#wow birthday whump day 11

[kabie-whump]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 11

Prompt: Used as bait / Held for ransom / “It’s a trap!” Additional Content: kidnapping, bound and gagged, drugged whumpee, guns

Whumpee can’t see anything through the blindfold, but they’d know the sound of Caretaker’s voice anywhere.

“Let them go.”

Whumpee tries to shake their head, but they feel so tired, so disconnected from their body. They’re not even sure if the movement happens at all.

“Do you have the money?” Whumper’s voice comes from right next to Whumpee, making them flinch a little.

A thumping sound. “It’s all there.”

Footsteps. The sound of little metal latches opening one-by-one. “Very good.”

“Now let them go.”

Ooh, Caretaker sounds angry. Angry enough to make stupid mistakes like they always do when Whumpee isn’t there to discourage them.

“In a moment, dear. Let me count it first.”

Alarm bells ring in Whumpee’s head as they listen to the crisp flipping of bills in Whumper’s hands.. They try to remember something Whumper had been saying to their henchmen earlier. Something about being ready to grab Caretaker… Shit.

“Caretaker!” Whumpee tries to talk through the gag in their mouth but it comes out muffled. “It’s a trap!”

An unseen hand strikes Whumpee across thier face. A henchman, perhaps? It makes Whumpee feel like their body is spinning on a spit, trapped forever in the momentum of the slap even though they know they’re stationary. Whatever drugs Whumper had given them must be really strong. Whumpee’s never felt this messed up before.

“Don’t hurt them!”

A click right next to Whumpee’s ear, then a sharp gasp from Caretaker.

A whispered voice. “One more word and I blow your little friend’s brains out.”

Silence from Caretaker.

“Good. Now, my friend here’s going to search you and then tie you up. Don’t move a muscle.”

[pigeonwhumps]

Capture

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

WoW birthday event: used as bait | held for ransom | "it's a trap!"

Erik invites Cedric and his slave around for the evening.

1.9k

CWs: slavery, beating, whipping, non-consensual nudity (non-sexual), captivity, whumper pov, use of the word 'bitch', punching, bruises, drinking, drugging

Cedric yanks open the door to the boiler cupboard and claps his hands together twice, sharply. The eyes of the choppy-haired girl curled up on the hard floorboards snap open and she scrambles out, not quite fast enough to avoid the encouraging kick to her lower back.

"Look sharp, Savannah. Erik's invited us round this afternoon and I need you to look better than that."

He looks Savannah up and down. She's only ever allowed to wear black tank tops, shorts and either a bra or binder when they're at home, and her hair is still mangled from when she was a little bitch and hacked it off (she doesn't dare do that anymore). Her appearance isn't entirely her fault, but he does love how much she shrinks when he comments on it.

"Yes, sir."

"Follow me then. Quickly now."

Savannah bows low and follows hot on his heels. He doesn't look back - she doesn't need it anymore. He unlocks the door to her small bathroom, containing a toilet, sink, cold shower, and very little else. The only lock is a deadbolt on the outside. The plumber had looked at him oddly when he'd had it installed.

"Shower. Dress. Kitchen in five minutes."

She shuts the door, and he strolls to the kitchen, sinking down onto the worn chair. It's early afternoon already. He'll have Savannah make him a sandwich, then they can set off.

Five minutes later almost exactly, Savannah enters the room. Her hair is shinier now, and she's in a cute little blouse, cardigan and skirt.

"That's better. Ham sandwich and then you can take the beers to the car. I hope for your sake it's tidier this time."

"Yes sir."

Savannah fixes a quick sandwich, before bracing herself and hefting the large case of beers into her arms, staggering slightly at its weight. Cedric smirks, watching her legs. She has wood nymph blood in her, as much as anyone does these days. He's glad he bought this particular broken girl from Erik to be trained as his slave, even if she's had a few relapses.

She's waiting by the jeep when he gets there, perfectly poised with her hands behind her back and eyes on the ground. Cedric looks inside the jeep. Then he turns back to stare at her.

"Really, Savannah? Does this look clean to you?"

She hesitates. "Yes, sir?"

He cuffs her hard around the head. "Try again."

"No, sir."

"Better. You can clean it and receive a suitable punishment later. For now, get in the back. You won't get any dirtier there than in the rest of this vehicle."

Savannah obeys, climbing inside with the case of beer, hugging her legs.

It's a bumpy journey, and Cedric relishes every one, knowing Savannah is suffering for her sloppiness. Stupid girl.

Savannah staggers a little upon exiting, legs probably stiff, but lifts the beers without complaint. Cedric smiles. Her eyes don't even flicker towards the trees anymore. Erik broke her well.

