#wow birthday whump [day 4]

[whumped-by-glitter]

WOW's Birthday Event Day 4: Electrocution / Waterboarded / "Anything but that!"

⚠️ CW: Electrocution, Waterboarding, Non-Sexual Nudity (mentioned), Torture. (please let me know if I missed anything)

A HUGE shout out to @3-2-whump for beta reading so I could get this out today!

Day 3 Here <

Youngest was dragged off. They kicked and thrashed as hard as they could, cussing the men who held them out. One of them had finally had enough of it and punched them hard in the stomach.

“Shut the fuck up and cooperate, or you’ll get worse,” the man growled harshly.

Youngest doubled over, the wind knocked out of them, and collapsed. Before they could catch their breath, they felt themselves be hoisted up again. This time Youngest complied. They knew a cracked rib would make escape more difficult, they reasoned. They needed to stay focused on getting Whumpee and getting out of here. Maybe being captured isn’t such a bad thing, they’ll find Whumpee quicker this way, right?

When the hood was finally removed, they found themselves in a small sterile room with a single table that was about 6 feet long. The handcuffs were removed but before they could struggle, they were forced down into a high back chair. Their heart sank. This looked like an interrogation room. Whumpee was nowhere to be seen.

Their arms were secured to the armrests then their ankles to the chair legs. A sickening fear emerged when the head of a leather strap appeared in their field of vision. It was pulled across their throat by a set of dexterous hands. Youngest could hear it be pushed back through a hole on the other side of their throat before being pulled uncomfortably tight. They then heard it buckle behind them. They were completely immobilized.

Youngest could hear the door open behind them open. Whoever just came in caused the men on either side them to snap to attention.

“Well, well,” a voice came low in menacing before revealing itself. “it’s not every day my enemies come crawling to me on their hands and knees,” the man sneered, settling down in chair on the opposite side of the table.

Claudio! Youngest realized. They flushed red slightly at his taunt.

“So why did you come here?” Claudio asked in a light, somewhat amused tone.

“Release me, and release Whumpee to me and I will leave you unharmed,” Youngest demanded, summoning all of the bravado they could. Even to them the words sounded weak though.

Claudio gave a hearty, deep laugh. Wiping a tear of amusement from the corner of his eye, he replied breathily “Ooh, an ultimatum, I’m terrified. Exactly what do you plan on doing when you can’t even move?”

Youngest just spat at Claudio as the man leaned in to wait for an answer to his mocking question. Youngest flashed a grin when it hit him in the face.

Claudio’s face flashed anger momentarily before returning to his bemused expression and laughter. “Feisty, aren’t we? I like it.” He nodded at a guard that then proceeded to taser Youngest.

The electricity surged through Youngest’s body. They jerked and thrashed, their body moving on its own.

“Let’s get one thing clear boy,” Claudio hissed dangerously, “you are in no position to make demands, and certainly in position to be making ultimatums. Now, where’s the rest of your team? If you’re here, the rest can’t be far.”

“Bite me! I’m not telling you a damn thing, you bastard!” Youngest snarled in defiance.

“Cut off their shirt,” Claudio ordered one of the guards, grabbing the taser from the other. They strode confidently to the others side of the table. He leaned against it, not quite directly in front of Youngest. “Listen here you little shit, you’re going to tell me what I want to know. It’s up to you how much damage you're going to sustain before then.”

 Claudio turned to the guard closest to him, nodding his head to the door, before following the guard out. “Bring me a dog,” Claudio ordered once out of earshot of his detainee.

It only took a few minutes before one of their trained attack dogs was brought to Claudio on a leash.

Claudio walked back into the interrogation room, the guard behind him had the dog in tow.

“Okay now where were we? Oh yes, ‘bite me’ I think was what you said. Say that again and Fido here will make it happen,” he gave the large Doberman a pat.

Youngest grew silent, eyes wide, flicking nervously to the muscular dog. They squirmed nervously.

“Now back to what I want know,” Claudio picked up the taser again. “Where are your friends hiding?”

Youngest flicked a glance over at the dog again, then back to Claudio. “Get fucked!” Youngest belted out, rashly. They did not want this man to know they were alone.

“Wrong answer,” Claudio chided menacingly.

The taser made contact with Youngest’s bare chest. Electricity tore through them once again. The restraints bit into their skin as their body contorted involuntarily with the current. Claudio hit them with it an additional two more times in quick succession, leaving Youngest panting for air. Their blood trickled out from under the restraints around their neck and wrists.

Before Youngest could get anything else out they were beginning unbound. Momentarily freed, they tried desperately to fight, but could not muster the strength. They were slammed to the table on their back, once again knocking the wind out of them.

Before they could recover Youngest found themselves being strapped to the table, once again completely immobile. They felt the legs of the table near their head be brought down. Youngest was now laying on an angle, their feet higher than their head. Claudio put a rag over their face, obscuring their sight.

“No, please! No! No!” Youngest screamed and struggled, realizing what was about to happen.

“You had your chance” Claudio sneered.

Youngest could hear the distinct scrape of a metal bucket against the floor. They braced themselves as best they, inhaling a deep breath.

Water began to pour over their nose and mouth. They almost instantly began to panic as the water burned going up their nose and into their throat. Their lungs began to ache then quickly burn. The breath they took in was forced out by the pain and fear. Instinctively they tried to gasp.

Gasping made it worse, so much worse. They gasped in water and wet rag, causing sheer unadulterated terror to engulf their body.

‘I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!’  Panic rushed through Youngest’s veins. The panic and sheer terror intensified as they tried to thrash, to buck, to do anything, but they couldn’t move more than arch their back an inch off of the table.

Youngest had never in their entire life had ever felt terror so raw, so all encompassing. Their lungs burned, their throat burned, their nose burned. They couldn’t move, they couldn’t scream, they couldn’t BREATHE.

Finally, blessedly the stream stopped. Youngest gasped in air, more intensely aware of how precious it was. Their face was wet from tears and water as the rag was peeled away. They coughed and sputtered.

“Where is your team? Where is Leader?” Claudio asked, grasping Youngest’s cheek, drawing blood.

Youngest could do nothing but cough and pant. They couldn’t find their voice. Their eyes were still wide with fear.

“Tsk, no answer? Okay then,” Claudio laughed cruelly. He began to put the rag back over Youngest’s face.

“N-no, please, a-anything but that,” Youngest croaked out weakly, their throat raw. They started sobbing.

“Oh, so you have an answer for me?” Claudio cooed.

“I-I came alone,” they reluctantly admitted, finally cracking.

“Oh, you have, have you?” Claudio narrowed his eyes, causing Youngest to flinch and shudder. “I would say smart boy for fessing up, but it would seem you are incredibly stupid.” Claudio gave the still bound captive a condescending cheek pat, “you pissed yourself too, you’re stupid and a coward.”

Youngest laid there, exhausted and completely embarrassed. everything from last night and today hit them all at once. The fight with leader, the run, their capture. The physical and mental exhaustion from the torture made so that they could barely lift their head.

Claudio turned away from Youngest to the guards. “Strip them, then throw them in solitary confinement.” He instructed, then glanced back at his prisoner, “if he struggles, rough him up.” Claudio left Youngest alone and vulnerable with the guards and attack dog.

Claudio’s Parting words struck deep. Youngest had nothing left in them, just exhaustion, pain, and an unbearable shame that ran so much deeper than just pissing their pants. The only thing they could think was ‘will leader even come?’

Event Prompt Post

My Event Masterlist

@whumperofworlds, @whumpsandbumps, @pigeonwhumps

[kabie-whump]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 4

Prompt: Electrocution / Waterboarded / “Anything but that!”

Additional Content: interrogation, forced betrayal, somewhat intimate whumper (lmk if i missed something I'm sleepy)

~

“No, Please! Anything but that!”

Whumper raises an eyebrow. Whumpee has shown impressive mental fortitude, even through these endless rounds of waterboarding. Although their voice is watery and they stop, coughing and choking between words, their desperation is very clear.

But they started shaking and begging the second Whumper brought out the electrodes. 

“Hm. I should have threatened this from the start,” Whumper muses, calmly clipping the wires to Whumpee’s fingertips. 

“Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll… I will tell you what you want to know! Just don’t!”

Whumper pauses at that, then pauses their preparations. They retrieve a notepad from a nearby table, poising over it with a pen in hand. “Alright then. I’m listening, darling.”

Then, Whumpee spills everything. All of their team’s secrets. Meeting locations. Passwords. The names and addresses of their family members and friends. They sob through the whole thing, but after about an hour of talking Whumper has pages full of useful information.

“Thank you, Whumpee. You were very helpful.”

“Please. Just don’t hurt them.”

“Aw. You know I can’t commit to that. But it's a cute request.”

Whumpee just sighs, squeezing their eyes closed as Whumper goes back over to them. “Can I go home now? Please.”

Whumper looks them over. They’re shivering, skin pale and almost blue-tinted. Their face is purplish from laying on the table at a slight incline for so long - feet up, head down. Their hair is half dry now from how long they talked for without any more water being poured on them.

Damn. I really wanted to hear them scream a little more.

“Y’know what? I was looking forward to testing this out,” Whumper says, fiddling with the on switch of the machine that was still hooked up to Whumpee.

Whumpee flinches hard. “No! Please!”

Whumper just places the damp towel back over Whumpee’s face, turns on the water hose, and gives them a proper dousing. They flail and cough, pulling on the restraints.

Then Whumper flicks the switch, and Whumpee lets out a piercing scream. 

“Yeah. I’m afraid I have to keep you for a while.”

[writingphoenix]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 4

I ended up being very busy these past few weeks and just have not had the time or energy to write. Anyway, this is Day 4 of @whumperofworlds's prompt event. If you want to read Day 3, you can find that here. Later today, I'll put together a masterlist. I promise I'll finish this series, even if I have to go beyond April!

