defiant, ungrateful self in. Exactly how I want you.”

Whumpee snarled. “I’m not coming down. I’m not letting you chain me up again.”

Whumper stepped back into the barrier, all humour gone from his sharp, angular face, but his eyes glinted with a dark promise. “Good thing I don’t need your permission then, isn’t it?”

With a click of his fingers a spear appeared in his hand and Whumpee paled. Whumper tossed the spear in his hand, getting the weight of it in his fingers as he assessed Whumpee above.

“You can either come down here, now, or I’ll bring you down, boy.”

Whumpee glanced around the camp, but there was nobody else out of bed. Only Whumper. He could fly to the opposite end, avoid his attacks and then what? He couldn’t leave! Spelled to remain—

Before Whumpee could finish the thought he felt the whistle of the spear through the air and he rolled, barely dodging the blow in time. The spear ran straight through the barrier like a mocking taunt, but Whumpee couldn’t focus on that as Whumper summoned another spear into his hand.

“This one won’t miss. One last chance, Whumpee,” Whumper sang. His voice like gravel, echoing shards of ice through Whumpee’s ears and sending shivers down his spine. Whumpee knew how good Whumper’s aim was, and he didn’t want his wings to be speared which is exactly what Whumper would do.

Whumpee hung his head, wings beating against the air to keep him up. “Okay,” he said, hands balling into fists at his sides. “Okay,” he said again and let the air catch his wings as he descended.

It was pathetic really. Whumpee had a chance at freedom, at escape, and all it took for his defiance to smoulder was Whumper. Not an army. Not an onslaught of Whumper’s bloodthirsty soldiers, just… just him. With a spear.

Whumpee’s feet had barely touched the ground before Whumper tackled him to the ground. Whumpee’s head hit off the barrier with an oomph as his shoulders took the brunt of the blow to the cold, hard earth below.

Whumper straddled Whumpee’s waist, a cold smile on his thin lips. “You know how much I love your wings, Whumpee,” Whumper cooed, running his fingers over the feathers that made Whumpee squirm. He didn’t want the sensitive spots to be touched, especially by Whumper. That was something that he and his mate would share if he— if he ever got out of here.

But Whumper knew that. Knew how intimate a gesture touching Whumpee’s wings was and did it anyway.

“Which is why I’m so proud you didn’t make me put a hole through them,” he continued, touching an especially sensitive spot that made Whumpee whimper under Whumper. “But you still need to be punished. Right Hand suggested I clip your wings.”

Whumpee’s eyes went wide through his terror, shaking his head as Whumper smiled down his horrible smile at Whumpee. “Don’t worry, darling, I told her I won’t do that. I want you to still be able to fly… but your punishment remains.”

Whumper grabbed Whumpee’s wrist and yanked his hand down until it was parallel to the ground. Whumpee struggled, trying to pull against Whumper’s strength, but his grip was strong, sure. Fed. Whumper wasn’t starved like Whumpee. Whumpee’s resistance was futile and they both knew it.

“Now, since your hands are the actual offenders, getting you out of your chains, I think this will be a fitting punishment.”

Whumper didn’t wait a beat before slamming the spear through Whumpee’s palm and burying it into the ground below. Whumpee screamed and thrashed under Whumper, begging, pleading for him to take it out, take it out, I’m sorry.

Whumper clicked his fingers and another spear appeared. Whumpee kicked and tried to worm his way out from under Whumper but every small movement aggravated his impaled hand and he cried out.

“You got cooped up, little bird, it’s okay,” Whumper cooed. “You wanted to be outside, you should’ve just asked, boy.”

Whumper grabbed Whumpee’s free hand. “No! No! Please, Whumper! Please!”

“See? With those manners, I’d give you anything, darling.”

Then he impaled Whumpee’s other palm into the ground, effectively pinning him to ground, arms stretched out wide to his sides. Whumpee screamed as fire raced through his blood, no longer struggling but every breath, every tremor threatened to move his limbs and he wanted to be sick. The stench of dirt and cold and metal from his blood filled his senses which roared like a beast inside him.

