#whumpers monthly

[rizzoto-whump]

@chaos-company Angstpril 2024 day 7 - Bad Dreams

@whumpers-monthly - Lullaby

James woke up, drenched in sweat and feeling a sharp sting of pain in his left arm.

"Ah, crap! Another bad dream," he muttered to himself. The pain was worsening, so he reached for another medicine to help ease it. The memories remained vivid in his mind: the brutal beating, the sound of his arm breaking, and the sensation of lying helpless on the bathroom floor, teetering on the brink of death.

Without his medication, he couldn't sleep at night, lest the nightmares return to torment him.

As the pain subsided, James took a deep breath and found some relief. He rested his head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling before closing his eyes. In his mind's eye, he pictured his mama, a kind old woman in her 60s, gently stroking his hair and singing his favorite lullaby.

Though she was nowhere to be found, James found solace in imagining her presence.

"Sleep, my baby~"

Taglist: @yoinky-sploinky

[aceofwhump]

Gotham 3x20

for @whumpers-monthly

[erdarielthewhumper]

For @whumpers-monthly's this january's prompt! A bit shorter this time bc I haven't really had a lot of writing juices recently, but eh, it's whump nonetheless!

When the arrows began to fly, the first one hit Meldie. She never had the time to notice, to react, to attempt to protect herself. One moment, she was riding along near the back of the caravan, half-dozing in the saddle, since it wasn't her watch. The next, pain like a lightning bolt lanced through her.

Before she knew what had happened, everything was already exploding into chaos. She tried to draw her sword, but pain flared up through her right side and her arm. She glanced down; an arrow-shaft stuck out of her side, just a little below and in front of her arm, sunken into the part of her that her breastplate could not protect.

Even so she grasped her sword, and urged her horse to ride down the nearest enemy, striking at others with her blade. Her warrior's instincts led, the noise and chaos drowning out any conscious thought.

Pain was nothing new, and easily pushed aside. The only way out of the battle was through, in any case. She half-forgot about the arrow as she hacked through enemy after enemy.

But though her mind could push the injury aside, her body could not. Second by second, it was harder to breathe, harder to lift the sword, the edges of her vision were getting blurry, the sounds of battle distant and distorted.

Again she lifted her sword, but this time the movement jerked her out of balance. Someone grabbed a handful of her hair, and she cried out, but hardly a sound came from her mouth. The cry turned into a cough, she tasted blood, hardly even noticing as she was pulled down from the saddle and crashed into the hard, frozen ground.

She lay there, dazed, as the battle raged around her. All she could do was gasp for air and cough, each cough bringing up thick ribbons of red blood. The world was a blur of color and movement and incomprehensible noise...

No! she would not die here! Some last part of her mind struggled to rouse her, grasping desperately for something to hold onto, but it was all it could do to hang onto the last remnants of consciousness.

The pain had melted away, it was dull and distant now, but the tightness in her chest hadn't gone anywhere. It seemed she could hardly draw air into her lungs, and she felt, vaguely, that it should have worried her, but she could hardly bring herself to care...

There were voices, above her, and movement in her fading vision, but she could make no sense of it. She was grabbed by the arms, and that finally sent another jolt of blinding pain through her, and that, finally, dragged her down into darkness and oblivion.

[astaldis]

Inferno - A Recipe for Desaster

Fandom: The Witcher

Whumpee: Jaskier

Published: 2023-01-01

Words: 3,502

"Out, get out!" Cahir shouts, but even his loud commander voice is drowned out in the deafening noise of the explosions. He grabs Milva, who is standing next to him paralysed with shock, and drags her toward where he believes the door must be. But darn, with black smoke everywhere, he can hardly see a thing. His eyes begin to water and his lungs start to burn. A rocket flies right by his face, grazing his cheek with its fiery tail. Next to him Milva squeals with pain as a firecracker has found its way up inside one of her trouser legs. Damn it, they have to get out of this inferno, or they'll get roasted alive. Where is that fucking bloody door?