Prompt: Electrocution / "Anything but that!"

Nathan dreaded the next day. The man would return and begin some sort of training for something. Nathan had no clue what. His thoughts raced with a million possibilities, each one worse than the last. At some point amid his racing thoughts, he fell asleep again.

He was still alone, thirsty, and hungry when he woke up again. By his best estimation, it had been nearly four days since he was kidnapped. Four days with only a bottle of water to drink. Four days nearly all alone in a closet with his hands cuffed together and to the floor. Four days since he had been able to stand up straight.

It wasn’t long before he heard the lock on the door scrape and he pushed himself up into a crouch. He didn’t know what to expect but it seemed to be the best option to protect himself. The man didn’t look at him as he walked in. Instead, he unlocked the chain from the floor and held it like a leash. Nathan stood up unsteadily and carefully followed as the man led him from the room.

The rest of the basement and the main floor of the house were surprisingly normal. All the shades were drawn but Nathan could see light shining through the edges. It was the first actual sign he had of the time of day. He didn’t see any clocks around to tell him the time.

The man led him to a table in the kitchen. There was a plate of food there, scrambled eggs still steaming. Nathan’s stomach growled. 

“Kneel,” the man said. Nathan didn’t let himself think about it as he sank to his knees. He was already unsteady, it would be easier this way. The man dropped the chain attached to his handcuffs and disappeared from Nathan’s sight. He returned a few seconds later with a plate of some gross-looking mash and a collar. Nathan’s heart dropped at the sight.

It wasn’t even a regular collar, it was a shock collar. Given everything that had happened so far, he had no doubt it was for him. The man put the plate on the floor then secured the collar around Nathan’s neck. Nathan didn’t dare move. Then there was a metallic click and Nathan realized that the collar was secured with a padlock. It was locked on him and whatever was going on, he was no more than a dog to the man who had kidnapped him.

The man sat down without a word and began to eat from the plate on the table. Nathan looked at the plate sitting on the floor in front of him. It was a pile of mashed up food. Nathan thought he saw bits of broccoli and maybe some pieces of chicken. There were no utensils so he reached out with his finger to grab some.

His body lit up with pain as the shock collar went off. He was lying on the ground next to the plate, his hand scrabbling at his neck trying to stop it. 

“I didn’t give you permission to eat. Kneel and try again,” the man said. His calm tone sent shivers down Nathan’s spine.

He realized he was shaking as he forced himself back to kneeling. He stayed there and let the tears roll unchecked down his cheeks as he stared at the plate in front of him. It looked so disgusting and yet he was so hungry that he would have done nearly anything to eat it. But he couldn’t take another shock. No, anything but that. He thought another one might kill him.

Then finally the man gave the order to eat and he didn’t hesitate. A few days ago, the taste would have made him gag. Now he barely even noticed it and instead let the mash fill the hollow ache in his stomach.

[i-eat-worlds]

Wow Birthday Whump Day 4: Electrocution / Waterboarded / "Anything but that!"

Misery for Joseph!

Content: torture, a little crack-y but not really, shock collars

Joseph drew another ragged breath, eyes gazing up ruefully at Darkstar’s sidekick. The towel was heavy on his cheeks, and every breath pulled more water into his lungs. Breathing in water wasn’t the issue-superpowers and all that-but he had to keep up the farce, lest his torturers find out.

“You ready to talk yet?” Their voice sneered. “I know you can’t do this forever.” More water drenched the towel, and Joseph tried to hold his breath like he was actually drowning.

He could breathe. It was fine. He could breathe. It was fine.

Pneumonia would set in a couple days, there was no way he’d be able to avoid it. Hopefully, they’d give up before then. The sidekick pulled the towel off, and he pretended to pant desperately. “It’ll stop. All you have to do is tell me the names of your team. It’s easy.”

They shoved the towel back over his mouth and nose, wrenched his head back, and attempted to drown him again. Joseph did his best to keep the fear alive in his eyes.

There was the sound of the cell door creaking open, and another person walked in. The sidekick removed the towel, and Joseph returned to his gasping. “Nebula.” They stepped back, eyes narrow. “I’m busy.”

The new person advanced into the room further. “Yeah, Nova, being useless.”

“I’m doing what boss said.” They held up the towel as if it was evidence.

“Well you’re doing a shit job of it,” the other person-Nebula-hurled back, and Joseph felt his stomach drop.

“What do you mean? Boss loves waterboarding.” They were squeezing the towel so hard there was water pooling on the floor.

“Yeah. Unless it's on a water breather!” Nebula yelled, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Fuck. They knew. A wave of nausea washed over him as he waited for them to decide what would happen next.

Nebula smiled. “I’ll use the collar. Go back to bed, and they’ll be answered by the morning.”

His gut rolled at that, and he tried not to shift uncomfortably. Slowly, Nebula approached the bed. “Good evening, exhale.” They secured the device around his neck, then snitched it down tightly.

Their thumb pressed down on a button, and a bolt of electricity crackled through him, leaving him panting. For real this time.

“You and me? We’re going to have a wonderful time.”

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps@rainydaywhump@painful-pooch@rainbowsandwhumperflies@snaillamp @whumperofworlds

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

We Are TroubleD - "Feeling Bushed"

Written as a part of @whumperofworlds' WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Day 5 (my chosen prompts are bolded): Scream / Captivity / "NO!"

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Event page | My event participation masterpost (coming soon) | “We Are TroubleD” Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

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Content Warnings: Captivity, difficulty breathing, electric shock, exhaustion, fear, injuries (minor), losing hope, manhandling, swearing, recapture, restraints (bound and gagged), struggling, temporary loss of mobility, worry

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            It was mental agony waiting for his limbs to wake up from the shock of the fence. Tristan lay on his back in the dirt trying not to fall to pieces as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. He was too out in the open. If he couldn’t get out of there immediately, he was going to be seen, no question about it.

            The person making their way up the path wasn’t the farmer coming to investigate like Tristan had hoped. The gruff, threatening voice calling out to him was unmistakable- it was their captor coming after him. The boy’s scream had given away his general location, though he didn’t remember making the noise.

            Tristan stifled a sob, biting his bottom lip to keep it contained. This was hopeless. He couldn’t move. How was he supposed to hide, flee, or—if it came down to it—fight?

            It couldn’t end like this. One stupid mistake on his part… He was so close to getting help. He couldn’t let Darius down… His friend was still back there in that psycho’s basement in need of rescue. What had happened to him once the guy found him sitting all by himself? Or had Darius managed to get away, too? Please… please God… let Dair have escaped, too…

            He closed his eyes again, wanting more than anything to run, but being virtually immobile. Tristan slowed his breathing and tried to control how much his chest rose and fell, holding his breath for as long as he could.

            The heavy, slow, prowling clomp, clomp, clomp of the captor’s boots drew closer. Maybe when he found Tristan he would put two and two together- see him laying motionless by the electric fence and think he had died from getting electrocuted. Would he leave him there to rot? If so then Tristan could play possum long enough for him to drive off again.

            The odds weren’t great, but they weren’t zero, either. That was all he could hope for.

            The boots were right on him now and Tristan squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, focusing all of his energy on holding his breath as he lay in the scraggly wild vegetation. The man stopped right beside him, just a few feet away, and Tristan tried not to cry as he accepted that it was over. He had been found.

            There was a beat of silence, followed by a deep, disappointed sigh from Tristan’s hunter.

            “Where the fuck are you?” the man’s voice growled, and under his breath he muttered something about how he “swore the sound came from around here” and “stupid deer”.

            Tristan’s heart skipped a beat. He… hadn’t seen him?

            Oh my god. The mud he had smeared all over himself… His camouflage had worked. It had actually worked. He wrestled his face into a neutral expression and kept his eyes shut, too scared to move a muscle as the man set off again. It was only after he no longer heard the distant footsteps that he ventured another attempt at moving his limbs. Quietly, slowly, he bent his arm…

            … it moved. Praise Heaven, it moved. His legs responded too. He could get out of here.

            The man was a farther distance down into the woods, but not gone yet. Tristan cracked open one eye to see if he could see him, but only saw the clearing and the fence. He was going to chance it, to try to get back to the cover of the forest. Maybe he could properly bury himself in leaves or clamber up a tree or something until the guy left.

            Tristan took one more cautious look around, then rolled himself over and pushed up off the ground. His limbs were shaky, but they held his weight well enough. When he got to his feet, he made a mad dash over to a nearby thicket and practically fell into it, though he was trying his best to not make too much noise or movement.

            A thick, overgrown bush was before him, and he dove under it, ignoring the scratches he got from the pokey branches and thorns. The pain didn’t matter; He had to be hidden. It was safer than being out in the open for sure. Every single small noise he made felt like a nuclear bomb to him though.  

            He got his front half situated as best as he could, but his legs were still sticking out straight behind him, out in the open. He was just about to pull them in when he froze.

            Clompclompclompclomp

            Son of a— the man was coming back with increased speed. Tristan had rustled around too much getting into the bush. Maybe he should have stayed put where he was.

            Damn it. God damn it…

            He was fine. He was going to be fine. He was still camouflaged, and now he had better coverage, too. He wouldn’t be seen. He was mostly hidden by the bush. He could just lay still again and hope that his exposed legs blended in enough to hide them.

            CLOMP. CLOMP. CLOMP…

            Silence. Once again, his hunter had stopped a few feet away from Tristan’s hiding spot and surveyed the area, keeping a sharp eye out for the boy that he assumed would be upright and perhaps tucked behind a tree trunk.

            Shaky breaths. Small, terrified, shaky breaths. Tristan had to keep it together… He only hoped that he was keeping his trembling in check and that it wasn’t making the leaves on the bush shake as well.

