#wow birthday whump [day 9]

[pigeonwhumps]

Superhero's pet

WoW's birthday event: day 9: aftermath of rescue | sickness | "you're burning up"

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Caretaker's rescued Villain from Superhero from years in his 'care'. But that doesn't mean things are easy, especially when he's still her boss.

The blame for this goes entirely to @echo-goes-mmm.

1.9k

CWs: Villain whump, pet whump, severe self-dehumanisation, past dehumanisation, past animalisation, asking for punishment, past torture

Caretaker prepares for work quickly and silently nowadays. She needs the extra time, because she has someone else to look after now.

Villain. Superhero's former plaything. The test case in the new villain rehabilitation programme.

Or, as they call themself – pet.

They wanted to be called dog. They were called dog. But pet somehow seems like a slight improvement. They use that now, for themself.

They have the same routine every day Caretaker works, and it seems to help. She wakes them up once she's completely ready to leave. She'd gladly leave them asleep, but the one time she tried, they panicked and hurt themself. She hasn't tried since.

She shakes them gently awake. They're asleep on a human-sized pet bed in her room, snuggled under a large blanket until only the tip of their satin bonnet is visible.

They wouldn't take the bed in the spare room, insisting that "pets don't deserve beds," and she wasn't letting them sleep on the carpet. This was the compromise, when she realised even a room to themself was too much.

They wake and push themself immediately to their hands and knees, reaching out to kiss Caretaker's trainers. She takes a step back.

"Hey, buddy. You don't need to do that, remember?"

Villain trembles, forehead dropping to meet the hard carpet. "Your pet is sorry, Mistress. Please punish it."

"Not happening. Come on, get dressed and then it's time for breakfast."

Caretaker turns her back as quickly as possible as Villain starts stripping without a care who's there. She's not sure she wants to know what Superhero did to make them like this.

They won't take off their collar, insisting that it'll make them a "bad dog", but there's no bell any longer and she's working on the tag.

"Your pet is dressed, Mistress."

"Good pet." She hates the term, but they practically glow when she calls them it so maybe it's worth it? "Follow me."

Villain crawls behind Caretaker, settling into a knelt position when they reach the kitchen. She stifles a sigh. They've come on since she brought them home, but there's still a long way to go. The number one priority of which is to get them to eat like a person.

"What would you like to eat this morning, Villain? Crumpets or toast with jam?" They were their two favourites before they vanished, she knows. And they're edible with fingers, which... Caretaker doesn't ever want to watch them eat like an animal again.

"Whatever Mistress desires."

"Well I would desire you to make a decision. It's okay, I won't punish you for it."

Villain pales, visibly trembling again. "May this pet... may it have crumpets, please, Mistress? It understand if it requires a reminder of its position instead, but please show mercy on your pet for following your instructions." Then they cringe away, repeating under their breath in a monotone, "Good dogs don't ask for mercy. Good dogs take what they're given. Good dogs need regular reminders."

"Shh, buddy. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

Villain's breath hitches. "Please remind this pet of its place, Mistress. It needs regular reminders, This pet is a bad, bad dog and it needs to learn its place."

Caretaker winces. Why does 'dog' sound so much worse than 'pet'?

"You're not a bad pet. You're very good already. Is that where your scars are from?"

"Some, Mistress. This pet requires maintenance."

Caretaker nods, glad she's already eaten. She sets the dog bowl in front of them. "Eat your breakfast."

Villain obediently lifts a crumpet (and god, at least they're using their hands now) and hunches over it, eating like they'll never be fed again.

For all Caretaker knows, that could be a plausible possibility in their mind. Did Superhero threaten that? Villain is still underfed.

She watches as they polish off their meal. As she has before, she wonders if she's using the right pronouns anymore. Sure, it/its are conditioned into Villain, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't use them. Does it?

"I'm going to work today, Villain. While I'm gone, I'd like you to clean the dishes and look after your goldfish. You can go out on the balcony if you like, but no further outside. I'm sorry, we can't risk it yet. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good pet."

Caretaker bends down and scratches behind their ear, which they lean into eagerly. "Stay safe."

Then she leaves, unable to think of anything else to say.

_

Superhero has asked to see her.

Superhero has asked to see her.

Caretaker would be nervous normally, because now she's finished her training he only ever calls her in when she's failed, but now... what if he's found out about Villain? As a technopath it was simplicity itself hacking into the system to investigate the rehabilitation centre, but what if she left some trace of herself behind? Online, at the centre itself, in her behaviour over the past few weeks... she could've done anything.

As she walks through the building, she passes many people, some of whom smile or call out greetings. She wonders just how many know what Superhero's been doing.

She hadn't. Villain had been missing for two years and god, she was so naïve. Believing Superhero's reassurances (when she dared to ask) that they were being well taken care of, and he'd visited himself, the conditions were completely up to scratch. They should be no worry of Caretaker's now. His terrible lies that make her blood boil.

She knocks on his office door and waits for a response before entering.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

His eyes are ice cold behind his smile. "Yes. I wanted to ask how you're doing."

"Sir?"

"After Villain's escape. I notice your success rate is down recently."

"Oh." She twists her fingers behind her back. Of course she has, she's not arresting anyone else to be hauled off and tortured into Villain's state or worse. "I'm sorry, sir, I've just been worried about Villain." Not a lie. "I'll do better."

"Mm." He steeples his hands together under his chin, watching her steadily with the gaze of the agency's golden boy, and it's in moments like these that she's reminded of how brutal his training was. How unforgiving. "Any idea where he could be?"

Her mind flashes back to a morning during Villain's first week with her, when they'd licked spilt jam off the kitchen floor because "bad dogs don't waste food".

"No, sir."

"Pity. As their nemesis, I expect you to do better."

"I expect you to do better, Caretaker. We'll try again in an hour."

Caretaker shivers. At least she no longer has to be trained by Superhero.

Why did she ever like and trust him?

"Sorry, sir."

"Let me know if you find anything. Dismissed." He flicks a hand towards the door and she exits obediently. You don't argue with Superhero, even if you're not trying to keep a low profile.

Às soon as she's far enough away, she leans against a wall and closes her eyes, breathing hard. She is so, so glad she doesn't regularly carry a knife around with her. Stabbing Superhero 47 times in the chest might be a slight giveaway that she no longer likes him.

_

Caretaker returns home to the smell of chemicals and Villain kneeling on the freshly-cleaned carpet, behind an array of implements. Lighter, matches, fire poker, broom, knife, bleach, rope, salt...

"Villain, what..."

"You have been stressed, Mistress, and this pet is overdue its maintenance. This pet thought that this might help, as it did Master." Then they say somewhat proudly, "This pet used its initiative, as you requested. Has it pleased you, Mistress?"

The pieces finally click and Caretaker stumbles back, hand flying to her mouth, horrified. Villain thought... Caretaker would want to torture them because she was stressed? More than that, they fetched all these torture implements and brought them together in an effort to please her, knowing how they would be used?

"I... put those away, Villain, please. We won't be needing those tonight. And once you're finished go and wait in the living room. I think we need to talk again."

"Yes, Mistress." They pick up the first implement (a hammer) and crawl awkwardly towards the cupboard where the DIY stuff is kept. Caretaker thinks about reminding them they can walk, but they're shaking so much already. It probably wouldn't do any good.

She changes into something more comfortable before turning the kettle on, her own hands shaking. God. It feels like every day she discovers some new, despicable thing Superhero has done. Forget the knives – she could kill him with her bare hands.

She used to just be able to relax after work. Those were the days. But– she can't very well just leave Villain. They're her responsibility, and she's their only option.

Sighing, she carefully carries two cups of chamomile tea into the living room and sets them down on the coffee table. Villain is knelt in what must be the most uncomfortable corner of the room – difficult to find, as the place is tidier than she's ever seen it.

"Will you come and join me on the sofa, please, Villain? Or at least beside the sofa, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

She's sure they'll do that, they always do, and she arranges soft cushions on the hard carpet to make it more comfortable, since the rug doesn't reach far enough. At least she's always had far too many cushions.

She lives in hope that one day they'll feel comfortable enough to start using furniture again.

"So, first things first. Thank you for cleaning the house so thoroughly. It's never been so sparkling. You didn't have to, but I'm very grateful you did. And I'm proud of you for using your initiative, please keep doing so. However, stop bringing me torture implements. That's an order. I'm not going to punish you, Villain, and nobody deserves being hurt by any of that. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. This pet apologises for not letting you choose the method of punishment completely. It will do better in future."

"No, that's not what I–" She cuts off, pinching her brow. She's not going to get them to understand, at least not yet. "Thank you, buddy. Now, why don't we both relax? I'll find us something we'll both like."

"Yes, Mistress."

They settle for an episode of Great British Bake Off in the end. Not that Villain ever comments either way, but they did when they still fought each other and if Villain lied to her about their preferences then that's their own fault.

Villain rests their head on her lap and watches the screen sideways, eyes half-closed. Caretaker rubs small circles into their shoulders.

She feels so incredibly guilty for arresting them in the first place. She's responsible for this, albeit indirectly. The Villain she knew would never have forgiven her.

Speaking of which...

"Why are you never angry with me, Villain? I'm the reason you were tortured for two years."

Villain glances up from under their lashes for just a second.

"Good dogs don't bark."

[writingphoenix]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 9

This might be the last part I get up in April, we'll see. I've started on Day 10 but I've got a busy day today and might not be able to finish in time. Here's the masterlist. It's super short but I didn't really have much more to add for this part.

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

When Nathan woke up, he realized something was not right. He felt clammy even though there was a blanket on top of him and he felt so sweaty. His skin felt super sensitive, like he had just been shocked again. He felt weaker than he had before.

Josh came into the room and looked relieved that Nathan was awake.

“Thank goodness you’re awake, dude. You’re burning up.” Nathan tried to respond but the words came out as an unintelligible croak. Josh handed him a bottle of water and he gratefully drank it. 

“I did find soup, would you like any?” Josh asked. Nathan nodded. Any food would be good. Nathan lifted his hand like he was making a phone call. Josh shook his head.

“No, I wasn’t able to find one at all. I’m… I’m not sure what the next step is but you’re not in any condition to go anywhere or be left alone for long so I figure we’ll hunker down here and hope my uncle doesn’t find us.”

Nathan didn’t know what else to do so he ate the bowl of soup Josh brought and fell back asleep.

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

We Are TroubleD - "Saturdays Are For Soup" - (Pre-capture)

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

Day 9 (my chosen prompts are bolded) - Aftermath of rescue / Sickness / "You're burning up."

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

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Content warnings: Food, sickness, medicine (pills), nausea mention, trouble breathing, trouble sleeping

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            The boys should have won an award for their dedication to academic excellence… or at least that’s what Darius thought. After all, it wasn’t typical for either of them to spend their entire Saturday tucked away in the university library unless it was absolutely necessary. Apparently today it was absolutely necessary, and Darius made sure to voice his displeasure about it.

            “You don’t actually want to be here all day, do you?” he questioned as they scaled the stairs to the building’s second floor. Tristan shook his head and adjusted his backpack.

            “Of course I don’t, but I told you, if I don’t meet this deadline then I’m screwed. I can’t focus at home right now… A few too many sleepless nights. I need a change of scenery.”

            “But on a Saturday?” Darius griped. He was being a little dramatic about it, partially playing it up for laughs, though he genuinely wasn’t into the whole idea.

            Tristan rolled his eyes. “I never said you had to stay. Hell, you didn’t even have to come. I just offered in case you wanted to get a head start on your stuff for next week. You’d be wise to do so.”

