#angel whumper

[rabbitdrabbles]

[ CW // some blood ]

stomp!

touched up an old WIP from feb 2023 of these two. still not pleased with the final result but it’ll have to do

(in case you didn’t know, secretary birds kill venomous snakes by repeatedly stomping on their heads :)

(taglist: @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question )

[painonthebrain]

Dawn

Whumptober Day 15: Childhood trauma/Moment of clarity

Content: Major character death, gore, child whump, fear of death, demon whump, angelic whumpers, eye whump

As the sun rises, Art watches his parents die in front of him.

He watches as the angelic soldiers ram their spears directly into his parent’s hearts, pin them against the floor by their chests and tear their weapons from their flesh, ripping away layers of gore with it. The blood blends into the shadows, dark, shiny and wet, obscene, washed away by the waves among the shoreline.

He did everything he could to stop them, begging them to spare his mothers, barreling into one of them and desperately trying to fight them off, hissing and spitting. With a swift swing of their spear, they strike him to the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs and turning the vision in one eye red.

Art cries out. A stinging feeling in his eye socket twists, arcing into his skull, both violent and dull. Tears and blood stain his cheeks, slick and damp.

With only one eye, he watches his mother’s blood stain the water and shore, drifting across the coast into the sea in a streaky mess; then his own, dripping onto the ground and creating little ruby-red spatters.

He gasps, desperately holding back a scream, covering his mouth because his breath is too quick and too heavy, even though the crash of the waves across the shore is louder than he is. Eventually, he lets it out, guttural and broken. Flecks of sea spray scatter across his face, and he stares at the sight, unable to tear his eyes away. Shaking, he edges his body behind a large rock, gripping the rough surface with his claws, breathing quick and shallow, trying to hide within the cracks between the rocks.

They’re dead.

They’re really dead.

It finally dawns on him fully, the idea that these lifeless bodies are real and will never breathe or walk or hold him again, the concept of their death turning sharp and real.

He’ll never hear them speak again.

He’ll never feel their touch.

Their faces will fade from his mind and then he’ll have nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The only thing he has left of them now is the oversized coat lined with fur his mother wore — the one she gifted before she died, warning him to hide — and a pendant with one of his ancestor’s teeth around his neck. He twists it around his finger, fighting back tears, his vision going fuzzy from breathing so fast and shallowly.

Footsteps approach him.

No. No no no. Please.

They are clawed talons, and he knows that seeing them means he will die.

Art isn’t ready to die.

He doesn’t remember how it goes — the memory is too jumbled, too frantic, but he runs, he knows that much. He runs and he runs and he runs because if he’s not fast enough, they’ll hunt him down and make him pay for it.

A chance — that’s what had happened. They gave him a chance to live and he took it.

And now he runs, runs, runs, the wind and salt stinging his eyes, stumbling across the rocks and pebbles, fleeing where he used to call home — not home anymore, it never will be — flapping his wings as he runs, not daring to turn back, leaving it all behind.

He has no idea where he should go — only away, away from this place that’s been marred by the sky-dwellers, away from all that it good and right.

He has no idea where he will go now.

[whumpshaped]

could i request a demon whumpee and angel whumper?

like imagine if the whumpee tries to beg for help and tells people what whumper is doing to them but no one believes them because whumper is so perfect and kind!! besides, why would anyone trust a demon?

tw demon whumpee, angel whumper, victim-blaming, failed escape/recapture, starvation

“Please, sir–”

“Get away from me,” the man snarled, and Whumpee pulled their hand back.

“P-please–”

“Get away from me.”

Whumpee swallowed and nodded, taking a couple unsteady steps backwards. Starved as they were, they could barely stand upright, and their injuries were making their whole body ache and throb. They just wanted some help. Any help. A place to hide, a bite to eat… even a compassionate glance.

“Wait a minute– what are you even doing outside?”

“I– I, I’m out on Master’s orders–”

“No, you’re definitely fucking not. I know your master, and they would never let a wretched monster like you back out onto the streets.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened in fear. There was no way they couldn’t even get away with an innocent lie like that. Did the angel really have them all fooled? What had they been saying to these people? “I’m t-telling the truth, sir–”

“Like hell you are. Demons like you do nothing but cause chaos.” He took a step towards them, and Whumpee took a step back. No. No. They were out. They were free. They just needed– they just needed to get away–

“Please, sir,” they tried again, leaning against the wall of the building behind them. “P-please, I’m severely injured, I’m being tortured, sir, please–”

“If you are being tortured, then it’s your own damn fault, demon. Monsters like you deserve nothing but suffering.” The man grabbed them by the arm and started dragging them back to the hell they’d just escaped. “Whumper will cleanse this town of filth like you, and I’m more than happy to assist them.”

[loonybun]

TRICK OR TREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HELLO :3 take a drabble!!

Haunted House

contains: allusion to future harm, power imbalance, threats(?) of torture/captivity, angel/godly/ethereal carewhumper, faerie whumpee, invasion of personal space and sort of manhandling, slightly implied potential g/t / tiny whump but shhhh shhshh runs away, unedited writing because i cooked this up in 20 minutes

————————————

“…You’ve seriously never heard of Halloween?” Rosé stared at him incredulously, as if he’d just witnessed some sort of horrendous crime.

Aisling blinked back, stiffening up on the velvet couch. “—Well… I’ve heard of it, I just don’t know what it is. You know I can’t really spend as much time as I want to out here.” He murmured, keeping his eyes trained down at the floor.

The angel snatched up his arm and yanked him towards him with a grin. “You know, I think you’d like it a lot. I haven’t celebrated it in ages… But maybe I should do a little something. Oh! What about a haunted house?”

“..A what?” He winced, trying to ignore the pain in his arm as Rosé’s nails dug into skin.

“Like… You know, a haunted house. You could be an actor! Oh, you’d make a lovely actor.”

“I— I don’t quite know how that would work— You know I can’t exactly lie.”

Rosé paused at this for a moment, then snapped his fingers and grinned once more. “Then I’ll make sure it’s not a lie. It’ll be more authentic that way! What do you think? I could stuff you into a cage or something and hang you up. Maybe by the wings.”