Cedric rolls his eyes at Erik's ring doorbell as he presses it. He has cameras everywhere, it's so excessive.

Kieran, Erik's slave, opens the door, scrambling backwards to usher them in but not in time to avoid Cedric's punch to the chest. He strides past him as the boy doubles over.

Savannah's footsteps don't falter behind him. Good.

"Show us the way, then, Kieran. Unless you want your owner to think we had to do it ourselves?"

Kieran scrambles in front of Cedric and Savannah, still winded. Cedric smiles. He still resents the fact that Savannah is more afraid of Erik than him, her owner, but he can't take it out on Erik. The boy however...

Erik smiles as they all enter.

"Cedric! It's been too long. I'm glad to see you still have the slave I sold you, it would be a shame never to see her again. She was prettier with long hair, but each to their own. Leave us a few beers and put the rest in the fridge. And fetch the snacks, both of you."

"Yes sir."

The boy just nods. He hasn't changed much since they last met up, wearing a t-shirt and trousers with long, dark, twisty hair, with a few extra bruises. Erik has never avoided the face.

Cedric plops himself down on the leather couch and accepts a beer, taking a long swig. "Cheers."

Erik smirks. "Savannah giving you a hard time?"

"Nah. Hard week at work. I'll get her to give me a massage or something. How's your boy? Misbehaving?"

Erik shrugs. "Entertainment. And he needs reminders sometimes. All slaves do."

"Still don't regret keeping him?"

"Never will. Even the special projects I rarely keep, but I trained him perfectly for my needs and he's excellent. I'll need a new special project soon though. The space is looking rather sad without one."

The slaves come back in, carrying a plate of tortilla chips and another of dips. Cedric tries some and grins. The fear in both slaves' eyes is the perfect complement.

"Yeah, okay, I see what you like about him." He takes another swig of beer. "What shall we play?"

_

Erik throws his controller across the room. The slaves both duck, Kieran not quite managing in time as it grazes the top of his head. Savannah steadies him.

Cedric is well past tipsy and heading towards totally sloshed. He must've drunk more than he thought.

He snaps his fingers sloppily. "Girl, beer."

"Yes, sir." She obeys, pressing one into his hand. He drinks as much as he can in one gulp and then dumps the rest of the can over her. "Oops. Must be time for strip poker."

Erik smiles. "Kieran, fetch the cards and deal."

Kieran does so. They have... roughly the same amount of clothes, it's fine.

Erik loses the first hand.

"Clothes off, Kieran. M'choice. Top."

The boy pulls his t-shirt off. He turns his back, as is traditional, and Cedric whistles, sobering up slightly. The criss-cross of scars, the colours and textures and areas where they meet and overlap... it's beautiful. Amazing work.

"How did you create that?"

"Trade secret. Maybe I'll show you one day."

Oh, he'd love that.

The game passes in a bit of a blur after that. He knows his slave ends up completely naked, serving drinks and snacks with the same poise she had before, and then the boy removes the last of his underwear because it's only fair. He knows that he confesses to Savannah's occasional bitchy fits and, with encouragement, beats her clumsily with Kieran's belt.

"Hey, Cedric, what do you say I show you my special project workshop? You keep asking."

"Surreee."

"Kieran, help me get him upright. I don't think he can stand properly." Erik mutters something Cedric can't make out. Kieran obeys, and the floor seems to sway and swirl under Cedric's feet but somehow the slaves are staying upright.

He envies that.

It's only Erik with him now, who pulls an arm around his shoulders to help move him along. It's… it should be cold outside. Should it? He isn't.

There's a shed that feels so far away. He blinks, watching it blur. No, there's two sheds. Odd. Do sheds usually duplicate?

Then he's inside the shed. It's darker in there, things he can't make out. It feels unnatural. A shiver runs down his spine.

He wants to leave, suddenly, he'd much rather see it in daylight. His knees buckle before he can do anything about it.

“Finally,” mutters Erik from somewhere far away. “I thought you were never going to succumb.”

Cedric's vision finally goes, and with that the rest of the world.

_

Cedric wakes.

His head throbs like he's been on the biggest bender of his life. His knees hurt too, and his arms are numb. Must've been a hell of a night.

Doesn't feel like he's anywhere comfortable though. Where is he?

“Oh, finally! You're awake!”

The voice is too loud, but he recognises it and forces his eyes open, trying to figure out where it's from. Maybe he had someone over last night.

But then… he visited Erik, didn't he?

There's a dark silhouette moving around the dimly-lit room, and then his head pounds, eyes burning as a bare bulb flicks on directly above him.

The floor is bare earth, a pile of cages and tools in one corner. Cedric's on his knees, arms suspended above his head, naked except for what looks like a hospital wristband but black and sturdier.

