#attempted rescue

[belovedwhump]

"Stay back-

I don't wanna hurt you."

It's a trap!"

Please don't hurt me."

You're not real."

Please... Please, stay back."

I don't wanna have to do this."

I need you to get out of here."

Save the others! Just leave me here."

[melpomenelamusa]

Night of Blindness and Death

~Original story~

Feathers and Flames Masterlist

WoW's Birthday Whump Event 2026 DAY 5: Blindfolded/Attempted rescue/"Help" DAY 7: Fantasy whump

CW: Major character death!!! Nonhuman whumpee, nonhuman caretaker, nonhuman whumper, royal whump, blood, referenced past kidnapping, whump, fantasy violence. No happy ending this time :c

Teklómenes couldn’t see anything.

From the moment he woke, he found himself surrounded by darkness.

Darkness had never frightened him. In fact, he thrived in it, saw through it more keenly than any drakón. It was his refuge, his stronghold, the realm where his silent wings, sharpened senses, and blade-like talons made him sovereign.

But when he opened his eyes and found only void, as though sun and moon had been devoured by the abyss, fear did not take long to appear.

A thick strip of cloth wrapped around his face, sealing the world from sight, knotted so tight behind his head he could not loosen it, no matter how he twisted or scraped against his shoulders. His hands were tied behind his back. His wings and legs were bound as well, coarse rope preventing him from doing anything beyond useless struggles.

He sat on cold stone, his spine pressed against what felt like a broad pillar. More rope cinched his chest, fastening him to it and leaving no chance to escape.

The young avian remembered nothing. No capture, no path that had led him here.

Have I been kidnapped again? he wondered, irritation flickering beneath the fear as he gave his bonds one last, useless pull.

Sight was gone, but hearing remained.

There was no wind around. Was he underground or trapped inside somewhere? No crackle of lamps or torches reached him. Even the conjured magical light orbs produce a soft hum that was absent in that place.

There were no footsteps, no distant voices, no animals’ sounds. Silence lay thick as a graveyard. Were his captors hiding him? What forsaken place had they chosen?

And above all, for what purpose?

Time stretched, empty and unmoving. No villain arrived to bore him with threats and evil monologues, nor rescuer broke the stillness.

Trapped in darkness, it was hard to understand his surroundings, and with no external stimulus, boredom began to consume him before anything else could.

“Is anyone there?” he called, craving a voice, a snarl, even an insult. Anything.

If he had been truly taken, it seemed his captors didn’t care whether he spoke or made noise, since they hadn’t bothered to gag him. Teklómenes wasn’t sure if that was mercy or neglect.

Perhaps no one would hear me anyway, he thought. The idea only brought more questions, and as the silence continued to drip by without pause, unease curdled into anxiety. 

“Is anyone there?!” he shouted. “Help! HELP!”

His voice echoed back, louder than it should have been.

But this time, something answered.

Subtle at first, Teklómenes thought he could make out a sound in the distance, behind him. It seemed like something heavy dragging across the ground, slow, but getting closer.

“Who’s there?!” he demanded, forcing steadiness as he turned his head in that direction. Whatever was approaching didn’t sound like human footsteps, nor the beating wings of drakones or avians, much less the gallop of centaurs. What kind of creature moved like that?

The dragging halted. Even blind, Teklómenes felt its presence, close now, lingering. A hiss cut the silence, low and thin, before it moved again, circling him like a predator savoring its prey.

His breathing faltered as his anxiety mounted. Not seeing—not knowing—unraveled him. He couldn’t tell its shape, its purpose, not even what it was. 

He fought his bonds again, but they held firm as before. The pillar bit into his spine, grinding against his wings.

Panic surged. Each breath grew tighter, thinner. The blindfold seemed to press inward, crushing his skull. The mysterious creature crept closer, dragging toward him and hissing.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?!” Teklómenes cried, his voice breaking as tears burned beneath the blindfold.

Suddenly, cold and bony fingers seized his jaw, forcing his face upward.

“Scream,” a voice murmured, breath warm against his skin.

He did.

Teklómenes remained trapped in the darkness.