            His whole body clenched when the man let out another furious shout, coupled with a hard stomp into the earth. It seemed like maybe he was giving up. Please, please, please let him be giving up…

            “YOU CAN’T HIDE FOREVER, KID. I’LL FIND YOU, AND THERE’LL BE HELL TO PAY! IF NOT FOR YOU, THEN FOR YOUR LITTLE SHIT OF A BOYFRIEND!”

            Tristan’s heart hammered so hard that the sound in his ears was giving him a headache. So, Darius was still his prisoner. The threat of him being hurt was almost too much to handle. Tristan had to save him. He was going to save him. If only this guy would leave!

            The monkey’s paw curled.

            The man did turn to leave, pushing through the tall grass that he had waded into trying to investigate the sound of the bush rustling. They were so close to each other, and neither of them had any idea of just how close.

            The camouflage had worked again.

            Too well, in fact.

            The man tripped and stumbled over something soft. Something squishy. Something organic. Something alive. Tristan’s legs.

            Oh fuck.

            “… Got’cha.”

            All bets were off. There was no more sneaking around or being quiet. Tristan scrambled to pull his legs under the bush with the rest of his body, but the man instantly seized onto the ankle closest to him and pulled hard and fast, yanking him a good way out from his hiding spot.

            Tristan screamed bloody murder and dug his fingernails into the dirt, blindly kicking at the man with his free leg. He reached desperately for any strong-looking branches that he could grab; Anything to anchor him. Frantic fingers locked around a decently thick one and he held on for dear life as he struggled and kicked and prayed.

            “Don’t fucking fight!” the man snarled and gave Tristan another strong tug.

            Like hell he wouldn’t fight!!

            “HELP!!!” Tristan yelled. “SOMEBODY HELP!!! PLEASE!! HELP ME!!!” he managed to land a hard kick on the man, who took the hit with a grunt.

            “You’ll regret that.” he growled.

            Tristan gasped as his other leg was caught and held, ensnared in the man’s grasp. Now all his kicking did was make him flop around like a beached mermaid, but he’d be damned if he’d stop fighting.

            The force of the next jerk on his legs actually lifted his body up from the ground. Only his grip on the branch that he clung to kept him beneath the bush.

            “HELP!!! PLEASE!!! ANYONE! HELP!!” Who was he kidding? He wasn’t Snow White. The forest creatures weren’t coming to save him. No one was.

            Tears stung Tristan’s eyes and he cried out in desperate, pleading whines. He pulled with all his might against the man, trying to inch himself back under the bush fully, but the tug of war was intense, especially because he was the rope. His bicep muscles were quaking. It was all too much. He wasn’t sure much longer he could bear this.

            SNAP!

            Tristan flew backwards as the branch snapped. At least it wasn’t his arms.

            “NO! NO! NO!!!” he was leaving claw marks in the soil, breaking branches, plucking entire sections of leaves off of the bushes in one fell swoop, ripping out large clumps of grass by the roots. “LET ME GO! LET ME GO!!!”

            But Tristan was completely out in the open again and his attacker was on top of him, pinning him to the ground with a knee in his back. The man fumbled with something that he had withdrawn from his pocket.

            “STOP IT! STOP IT!!! LET ME GO! LET ME—”

            Another scream was pulled from him against his will, and his remaining breath was stolen right along with it. Tristan sputtered and spasmed, his world once again erupting in a blinding flash of white light as a taser was pushed into his bare side.

            He only caught the image for a millisecond before his eyes could focus on nothing more: The lights were on in the house in the distance. The cozy, safe, inviting glow from the windows spilling out into the sleepy morning. The farmer would be out and about soon, ready to tend to his herd. Would he even know that something so violent had happened at the edge of his property? That someone needed his help? That Tristan had almost made it to him?

            He was so close. Tristan had been so damn close…

            It seemed like a lifetime before the shock stopped, but in reality, it was only a few seconds. The man was no longer directly on top of him, but that didn’t matter. The fight had drained out of Tristan’s body, replaced with a dazed haziness. He felt like he had been hit by a train. The taser shock hadn’t been as intense as the fence, but it had rocked his world all the same.

            God, his brain was fried. He whimpered and was still. Just a few seconds… All he needed was a few good seconds to recover, then he could return to fighting as long as he wasn’t shocked again. He wasn’t done... He couldn’t be done.

            Click! Tcktcktck.

            No… no…

            Hopelessness set in almost instantly with the sound of handcuffs being locked into place around his wrists, tight and snug against his flesh. He hadn’t even been aware that his arms had been wrenched behind him.

            His eyes welled up with tears and his cheek pressed into the dewy, cold soil, loose from where he had pulled it up.

            “No… please, no. Let me go. Please. Please…” his throat was scratchy from screaming so much.

            Begging simply wasn’t going to work.

            A second pair of cuffs locked around his ankles, and he was stuck again, just in time to regain mobility in his limbs. Of course.

            “No… no!” he couldn’t help it; Tears were flowing fast and freely now. He yanked and struggled, but the restraints didn’t budge.

            It couldn’t be over. It just couldn’t be. He had made a promise.

            “Let me go! Let me g—mmph!” a cloth was shoved in his mouth, and he was too disoriented to see it coming. Duct tape was looped around and around his head, ensuring that the hasty gag would stay in place, even over his dirt-covered skin. Tristan sobbed, his shoulders sinking in despair.

            No... No... No…

            The man looped his arms up under Tristan’s and hoisted him up, then began to drag him away. Tristan continued to cry, flail, and make muffled pleas as he was hauled from the scene toward the truck.

            “Shut the fuck up.” Their captor bit, giving him a quick smack upside the head. “And quit your crying or else you won’t be able to breathe.”

            Tristan thrashed in the man’s grasp as if it’d change his situation, but their captor held fast and seemed unaffected. If anything, it just made him tighten his already vice grip.

            What Tristan could see of the sunrise through his tears was beautiful. He wished he could watch it fully. It promised a new day. A new hope.

            But not for him.

            For him it was the promise of a whole new hell, one worse than what he and Darius had already dealt with.

            Whump. He was plopped down into the truck bed without kindness or care. Their kidnapper didn’t want to dirty his cabin, after all. The lining was hard and uncomfortable, but at least Tristan didn’t have to be in there long. He hadn’t gotten that far from the house.

            The engine turned over and gravel crunched under the tires as they set off. Tristan propped himself up just enough to peek over the tailgate. The farmhouse shrank further and further into the distance and all he could do was watch, helpless, back in the clutches of their captor.

            It was over.

            Sorry, Dair.

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Day 5!

Phew, that was a LOT more than I expected to come up with! Gotta feel bad for Tristan... he's devastated that he let Darius down. At least they'll be back together soon, right?

...

Right?

[whumperofworlds]

WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Hi everyone! WoW here, and after some thought, I decided to do this! Unfortunately, no fancy picture or anything so this will have to do!

Also, instead of the entire month, I'll do 15 days instead! Thinking up different prompts for all 30 days is kinda hard, so this will have to do LOL

The event starts this year, 2024, on April 1st and ends on April 15th! So get your stuff ready till then!

And since it's my first time doing something like this, feel free to critique and suggest anything :D

PROMPTS, ALT PROMPTS, AND RULES UNDER THE CUT!

PROMPTS

Day 1

Kidnapping / Bound and gagged / "I have your loved one."

Day 2

Starvation / Thirst / "Please..."

Day 3

Crying / Parting Words Regret / "Why...?"

Day 4

Electrocution / Waterboarded / "Anything but that!"

Day 5

Scream / Captivity / "NO!"

Day 6

Nonhuman whumpee / Reluctant Whumper / "Run!"

Day 7

Bloodied knuckles / Wounded / "Is that blood?!"

Day 8

Stranded / Team whump / "Is anyone there?!"

Day 9

Aftermath of rescue / Sickness / "You're burning up."

Day 10

Hypothermia / Heat flashes / "Bind them."

Day 11

Used as bait / Held for ransom / "It's a trap!"

Day 12

Magic exhaustion / Collapsed / "So tired..."

Day 13

Natural disaster / Shock collar / "Shut up!"

Day 14

Guilt / Chased / "I bought you time, use it!"

Day 15

Hidden injury / Outnumbered / "I'm sorry."

ALTERNATE PROMPTS

Abandoned whumpee

Bridal carry

Claustrophobia

Forced to hurt another

Poison

Amnesia

Mouth stitched shut

Humiliation

RULES

1. Anyone can join, not just whump blogs!

2. NSFW, gore, etc are allowed, just make sure you tag properly and use community labels! If it's not tagged properly and/or no community labels are used, I unfortunately can't reblog it, sorry!

3. Anything can be used for these prompts (art, writing, gifs, etc!) Just as long as they're related to the current prompt!

4. If you like me to find you, tag your posts with #wow birthday whump , #wow birthday whump [day #] , and/or #wow birthday whump alt prompt , along with the prompt name (ie if it's day one and you're writing for the "Bound and gagged" whump, tag as #bound and gagged )

5. HAVE FUN!

[3-2-whump]

3-2-Masterlist

Created: 2/3/24

Updated: 11/17/24

Whump Quotes

Quote 1 Art

Quote 2

Quote 3

Quote 4

Quote 5

Whump One Shots (Generic Names)

Tear-Filled Noncon (Mutual!)

