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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 months

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🥄 Force-feeding for Ryan or Danny please

CW: Not-exactly-human whumpee, iron burns, mouth whump, intimate/creepy whumper, dehumanization

Every bite burns.

His palms press into the uneven old floor, fingers scraping along the stained, ancient tile. He has to lower himself down, lapping up the broth with his tongue, holding back a whimper as it tingles, burns, throbs. His gums ache, his teeth hurt, as he forces himself to chew a bit of beef, swallowing only with effort.

Ryan closes his eyes against the sting of tears.

"Good," Abraham says, voice low and husky. "Again."

He swallows, tasting iron and copper. The corners of his mouth are torn and bleeding, his lips roughly chapped. As the liquid coats his mouth, the skin pulls apart, reopening tender spots that had only just begun to heal. Blood mixes with the seasoning.

Tastebuds slough away as the iron Abraham has mixed into the stew moves over his tongue, leaving tender, unready tissue to burn ever deeper.

He has to take another bite.

Ryan forces himself to lean down, trying to focus on the burn of the muscles in his arms as they stretch to hold his weight, and laps up a little cooked carrot.

His mouth flashes in terrible pain.

He coughs, fighting the urge to spit it out, feeling the weight of Abraham's eyes on him. Ryan and Danny kneel side by side on the floor, and Ryan doesn't dare look at his brother.

Not because of what Abraham might do.

But because he's not sure if he looks into Danny's eyes, that there will be anything there in the blue eyes that look back. Sometimes, Danny just... isn't there, anymore.

Ryan isn't convinced he will always come back.

Ryan breathes, saltwater dripping into the stew. The iron in it burns all the way down his throat. A bright, hot ache grows in his chest and even down to his stomach.

There's only a few bites left.

He can't do this.

"Please," He whispers. "Please, I can't."

"Of course you can," Abraham coos, syrupy-sweet, leaning over to run his fingers through Ryan's tangled hair, scratching along his scalp. It sends goosebumps up and down Ryan's arms, and he fights the urge to jerk backwards.

Never pull away from Abraham's touch.

"You said you were hungry," Abraham continues, falsely sympathetic, petting Ryan like a frightened dog. White hair falls against his cheek as he looks down. "Didn't you? So finish your food, Faerie Boy. Neither of you gets up until it's gone."

"Nnn-" He catches himself.

Never say no.

Ryan groans instead of answering, staring down at what's left in the bowl. It's not that much-

It's too much.

It's so, so much.

It's going to hurt so much.

"Y-yes, Abraham," He whispers, because always answer Abraham, never hesitate when he speaks to you. The rules burn nearly as badly as the iron. The rules... and the fact that he knows every single one, now.

It's just a few more bites.

He can't do this-

He has to do this.

The iron collar around his throat burns on the outside, and every single bite burns all the way down within.

Abraham makes him lick up the blood that drips from his tongue, too.

#daniel michaelson's story #the bad arc #mouth whump #tongue whump #nonhuman whumpee #fae whumpee #fae whump #forced feeding #dehumanization tw #creepy whumper #captive whumpee #pet whump #whump

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avvail-whumps · 8 months

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Fae AU??? Like with all the fae glamours and tricks and rigged “games” and maybe the whole thing where if you eat the food there you can never leave…

Leo knew he wasn’t meant to be out in the forest alone. He also knew that he was bound to step into a hidden trap, laid out for unsuspecting little humans that were certain to fall victim to them.

Part of him had never believed the stories growing up. So, maybe he could blame it on being slightly naive, when his eyes were drawn to a cluster of mushrooms.

He had thought the little circle they formed was pretty to look at; it wasn’t a suprise he found himself hopping into it, smiling slightly to himself to ease the tension of being lost. He admired the large ring for a long while, before gazing up at the sky.

It would be getting dark soon.

The wise thing to do would be to start finding his way back, hopefully before the sun set and the moon rose into the sky. He had been about to start moving, when a sudden crackle of a twig made his head whirl around.

Leo’s heart fluttered in his throat at the sight of a man by the tree, gazing at him intensely. He couldn’t help but let out a suprised breath, a hand instinctively pressing against his chest from the scare.

“You scared me,” he breathed shakily, avoiding the man’s intense stare. There was long, tense pause, before the strange man seemed to smile. There was something peculiar about him, this uncanny aura flowing from him, but Leo noted that he was pretty handsome. Alluringly handsome, in fact, and he found himself stealing glimpses at him on occasion.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he hummed, stepping away from the tree and closer to the ring. His feet stopped just outside of it, but Leo stayed planted where he was. “Are you lost?”

There was something a little odd about the man. Leo could feel his gut instincts stirring in his stomach, his hairs pricking on edge. He hesitantly licked his lips, feeling somewhat awkward now.

“Uh, no,” he answered back, trying to keep his voice from wobbling. He wondered how the man had so easily snuck up on him. Like he’d just appeared from thin air. “I’m on my way home.”

The man’s lip curved up into an amused smirk. His eyes were so intense that he forced himself to look elsewhere, swallowing nervously.

“You’re a bit far out, you know,” the man shrugged. Leo glanced at him, noting how his demeanour had seemed to shift, and he looked a little bit more normal. That unease pricking at the back of his neck seemed to lift, and the knot in his stomach untangled itself. Leo had been in a world of his own. The man was staying far enough away from him, at least.

“I know,” he breathed, rubbing his fingers together awkwardly. “That’s why I should probably go.”