Whumper’s smile dropped from his face as he stared down at Whumpee. He stroked a hand down Whumpee’s wing and Whumpee couldn’t stop the knee jerk reaction that tore against his hand and he screamed again.

“Now boy, you’re outside. Just as you wanted. A nice night below the stars might do you some good.”

Whumpee trembled as Whumper’s heat pulled away from him as the bastard stood. His mind only processing Whumper’s words after he walked towards the streets line with tents.

“Wait! You- you can’t leave me here!” Whumpee yelled after him, panic seizing his throat. “Whumper!”

Whumper didn’t answer, just kept walking further and further away. “Whumper! WHUMPER!”

“WHUMPER!”

There was no response. Whumpee stared up at the stars winking down at him, beckoning him to the sky and he sobbed.

[suspensefulpen]

Not Again

TW: Kidnapping, Captive Whumpee, Chain Restraints

Whumpee pulled at the chain locked over their ankle. They’ve been trying since they woke up. They woke up in a basement alone. They weren’t sure where but something about it looked familiar — they couldn’t put their finger on it.

Obviously, someone kidnapped them and decided to throw them in a basement. But the question is, who would do that and why?

Even more so, why weren’t they dead yet?

Whumpee glanced around to find something sharp but came up empty handed. They sighed and went back to attempting to pull the chain from its base in the wall.

They instantly froze at the sound of footsteps over their head. Gently, they placed down the chain and listened. It wasn’t long before the steps stopped at a door that was far from Whumpee’s grasp. The locks moving filled the short silence before the door creaked open, revealing—

“Whumper?” They exhaled. A smile slowly appeared on their face. “I’m so glad you’re here! You can get me out of this. I’ve been trying for forever now. If you can just—”

They were silenced when he began to laugh.

Did they miss something? Or was this just an elaborate joke to scare Whumpee?

“No, no Whumpee.” He shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. “I am the reason you’re here.”

“What?” They rolled their eyes, a smile on their face. “Oh I get it. You’re mad about that— listen, it was a bad idea and I—”

“Oh I’m mad alright.” He descended down the stairs, coming closer. “But the reason is not what you think.”

Whumpee raised a brow. Whumper stopped in front of them, kneeling down to their level. He gently lifted their chin.

“You got away from me Whumpee.” His voice was low and gentle yet pained. “And you almost got hurt. I’m not letting that happen again. Because I’m never gonna let you go.”

[pyrepostings]

Magical Brands

Magical brands that give whumpee abilities or qualities that whumper wants them to have

A mark on whumpee's throat to make it impossible for them to choke, but still feels every bit like they're asphyxiating

Could be used for torture, it's always nice when the pain doesn't actually kill, and so you don't have to show restraint while waterboarding your interrogatee

More effective gags can be used, the kind that actually stuffs whumpee's airways and vocal cords up without worrying about them passing out

Perhaps the mark can let whumper mute whumpee altogether on a whim, or have them say the things they want

Magical brands enchanted to resist healing magic so it can't be erased

A useful brand on a visible spot that only slaves get

A brand on their tongue that glows and burns when whumpee lies

A brand that burns when whumpee uses their old name or otherwise disobeys orders - maybe this one fades after some time but reemerges when triggered

Instead of stamping sigils onto skin, maybe it needs to be drawn on with a woodburning pen - much slower and delicate

Marks on the bottom of whumpee's feet that burn when they go where they shouldn't

A collar burned into their neck that serves all the signaling to others as well as a way to inflict pain as a regular shock collar

A brand that grants fire magic to a living weapon, and of course it burns whenever that power is used

[whump-in-the-closet]

The light fades from a characters eyes in five stages

Denial. This isn’t real. You want me on my knees? I mean, if you ask nicely.

No, I’m not apologizing, I didn’t do anything wrong—

Forced to their knees anyway.

Anger. Snapping at the hands that tie them down.

Resist. Resist. Resist. This isn’t right.

Blood on the floor, iron-bitter blood in their mouth, knocked to the floor. Up again. Back down.