Suddenly he runs into someone. Geralt. He knows the way. A mere minute later, they are outside and, in a safe distance from the burning barn, they fall onto their knees into the snow, breathing in the crisp December air. After Cahir has taken several deep gulps and does not feel lightheaded from lack of oxygen anymore, he looks around. Geralt is standing next to Milva who is lying in the snow near by holding her leg and whimpering pitifully. Angoulême is sitting beside Regis who is holding her in his arms trying to calm her down. Cahir cannot really hear what he is saying though because of the booming sounds of exploding firecrackers that are still coming from the barn, and for the ringing in his ears. After this all-too-close encounter with the explosives, the companions will probably suffer from tinnitus for a few days, he suspects. Fringilla has given up all her mostly futile efforts of containing the fiery explosions. Wiping her bleeding nose, she hunkers down beside Milva to have a look at her leg. Everybody is here, in safety, except— Shit, where the hell is Jaskier? He isn't still inside this inferno of fire and explosions? Damn it!

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43986924

Happy New Year! 🎉🍀🍾🥂🎆🎇🧨🎊🔥

[pinkieglitterheart]

for @whumpers-monthly of prompt 18

Counting Decades is a oc universe I have. Main two ocs in it are Aden (the human) and Beast (the monster oc).

full image is under a read more plus one without the background. cw for the following: excessive blood, death , and gore.

[scribeoffate]

What's going on with me? You really wanna know? Well, so would I! Because I can see, hear and smell things that I shouldn't be able to see, hear and smell! I do things that should be impossible, I'm sleepwalking three miles into the middle of the woods, and I'm pretty much convinced that I'm totally out of my freaking mind!

[not-your-housekeeper98]

Whumper's Monthly: Sunburned

Bonanza season 5 episode 4.

Little Joe Cartwright is knocked out and left to die in the desert heat.

@whumpers-monthly

[whump-side]

Shot by an arrow compilation for @whumpers-monthly

[whumpypepsigal]

Dunkirk (2017): “I can’t see.”

[iolausian-fields]

𝗫𝗲𝗻𝗮: 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗿 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 s2e18 - Blind Faith

[whumpers-monthly]

Issue no 28:

Falling

From a moving vehicle, from a building, out of a window, from a tree... Stumbling and collapsing doesn't count, but I will count it if your whumpee faceplants.

This prompt was submitted by an anon.

Thank you very much for this prompt anon!

Share your best posts with us and especially with anon. Tag your posts with #whumpers-monthly and #issue no 28   If you make a gifset for the prompt, please also add the tag #whumpedit  

If you already made a post that fits this prompt, reblog that post and tag @whumpers-monthly

Please add the name of the whumpee and the movie or show your content is from.

[silvermoon-scrolls]

The Sentinel 1x05 Cypher

Blair gets kidnapped by a psychotic serial killer.

[aceofwhump]

The Silencing starring Nikolaj Coster-Waldau

For @whumpers-monthly Shot with an arrow

[erdarielthewhumper]

For @whumpers-monthly's prompt "Collapse"

Character: Meldie (OC) Word count: 2802 Summary: The mercenary company Meldie belongs to is decimated in an ambush and she is injured. She joins together with two other survivors, aiming to make their way to the nearest city. Tropes: Battle/action whump, arrow wounds, broken bones, stubborn whumpee, female whumpee, (technically also multiple whumpees). A/N: I have some thoughts for where the story goes from here, so if I have the energy and inspiration to, and if people seem interested, I may write continuation to this

***

It was a shitty day to begin with. The mud was at places so deep that even the horses struggled, let alone the footsoldiers. They'd been marching since early morning; where they were bound, Meldie did not know and didn't care to ask. The company's captain ordered, and so she followed. So followed they all.

Right now she was helping push a supply wagon through the mud. On dry ground, the pair of mules harnessed in front of it would have had no trouble pulling it, but now it took the help of two strong warriors to move it at any reasonable place. And when it got stuck in some deeper mud bit, four more to help get it out.

She was sweaty, and exhausted, and very annoyed with the damned cart and the mud that had by now filled her boots. There was no room for thought in her mind, no room for vigilance. The only thing she paid attention was the drumbeat keeping pace, the side of the wagon against her shoulder, making sure the wheels moved forward after every step. She never even noticed they entered the canyon.

It wasn't the thunder of falling rocks that shook her from that trance. It was the screams that followed. Something swished right past her head. She looked, and saw a half-burned arrow sticking out of the tarp thrown over the wagon. The tarp was beginning to smoke.

The troops were in chaos, now. She heard one of the officers shouting orders, but could not make up the words from the general noise. More rocks and arrows rained from above. The edges of the canyon were high, the angle far too steep for the company to be able to fire anything back.

She threw herself against the canyon wall, hoping that the slight ledge just above would protect her from rocks. But she couldn't stay there, not for long. The canyon was a death-trap; she'd have to get out, that was the only way to survive.