The man hummed. Leo, for some reason, felt glued to the very spot he was standing on. He didn’t really want the man out of his sights if he could help it; his eyes were incredibly intense whenever he was trapped in his gaze.

“What’s your name?”

Leo’s eyebrows rose slightly. They furrowed in confusion after a second, eyes darting to the ground. “Oh, it’s...” He hesitated. “Leo.”

“Leo?” The man hummed, his lip curving up into an amused smirk. At the sound of his name, Leo immediately pricked up, a strange sensation washing over him. It fell right down to the bottom of his stomach, and he could feel his forehead becoming clammy from the sudden outburst of anxious nerves. The man chuckled.

“Is that...funny?” Leo grumbled under his breath, a little embarrassed. He waved a hand airily.

“I don’t think you’d find it very humourous, little lion.”

Leo frowned. Little what—?

His feet shuffled backwards as the man took a step forward, crossing the ring of mushrooms.

“Okay, I think I’m going to go,” Leo hurriedly whispered, violently trying to shake off the sudden impatient surge from his body. “Thank you for your concern.”

Leo spun around hastily to make a dash through the trees. He didn’t make it step out of the ring though, because what he was looking at wasn’t trees. There were no trees. He blinked slowly, registering the gentle brush of wind on his cheeks. His eyes raked around, and his stomach dropped straight to his boots.

He wasn’t in the forest anymore. Whatever land he was in, was a breathtakingly beautiful one. A watercolored sky, painted with light blues that melted beautifully into each other. Perfect hills of fresh, green grass, and the rush of a flowing lake by the flowers.

Leo’s mouth went dry, and a coil of absolute terror stabbed through his heart. The mushroom ring. The stories.

His eyes found the man’s, all coy and fox-like.

“I told you my name,” he whispered in horror under his breath. The man hummed under his breath, smirking.

“Yes, you did.”

A stray tear rolled down his cheek. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, little lion,” he murmured softly, easing forward so he was close enough to touch him. Leo went to jerk away, despite the fuzziness and the lightheadedness, but the man was quick to stop him.

“Don’t move, Leo.”

So he didn’t.

He didn’t exactly have a choice. Even the air was sweet smelling, so much that it was making him dizzy. The man’s fingers were gently wiping away the tears with the gentlest of touches, his other hand tangling within his own.

Leo could feel himself being pulled along, and it was as though his legs weren’t even attached to his own body. The man—the creature, the fae—was taking him somewhere, inside a house, the sudden burst of delicious smells overwhelming his senses. Leo’s slack expression nearly brightened up when he was welcomed by a long table stacked with food.

There was everything there. Anything he could have dreamt of. The man’s hand eased along his lower back, making shivers tingle up his spine.

In a blink, he realised he’d crossed the room, and he was already holding an apple in his hand. Leo suddenly jolted, snapping out of it, jerking away from the man’s grip.

“Take me back,” he demanded, and realised that tears had been rolling down his cheeks without even realising since he arrived here. His hand felt itchy, trying not to let the panic shake his voice. “Please. Please, I’m begging you.”

“I can hear that, lion,” the man purrred, motioning to the food. “I’ll take you back. Unless you’d like to eat.”

Leo’s frantic brain tried to remember the rules. There were rules to this. What was it? Don’t give up your name? Don’t bargain? Don’t—

He heaved on a sob, craning away from his touch once again. “Please let me go.”

“You can eat a little before you go,” the man pressed, his head tilting to the side. His eyes slid down to the apple clenched in his hand, so tightly his knuckles had gone white. “A bite won’t hurt. Go on, little lion. Just a taste.”

Those words were like a haunting little whisper in his ear. An enticing, tempting command for him to battle with valiantly. Leo opened his mouth to say something, to refuse and to find his way out of this stunning, perfect, extravagant land, but there was a sudden burst of sweetness on his tongue and—

Oh. He was eating the apple.

Leo’s eyes flickered up in horror.

Now he remembered the rules.

And from the look on the fae’s face, he knew it too.

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friendlyforestbeast · 4 months

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Chapter 4 Part 35-38.

Masterpost

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befuddled-calico-whump · 1 year

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Hear me out:

Fairy Wump (or any tiny one tbh)

Put them in a jar and then shake it. Watch them be tossed around in it, getting hurt, hitting their head and breaking bones, whatever.

Or maybe dont shake it?

Just put them in a jar and leave them there. Watching as they slowly but surely run out of oxygen. As they begin to suffocate.

Or kinda combine the two, a funny little remix of some sort:

Fill the jar with water. Not fully but enough so that they'll have to swim.

Then shake it.

Thus you can watch them while they are fighting for their life, stuggeling to get to the surface to catch gasp of air just for them to accidentally inhale water over and over again-

And just as their strenght fades away, they give up and stop fighting their inevitable death, you open the jar and spill it over.

Maybe you injured the creature even more by tossing them out of the glas? Who knows.

They cough up water and perhaps even blood. (Maybe the insertion of secondary drowning afterwards)

They cower in pain or even loose their consciousness.

I could go on...

My mind is kinda fucked to be honest. My apologies

FILLING THE JAR WITH WATER---

ooh that is genius. So mean (I love it)

could also tie in with this prompt 👀

#may draw this eventually 🤔#whump prompt #anon #tiny whump #fae whump #nonhuman whumpee #g/t whump

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bloodsweatandpotato · 2 years

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Life on the shelf

#whump #whump art #whump oc #tiny whumpee #fairy whump #fae whump #her collection #pet whump #nonhuman whumpee

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quietly-by-myself · 2 years

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Fearless - Chapter 1 (Pilot)

Remember that fantasy whump teaser I posted a few days ago?