Aisling pulled away, brushing his arm off and quickly shielding it with his other. “I… I don’t think I’d—“

“Joking. I was joking. About that last part, anyways. Geez, you think I’d actually torture you? Is that seriously what you think of me? And after all I’ve done for you…” Rosé put on a wounded expression, then giggled. “…Ohh, but I’m sure we could find some loopholes. I’m still tempted by that cage idea… If I were to keep you here long enough, do you think that would add more or less to the effect? I mean, if it was genuinely interactive, I wouldn’t want anyone to be able to actually hurt you… Especially in such a delicate state.”

“…Rosé, that’s not funny.”

He gave him an amused look, then set a finger under his chin, tilting his face to the side. “Oh, that part wasn’t a joke. You’d be a good interactive element. A part of the performance… And they wouldn’t even realize that you aren’t acting. It’s a twisted idea, right?”

“Please stop.” He begged, tears forming in his eyes.

The pressure under his face automatically released, and the atmosphere of the room seemed to lessen it’s intensity. Rosé stared at him, face unreadable.

“…Alright, maybe not. Can’t have some idiot squeezing you to death or something. But you’d be fine with the rest, right? It’d be like a little mission to rescue you or something— nothing that would cause any real harm to you.” He sighed, keeping some distance between himself and the faerie.

“I… Well…” Aisling considered it for a long moment. “…Sure. Just… Promise me you won’t keep me long enough for… You know.”

Rosé smiled gently, an oddly genuine expression from him.

“I promise.”

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Day 23 - (ALT PROMPT) Lab Rat

SHOUTOUT TO @sunshiline-writes FOR INSPIRING THIS HAHAHA!! This happens in the risen demon au bc I say Manuel deserves more pain and Daniel deserves to have a good time.

Pinglist (oops I so forgot to do this the last few ones!!): @ailesswhumptober, @whumperofworlds, @whump-captain, @whumpbees

Tws: lab whump, HEAVY gore, drugging, kidnapping, vivisection

Searing, impossible pain woke Manuel. Something was hurting his wing, digging into the flesh. It was almost like the worst bug bite he'd ever felt. Groaning, he tilted his head and realized that whatever he'd fallen asleep on was really hard.

Had he gotten drunk and passed out in the kitchen?

A lilting voice drifted through the air as Manuel groaned. "Oh, little demon, are you awake?" He didn't recognize that voice.

Red eyes met Manuel's when he finally peeled back his eyelids. The blond man above him smelled like holy magic--an angel. When he tried to rub at his eyes, his wrist couldn't move--he was tied down to a steel table with leather straps.

"Who...?" Manuel realized that it was almost impossibly hard to focus or talk.

"Oh, it doesn't matter." Long, pale fingers patted Manuel's face, the contact making him whine. "I won't keep you for very long, I know your ilk wouldn't take well to that. I do rather like existing." The angel laughed, waving one his other, scalpel-wielding hand in the air.

Manuel's eyes widened as he realized the metal was bloody. He followed where the angel's eyes drifted to, eyes landing on his own massive, feathery wing, also forced open with restraints. The skin had been peeled back and pinned open. The muscles twitched and tried to flex. He could see his own tendons. The stark white of bone peeked out, here and there.

Manuel felt his stomach roll. "What...?" He tried, swallowing hard as searching, relentless fingers dug into the exposed flesh. Fire raced up his wing, pulling a wavering groan from Manuel. "Why...?"

"Because I've only heard rumors of risen demons existing." Manuel's captor said, tugging on a tendon to see how the rest of the wing moved. "I need to learn all I can about you while you're here."

Manuel tried to call his magic forward, he felt the ghosts of sparks at his teeth. The terrible, too-tall angel laughed again, reaching towards a silver tray for a vial and syringe. He pressed the bloody needle into the vial and withdrew a fluid. "And I also need to ensure that you don't remember a thing. Now, just lie still. I want to examine your internal organs before I turn you loose again."

The needle pressed into Manuel's arm and he felt the burn of medication rush through him. "Now," He cooed as the lights began to blur, smiling as Manuel's eyes started to droop. "Sleep. You won't remember a thing."

[blackberry-bloody]

“Why were you out late last night?” Dayzel cautiously asked his husband.

“I wasn't?” Nox raised a curious eyebrow and tilted his head, looking at Dayzel quizzically.

“Yes you were?” Dayzel, now also confused, pressed. “Remember? You asked me to clean the house before you left, then you were gone until like-  three in the morning.” He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I waited up for you too!”

Nox walked over, concern in his eyes. “Honey, I came home at 10, and you were already asleep.”

Dayzel paused. The concern in his husband’s eyes and the solid assurance in his voice made him falter. “What? I thought - I thought I stayed up… I could've sworn I did.”

Nox put a hand on his husband's shoulder. “Dayzel, you must've dreamt that you stayed up.”

Dayzel's arms fell to his sides. “But it felt so real.”

“I know it did. But it was just a dream.” Nox kissed the top of Dayzel's head and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Just a dream…” Dayzel repeated under his breath

@emmettland @befuddled-calico-whump

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumper considered themselves to be a very merciful angel, one that would follow all of the rules and would hold humans to their standards- but their standards were far too high for mortals. The whumper would punish humans that they saw as deserving of pain, and the whumpee was their latest victim. The whumper would be merciless, sometimes going too far as they overestimated how much damage a mortal could take, and the whumper would be forced to heal the whumpee, which the whumper saw as something the whumpee didn’t even deserve.

[whumpwillow]

Demon's Haven 14

💥Flashback chapter💥

he isn't the most powerful demon, he just likes to think he is (or he did...)

—  

masterlist

warnings: blood, torture, past whipping, partial nudity (he's just not wearing a shirt), weird thoughts on purity and sin that isn't specifically mentioned as religion but pretty close, light gore (not described much), clawing at own throat, scratching

—

The angel came back.

Envy had spent an uncomfortable amount of time in these blasted chains, which left his arms without feeling from the position he found himself trapped in. The holy water used to clean his wounds had dried, but the sting hadn’t dissipated. Like the aftereffects of eating overly spicy food, it lingered on after the original offender was gone. He’d suffered through what he thought must have been a day and a night before the angel returned, brightly burning in her righteousness.

