#torture implied

[stoic-whumpee]

Prompt #115

“What did Whumper do to you, Whumpee?”

“They taught me how to be good.”

[whumpy-bi]

Whumper Dialogue

“I’d hurry up, Caretaker! Whumpee only looks like they can take a little bit more.”

[jordanstrophe]

What about a whumper turned whumpee

Can do!

CW: Whumper turned whumpee, torture very lightly implied, vengeful caretaker

part 2

It had been a week since Caretaker took Whumpee from them. They were thankful they weren't there when they came, knowing what Caretaker was capable of. They were ruthless and angry, especially with the condition they had left Whumpee in. 

So Whumper packed their bags, said goodbye to their burned down home, and left. They were almost excited, a fresh start, a new town and opportunities. With the key in hand, they cracked the door open and slumped their bags on the floor, their hand fumbling for the lightswitch after they shut the door.

The small table lamp clicked on, Whumper's breath stopped when they saw the silhouette of two legs crossed in the chair. The figure slowly cocked its head to the side as a quiet chuckle came from the darkness. The figure stood, stepping into the light as Whumper shakily took a step back.

"No... No that's not possible! You couldn't have found me, not after every precaution I took...!" Whumper rasped.

Caretaker just smiled with a shrug, their hand slowly reaching for the lamp as they flicked it off, the room crippling into darkness.

Whumper gasped as they spun around, blindly feeling for the doorknob with desperation. As soon as their fingertips grazed the handle, two hands shot out around their lips and waist, throwing them back as they hit the floor with a muffled grunt. 

Then they heard distant chuckling surrounding them, before a clear and direct voice whispered in their ear- 

"You should have never hurt them"

next

Tag list: @grizzlie70  @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog  @whump-it-like-its-hot  @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @princessofonward @whatwhumpcomments  @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @mascmasochist @hamiltonwhumpdump  @shokuhoemisaki @as-a-matter-of-whump @whumpasaurus101

o(^∀^*)o Thank you for reading!

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: Thirty-Nine

The dust and smoke that filled the air made Bucky’s eyes stream and his lungs burnt. It was horrific. And he could only imagine as he hurled himself into the quinjet for extraction. 

He was, as he took a headcount, the last one. Except. He scanned the assembled faces, all dust coated and coughing, once, twice. Three times. And his heart sank even as it pounded against his ribs. 

“Where’s Y/N?” he demanded, wheezing. 

And around him, several faces flickered into panic. They had thought you were with Bucky. That you’d gone after him when everything went to shit. And Bucky had thought that everyone else was making sure you were clear. Out of the way. 

But as they shot over the rubble. Looking for anything that might flag them down, there was nothing. No trace of you. 

You were gone.

________

The first thing you heard was water. Not steady running water. Like a sewer or some body of water like a creek. But steady dripping water. Like a tap. And it echoed. 

You lay still, listening. Trying to sense. To see if anyone was near you. And if they were, what were their intentions. What was near. 

But there was nothing. There was no one. Or, if there was anyone, they were too far away from you for you to sense them. Carefully, you opened your eyes. 

The room. You were pretty sure it was a room. Had a concrete floor. You could feel it under your cheek. And your hands. And it was dark. Almost totally dark but for a razor thin shaft of light from the other side of a door. You take a deep breath and sit up slowly, mentally assessing your aches and pains. 

Your head hurt. A lot. And you aren’t sure if you’d been conked in the head or drugged. Just like you can’t tell if you have cotton mouth or you’re dehydrated. But nothing seems broken. That’s good. And you can’t feel blood. At least nothing too much. So. Shock wasn’t imminent. And that was a comfort. It helped to stem the tide of panic. 

Panic was going to be the enemy. 

And so, you climbed very carefully to your feet. It was unlikely, if you’d been captured, that the room was booby trapped. You’d do them no good dead. And SHIELD wasn’t going to negotiate with them for a body. So you put an arm out a head of you and tried to figure out how big the room was. Was it all concrete? Was there metal? Was there a grate? Anything you could exploit. And most importantly, where the fuck was that dripping water? Your watch was gone and it was the only indication that you had of passing time. As irritating as it was. 

The room, you decided, was roughly the size of a closet. Big enough to pace a little. Metal walls… possibly lead lined. No cot and a hole in the floor that was evidently a bathroom. No grating. At least none you could feel along the walls with your hands. “Damn,” you mutter. There wasn’t going to be any easy way out of this one. And someone had had the foresight to check your pockets. You were unarmed. They’d even taken your dog tags. 

So with nothing else to do, you sat. Directly across from the door. And waited. 

__________

Bucky felt like a caged tiger. 

“She’s not dead!” he snapped slamming his vibranium fist down on the table. “You know she’s not!”

Steve shot him a sympathetic look “Buck-”

“She’s not dead! She’s Hitler’s fucking wet dream. If they got a hold of her-”

Sam, who’d been quiet since they realized you were missing pushed himself off the wall and folded his arms, “So where would we start?”