            Darius considered his friend’s words and made a small “tch” out of the corner of his mouth. Good ol’ Tris… he was right as usual and was just looking out for Darius' best interests. He did have an essay that he was dreading writing for his art history class, and he supposed there would be some decent resources for that somewhere in the stacks. Begrudgingly he admitted to himself that it would be smarter to stick around to get a jump on it rather than putting it off until the night before, which was his usual M.O. for writing projects.  

            “Ugh, fine. You’re right. But I might bounce in a few hours. It’s too nice outside today to stay cooped up in here.”

            He didn’t see it, but a small smile spread over Tristan’s lips. Atta boy.

            When they made it to the second floor, Tristan was breathing heavier than usual, his cheeks flushed a gentle pink. Darius frowned as Tristan caught his breath.

            “Wow, really?” Darius asked. They had walked up those stairs dozens of times, and they had never tired Tristan out before. “You okay?”

            Tristan shrugged it off. “Yeah. I dunno, just a little winded. Must’ve overfilled my bag this morning.”

            He had gone a little crazy on packing for the day; Tristan had stuffed in multiple heavy textbooks, his laptop, a full water bottle, snacks, several notebooks, and anything else he possibly could have needed for a day of marathon working. It was way more than what he usually lugged around on a typical school day, and he felt that pretty much as soon as they had left home. The added weight pressed down onto his shoulders, and he was already tired out.

            Darius spotted two open chairs at a table near one of the large picture windows and made his way over with Tristan trailing behind him. The two of them plopped down their bags and set up their workstations, ready to dive in for the day.

         ��  Tristan was his typical studious self, wasting no time in getting to work on his assignment, but it took Darius longer than he cared to admit to actually get started. He kept jealously staring out the window at people strolling by on the sidewalk below, all dressed up for fun days out.

            Guys were out on the quad tossing a Frisbee around. There was a gaggle of girls filming each other running around with a bubble wand and laughing. Some people were simply lounging on benches under the shade of the trees engaged in conversations. Any and all of that sounded more fun than homework… but it had to get done.

            Beside him, Tristan coughed a few times, jerking away Darius' attention. Message received. Tristan was subtly trying to tell him to get on with his work, and Darius obliged. He pulled out a pencil and opened his notepad to skim his class notes.

            But Tristan kept coughing. Not constantly, but frequently in little spurts. He knocked against his chest with his fist to get his lungs to calm down, then took a swig out of his water bottle.

            “Dusty…” he remarked.

            Darius gave a small chuckle. “This place always is.”  

            Eventually Darius managed to buckle down, and before he knew it, he was flipping through borrowed books, researching, and typing. An hour and a half passed, and he was only broken from his workflow by Tristan making a frustrated grunt.

            Darius glanced up from his screen and saw Tristan staring absently out the window, his brow creased like he was in deep thought. Darius had seen that look on his face before when Tristan was working something out in his mind. It was a look of concentration and pensiveness.

            … But something was off about it today. He looked troubled, like there was something under the surface that was bothering him.

            “See, I knew I wasn’t the only one who wanted to be outside to enjoy the day. I see you staring.” Darius teased.

            Tristan didn’t respond, he simply blinked, then his frown deepened as he continued to stare through the window at nothing in particular.

            ‘Man…’ Darius thought. Tristan was really lost in whatever he was turning over in his mind… probably some big math problem. He was one of those geniuses that could solve really complex stuff in his head. It just came naturally to him. In a way Darius envied that, but he himself never found numbers and figures super interesting like Tristan did.

            Well, Tristan might have been somewhere on another mental processing planet, but Darius was ready for a brain break. He closed his laptop and stretched, deciding it was time to go for a short walk.

            “You want boba?” he asked.

            Tristan’s vision dropped back down to his own laptop keyboard and his lips slightly parted, though he didn’t speak. He still had that frown and thousand-yard stare. Maybe he hadn’t heard Darius.

            “Hey, do you want boba?” Darius repeated. He reached out and lightly tapped the table’s surface in front of Tristan to get his attention.

            With a small jump, Tristan came back down to Earth and finally turned to Darius. His face changed to a slightly surprised expression, though he still seemed distant. Was it Darius' imagination, or did he seem paler, too?

            “Huh? What?” Tristan questioned.

            “I’m going for bubble tea. Do you want some?”

            “Oh. I uh… I dunno. Sure. Thanks.”

            Tristan seemed flustered coming out of his trance, like perhaps he wasn’t all there. He must have noticed how Darius was looking at him, because he shook his head to clear his mind.

            “Sorry, I just feel a bit off. Kinda tired.” he explained. “A drink sounds good. Could you get extra ice? It’s like, stupid hot in here.”

            What the heck was he talking about? The sun was high in the sky, but it was behind the building, not shining directly through the windows. If anything, Darius felt cold in the space. The library tended to blast the AC for whatever reason. How could Tristan feel hot? Weirdo…

            Darius took Tristan’s order but refused his money as per usual. He liked treating his friends to things. It made him feel good.

            It was nice to get out into the sunshine, even if it was just for a brief walk across the way for tea. The library was too stuffy in Darius' opinion. After all, Tristan had just had a coughing fit in there, proving his point. They should both be out in the fresh air. The afternoon felt incredible- there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the temperature was perfect.  Maybe Darius could convince Tristan to pack up long enough to enjoy their drinks outside.

            The line for tea was longer than Darius had anticipated, and by the time he had picked up their drinks and started back toward the library, twenty minutes had passed. Hopefully Tristan didn’t need that tea too badly.  

            Darius approached their spot and found Tristan leaning forward on the table, his elbows bent and his head resting in his hands. His face was completely obscured like he was either crying or was extremely frustrated.

            “You good?” Darius asked, hesitantly setting Tristan’s drink in front of him. “Must be one hell of an assignment if you’re this stumped.”

            Tristan shook his head. “I have a headache.”

            “Did you eat yet today? Drink enough water?”

            “Yeah. I’ve been taking care of myself, I just—” Tristan lifted his head, squinting into the light from the window, but winced and quickly pulled back into himself. He made his way down a little further, placing his arms on the table like a pillow and burying his face into them.

            “Light hurts.” he muttered.  

            Darius swirled the ice around in his drink thoughtfully, then took a sip as he sat down.

            “D’you want to go home?” he asked gently. “Sounds like you have a migraine.”

            “Mm…” Tristan uttered. “No. I still have so much to do. Do you have an aspirin?”

            Darius pawed through his bag but came up empty-handed.

            “Nah, I’m sorry, I’ve got nothing. I can get you some from the campus store if you want?”

            Tristan nodded and Darius stood.

            “Alright, Hang tight. I’ll be right back. You should drink some of your tea while I’m gone. Maybe it’ll help you feel better.” he reached out a reassuring hand, gently clapping Tristan on the back, but his fingers landed slightly above Tristan’s collar and came in contact with the back of his neck. As soon as Darius felt Tristan’s skin, he pulled back and gasped.

            “Whoa! Tris, you’re burning up!”

            “What?”

            “Dude, I think you’re sick.”

            Slowly Tristan sat up, once again squinting into the light. He looked miserable, and unmistakably pale. Darius hadn’t been seeing things before after all.

            “No… I can’t be— ugh, crap, maybe you’re right…” he leaned forward again, dizzily resting his forehead against the heel of his palm as he felt his stomach lurch. “Yeah, I’m nauseous…”   

            “Here, I’m gonna pack up. Let’s get you home.”

            Tristan made a stubborn noise of protest, though it sounded strained. He knew better than to stick around in such a state, but if he went home then what about his project?

            “Dair, I’ve gotta finish this…”

            His friend crossed his arms. “You won’t get anything done if you’re under the weather, plus you’re gonna infect everyone in this library if you stick around. Come on. You clearly need to lie down. Pack up your books. You can read them in bed.”

            One of Tristan’s hands clenched over his stomach, and the other curled into a fist to mediate the pain.

            “Fine…” he took a second to collect himself, then slowly began to gather up his belongings. Tristan placed things in his bag through half-lidded eyes, his head sagging wearily a time or two like he just couldn’t handle it.  Darius helped him along as soon as he had gotten his own things packed up.

            Tristan got to his feet and reached down for his backpack. He grabbed a strap and pulled up, but once it was taut the bag didn’t lift off of the ground. He cringed with effort and wobbled unsteadily as his arm hung loose.

            “I’m so sorry to ask you this…”

            He didn’t need to finish the request. Darius was already bending down to grab his bag in addition to his own. Darius hefted both backpacks onto his twiggy little shoulders and felt his eyes bulge in surprise under the weight. God, why were Tristan’s textbooks so heavy?! The kid must have crazy muscles to be able to haul even one of those around every day. No wonder he was so worn out. Darius took a breath and quickly wrestled his face into a neutral—no, calm and pleasant, so Tristan wouldn’t worry—expression, then helped Tristan to his car.

            Tristan attempted to force the veneer of being in better shape than he was, but the illusion shattered almost immediately after he buckled himself into the passenger seat. He was napping before they even got out of the university parking lot. Once they arrived home, he limped up to their apartment and made a beeline for the couch.

            “Uh-uh. Real bed.” Darius ordered. Poor Tristan looked ready to drop, and the couch was the first thing he saw, but he needed a proper rest. The boy nodded distantly, then slunk off to his room.

                                               ***

            Tristan was out pretty much the second his head hit the pillow, and wound up being down for a few hours. He managed to sleep for quite a while, but it wasn’t always solid. It was hard to get comfortable, and he tossed and turned while battling weird dreams and body aches. He woke up a few times, never fully flashing back into full consciousness, though he was able to do a few things in his stupor.

            One time he woke up to pills and a glass of water on his bedside table. He swallowed them down, then conked out again.

            When he woke up another time, there was a thermometer. He stuck it under his tongue and waited. When it beeped, he pulled it out and checked the tiny screen. He had a temperature alright.

            Another time the water had been refilled and there were saltine crackers on a plate. Darius was watching out for him, and Tristan was thankful.

            Finally, Tristan woke up fully sometime in the evening and pulled out his phone to catch up with whatever he had missed in the world while he was resting. He was already feeling a little better thanks to the water and pain relievers that Darius had left him.

            While he scrolled, a delicious smell wafted into his nostrils… heavenly… at least what he could make out through his stuffy nose. In the kitchen he heard Darius humming a tune contently to himself over the sound of the stove’s fan. He must have thought Tristan was still asleep; It was rare to hear Darius singing out loud unless he either thought he was alone or was in the mood to not care if he was heard. Tristan didn’t recognize the song, but it was nice to hear Darius sound so relaxed. It made him feel more at ease.

            Tristan reached for a tissue and blew into it, sniffling after the fact. Ugh. Whatever this cold was, it sucked. A shiver ran through him. He had woken up drenched in sweat, and it was cooling a bit with the air around him. He hated the way it felt on his skin- more gross than anything. He peeled his shirt off and tossed it aside on the floor, then peered over at his closet door longingly, willing for a fresh shirt to magically float on over to him. That wasn’t going to happen, though.

            Timidly Tristan threw off the covers and made to stand up, but right as he did, there was a quiet knock on his door. Darius turned the handle, then poked his head in.

            “Are you decent?” he asked. He was joking, but Tristan flopped back down to his bed and swiftly yanked the top sheet up over himself.

            “No, actually.” he responded, but Darius was already looking at him, his eyebrows raised in surprise.   

            “Oh, I— uh… I-I’m sorry. Do you want me to leave?”

            Tristan sighed, then lowered the blanket down. Whatever, it’s not like Darius had never seen his chest before. He just felt a little self-conscious due to the sickness. It was wracking his brain and not allowing him to think straight.

            “No, you’re fine. Come in.”

            Darius entered fully, carrying a single tier wire shelf in his hands with a baking sheet on top of it. Tristan cocked his head to the side at the sight.

            “I brought you dinner.” Darius explained.