Maybe if he begged her to wash the holy water off, she’d listen. He was disgusted with himself for the thought.

The angel stepped inside the cell with the same damned crystal bowl as yesterday, or the day before, or whenever his last torture session had been. It irked him not to be able to tell the time, but he knew he had more pressing concerns.

“I’m still clean,” he said by way of greeting. “Didn’t get up to any trouble, don’t need a bath.”

He waggled his eyebrows in a way that he hoped was condescending. The smile he plastered on his face was a forced effort; he didn’t want the angel to catch how scared he was. Knowing the bite of holy water on his skin and in his open wounds did nothing to diminish his fear of it. If anything, it made it worse. He clenched his hands into fists to keep them from shaking and rattling the chains.

“This is for that mouth of yours,” the angel intoned.

She didn’t look at him, only set down the bowl on a small wooden table that looked to be not a table at all but a giant wooden spool turned on its side. It came up to her hips. She set a white cloth into the water and pressed down, letting it soak up what would surely be Envy’s future pain.

He tried again. “I’m sure I can think of better uses for it, if you give me a chance.”

His voice shook a little on the delivery and he cursed himself for it. The angel wrung out her pristine cloth and Envy watched every single drop of water that came from it fall back into bowl, sending ripples across the surface.

“I need to fix that attitude of yours. Then you be made pure.”

The angel spoke with perfectly even intonation, not a drop of cadence out of place or showing any emotion at all. She strode over to him and stood directly in front this time, rather than moving behind him where the lashes where. At least he wouldn’t be going through that again, though he was sure whatever else she had planned for him was equally as terrible. He hated the anticipation. The unknowing.

Envy tried a different tactic, seeing his options wearing thin and time running out. Water dripped from in between the angels slim fingers. It mixed with his blood on the floor.

“Listen here you little bitch, when I get out of here, I’m going to rip you to fucking shreds. You hear me? I’m the most powerful demon there is, I could compel you to—”

The angel slapped the cloth to his neck. It was so sudden that it cut off the entire tirade he’d constructed in his head and all he could manage was a weak gurgle as the holy water ate through the fragile skin at his throat. He gasped, and the motion alone was enough to bring tears to his eyes. No. He would not cry again. No.

The angel wrapped the cloth around his neck and smoothed it out, then stepped away to admire her work.

“Hck—”

Envy opened his mouth, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t even scream. The holy water ate through the skin at his throat and into the tissue and muscle. He didn’t know where the water started and where the blood began, where he started and where the pain ended. The pain never ended. Tears streamed down his face, and those, at least, washed some of it away.

It burned it burned it burned.

“Ple—ack—ples!” he yelled, coughing in the middle.

The angel watched him impassively. Envy thrashed in his chains, trying in vain to move his arms down to rip the offending cloth off his skin and only succeeding in bloodying them more than he already had.

After what seemed like an eternity, the angel made a satisfied “hm” and took him down from the chains. Envy fell to the ground in a pathetic heap, his limbs not strong enough to support him under the weight of his pain. He wrenched the cloth from his throat and lunged, a feral gleam in his eyes.

He was free he could kill her he could compel her—

The angel kicked him in the face, one shiny shoe connecting with his nose and Envy was back on the floor. A sickening crack reverberated through his skull and lights flashed in the darkness behind his eyes, bright and twinkling like stars. He cried out and raised his hands to his nose. Blood already began to seep from in between them.

The angel put a foot on his chest to keep him down, and he would have been indignant about it if he weren’t so fixated on the bowl in her hands. She poured the remaining holy water over his exposed throat and he screamed. He bucked under her hold, his back arching fruitlessly under her heel, but the angel stayed in place regardless of his efforts. Envy’s hands went from his face to his neck. Fingers scratching, tearing, clawing desperately at the skin to try and remove the source of the pain but there was none he could grasp.

He made a loud keening sound like that of a dying animal, half-gurgle and half scream. Fog filled his vision while a wretched smell invaded his nostrils. He realized it was him—the smell and smoke of his flesh being burned away. He rolled on the ground, ripping up the wounds on his back, grasping at his damaged throat.

He didn’t even realize the angel had already left. When he finally did, he spat weakly on the floor, wishing that it was enough to say he still had the upper hand. He knew that he’d never had it to begin with.

—

next

(taglist in reblogs)

[whumpshaped]

A winged whumpee chained or otherwise helpless and exposed, begging a whumper not to rip off their wings, either being ignored or indulged, at the cost of something else they value as much as their wings. Maybe their sight? Or they keep their wings but they're mangled? Idk

🐐

prev masterlist

tw gore, wing whump, angel whumpee, angel whumper, dismemberment, thought manipulation, conditioning, religious themes

"Please, no! Please, forgive me, I did not know it was forbidden!" Cassael pulled on the chains one single time before they decided not to struggle, hoping that their show of submission would earn them some mercy.

"Silence." The other angel gave them a heavy enough look to make them shrink in on themself, weighed down by the judgement they saw in their eyes. "You will talk only when I allow it until your punishment is over. You will take it with gratitude and grace, as you ought to."

Cassael had trouble feeling grateful for the corrections lately. Their mentors seemed agitated and easily angered, or maybe they had been extra clumsy; either way, they felt like their mistakes didn't warrant such severe abuse. But they had to be wrong. They had to. They were the problem here, they couldn't assess the situation well enough, they couldn't even feel right. They were nothing but a broken thing in need of fixing. They had to be grateful for that.

After all, broken things were useless, and useless things were thrown away. They had to be grateful to be given another chance. To be fixed and allowed to continue their work.

"Spread your wings, Cassael."

They did so without any objections. The punishments targeting their wings were always the worst. Setting the feathers on fire, throwing them in water until they were waterlogged and dragging them to the bottom, even just having to keep them spread for long amounts of time was agony. They weren't meant to be constantly spread out like that.

"You have flown over forbidden land. Your punishment is to cease flying altogether until your wings grow back."

Grow back? But–

Their back exploded with pain as the angel tore out their left wing, grabbing it closest to their body to make sure that the entire thing came away with one fluid motion. Cassael screamed and thrashed, the agony utterly unbearable, the feeling of blood trickling down their back making them sick.