Erik's in front of him, wearing a grin unsettlingly past ecstatic.

“What the hell?”

“You wanted to see my special project shed. This is it.”

Cedric growls. “I'm not your fucking ‘special project’. Let me down.”

Erik clucks his tongue. “You know better than to make demands. I'll let you down when I'm good and ready.”

Cedric snarls. Why's he even here? He's not a slave, he's not one of those pathetic losers fool enough to be captured by Erik. He's not weak or cowardly, like they are, he wouldn't let himself be broken and kept.

Wouldn't let himself get taken.

Hang on a fucking second.

“Did you drug me?”

“Took you long enough to cotton on. I always thought you were at least a little smarter than that.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now, now. That's not how we do things around here. And I don't give adjustments periods. Let me show you my baby.” Cedric narrows his eyes as Erik crosses behind him and comes back carrying a long, braided rope, split into nine in the middle. And each of the nine strands is in itself braided with–

“Fucking shards of glass?”

“I said I'd show you how I made Kieran’s scars. Quite something, isn't she? She's mostly reserved for my special projects, unless a regular victim gets too cocky. Lucky you, getting to experience her first-hand.”

Cedric responds by grasping the ropes tight and struggling to his feet. There isn't much to hold onto but he manages to get his legs under him, standing shakily. He needs to get out of here. And then he can get his bitch back and rain down hell on Erik and the boy for all of this. Admittedly he's not sure what the boy has to do with it apart from having the misfortune of being here at the time, but Cedric is still going to give him hell for it.

And then his legs are kicked back out from under him and he collapses back to the ground.

“You're going to be fun.”

Fun, thinks Cedric. Yeah. But why does Erik want him? Everyone's fun to break. Savannah has forest nymph blood, Kieran's part ceasg, but Cedric's completely human. Nobody buys full-blooded humans from Erik, that's not his business model.

Erik pulls him back to his feet and pushes him against a stout wooden pole that Cedric had been wondering about, tying his arms around it tightly. He growls, struggling.

“Temper, temper. We'll break that from you. Gotta say, I haven't been this excited about a special project in a long time.” He flexes the whip a little. “What do you say we get started? We need to figure out your baseline tolerances, so this whipping is going to be a little different. I'll keep going until you can't take any more. And I'd usually bring in someone newly-broken for this part, as a test, but I thought you'd like to see a familiar face. Meet Megan.”

Cedric hadn't heard anyone behind him – curse the customarily-silent wood nymph footsteps – but then Savannah comes into view. She's clean again, any injuries hidden, in a fitted t-shirt and long shorts.

“You look disgusting,” he snarls. She shrinks backwards, arms not quite coming up to hug herself but not quite not, either.

“Megan, get a grip. Take a seat. It's this man's whipping, not your own.”

“You can't just go changing my slave's name!” he cries, outraged. “And my name is Cedric.”

“She isn't yours anymore. Nor is that your name. Your *number* is now 197, until I sell you and then it's their decision. Now, let's start with your baseline whipping tolerance. Megan, do not lose count.”

Despite the humiliation, Cedric smirks at her. He's going to take that as a challenge.

From her seat on the dirt floor, Megan flinches but looks up at him determinedly, fear-filled eyes focused just off to his right. That's where Erik must be standing, then.

The whip hisses through the air and Cedric has a split-second warning before all nine ends land on his back.

All the breath is forced out of him and he arches his back. The glass tears into him, shredding the skin and flesh even beyond what the rope alone can do.

“One.”

“Louder, sweetheart, I need to know. It's not your whipping.”

The next hit is harder, rope abrasive, skinning, glass digging into flesh where the skin’s already gone. It rips a scream from his throat, one that should surely bring people running.

“T-two.”

“Better.”

Cedric gives up listening after that. If his bitch of a slave is allowed to sit and watch while he's whipped, Erik isn't likely to say anything sensible. He'll have to be alone before he can do anything.

But he's out cold well before that.

[writingphoenix]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 11

So, a month later and I'm finally getting back to this. I've been reading a lot, mostly All for the Game fanfics, and haven't really been in a writing mood but the bug bit again so I'm back! I should have the next part up tomorrow but after that no promises.

The WoW Birthday Whump event took place in April but I'm not leaving my story unfinished. Here's the masterlist and here's the previous part!

Used as bait / "It's a trap!"

Alex came for him soon after the men who had recaptured him left. Nathan hadn’t moved from where they had dumped him on the ground. He was too sick, exhausted, and defeated to bother. 