            “Are you carrying it on the shoe rack we bought last week?”

            Darius shrugged.

            “Yeah well, we don’t have a bed table or proper trays, so this was the best I could come up with. I promise the shelf’s clean. I just took it out of the packaging.” his eyes quickly scanned Tristan up and down. “Did your fever burn your shirt off?”

            “Too sweaty.” Tristan replied. He reached up and finger combed his hair, unsticking it from his forehead in an attempt to look somewhat put together, even though he definitely wasn’t. “Could you grab me another from the closet?”

            Darius set the makeshift tray down for a moment, then did as requested, searching for a soft shirt and plucking it off its hanger. As he pulled it out, he looked at the design on the front and his eyes flashed with recognition.

            “No way.” he said. “Is this from spring break freshman year?” Darius flipped the shirt around so Tristan could see it. There was a screen-printed image of a very cartoony sea turtle in swim trunks riding a surfboard and grinning brightly under some radical font that read “SEAMOUR’S SURF SHACK: PIZZA AND TREATZA!”. Just laying eyes on it brought back memories of the beach trip they had taken with their friends that spring. Darius could practically smell the woodfire pizza oven, the tomato sauce and bubbling cheese from their meal, and of course the saltwater blowing in on the ocean breeze.

            “I didn’t know you bought this!”

            “Oh yeah! That place was the bomb. I wanted to remember it. We should go back there again someday.” Darius tossed Tristan the shirt, and he slipped it on, a nostalgic glimmer in his eyes.

            Darius picked up the shoe-rack-cookie-sheet-tray-table and brought it over to the bed, then placed it down on top of the sheets. Tristan took the thing in and couldn’t contain his laughter. It certainly wasn’t an aesthetically pleasing setup, but it was a thoughtful and creative one, nonetheless. He appreciated the effort.

            “Thanks. That's ingenious, Dair, I'll give you that. What did you bring me?” he looked down at the tray and lit up at the spread before him. There was a bowl of hearty looking soup, a condiment container with a dollop of sour cream in it, and a small plate of sourdough bread slices.

            “Hold on a sec, is this that soup your grandma made us when she visited? Plem… Palm…” Tristan couldn’t quite remember the name, but he definitely remembered the soup. It was incredible.

            “Pelmeni soup, yeah.” Darius said. He seemed pleased that the meal had made an impression on Tristan. “I called her up and got the recipe. This isn’t going to be as good as hers, but I tried. Just thought you could use something solid, y’know? You need strength if you want to kick this thing quickly.”

            Tristan eagerly picked up his spoon and dug in. His shoulders sank in bliss when the flavor met his tongue. The savory taste of the chicken dumplings, the broth, and the vegetables mixed together in a delectable delight, warming both his body and his soul.

            “Oh my god.” he spoke behind another mouthful of the stuff. “Please make this more often.”

            Darius dropped his gaze to the floor and his long black hair flopped in his face, allowing him to hide a flattered little smile.

            “Does that mean you like it? You know I’m not normally a chef or anything. You don’t have to lie if it actually sucks.”

            “Shut up, it doesn’t suck! I’m not lying!” Tristan happily slurped down several more spoonfuls as Darius grabbed his water glass to refill it.

            “Well, that’s a relief. I’m glad I didn’t screw it up.”

            Darius went out to the kitchen, then returned with a full glass. He set it down on the bedside table and picked up the thermometer. The screen display had long since shut off.

            “You took your temperature earlier, right? What was it? How are you feeling?”

            Tristan swallowed a bite of bread. “99.1. Guess that’s what I get for not sleeping as much as I should have in the last week or so.”

            Darius scoffed. “Hate to tell you I told you so, but…” Tristan worked too hard, and that was coming from an art student who often was right there with him up late into the night. He had implored Tristan to rest more, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to slow down until his body forced him to.  

            “Yeah, yeah, I know…” Tristan waved him off. “Anyway, I’m feeling a bit better than I was earlier, but I’m definitely still sick. I’m hot and cold at the same time… What gives?!” he scrunched up his features and looked like he had a tickle in his nose. In a flash he had snatched up a tissue and brought it up to his face, where he exploded into it with a sneeze.

            “Mmm, and there’s that.” he sniffed. “Headache’s gone for now, but I feel like there’s a balloon pressing against my sinuses.”

            “Well, eat up, then get some more rest. Sorry about your project. You should email your professor to tell him you’re sick and that it’ll be late.”

            Tristan stirred some sour cream into his soup to make it creamier. “Already did. Thanks for talking some sense into me and getting me out of the library. And for the medicine. And for this.” he nodded down at the food.  

            “Anytime. Let me know if you need anything else.” Darius reached out with his foot and lightly tapped Tristan’s backpack at the base of the bed. “This is here if you want it, but really, get some more sleep.”

            He started to walk out the door, and Tristan’s face fell.

            “You’re leaving?” he asked. Darius looked over his shoulder.

            “Uh, well, yeah. You’re sick, plus you probably don’t want me around bugging you while you recover.” he saw the look in Tristan’s eyes and wavered. “… Do you?”

            Tristan messed with the top sheet absentmindedly, lightly pulling on it and twisting it in his hands.

            “You could hang out if you wanted… I don’t mind the company.”

            Darius peered up at the ceiling and weighed the risks in his mind, then breathed out a fond sigh. It did suck to be alone, especially when dealing with something like a cold.

            “Alright, but you’re wearing a mask.” he said. “I don’t wanna catch it.”

            Tristan sniffed, then blew his nose again and nodded. “Deal.”

            Darius left momentarily, fixing himself a bowl of soup. He grabbed their handheld video game consoles too in case Tristan wanted to play later. Darius might have pointed out the bag full of textbooks on the floor, but he knew that what Tristan really needed was rest and relaxation.   

            He made himself comfortable on the beanbag chair across the room while Tristan finished up his dinner. Once done, Tristan placed the homemade tray table combo on the floor, put on a face mask, and snuggled back down under the blankets. He turned to Darius.

            “So, you remember what happened after Seamour’s, right?” Tristan asked, steering the conversation back to their beach vacation. Behind a mouthful of dumpling, Darius' eyes brightened, and he nodded emphatically. He gulped down the bite and resurfaced for air.

            “Oh my God, how could I forget? We went out to that pier and freaking Landon launched his sandal off the dock… I still can’t believe he managed to fling it off like that.”

            “Right?! How did he do that?!” Tristan laughed. “And then Cici asked that fisherman to try to get it—”

            “And he actually caught it!” Darius finished. The two cracked up. “Like, what kind of luck is that?! Can I have some?”

            The pair reminisced for quite a while, Tristan laughing and smiling through it all despite the discomfort that came with the sickness. It was nice to have a distraction from it, and he really appreciated Darius' company. It was nice that he had stayed.

            They talked and shared stories until Tristan’s eyelids grew heavy and he nestled further down into his pillow. It was about time for bed at that point anyway- hours had passed without either of them noticing. Darius rose and stretched deeply, grabbing his bowl from the floor, and adding it to the tray. He scooped up the whole bundle and deposited it in the kitchen, then returned to insist that Tristan take another round of medicine before sleeping.

            Tristan accepted, removing his mask and taking what Darius gave him before settling in for the night.

            As Darius left, he gave Tristan a friendly tap on the shoulder with one finger.  

            “Sleep well. Call or text me if you need anything. If I’m not sleeping, I’ll come help you.” he said.

            “Will do. Thanks again, Dair. I’m lucky to have you. G’night.”

            Darius peered back from the door frame and smiled softly at Tristan, relieved that he had been able to help him. It was nice to take the evening off to chat, and he was glad that Tristan had asked him to stick around.

            "'Night. Get well soon." Darius flipped off the light switch and closed the door, leaving his roommate content with a belly full of soup and well wishes for a speedy recovery.  

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

Day 9!

Kind of nice to give the boys a break, even though it comes at Tristan's expense. Sorry dude! Luckily with Darius looking out for him and serving him healthy and hearty meals, I think the guy will be back on his feet in no time!

Thanks for reading!

---

Tag list: @dutifullykrispyland, @fleur-a-whump, @gala1981, @generic-whumperz, @risahraun

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Watcher and Apprentice

(The Watcher and the Thief Chapter 1 Scene 1)

A.K.A. The Snippet Where I Realize That a Disconcerting Number of Magicians Are Evil.

next part ->

WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 9: (Alt) Bridal Carry

Whumpril Day 21 (“Just Hold On”), Day 12 (Weak Pulse)

WoW Birthday Whump Prompts List

Whumpril Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

TW: hunting, monster, blood, knife wounds, magic whump, corpses, gunshot wounds

Context: Hector and his apprentice Luc have been tasked with hunting down a sang, a violent creature of the mountains, before it can attack a human settlement. What could go wrong? Everything, apparently.

-----

The Fells held its breath, waiting in anticipation as Watcher and apprentice prowled in the cover of its trees, tracking the path of the rogue sang who’d slipped past the elven blockage. Not a sound could be heard save their soft footfalls and the occasional crunched leaf as Hector’s nephew forgot to pay attention to where he stepped.

Luc hissed in frustration as a twig snapped underfoot. “How do you watch where you’re walking and track the beast at the same time?”

Hector paused and glanced back at him. “You already know the answer to that question.”

Luc scowled. His akinaka was drawn, but he held it lowered, pointed towards the ground. Hector raised his eyebrows, and the boy quickly raised it, muttering an apology. The Watcher pointed to the ground at the footprints in the soft earth, far too big for a human, and at the branches of the trees, broken in the sang’s crazed dash through the forest. Droplets of blood glimmered in the faint moonlight, shining through the leaves overhead.

“It’s injured,” Luc noted, “but we already knew that.”

“Not just that…” Hector muttered, studying the prints with a critical eye. “Look there.” He pointed northeast, back towards the blockade. “Between those two aspens.”

Luc moved towards where he indicated, taking more care to step silently. When he noticed what Hector had found, he swore. “There’s two of them!”

“The second one must’ve slipped past while the elves were occupied with the first,” Hector mused, “there’s no blood.” Either the elves were getting sloppy, or the sang were getting sneakier. Neither option appealed to Hector. It meant more work for him and Luc. They’d been pulled from Caenum to help with the blockade per special request from Takari, and he already wished he’d declined. Dealing with sang was different than dealing with the average human criminal or guarding a politician for a night.

“Well,” Luc said, trying to sound upbeat, “they’ve got two of them, and we’ve got two of us. It’s even now, at least.”

“And one of them is injured,” Hector agreed. “Come. We need to catch up to them before they make it to Zariya.”

Luc made a better effort at stealth this time, akinaka raised in front of him defensively in case they stumbled upon the sang or were ambushed. Unfortunately, the path of the two rogue sang split shortly after joining.

Hector cursed under his breath. “Have to admit,” he muttered, “they can be clever sometimes.” He pointed down the trail the injured one took. Judging from the position of the moon, it was heading southwest. “You track that one, I’ll take the other. We’ll regroup back here. Clear?”

“As crystal.”

Hector eyed Luc’s back as the boy took off down the trail. He appeared a little too excited at the prospect of taking on a sang on his own. He sighed before turning and following his own tracks, a more difficult task.

Without the blood, Hector had to pay more attention to the disturbed undergrowth, the broken branches, the faint footprints. This was part of why he had Luc go after the other one; that one was easier to track. Its injuries would also make it easier to take down, but Hector knew enough of Luc's fighting prowess that the boy could battle even a healthy sang.

Hector quickened his pace. He wasn’t sure how far it would’ve traveled under the cover of darkness, and he wanted to catch up before it reached a settlement. Luc wouldn’t have the same concerns. His target wouldn’t get too far in its current state.

He found the corpse five minutes later.