"Stop! Stop! Please! I am so sorry, it was my fault, it was my fault! It will not happen again!"

"Such disrespect," the angel whispered. "I have told you to stay quiet and take it with gratitude."

"I am thankful for your guidance! Please, please do not rip out my other wing! Please! I have learned my lesson, I cannot fly with one wing!"

"You have not learned your lesson, clearly." The angel grabbed onto the base of their right wing, squeezing painfully hard. "I said quiet."

The shriek they let out at their other wing being severed was entirely out ot their control. The other angel seemed to think that they were able to disregard such intense pain in favour of a command, and maybe other angels were capable of that. Maybe they were the only one with a defect that didn't allow them to shut out the pain.

"This will do," they said, satisfied with their work. Cassael could do little else than stare in front of themself, bloody and exhausted, letting their body sag against the restraints. They could hear the blood gathering on the cloud below, if it hadn't eagerly drank it up. "You will stay here and reflect. You will not talk to anyone but me, and only after I give the word."

Cassael silently nodded. They had no reason to try to defy the angel now. Their wings were gone, their beatiful, pure–

The angel placed a hand on their head, and suddenly it felt like all the thoughts were sucked out of it. Only one emotion remained: the overwhelming guilt.

"This should help you stay on topic."

next

~

taglist: @the-scrapegoat @heavenly-whumper @whumpsday

[dokidokisadness]

looks like kotaru is having some trouble keeping aziphem awake...

thank you for the amazing commission @demondamage! Hope you liked it!

[rabbitdrabbles]

new whump OCs— a secretary bird and a puff adder

the animal kingdom has such immense potential for whump inspiration, let me tell you…

I haven’t figured out a story for them yet, if there will be any, but I think I will definitely keep these guys around <3 any suggestions on what to do with them are very welcome!

(initial / non-simplified character designs below:)

[snaillamp]

Chapter 7 - Grim News

Nathaniel quickly settled into his new routines. He assisted Father Mark- Mark with his priestly duties, attending the Masses and even beginning to run them. The sweet old grannies at the church had taken a liking to him very quickly and he was pleased, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but think about what they would say if they knew what he-

Mark was a strange guy too. He was a massive nerd, DVD’s of all the cult classic movies lining a bookshelf near the TV, cluttered among Bibles and even other holy texts. Nathaniel spotted a Quran, books about Hinduism, Buddism, Taoism, local Cree culture, and even a Kama Sutra. Nathaniel had snorted loudly when he’d seen that.

Mark seemed well read and intelligent though, Nathaniel catching him Googling injuries and natural or ancient treatment options for rare infections. Nathaniel just assumed the older priest liked that stuff, almost compulsively researching it and reading it with interest.

He was a nice guy though, couldn’t cook to save his life, but was a funny guy to chat to over tea. Mark had even asked Nathaniel to help him with the gardens around the church, one filled with beautiful, well kept roses and small community garden behind the rectory that anyone could take from, no questions asked.

Nathaniel liked him, he decided, as he got up for a drink one night. Mark was everything a priest should be, truly living like Jesus. He didn't own many things and would clearly give the shirt off his back to anyone who needed it. He did not judge and was kind. But if Mark found out about Nathaniel's sin...

Nathaniel shook his head. He was a man of the cloth now, he didn't have time to think about the sinful things his mind tempted him with, let alone worry if other people had figured it out yet.

Father Mark was a bit weird of a weird guy though, Nathaniel eventually figured out. He insisted on doing the laundry, not letting Nathaniel go anywhere near the basement door. Nathaniel had managed to crack it open at one point, but he couldn’t see anything in the dark and the gentle whirring of the dryer prevented him hearing anything inside.

That was until tonight. As Nathaniel got up, waddling in the dark to the kitchen sleepily, he sighed. His mind remembered the guy... That mysterious, very attractive guy who had scared away the ghost. But it had been a dream, he had obviously been still half asleep when he’d dropped the glass. There were no tall, dark, mysterious, hot men in the rectory and definitely no ghosts. He was just imagining things.

Sighing, he filled the glass, slightly wishing the man had been real, listening to the silence of the night, the faint chirping of crickets and even a loon, until a faint sound emerged from the basement. It sounded like a sick, uncomfortable groan. Nathaniel crept towards the door, listening intently, but heard nothing else.

Probably just the house settling. It was an old rectory, and buildings this old creak and groan all the time, right?

‘Right.’ Nathaniel nodded firmly, finishing the glass and placing it in the sink. ‘It’s just the house... It’s just the house.’

~~

Early on Sunday morning, Mark crept down the hall. He couldn’t sleep, so he had stayed up all night researching infected wounds again. It had been two weeks since the demon had been moved to the basement and Keh-yah wasn’t improving, if anything he was getting worse. Nothing looked good.

When he reached the basement door, Mark grabbed the handle and took a breath, before opening it. Inside it was dark, no light from anywhere getting in. He could barely make out the frame of the bed as he stepped down into the darkness, arm searching for the light switch. Keh-yah’s ragged breathing made his stomach drop as he switched it on.

Keh-yah looked awful. Rushing down the steps, Mark ran to his side and ripping the sheets back he checked the wounds again. They looked worse than before.

“No… no, no, no, no, no…” Mark whispered as he began peeling back dressings. The wounds looked bad, black and full of sludgy, green pus. He began ripping off clothes in an attempt to get to all the wounds, scuffling around as he did. Keh-yah remained limp, his chest rising and falling with great effort. He groaned a little as he was exposed to the colder basement air, turning his head and sighing. “Keh-yah?” Mark leaned over him, speaking loud as he shook the demon. “Keh-yah?”

“Mark?”

Mark froze at the sound of Nathaniel, a chill running down his spine. He hadn’t realised he had left the basement door open. “What are doing?” Nathaniel asked, sleepily as he rubbed his eyes. “It’s 6 am, why are you yelling so louuuu…” Nathaniel stopped rubbing as he focused on the scene below him, the basement light bathing the room in a dull, yellow glow.

His face said it all.

“Father Mark...? What are doing?” He asked, quiet, serious, voice growing suspicious as he stepped down into the basement. Mark stood with his back to the young priest, leaning over the bed to cover the demon as best he could. “Nothing.” He replied quickly, turning to face the young priest. ‘You idiot Mark, why did you say that? It’s clearly not nothing!’ He thought, mentally kicking himself.