“Up,” Alex ordered with a kick to Nathan’s side. He stifled a groan as he forced himself to stand. He was noticeably unsteady and he nearly fell over. Alex undid the chain and half-dragged him back up the stairs and outside.

The sun was fully up now and both four wheelers were gone. The morning air was cold and a breeze had picked up. It made Nathan shiver uncontrollably. Alex led him to the center of the yard and Nathan realized that there was a post driven deep into the ground. Alex gave it a few wiggles and tugs to make sure it was secure, then attached Nathan’s chain to the post.

“Better hope that kid tries to take you away from me again if you want to go back inside,” Alex said. “You get to sit here until Josh comes to get you. Then the two of you can share your room.” He smiled, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a blindfold. Alex tied it around Nathan’s eyes and walked away, to where Nathan didn’t know.

He curled in on himself as best as he could against the cold. Part of him wanted Josh to come so that he could go back inside but part of him hoped he got away. He was so cold, so hungry, so tired. His body ached from the four wheeler ride and his fever. The darkness at least was nice but he couldn’t fall asleep again.

Hours passed as he shivered against the cold. The sun was a blessing to him as it rose and the wind lessened a bit. 

Footsteps crunched and he tensed up, ready for pain. Instead, he felt a gentle hand and Josh whispering in his ear.

“Nathan, are you ok? I’m going to try to get you out of here again.”

“No, no,” he said. His voice was hoarse and his throat felt like it was tearing with every word. “It’s a trap! You have to get out of here, Josh. Run!”

Josh removed the blindfold from Nathan’s head and Nathan blinked at the sudden light in his face. As he finally got his vision back, he realized with horror that Alex was coming up behind Josh and he had a gun. Josh saw his face and spun around to look. Alex aimed the gun right at Nathan.

“Stand up and step away, Josh, or I’ll shoot the kid.” 

Nathan closed his eyes as Josh complied. He was sure that Alex was going to shoot him regardless. He braced for the shot, for the inevitable pain. There was nothing but the sound of footsteps crunching leaves. Nathan realized that Josh was leaving with Alex and, although he was worried about what would happen to Josh, he let himself relax.

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

A Different Kind of Ransom

The only consistent thing about Alex's story is that she is, at some point, kidnapped. There is no main story. Only branching AUs that pop up like timelines in the multiverse.

For @whumperofworlds WOW Day 11 | Held for Ransom

CW: implied kidnapping, held for ransom, threat of violence

---

To: Esteemed Thomas Mallory

I am writing to you in regards to your campaign, namely, to suggest you don’t make promises you can’t keep.

It is clear making promises is an essential part of the job, and I don’t fault you for playing the game.  Thus, I require only one promise kept to the fullest extent:  Protect our children.

You have a lot to make up for.  I hope this letter prompts you to make change for the better, if not for the four children already missing, then for your daughter.

As an incentive, I have taken your daughter.  Not hers, but yours.  For now, she is safe here, but I urge you to work diligently.  She will be returned when I have proof of the other children’s safe return.

If you care as much as you say you do, this will be a simple task.

- X

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Confrontation (Magician's Bait, Part 4)

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

WoW Birthday Whump Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

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

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

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

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

-----

The whispering was beginning to grow unbearable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His relief was short-lived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he had thought, anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You challenged me. Swear it first.”

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

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

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds

[whumperofworlds]

WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

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

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

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

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

PROMPTS, ALT PROMPTS, AND RULES UNDER THE CUT!

PROMPTS

Day 1

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

Day 2

Starvation / Thirst / "Please..."

Day 3

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

Day 4

Electrocution / Waterboarded / "Anything but that!"

Day 5

Scream / Captivity / "NO!"

Day 6

Nonhuman whumpee / Reluctant Whumper / "Run!"

Day 7

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

Day 8

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

Day 9

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

Day 10

Hypothermia / Heat flashes / "Bind them."

Day 11

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

Day 12

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

Day 13

Natural disaster / Shock collar / "Shut up!"

Day 14

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

Day 15

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

ALTERNATE PROMPTS

Abandoned whumpee

Bridal carry

Claustrophobia

Forced to hurt another

Poison

Amnesia

Mouth stitched shut

Humiliation

RULES

1. Anyone can join, not just whump blogs!

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

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

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

5. HAVE FUN!

[3-2-whump]

WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 11:

Used as Bait

Happy (actual?) Birthday!

Varadha Rajamanaar and Devaratha Shouryanga Raisaar belong to the Salaar (2023) fandom, and there is no hetero explanation to those two’s dynamics

Don’t worry! Varadha’s faith is not misplaced, see under the cut!

And the whole thing

[i-eat-worlds]

Wow Birthday Whump Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

Day 5: Alt. Bridal Carry / NO!"