Sang were powerful creatures; one well-placed blow could snap a man's spine in two. But they were slower, which was part of why the elves had taken charge of the blockade. And few creatures were immune to a bullet to the head or something sharp in the throat.

It hadn’t died from either of those things. The creature lay on the ground, limbs twisted and bent at unnatural angles, mouth open in a silent scream, bleeding from a hundred thin, deep cuts. It was still bleeding, its greenish skin still retained its color. The sang had died recently.

It wasn’t the severity of the wounds themselves or the state the body was in that made Hector whirl around and sprint back the way he’d come. No, it was how the cuts weren’t random slashes by a knife or sword. It was how they were arranged in strange symbols that he couldn’t understand but recognized all too well.

A magician had killed the sang.

And she had done it slowly, making it suffer.

As he ran, Hector tried to convince himself Luc was fine. Perhaps the magician had already killed the second sang and moved on before the boy caught up. Perhaps the boy hadn’t reached the sang yet, and Hector could still join him before they encountered the magician. Or perhaps the magician had no interest in killing humans, only after the rogue sang.

Doubtful. When someone killed in such a way, magician or not, they had no respect for life. Hector quickened his pace, shedding stealth for speed. He had to find Luc.

He had reached the point where the paths divided and was only two steps down the injured sang’s trail when he heard a blood-curdling scream. Hector’s akinaka blade was already out, but he slipped his handgun from its holster as he ran. He favored the akinaka or the crossbow for stealth—the gun was far too loud—but in situations like this, stealth was out the metaphorical window.

The injured sang hadn’t gotten as far as the healthy one, so he reached the trail's end in minutes. Moonlight reflected off the magician's silver cloak as she crouched over Luc, facing away from Hector. She was between him and the boy, but he could see that Luc was on the ground, motionless. The sang’s corpse lay a few feet away from them, body twisted and mangled, identical to the other one.

Hector didn’t wait to discover her intentions, firing a warning shot as soon as he came within range. The bullet whizzed inches from her head, and she flinched away, revealing what she’d been doing. She had drawn a complex circle of runes into the soft earth underneath Luc’s body, the circle glowed with a faint reddish light as blood dripped upon it. Luc’s blood.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Only two out of the four total shots hit her, one in the shoulder and one in the side, as she dove madly to the side. She lurched away, free hand clutching her injured shoulder. Hector stared her down, gun and blade raised.

She hissed softly, frustration obvious. For a moment, she seemed to consider attacking. But she thought better of it, turning and fleeing into the night. Hector watched her go, gun and knife raised. The moment she was out of sight, he stowed his weapons and dropped to his knees beside Luc.

The boy still breathed, thank the celestials, but his pulse was weak, and the blood from the runes the magician had carved into his flesh oozed out in a steady stream.

“Luc? Luc!” Hector shook him, but he didn’t wake up. Hector cursed vehemently and scooped him up. She hadn’t finished her work. He wasn’t dead yet, but he would be if Hector didn’t get him to a doctor.

“Just hold on, kid,” he muttered as he started to run, Luc’s limp body held tightly in his arms, “just hold on.”

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @whumpril

[whumperofworlds]

WOW BIRTHDAY WHUMP EVENT

Welcome to another year of my birthday whump event!!! This year is gonna be good because I will be hitting the big 30! So for that, as suggested by a lot of you, I decided to have a little theme for this year: my favorite trope of all time, used as bait!

This event runs on April 1-15! The event ends on April 30th! However, you're more than welcome to start early or late!

And of course, we have completionist and participant badges like last year! Just note: to get the completionist badge, you must post your prompts before the end of April 30th!

For those unable to see the picture, prompts and rules are below the cut!

WoW's Birthday Whump Event

PROMPTS

Day 1: Unable to warn would-be rescuers/Trying to scream through the gag

Day 2: Bait for an animal/creature/nonhuman/Fishing with live bait

Day 3: Using themself as bait/Volunteering someone else as bait

Day 4: "Come and save them!"

Day 5: Lured into a trap/Springing the trap

Day 6: Forced to give oneself up to save another/Used as bait with a time limit

Day 7: Wide eyes in fear

Day 8: Frantic head shaking

Day 9: "Let them go! I'm the one you want!"

Day 10: "Get out of here! It's a trap!"/Guilt

Day 11 🎉: Used as bait/Parting words regret

Day 12: "I know it's a trap, but I can't leave Whumpee!"/Failed rescue

Day 13: "They won't come for me!"/"You shouldn't have come!"

Day 14: Caretaker used as bait/Team used as bait

Day 15: Caretaker abandons Whumpee

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!)

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. While the prompts are used as bait related, you're more than welcome to interpret the prompts however you please!

6. HAVE FUN!

[whumpsday]

With the Ides of March coming up, March is the perfect month to get into a whumpy mood! Here's some events to help with that!

March events starting today:

🏃 March Trope-A-Thon (@amonthofwhump), prompts here, a 7-day whump event (starts March 15!)

🎭 Whump: The Musical (@whumpthemusical), prompts here, a 31-day musical-themed whump event

📜 The Whumps of March (@storyweaverofgondor), prompts here, a 31-day literature-themed whump event

🌲 Wollemi Whump Event (@merriam-whumpster), prompts here, a month-long, 15-prompt whump event

🌵 March of Pain (@marchofpain), prompts here, a 31-day whump event

April events starting next month:

🩹 Whumpril (@whumpril), prompts here, a 30-day whump event

🎂 WoW's Birthday Whump Event (@whumperofworlds), prompts here, a 15-day whump event

🌧️ Angstpril (@chaos-company), prompts here, a 30-day angst event

🫀 Whump Wars (@folieadeuxserver), info here, a 10-day points-based Hannibal fandom whump event

In addition, I've made a whump event myself for the first time, though it's not seasonal: the Conflict Whump Challenge has 3-9 prompts depending on how you play it.

Have fun and enjoy the coming spring!

Full list of whump events here

[3-2-whump]

3-2-Masterlist

Created: 2/3/24

Updated: 12/6/24

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

North Star Masterlist: An Eternal Sequel

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

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Family Business

Happy Birthday, @awesomesockes! Some Tony & Happy friendship whump for you.

Thanks to @marvelous-writer for your expertise and to @whumphoarder for beta reading!

_______________________

Tony blinks himself awake a few hours later. 

His body seems to weigh a thousand pounds, and there’s a dull underlying pain that warns him not to move. His thoughts are sluggish from the drugs to the point that his head feels as though it’s been stuffed with enough cotton to be exhibited in a natural science museum. The hospital room is dimly lit. It must be night outside, because it’s dark—too dark. The blue light of the arc reactor, always in the periphery of Tony’s vision, is missing. 

For the briefest of moments, he panics. But then it all comes back to him: Happy, his mansion, the snow. A fake Mandarin, and then the real one. Pepper, falling away from him. The heart surgery that brought him to this hospital.

Suddenly, Tony is acutely aware of feeling very sick.

“J,” he starts, then swallows thickly against the bile rising in his throat. “Anyone up?”

The AI’s voice answers immediately from the phone on his nightstand. “Miss Potts is on a video conference call with SI Australia, Mr Rhodes has gone home to shower, and Mr Hogan is in his hospital room, watching Downton Abbey season 2 episode 9 for the eleventh time this month.”

Guilt and nausea are battling each other, but there is no way Tony can get up and make it to the toilet on his own. Hell, the tubes still connected to his chest make it hard to even turn onto his side right now, not even to mention the pain that would cause.

In the end, the desire not to throw up on his hospital bed wins. “Get Happy here,” he orders the AI. 

Tony closes his eyes, tips his head back, and breathes shallowly, willing the contents of his stomach to stay down a bit longer. By the time he hears the squeak of the wheelchair on the linoleum outside, the urge to puke has decreased a little from ‘very urgent’ to ‘annoyingly persistent.’

“Wow,” Happy states as he wheels into the room, “JARVIS wasn’t kidding. You’re white as a sheet.”

“Hey Hap,” Tony gives a little wave with three of his fingers. “Just need a trash can or something. Can’t really get to the bathroom.”

Happy looks around the room. Tony notices that the cast on his right arm has now been replaced by a simple sling, and the bruises have faded almost entirely from his face. His friend is due to be released in the coming days, whereas Tony has to stay at least another week. 

Happy locates one of those signature kidney-shaped basins hospitals always seem to have lying around and presses it into Tony’s hands. “Should I wake one of the doctors?” 

Tony shakes his head as best he can. “It’s just the meds messing with my stomach.”

“Antibiotics, huh?” Happy nods knowingly. “Yeah, been there too.”

There’s a pang of guilt in Tony’s stomach, causing the nausea to intensify again. He struggles to sit up a little and can’t suppress a moan at the pain even that minimal strain brings along.  

“Wait,” Happy quickly interferes, reaching for the remote to raise the head of the bed and prop his friend upright. Tony manages to lift his arms just enough that he can hold the basin under his mouth. He spits a few strings of excess saliva into it. “Sorry,” he manages, feeling his throat go tight.

“‘S okay, boss. No offence, but as long as you’re puking in this and not on me, I’m glad. Still remember that time in Singapore.” He wrinkles his nose up at the recollection. “That curry didn’t look great going in, and looked far worse on my pants.”

Tony almost laughs, then coughs, then heaves. He doesn’t have much in him except the yoghurt and toast that made up his meagre hospital dinner, but his stomach doesn’t seem to care. After the first bout of vomiting it just cramps over and over on nothing, every dry heave bringing pangs of agony to his injured chest. 

When he’s done, he feels almost lightheaded, be it from the pain or the lack of sustenance. He weakly lets his head fall back against the pillow, trying to catch his breath.

“You alright?” Happy’s casualness can’t hide a tinge of worry when he pries the basin from Tony’s hands to rinse it out.

“‘M good,” Tony breathes, then grimaces as another spike of pain reverberates through his chest. He involuntarily brings a shaky hand to where the remnants of his sternum are covered in bandages.

Happy frowns. “You want me to up your morphine? Or you can have some of my Vicodin?” he offers. “I forgot to take my evening dose―Matthew was in the middle of his proposal to Mary.”

“Nah. ‘S okay,” Tony declines wistfully. He’d love to drug himself to the point of oblivion just about now, but an opiod addiction is the last thing he needs during his efforts to get his life back on track. “Just gimme some water to rinse.” The taste of vomit in his mouth is enough to almost make him gag again.

Happy gets a glass of water and then awkwardly holds the now empty basin under Tony’s mouth, who swirls and spits before shakily wiping his lips. Maybe it’s exhaustion or the pain or the meds he’s arguably still doped up on, but Tony feels the sudden urge to somehow express his gratitude to the man who left his own hospital bed in the middle of the night to care for the person who couldn’t protect him in the first place.

“I…” he starts when Happy has taken the basin away, then trails off when it occurs to him that he has no idea what to say.

“...should go to sleep,” Happy finishes for him. 

“Nah.” Not when he can avoid it. Tony hasn’t dreamed of New York since defeating Killian, which is a plus, but he’s seen Pepper fall almost every time he closed his eyes. “Let’s do something fun. Hey, I just survived a major experimental heart surgery. I’m allowed to celebrate a bit.”

“Yeah,”  Happy gestures around the hospital room. “Great party you got going here.”

“Still better than your last birthday. Pepper told me you watched Jane Austen with your 80-year old neighbour and were in bed by nine.”

Happy looks mildly offended. “Elenor is only 76.”

In the end, they find Die Hard playing on one of the channels of the small TV that Tony has neglected so far in favour of his phone. Happy maneuvers himself out of the wheelchair and onto the smaller cot that Pepper had slept on the first night after Tony’s surgery, propping up his injured leg with an extra pillow. Despite his insistence on staying awake, Tony has a hard time keeping his eyes open. The world’s a bit hazy now, and, though he would never admit it, Happy’s presence makes his whole post-surgery anxiety much more bearable.