“Father… That’s not nothing… Wait, is-is that a person?!” Nathaniel’s voice heightened in confusion as he got closer, glimpsing Keh-yah. The young priest approached the bed, looking down at Keh-yah, who moaned slightly. “He’s sick?! He should be in a hospital not in your damn baseme-”

“I can’t!” Mark yelled, sweat pouring from his brow. ‘Fuck. My cover’s blown. Shit. Fuck. Shit… Fuck…’

“I can’t take him to a hospital!”

Nathaniel looked at him like he was crazy. “Why not? Mark, this… this is insane! You can’t lock a guy up in your basement, especially when he’s hurt! He needs a hospital! I need to call the police.” Nathaniel turned to leave but Mark grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “Mark. Let me go.” Nathaniel spoke, his voice wavering slightly.

“I can’t take him to a hospital… because he’s not a human…” Mark spoke slowly, watching as Nathaniel scowled, shaking his head. “Uh, yeah he is. Look at him, he’s…” Nathaniel stopped as Keh-yah groaned, opening his eyes.

“What the… why is… I- I… What?” Nathaniel stuttered as he took a step back. Mark raised his hands and tried to reason with the priest. “Nathaniel, this is Keh-yah and he’s a… demon... And he’s hurt, badly… Annnnnd I’m looking after him.” Mark grew quieter and quieter as he spoke aloud the words that suddendly made this feel more real.

Nathaniel’s brow creased. “Yeah, well you’re great job!” He snapped back, gesturing his hand at Keh-yah who looked around, delirious.

“What’s going on…?” Keh-yah breathed sleepily, black eyes seeming to fix onto Mark and Nathaniel. “Why are therrrre… two... of you?” His speech stirred a little as he tired to sit up, before wincing and laying back down. “What’s happening…?” He whispered, eyes sliding shut.

As he passed out, he whispered a words in the strange language, the same one he spoke last time. “What’s happened? Is he okay?” Nathaniel stepped forward, suddenly concerned for the creature.

“He’s passed out, I think he’s gone septic. I was so focused on his chest wound that I forgot about the others and… maybe the water weakened his immune system… He threw up a lot…” Nathaniel wasn’t listening as Mark talked to himself, instead he was counting the fingers on Keh-yah’s had and taking in the wounds. “He needs antibiotics or something.” Keh-yah mumbled something in his sleep, turning his head again, his chest rising and falling with shaky breaths.

“Last time I gave him human medicine he had a seizure.” Nathaniel looked at Mark, confused. “Last time?! How long have you been looking after him?!”

Mark looked back at the demon, sighing. “Almost 4 and a half weeks now… He was getting so much better too, I don’t know what happened.” Running his hand over his balding head, Mark sighed, pacing the room. “I don’t know else to do. You’re right, he needs antibiotics, but how do we get them? We can’t take him to a hospital, and even then, what if they don’t work? ”

He rubbed his face as he thought, the stress making him feel even more confused. “What about antiseptic?” Nathaniel suggested. “Tried that. Didn’t do much.” Mark’s thoughts went to the holy water.

If it cured the cursed infection… He began running up the stairs, leaving a confused Nathanial behind. “Where are you going!?” He called out, Mark turning his head as he replied, “Holy water! It worked to clear an infection before… I can only hope it works now.”

When Mark returned, Nathaniel was looking skeptical. “I mean, I believe in the power of God, but this feels a little asinine, Father.” Mark shot him a look as he poured the water into a bowl. Keh-yah seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, moaning deliriously. “Sorry, buddy… This is gonna suck.”

Dipping a cloth in the water, Mark pressed it into a wound. Keh-yah shot up, hissing and flashing his forked tongue as he writhed in pain. Nathaniel’s eyes grew wide as he took a step back, his hand grasping his chest. Keh-yah slumped forward, panting, as Mark tended to his wounds ever more, his shaking shoulders rising and falling as he swallowed the pain.

After many tense minutes, the wounds on his torso and arms were clean, and Mark sat on the bed as he did the demon’s legs. Keh-yah would wince and twitch occasionally, but he was holding it in well, even though Mark knew it would feel like acid on his skin. Keh-yah squeezed the sheets of the bed, his fingers digging into the mattress every time the water touched his skin, grinding his teeth loudly through soft moans.

“Hey, scream if you need.” Mark encouraged, looking into Keh-yah’s strange, black eyes. “It makes it hurt less, trust me.”

All Keh-yah heard the priest tell him to scream. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing him submit to the pain… ‘They aren’t them… They aren’t them…’ He reasoned, and allowed a small gasp slipped from his lips, his stomach rippling as the pain streaked through him again. A low, quiet groan turned into a louder one, before a loud, gut wrenching scream reverbarated through the basement, shocking even Nathaniel and Mark.

Arching his back, he pushed his shoulders into the bed as tears began to fall, all the pent up pain inside him suddenly spilling out between in gasping breaths. After a few more screams, he had run out of breath, his throat raw as he gasped, before finally his eyes rolled back and his muscles relaxed. The last thing he heard was a strange buzz as he passed out.

“He’s passing out!” Nathaniel called out as Keh-yah’s crushing grip loosened from the sheets “Let him go, the water usually does that. It hurts him, real bad, like acid.” Mark murmured as he finished up. “I’m nearly done anyway, just clearing up the last couple wounds…” He sighed, sitting back and glancing at Nathaniel who was standing by the bed, pale and shocked.

Mark met his eyes, “So, uh…”

Nathaniel shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t even know what to say… That was… terrifying. He’s terrifying…” He pointed a shaking finger at Keh-yah, before he sat on the basement floor, running his hands through his hair. Mark shuffled over to him, sitting beside him and wrapping his arm around his shaking shoulders.

“Keh-yah turned up on my doorstep, inches from death. I chose to look after him, but I need to keep him secret... To keep him safe. If the church finds out, I’m harbouring a demon…” Nathaniel nodded, unsure of what to say. His mind was racing as he tried to comprehend what he had just seen.