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

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

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

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

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

Day 11: Alt. Forced to Hurt A Loved One

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

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

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

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

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

“We Are TroubleD” Masterpost

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

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Story Overview:

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

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Rating:

18+ - contains mature themes

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

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Content warnings:

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

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

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

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

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Character Profiles:

Coming Soon!

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Canon story:

Coming soon!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Alternate Universes (AUs):

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

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Fun and games:

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

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Art:

Coming soon!

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FAQ:

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

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

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

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

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

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

[whumperofworlds]

WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 11

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

Good luck!!!

Also... you know what day it is...

MY BIRTHDAY!!! So I'll be out for a bit during the day! I look forward to everyone's stuff for today!!!

[3-2-whump]

3-2-Masterlist

Created: 2/3/24

Updated: 11/24/24

Whump Quotes

Quote 1 Art

Quote 2

Quote 3

Quote 4

Quote 5

Whump One Shots (Generic Names)

Tear-Filled Noncon (Mutual!)

Valentine's Day Shopping

Tear-Filled Noncon (Mutual!) Art

The Informant

The Informant, Second Half

Rescue: The Informant, Part Three

Post-Recovery Arc Fluff

Language Barrier Idea

Hidden Injuries/Keeping Secrets/‘Drop the Act’

Eternal Masterlist -Story Complete

Other Projects/Ideas to be Developed

New(Old?) Whump Story Idea

Rinnico Kaa Design

Mermay and MerWhump

Events

WoW Birthday Whump Event:

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

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

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

Miscellania

Whump Intro

Whump Author Portrait

Whumpy Bingo Sheet

About the Author, or Adoption Trauma and Whump

[i-eat-worlds]

Wow Birthday Whump Day 11: Alt. Forced to Hurt a Loved One

this one is kind of a stretch but I couldn’t get my brain to work for the most of the alts or the originals so I hope you enjoy more medwhump.

Content: temporary character death, resuscitation, angst, medical whump, caffeine od ment.

Sil paused on stairs, taking a moment to catch his breath. His head was still throbbing from where he’d hit the ground after Electraz had hit him with an electrical blast.

It’d been stupid, really, leaving cover like he had to get to the car a couple seconds sooner. It was an unnecessary risk, and he’d paid for it.

At least the drive back had been short, just a couple miles to the hotel. Of course, when they’d arrived, the elevator had been out of service, and so he’d had to take the stairs. Not that he minded the stairs, but the blast must’ve taken a lot out of him. It was only another flight. He could make it.

Pressing a hand against his chest, he continued up the stairs. It felt like that one time he’d downed twelve espressos consecutively on a dare, all weird and fluttery. Afterwards, his hands had been shaking so much that he hadn’t been able to hold a pencil still. Between the dressing down he’d gotten from the medical officer and the time he’d spent camped out on the toilet, he’d learned his lesson.

Below him, he heard the sound of the door closing as Joseph entered the stairwell. He groaned internally at that, trying to pick up the pace. The lecture was coming, he was well aware of that, but it’d be great if he’d gotten to lay down first and rest a little bit before then.

He fumbled with the door key, clumsily sliding the card into the door several times until it finally beeped. His room was pretty cramped, but he found himself not minding, since it made the bed that much closer. The pain in his chest was building, and Sil found himself easily falling into the mattress.

His clothes were definitely still dirty, and between the mission and the walk of stairs, he was soaked in sweat, but it didn't matter. There was a feeling of doom building his chest, disturbing enough that he considered yelling out for Joseph. As much as he hated his protective, mother bear attitude and cross looks, he would come, and he would help. He needed help, he should…

Darkness came before he could get any further than that.

***

Joseph huffed as he entered the stairwell, letting the door slam shut behind him. The mission had gone on far longer than it should’ve, and now he had to drag his tired ass up the stairs because the elevator was down. To make things worse, the newbie had left his gear in a disgusting pile, meaning Joseph had to go up to his room and tell him to tidy his shit up. It was as if the universe was playing some cruel joke to delay his return to bed for as long as possible.

He was halfway up the stairs when he realized that the odd weight on his left thigh were his shears. For a brief second, he contemplated just keeping them on him, but he wasn’t that stupid. If he didn’t put them away, he’d never see them again. Grumbling, he continued up the stairs, electing to go get Sil and then go back down to the garage. That way, he’d be able to make sure that Sil put his stuff away properly.

Quietly, he padded down the hall, careful not to wake any of the other guests. The carpet was a bland, vaguely green beige color that Joseph thought looked like vomit. Excellent design choice. He knocked on the door, waited a second to let Sil scramble around and get decent, and then entered.

The first thing that he noticed was that the lights were off. Had Sil already gone to bed?