Bruce Willis has just taken out another terrorist when Happy suddenly turns to Tony, his expression having grown serious. “Just wanted to say―it wasn’t your fault, boss.” 

Tony blinks at him, wondering when his own emotional state became so transparent.

“You know it’s my job to look out for you,” Happy continues. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

“Hap,” Tony sighs, “No offence, but I literally have an iron suit of armour for protection. I really think we’re past the bodyguard stage now.” 

“Exactly.” Happy grins. “We’re family.”

_________________

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

_______________________

[walviemort]

how quickly things change

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DARLING FRIEND @sherlockianwhovian!!!!! Hope you’ve had the most amazing day full of all your favorite things!! And thank you for helping me embrace a side of me I’d hardly let out to play...which means I couldn’t let your birthday pass by without a fun bit of mpreg (with a wee bit of whump!) Hope you enjoy it, love, and keeping being awesome!!!

Summary: The Black Fairy is up to no good, as usual, this time setting her sights on Storybrooke’s favorite True Love couples. She needs the products of their true love—and she’s not patient. For an extra sadistic twist, why not have the guys carry out her bidding? When Killian and Dave are faced with a two-week pregnancy, how do they handle it—and how do they protect their families?

5.2k | Rated T | AO3

“Eat up,” Granny told them in her usual friendly-but-commanding way. And David and Killian weren’t about to argue; they were starved after a night of surveillance, trying to figure out just what the Black Fairy was still up to. At least, with the sleeping curse broken, Snow and David were back to full strength, but that just meant they were working twice as hard to take down this villain and save Emma from whatever fate lay ahead.

Wordlessly and voraciously, the two men dug into their meals as they sat hunched over in a booth. They just needed to eat, and go home and recoup; after a fruitless night, they just wanted to sleep and then come up with another plan.

If they noticed that anything tasted different than usual in their meals, they were too tired to comment on it and chalked it up to fatigue anyways. Once they were done scarfing down breakfast, David tossed some cash on the table, nodded at Granny as they headed out the door, and then drove Killian home. And later in the day, when they were both suffering stomach aches, they just took some antacids and figured it was stress.

What they didn’t see—nor anyone, for that matter—was Granny slipping into the back room behind the kitchen and locking the door behind her, before a swirl of black smoke engulfed her and left the Black Fairy herself standing there. The real Granny lay unconscious, as a result of a sleeping spell, on some sacks of flour in one corner of the room. Gideon stood up from his seat in the opposite corner and approached his grandmother.

“Is it done then?” he asked.

The Black Fairy nodded. “Indeed; everything is going to plan. Soon we’ll have exactly what we need to enact our curse—the product of true love, twice over.”

“Can I ask—why the men?” Gideon wondered, curious.

She shrugged and giggled. “Why not? It’s more of a surprise that way, isn’t it?”

“So what do we do next?”

“Be patient and lay low; in two weeks, we’ll have all we need.” She gave a sinister smile that quickly morphed back into Granny’s. “Let’s get back to work, boy,” she told him from her disguise.

Gideon transformed himself to look like the fry cook and they headed back out to the diner.

A mile away, new life was quickly growing in two unsuspecting bellies—but they’d find out soon enough.

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

“You don’t look so hot, mate,” Killian quipped at David a few days later. They were eating breakfast at the loft, trying to find some sense of normalcy despite the ongoing sense of doom. Emma and Snow were doing some wedding planning at the table, but David looked like he was about to lose his meal.

“I must have ate too fast or something,” David brushed off. “Just feeling a bit nauseous.”

“Have any ginger tea around? That’s what we’d always give a seasick sailor.”

“Yeah, I think we have some leftover from when Snow was pregnant; I’ll give it a try.”

When the tea kettle began to hiss a few minutes later, Killian too requested a mug.

“Maybe there’s a stomach bug going around?” David wondered as he sipped his tea.

“Just what we need,” Killian complained.

Their thoughts seemed to be confirmed not an hour later, when both men were dashing for the toilet.

Snow and Emma told them to stay home that day and rest, and made sure they were well stocked with ginger ale and saltines as they went off for the day, taking baby Neal with them. They spent the rest of that day and the following one splitting their time between the bathroom and the couch as the illness held a grip on them, though it started to loosen its hold later in the second day.

“Thank bloody goodness,” Killian sighed as he slumped into bed that night, finally feeling normal again, even if his midsection still felt sore. He was ready to put that behind him and get back to the task at hand.

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

The next day, they’d convened at the Swan-Jones house around lunchtime to work on things. Snow was already there when David arrived.

“Why did you change your pants?” she asked when he came in. “Did Neal spit up on your jeans?”

“No, uh,” David stammered, looking down at the track pants he’d changed into that he’d hoped no one would notice. “Uh, they were feeling a little snug today, so I put these on instead.”

“Too many pancakes will do that,” Killian quipped as he set out some sandwiches for lunch.

David rolled his eyes, but tried to take the attention of him and redirect it. “I don’t see you giving Killian any crap for wearing a tshirt instead of his usual getup,” he grumbled at Snow.

Now it was Killian’s turn to blush.

“No, babe, he’s right—are you feeling okay? Is the stomach bug still bothering you?” Emma asked.

“Er, no, just��I may have had a similar problem as Dave, as far as clothes fitting properly,” he explained scratching behind an ear.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Snow said, confused. “You’ve barely been able to hold anything down the last two days; if anything, your clothes should be a little loose.”

“Um,” Emma started, running her hands up and down Killian’s abs. “Then what’s this solid thing in my fiance’s belly?”

Snow turned to David and found the same: something was rounding out his stomach from within, and it had nothing to do with poor diet. “Maybe we should head to the doctors,” she said quietly, worry filling her gaze as she found her husband’s.

Emma silently agreed, hugging Killian close. What the hell was this?

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

Whale had quickly determined they’d need to do an ultrasound. David went first. And whatever they thought they were about to see was not what showed up on the sonogram screen.

“That’s…” Emma started, but couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Yeah,” Snow breathed.

Even Killian recognized the image: there was a baby in there. He wrapped his arm around his stomach; was that what he had, too?

David had to stay seated after the revelation, and a few minutes later, the exam on Killian revealed the same: they were both impossibly, inexplicably pregnant.

“From the looks of things, you’re at about 14, 15 weeks,” Whale said. But then he squinted at the screen. “Wait...what?” He stared at it some more, then had an assistant zoom in on the image. “Wow, I can actually see it growing; something is accellerating this—by a lot.”

“What the hell?” Emma murmured.

“Bloody magic,” Killian sighed, staring at the ceiling.

“That’s where I’d put my money,” Whale agreed.

Snow nodded, but her pallor was living up to her name. “Okay, okay...let’s call Regina.”

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

They’d barely entered Regina’s mansion when the mayor wrinkled her nose.

“Wow—I can smell the dark magic rolling off of you. What did you boys get into?”

“If we knew, we wouldn’t be here, would we?” Killian snapped back. He wasn’t sure if his short temper was caused by the stress of the situation or the normal emotional fluctuations he knew were part of pregnancy, but he didn’t really care—especially when, now that he knew, he was fairly certain he could feel the fluttering of the fetus inside him.

“Calm down—she’s the only one who can help us!” David yelled at him, similarly distressed. He wrapped an arm around his waist; he was pretty sure he could see his belly growing.

“Everyone just take a breath,” Snow said, oddly calm. “Regina, can you figure this out?”

“Come on; let’s have a seat.” She directed the boys to the sofa in her study, then stood in front of them, one hand extended to each as she magically examined them. Her eyes were closed in concentration and they could only watch as her expression morphed into a furrowed one, then as she raised her brows in surprise before finally opening them.

“Well, damn. That’s all I can say.”

“Uh, you can say more than that, right?” Emma asked, moving to Killian’s side and grabbing his hand.

“I was getting to that,” Regina retorted. “It’s definitely dark magic, but what kind, I’m not sure; I’ve only heard of things like this happening—never seen them. And there is an accellerant, like what you used on Zelena,” Regina explained, nodding at Emma, who suddenly looked sheepish. “But a much lower concentration.”

“So...do you have a due date?” Snow wondered.

“My guess? It looks like it’s going at about 20 times the normal speed, which means the entire duration would be 2 weeks-ish—roughly 3 weeks of a normal pregnancy per day. Did the doctor say how far along?”

“About 15 weeks,” David said quietly.

“So it’s been 5 days,” Regina assessed. “So, you’ve got 9 more or so to go.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian cursed. What the hell was going on?

“Emma, you need to get these two into a safe location. Someone is targeting you for some reason. Wherever you go, set up wards as soon as you get there,” Regina told them, taking command of the situation. “Snow, you’re with me. I think we need to pay a Dark One a visit.”

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

A few hours later, everything was settled for the Nolans to be spending the next several days at Killian and Emma’s house. Neal was settled into one of the spare rooms, while another was reserved to become a new nursery. Emma honestly never thought they’d get the chance for that, and obviously not in the way it was happening, but as terrifying as this all was, she couldn’t deny—she was a little excited, too.

The guys were squabbling over what to order on pizza—Killian wanted anchovies, David wanted olives, which was a change from their normal preferred pepperoni—when Snow and Regina arrived.

“Well?” Emma asked, setting out plates on the dining table.

Regina huffed. “Gold says he knows nothing, and unless it has to do with Gideon, he’s not concerned. He didn’t say it wasn’t his mother, though, and that’s my only theory at the moment.”

“Why would she do this, though?” David wondered aloud.

“Because she’s evil and sadistic?” Killian offered.

“I’m guessing the truth lies somewhere in there,” Regina mediated. “There’s one thing I can say, though, that I forgot to earlier: those are your babies.”

“Like...ours?” Snow asked, wrapping an arm around David’s side.

“Yeah. Those kids have ‘true love’ written all over them. So it may not be the full ‘why’, but it’s definitely part.”

“Thanks, Regina,” Emma said, giving Killian a hug. “You want to stay for pizza?”

“Ew. No. I have lasagna waiting at home.”

“Okay, have fun with that then.”

“I will. And guys?” she added, eyes flitting between Killian and David. “Take care of yourselves, and good luck.”

“We will.” “Thanks, luv.”

Regina headed out, and the four of them settled in to what was going to be a new normal for the next several days.

“To new adventures,” Snow offered as a toast, albeit tentatively.

The other three mumbled it back, but as they quietly ate, they began to realize just how dramatic a ride they were in for.

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

“Say ‘cheese’!” Snow said with forced cheer.

“Cheese,” was the less-enthusiastic response from the guys.

They were standing back-to-back against a blank wall in the living room with their shirts lifted up to reveal the slight curve of their stomachs. For two men who’d always prided themselves on their looks, it felt awkward to be revealing themselves this way, even if they knew what it was.

“Come on, you two,” Snow complained. “Yeah, it’s weird and it’s probably gonna suck, but 10 years from now, we’re going to want to have this documented. Play along?” She said it like a question, but they both knew it was a demand, so they put on some smiles and posed. “Okay; let’s try to do that morning, noon, and night.”

“Seriously?” Killian whined.

“Just do it,” David said under his breath.

And so began the first day of their strange journey. The plan was for the boys to stay at home with Neal while the girls kept things as normal as possible. Snow came by at lunch to check in, and Granny stopped by in the afternoon with some snacks to get them through; they’d told her given that she was one of the few people in town they trusted. Everyone else was just told they were fighting off the flu.

By the end of the first day, Killian knew he was going to have trouble making it through. His ankles hurt and already his tshirt was ready to pull taut against his growing stomach. David wasn’t much better off—his back was aching from the combination of everything going on in his body and Neal’s refusal to be put down that day.