Then it hit him…

“Wait...” He breathed, “I saw him one night. He scared a man in the kitchen away. I dropped a glass and broke it… I thought it was all a weird dream…” He looked up as Keh-yah moaned softly, coming to his senses.

“Quicker than last time.” Mark muttered as he rose and went to the demon’s side. “Hey, how you feeling?” Keh-yah managed to make a quiet, strangled sounding groan, before pushing up on his elbows. His whole body was shaking as he tried to stay up.

Mark helped him, sitting him up, noticing how much he was trembling. “Did you want some clothes? Warm up?” Keh-yah’s cheeks were still flushed as he shook his head dejectedly, bringing a palm to his forehead. “Did you want anything? Food? Drink?” Another head shake, he whispered something. Mark leaned in closer to catch the rasping voice that caught in awkward places. “Bl-hu-ud…” Mark frowned, looking concerned. “I don’t know what you mean… Blood? I don’t have any blood…”

Mark repeated the phrase over and over… His mind drifting to how effective the holy water had been… “Wait… WAIT!” He exclaimed, rushing from the basement.

~~

Nathaniel sat alone, staring at the demon from his spot on the floor. He traced every strained muscle and scar on his body with his eyes, taking in the creature’s body. He felt a slight, warm tingle in his chest.

“Whaddryou starin… ad…?” Keh-yah mumbled, side eyeing him.

“Sorry.” Nathaniel inched away a little, looking at the floor. He was scared of this creature, Keh-yah intimidated him and he couldn’t wrap his head around any of this.

Keh-yah certainly wasn’t what he thought a demon would look like.

Mark returned with the sacraments, the Body and Blood of Christ. Sitting by Keh-yah who looked up at him with a sigh, Mark grimacing. “Try this…”

The demon nodded, and Mark handed him the small circular bread and a cup. Keh-yah swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting with a slouch. Raising the bread to his mouth, he bit into it.

Mark and Nathaniel stifled a gasp as blood pooled out from the bread. Keh-yah smirked a little, before he licked it off with his snake like tongue, then ate it whole. He took a sip of the wine ignoring this strange sound it made, as if it were screaming, the metallic scent of blood filling the room. He ate and drank silently, savouring the divine taste of the thick blood washing through his body. It felt like he was being infused with life itself.

Blood, the most sacred of food for a demon and he was tasting it, pure, thick, warm blood for the first time in years, decades...

When he had finished, he collapsed back into the bed with a blissful moan, the sensation of every nerve in his body firing at once as he sighed, satisfied. A contented hum filled his chest as he purred with pleasure, his mind going fuzzy as he enjoyed the waves of pure ecstasy washing over him.

He felt more alive in this moment than he had in a long time, a warm buzz filling his body as he smiled, dazed and drunk on literal life.

As the pleasant buzzing, warmness faded, Keh-yah came back to himself, blinking as Mark leaned over his face. “Hey, you okay? I think we lost you there for a second… what happened?” He sounded concerned.

“It’s fine…” Keh-yah whispered, his tongue felt thick and rough, like sandpaper. “I just… I haven’t felt joy in a very long time.” Sitting, he smiling drunkenly, tired, but with more colour in his face. His pale, ghostly skin seemed to be going a more human skin colour, a light brown.

He looked more radiant as he stared at the priests, before sighing. “You two go about your day. I need to rest while I’m comfortable. This will wear off soon and I want to be asleep when it does.” The demon mumbled as he lay down slowly, sighing. The priests both nodded, leaving the basement. Nathaniel’s mind was reeling, but a tiny part of him was excited the demon was real... And an even tinier part of his mind was already imagining... Nathaniel shook the thought from his mind. He shouldn't be thinking about men, demons or sick male demons like that.

It. Was. A. Sin.

~~

Keh-yah’s eyes opened slowly as he glanced around. In a moment of panic, he thought he was back in the cell. He jumped up, scrambling for the door, his legs hardly able to climb the stairs as he burst up into the light of the main rectory, collapsing to his knees and panting as he shook in fear.

The tips of Mark’s shoes appeared in his vision and he felt his body being lifted up and walked to the lounge room. Keh-yah was laid back against the soft cushions as he tried to slow his breathing, his mind slowing down as the world stopped spinning. He realised his chest was heaving, so he placed a hand on it to calm it down. Once he caught his breath, he leaned forward and hung his head, resting his elbows on his knees as he let out a final, shuddering breath.

The three of them sat in silence, as Keh-yah leaned back against the sofa. He groaned, rubbing his face, before looking to the two priests. Nathaniel was staring at him, but Mark was watching him with concern.

“What?” Keh-yah spat, embarrassed. “You were sleeping for hours, and then you burst through the basement door having a panic attack, I’m concerned about you Keh-yah.” Mark spoke calmly and firmly, coming to sit beside the demon, making him flinch. Keh-yah glared at the wall in front of him and bared his teeth, the memories flashing through his mind. “You don’t have to right now, but I think you should tell me what happened to you… Maybe I can help?” A dark look crossed Keh-yah’s face.

“You can’t help me.” He whispered, shaking his head.

“No one can.”

~~

It had been three days since the panic attack, and Keh-yah had spent it pacing around the house all day and all night. He hadn’t slept, only sitting down when Mark forced him over to the sofa to treat his wounds. He hadn’t eaten anything, not even sacraments for days and it was starting to hinder his healing.

So, after changing Keh-yah’s dressings, Mark had decided to be a little more absolute, guiding the demon to the table before he could stalk off, despite Keh-yah's complaints. Once he brought the demon over, he sat the sick creature in front of a large, raw chicken wing.

But didn’t work, he hadn't touched it.

Keh-yah’s tired eyes had met Mark’s, his fangs shining as he bared them slightly. His body was shaking a little, and he looked gaunt, weak and sick.

“You won’t get better if you don’t eat.” Mark remarked flatly, taking a bite of his own food. He sounded like he was telling a toddler if they didn’t eat dinner they wouldn’t get desert.

Keh-yah exhaled sharply, letting Mark fully know his displeasure, but began slowly picked at the wing in silence. He was a very quiet creature, but the fact he ate without so much as a sound was slightly unnerving. He began picking at the the small chunks of meat on the raw chicken wing, before yanking off a bone, snapping it in half with his teeth, and beginning to crunch. He put the other half back on his plate, looking at Mark, who seemed less than pleased.