Have a pilot chapter while I work on Shadow By My Fireplace and the final chapter of Smoke, Salt, and Asbestos. I keep my pilot chapters shorter, so I apologize for the short length. I will definitely write more for each chapter in the future.

CW: fantasy whump, vampire (dhampir) whumpee, human whumpee, fae whumper, guns, character gets shot, war, revenge-driven whumper, disproportionate retribution, multiple whumpees, bonded whumpees, creepy whumper

===

Silver-iron bullets whistled through the air behind Nikolay’s head.

Kaloyan. I have to find Kaloyan.

If his village wanted to be rid of him, Nikolay knew he had no choice. Cold rain pelted his face, thunder storming out the gunshots that came behind him. As Nikolay dodged one of the bullets, his hand touched the ground. Nikolay focused all of his energy into the ground. Beneath him, the ground started to shake.

“He’s already accepted their witchcraft!” one of the villagers shouted behind him.

The ground split open beneath him, trapping the villager with the gun in the ground. In some twisted way, as Nikolay ran for his life, the villager with the gun only had a better angle to shoot at him at.

A bullet quickly lodged itself in the back of Nikolay’s knees. Nikolay fell to the ground with a cry of pain.

“Kaloyan! Help me!”

He was nearly at their meeting place. Maybe, just maybe Kaloyan would be there.

A crash of thunder lit up the sky. Nikolay whimpered as the villagers gained on him. He was bleeding and gods, he was in so much pain.

Blood red eyes met his. Kaloyan.

The ground shook again as green flames erupted from the cracks that formed. Around them.

“It’s the Lord’s bastard son! Everybody, run!”

Kaloyan looked down at Nikolay with a pained look in his eyes. His skin looked more pale than usual against the green fire that blocked the villagers from hurting them any more.

They were running in fear of the dhampir that was now kneeling next to Nikolay.

“They found out, didn’t they?”

Nikolay nodded, trying to sit up despite the bullet lodged in his leg. “I’m sorry, Kaloyan.”

“It isn’t your fault.” Kaloyan looked sadly at Nikolay. “I wish I could heal you.”

“It really hurts.”

“You can’t walk like that,” Kaloyan said decisively. “You saved my life, Nikolay. It’s only fair that I save yours.”

Nikolay looked at Kaloyan, shock painting his face. However, he could do nothing to stop Kaloyan, now that this mind was made up.

“O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things / That draws oblivions curtains over kings.”

As Kaloyan chanted and the villagers ran and screamed, chains grew from the ground and surrounded Nikolay. At first, Nikolay knew not what was happening, but as his wound started to heal and the bullet disappeared, he suddenly understood.

“Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not / Their names without a Record are forgot.”

Suddenly, Nikolay was filled with a surge of power. Once again, the ground shook. The villagers screamed as the house near them came falling down to the ground.

“Their parts, their ports, their pomp’s all laid in th’ dust. / Nor wit, nor gold, nor buildings scape times rust.”

Nikolay stood up, the ground shaking everywhere around them but beneath his feet.

“But he whose name is grav’d in the white stone / Shall last and shine when all of these are gone.”

The chains began to disappear, as did the green fire. Nikolay had never felt so strong as in that moment. Power rushed through every bone in his body.

“Leave!” he bellowed. “Leave us be!”

The few villagers that remained shouted curses at him, but Nikolay was on top of the world with the power surging through him.

He knew what had just happened, though he’d only heard of it in stories.

“Why? Why bond with me Kaloyan? Why make me a mage?”

“There’s no one I’d rather stand by than you, Nikolay.”

Turning his back on his village, Nikolay nodded. “I promise to honor your sacrifice.”

“And I will yours.”

The rain didn’t feel so cold as he walked in the night with his bonded fae, not a bullet to be seen.

—

Nikolay awoke with a start on a cold, hard stone. floor As he looked around frantically, he found that Kaloyan was nowhere to be seen. Chains rattled around his wrists and his neck, wrists, and ankles burned, though he only bore restraints on his wrists, binding them together.

Kaloyan. Kaloyan is in pain.

Who could’ve found us?

Nikolay’s side hurt. Why? What had happened?

The memories flooded back to him. The strange knock on the door. The stranger who claimed to know them. Had he been sent from the forces of the Dragon King? It couldn’t be. Even the Dragon King knew not where he and Kaloyan lived.

The black sclera of the man who walked in the door only served to confuse Nikolay further.

The person who stood before him was Tainted. The Dragon King banished all Tainted. It wasn’t possible that the Tainted was from the Dragon King, was it?

“I see that you don’t remember me, Nikolay.”

Nikolay stayed quiet, giving the man a sidelong glare as he circled him.

“I sure haven’t forgotten you. I remember that day like it was yesterday. You fucking destroyed my village.”

Nikolay felt a sudden, stabbing pain in his side. He noticed no blood from his own side, but felt like he was bleeding.

“What are you doing to Kaloyan, you bastard!”

“What, you mean that dhampir half-blood bastard?” the man asked with a chuckle. “I’ve waited one hundred years to torture you two.”

“Don’t you dare hurt him! You don’t know the hell he’s been through.”

“And what of the hell you two put me through, Nikolay?”

“I don’t even know you,” Nikolay growled. As he thrashed against his restraints, Nikolay noticed that he felt a certain disconnect from his magic.

Another stabbing pain hit him, this time in the knee.

