I'm such a fan of the stress position that's just a rope around whumpee's neck.
They can stand, they're not choking or anything. IT's not even that tight. But the longer they stand the more exhausted they get. But they just...can't sit down. Pass out form exhaustion and you start choking.
It's so simple but so elegant and effective to completely exhaust and frighten someone. Especially when you account for whumpee's irrational fear of tripping over nothing while holding completely still kicks in. Is whumper watching them? Will they help whumpee stand again if they fall? How long will they be stuck like this???
It just grates on their mind and I love it.
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Whumpuary Day 23-24
Prompt: Rescue
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; strangulation.
You saw the exact moment when Beta realized it was a trap. You had argued to be the bait, which the Whisperer had eagerly accepted, his wide strides bringing him only a few feet away before his eyes changed and panic consumed you.
“Daryl, he knows!”
It was too late. Daryl barreled from his hiding place with his knife drawn, intending to plunge it into Beta’s skull while the other man was preoccupied. The behemoth caught the archer by the throat, backhanding you with enough force to send you careening across the room and into the wall at the far end.
The world tilted, fuzzy and reduced to colors and shapes. You heard the unmistakable sounds of metal clattering to the floor. Daryl’s knife. Thumps, grunts, and finally a horrible wheezing filtered through before things began to shift into clarity.
Beta had Daryl against a wall, both hands around the archer’s neck. The latter kicked and squirmed to no avail just before Beta used his body to pin Daryl in place, his only means of defense remaining were fingers clawing against the iron grip that held him at least a foot off the floor.
“For Alpha.” The Whisperer declared, his arms long enough to keep the bowman from reaching him with a solid punch. The pressure around Daryl’s throat intensified, the whites of his eyes going red when blood vessels burst. He could no longer make noise, mouth hanging open in desperation for much needed oxygen. The process was meant to be torturous, dying slowly while the larger man looked on in twisted delight. You knew what was coming. If you didn’t act, you would surely hear the snapping of bone that would leave Daryl beyond saving.
You shakily pushed yourself onto all fours, drawing the knife hidden in your boot. Blinded by rage, you prepared, calculating. It had to be flawless, lest you unintentionally hurt Daryl in the process.
You allowed the memories to flow freely, supplying you with the strength you needed: Tara, Enid, Henry, Connie. The sounds of Carol’s wailing when she saw her son’s head on that pike. And now Beta dared to try and take your archer.
You steeled your resolve when Daryl’s struggling ceased, his eyes rolling back and his limbs falling limply against the wall. Pushing from the floor, you ran at Beta before he could anticipate your attack. He thought he had time to enjoy the archer’s slow demise.
Motherfucker thought wrong.
You hit his side with all the strength you had, his shock leaving him susceptible to your attack. Your knife plunged into his back over and over, seeking spine, kidneys, whatever your blade could reach. The man staggered sideways, the sound of glass shattering when you forced him straight through the window. You released your knife and took advantage of your momentum, hooking an arm around Daryl’s waist as you twisted, snatching the bowman from Beta’s grip as he plummeted to the ground below in what you hoped would leave him a broken heap on the concrete. You wanted to rip off his flesh mask and leave him for his own herd to devour.
You and Daryl struck the floor hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. You had hoped the impact would kickstart the archer’s need to draw in a breath but he remained still, silent. Two fingers to his neck found a slow thrum.
“You don’t get to die, damn you!” You tilted back his head, pinching his nose to breathe for him desperately. It only took two rescue breaths for him to respond. A deep, painful sounding inhale that left you dizzy with relief. “That’s it. Just breathe.”
You didn’t need to wait long before he regained consciousness, the red coloring of his eyes in unsettling contrast to the cerulean blue. “Welcome back.” You smiled wetly, petting his hair.
“Beta?” He rasped, coughing harshly. You shushed him, your hand settling on his cheek.
“If he’s not dead, he’s certainly not happy.” An eager but chaste kiss was pressed against Daryl’s lips. You yearned for more, needing to feel his warmth; desperate to confirm you hadn’t lost him. His throat was already darkening into a mess of blacks and deep purples. “Don’t try to talk.” Your hand returned to stroking his hair. “Just rest. We’re safe for the time being.”
With clumsy movements of heavy limbs, Daryl sought your hand, pinning it against his chest when you offered it up.
“I will fuck up anyone who comes near you.” A less desperate press of your lips to his forehead. “I’ve got you.”
@thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @feral4daryl @deansapplepie @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @loganlostitall @callmeyn @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bigbaldheadname @bananafire11 @graciepies @georgiadixon @esgoraths @hutchersonsgurl @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @KatelynAngel @richardsamboramylove55 @m0ss-g0blin @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @ass-butt-themusical @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @ashtonbabe @atyourmomshouse01 @dixonzzgirl @unhingedbiatch @bultamer @lumimon47 @easystreet07
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My father was Lightning McQueen (he looked human, but my paperwork and everything said the racecar was my dad), and Lightning was rumored to have killed someone. It was an unfounded rumor, not even a court case for him to have been charged with anything, but TMZ refused to let it go. On a race for charity, my dad won, but he ended up crashing and being on death's bed because of how bad it was. My existence was hidden, but when I shrieked, "Dad," and ran towards him, some man who had been celebrating grabbed me and strangled me. He gleefully said that McQueen would pay for the death that he was suspected of doing by having a dead child before he dies, but someone helped get him off of me before I could die.
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"if I turned up the heat..."
"Alexei, please, don't--"
"how long do you think you'd burn before your windpipe melted shut?"
Wildefire Masterlist
@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump , @snakebites-and-ink
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