Keeping near the edge, she darted forward, pushing the milling mass of other mercenaries out of her way. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a falling rock, and leapt aside just in time. Something else fell to the neck of a soldier a few feet away and exploded. Meldie was far enough that the fire did not scorch her, but she felt shrapnel clatter off her breastplate and stick into her arm. But no matter. She had to go on.

And then she came to the end of the canyon. It was cut off. Of course. Huge boulders and tree trunks were piled on top of each other. There were others already climbing it, trying to get away, but arrows rained on them. Bodies littered the obstacle, some dead, some dying, some still trying to crawl on. Others, still alive, were pulled down as their comrades grabbed anything they could reach to pull themselves up.

But Meldie was fast and agile, avoiding the grasping hands and kicking legs. She took care not to pull anyone else down herself. Her life wasn't worth that much more than theirs.

Finally she reached the top, and was about to begin the careful climb down. Something hit her hard in the thigh. At first she didn't even register the pain, just the impact, but that alone pushed her off-balance, and she lost her grip and tumbled down until she got caught in the branches of one of the trees in the barricade.

She struggled free and dropped the remaining distance to the ground. She got to her feet and ran. As soon as the canyon opened up to properly level ground again, she dove off the road, breaking through bramble bushes and the lash-like branches of young trees into the cover of the woods.

There she picked her path instincitvely, by the tricks that she had learned as a child long ago. The forest was old, the trees grew thick and shadowed the sun so that in many places smaller plantes couldn't compete and moving was easy. She found the paths made by animals and followed them, deep enough that she doubted anyone would pursue her.

Her heartbeat slowed again as adrenaline ran out. Pain returned, the ache of forming bruises and sting of little scrapes and cuts, and a stabbing pain in her thigh, so bad she could hardly walk anymore.

She looked down. The back half of a warbow arrow was sticking out of her right thigh. The blood-coated tip and a few inches of the shaft stuck out from the other side. Fuck.

She needed somewhere to stop and rest. The bubbling flow of a small stream somewhere not too far away came to her ears, cheerful and inviting. She limped towards the sound.

The stream's water was very cold, but it was clear and fairly clean. She fell to her knees beside it and drank.

But the wound needed attention. She shifted position, fashioned something like a tourniquet out of her belt, braced her back against a rock by the side of the stream, grasped the bloody shaft near the tip, and began to pull it out. It was slow work, and painful, but finally she got it out.

She cut the leg of her pants near the entry and exit wounds and washed them with water from the brook. The wounds on the skin seemed almost like cuts, thanks to the broad shape of the arrowhead.

She pulled on a loose thread on her shirt until she had gathered a good length of thread, and cut it off with a knife. The brooch that fastened her cloak was of elven make, one of the few such items she still had left, made of thin metal wire, but of material so strong it lasted just as well as the thicker wrought iron brooches many others wore. Carefully she began to tease the needle of the brooch off the rest of the thing, careful not to break or twist the loop that attached it, until at last the two pieces were separate.

She put her thread through the loop in the brooch pin and got to work stitching the wounds. Twice she blacked out from the pain, but at last she finished. It was crude, amateurish work, but it was better than bleeding to death.

And now, she had to find shelter for the night.

****

Elves need less rest than many other species, but nonetheless Meldie only woke at sunrise. She still felt exhausted. Everything hurt, from the arrow wound to the shrapnel cuts in her arm (they hadn't bled much so she'd just pulled out any pieces she could get a grip on and left it at that) to the various other scrapes and bruises. And she was hungry. Not that she could do anything about that; she'd thrown her pack on the wagon she'd been pushing forward, and hadn't thought to grab it when things had went to shit.

She wondered what had happened to their comrades. Had anyone else escaped? Had everyone been killed, or had some been taken captive?

She had liked the company well enough, and captain Raghesh was a good man. And she had sworn an oath of loyalty to it upon joining. Could she really abandon them all, like none of that meant anything? Could she go on her way and leave them to whatever fate had claimed them?

No. Of course not. She had to go back, at least to check to see whether there was anyone still alive that the enemies might have left for dead. And if there wasn't, well, she could always plunder what supplies remained in usable condition. She'd have more use for them than the dead did.

****

She hadn't really understood the magnitude of what had happened the day before until she returned to the canyon. Blood and scorch marks were everywhere, corpses still strewn about wherever they had fallen. It had been a massacre. Guessing by the amount of corpses she could see, at least half of the company of two hundred mercenaries had met their end here.