Valentine's Day Shopping

Tear-Filled Noncon (Mutual!) Art

The Informant

The Informant, Second Half

Rescue: The Informant, Part Three

Post-Recovery Arc Fluff

Language Barrier Idea

Hidden Injuries/Keeping Secrets/‘Drop the Act’

Eternal Masterlist -Story Complete

Other Projects/Ideas to be Developed

New(Old?) Whump Story Idea

Rinnico Kaa Design

Mermay and MerWhump

Events

WoW Birthday Whump Event:

Days 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

OC Week 2024: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 p1, 5 p2, 6, 7

Azerty’s Mini Comfortember: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Miscellania

Whump Intro

Whump Author Portrait

Whumpy Bingo Sheet

About the Author, or Adoption Trauma and Whump

[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

WOW Birthday Whump Event Masterlist

C’est finit! 15 days for @whumperofworlds lovely birthday event 🎉

Chronological

1 | 2 | 3 | 6 | 7 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 14 | 15 | Alt 3 | Alt 4 | Alt 5 | Alt 8

By Plot

Charlie has Crap Friends | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

RUIN | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Interlude | art

[whumped-by-glitter]

Challenges/Events:

WOW's Birthday Whump:

A series about a team having a really awful month. Will the bad luck ever end? Stay tuned to find out!

Day 1: Bound/Gagged/"I have your loved one...."

Day 2: Day 2: Starvation / Thirst / “Please…”

WOW's Birthday Event Day 3: Crying / Parting Words Regret / “Why…

Day 4: Electrocution / Waterboarded / "Anything but that!"

Day 5: Scream / Captivity / “NO!” Bonus Alt Prompt: Mouth Stitched shut

Day 6: Nonhuman whumpee / Reluctant Whumper / "Run!" Bonus Alt Prompt: Forced to Hurt

Day 7: Bloodied knuckles / Wounded / “Is that blood?!”

[i-eat-worlds]

Wow Birthday Whump Day 13: Natural disaster / Shock collar / "Shut up!"

*sighs in Immortal ALS* This was fun, though it did get kinda long. Hope y’all enjoy!

Related to Day 4

Content: floods, pretty detailed medical whump, gore (descriptions of serious injuries and dead* bodies), immortal whumpee, implied past abuse, briefly mentioned finger gore, fear of punishment, caretaker new whumper, medicinal drug use, feelings of suffocation

The stairs creaked under Joseph’s feet as he descended, and he hoped they wouldn’t give out. He could smell the awfulness from the top of them. Whatever the floodwater had washed in absolutely reeked.

It hadn’t all drained out yet. Several inches of murky water shimmered in the light from his headlamp. It sloshed as he stepped down into it, wrinkling his nose at the smell. This was going to be hell to clean out of his uniform. Once he was off the stairs, Eric came down behind him. He looked a little green faced at the pungent aroma, but they continued into the pitch-black basement nonetheless.

Joseph led the way, headlamp only illuminating one small portion of wall at a time. The stench grew stronger as they walked, and it was only a matter of time before they finally found the cause.

There was a body.

They were slumped against the wall, one hand shackled on a short chain. Their head was squarely below the line of grime on the wall that marked the crest of the water. Blood swirled around them, oozing from the open wound across their belly. Several loops of bowel were hanging out, and they were starting to turn a blackish-green color. Their unrestrained arm was puffy and swollen, and their clavicle protruded from their shoulder, stained a muddy color from the water. It was a horrible scene.

Joseph’s stomach dropped as he approached them. Despite the gray skin and blue tinge to their lips, they looked so young. Who the fuck had Darkstar been keeping in his basement?

He reached his hand out, sliding it under their jaw. As he expected, there was nothing there, just the sensation of cold skin. For another brief second, he stared down at their face, mouth unable to form the words to call in the report.

And, suddenly, there were two big, amber eyes staring up at him.

He did a double take, blinking a little in surprise. The eyes flickered wildly around the room before settling on him. This was real. They were alive.

“Unshakable,” he called, squatting down into the water while he removed his pack, and Eric quickly wheeled around, confused. “They’re immortal.”

His eyes flashed with understanding. “I'll call it in.”

“Can you cut them loose?” He pulled a pair of gloves on.

“On it.” He reached behind to grab his bolt cutters while he requested an ambulance.

His hands worked quickly as he wetted a pad and placed it up against their abdomen. “I’m Exhale, and this is Unshakable. We work for INSUPA. We’re going to help you.”

Their eyes widened at that, but they gave no other response. With a loud chink, the chain snapped, and their arm dropped like a ragdoll. A little splash went up as it hit the water. Once their wound was dressed, his hand flittered higher, feeling for a pulse again, and watching their breathing.

Both were entirely absent. Great.

He looked up to Eric. “We need to get them upstairs.”

*** Someone was touching them.

Nova could feel someone’s finger pressing under their jaw, pulling them back to consciousness. They tried to fight it, begging their body to descend back into nothingness, but they were unable to. Slowly, their eyelids slid open, and the awful sensation of their existence returned.

There was a crushing weight on their chest, and it felt still and empty and wrong. Panic surged through them as they were reminded that they couldn’t breathe. Something was lodged in their throat, suffocating them, and they couldn’t do anything to get it out and- A cool, wet bandage pressed against their belly. Right. There was a person here. People? Maybe.

Their eyes flickered downwards. He was saying something to them. They should be listening, shouldn’t they?

“…Exhale….We….INSUPA…..going to….”

No. No no no. Darkstar was too late. They’d been captured. Fuck. And Exhale. The name was familiar but they couldn’t place quite where…

Oh. Oh no.

That was why he was here, looking for them in this half-flooded basement. Revenge.

It didn’t matter, though. Their body was still dead and it wouldn’t move or respond or do anything. He was going to do as he pleased. Did it really matter? Was Darkstar any different?

They still couldn’t breathe. They wanted to breathe. Why wasn’t it working?

Suddenly, the chain pinning their arm to the wall was cut and their arm flopped down into the water. They glanced over and found another person standing by them. He was holding some sort of long handled tool.

Please, please no. They couldn’t speak to beg for mercy, but maybe the pleading look would work. Darkstar liked to lop off their fingers when they’d been bad. Hopefully Exhale wasn’t the same. Or, maybe he would wait until they healed? Did it matter?

It wasn’t like he wasn’t justified.

They’d tortured him, because Darkstar had asked them too, and they really didn’t have any integrity, did they? And they’d failed Nebula, and Darkstar had kicked them out, and they’d failed everyone and hurt so many people and it was all for nothing.

It would be hard for them to argue that they didn't deserve this.

Suddenly, hands seized them, hosting them up out of the water. They tried to gasp in surprise but they couldn’t.

They just wanted to breathe.

The movement was agonizing, pulling at their injuries and sending waves of pain rolling through them. Neither of the heroes touched their shoulder at all, steering clear of the limb entirely. It was odd.

Exhale started to ascend the stairs, light slowly growing brighter as they neared the top. The fabric of his uniform was grating against their skin as he walked through the safehouse’s hallways, each step jostling their body.

Stupidly, they tried to breathe again. It didn’t work, their lungs still empty of air and the choking, suffocating sensation still stuck in their throat.

The cold air stung as Exhale carried them out the door, laying them down on the pavement. Not dropping. Laying.

He dropped his bag down next to them, and the hero they didn’t recognize took up a spot by their head. His lips moved, and he was obviously trying to tell them something, but they couldn’t hear it. Everything was a blur.

Two fingers slid under their jaw again, and he bent down low, his cheek right by their unbreathing mouth. It stayed there for what felt like a small eternity, and he straightened up, locked his fingers together, leaned over them, and pushed.

Their eyes went wide as his hands came down in their chest. He was crushing them, pushing their sternum down again and again and again. They wanted to fight him away, but their limbs still weren’t cooperating and their chest felt empty and they couldn’t breathe.

While Exhale beat into them, they could feel the hero working behind them. There was the ghost of something against their cheek, and then something invaded their nostril. They could feel the slime coated tube slithering down the back of their throat, eventually coming to a stop.

Exhale’s hands finally let up, and he leaned back on his heels. They didn’t get a break, though. Immediately, their head was yanked back and a piece of thick plastic clamped over their mouth and nose. Air was forced into their lungs, but it didn’t feel like enough.

The mask fell to the side and Exhale was back on them, pumping their chest. It hurt. They almost wished for Darkstar’s loppers.

There was an incessant drone in their ears, loud and screeching, and they were finally able to place it as sirens. An ambulance was charging down the road, lights visible out of the corner of their eye.

Exhale pulled away from their chest again, and air was pushed into their lungs. He leaned over them, ready to start, and they strained to stop him. All they could manage was a dull twitch of their hand.

He went back to pushing down on their chest, slamming his weight into them relentlessly. In the far field of their vision, they were able to see several more people approaching, laden with many bags. That couldn’t be a good sign.

They swarmed around them, voices swirling while they exchanged information. Exhale tilted back and the mask descended over their face again. They tried to resist, straining to breathe on their own, but they couldn’t do it.

Once more, he brought his hands down repeatedly, slamming his body weight into them repeatedly. More hands worked around him, a pair sticking things to their chest while another tugged at their wrist. The touch was overwhelming, and they tried to get their limbs to cooperate.

This time, though, was more successful than the first.

They raised an arm at Exhale’s body, weakly trying to fend him off. They noticed that their wrist was a little less swollen as they slapped it against his side. It probably wouldn’t end well, but they needed him to stop, even if it was just for a moment.

“Rhythm check!” someone called out.

Surprisingly, his hands pulled away, and everyone’s eyes turned towards something they couldn’t see. Two fingers came to rest under their jaw.

“Back in sinus.” Was that good? “Still not breathing.”

They tried to pull a breath in, but they still couldn’t, their lungs refusing to pull in air. The hero quickly brought the mask back down over their face, his fingers pressing up against their chin.

Exhale looked down at them. His face was calm, almost thoughtful, not angry. Why? He’d just beat their chest into pieces. He was supposed to hate them.

“We’re going to move you up onto the stretcher now,” he said, voice far too gentle. “I know it's scary, but we’re going to take care of you.”

They couldn’t detect any malice in the statement, but they also couldn’t bring themselves to believe it. He had to be lying, right? He had to be.

The people around them shifted positions, and then, on the count of three, they were lifted into the air and quickly deposited on the stretcher. It was agonizing, their legs jerking and kicking on instinct.