“I wish there was some way to make this a little more...interesting,” he complained to Killian. “I can’t even have a beer, dammit.”

“I’d say this is plenty interesting already,” Killian answered, hand resting low on his belly, not far from where he could feel intense flutters within. “But...perhaps we could set up some wagers?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Who has the biggest belly? Who goes into labor first? Something like that?”

“You’re on, man.”

So, when Snow took their photos that night, they started keeping track of circumference, too—if only to have numerical evidence of all the changes going on.

Their bellies were tied at the start of the next morning, but by nighttime—at what would be 21 weeks in a normal pregnancy—Killian had pulled ahead by a couple centimeters.

But David had more exciting news. “Oh!” he exclaimed, resting his hand on the curve of his stomach. “Snow, come here!”

“What is it?” she asked, rushing over.

“Feel!” David grabbed her hand and put it next to his.

“Oh—oh my god! It’s kicking!” Snow was grinning. “Wow, it’s so fast—faster than these other two were,” she said, nodding at Emma, who was holding Neal.

“I mean, it should be, right?” Emma said.

Killian was woken in the middle of the night by what he had to assume was the same fast-paced wiggling in his own belly—and promptly woke Emma up, too.

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

Their growing stomachs quickly revealed another problem: they were going to outgrow their clothing soon, probably by the next day if not before then.

“I’ll see what I can find in the shops in town,” Emma offered. “But...they don’t exactly make male maternity wear.”

“Maybe some of my old tops would fit Killian?”

“Maybe; just leave the dresses at home.”

“Obviously. Though he could probably rock them.”

“I think I’ll leave that one to you, milady,” Killian quipped back. By that night, he was definitely nearing capacity in his tshirts and was eyeing David’s, hoping to take it when he outgrew them.

“Look at you boys,” Granny gushed. “You carry it all out in front of you, Hook; and Charming—what a cute bump!”

They both blushed as she handed over the bag of pastries, but it was kind of comforting to hear such normal reactions.

Now that the babies had started moving, it seemed like they never stopped; it was probably due to the accellerated nature of their pregnancies, but it grew old rather quickly (as did their frequent trips to the rest room).

“I mean, at least we know they’re growing,” David decided in the middle of the 9th day—somewhere around 26 weeks. “I know that this all started with some dark magic, but I already love this one.”

“Me too, mate. I’ve...I’ve worried that Emma and I would never get this. Whatever lies ahead, at least we have this.” Lovingly, he traced his hand over the growing curve of his belly.

After his shower the next day, Killian was gazing at his reflection. It looked so odd—granted, he already knew that from Snow’s continued documentation (and he still had the lead in circumference), but there was also something somehow perfect about it. He knew that, given the choice, he’d willingly do this if that was what it took for them to have a child. But in the current situation, he only worried for the future.

And then he turned to the side and his tune quickly changed. Nevermind, this monster was destroying his body.

He was in a foul mood when he slumped down in a chair for breakfast. “What’s got you down?” Snow asked from her perch at the stove, making eggs.

“Oh, nothing; just realizing that beauty is temporary and my body will never again be the same.”

She turned down the burner and moved the eggs to the counter. “You’ve got stretch marks, huh?”

“Aye.”

“Do you want to see mine? I’ve got to imagine you’ve seen Emma’s.”

“Yes, I have—and no, you don’t have to. Just...it’s jarring.”

Snow set a plate down in front of him. “I get that. But you’re both doing so well; you can do this.”

“I sure hope so.”

David followed a few minutes later with similar grumbles. Snow wasn’t as gentle with him. “Try dealing with them from two babies!”

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

Ten days into this ordeal, still no one had seen or heard from the Black Fairy in weeks. In reverse of that, Emma’s visions and tremors had yet to abate. She woke every night whimpering at the dreams that haunted her, and though she tried to hide it from Killian, he picked up on everything right away.

Though he was into his second trimester and it made it harder for him to hold and comfort her the way he wanted to, he did his best, and she seemed to glean some comfort from the constantly moving baby within him.

Late at night at the end of the 11th day, she’d woken again and Killian had brought her into his side as much as he could; their joined hands lay on top of his round belly.

“I’m scared,” she whispered into his shoulder.

“I know, love; me too,” he admitted.

“I’m so worried—about you, about the kid—about...that I might not be able to be here for this kid, and I’ll leave Henry…” He felt a tear wet the fabric of his (well, Dave’s) shirt, and knew his own would be joining it soon—damn these hormones.

“My darling, if I have anything to say about it, that won’t happen. I won’t stop until we can have the future we’ve fought for and dreamed of.”

“I know, I know; but this complicates things—we have someone else to think about now,” she countered, tracing his stomach.

“It does, yeah; but have hope—we’ll figure this out.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“A wise woman.”

“Yeah, she is.”

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

The sun rose and fell on the 12th day, and it seemed like their babies were now in a sprint to the finish line; both bellies grew a few inches just in one day. When David flopped down on their bed that night, massaging the globe that was his abdomen, his anxieties were racing. For one, they still had Emma’s fate hanging over their head; two, he was exhausted from looking after Neal while this new baby was playing football with his kidneys; and three, they only had a little more than a day left in this ordeal. He and Killian had done their best to get the nursery ready here, and he knew Emma and Snow had set up an extra crib back at the loft. Belle had brought over some of the baby things she hadn’t gotten to use on Gideon for Emma & Killian, and they hadn’t gotten rid of any of Neal’s stuff yet, so everyone would probably be set.

It was just...a lot.

He sighed heavily as Snow came in and settled on the bed next to him. “What was that for? Kick to the bladder?” She started to massage his belly; her touch was heavenly on his strained muscles.

“No. Just...everything. Emma, and Neal, and this one...how are we gonna do this?”

“Together, of course.”

He scoffed a bit. “Yeah, but I’m the only one who’ll be giving birth here and Snow...I’m not sure I can do it.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “If I could do it twice, you can do it once.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not that; I’m...I’m not as strong as you are, Snow. I don’t know how I’ll get through it.”

“Hey.” Her tone was surprisingly stern. “You are a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. And you know I’ll be there right at your side; you’ve got nothing to worry about—I promise.”

“Well, okay. But only because you promised.”

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

Things were tense the next day, knowing that the babies could come at literally any moment. Emma and Snow stayed home and hovered over the guys nervously, jumping at any noise or movement from them. They’d both been experiencing some Braxton-Hicks-like contractions over the last day or so, but no one knew what to expect with this.

Killian still had the advantage by several centimeters in their belly circumference competition; though it had only been days, he already couldn’t remember what his feet looked like and was sure the way his large, round stomach was straining against David’s shirt looked absolutely ridiculous. But he did get an odd comfort from hugging his belly and feeling the way his baby still moved about, even if the way he or she was now resting low on his hips made it difficult to move with any ease or speed.

David was honestly surprised that Killian’s belly was bigger, because with as large as he felt, he was sure he’d win that challenge. And given the way he’d been addicted to anything sugary or salty over the last couple weeks, he knew he’d probably done some damage to his body that had nothing to do with this kid. He had to admit, though, that he hadn’t completely hated this; it wasn’t anything he ever expected, and having two kids so close in age was going to be an adventure in its own right, but feeling and seeing this one grow inside him was, honestly, really cool.

Late in the afternoon—approaching the 39-week mark—both men kept shifting in their seats uncomfortably.

“Killian, do you think it’s time?” Emma asked, bringing him a tall glass of ice water; he was sweating a bit, but no more than he had been the last couple days.

“I’m really not sure,” he answered, taking a long sip. “I guess we wait and see?”

David, who had been wincing on and off all day, suddenly groaned and doubled over. “Well, I’m not. I think...I think my water just broke.”

“Oh, shit,” Emma cursed, and Snow ran in from the kitchen to inspect. One look at his (size XXXL) sweatpants told her all she needed to know.

“Yup. You’re in labor.”

A minute later, Killian did the same thing, crying out in pain.

“Shit, you too?” Emma asked?

“Seems so, love,” Killian said through a wince.

Of course, there was a knock at the door just then. Emma fussed over the guys while Snow ran to get it.

She threw open the door in her panic. “Granny, hi; now isn’t a good time,” she greeted the old wolf. “They both just went into labor.”

“Oh?” Granny seemed surprised, but oddly not stressed—or even remotely like herself. “Well, isn’t that perfect.”

“What?” Snow was suddenly very confused, especially as Granny barged past her to the living room (that couch was definitely going to need to be replaced).

“I don’t think they need bearclaws right now, Granny; you know anything about being a midwife?” Emma asked as she placed a cool cloth on each of their foreheads.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” But it wasn’t Granny’s voice. Four pairs of eyes pointed at Granny, who was covered in black smoky magic and revealed her true self: the Black Fairy.

Emma and Snow stared in shock, while the guys were attempting to stand and fight.

“Oh, sit down, boys—you don’t want to harm the babies now, do you?” The fairy pushed them back down on the sofa with her magic. “I’m afraid they won’t do me any good if anything bad happens,” she continued. “I need two products of true love for my plan to work; no less.” Then she glanced at the girls. “However, I can’t risk you two meddling, so…” With a wave of her hand, she whisked herself and the men away.

“Oh, I’m gonna kill her,” Emma yelled, already making for the door. They needed help and backup, as fast as they could.

“Just let me get a shot in, too,” Snow followed.

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

When the smoke cleared, the three of them were in a cave—in the mines, if David had to guess. Weak torchlight shined above; he could see Killian next to him clearly, but that was it.

“Well, I better leave you two to it, then,” the Black Fairy said. “Not that I think you’re going to be able to escape, but just in case…” She waved her hand again, and shackles appeared on their ankles, connected to the wall. “Happy laboring! I’ll be back to collect those babies in a few hours. Scream if you need help! Tata!” And then she was gone.

“Bloody...buggering...hell,” Killian panted, tugging on the chain to no avail. “Got any ideas, mate?”

“No,” David breathed, which he was doing heavily as he gripped his large bump. “I think...this one’s coming fast.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but—” He gritted his teeth in pain. “Damn, does it hurt.”

“I’ve got you, Dave,” Killian told him, holding out his hand. David took it, and together they labored, squeezing and embracing each other through their arduous—but fast—contractions.

It became obvious that David’s labor was progressing quicker than Killian’s, though. “I think I need to push,” Dave said in a tired, strained voice.

“Okay; we can do this,” Killian said, though he supposed he was comforting himself as much as David.

As carefully as possibly, they got David’s pants off and sure enough, the baby was crowning. “I can see the head; push!”

David was yelling and the torches were flickering, but after a few quick pushes, the baby was in Killian’s hand and brace; the hook had been left at home.

“It’s a girl,” Killian said, smiling, as he put her in David’s arms.

He watched with happy tears in his eyes as David reclined on the stone wall and fawned over the tiny new life in his arms, who was crying something fierce. But he could feel his own time drawing near, the contractions becoming nearly constant and pressure increasing on his pelvis.

David was wrapping his new daughter up in his discarded pants when he noticed Killian’s distress. “Your turn?”

Killian nodded. “My turn.”

As quick as they could manage, they reversed their positions, David carefully setting his baby on a flat part of the rocky floor, and guided Killian through it like he had just done for him.

But this one wasn’t coming out as easy. “Gentle pushes, man; you can do this.”

“No, I can’t,” he cried. What if he died here? Or the baby?

“Yes, you can; I won’t let you not.”

With one last, fierce cry, Killian pushed harder than he thought possible—and heard the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“It’s also a girl,” David told him as he put the squealing infant in his arms. She was so perfect and so precious. David handed him his pants, too, and he swaddled the babe as best he could.