The barricade had been left where it was, and it took her an hour and a lot of swearing to get over it.

She went from body to body, but all were lifeless and long since gone cold. She took up a halberd from the hand of one, and leaned on it as she walked. Ten bodies, twenty, all dead, a few she recognized. She went on. Twenty-five dead, thirty, thirty-five.

One of the supply wagons, wheels stuck in the mud, was left fairly intact, and underneath it she thought she saw a dark lump. When she got closer and dropped to her knees by the wagon, she saw it was three figures. Two were still breathing.

The dead one was an officer whose name she couldn't recall. Half-elven, really quite young (or so Meldie thought; it was often hard to tell with those who were part elf and part something else) probably the typical story of a misfit bastard child ran off to the world to seek his fortune, but she'd never acually asked.

One of the living was Irk'adl, the second in command. Half her face was covered with burns, but Meldie could not at a glance see any other injuries. Her breathing was heavy, but regular. She was asleep, slumped against one of the wagon wheels.

In her arms lay captain Raghesh. His breaths came in harsh rasps. He was missing his chestplate, though the rest of his armor was still intact. His left arm was broken, twisted into an odd angle.

"Captain!" Meldie said urgently.

He stirred, opening his eyes and shifting to look at Meldie. The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

"Should've known that of all my soldiers, you'd manage to stay alive." Then his face darkened, and he glanced at the half-elf by his side. "Saran?" he asked.

Meldie shook her head quietly. Captain Raghesh closed his eyes and fell back down.

Meldie reached for him and pulled him out from under the cart. She lifted him up to the back of it, and began rummaging through the various packs and crates in search of medical supplies. It had clearly been plundered already, but she managed to find something that looked right.

"Poor boy", the captain said quietly. "I as good as raised him, you know."

"Saran?" Meldie asked, pulling out bandages and herb pouches.

"Mmh. Before I became a captain. Long before. I was in Lord Erril's army, back then", he said as if Meldie was supposed to know who he meant. "Had been, for a few years. I was a young man myself, but he was really just a kid. Took him under my wing. Showed him the ropes. Then Allorath fell, the war ended. But fighting was what we knew best. I didn't care to go back to the farm anymore, and I don't think he had anything to go back to. So we took our swords and our shields and went looking for whoever'd pay us to use them."

He went on, but Meldie barely listened. She eased his broken arm out of the armor and the arming jacket, set it as best she could and splinted it. His chest was dark with bruises, and from the pained breathing she guessed he had broken ribs, but there was little she could do at the moment.

"Do you know if anyone else here is alive?" she asked after a while.

"No idea. Probably not. They captured everyone, led them off. I think they took us for corpses. How did you survive?"

"I ran", Meldie confessed, grimacing.

"And you came back."

"I did. I can't forsake my oath so lightly. I had to see if anyone was still alive. I could go and check the rest of the canyon, to make sure."

Captain Raghesh smiled a little. "You do that. I'll wait here."

She found no one else alive. She also checked the carts and wagons for useful supplies while she was at it. They had all been ransacked, but a lot of the stuff was still there. The enemy had probably only taken such valuable and useful things as were easy to carry and they had need for.

So she took a crossbow for herself, and a quiver, and a larger sack of bolts on top of that. She took food, too, and a couple of filled waterskins. She found her shield, left on the half-burned cart where it had been, and strapped it to her arm.

When she returned, Irk'adl was awake. She'd gotten a small campfire going and was cooking something on it. She glanced up at Meldie, and nodded sharply.

"No one alive", she reported.

"Figured so", said the captain. "But I suppose it was worth checking.

"At least we know for sure, now."

Meldie dropped on the ground by the fire, grimacing as pain shot through her injured leg at the movement. Irk'adl handed her a bowl without a word. She'd made a sort of porridge out of dried meat and hardtack that had been broken into crumbs. Nothing fancy, but filling enough to keep them going for a while.

"So, what now?" Meldie asked after a while.

Captain Raghesh shook his head slowly. "The Crimson Gryphons are no more. It's over, there's no rebuilding the company from this." He lifted his gaze, and looked Meldie in the eye. "Lauremeldo Sunblade, I release you from your oath. You made it to me, but you made it to me as the captain of the Gryphons, representative of the mercenary company. I cannot hold you to it anymore. You too, Rigansdaugther Irk'adl of Greymountain."