“Stay still for us,” Exhale said. “I know it hurts, let us help.”

They were quickly loaded onto the ambulance. It was the warmest they could remember being. Exhale disappeared from their vision, but the other hero stayed by their head, keeping the mask on their face, steadily pushing air in and out. They were hungry for it. Every pause felt like an eternity.

One of the medics was messing with their arm again. They could feel a tight band around it, the ends ticking their bicep. The other was clipping something to their finger and covering their legs with a blanket.

“Sharp scratch,” a voice said, and then something burrowed into the crook of their elbow. Several seconds later, a rush of cool washed up their arm.

Exhale reappeared. “You got access?” He sounded surprised. There was a pause, presumably for a response they couldn’t make out, and then he turned away.

“We’re going to get you something for the pain now,” the medic said. They nodded weakly, still unable to speak. Another chilling wave rolled up their arm. Exhale kept breathing for them, and try as they might to resist, they couldn’t do it. It just wouldn’t work. He looked away from their face, eyes flickering over to the monitor and back down to them. What was he going to do?

There was a brief discussion that they couldn’t follow, and then he bent down to speak with them. “Hey, you with me?” he asked. They blinked in response, tears welling in their eyes for some reason. “Good. We’re concerned about your breathing, so we’re going to put you to sleep so that we can breathe for you. It’ll be more comfortable for you, yeah.”

His voice was calm, but it struck horror in them nonetheless. Darkstar had threatened them with this before, reminding them that the drugs wouldn’t work. But they couldn’t talk, beholden to the hero moving air in and out of their lungs.

People were shifting around them, preparing for something. The painkillers were starting to dull the agony. Even though everything still hurt, it was further away. Exhale swapped out for the other hero, still squeezing the bag in time. They half expected him to stop, forcing them to feel the crushing sensation of suffocation.

He didn’t though, his face still free of any malice. It had to be fake, considering the awfulnes they knew was coming.

There were two more consecutive rushes of cold. “Ket’s in,” somebody said.

Exhale looked down at them. “You might start feelin’ pretty tired soon, and that’s okay.”

They waited, but nothing happened. He didn’t seem too shocked by this, and he told the medic to push more.

It took a moment, but eventually they felt their eyelids start to grow heavy. Were the drugs working? They hoped they were. Please. Please.

Exhale’s face hanging above them was the last thing they saw before everything went black.

*** It took nearly a double dose of ketamine to get them out, but their eyes finally slid closed. The look on their face was strangely peaceful as he instructed the paramedic to push the roc. That one took a less dramatic amount to work, but it still irked him a little. After a minute had passed, the BVM was removed, and he began.

Using his right hand, he scissored their mouth open, then went in with the laryngoscope. He moved past their teeth and pushed their tongue away, descending further into their throat. It was coated with secretions, thick and slimy and a little bloody. “Suction,” he called out.

The tool was placed in his hand, and he quickly swept it back and forth across their mouth, vacuuming the goop away. It revealed their vocal cords, still and unmoving. “Bougie, please.” He kept his eyes on their glottis as it was passed to him.

He threaded it into their mouth and down their throat, feeling it click as it moved past the rings of their trachea. Once he felt the bougie stop, he asked for his tube. He’d just gotten it past their teeth when their face jerked.

Oh fuck.

They slowly pulled their eyes open, and it was obvious they were immediately aware of what was happening. “They’ve regained consciousness, I need another dose of ket in.”

He kept sliding the tube down as their eyes flitted around frantically, eyes watering. “We’re going to get you to sleep again.” Tears started to flow down their cheeks as he pulled the bougie out. “I know, I know, but I have to.”

They were obviously terrified, eyes wide and begging for relief. “Ket’s in.”

“Good.” He inated the balloon, then attached them to the ventilator while the paramedic used tape to secure the tube. “We’ve got the medicine in now. I know it's scary, but you’ll be asleep soon.”

Slowly, it started to work, and their eyes slid closed once more. They pushed another dose of roc, since they’d eaten through that too. Immortals were always hell to keep out, and this one wasn’t going to be any different.

Once they knew it was placed correctly, they got off to the hospital. Everything else that needed to happen could be done en route. They were eating through meds at a ridiculous rate, but the procedure had done its job, and their vitals were less awful.

They looked less dead now, somehow, and as he studied their face, looking for any signs of consciousness, it hit him. He knew them.

That was Darkstar’s sidekick.

That was Nova.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump@painful-pooch@snaillamp @rainbowsandwhumperflies @whumperofworlds

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

We Are TroubleD - "Feeling Bushed - Trailing Behind"

Written as a part of @whumperofworlds' WoW's Birthday Whump Event! as a followup to my entries for Day 4 and 5.

---

Event page | My event participation masterpost (coming soon) | “We Are TroubleD” Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

---

Content Warnings: Captivity, difficulty breathing, electric shock, exhaustion, fear, forced to watch, manhandling, swearing, recapture, restraints (bound and gagged), struggling, temporary loss of mobility, worry

---------------------------------------------------

            It had been a long hard day, and the farmer was relieved when he was able to come in for the night to finally relax. With a plate of dinner in one hand and a crisp can of beer in the other, he shuffled into his office and took a seat in front of his computer.

            The next half hour or so was spent mindlessly browsing social media, watching a few funny videos, and clicking through his email. Before he knew it, he was swiping through his phone, too. A second screen. A curse, honestly, but it was something to look at while he listened to the latest episode of his favorite podcast.

            A tiny red notification dot sat on the icon for his trail cam app, and he opened it, excited to see what critter had tripped the sensor. To his surprise, two cameras had captured activity that morning. Whatever animal it was had apparently been on the move.

            He tapped the earliest alert and saw a few stills of… a dirt mound? What in the world? Zooming in didn’t help much. It was a weird figure, human-shaped, but covered head-to-toe in grass and mud. Why were they so dirty? What were they doing?

            … Hold on, were they a hunter? That’d explain the crazy camouflage, though it was unlike anything he’d ever seen. He sighed. Not again… He’d have to keep an eye out for them in case they decided to return. Hunters were not welcome on or near his property unless he invited them, and he’d make sure they got one hell of an earful the next time they stepped foot on his land.

            But they weren’t carrying a gun or a bow… They didn’t even look like they were wearing shoes...

            In the next image, the figure was standing, looking at his electric fence pensively.

            Oh. Oh no. They didn’t…

            … They did.

            He swiped, and the camera had detected enough movement that it had decided to record the next bit. The mysterious mud-covered person stuck their leg through the fence, slipped on something, then was shocked twice by the wire. The farmer inhaled sharply at the footage, his anger at the trespasser instantly being replaced by concern, especially when the figure screamed. Holy shit, were they okay?!

            The being stumbled backwards out of the fence and crumpled to the ground, laying on their back. They appeared to have passed out (or at least the farmer hoped they were only passed out) from the shock, because they stopped moving. With no further motion, the trail cam ended the recording.

            Oh God, were they still out there?!

            He swiped through the next few files and saw stills of a second person stalking through the clearing. Maybe it was a friend coming to the aid of the one who had been shocked, but this other guy wasn’t wearing camo or hunting gear. In fact, he barely looked put together, like he had left his house or campground in a hurry before fully getting ready for the day. A hat was pulled down low on his head, obscuring his face. He walked right by the unmoving dirt mound and didn’t even see them.

            Another short video played where the dirt mound was standing and moving, dashing out of frame. Thank goodness, they were alive and seemingly okay. They appeared antsy though, casting a quick glance in the direction that the man had walked.

            That was it for that cam. He backed out and tapped on the second cam to see what happened next.

            There wasn’t much, only one video that was very poorly framed so he could only see a bit of the action.

            He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

            The camera activated when the man from before tripped over something. The farmer still couldn’t see the guy’s face, though.

            “… Got’cha.”

            Suddenly all hell broke loose. The man had his back to the camera but was wrestling with a pair of mud-covered legs poking out of a bush, which shook violently as the two tussled.

            A piercing scream rattled the audio, similar to the one he had heard the person caught in the fence make. It was the same guy. It had to be. The farmer had to turn down the volume because of how loud the video was.

            “Don’t fucking fight!” said the man. What did he want with this guy?!

            “HELP!!! SOMEBODY HELP!!! PLEASE!! HELP ME!!!” the farmer’s chest tightened at the desperate cries from the person in the bush. Whoever they were, they were terrified and trying with all their might to get away from the man. They kicked him hard and he took the blow, his body language reading furious and deadly.

            “You’ll regret that.”

            “HELP!!! PLEASE!!! ANYONE! HELP!!” hearing it was sickening, and watching it unfold was doubly so. How had he not heard this from his house? Granted, this took place on the other side of his fields, but sound traveled over flat land. This must have happened either right as he was showering or during the morning news broadcast he watched every day. Either one would’ve masked the noise.

            There was a SNAP! like a branch breaking and the person rocketed out of the bush as the man yanked them by their legs. The farmer was horrified and mesmerized all at the same time as he watched the person clawing and scrambling desperately against the grasp of the man, fighting to get away as he was pinned down.

            He had no idea who either of them were, but the mud guy was clearly frantic for a reason. Whoever the man after him was, he was bad news. The farmer was praying that his victim would escape. He was appalled by what was happening to him. 

            “NO! NO! NO!!! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!!! STOP IT! STOP IT!!! LET ME GO! LET ME—"

            His heart dropped as the mud-covered guy screamed once again and shook erratically as he was tased. Tased.

            What. The. Fuck.

            The poor guy had already received a double shock from the fence… could he even handle a third from a fucking taser?!

            Mud guy was quickly handcuffed by his wrists and ankles by his pursuer, but that dude was no cop.

            “No… please, no. Let me go. Please. Please… No… no!” it seemed like it was hard for him to talk, but the dirt mound was begging all the same. It was gut wrenching.  