“I know how you mages are. You’re so very close to your fae creatures. You feel their pain and everything. Each time you piss me off, Kaloyan is going to suffer for it. So, I recommend that you start behaving.” He smirked. “My name is Dimitar. One hundred years ago, you and Kaloyan tore down my village at the order of the Dragon King. I’ve come to exact my revenge.”

Nikolay was beyond angry. He needed to escape. He needed his magic. He needed Kaloyan.

“Kaloyan and I tore down many villages in our time with the Dragon King. How do I know what village you were from?”

Dimitar scoffed. “Do you seriously think that saying that makes your sins any less heavy?”

Another stabbing pain, this time in the back of his neck.

Nikolay could feel Kaloyan’s anguish. Kaloyan was crying. Kaloyan was begging. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why, but the feeling was horrible. He was a mage. The two were supposed to protect each other. They were supposed to live in peace, away from the war they escaped, away from the Dragon King, and away from the people they’d hurt.

“Torture me all you want. Just stop hurting Kaloyan.”

“It doesn’t exactly work like that, does it? You two have been bonded, what, for over one hundred years? You practically live in the same body.”

Dimitar laughed as Nikolay fell to the ground, on his face from a sharp stabbing pain in his hip. Kaloyan could survive many stabbings, many more than Nikolay could. However, the pain from all the stab wounds was agonizing.

“I’ll definitely have fun torturing you both before I kill you.” He smiled. “I think a reunion is in order, no? It’ll be fun.”

Nikolay seemed to have a very different definition of “fun.”

===

Everything bagel tags: @i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpsday

#fearless story #vampire whumpee #bonded whumpee #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump fic #intimate whumper #whump community #human whumpee #multiple whumpees #fae whump #fantasy whump #nonhuman whumper #nonhuman whumpee #nonhuman whump

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mightaswell-whump · 6 months

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In which Sebastian, being fey, is hurt by iron.

Caecilius loves to dress him in iron jewelry and parade him about like he would any prize. He especially likes the way the burn marks heal, leaving shimmering pale skin in their wake.

The tail is a fine plaything for whump, you could do anything with it.

#pet whump #whump oc #nonhuman whumper #nonhuman whumpee #whump art #fairy whump #tail whump #fae whump

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weirdcorewhump · 1 year

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For The Fae { 1 }

( Finally starting a series! This is a whumpee/caretaker fic. The scene is set in an AU, for them the year 4516. Humans live in 14-1500s reminiscence with appliances. Some humans are born with a certain type of blood and eyes, the blood being a pinkish color and their eyes having a pinkish tint to them as well. No health issues or abilities come with this, and they make up about 1/3 of the population. The "normal" people believe them to be of the devil or witchcraft, so they turned them to slaves. Because of this, slavery is commonplace, though is treated like "saving" lower beings. Slaves are the children of other slaves and are not from free people except in rare occasions as punishment for crime. Cottagecore vibes with housing. Our scene is set with Marc, our slave whumpee, and Talan, our fae caretaker. Really short but just trying this one out. We begin! )

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

His breath had caught when he overheard his master speaking with the mayor. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, really he hadn't, he was just cleaning. But they were loud, and he was there. He should've cleaned somewhere else, the mansion was huge after all. But he heard them. He heard his master offering him for the worst thing he could be. The sacrifice. The fae had been angry this year, sending bad weather and plaguing the crops with death, so the town decided to send a sacrifice. A person (wrong, he is not a person) goes into the forest with a basket of gold and goods for the fae creatures to appease them.

He tried to be better, to be good, to avoid his fate, but it did not change. That's how he came to today. Holding a heavy basket of gold jewelry and sweets in front of a forest. His eyes watered as an order was barked for him to enter the forest. His collar felt as if it was choking him. No one cried for his leave as he stepped into the forest and disappeared between the trees. In fact, they cheered for the idea of success and appeasement of the fae.

He stepped through the forest tentatively, terror flooding his mind whenever he heard a noise. I'm going to die here, he thought over and over, I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die yet. A shadow flew across his vision. He froze. " Hello? Is-Is someone there...? ". No response. A bird, or a squirrel perhaps.

Until a voice rang out. " WHO ARE YOU IN MY TERRITORY, FOR HE WHO SHALL TRESPASS SHALL SURELY NEVER LEAVE. " Pure fear shot through his body as he dropped the basket in front of him and fell to his knees, head bowed. " Sorry-Sorry, my name is Mar-Marc, I'm sorry, please don't kill me please, my master had me come here, please I beg you do not kill me ". He begged and cried, hoping for mercy from whatever creature was soon to emerge from the shadows as he saw a shadow step on the ground before him.

The creature picked up the basket and inspected it, before placing it down. " Marc. Your... what, made you come here? ". " My Master ", he stammered, " My master did. " Whoever was before him went silent, before a hand reached down. A human-looking hand. His head was tilted up to see the person, because now he could see it was a person. He thought. A man, with warm tawny skin and bright yellow eyes. His ears were pointed, and his face was angular but somehow welcoming. He looked young, maybe in his 20s, but seemed sad or shocked. " You. ", the man spoke, " have a master? ". " Yes sir I, I do. Master Callow, sir. " He tried not to make eye contact with the new man.

" Hm. Curious... ". The person grabbed Marc's hand. " Follow me. I will take you to my dwelling. For now, if you must have one, I decree I am your master. " He was shocked, but stood. " Yes sir, master- sorry- I'll follow you now, master. " He took a breath, forced back his tears, and followed the man deeper into the trees. Where no one could hear him scream.