His wrists burned from relentless struggling against coarse rope. His throat was shredded from screaming. The blindfold clung damply to his face, heavy with tears.

His captor neither spoke nor touched him again; it dragged itself away, abandoning him to the void once more. Time had passed. How much, he could not tell.

The avian wept, helpless and afraid. His memories still refused to return, and with no means of escape, he could only wait for rescue or death, whichever found him first. But the waiting itself gnawed at him, and silence and uncertainty wore his fraying mind thinner with every passing moment.

But then, after what felt like an agonizing eternity, he heard a voice in the distance.

“Teté!”

For a heartbeat, he thought he was hallucinating. Perhaps he really had gone mad, and now he heard Freyra’s voice as a soothing echo in his memories, lulling him before his death. Was he dying?

But the call persisted, urgent and distressed.

“Teté, can you hear me? Where are you?!”

Freyra. She was real.

“H-help!” he cried, his voice cracking, hoarse from strain. “Freyra, I’m here!”

It never crossed his mind that it could be a trap.

When he felt her familiar hands working at the ropes, relief drowned every other thought with the relief of finally escaping his captivity, the hope of seeing daylight again and returning home.

Once his hands came loose, he instinctively reached for the blindfold, but strong fingers caught his wrists.

“Don’t take it off,” Freyra said.

Her tone brooked no argument, though something else—fear, perhaps—threaded beneath it. Teklómenes didn’t understand, but his thoughts were too scattered to question. He gave a small nod and pushed himself upright on trembling legs.

They had barely begun to move when he heard it again. The hiss. The dragging. Approaching them fast.

“Something’s coming!” he gasped, hands flying toward the blindfold again.

“Don’t look!” Freyra snapped.

Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him against her, forcing him to turn away from the mysterious presence.

A choked cry tore from her throat, and at the same instant, a shriek—sharp and inhuman—split the air, laced with furious hissing.

Then the dragging sound faded and the cavern fell deathly still.

Teklómenes froze, scarcely daring to breathe. Freyra did not speak. She did not move either.

“Freyra… what’s happening?” he whispered.

No one answered.

He shifted, trying to pull free from the drakona’s grip, but her arms held him, rigid and unyielding like stone. He twisted sharply, taking advantage of his small size and slipping from her grasp.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

His outstretched hand met uneven stone. He reached again, feeling around, and got the same result: a smooth, hard texture.

Despite Freyra’s warning, curiosity won and he pulled the blindfold away.

In that moment, Teklómenes felt his heart stop.

Before him stood a statue, Freyra, carved in flawless detail—every piercing, every braid in her hair, every scale etched with impossible precision. Her face was frozen in worry, lifeless eyes fixed on something beyond him. Her arms reached forward, as though still holding someone who was no longer there.

She gave off no warmth, did not move, did not breathe—her heart did not beat…

Teklómenes staggered back, gaze darting wildly.

A vast cavern surrounded him, its towering walls washed in the pale full moonlight. All around him stood a collection of stone statues—humans, drakones, centaurs, avians, beasts of different kinds—some were whole, others worn, broken and scattered across the ground. All of them bore the same expression: terror, anguish or despair, locked in stone for all eternity.

With that evidence, understanding came swiftly.

Teklómenes swallowed hard, forcing down the rising sob, and pulled the blindfold back over his eyes.

It was a Gorgon’s nest.

His stomach twisted violently, his emotions erupting inside him.

That means Freyra…

No.

That Freyra is…

Don’t.

That Freyra is dead.

A single glance into the eyes of the half-serpent monster would turn you to stone.

The avian felt pain seized his throat, choking him.

And beneath it… Rage.

He felt the urge to kill something.

Blind once more, Teklómenes dropped to his knees and searched the ground until his fingers closed around a jagged shard of stone, sharp enough to cut flesh and bone. He gripped it tightly, knuckles whitening, and stilled himself, listening. Not long after, he heard it.

A hiss. Dragging. Not so far away.

He moved toward it, guided only by sound, careful not to strike the other statues—the monster’s victims—until he could hear and feel its presence nearby.

He didn’t think.