Fuck you, you’d have to kill me to shut me up—

Bargaining. If I lick your boots will you give me my clothes back?

If I stay still, can I please sleep tonight?

Please?

They just have to stay strong. Stay alive. Until their friends come.

— god, that’s too far— you can’t make me— anything else? I’ll do anything—

Funny, they thought they had a say in their choices.

Depression.

….

….

They aren’t coming

….

….

No more screaming.

The guards realize they can get away with a lot more when they’re dealing with the quiet prisoner.

Doesn’t matter.

Acceptance. Whatever you say. Sir.

They never had a choice to begin with. Fated to fall from the moment it started. The only thing they could control was how long it took.

It took a while.

But now?

Yes, sir. Immediate.

[whumpbug]

this little fic is heavily heavily inspired by this post from @whump-kia because i just couldnt get the idea out of my silly brain so i brain vomited onto my notes app

context →

kinda sorta wilderness/sci-fi/apocolypse setting.. it honestly could go all ways but the important factors are 1) they are in a team 2) there are enemies they are on the run from and 3) there isnt really magic healing or anything available

i wrote it as medic kinda being the most competent one in general while leader and teammate are frazzled as hell at the situation and could be read as newer to the team but that isn't necessarily my intention!

whumpee: Medic

caretaker(s): Leader and Teammate

[all characters gender neutral]

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The room fell silent. All eyes were suddenly trained on Medic who threw open the door and staggered in.

With a dagger wedged in their side.

The team had been on the run from enemies for the better part of a week now. Even though they weren't completely in the clear, the team was completely worn out. They all needed a good rest.

They were setting up camp at one of their many bases, and Medic offered to scout the area alone. Leader honestly didn’t think it was a good idea, but they were too preoccupied to think to argue it further.

Now, they sincerely wished they had.

“Medic.. oh god, oh god” whispered Teammate.

���Ambush,” They explained. “It’s.. it’s okay, I took care of it..” Medic replied cooly, but the color was quickly draining from their face. Teammate frowned and continued questioning them, but Leader heard none of it.

Leader took a shaky breath, but their feet were planted. They couldn’t move. They were frozen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No, Medic was untouchable. Medic was steadfast and reliable, always there when the team needed them.

Medic wasn’t supposed to go out like this. Medic wasn’t supposed to get hurt.

Leader’s breathing hitched again. Their head was reeling. What were they going to do?! No one on the team was qualified to fix this other than the person dripping blood all over the floor, yet it was still Leader’s job to do something. It was too much, it was too—

“Leader.”

Medic’s voice cut through the room like a knife through butter.

“I need you to listen to me. Carefully. Can you do that?”

Leader swallowed the lump in their throat. They nodded.

Medic took another step forward, only for their foot to catch on the ground, sending them stumbling forward. Teammate caught them by the upper arm and unceremoniously lowered them to the ground.

“Alright,” Medic began. Their face was scrunched up in pain. “Leader. I’m going to walk you through how to fix this, okay? I'm going to be fine.”

“Right. Right, I can help you.. just- just tell me what to do.” Leader said, forcing their voice to remain steady.

“Do you see that fire poker over there? I’m going to need you to grab it and stick the end of it into the fire. We want it to get really hot, okay?” Medic explained methodically.

If it weren’t for the blade sticking out of Medic’s middle, you’d think there was nothing even wrong with them. They seemed like everything was under control. They really seemed fine.

But not to their team.

No, their team didn’t miss Medic’s pallor, the way their eyebrows were pinched together, the way the sweat was beading on their brow. Their team didn’t miss the way their hands were trembling, the way their gaze was glassy, and the way they were slumped against the wall, seemingly sapped of their strength.

Medic was fighting to hold on, but it was a losing battle. They really didn’t have much time before they passed out from blood loss, or worse.

Leader’s resolve came back to them all at once. They nodded sharply and did as they were told, sticking the poker into the fire and leaving it on the hearth. While the team waited anxiously for the poker to heat up, Leader took the opportunity to adjust Medic into a more comfortable position against the wall. This earned a strangled grunt from Medic.