#whump fic #whump #slave whump #whump blog #whump community #whump drabble #whump ideas #whump writing #whumpblr #whumpuary #fae whump #whumpee x caretaker #caretaker new master #caretaker x whumpee #fae caretaker #human whumpee #possumposts

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loonybun · 16 days

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guys i’m sure he’d never try to lure you into the realm of the fae. guys you can trust him. guys just look at his little face. he’d never ever try to eat you. not even a tiny bit. definitely not.

#and the reason why i am saying this instead of it coming from the man himself is because he is not capable of telling lies.#whump community #fae whump #character intro #(more or less. i just want the world to see him.)#(my silly guy…)#his name is aisling by the way

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theres-whump-in-that-nebula · 1 year

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Whimsical Tiny Whump

Whumper puts aquatic Whumpee in a snow globe so they can shake them throughout the day

Imprisoning Whumpee inside the second-smallest nesting doll, and then proceeding to put it inside all the rest of the nesting dolls, until there are eight layers between Whumpee and freedom (and at some point the air would start to get very hot and thin)

Whumper playing with Whumpee alongside their Polly Pockets (or some other small, nostalgic toy set)

Getting trapped on the highest layer of a bookshelf while being afraid of heights

Using a normal-sized sewing needle as a javelin against a mouse

A tiny, fuzzy jumping spider attacking a much larger spider to protect its injured owner (as a variation on the trope of the friendly dog going out to defend its owner from a wolf) I’m sad now wtf

Whumpee in a flying machine crashing into a garden pinwheel because of the wind

Fae Whumpee wakes up after an accident to the feeling of worms being shoved down their gullet by a mother robin who took pity on them

Human Caretaker who works as a tailor being delighted to make little clothes for Whumpee

Hobbyist Caretaker gives Whumpee their handmade dollhouse to stay in until they recover. They continue to make functioning pieces as they need them. When they ask over the phone for advice on what supplies to use to make a tiny bathtub and toilet with real plumbing, the hobby store workers are delighted (but also mildly weirded out) that this person has such a commitment to novelty

Human Caretaker doesn’t know what’s wrong with Whumpee until Whumpee bites them and they figure out, to their horror, Whumpee is probably rabid or suffering from some other infectious disease

#whump #whump prompts #tiny whump #nonhuman whumpee #fae whump #bugs tw #worms tw #writing prompt #fantasy whump

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deckofaces · 1 year

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Hi bestiiie please please please could you write a fae whumpee with yandere human(s)? No pressure ofc and thank you in advance 💕

Please accept these lesbian fairies as a token of my appreciation ✨️

Omg of course you can request that bestie <3 I hope you like it! (Also ugh I love the fairies, I cherish them)

Gilded Cage

Tw: burns/blisters, yandere whumper, captivity, fae whumpee, use of iron against whumpee

Faerie sat down on the soft, but fake grass of their room. Surrounding them there were potted plants everywhere. Some of them were huge and almost reached the ceiling while the others were tiny. It seemed like an insult, the fake forest Human provided for them. They missed the real one, the one they were from. Their wings were folded behind their back and tears ran down their face as they wished they could escape.

They looked down at their wrist. It throbbed horribly. There sat an iron cuff, the human that had taken them prisoner knew enough about fae to not fall for their tricks and knew that iron weakened them. So much so they could not escape.

Faerie hopelessly picked at the cuff, trying anything to pull it off their wrist. All they could do was wince in pain as the action just burned their fingers.

They glanced up as they heard the loud sound of the door unlocking. Human stepped into the room carrying a bag with them and crouched down in front of the faerie. They wiped their tears, though Faerie pulled their head away soon after.

“Hello my Faerie,” Human hummed, admiring the faerie that sat in front of them.

“Don’t call me that,” they whispered in reply, “I do not know your name, do not use mine.”

Human chuckled at that, wiping more tears. “Oh dear.. You know I can’t give you my name. That is not why you are here. But do not think about that.. Why are you crying?”

Why had the faerie been crying? Maybe humans really were that stupid. Everything about their situation made them want to sob. But currently it was the condition of their wrist. It looked to be covered in burns from the iron cuff, and it ached like nothing else they have ever felt. They weakly lifted their cuffed wrist, showing Human their burns.

The human did not look too fazed by all the burns and blisters, as if they expected it to happen. But when they spoke, they sounded calm and almost caring. “That will not do, I do not want permanent scarring if I can help it. I need to keep your beauty intact.”

They stood up and walked towards the bathroom that connected to the faerie’s main room. They leaned against the wooden door waiting for Faerie. “Well? Come on then.”

Faerie hesitated on the ground. Human would help them? There must be a trick, but they looked back down at their burning wrist and thought anything would be better in that moment than the iron on their skin. They shakily stood up and made their way to the bathroom.

“Once you fully understand that this is where you are meant to stay, Faerie, the iron cuff will no longer be necessary.” Human unlocked the cuff, it fell off their wrist and they put it back in their bag. Faerie almost cried out from relief as the pain suddenly lessened and cool air hit their skin.

Soon after, Faerie heard the sound of rushing water coming from the faucet. Human put their arm under it, they tried to yank their arm away at the sudden cool feeling, but Human’s grip on their arm tightened.

“Shh don’t do that. The water is cooling the burn. It will ease the pain dear Faerie.” Human guided their wrist back under the water which caused them to sharply inhale. However they slowly started to relax, they hated that the human had been right. After a few minutes the pain eased to a low throb.

To prevent drying out the skin, Human turned off the water and took out lotion from their bag. They put a little in their hand and applied it to Faerie’s wrist. Their touch felt so gentle, Faerie found themself relaxing just a bit, letting out a breath they were holding.