He lunged at his enemy with his wings spread. Their bodies collided and chaos erupted. Shrieks tore through the cavern, mingling with furious hisses. Feathers and scales scattered.

Teklómenes’ claws found soft and slick flesh and sink in it, ripping. Small, sharp fangs pierced his arms like needles. Bony fingers clawed at his face, trying to rip off his blindfold. He struck them away with his improvised weapon, slashing wildly, then drove the sharp stone forward again and again, stabbing his opponent’s body.

Savage cries echoed through the cavern. Warm blood soaked Teklómenes’ hands, splattering and running across his face. His heart pounded wildly, pumping adrenaline and fury through his body.

He didn’t stop, not until the body beneath him fell still, not until its breath ceased, not until he knew it was dead.

Teklómenes staggered upright on trembling legs.

Even dead, a Gorgon’s gaze could still petrify.

The only way to be sure of survival was to destroy the head.

A drakón would burn it to ash, a distant thought whispered.

But he had no fire.

Instead, he found a heavy stone and lifted it high to crush the monster’s head. A sickening crack split the silence.

He wiped the blood from his hands clumsily, then removed the blindfold.

The gore-splattered ground made the avian look away, drop to his knees, and vomit what little remained in his stomach. Once emptied, he forced himself up, dragging his feet back to where Freyra stood—now nothing more than another abandoned statue in that nest of death.

Standing before her, he slipped once more into her arms, embracing her cold body, and cried.

His screams reverberated throughout the cave. Thick tears streamed down his face, washing blood and dust from his cheeks.

Completely alone in that cemetery of dead stone, Teklómenes broke down, clinging to his mother’s lifeless form.

He cried and cried until his body ached from the strain, until exhaustion consumed him and unconsciousness demanded him.

I'm gonna be honest, I cried writing this thing 😭

Taglist: @whumperofworlds @eggy16 @justabitofwhump @writinglittlepains @warmfuzz-ies

@loreleiloon @scoundrelwithboba

[libraryofwhump]

Trap II

Wow's Birthday Whump day 5 - Blindfolded/Attempted rescue/"Help!"

CWs: Burns, hanging, forced to watch, temporary character death

(Part 1 here)

Braxton wiggled his hands, trying to get himself free from the rope. Seeing Esmund struggling in the noose, gasping and choking... He had to do something. He couldn't let him die.

"It's no use. You can try all you want, but he will die." The older man looked at the flailing boy. "It's his own fault, really."

C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon.

Esmund's face was turning purple. Drool ran down his chin as he clawed at the rope. The older man turned to Braxton. "Your team is a complete joke. All of this was on the field? Pfft. Some leader you are."

Braxton glared at him. "You were the one who set the trap! How was he supposed to know?!"

"Be cognizant of his surroundings?" He looked at Esmund. His struggling was getting weaker. "Good to know for next time."

While he had his back turned, Braxton moved his hands towards the fireplace. He felt his skin burning as the rope caught fire. He began to pull and pull until eventually, the rope gave way. Almost immediately, he undid the ropes on his ankles and charged at him. He tackled the man to the ground and started raining punches on him.

The older man grabbed his arms and headbutted him, dazing him. He threw him on his back and wrapped his hands around Braxton's throat. Braxton jabbed his thumbs into his eyes, causing him to shriek. Kicking him away, he rushed to Esmund and lifted him up, hoping to give him some air.

Esmund breathed for a few seconds before the man got Braxton in a chokehold. He pulled him away and forced him to look. "Nice try. But you can't get him out of this."

"Let me go! Let me-" Braxton tried to get out of his grip, but he only tightened his hold on his neck. His stomach dropped as Esmund's movements grew weaker and weaker until eventually, he went limp.

Everything stopped. He could no longer feel the older man holding him back. All he could do was stare at his teammate. At his friend who just died in front of him.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't save him.

That man... He prevented him from saving Esmund.

He killed him.

All he could see was red.