            The farmer watched him struggle and fight, giving it everything he had, which wasn’t much at the moment. He felt like he was going to hurl.

            “Let me go! Let me g-mmph!” his pleading died out with a gag being applied as duct tape was looped around his head over and over. He was being treated like an animal. No. Worse than an animal. The farmer was watching a twisted, inhumane, merciless kidnapping take place on his own property, and he had been completely unaware that it was happening.

            The mud guy was dragged out of frame fully, crying, whimpering, and thrashing as he was pulled away. It chilled the farmer right to the bone. Absolutely horrific.

            The video ended and he sat in stunned silence for a minute, staring at the blank screen completely petrified.

            He had to call the police. The authorities had to know about this right now. Someone had to be looking for mud guy, right? Maybe the two were still in the area, and if they weren’t, maybe they hadn’t gotten too far.

            He only hoped—

            He only hoped the dirt mound person was still alive.

            It felt like a knife was twisting in his chest at that thought. The poor guy’s screams echoed in his mind. Who was he? Where was he? Was he okay?

            Trembling fingers dialed the numbers on his phone, and he tried to gather his nerves enough to make sense to the dispatcher.

            “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

            “I-I’d like to report a k-kidnapping...”  

---------------------------------------------------

First | Previous | Next

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Confrontation (Magician's Bait, Part 4)

WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 11: Used as bait / Held for ransom / "It's a trap!"

WoW Birthday Whump Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

Happy birthday to @writer-of-worlds! 🎉🎉🎉

TW: kidnapping, magic whump, referenced past whump, blindness, deception, trouble breathing

first part | <- previous part | next part ->

Context: Damian's rescuer approaches, and his captor brings him out of his cell to witness her defeat of Caiya Ebony. But something's... off about the whole thing.

-----

The whispering was beginning to grow unbearable.

Damian didn’t know what the Stalker had in mind with this particular spell. It didn’t seem to do anything useful besides incessant noise. Perhaps that was the point.

The words were familiar yet strange, like someone mumbling in his secondary language, using unknown rhetoric. No matter how hard he tried, Damian could not recognize any words. They were not human, not elvish. Draigo, perhaps?

He knew that he did not know the exact dialect of the whispering, but that did not stop his mind from grasping at vowels and grammar for a translation.

This was possibly worse than when she’d starved him.

After the day Damian had pleaded with her for water, the Stalker had come in daily as always. But along with temporarily freeing him from his bonds, she also muttered two runes in quick succession. And his hunger and thirst would evaporate like mist in the sunlight.

At least the dehydration had been natural, a normal process of his bodily functions from lack of water. This was not.

Damian wished, not for the first time, that his hands were free so he could cover his ears and block out the unbearable noise. The hissed “s” sounds, the sharp “t” and “p” and “c”, it all drilled into his skull like a sharp, thick needle. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, ignoring the pain as his skin, bruised from many performances of the same exercise, protested yet another assault.

But it was the only thing he could do to distract himself.

The door abruptly opened, slamming into the wall. Damian flinched, his body straining against the ropes binding him to the chair. He’d been so focused on tuning out the whispering that he hadn’t noticed the approaching footsteps of his captor.

The Stalker’s first words were a rune, spoken with the same harsh tone as everything else. Damian exhaled in relief when the voices were immediately silenced.

His relief was short-lived.

“My outer wards have finally been disabled,” the Stalker said, not bothering to disguise her glee. “Your rescuer approaches, princeling.”

Damian closed his eyes, trying to hide the despair washing over him, threatening to drown him.

She cackled at his resignation. “Oh, princeling,” the Stalker teased, “did you really think a savior would never arrive? Do you really place so little value upon yourself?”

“I suppose… it was too much to hope they’d never find me.”

His captor’s laughter was strangely beautiful for someone with such ill intentions. “I can’t believe,” she said, gasping for air, “you are still so naive! So naive! This is the heir to the throne of Caenum!”

She spoke a rune, and the ropes binding Damian to the chair vanished, leaving only the ones tying his wrists together. The Stalker yanked him to his feet by the shoulder and dragged him out of the cell. He stumbled over the uneven ground, trying to keep his footing despite her cruel pace.

They walked along a corridor, he guessed, judging by the straightness of the path and the way their footsteps echoed off the nearby walls. The air was colder here than in the cell, and Damian thought he detected the faintest scent of rain. Long ago, he had assumed they were underground, but they mustn't be too far from the surface.

His first indication that they had entered a large room was how the sound of their footsteps changed. The second was the abrupt right turn the Stalker made. The sudden change in movement caught him off-guard, and he stumbled.

Hands bound behind his back, Damian couldn’t catch himself, and the Stalker didn’t bother to keep her grip on him as he fell past her. His knees stung from the impact, and shockwaves of pain traveled up and down his body when his shoulder hit the ground.

The Stalker didn’t help him back to his feet. Instead, another spoken rune reached his ears, and a rope wound itself around the bonds on his wrists, tethering him to what he assumed was the wall.

Air displaced around him as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. He ignored it. When he finally maneuvered his body the right way, the touch of the Stalker’s hand on his face startled him.

She placed both her hands over his unseeing eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” she said softly in his ear, “about how you won’t be able to properly witness the defeat of the magician who’s come to save you.” He didn’t need to see her face to know she was grinning maniacally. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Damian had gotten used to the runes having very mild effects. Ropes appeared, hunger and thirst banished, incessant whispering voices, all of them were simple and had one purpose.

So he had thought, anyway.

For one thing, the Stalker spoke multiple runes in quick succession. Three or four, perhaps? Damian lost track as a headache appeared in the form of pressure behind his eyes. Her hands on his face became cold, as if they had changed into ice. He gasped as the pressure intensified, almost like his eyes were about to burst from their sockets.

Just when he feared it would never end, the Stalker pulled away, and the pressure abruptly vanished. His sight returned slowly, similar to how his eyes would adjust from light to darkness or darkness to light. The Stalker retreated, leaving him to his own devices as he examined his surroundings.

He was attached to the wall of a large circular room, almost like an arena. The ceiling was higher than he expected for an underground room, tall enough that Damian doubted he could touch it even if he jumped. The floor was broken stone, and an entire portion had collapsed completely, leaving a pit halfway across the room. 

The room was well-lit despite the absence of a light source. Runes again, no doubt. Several openings in the walls lead into corridors, all identical. Damian considered the state of the room, the corridors, and what he recalled of his cell. “We’re in the catacombs, aren’t we?”

The Stalker smirked. “Well done, princeling.” She couldn’t have been much older than Damian, with long black hair tied back into an elegant braid so complex it had to have been done with magic. She wore practical but expensive clothing: black trousers and a deep blue blouse, with a dark brown duster overtop. All had numerous pockets, and she had a pair of knives strapped at her sides.

Those knives probably had dozens of runes inscribed upon the blades. Damian vaguely recalled Caiya mentioning that designing the runes for her knife was considered a ‘final exam’ for a magician. And that it was to be used as a tool for carving runes or preparing food, not as a weapon.

Damian suspected the Stalker didn’t ascribe to such moral teachings.

As if in response to his thoughts, the Stalker casually drew one of the knives, flipping it between her fingers with the sort of ease that comes from experience. She noticed him staring, her smirk widening into a maniacal grin. “Soon enough, princeling, you’ll be begging for me to drive this into your throat.”

Damian swallowed uneasily at the thought. “You…” he stammered, “you’ll be waiting a long time for that.”

She barked a harsh laugh. “We’ll see about—” she cut herself off and sheathed the knife. “My last ward’s been tripped. Your savior has arrived.”

Damian stiffened, glancing around hurriedly, searching each tunnel and corridor. Perhaps if he could warn Caiya before she got there—

Movement in the corridor directly across from where he was seated caught his eye. It couldn’t be the Stalker, for she was beside him, enjoying his fear.

“Stop!” Damian shouted. His words bounced off the stone walls. “It’s a trap! She won’t—!”

The Stalker spoke a sharp rune. The air abruptly left his lungs, halting his pleas. Damian gasped for breath, panicking as his lungs refused to expand. She tsked softly. “None of that, princeling.”

He finally managed to inhale, but the air escaped as quickly as he drew it in, bringing barely enough oxygen to stay conscious. The Stalker shook her head at his predicament, her smile vanishing as she turned away.

Damian watched as Caiya stepped out of the corridor. Her head was covered by a gray cowl, hiding her face. From this distance, he couldn’t make out much detail, but he thought the markings on the cowl were runes painted onto the cloth in red ink. Or blood. Her knife was strapped to her right thigh, and she wore brown trousers and a green, mottled jacket beneath the cowl.

A spoken rune broke the tense silence. Immediately, the entrance to every corridor shimmered, a magical barrier blocking all paths in and out. No escape. They were trapped.

“Took you long enough!” The Stalker called, her hands on her hips. “Are you really so incompetent that you do not know a simple tracking spell?”

Caiya cocked her head but said nothing in reply. Something’s off, Damian realized as he struggled for air. She never resists a chance to have the last word.

The Stalker stepped forward, waving her hand at Damian behind her. “Well, Miss Ebony, no matter what means you used to get here, the ends still remain the same. I challenge you to a duel. To the death. Winner gets to keep the princeling and her life.” She stuck out her hand mockingly despite the magician being several meters away.

The magician regarded her in silence. Slowly, she raised her hand and removed the cowl, casting it to the side. The rune-marked cloth slid across the floor and fell into the pit. “I accept your terms,” the girl—who was very much not Caiya Ebony—said in a soft voice that carried across the room.

“Swear on it,” the Stalker insisted. She must not have known what Caiya looked like. Or she didn’t care.

“You challenged me. Swear it first.”