“You done?” Mark asked, sounding unimpressed.

Sighing, Mark sat back, “If you don’t want to eat, you can leave, you know. I’ll keep the food for later if you want it.” ‘Lord, give me strength. He’s acting like a teenager… I don’t know what to do.’ Mark prayed, his mind wandering.

Keh-yah was silent for a moment, looking at his lap, mumbling something. “What?” Mark asked, frowning. “I can’t…” Keh-yah mumbled again, slightly louder this lime. Nathaniel looked over at him, sensing the building rage. “What do you mean you… can’t? His timid voice wavered as the demon’s eyes flicked to him.

“I can’t… stand…” He whispered, pushing his plate weakly from in front of him, and placing his arms on the table, pressing his face into them.

Mark got up, concerned and made his way over to Keh-yah, touching his shoulder and causing him to flinch back. He toppled from the chair and fell to the ground with a grunt. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he whined before collapsing into the floor. He moved his legs weakly, trying to claw his way to the sofa, but was too weak to even do that. Mark wrapped his arms around Keh-yah’s waist, pulling him to his feet and slinging his arm over his shoulders. He helped the demon walk on extremely shaky legs to the sofa, laying him down on it.

“What’s wrong Keh-yah? Tell me.” He wasn’t asking this time.

“Long term exposure… to holy water…” the demon whispered, looking pale as cold sweats broke out on his forehead. “It’s weakening me more... I lost my appetite yesterday... Eating’s gonna make me...” Keh-yah shuddered, holding back a gag.

Mark murmured a prayer, placing a hand on Keh-yah’s chest and feeling the bounding heart rate. Keh-yah, however, was not enjoying how handsy Mark was being. Shrugging him off, he rolled and faced his back to the priest, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Keh-y-”

“-Just stop it Mark… Please. I just want to be alone right now.” Keh-yah interrupted weakly. Groaning, Mark bit back. “You’re wasting away Keh-yah! Let me help you, please.” Taking a breath, Mark realised he was raising his voice when he saw Keh-yah curl in on himself, shuddering.

He didn’t get why he was so frustrated with the demon. It’s not like he had ever been friendly to him. He was either unconscious or snapping at him, though Mark sensed Keh-yah was at least giving him the demon version of respect, despite the rude comments.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just stressed and worried about you. Something has you all spooked and you’re driving yourself up the wall.” He glanced at Nathaniel, sitting at the dinner table. “Us too, all this pacing around all night. I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

Keh-yah’s body sagged as he sighed, before he rolled slowly and stiffly onto his back, his voice dejected and weak. “Well, I’m not. So, there’s your answer.” His eyes moved in their sockets, glinting as Mark met them with his own, stern stare. The demon whispered a strange phrase, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I suppose I do owe you an explanation.”

Keh-yah sat up slowly. Mark wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and Keh-yah’s mind travelled back as he recounted night of his capture.

~~

Siberia, USSR, 1948.

Keh-yah stood from the grass, black cloak sodden from the rain. At least he was covered by the haze of the mist. His body was cold and but he didn’t shiver as he trudged through the mud, the rain quickly turning to sleet as he walked. He was a demon, cold did not affect him like a human. He was not human at all.

He was much more powerful, faster and stronger, he healed faster, his hearing and smell was better. He was invincible. Mostly... At his full strength, like now, he was practically invincible, but he had to maintain it to be able to keep going. Everything had a weakness, and this was his.

Keh-yah could sense something following him. Quietly, he sank to his knees, his form melting to reveal his true body, fangs, black eyes and all. If he was going to fight, he was going to use all his power.

“I’m done running.” He growled under his breath. He gripped the hilt of his sword as he unsheathed it, the iridescent, glass like blade almost invisible in the rain. Calming his breaths, he looked at the large, round, humanoid shape appearing in the sleet. “Of course they sent a golem.” He sneered, eyes narrowing as the grey shape materialised more and more. It was about 8 feet tall, with tough, leather like skin and two, glowing, pinprick eyes. Golem were blinder than anything but could smell anything they wanted to track, and that thing... was currently Keh-yah.

Silently, Keh-yah readied himself, waiting as the golem stepped into his striking range. With a few expert slashes, the creature’s guts spilled into the mud and it fell forward with a grunt. The thick, black blood of the creature spurted out, covering the cloak and weighing it down anymore. Shedding it, Keh-yah shook his head. “What a waste of a noble creature. But it will take more than you to take me down.” He whispered to the corpse as the spirit pulled itself away from the body and faded into the rain.

Frowning, Keh-yah turned, sensing more creatures in the sleet. He glanced around as, coming from all directions he was surrounded. “Great, I was looking for some harder competition.” He felt the familiar sensation gravity falling in on itself as he teleported from the center of the circle to the edge, taking out a few armoured soldiers, then popping to the other side of it, taking out more. He couldn’t keep teleporting, it would take up too much energy, but he could still fight all these Angels.

There were about 20 left, and Keh-yah knew he could take them. He readied his sword, panting slightly, watching as the soldiers began to attack. His body moved fluidly as he wove his way through them, droplets of blood flying into the air and scattering across his face. He felt to warmth of his powers fill him as he danced around the soldiers, impaling and slashing them with ease.

Soon he stood in the sleet, exposed in only his thin armour, blood and water droplets racing down his face as he panted. His shoulders rose and fell as small wisps of steam curled up from his warm body. He smirked slightly, trust the Angels to send their general soldiers to kill him. They were beyond easy to defeat, like a hot knife through butter.

“Poor souls.” He muttered under his breath staring at the bodies surrounding him. A chill rushed down his spine at that very moment…

More soldiers, but these, they were not any soldiers, these were the elite of the elite.

The Sacred Guard.

Looking up, Keh-yah grinned wickedly. “Finally, some excitement!” He called out the the silhouettes, looking to rile them up.

It worked.

Without warning a large Angel appeared behind him, Keh-yah only just managing to block the oncoming sword. Twisting out of the way, he laughed, his voice echoing around the Angels, “You came looking for a fight?!” before appearing behind the large soldier. “Well you just got one.” He murmured before running his sword clean through their back. The soldier crumpled. “Who’s next?” He snarled, readying his sword, still dripping with blood.