Their eyes followed Human’s hand on their burned wrist. “Why..”

“Hm? What is it?” They paused their work, looking up at Faerie and meeting their eyes.

Faerie gulped, trying again. “Why.. why do I have to stay here?” They tensed up again, afraid of Human’s reaction to their question.

Human smiled warmly at them. “The city is too dangerous for you. You were lucky that I was the one that found you first when you wandered into civilization.”

Tears welled up in Faerie’s eyes again, they wished someone else found them. “You could have just taken me back to the forest. Not here.”

Human found sterile gauze bandages in their bag as well. They took care to wrap it loosely around Faerie’s wrist. “Dear, dear, there is no reason to cry. If I took you back to the forest, I could never guarantee your safety. Forests can be dangerous too. Or what if a faerie hunter came after you? I would never forgive myself. You will be better in my hands.”

“But-“

“No buts,” Human said lovingly to the faerie. They ran their hand through their long wavy hair, massaging their scalp.

“Let’s go back out into the main room, I’ll let you rest without the iron cuff on, you look exhausted.”

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moonstonewhump · 9 months

Text

CW: abduction/capture, poison-induced paralysis, restraints, wing whump, lady whump

WC: 1267

Humans.

The word pulsed in her mind, the one word she’d been taught to fear, the one word she could not forget.

Humans.

A wooden cart, four walls, the sound of wheels turning over a dirt road speckled with gravel, the even fainter hum of voices somewhere outside, that barbaric human language just out of reach of her hearing. She let her eyes wander over the surroundings—dim and cramped and empty other than her motionless form.

The dart they’d used left her muscles useless—her body paralyzed, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath the only signs to an onlooker that she was even still alive. She, however,could feel the faint twitching in her fingers and toes, the weak fluttering of her eyelashes that hardly counted as blinking.

None of that disturbed her.

No, there were two other pieces that were ringing in her head—two things she couldn’t comprehend. Couldn’t abide.

One: How did they find her?

Humans weren’t supposed to set foot in their territory. They shouldn’t have even been able to see her in the thicket. Somehow, they did.

But there was something more pressing than that.

Two: What did they do to her wings?

She could weakly wiggle her digits in spite of whatever poison they’d shot into her, and she could breathe, and if she really tried, if she really concentrated, she could even move her arms and legs a hair’s breadth or two.

But her wings—

They were numb. Motionless. Still there—but useless for now.

If she were human, if she shed tears, she would have been sobbing. But fairies didn’t weep. So she lay still, bound by the poison in her veins, thinking the most ancient and powerful prayers she could remember since her tongue wouldn’t work to speak them.

Prayers for strength. Salvation. Retribution. Healing.

She wouldn’t say the prayers for mourning just yet.

There were too many things about this that didn’t make sense. Humans and fairies had spent so many years living in a delicate balance, perhaps even a wary harmony. Why strike now? And why strike a nobody, a low-class fairy like her, who could have nothing to offer them?

And so the third biting worry came to light: What did they want with her?

She didn’t need windows in the still-rattling cart to tell her that the light was changing outside. Soon, it would be twilight, and if the poison’s hold on her limbs would just fade a little more—

Then they’d find out what they were dealing with.

Because she was a Night Fairy, and once the sun dipped below the horizon, they’d have something to contend with.

So she lay in wait, fighting the poison. With each passing moment, she could feel more strength returning to her fingers. When they came to put their filthy human hands on her again, she would be ready.

Slowly, their blunt, unpleasant human language grew a little clearer and stronger, and the rattling wagon slowed to a stop. Crunching footsteps outside. A shift in the dimness as the wooden doors swung open, revealing the armed men who had ripped away her freedom.

“Don’t look it in the eyes.” It took her a moment to understand their guttural words. It. They meant her—she nearly wanted to laugh as she realized that they feared her very gaze. They had been taught to fear fairykind, just as she’d been taught to fear the humans.

She wriggled her fingers again, or tried to. They moved sluggishly—still too weak, too stiff.

She fixed her eyes on the view of the sky instead, heartened by the sight of the moon and stars gleaming above. Just as she’d hoped, just as she’d prayed for, she felt her strength beginning to grow just by looking.

You humans are no match for fairy magic. She tried to open her mouth, and this time, though her tongue felt thick and heavy and dry, it worked.

“Stay away.” She planted her palms to the wagon floor, barely sensing the splinters digging into her skin from the rough wood. They didn’t understand the fairy tongue, but it didn’t matter. When she met the gaze of her nearest captor, her meaning was clear.

“It’s awake. It’s up.” His voice was rising with alarm.

“You should fear me.” She could still feel weakness in her legs—but they didn’t know that. She crawled forward just a touch, like she meant to, like she preferred to move that way. Let the human men think of her as a feral beast. Better that than to be trapped among them.

The one who had spoken backed away.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted one of the men drawing a knife. She turned to him, baring fangs.

Fangs she didn’t usually display, but moonlight magic—shadow magic—did wonders to spook those of simple mind. The dagger in his hand began to shake.

Then, a word caught her ears, whispered among the men to her other side, one of too many she didn’t understand, but the only one that mattered—

Wings.

She didn’t feel it.

Not in the way humans felt things—with visceral, radiating pain or the physical sensation of a knife ripping through the flesh of her wings.

No, this she felt within—a blow so stunning to her very existence that every drop of strength seemed to seep out of her in an instant, sending her reeling into the floor of their accursed wagon.

Her wings. Her wings.