"I'm not going anywhere for now", said Irk'adl with a grim but fond smile.

"Me neither. We might as well stick together for the time being", Meldie said. "But "Sunblade"? Wherever did you get that?"

"I know neither your kin nor your home, and I needed something to make it sound right."

Meldie shook her head. It seemed so pointless. But Sunblade it was, then.

****

They traveled northward for two days. There was a city there, and they still had enough money between them to probably get a room for a few nights from some cheaper inn. Meldie kept it to herself, but she also hoped the money would stretch to buying the services of some healer. Or that some temple in the city was inclined to charity. Captain Raghesh was in a bad way, and Meldie doubted he'd survive very long without help. And maybe a healer could keep Irk'adil from losing sight in her left eye completely.

Her own injuries she could manage with. Walking was very painful, and at the end of the day she was always left far more exhausted than she'd have liked, but she could manage. Even if she always felt like the injured leg was about to give out under her, well, she had the halberd to lean on, so she was able to go on anyway.

They'd probably get to the city within a day or two. Where then, that was another question, but it could wait until they were in the city.

Meldie was keeping watch tonight. Really, it had been Irk'adl's turn, but despite her exhaustion, Meldie hadn't been able to sleep from the pain, so she'd offered to keep watch instead. The campfire had gone out a while ago, and the cold wind made her shiver.

Something moved in the darkness. At first she just heard the rustle of bushes and saw a flash of movement. The second time she saw a humanoid figure.

"Who's there?" she called out.

No answer. The figure crept closer. She heard more rustling from other directions.

"Just so you know, I have a crossbow. Unless you tell me who you are and on what business, I will shoot!"

Still nothing. She waited a heartbeat longer, then seized her crossbow and fired. She heard a cry of pain, and at the same time, the rustling turned louder, into the sound of several people rushing at the camp.

"Ambush!" she cried, springing to her feet and hoping that was enough to rouse the others.

There was no time to load a second bolt into the crossbow, so she drew her sword instead and charged the first attacker she saw. She faintly registered that they had some kind of a uniform on, though it was too dark to make it out. Metal clashed on metal as her sword glanced off the man's armor. She brought her sword back and lunged forward, thrusting the sword into the open face of the helmet.

Pain lanced through her injured leg. She pulled back as her opponent fell, and whirled around, but halfway through charging at the next, her leg gave out. She collapsed to the ground with a cry.

She tried to scramble back up, but someone stepped heavily on her back. She tried to roll away or shrug it off, but didn't have the strength anymore. Then something hard hit the back of her head and everything went black.

[astaldis]

Issue No 25: Blinded - You're brave because they broke you, yet broken still you breathe

@whumpers-monthly

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Whumpee: Cahir

Caretaker: Fringilla

Published: 2023-05-31, Completed: 2023-06-24

Words: 12,480 Chapters: 7/7

Summary: Post Season 2: After their lie is uncovered by Emhyr var Emreis, Cahir and Fringilla are arrested and thrown into the dungeons - in the same cell. With only one bed. First they bicker and bitch and blame each other for their failure, but this changes drastically when Cahir is tortured, and badly so, and Fringilla has to take care of him.

Excerpt from Chapter 3 - She′d hold your hand as you shook in the middle of the night:

"'m sorry," he whispers hoarsely and with difficulty. "The darkness— I - I can't see you."

"What are you talking about, Cahir?" she asks, surprised. "It's not that dark. And I'm right here. Just open your eyes and take a good look."

"It is in blindness that we find our true strength," he murmurs instead, his eyes still closed, so softly that she has to strain her ears to understand the words. A single tear rolls down his cheek.

Fringilla's eyes grow wide with horror. Now she recognises the words. It is one of the slogans they preach at the Church of the Great Sun. In honour of the first priest of the cult who, according to legend, when the sun suddenly turned black and people started to panic fearing the end of the world was neigh, stared right into the black sun until the blackness disappeared. He went blind for the rest of his life but his sacrifice to the gods saved the continent. Or so it is said ... But they cannot, they did not—

"Cahir, what—" She does not finish her question as the bitter truth is dawning on her. That is why he never really looked at her. Not because he was embarrassed about the physical proximity, but because he cannot see. The bastards not only beat him up. They also blinded him.

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47540179

[whump-collector]

Eamon Farren as Cahir in The Witcher 2x03

For @whumpers-monthly Issue no 21: Fake execution