“Wakey, wakey,” he called, flipping the lights on as he walked towards the bed.

Sil was splayed out on the covers, head tilted to the side, feet hanging off the bed. “Sil?” He tried again, tone more urgent. There was no response.

“Sil, you with me?” He said again, one hand digging for his phone while the other squeezed his shoulder tightly. “Sil!”

Nothing.

Automatically, his thumb tapped out INSUPA’s emergency number. His eyes flickered to Sil’s chest while he slid two fingers under his jaw.

No pulse. Not breathing.

Fuck.

The phone rang on speaker while he scooped Sil up and laid him down on the oor. At least Sil had the decency to be small.

“INSUPA Emergency Line. Please state your identication code,” a robotic voice chirped.

“One-four-eight. Bravo-Zulu. Codename: Exhale,” he yelled at the phone while he cut off Sil’s shirt, shears quickly tearing through the fabric. There was a thin, red, angry mark across his upper chest, a telltale power entry burn. Great.

Not wasting any more time, he interlocked his fingers and started pressing hard and fast in the center of his chest, counting to thirty. “Record your message after the beep,” the voice prompted.

“Exhale speaking, room 318, Holiday Inn. Racer is down, suspected powered impact,” he rattled off, doing his best to keep count. The moment he was done speaking, he moved up to Sil’s head.

“Message sent,” the voice said while Joseph pinched Sil’s nose shut, tilted his head back and forced air into his lungs. Two breaths later, he switched back to compressions, willing a teammate to walk through the door already. “State additional queries.”

“EMS to current location,” he said, trying to keep his voice at a semi-reasonable volume.

“Request sent: EMS to 247 Merchant’s Lane, room 318,” the voice echoed. He switched back to breaths, ignoring the dread that flared in his chest at the blue tinge of Sil’s lips and the far-gone look in his eyes.

Like before, he went back over to compressions. He could feel Sil’s ribs breaking under the pressure, but he kept going. Two more cycles passed before, finally, the sound of the door flew open, footsteps storming into the room. It was Eric, followed by Avia. He stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the scene for a moment before jumping into action.

“Help’s on the way?” Eric asked, and Josephed nodded. “Avia, AED.”

“Where-”

Joseph cut her off mid sentence. “Elevator lobby, by the ice machine.” “On it!” They bolted out the door.

Eric dropped to his knees across from Joseph, Sil’s lifeless body between them.

“Switch.” Joseph called, queuing Eric. There were several seconds of quiet while he leaned over and exhaled into Sil’s mouth, watching his chest rise. Eric took over, leaning over his chest and taking over from Joseph. “I was four cycles in. Been about two minutes. Didn’t see him go down. EMS is en route.”

Eric’s brow creased, but before he could respond, Avia returned, Teri and Aarav hot on her heels. They both stepped to the side to let her through, Aarav’s jaw dropping open in shock.

She quickly powered it on, handed the included mask to Joseph, and started sticking the pads to Sil’s chest. Eric kept working compressing while they nimbly worked around to get the pads on, then connected them to the machine.

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch the victim,” it said, in a voice that somehow sounded far kinder than INSUPA’s answering machine. The word “clear” echoed around the room as the three of them lifted their hands up. A beat passed while the machine worked. “Shock advised. Charging.”

Eric fit several more compressions in while it charged. “Press flashing button to deliver shock. Do not touch the victim.”

“Clear,” everyone said again, pulling their hands back and away. As soon as Avia was sure everyone was out of the way, they pushed the button. Sil’s body jerked as the current passed through him.

“Resume compressions,” it instructed.

Joseph watched Eric’s hands carefully, making sure they were deep enough, ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut. He should’ve caught this. He should’ve noticed that Sil had been hit, noticed that he wasn’t feeling well, and asked him about it. It was inexcusable.

They switched out again, Eric scooting down by Sil’s head after Joseph had taken over. He could feel Sil’s ribs under his hands, broken from his actions. Even though he knew it was necessary, it didn’t feel good. Five more sets, another shock, and another switch later, a knock came at the door. “EMS! Did somebody call for a person who collapsed?”

Teri opened it as fast as she could, letting the medics inside. There was a fourry of motion, Joseph explaining what had happened and what he’d done in response while they attached him to their debrillator and took over compressions. The energy in the room was tense, Eric and Avia backing away to give them room to work.

Joseph’s brow furrowed, unhappy with the sudden resistance he felt while bagging Sil. He tugged on his jaw, trying to position it better, when he saw Sil’s eyelids briey open and then fall closed. “I saw an eye utter, rhythm check.”