Did they bleed? She’d never hurt her wings before, had never been so careless as to leave them exposed and open to attack—but more so, no fairy would ever dream of disabling another fairy’s wings. She tried to perceive a wet swath of blood coating her back, but she couldn’t.

She couldn’t feel it.

The humans clambered in now, their voices harsh and urgent and ugly, their fear banished. One pulled a black bag over her head, stealing her sight, deadening her hearing, and even interfering with her sense of smell. A rope bound her arms to her sides, but they did not bind her feet. A scream rose up in her throat when they pulled her up, forced her to stand, but she didn’t know if she was truly screaming or not.

Her wings.

Her feet struck the ground outside the wagon, and her knees buckled beneath her. I can’t. But the humans couldn’t hear that, couldn’t see that. They just stood her up, yanking on the rope that bound her, tugging her forward.

How could they?

She stumbled forward, unable to resist the pull of the rope that dragged her with them. What were they going to do to her? What did they have planned? Did it even matter? What could they possibly do to her now that was worse than what they’d already done?

The terrain changed beneath her bare feet, and heavy arms guided her through a door. She was inside now. Inside the world of humans. Trapped, like one of their domesticated beasts.

Wounded. Bound. Hemmed in and useless.

The physical sensation arrived, belated and unwelcome—sticky dampness, spreading over her back.

“Look at that. They do bleed.”

Harsh, guttural, sickening, cruel, wrong.

She did not need to understand his words to know what he saw leaking down her skin. What grisly travesty had been committed against the things that made her who—what—she was.

Further in. The world of stars and fireflies and moonlight—banished by walls of stone.

All she could do was follow.

#moonstone writes #my writing #whump #whump writing #whump story #whumpblr #wing whump #fantasy whump #fairy whump #fae whump #lady whump #tw captivity #tw abduction #tw capture #tw poison #tw restraints #fairy #fae #captured

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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 year

Text

Always Alone

For @whumptober 2022, day 24: blood covered hands

Killan’s masterlist

Follows directly after All the Light is Gone and Monster, Made

CW: Stitches/sewing up skin, trauma response, panic, environmental whump

Killan wakes, bleary and only partially conscious, to a stinging pain along the top of his head, the familiar sense of a needle and thread weaving in and out of his skin. He groans, turning his head away. “… stop…”

A small, long-fingered hand presses sharp talons that prick from cheekbone to jaw and then it back. "Bhei sà, du," A voice hisses in a familiar lilting, lyrical voice.

Killan feels rock under his back, a needle in his skin, and the shadowy sense of a fae leaning over him. For a moment, all he can understand is that Calon Nie must be here, wanting him back again.

His breath catches in his throat, eyes snapping open. Adrenaline sends a wash of cold terror from head to toe, and he sits up in a sudden jerk, shoving away his assailant. The sound that comes from him is twinned, a fae’s whistling shriek and a human’s scream. “Kani, Calon Nie! Nei!”

There's an angry squawk and hiss in response.

Killan's already moving, throwing himself forward and panting as he starts crawling with desperate speed across the room. Something thin keeps hitting him in the forehead, but he can't care about that now. There’s a tunnel ahead, and he can hear water running somewhere clear by. He heads for it.

Water means life, it might head towards the sky.

The sky means escape, from Calon Nie’s terrible ambitions, from the corpses littered around him making his new body for Calon Nie to control until he tires of its imperfections.

Behind him, the sound of pursuit - talons clattering on rock and quick breathing. It only drives him on faster, more desperately.

His wing drags behind him on one side and the pain rises and falls with his breathing, but he keeps going. There's a fork, and he swings left, following the sound of the water.

"Kai! Tarai iis, du!"

It's not the right voice, and it sounds angry, Calon Nie was almost never angry. Irritated, but not angry. Every resistance was only a slight delay, after all, when it came to how Calon Nie saw time.

Killan slows.

Where is he?

He crawls into another opening, this one only just large enough to sit up in, though much wider across. To one side, he can see the rushing water now, glimmering in the darkness to his stolen fae eyes. When he moves to touch it, it isn't cold, but slightly lukewarm. His fingers are smeared with gray wet sludge. When he lifts it to his nose, panting until his breathing slows enough to inhale more deeply, it smells like ash.

"Tarai iis," the voice says again, breathless and slightly raspy. He turns to see her, remembering only then the fae, Siira, and everything that led to this moment.

The flock of birds, the odd dark smoke around the ancient mountain…

The explosion, the way the mountain simply ceased to exist where and how it had before.

"Wh-... What were you doing to me?" He asks, and his voice comes out doubled, hissing fae and lower-pitched, trembling man. "What were you taking from me?"

"Take no thing, me!" She smacks one hand down against the ground. Her wings are puffed again in annoyance, holding something up between her talons. Both her hands are smeared with blood up to her wrists.

His blood.

The familiar sight makes him feel sick, remembering Calon Nie with tiny feathers sticking to the tacky drying blood on his own talons, patting a trembling, sobbing Killan between his reformed, mutilated shoulder blades and cooing praise for his near perfection.

Until he wasn't perfect any longer.

Until Calon Nie decided he should start fresh with other lives taken for his discoveries.

He sees the needle and shoves himself backwards again, landing promptly right in the sludgy running water. "Why? Why?!"

She narrows her eyes, clicking four times in confusion. Her head tips to one side. "Head." She taps the side of her own head. "See big cut, sew it up, me. Almost. You wake. Now…" She shrugs.

"Now…" He reaches up to run fingertips on his human hand over his scalp, when he finds something bumpy and painful. He pulls his hand back to see smears of bright red on the tips of his fingers.