@whumperofworlds

[geode-crystal]

“Don’t you hurt a single hair on his/her/their head.” for the prince and knight duo ❤️

-- @whumperofworlds

Hello friend! Thank you for the ask!! You get a fun little whumpy drabble lol

______________

“Don’t you touch him,” Darius snarled. “If you hurt a single hair on his head…”

He stood in front of Mianu, sword raised, using his entire body to shield Mianu’s form. Mianu was huddled as far into the corner of the tiny, dismal room as he could possibly go. He was curled in on himself, clutching at the wound in his side, his other arm lying limp on the ground. His own magic betrayed him, shadows pulsing around his bad arm. His breathing was ragged. Shallow. His face was pale. And Darius didn’t want to think about all the other injuries he had sustained.

All that damage, all because Darius hadn’t been fast enough.

But he was here now. And he wasn’t going to let anything happen to Mianu again.

The enemy soldier sneered. Their own sword was held casually at their side, tip down, practically touching the cold stone floor. An easy threat… and a sign that they were far from intimidated.

“A little late for that, don’t you think?” they drawled.

Darius bristled with fury. His own sword leveled out, pointing right at his adversary’s heart.

“Walk away,” he hissed. “Right now. Or I will ensure that everything you did to him will be unleashed on you. Tenfold.”  

The enemy only smirked. “Cute. But let’s try this: you stand aside, and allow our dear young prince to follow orders. Or I could run you through, toss you aside, and make him follow orders.”

Mianu winced. A soft cry, a pitiful hiss, passed his lips. Darius had never felt such hatred.

“Over my dead body,” Darius snarled.

The soldier laughed. “Alright. I’m flexible.”

And their sword flashed as they lunged right for Darius. Darius was only too eager to meet the challenge. Whatever happened to him didn’t matter. As long as it meant Mianu got out without any further harm.

It was his duty as a knight. And his honor as Mianu’s love.

[whumpookies]

General hospital 2012..Jason's "death"

After Jason finds Mike shot on pier 55 he is ambushed..

Jason shot in the back is pushed over the dock, Sonny after finding Mike is told about Jason being shot.

Sonny attempts to "rescue" Jason, Mike unfortunately doesn't survive his wounds leaving Sonny to inform Sam of Jason's "death"

@99point9percentwhump you owe me 😈🤣

Next scene here

[belovedwhump]

Escape to get help

Does Caretaker decide to escape to get help or is it Whumpee who convinces Caretaker to do it? (Or maybe Whumper is the one who lets Caretaker go - to see if they will actually leave Whumpee behind, and/or because they don't think Caretaker will make it)

Does the other agree to the plan or does it happen against their wishes?

Does Caretaker do it because Whumpee can't (too restrained/too injured/less opportunity) or are they just the one who gets the chance first?

Does Whumpee sacrifice themselves/create a distraction/provoke Whumper to allow Caretaker to escape?

Are they both trying to escape, but only Caretaker gets away?

Is the escape successful or a failed attempt?

If it's failed, what is the consequences/punishment?

If it's successful, is Whumpee punished?

Does Whumper notice Caretaker escaping/having escaped?

How does Whumper react to the escape, do they stay put or do they take Whumpee to some other location?

Does Whumper kill Whumpee because they no longer think the risk is worth it?

Does Whumper kill Whumpee accidentally because they get so angry/upset about Caretaker's escape?

Does it all end in a standoff/hostage situation?

Does Whumpee believe they plan will work? Does Caretaker? What about Whumper?

Does Caretaker make it to the help, or do they get lost/hurt/killed on the way?

Will Caretaker be able to help with the rescue or are they too injured?

How guilty does Caretaker feel about leaving? How guilty do they feel when they get back and see what state Whumpee is in now?

Does Whumpee feel abandoned/think Caretaker will not come back/think they'll die before Caretaker will get back with help?

If the escape is successful, is the rescue/getting-help part successful?

[whumperofworlds]

You know, I love when Caretaker is there to rescue Whumpee, but can't free them right away because they're too busy fighting Whumper.

Maybe Whumper takes advantage of this and uses Whumpee as leverage against Caretaker.

[wonderful-whump]

whumpee's team running through the base to find them, but don't see them; they dismiss whumpee as a dead body