The medic paused compressions, and they all looked towards the monitor. His Ps, Qs, Rs, Ss, and Ts were all in order, a beautiful sinus rhythm. The other medic reached for his neck. “I’ve got a pulse,” they announced. That made Joseph briefly hopeful, and he quickly beat it away with a stick. He was too well acquainted with Murphy’s Law for that. His eyes flicked to Sil’s chest to check.

Please be breathing. Please be breathing.

It rose and fell under its power. Far too slowly, but it moved. Sil was alive.

Barely.

But Sil was alive.

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

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

... Okay so how much would it bother people if I posted the WoW Birthday event prompts out of order just so the story I'm working on makes sense chronologically? Because I've tried to bend over every which direction I can to fit the prompts together every day, but it's just not working and it's driving me insane.

All entries would still be tagged correctly with their assigned days and themes, the only difference is I'd post them to my blog out of order, IE: Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 14, 8, 6, 7, 9, 11, 12, 10, 13, 15

I will have a master post where the entries are listed in order for the event, and a separate post where the story entries are listed in order, even if they were posted out of order for the whump event. I just don't wanna confuse people? But maybe doing this is making things more confusing actually...? I have (mostly) finished entries ready to go but I haven't hit publish because my brain is itchy.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Nightmares (Magician's Bait, Part 3)

WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 5: Scream / Captivity / "NO!"

Whumpril Day 2 (Sweat), Day 11 (Can't Sleep), Day 18 (Broken Glass)

WoW Whump Event Prompts List

Whumpril Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

TW: captivity, chains, broken glass, monster, guns, death, knife, magic whump, nightmare, kidnapping mention, arguing

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

Context: It's been four years since Reese's life first went to shit. Although everything's settled down, she still has nightmares about the experience. An old friend and a bitchy magician visit her, seeking aid in the case of Damian's abduction.

-----

She was back in the cell.

The chains on her wrists, the bruises on her arms, the clear, tempered glass that allowed her captors to observe as her life force was stolen from her.

The cold, glass cell.

Reese’s voice bounced off the walls as she screamed for help. The vibrations shook her to the core, echoing from every direction, amplified and distorted. But she didn’t stop.

Not until the answering roar came from above.

Her heart jumped into her throat.

No.

Not the—

The monster barreled past her cell, claws scraping and gouging the floor in its haste for prey. Her.

Reese clamped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late. The monster noticed her somehow, by sight or sound or scent, and charged.

The force of the first blow cracked the glass. Strong as it was, the cell was never meant to hold a creature like that. A werewolf? Werebear?

It didn’t matter what sort of creature it was. As it backed up for a second strike, Reese made herself as small as possible, raising her forearms to protect her face.

The glass shattered at the second blow. The tiny, sharp pieces slashed at the exposed skin of Reese's arms, and something warm and wet ran down her arms, dripping onto the floor. A stray shard sliced through the skin below her left eye.

The monster roared, an ear-splitting cry echoing throughout the entire manor.

And the answering gunshot was just as loud.

Crack! Crack-crack! Crack-crack!

It took five bullets before the creature finally fell. Reese stared at the beast in shock as her savior stepped over its corpse, gun in hand, the glass crunching under his feet. She scrambled back, broken glass digging into the palms of her hands.

“It’s okay,” the guard said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

A strange noise came from above. A sound simultaneously like a hiss and a yowl.

The guard unlocked Reese’s chains and pulled her to her feet. “The experiment has failed,” he said, “you need to get away now!”

“But—” Reese protested, “you—”

The guard led her around the monster's corpse and down the corridor, shrugging off his mottled jacket as he did so. He thrust the coat at her, and she numbly put it on. 

“I’ll be okay,” he said. The voice had changed, and his face became Draven’s. Then Octavian’s. “You need to stay safe.”

They reached the door. The one leading out of the manor and into the forest. “NO!” Reese shouted, pulling away from him. “No… don’t leave me alone!”

“But you’re not alone,” Octavian said softly. When had the gun become a knife? “You have—”

A sharp voice cut through the air, speaking a word Reese did not understand. A rune. Octavian froze mid-word, eyes wide, before crumpling to the ground. Reese screamed, falling to her knees beside him, trying to find a pulse.

“Oh, child,” someone said behind her, “you can’t save him.”

Reese stiffened. She knew that voice!

Kaira snatched her by the arm and yanked her away from Octavian, turning her around. The woman’s face was contorted in rage. “Let’s see if you’re immune to knives too,” she hissed, rune-inscribed dagger raised high.

Reese watched, helpless, as it plunged towards her heart and—

She snapped awake, chest heaving, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Her skin was slick with sweat, and at some point, she'd kicked off her blankets. Curling up into a ball, Reese started to sob.