For a long while, they sat huddled together, shaking a bit from the cold air—they’d put their pants back on and wrapped the babies in their shirts—but mainly staring at their little ones. Eventually, though, David wondered, “Now what?”

“Well, if the Black Fairy hasn’t come to claim them, I suppose that’s good.”

“And what do we do if she does?”

“Fight like hell.”

“Well, duh. But with what?”

They were discussing battle tactics and keeping an ear open for anything while the babies slept. For a long time, nothing happened, but then, they finally heard it—footsteps.

Gingerly, they both rose to their feet, clutching the babies close. As the sound grew, they could tell it was more than one person. “Bloody hell,” Killian muttered; there was no way they’d be able to defend themselves against this many.

But then the steps came into their cavern, and they relaxed immediately: Snow and Emma ran in, quickly followed by Regina, Belle, and Granny, armed with her crossbow.

“Don’t worry; it’s really me,” she said gruffly, then turned and guarded the entrance. “I owe her a crossbolt to the skull for tying me up like that.”

Snow and Emma rushed to their respective True Love’s sides. “Oh my god, there they are,” Emma gushed.

“You guys did it; I told you,” Snow said through her tears.

“How did you get in?” David asked. “How long have we been here?”

“Only a few hours,” Belle said. “When I heard what happened, I had to come along. I...I made a deal with her; she’ll let you go free.”

“But what about Gideon?” Killian asked; he hated to think what his friend might have given up.

“Don’t worry about it; Rumple and I will deal with that. I wasn’t going to let her take you babies.”

Killian took a step to go give her a hug, but nearly stumbled when he did. “We owe you, love.”

“Just take care of them, okay?” She closed the distance between them to give him an embrace, and then Emma did the same.

“Okay, now that this reunion is done, can we get out of here? I see four people who probably need some serious medical attention,” Regina called out.

“Lead the way, Regina,” David replied, and she poofed them all to the hospital with a single wave of her hand.

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

Hours later, with clean bills of health for the new dads and the babies, both families were squeezed into a booth at Granny’s. Snow and Emma had their respective new daughters in their arms, while their tired, sore boys were basically propped against the window. They were sure their now-soft bellies would never be flat again, and certain that they’d never catch up on sleep, but as they looked on the sweet faces in their loves’ arms, they knew it was all worth it.

The rest of town was gathered in celebration—both for the new little princesses, and that Granny was back; the quality of food had really taken a nosedive.

And, with the proper pomp that such a celebration deserved, the babies were presented to the kingdom properly: Princess Ruth Nolan, and Hope Swan-Jones.

The diner erupted in applause, Henry gushed over his new sister and aunt, and even Regina seemed to shed a happy tear. But the immediate families themselves were just happy to be through their latest adventure.

Despite the tumult of the day, spirits were high.

“I’m usually the one preaching the optimism,” Snow commented as she looked at Emma and Killian, both grinning. “What changed?”

“There’s no way the Black Fairy can beat us now,” Emma replied. “Not when we have Hope.”

thanks for reading! Go give @sherlockianwhovian some birthday love! tagging a few others who might like this:  @sancocnutclub @ashley-knightingale @jennjenn615@wyntereyez @superadam54 @killianjonesownsmyheart1

[kabie-whump]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 9

Prompt: Aftermath of rescue / Sickness / “You’re burning up.” Additional Content: torture mentions

“I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

Whumpee whimpers softly, leaning heavily on Caretaker’s shoulder as the car makes a sharp turn. Caretaker holds them close, gently laying them down so their head rests in their lap. 

Whumpee looks awful. They were only with Whumper for a few days before Caretaker found them, but that was clearly enough time to do a lot of damage. They’re covered in deep purple bruises, their clothes tattered and bloodstained. The signs of torture are clear - straight, intentionally placed cuts on their thighs and cigarette burns on their palms. One of their eyes is swollen shut, and their nose is clearly broken.

Sighing, Caretaker brushes Whumpee’s hair from their forehead. Their skin is unnaturally hot under Caretaker’s touch. “Shit,” they murmur. “You’re burning up.”

“Don’t feel good,” Whumpee groans, their body twisting awkwardly like they’re trying to get up.

Caretaker stops them with a firm hand, laying them back down. “Don’t move, Whumpee. I’ve got you. We’re going to the hospital right now, okay? You’ll feel better soon.”

Whumpee doesn’t seem too convinced. “It hurts. Everything hurts.” Hot tears leak from their eyes, making streaks in the dirt caked on their cheeks. 

“I know. I’m sorry. We’re almost there.”

[i-eat-worlds]

Wow Birthday Whump Day 9: Aftermath of rescue / Sickness / “You’re burning up.”

Set in the aftermath of day 4. Aaroseph goodness

Content: sick whump, medical whump, comfort and caretaking, romancey vibes, medic caretaker

Joseph perked up at the sound of someone knocking at his door, the noise disturbing his hazy sleep. “Come in!” he called, voice hoarse.

The door cracked open, and Aaron stuck his head into the room. He squinted in the dim light. “How’re you holding up?”

Slowly, they approached the bed where he was resting. “I’m alright,” he shrugged, trying to ignore the tickle in the back of his throat. It didn’t work, and an attack of violent coughs erupted from his mouth. When he looked down, the inside of his elbow was covered in mucus.

Aaron reached out to get him a tissue before he could even ask, giving him a look the whole time. “You sure?”

“I’ve had pneumonia before. I’ll survive.” He drew in several careful breaths. “I assume Eric wants you to check, though?”

They nodded. “Yep. It’ll keep it quick.” He shifted off the bed, reaching for the bag he’d quietly set down when he entered. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Sore.” The dislocation really wasn't too bad, though. Nothing had been broken, and it had reduced easily enough. “I’ve been icing it, which helps.”

“Good.” Aaron clipped the oximeter to his finger, and Joseph fell silent.

The sound of velcro peeling away felt outrageously loud against the quietness of the room, and Aaron couldn’t help but feel like he was disturbing the peace as he wrapped the cuff around Joseph’s arm. He slid the bell of his stethoscope underneath the cuff, inflated it, then listened and watched while the needle fell.

“How’s the team?” Joseph said conversationally, watching them jot down the numbers.

“Pretty good. Phoenix is worried about you.” They slid the plastic cover onto the thermometer. “Open.”

Another awkward moment of quiet passed while they waited for the thermometer to beep. “They should come visit.”

“I’ll ask them about it.” Joseph watched as they tossed the cover, then put the thermometer away.

“Yeah.” They rubbed the bell in between their hands. “Can you face me?”

He hummed, sliding his feet over the edge of the bed and pulling his shirt up. Aaron’s fingers brushed against his skin as they pressed the lukewarm metal onto his chest. They worked their way down his front side, face carefully neutral, but Joseph’s face still felt warm. Maybe it was the fever.

“Alright, turn around for me,” they said gently.

“Breathe in,” they instructed, and he complied, exhaling and inhaling when they told him to. The bell was warmer on his back than it had been on front, and after the familiar sensation of it working its way down, it pulled away. For some reason, a train of shivers rolled up his spine. Out of habit more than anything, Aaron wrapped the stethoscope around his neck.

“So, give it to me straight, doc, am I gonna die?” Joseph joked, turning back around.

Aaron shot him a look, unamused. “It’s not as bad as it was. You’re on the upswing.” He smiled, sitting back down on the bed. “Have you been drinking water?”

“Yes, I promise.” He used his good hand to pull his shirt back down.

They narrowed their eyes. “I’ll get you a glass before I leave.”

Joseph watched as he gathered up the rest of his supplies, returning them to their proper homes inside his bag. They paused for a moment, then walked back over, hand reaching for Joseph’s. “I know you’ve heard this a million times-” he started, thumb rubbing circles on the top of his hand. “-but I’m so fucking glad the you’re okay.”

Their eyes locked together for a moment that felt like an eternity, and then Joseph pulled them into a hug. “I’m okay,” he whispered into their ear. “I’m going to be okay.”

They stayed like that for a long time, arms intertwined, chests pressed together, neither properly off nor on the bed. In the quiet of the room, they could hear the other breathing in their ear, slow and relaxed and absolutely blissful.

Maybe, at least for now, everything was okay.

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

[pigeonwhumps]

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Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @fuckcapitalismasshole @ghost-whump @whump-tr0pes @rainbowsandwhumperflies @whumpinggrounds @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump @whumperofworlds

WoW's birthday event: day 9: aftermath of rescue | sickness | "you're burning up"

(does a hostage exchange count as a rescue? I say yes, for the purpose of this)

A day or two after Phoenix waking up in the medbay and the revelations that followed, they ask Joseph to check on Aaron (and by extension, the rest of their team).

Joseph belongs to @i-eat-worlds

1k

CWs: low self-esteem, mentioned past abuse, exhaustion, caffeine, self-neglect

Joseph knocks on the door to Phoenix's flat.

He almost hopes no-one answers and he'll have to use Santhiya's key. Then there's a chance they'll be asleep already.

No such luck.

Kai answers the door. Joseph can tell immediately why Phoenix was worried, even if it was only Aaron they mentioned – he's a mess. Clothes and hair rumpled, swaying slightly, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Joseph? This isn't INSUPA."

"I was visiting Phoenix, and they–"

"Are they okay?" asks Kai immediately, looking ready to run at the slightest hint of a 'no'. "What's wrong, what happened?"

"Nothing's wrong, calm down." Kai's shoulders drop and Joseph bites back a surge of anger. What did Abbie do to make Phoenix think this man could hate them?

"Then what–"

"As I said, I was visiting Phoenix, and they asked me to check up on you. Apparently the bags under Aaron's eyes look tattooed on?"

Actually, what Phoenix had done was apologise for being an inconvenience but could he please check up on Aaron? Joseph had felt sick hearing the fear there, like Joseph would do something to them for asking.

Kai sighs, judging the door further open. "Come in."

Joseph slips inside and follows Kai into the living room.

Morfydd and Lian are slumped on the floor, propped up by the couch, and Aaron is perched on the coffee table, looking two seconds from drifting off and falling, under-eye bags true to Phoenix's word. Morfydd winces at their footsteps. A selection of empty caffeine and sugar drinks and snacks surround them all, spread out around a sugar paper epicentre. Lian appears to have been snacking from a bag of whole coffee beans.

Santhiya's presumably still asleep with Phoenix in the medical bay, Phoenix themself talking to Vic about advocacy roles after she took one up for them during their interview with management (which has caused at least one panic attack so far, and which Joseph is still annoyed about). So at least no-one's unaccounted for.

"You all need to sleep."

Aaron shakes his head, taking a large gulp of coffee (which he doesn't even like. Joseph recognises this version of him from their course together). "There's more important things to do."

"What are you doing?" he asks curiously.

"Trying to work out why Phoenix thinks we'd hate them," mutters Lian morosely. "We don't know what we did, or how to fix it."

"How do they not know we value them for more than their powers and fighting?" adds Morfydd through clenched teeth.

"Because they can count on one hand the amount of people who have before." The room is dead silent. "If you slept, you'd work this out for yourselves. And I'm not taking you to medbay if you have a heart attack from all that caffeine, Lian."

Lian looks at him in surprise. That's fair. The others don't know him as well as Aaron does, don't know that he'd drop everything if that did happen.

"Joseph's lying," announces Aaron.

Joseph shrugs. "Maybe. But it's been over 24 hours since Phoenix woke, I suspect none of you have slept since before then, and I'm not going anywhere until you're asleep. Phoenix asked me to make sure you're okay, and I intend to do so."

"Okay, okay, you've made your point," mutters Lian. "Morfydd, shall we–"

They nod then wince. They seem to have got the idea, as Joseph helps them into their chair. They wheel down the corridor, slowly, Lian holding on, and leave the chair outside whichever one of them's bedroom it is.