“I, Natali Tallis—” Damian flinched at the name, that of a famous long-deceased magician— “swear on my life that the victor of this duel will walk away with her life and the life of the prince.”

The ghost of a smile touched the edges of the girl’s lips. “I, Reese Takari, accept these terms.” With those words, she drew the knife at her side. “Allez!”

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds

[whumperofworlds]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 4

Electrocution / Waterboarded / "Anything but that!"

Sorry for being a little late! Feeling under the weather RN! Anyway, I look forward to what y'all have 👀

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

We Are TroubleD - "A Shocking Offence"

Written as a part of @whumperofworlds' WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Day 4 (my chosen prompts are bolded): Electrocution / Waterboarded / "Anything but that!"

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Event page | My event participation masterpost (coming soon) | “We Are TroubleD” Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

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Content Warnings: Difficulty breathing, electric shock, exhaustion, fear, injuries (minor), swearing, temporary loss of mobility, worry

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            It was a tense and awkward climb, but Tristan managed to wriggle through one of the basement windows and pull himself out into the backyard. The grass was prickly, wet, and chilly against his chest, but a little bit of discomfort was more than worth it for the promise of freedom.

            He crouched down, trying to stay as small and in control of his actions as he could, and slowly slid the windowpane closed behind him. He’d be damned if he let their captor know that was how he escaped.

            It felt seven kinds of wrong to be outside. Forbidden. Exhilarating. Frightening. The whole world spread before him, full liberation from this hell almost within his grasp. He could go back to his old life, back to his other friends, back to his broken little family… 

            All he had to do was find help for himself and Darius.

            Timid fingers brushed against the side of the house, steadying himself as he slunk around. Tristan peered up, trying to find the wall with the fewest windows. If there was no way to be seen from inside, he could get further along before he was detected.

            Around the left side there was only one window- a tiny little thing, possibly for bathroom ventilation. The lights were off and the blinds were still drawn. Perfect.

            He launched off of the wall and bolted, wincing momentarily as his bare feet crunched into the gravel of the driveway, but choosing not to dwell on it. Before he knew it, he was back in the grass. A beat-up old truck sat a few feet away and he ducked behind it long enough to take stock of which direction he should run.

            A swear escaped his lips. There weren’t any houses nearby that he could see, just woods and land. Before him was a large, grassy field, but if he could make it to the tree bank on the other side of it then he’d have more coverage and could slow down to figure out his next move.

             There was a road to his left that had to lead somewhere… He could follow parallel to it a bit farther back so he wouldn’t be spotted immediately if their captor came driving after him. He might even be able to squat in the woods until the man gave up looking.

            Yup, the treeline was the way to go.

            Off he dashed, flying as fast as his legs would carry him. His cheeks flushed red as he panted, but he didn’t slow down for anything.

            Thoughts of Darius were heavy on his mind. How much time did they have before their captor woke up and found him? Would Darius be okay? Had he made any progress cutting through the cuff?

            Was there any possibility that Tristan could actually find help in the first place? He didn’t even know where they were or if there were people this way.

            It was closer to morning than he thought. The horizon was just barely starting to brighten up. No sunrise yet, but it probably wouldn’t be more than a half hour before things started getting lighter. He had to act fast to make the most of the cover of darkness.

            When he reached the trees, Tristan doubled over trying to catch his breath. He stumbled behind the thick old trunk of a bigger tree and leaned against it for support, breathing fast and hard.

            Maybe this would suck less if he had water. Maybe it would suck less if he had kept up with his exercise regimen. In high school he had been on the track team. Not necessarily good at track, but a participant, nonetheless. Now it felt like he had never run a day in his life. Guess sitting captive in a basement for a long period of time could do that to a person. 

            He peeked around the trunk, stealing the smallest glance back at the house. No lights or movement yet, thank god. He still had time.

            Unfortunately, though, there was no sign of Darius either.

            There was a pang in his heart. How the hell could he leave Dair behind? Tristan’s head spun for a moment. He had to go back for him. With the growing daylight through the windows, he would be able to see better to find sharper scissors or a knife or something to cut the ankle cuff and bring him with him. They could go together. There was time…

            … No. No, there wasn’t. He had promised. Darius would be furious at him. Things could go wrong. They couldn’t afford that.

            Tristan swore again and swung the side of his fist against the trunk.

            No. He had to go. He had to keep on.

            He pushed through the brush, taking care to avoid any plants that might be poison ivy. He wasn’t quite sure what poison ivy looked like exactly, but it was wise to avoid anything dangerous-looking or sharp regardless.

              Once he got to the end of the small forest, he cautiously poked out to see what he could spot in the distance.

            Trees. Some bushes. A grazing field. Cattle dotting said field. A few more bushes and trees. More cows. More tree—wait.

            He squinted, trying to make sure he was seeing things correctly. Sure enough, beyond the next bank of trees stretched a field. On the other side of the vast spans of land he swore he saw a house. His vision held on it for a moment and he swallowed.

            It was probably farther than it looked, and it would be a long, long dash through wide open ground where he could be spotted in an instant from the road. There were a few bushes scattered about and a couple trees... Not the best hiding spots, but maybe they could work in a pinch. That or -he thought amusingly- he could snuggle up and make good friends with a cow.

            His feet sank into the soft earth beneath him, and an idea crossed his mind. Maybe he could cover himself in mud. That way he could camouflage better if their captor drove by and he needed to throw himself to the ground to hide. He chewed his lip and thought about how long getting that kind of coverage would take. It hadn’t rained recently as far as he could tell. It wasn’t quite mud puddle consistency anywhere. Rubbing it on himself would take time.

            But dang it, if it upped his chances of evading recapture…

            It took longer than he wanted, but once he found wet enough ground Tristan dug up clumps of mud, rocks, grass, and leaves and smeared them over every part of his body that he could reach. By the time he finished decorating himself, he was covered head-to-toe in the stuff, and most likely could have made anyone think they had hallucinated the ground moving. That was his hope, at least.

            Another peek at the horizon showed that the sun was well on it’s way. He simply didn’t have much time in the dark left.

            Tristan made his way through the second patch of trees. There were signs that he was getting close to someone else’s land. Literal signs. “PRIVATE PROPERTY” “NO TRESPASSING” “NO HUNTING”. The last one made him chuckle, despite the gravity of the situation. He doubted that their captor would heed that warning when it came to tracking him down.

            He couldn’t let that happen.

            Tristan pressed on.

            There was no escaping the scratches and scrapes from the branches and limbs scattered around. Adrenaline was high, though, and he didn’t feel anything, especially with the aid of his thin layer of dirt armor. The only thing that mattered was getting to that house and getting help.

            A light flicked on in the window of the home, and the sight reinvigorated him. Someone was there. Someone was awake. Someone could help. Holy shit... Holy shit!!

            He took off again, dashing toward a clearing up ahead, but his excitement made him less observant. His toe stubbed against an unseen rock and he tripped, stifling a yelp of pain as he tumbled forward, coming to a stop in the leaf litter.

            It wound up being a good thing. In his haste, he hadn’t noticed the long length of fence that stretched out endlessly before him, blocking the path. He would have run right into it had he not been forcibly slowed down. Tristan cringed as he pushed himself up, taking a look at the barrier.

            It wasnʻt barbed wire, which was what he’d expect for farmland.

            Strange.

            Someone like him was no fence expert. The class field trip out to a farm when he was in elementary school had been fun, but the information portion of the trip was not something he had paid close attention to, and definitely not something he retained in his young adulthood. The animals were cool, but the big machines used to harvest the crops had been even cooler to him. Little Tristan had spent the entire talk staring at every single inch of the monstrously huge combine harvester.

            Maybe if he had been listening to how they kept the animals safe and contained, things would have gone a lot more smoothly for him. Instead, he had tuned out the talk and daydreamed about sitting in the captain’s chair of the machine. Tall, powerful, and ready to reap the splendors of the earth.

            Whatever. It didn’t matter what he had (not) listened to or thought about back then. What mattered now was right in front of him.

            But really? A fence without barbs or other deterrents? It seemed sturdy, like it could stand up to some damage. It would probably be able to keep cows in, even if they were running at it. But humans? The gaps were plenty wide to fit through. All he’d have to do was slip right between the plain bare wires or military crawl under if he was feeling up to the challenge.

            It couldn’t be that easy, though, could it? Surely there was a catch. There were too many signs posted around for the farm’s security to be that lax.

            Unless they were just bluffing. Meant to scare, but fully relying on the honor system for any would-be trespassers.

            Tristan approached the fence, a bit apprehensively at first, but he eased up when he looked at it closer. No small razors on the thing. It didn’t look rusty, so probably no chance of getting tetanus if he happened to… he didn’t know… faceplant into it somehow? But he’d have to be pretty bad at maneuvering through such a large space for that to happen.

            He studied it for another second, but suddenly felt stupid for doing so. He was burning valuable time. The sky was already growing a light shade of lavender. It wouldn’t be long.

            A flock of birds suddenly burst forth from a nearby tree, making his heart nearly leap out of his chest at the unexpected noise. What followed was much scarier: A sound cut through the woods. It was distant and well behind him, but unmistakably loud and enraged.

            Their captor roared furiously into his front yard.

            Their plan had been discovered.

            Unconsciously, Tristan had frozen in place, but the continued yelling startled him back to life. This was his only shot. There was no time left. The man was coming.

            Oh Fuck, oh fuck, OH FUCK!!! He was coming!!

            Tristan had to run! He HAD to make it to the house!

            Tristan surged forward and carefully stuck his leg through the middle of the fence without touching any part of it. He landed safely on the other side, but bristled immediately as his foot sank into something cold, slimy, and wet. He had stepped into a cow pie. Old, but still squishy between his toes. Ugh! Oh my god! Gross!

            The unpleasant surprise caused him to lose his footing as he shifted his weight, and he slipped in the dropping; The one thing his clumsy ass didn’t want to do.