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

Barely an hour later, Reese was sitting at the dining table, wrapped in a blanket and sipping coffee, when a knock sounded from the door. She didn’t need to check a clock to know it was still early in the morning. The first hints of the sunrise had yet to leak over the horizon.

Grabbing her rune-inscribed knife from where she’d left it on the table, Reese silently crept to the door. She paused in front of it, listening.

“...you sure your contact can help us?” a woman’s voice.

“Yes.” The response was short, almost snappish, but recognizable enough.

Reese opened the door, keeping the dagger out of view. “This is early, even for you, Luc.”

Luc jumped, reaching for his akinaka blade before he realized what he was doing. He at least had the sense to look somewhat sheepish. “‘Morning, Reese. Sorry to wake you up.”

Reese eyed the person behind him. Her face was hidden beneath a gray cowl. “I wasn’t asleep. Who’s your friend?”

Luc glanced back at the woman. “She’s why we’re here at such an inconvenient hour. May we come in, please?”

Reese popped her head out the door and checked down the hallway. The lamps had burned low and wouldn’t be lit until after sunrise. Everyone else in the apartment complex was asleep, and the halls were deserted. She nodded and opened the door the rest of the way, leading them to the dining room.

“Coffee?” She motioned to the pot.

“Reese…” Luc’s tone was scolding, but she ignored it as she returned to her seat, setting her knife back on the table in full view of everyone. 

Thankfully, he let the matter drop, pulling out a chair for the woman before seating himself. “What I’m about to tell you is classified information and does not leave this room. Is that clear?”

Reese rolled her eyes. “You know who you’re talking to, right?”

“I need a better confirmation than that.”

“Yes. Understood. Point taken. Clear as glass.” She winced at the metaphor. Too soon.

Luc sighed. “Are you aware of the recent rumors pertaining to the prince?”

“You mean the ones claiming that he was sent to the north as ambassador to the elves? That he’s sick with the plague? Or that he abdicated the throne and the king just hasn’t announced it yet? Or—”

“Yes,” Luc interrupted before she could go on, “those. All those are speculating why the prince hasn’t made a public appearance in over a week. Well… I was just informed of the truth.”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “Prince Damian has been kidnapped.”

Reese blinked. “...okay…” she said slowly.

“Luc,” the woman said, speaking for the first time since she entered Reese’s home, “how is this child supposed to help us?”

“Caiya���” Luc warned softly as Reese’s hands curled into fists. “Don’t. She is exactly the right person to help. Probably the only person who can help.” 

He returned his attention to Reese. “We—Caiya, some detectives, and I—have determined that the abduction was… well… it was impossible unless the person who did it was a magician, or—”

“Or a Stalker,” Reese cut him off, thinking quickly. “One who Caiya can find, but is too much of a coward to fight.”

Caiya inhaled sharply, but Reese affixed her with a glare. “Save it. I might be young, but I’ve seen a lot of shit.” Her eyes flicked to Luc. “I’ll help, but only because I’m the only one who can, and only if I’m properly compensated.”

“Of course,” Luc agreed, a bit too eagerly. His chair scraped roughly against the floor as he stood. “I know it’s inconvenient, but could you return with us to my office? From there we can figure out our next move and you can speak with His Majesty yourself.”

“Excuse me, Luc,” Caiya interjected as Reese rose, “shouldn’t we let her parents know where she’s going?”

“My parents are visiting relatives across the ocean,” Reese snapped, “and they know I can handle myself.” She snatched her knife off the table and stalked out of the room to change. Responsibility or no responsibility, she was not going to get belittled by a self-righteous magician like Caiya Ebony. She’d faced far worse than the magician had imagined.

When Reese returned to the dining room, knife strapped to her thigh, a bag of essentials slung over her shoulder, and the familiar mottled jacket replacing the blanket, she arrived in the midst of an argument.

“Listen here,” Luc hissed, hands firmly planted on the table. “Magician or not, if you duel her, you will lose. Badly. She won that dagger, and she’d rather be cast into the depths than lose it. And if you challenge her to a duel, I will personally see to it that you face the prince’s captor by yourself. Are. We. Understood?”

“Did I miss something?” Reese asked softly.

Luc flinched and whirled around. His expression was neutral, but his cheeks were red from anger. “No,” he lied, shooting a glare at Caiya.

Reese’s eyes darted between Watcher and magician as she fought to keep the surge of pride from showing on her face. She made a mental note to thank Luc later when the magician wasn’t around. “Well… are we going then?”

“Yes,” Luc affirmed quickly. Too quickly. “Right now.”

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds

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

WOW Birthday Whump Event Masterlist

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

Chronological

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

By Plot

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

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