“Anywhere!” he demanded. “She’s not- she can’t.” Tears start stinging the backs of his eyes and he can’t shake the mental images that are running through his head. The things that they would do to break you. The ways that they would control you. And he can’t understand how anyone can be so calm right now. He can’t understand why he can’t be calm. You need him to be calm. You need him to tear the world apart. 

“He’s right,” Tony said exhaling slowly. “If they do have her, we could be in for a world of trouble.”

Steve nodded and looked from Bucky to Sam. There’s no way around it. They have to look for you. They have to find you. Even if all they ever find is a body. 

________

You heard footsteps outside the door and shivered. You’d been feeling. Reaching out. Looking for some sort of emotion. Anything to give you a cue. 

And now that you had it, fear settled into your belly. Ice cold and hard. 

The man on the other side of the door was… nothing. He felt nothing. There was no anger. No curiosity. No resignation. And when you heard a key in the lock you stood. You weren’t sure what you were going to do. What good it was going to do you to fight. But you were going to. 

If you were going to die anyway, you were going to die fighting. 

But you never had a chance. 

The door swung open and the light was blinding. You just barely blocked the first swing when you felt something. A needle, penetrate the skin of your neck. And then you knew nothing. Unconsciousness flowed over you like an unstoppable tide. 

_________

Bucky paced. 

He couldn’t be still. And Lucy had long given up following him. She laid on a blanket Natasha had put in the corner and watched Bucky accusingly. Like she somehow held him personally responsible for the lack of a warm lap to lay in. And a lack of mom to tell her she was pretty. 

The lack of you was palpable. His throat burned and his eyes stung. But he refused to leave until he knew where you were. Until you were safe. Until you were asleep on his chest where you should be. 

“Bucky?”

“What?” he snapped, turning. Making Natasha flinch.

“Stop,” she said softly. “Go get something to eat. Get some water.”

When he scowled at her, she sighed, “Y/N would never forgive me if I let you and Lucy starve to death.”

And when his glare intensified, she cringed. She hadn’t been on that mission. It had been you. Bucky to watch your back. And a handful of other agents. It was supposed to be simple. But it wasn’t. 

“Bucky,” she said softly, “She’s going to need you in fighting shape.”

And that had done it. He crumpled like a wad of paper and when Natasha caught him, his weight bore her slowly, relentlessly towards the ground. 

It was like missing a limb. Worse than missing a limb. It was like his soul had left his body. And he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, reckon with feeling this way for the rest of his life.

[ask-gilbert-and-ludwig]

Gilbert! What do you think about the kid?

Gilbert tore out a clump of grass before letting the wind carry it out of his hand. It had been many weeks since he’d first came here, and he knew this would soon end. They would realize he had failed his mission at some point, and one day soon he wouldn’t be allowed back, and he’d never see Ludwig again.

Right now, Ludwig was lying on his chest taking a nap. They had played football again and Ludwig had gotten tired, so they had decided to lay down in the grass. Gilbert couldn’t sleep though.

He was still having trouble admitting to himself that he did care about Ludwig, that he felt warm when he called him his brother, that when he was chained up and suffering that remembering the times he’d spent with Ludwig made it slightly more bearable.

But it was hard to fully let him in. What if he hurt him? What if he found out what kind of person he really was and leave him? He couldn’t handle that. So, when Ludwig had said ‘you’re like the brother I always wanted.’ Gilbert had simply forced a smile, and ruffled Ludwig’s hair.

He had never had a brother either, the only family he had had was his father, and he was only family in blood. If Gilbert were still alive he would change his last name to divide himself even further from that monster. For the longest time he had told himself he was his own family.

But now when the word family was brought up he thought of Ludwig.

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Okay so admittedly I haven’t a clue on how to properly draw bruises but here he is. My baby Ene, sweet little defiant and angry angel.

[composeregg]

You recall my saying I was writing a rated-E explicit torture fic yesterday? Well! Best lines of the night! (That I feel are valid to share publicly)

-

[Image id: a screenshot of a document that reads: And there. That’s the terror they want. Ice dripping into his veins, needlepoint injections as he freezes. As he becomes a solid block of crystalized fear.

They will sculpt him into a monument dedicated to the wounds he’s inflicted sevenfold, and then they will make him shatter.]

[carnivalsoration]

🎭: How they feel about moirails who kiss/pail/do uncharacteristically pale things together ⚔: Their worst memory from an ex-quadrant

🎭: gonna be honest, it makes me feel a way, and that way isn’t entirely pleasant. you fuckers can do what you want, but i really don’t wanna know about it. call me repressed or whatever the hell, but i try and keep my unsavory shit in private, so it’s just courtesy to do the same

⚔: i have more moments than i’d like to choose from, but let’s just say that seein her gettin tormented was up there and call it a night