            In a panic, Tristan’s hands shot out to grab the fence to catch himself. It wasn’t barbed wire, so he wasn’t worried.

            It wasn’t barbed wire.

            It was worse.

            The second his hands grasped hold of the top line of the fence, his world exploded into a blinding flash of white light, and his body thrashed on its own in a violent, shaking jolt. An involuntary scream ripped from his throat and pierced the morning air as electricity coursed through him.

            What little sense he still had was instantly shattered the second his legs gave out and his inner thigh came in contact with the bottom line. At least it didn’t hit his sensitive parts, but my god, was it close. His heart fluttered, slammed, and quaked, angry, terrified, and completely out of his control. Everything tingled… there was a crackling noise in his head.

            He couldnʻt breathe… he couldnʻt breathe…!!

            Tristan blacked out, completely overwhelmed by the sensation surging through him.

            When he awoke, he was lying flat on his back on the side of the fence that he had come from, dazed, confused, and in pain. He voiced a strangled whimper. 

            What the fuck just happened?!

            The sun crested the horizon, bathing the grass around him in blood-orange light. He blinked slowly and tried to steady his breathing, not yet feeling its warmth, but hoping for relief soon.

            Lazily his gaze drifted over to the fence.

            … the fence…

            It clicked into place in his brain. That sensation… he had been shocked. It was an electric fence.

            That was overkill. For fuckʻs sake, this wasnʻt Jurassic Park. They were just housing cows, not a t-rex…

            His body hurt like hell, but he felt lucky to be alive. If something like that was rated to stop a bull, then who the hell was he to be able to walk away in one piece?

            Walking… Right. Fuck. He didnʻt have time to lay around all frazzled. He had to move. He had to hide before their captor set out to find him…

            Tristan went to roll himself over… to sit up… anything… but shit… SHIT! His arms and legs werenʻt working. No. No, no, no… He needed them to recover from the zap and wake up. He had to get out of there. He had to go!

            He strained and willed his arms to move, gritting his teeth. The most he could manage was a twitch of his fingers. His eyes slipped shut to wait it out, and he prayed that heʻd regain control of his limbs soon.

            Almost as quickly as he had closed his eyes, they shot open again when he heard the slam of a truck door. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Who was that? The farmer? Please, Christ almighty, please let it be the farmer coming to check what had tripped his fence.

            A gruff, angry voice called out, headed for the clearing.

            “Is this where you’re at, boy?”

            Tristan sucked in a horrified gasp.

            It wasn’t the farmer.

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First | Previous | Next

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Day 4!

Bad times for Tristan... What an inopportune moment to lose control of your body and be forced to lay prone. What will he do now?!

This originally-one-part entry turned into two parts (yesterday's post and today's), and wouldn't you know it, there's still more to this little mini-story that I wrote, so you'll get part three tomorrow! I hope it's engaging and that you're enjoying it! <3

Thanks for reading!

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

“We Are TroubleD” Masterpost

Welcome to the "We Are TroubleD" masterpost! Here you will find a list of things related to my OC whump fic "We Are TroubleD"! If any links aren’t working, please let me know!

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Story Overview:

Two college boys have their peaceful lives ripped apart when a ransom-seeking stranger abducts Darius, the son of wealthy parents. The kidnapper gets more than he bargained for when Tristan, Darius’ roommate is home during the invasion. In captivity the friends must lean on each other to survive their harrowing situation and find a way out of their shared hell.

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Rating:

18+ - contains mature themes

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Series content warnings, Chapters, FAQ and more below the cut!

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Content warnings:

Please note that each chapter/entry will have its own individual content warnings listed at the top of its page. Not all of these elements will appear in every chapter (especially the more intense and mature things, those will come much later in the story and will have clear warnings, so you should be safe for a while if you want to avoid that stuff!)

Overall warnings for this story’s content include (but aren’t limited to):

abuse (physical, emotional, and mental), blood, bondage, cages, captivity, crying, distress, drugging, dub-con, emotional whump, fear, forced participation (in sexual and non-sexual acts), gaslighting, hunger/starvation, hurtful language, injuries, insults, kidnapping, manhandling, non-con (both sexual and non-sexual), pet whump, physical violence, shocking, sickness, stress positions, swearing, things that are neither safe nor sane, thirst, threats, restraints

This list will be updated as things come up or need to be removed.  

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Character Profiles:

Coming Soon!

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Canon story:

Coming soon!

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Misc. entries and one-shots (some might be worked into the canon story later):

Listed in chronological order, even if they were posted out of order due to an event/whump prompt.

Saturdays Are For Soup - (Pre-Capture) - Tristan pushes himself too hard and needs a hand from Darius. - Day 9 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

The Capture (Darius' POV) – Darius comes home to an unwelcome surprise after a night out on the town – Day 1 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Come To and Find You - Darius wakes up feeling miserable, and quickly finds himself in a terrifying situation. He isn't alone, though... - Day 11 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

It's Never Enough – Darius and Tristan are in need of sustenance, but their captor likes to play sick games – Day 2 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Painted Into A Corner - Tristan takes a bold stand against their captor and lands both himself and Darius in a heap of trouble. - Day 3 of Whumpmas in July

Below the Belt - Darius tries not to scream as he faces the painful, stinging consequences of his actions - Day 9 of Whumpmas in July

Cut Me Loose – A crazy stroke of luck allows the boys a chance to escape if only they can cut through their bonds. – Day 3 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

A Shocking Offence – Tristan must find help if he hopes to save both Darius and himself. – Day 4 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Feeling Bushed – With their captor so close, Tristan must be very careful to avoid being spotted. – Day 5 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Feeling Bushed - Trailing Behind - You never know who's watching...

A Breathtaking View - Darius is desperate to buy Tristan more time to find help - Day 14 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak no Evil - The captor returns from searching for the escaped Tristan, and Darius is left wondering just what happened to his friend. - Day 8 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

White Out - Darius slowly loses himself mentally, physically, and emotionally. - Day 6 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Reunited and Ignited - Things heat up when Darius and Tristan's reunion does not go how they hoped it would. - Day 15 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Burning For You - Darius has Tristan's back, but who's got his? - Day 13 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Dinner and Unmoving - Tristan is plagued by a food coma while their captor follows his own agenda. - Day 27 of Whumpmas in July

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Alternate Universes (AUs):

Royal AU - "The Relationship That Binds Us" - When Prince Darius is presented with an assistant, the last thing he expects is to fall in love. While earning the servant boy's trust, he fails to see what trouble is brewing right within the castle walls... - Day 10 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

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Fun and games:

Ask box trick-or-treating 2024! - Darius and Tristan answered the door on Halloween night for anyone who wanted to visit! Did the guests get tasty treats, or spooky surprises? (Not whumpy, just lighthearted fun!)

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Art:

Coming soon!

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FAQ:

Weren't Tristan and Darius called “T” and “D” before? Yes, for a long time several entries had the boy's names as their stand-in names, which were "T" and "D". I wanted to get the entries that I wrote for WoW's Birthday Whump Event! posted in time for the month that the event was happening, so Tristan and Darius were still nameless when I initially started posting pieces of the story. That is also why you might see comments below entries, my own personal tags, and several other things on this blog referring to the characters as "T" and "D". Their names weren't properly bestowed them until 7/17/2024, even though they had been around on this blog since 4/1/2024.

Does their captor have a name? Yes, but I'm not sure what it is yet. Like Tristan and Darius, I didn't have one in mind when I started writing and posting the event entries. He might get one later, but for now he's just "their captor" or "the man".

How old are the characters in your main story? Darius and Tristan are college age, though Iʻm not sure what specific ages yet. Theyʻre both beyond legal drinking age, and Darius is slightly older than Tristan. Thatʻs all I know for now, as Iʻm still writing the main canon story.  Tentatively I have set Tristan's age at 22, but that is subject to change. They might be older or younger in side fics/AUs. If so, Iʻll state it in the post of the story entry itself.

Why is the “D” capitalized in “We Are TroubleD”? Because the character's initials make up the title of the story! The "T" comes from "Tristan" and the "D" comes from "Darius", therefore, "T"rouble"D"! The "We" is Tristan and Darius, and they are in trouble because they are whump characters.

How often will you update the canon story? Hopefully frequently once I get it off the ground, but you can never really predict that. Iʻm going to try to have as much as I can done of the whole story before I start posting in earnest, so hopefully once it starts going you wonʻt have to wait long!

Can I draw/write about your characters? Sure! Though it might be a bit challenging without references or profiles for them yet. Fingers crossed Iʻll have those made for the future! The one thing I ask is that if you create anything with my characters, please link back to me and donʻt claim them as your own. Thanks!

[i-eat-worlds]

Wow Birthday Whump Masterlist

Aaron, Phoenix, Kai, and HAL belong to @pigeonwhumps

Day 1: Kidnapping / Bound and gagged / "I have your loved one."

Day 2: Starvation / Thirst / "Please..."

Day 3: Crying / Parting Words Regret / "Why...?"

Day 4:Electrocution / Waterboarded / "Anything but that!"

Day 5: Alt. Bridal Carry / NO!"

Day 6: Nonhuman whumpee / Reluctant Whumper / "Run!"

Day 7: Bloodied knuckles / Wounded / "Is that blood?!"

Day 8: Stranded / Team whump / "Is anyone there?!"

Day 9: Aftermath of rescue / Sickness / "You're burning up."

Day 10: Hypothermia / Heat flashes / "Bind them."

Day 11: Alt. Forced to Hurt A Loved One

Day 12: Magic exhaustion / Collapsed / "So tired..."

Day 13: Natural Disaster / Shock Collar / “Shut Up!”

Day 14: Guilt / Chased / "I bought you time, use it!"

Day 15: Hidden injury / Outnumbered / "I'm sorry