Once they're safely inside, Joseph turns to Aaron. "Come on."

He shakes his head. "I need to go on my shift soon. I'll be fine."

Joseph snatches the bag of dissolvable HAL-issued stimulants out of his pocket and transfers them to his own.

"Don't you dare. Phoenix will be better off for you getting some rest, and so will everyone else. I'll take your shift."

"But–"

"No. I'm taking your shift."

"At least let me have a bleep?"

"Not until you've had at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep."

Joseph stares them down until they sigh. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

Aaron nods, and holds out an arm to let Joseph help them down off the table. He pulls it around his shoulders as soon as they've slid off, stopping them from falling completely.

They're warm to hold. His own heart skips a beat. He has no idea which is the spare room, if any, so he just leads them into a random empty one. Aaron doesn't protest.

Once Aaron is sitting on the bed, they seem to come back to themself and say urgently, "They didn't think to come to me when they thought Kai would kick them out. They don't think any better of me. What if they think I've abandoned them because I let you take my shift?"

"It was specifically you Phoenix asked me to check up on. They won't think you abandoned them."

"Me?"

"You're the only one they've been able to see how bad you're getting."

"Oh."

Joseph pulls him into a hug. "Come on. Sleep. Phoenix will still be there when you wake up."

Aaron nods sleepily, and Joseph helps him under the duvet. He extracts his arm regretfully, and closes the door behind him with a little snick.

It turns out he could've stayed longer, because once he returns to the living room he finds Kai already passed out on the sofa.

Joseph smiles and shakes his head as he drapes a blanket over him. He could wake him, tell him about management probably coming round for their side of the story soon, but he doesn't. Kai won't go back to sleep, especially after finding out they visited Phoenix. He scoops up the mess instead, at least wanting to make the place presentable. The sugar paper – plans to make make Phoenix realise they're valued, apparently – he stacks and covers up, not wanting anyone outside of the team to see, and the caffeine remains he dumps in the kitchen, grinning at Phoenix's moulded Grogu mug on the counter.

And now it's time to return to HAL's medbay. No-one's waking anytime soon. He hopes Phoenix realises their team loves them soon, because it's so painfully obvious to everyone else that they do.

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

Charlie has Crap Friends

Previous | Part 6

@whumperofworlds WOW Day 9 | aftermath of resue

CW: main character death (goodbye crap friends), whumpee turned whumper, rescue

Levitt hears the commotion before he sees anything - a sharp wind, Herman shouting, Montpelier and Stewart yelling uncomprehensively.  Levitt stays curled in a tight ball, eyes squeezed tight, until the others fall silent.

Then, it is too quiet.  Levitt slowly opens his eyes and blinks the yard back into focus.

A few paces away, Montpelier lies in a growing pool of red.  A gaping hole oozes at his neck.  The hose still runs in his hand, thinning the blood as it rushes away.

Stewart lays just outside the hose’s reach.  Levitt can’t see any injury, but Stewart’s glassy gaze is enough for Levitt to know.  Stewart will never bother him again.

Farthest away, halfway back to the cabin, Herman reaches out to Levitt and croaks a plea.  Maxwell crouches over his body.

Levitt closes his eyes again as Maxwell finishes.  He thinks he should be scared, but behind the dark, the others feel too far away to matter.  He’ll be safe if he stays like this.

...

It rains.  Soft drops whisper through the leaves, filling the air with the earthy scent of growth and decay. 

Charlie sticks his hand out of the lean-to and lets the water roll over his palm.

Maxwell is off somewhere.  Hunting, he said.  Charlie fears at first that he’ll be left alone again.  But Maxwell comes back, feeds him broth from somewhere he won’t disclose, and refuses to take his blood.

“You are unwell,” Maxwell says when Charlie asks why.

“I feel better when you drink,” Charlile protests.

“You have to get stronger.”

Charlie does get stronger, a little each day, until he no longer needs caring for.

“We should get you home,” Maxwell says.

“We should,” Charlie agrees reluctantly.  He pictures his apartment and tries to hide his disappointment.

Maxwell knows too well what Charlie thinks.  “You’ve only just recovered.  I do not wish to make you sick again.”

“I wouldn’t be sick.  I am well cared for now.”  Charlie meets Maxwell’s eye with silent pleading.

“I am not a new born anymore,” Maxwell says gently.  “It would not be the same as before.”

...

Charlie stands in the open door of his apartment.  Inside is dark, but he knows what it looks like - disheveled, safe, lonely.

He turns back to the hall where Maxwell leans against the stair rail.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Maxwell tilts his head.  “What for?”

I’m sorry for the circumstances.  Sorry you died.  Sorry we didn’t meet in your first life.

“I don’t want you to go,” Charlie says quietly.

“We will meet again, I think.”  Maxwell takes Charlie’s wrist to his mouth and makes the smallest of punctures.

Charlie shudders.

It only lasts seconds.  Maxwell meets Charlie’s eye and gives a small smile.  “Thank you.”

He is gone in a blink.

Charlie lets his arm fall to his side.  He stares after Maxwell for a minute, still caught in a daze, then shakes his head and shuts the door.

[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! 2024

Try to Forget Him - (Pre-Capture) - Part 1 and Part 2 - A night out at the club dredges up old feelings, leading a mysterious stranger to offer Tristan some advice - Day 7 and 12 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

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! 2024

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! 2024

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! 2024

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 2024

Below the Belt - Darius tries not to scream as he faces the painful, stinging consequences of his actions - Day 9 of Whumpmas in July 2024

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! 2024

A Shocking Offence – Tristan must find help if he hopes to save both Darius and himself. – Day 4 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Feeling Bushed – With their captor so close, Tristan must be very careful to avoid being spotted. – Day 5 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

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! 2024

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! 2024

White Out - Darius slowly loses himself mentally, physically, and emotionally. - Day 6 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

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! 2024

Burning For You - Darius has Tristan's back, but who's got his? - Day 13 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Dinner and Unmoving - Tristan is plagued by a food coma while their captor follows his own agenda. - Day 27 of Whumpmas in July 2024

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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! 2024

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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:

Darius tied to a chair

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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!

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Reese vs Natali: Duel to the Death (Magican's Bait, Part 5)

WoW Birthday Whump Day 12: Magic Exhaustion / Collapsed / "So tired..."

Whumpril Day 4 (Swaying) Day 9 (Self-doubt), Day 26 (“How could you?”)

WoW Birthday Event Prompts List

Whumpril Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

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

TW: duel, knife wounds, magic whump, death, blood, blood loss, dizziness, collapse, fainting

Context: Reese duels Natali. The Stalker may have runes on her side, but Reese has a hidden ace up her sleeve that might win her the day. But at what cost?

Reese didn’t give Natali time to react to the—admittedly very shocking—news that she was not, in fact, Caiya Ebony. She closed the distance between them in three leaping strides and went on the offensive, going for the Stalker’s throat.

Natali ducked backward, her self-satisfied expression wiped from her face. She fumbled with her knives and barely managed to draw one before Reese drove her own blade into Natali’s shoulder.

She screamed in pain and fury, weapon falling from numb fingers as the injured arm went limp. Her other hand went for the second knife, and she swung out, trying to catch Reese in the side.

Reese yanked out her knife and twisted away. Natali’s blade sliced through the fabric of her jacket and left a shallow scratch, but it was better than the alternative. Reese hissed out through her teeth and retreated, allowing the Stalker to make the next move.

Blood streamed down Natali’s arm, and her eyes burned with rage. “You’ll regret that, child,” she hissed. Before Reese could react, the Stalker spoke a rune.

The wind stirred around Reese, lightly toying with her hair, but nothing else happened. Reese grinned at Natali’s shocked expression. “Was that supposed to impress me? You’re gonna have to try harder than that!”

“How?!” The Stalker screeched, repeating the rune as Reese charged at her again. She retreated, going on the defensive as Reese chased her around the room.

Reese didn’t have the energy to spare for an answer. She lunged, knife point intent on Natali’s heart, but Natali knocked aside the blade. Natali tried to counterattack, but Reese blocked the thrust and used her free hand to grab Natali’s wrist.

The Stalker’s eyes were filled with pain, fear, and desperation. She spoke another rune, one Reese recognized all too well. The familiar weight settled on Reese’s chest, and she faltered, struggling to breathe. Natali seized the opportunity and kicked Reese in the stomach with rune-enhanced strength.

The force of the kick threw Reese halfway across the room. Time seemed to briefly slow as the ground came up to meet her. The impact sent fireworks through Reese’s shoulder and back, and she rolled another few meters before stopping. Her knife clattered to the ground, out of reach.

Natali staggered across the room, swaying from blood loss or rune exhaustion. Possibly both. Reese pulled herself to her feet and raised her fists. The closeness of the pit where she’d accidentally tossed Caiya’s cowl unnerved her, and the hairs on her neck prickled.

Natali still had her dagger, but she was wounded. Even hand-to-hand, Reese had the upper hand. Didn’t she?

“I don’t know the extent of your protection, little magician,” Natali hissed, knife raised. She was only a few steps away now. “You may have put up a good fight. But you’re finished, now. Yield, and I’ll let the prince go.”

“Liar,” Reese spat, “and you’re right. You don’t know the extent of my protection. But you’re also wrong. I’m no magician.”

With those words, Reese lunged, ducking under Natali’s swing and diving for her legs, tackling the Stalker to the ground. Pain erupted in her lower back, causing her to cry out, but Reese pressed on, punching Natali in the throat.

Natali gagged and let go of the knife. Reese didn’t hesitate, yanking the weapon out of her back and driving it in between the Stalker’s ribs into her heart. Natali’s eyes widened in shock, and she sagged. Reese didn’t release her hold on the knife until her breathing slowed… slowed… stopped.

Reese exhaled shakily and rose to her feet, retrieving her own knife from the ground. She left Natali’s knife where it was. Head swimming, she staggered across the room to the prince, who stared mutely at the Stalker’s corpse. Reese sliced through his bonds, a simple matter with the rune-engraved knife, and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled on legs weakened during his imprisonment, and they supported each other as they crossed the room to the tunnel where she’d entered.

“How…” Damian whispered when they entered the tunnel, “how could you? How could you resist her runes?”

“It’s simple, really,” Reese muttered, trying to ignore how the floor pitched and heaved beneath their unsteady feet. “I’m a Draigo.”

Damian froze midstep, and Reese nearly tripped over his feet. “A Draigo?! But I thought they were all—”

“Not all of them, your Highness. Just most of them.” She tugged his arm, and he started walking—or, more accurately, lurching—down the tunnel again.

“...so that’s why you’re here,” he mused, “instead of Caiya Ebony.”

“Caiya Ebony is a coward. I’m here because a friend asked me to.” Each step was like another knife in the wound in her back. Was she supporting Damian, or was Damian supporting her? They needed to get out of here.

“Ah.” Silence stretched between them for several steps before the prince spoke again. “Was it the Watcher?”

Reese nodded wordlessly. Was the tunnel getting darker?

“You said your name was Reese Takari, right? Like the diplomat?”

“I’m…” Reese mumbled, “I’m his daughter…. We should be… getting… close….”

Damian paused, concern evident. “Are you alright? Reese?”

The tunnel seemed to blur, and a strange numbness settled over her, like when her limbs fell asleep after sitting on them for too long. She didn’t have time to respond before her legs buckled under her weight.

But she didn’t hit the floor. “Reese? Reese!”

Damian’s voice sounded far away like he was at the other end of the tunnel. Reese wanted to respond, but darkness flooded over her, sending her into the depths of oblivion.

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @whumpril

(if you want to be tagged in my writing please lmk!)

[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!