A bit of thick black thread sticks briefly to the blood, then falls back against his hair.

"Need finish, me," Siira says impatiently, beckoning him back to her. "Tarai, du."

Killan swallows, but he moves back out of the water, shivering as a breeze runs over and around him. The smell of ash and smoke is on the wind. They can't be far from a way out. The air smells too fresh, feels too dry and warm not to be from somewhere they can reach.

Siira goes back to work once he's close enough, hissing softly as she threads the needle once again. Killan trembles, forcing himself to stay still as her talons press lightly against his head, sending pain in a wave down through him. He curls his human hand into a fist just to do something.

"Dollmaker use needles much, hm?" She asks, leaning in so closely he can feel her breath moving his hair. "Make many scares, you."

"Yes," He whispers. The needle pricks his skin, and he feels the pull and pressure of a needle pulled through, thread easing the two sides of his sliced scalp together. "I've been… cut open a lot. He gave me… new things."

"Many new things. Seeing, me. New wings. New eyes, you, new hand, new… this." She taps the scar over his throat, making him jump again. "Sssss!” She smacks him. “Be still, you! Not moving!”

Killan closes his eyes, breathing carefully, slow and even. Just like Calon Nie would have told him to, would have made him hold still, freezing his body for the knife, the needle, the magic to remake however he saw fit.

His shaking is getting worse.

There's one rough tug that makes his fae voice squawk in pain, less controlled and more instinctive than the human one, before Siira shifts back, showing him the needle in her bloody hand.

"All done. Help you, me. Help me, you. A good deal. Take to the sky, now. Follow the water, us?"

Killan shudders, trying in vain to shake off the ghosts of his past, and nods. They have to get into the running water and wade against its muddy current, the small, light fae's hands gripped tightly to his waist so she can follow him without getting swept away.

The smell of ash and fire gets stronger, the breeze starts to whip around them, and finally, finally he sees above them an uneven, jagged open place the water is falling through. It looks like when the earth fell apart beneath him, this space opened beneath a creek bed, creating again an underground river that had dried up long, long ago.

Maybe after the last time the mountain erupted.

Beyond it… he might see the trunk of a tree, the suggestion of branches. A star, or maybe he just hopes the sky is still there.

"Here," He says, shifting and holding out his arms. "You climb out, then pull me up."

She eyes him thoughtfully, then nods and clambers right up his back, until her feet dig claws into his shoulders. She stretches out, arms above her, wings closed tightly against her back.

Bracing himself against the water still running around his legs nearly to his thighs, he shoves her upwards, goes up on his toes, and feels the weight of her lift as she catches her talons on the edge and pulls herself out.

There's a pause where he stares upwards, breathing hard.

"Siira?"

No answer.

Then, the sound of talons scrambling over rocks, the heavy beat of wings, a cry of delight in her freedom from the prison under the earth, and she's gone.

She left.

She left him here, alone.

Killan stares, despairing, and then braces himself and jumps. His fingers almost brush against the edge. He grunts with pain as he lands, broken wing shifting, head throbbing.

He tries again and fails.

He tries again.

And again.

It takes another five tries before, just at the end of his energy and ready to give up, he gets just an inch or two higher and the talons on his right hand catch the edge, buying him just enough time to grab with his human hand, too.

His arms ache with the strain. He gulps in a breath as the water roars down over his head, chilled until his muscles lock and freeze. His grip slips and he cries out as he has to throw his arm up again, grappling and feeling his broken wing scrape painfully along the edge as he breaks through and finally lands on his stomach, pebbles digging in, water running all around him.

By the time he manages to drag himself to the riverbank, laying down and staring upwards, he realizes all the trees are gone. He had seen a stump, sure - but…they’re all gone. He sits up in wonder and stares around at the carnage that surrounds him.

There are no trees standing. Just snapped trunks or roots thrown entirely from the earth, piles of shredded branches and trunks on the ground, leaves all long since burnt to ash by the rush of heat that Killan had been hidden from underground.

Being trapped down there, he realizes, had saved his life.

Once he’s out of the river, the ground feels warm, like cobblestone streets after a long and sunny day, despite the darkness and the cool air. There are no stars, clouds roiling thick and dark above him. The air reeks of bitter, acrid smoke, and when he takes too deep a breath, he can taste it on his tongue and coughs until his lungs join the rest of him in aching.

He stands slowly up, turning and looking towards the mountain. There is a bright orange glow in rivulets, like rivers of fire winding down the sides, that’s all.

And the mountain seems… shorter than it was before. Smaller, on one side and at the top. As if aware of his regard, it rumbles, the ground trembling once more under his feet.

Killan backs up, one step turns into two, three, and then that becomes a flat run, winding around the trees and grinding his teeth against all his aches.

The fae in him knows what direction to go, follows unconsciously the earlier flight of the birds. Maybe, he thinks, the mountain will calm once the monster is no longer hiding in her forests. Maybe this was merely to throw him out, to send him fleeing under the softly singing stars. Maybe she felt such loathing for this abomination in her woods that she would destroy all the trees just to rid herself of his contagion.

Maybe even this is all his fault, for being something everything but the stars seem to regard as profane.

Even nature throws him out, unwanted.

So he runs.

Like always, he runs alone.

@quirkykayleetam , @whumpallday , @whumppsychology , @doveotions , @broken-horn-blog, @hackles-up @whumpfigure @whump-only , @just-strawberry-jam , @loopylunacy @raigash @whump-tr0pes @astrobly @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings

For whumptober @whumpworld

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