“Okay, Leader.. this.. this is important. Once that poker gets red-hot, you’re.. you’re going to have to pull out the blade from my wound and cauterize it.. immediately.” They choked out, shifting to give Leader a better view of their abdomen.

Leader’s face blanched.

“Cauterize?? Why not sutures? Surely that’s less painful,” Leader protested, only to be shushed by Medic raising their hand.

“I don’t have.. I can’t stay awake to walk you through that.. cau.. cauterization is.. quicker..”

Leader could tell Medic was reaching their limit. The wound, despite being partially plugged by the dagger, had been steadily dripping blood for a while now. Leader could tell by the way Medic’s voice was faltering and the way their shoulders were drooping that they were utterly spent. They had to hurry up.

Leader glanced at the fire poker, and upon seeing it burning hot, they grabbed a towel and picked it up.

“Alright. What’s next.”

Medic steeled their nerves and spoke.

“You and Teamate will have to work together. Leader, you’ll.. you’ll need to pull out the dagger and immediately press the poker along th.. the wound.. As soon as you pull it out, it’s going to start bleeding even faster.. you need to seal it immediately, just until the bleeding stops..”

Leader nods, though they hate this with every fiber of their being. They’ve never had to have had a wound cauterized before, thanks to Medic’s dilligency. Still, they know the procedure is agonizing and not one they are thrilled to perform on Medic.

Medic gaze flits to Teammate.

“You.. you have a very important job.. I need.. I’m gonna need you to hold me down. As soon as that metal hits my skin, I’m going to scream. I mean really scream. I’m also going to jerk away. I need you to hold me down, no.. no matter what happens, even if I pass out, so Leader doesn’t end up making the wound worse. Can you do that?”

Teammate frowns, but gives a quick nod. Teammate was always more timid, but now, in this moment, their jaw was set and there was a determined glint in their eyes. By God, they were going to help Medic.

Leader got up and sat on Medic’s legs to restrain them, and held the fire poker at their side. Using their free hand they gently grasped the handle of the blade sticking out of Medic, careful not to jostle it in the wound. Still, Medic inhaled sharply.

Teammate got behind Medic looping their arms behind theirs and holding them tight.

“Alright.. just.. just give me a count down..” Medic said, their voice low.

Leader nodded.

“3.”

Medic sucked in a breath.

“2.”

Teammate tightened their grip.

“1.”

Everything that happened after that countdown couldn’t have been more than 10 seconds, but to Medic, it felt like 10 years.

As soon as the dagger was removed, Leader pressed the hot metal into the wound. The guttural scream that tore from Medic’s throat was nausea-inducing.

Immediately, every muscle in their body seized up as they violently thrashed against the white-hot pain. Medic’s sobs rang out through the entire facility. Everyone in the vicinity flinched at the sound.

Their Medic, their savior, was now reduced to gut-wrenching cries.

Leader adjusted themself to sit on Medic’s thighs, effectively immobilizing them.

Teammate had to yank Medic’s arms down, using all their strength to keep them still.

“I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry..” Teammate whispered softly, tears blurring their vision.

Right as Leader was about to finish sealing the wound, Medic let out a gurgling gasp as their eyes rolled back into their head and they went limp.

“Medic? Hey, Medic?” Teammate mewled, lightly tapping their cheek.

Both Leader and Teammate finally loosened their grip on them and lowered Medic to the ground with as much care as they could muster.

“Hey, c’mon Medic.. wake up for us, yeah?” Leader coaxed, brushing a strand of hair from Medic’s eyes.

Medic’s eyelids finally fluttered open, but they looked utterly exhausted. Their face was streaked with sweat and there were tears tracks lining their pale cheeks. Still, they gave a weak smile.

“You.. you guys did great..” They managed, but not before their eyes slipped close yet again.

Both Leader and Teammate exchanged a laugh at how absurd it was that Medic was praising them for doing well. Still, the worst of it was over and everyone could breathe again. They knew they should get Medic up and into medbay, but they silently agreed to let Medic rest for a few moments longer.

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