He fought off oncoming attacks for minutes, fighting the Sacred Guard until a sword came swinging out of nowhere. Blocking it a hair’s width from his face, Keh-yah gritted his teeth, using all his strength to push back against the sword. It wasn’t enough. With a scream he shoved the swordsman, sending them stumbling back as Keh-yah hunched over, panting. When he looked up, two white, glowing irises in a sea of black sclera were looking through the tendrils of his long, black hair at a face he didn’t want to see.

Daga.

The Angel had short, well groomed, grey hair, now flattened in the rain. His ice blue eyes stared at Keh-yah as he steadied himself for the next attack. Keh-yah sheathed his sword, holding out his hand sand watching as the skin turned pitch black and trailed up his fingers, over his wrists and stopped just below his forearms. A thick, pulsing ball of black shadow accumulated in front of him as he ripped it in two, one for each hand and sent two pulses of pure, black energy flying at the Angel.

Daga laughed, blocking the magic and throwing his own white light back. The Sacred Guards had all stopped to watch this one on one duel with the two incredibly ancient and powerful creatures.

“Give up, you are defeated!” Daga yelled, cackling as lighting streaked across the sky.

He sent large pulses of energy flying at Keh-yah with amazing speed, but Keh-yah merely lifted a hand and as the pulses streaked by. As they passed him he caught them in his own field, throwing them back at Daga, who dived into the mud to barely escape them. Daga shot more light at the demon who held out a hand, stopping it in its’ tracks, before shattering it.

Keh-yah took the advantage of the situation, driving onto the Angel and biting his face with his fangs, ripping a chunk of his cheek free. Keh-yah spat it out, going in for another bite, only for the Angel to block it at the last minute.

“It’s over, you’ve lost demon!” He growled at Keh-yah, grinning as a snide smile crept across his face. “You kill me, the entire Sacred Army will descend onto you. Every soldier is here, because you are the only one left to hunt.”

The glowing light faded from Keh-yah’s eyes as they grew wide. “What?” He breathed, the second of weakness used by Daga to thrust him off.

“That’s right. Saath-gin-daah has fallen. Ered has fallen. Nem-hai has fallen, all at my hand! You, Keh-yah, are the last of your kind!”

Keh-yah felt the sword fall from his grip and land with a heavy thud in the mud. The rain seemed to ease a little as lightning flashed violently around them.

“No…” Keh-yah whispered. He had just been with the Council of the High Grym three days ago. They had all been alive. They all knew this was coming, but they had prepared, scattered, hidden... How could Daga have defeated the most powerful of Demons so fast?

Daga laughed at Keh-yah’s body as it sank into the mud slowly, his fingers curling around the sword and lifting it up.

With an enraged scream Keh-yah hurtled at Daga, swinging violently as he hissed at the Angel, no longer caring for his own safety. The Angel had to die.

After a few minutes of blocking slash after slash, Daga rolled his eyes and kicked Keh-yah in the stomach, sending him flying across the marsh. Keh-yah picked himself up, staggering as Daga sauntered forwards. Everything hurt, burned and ached. His lungs couldn’t get enough air as Keh-yah hunched over again, before falling to his knees. He could feel the fight draining from him.

There was nothing he could do.

Daga was right, he was dead either way, the least he could do was die knowing that he had guarded it until the end.

The secret would die with him.

Daga cackled as he looked down at the defeated Keh-yah. “Awww, don’t look so sad. The misery is only just staring for you.” He cooed at the kneeling demon. Keh-yah felt numb. Everyone was gone.

The whole world suddenly felt very cold, large and empty. He didn’t even notice the hilt of Daga’s sword coming down onto his skull until he heard the sickening crunch.

The demon fell face first into the mud, going limp. “Tie him up, then get moving! We have until nightfall!” Daga screamed at the Angel soldiers, who rushed forwards. Attaching the specially made shackles, they sighed in relief, knowing the demon was virtually powerless now.

A large guard picked up the limp demon from the mud, carrying Keh-yah’s body to a waiting cart. They held out the demon for another guard to bind him by the wrists and feet, before throwing Keh-yah hard onto the cart, climbing in after and getting locked inside.

An hour into the trip, he watched the demon twitch, coming to for a brief moment, before it’s creepy black eyes rolled back and it passed out again. Many more hours into the trip he came around again, groaning in pain and looking around confused as it tried to make sense of the darkness. The sun had set long before and they were navigating in the dark, not that that bothered them, Angels and Demons could see well in the dark... Except in his weakened state, he probably couldn't.

The soldier grinned, chuckling as he raised a heavy, armour clad fist and brought it down against the demon’s skull with a crunch. A tiny sigh slipped from his lips as Keh-yah went still once again. When he would awake again, it would be in a cell, a fitting place for scum like him.

~~

“They killed every one of my kind, except me, whittling us down until they knew I was the only one left. Then, they hunted me down like an animal.” Keh-yah finished, his voice faint and face haunted, black tears brimming in his eyes.

Nathaniel had glanced at Mark, as Keh-yah’s tears trailed down his cheeks. “So that means…” Mark trailed off.

“Yes.” Keh-yah breathed.

“I am the last of my kind.”

“But I thought demons were immortal?” Nathaniel piped up, earning a stern glare from Mark.

Keh-yah chuckled dryly, tiredly, as if he’d had to explain it before. “I am immortal in the sense I have no natural life span. I can live forever, and it would take a lot more to kill me than say, a human. But nothing is truly unkillable. Anything will die if it is ripped to enough pieces.” He smiled grimly.

“But the only reason I’m not dead is because they wanted me alive. They could easily have killed me if they wanted to, and I was kept inches from death many times, but they didn’t let me die. That would have been a mercy, but then the secret they want to know would die with me. They value it too much to lose it, so they tried to torture it out of me instead.”

Nathaniel frowned, “What secret?”

Mark sighed, slapping his forehead. “Well it wouldn’t be a closely guarded secret if he told you.” Keh-yah smiled, he seemed to enjoy this conflict. “The secret I hold is our most sacred power as a demon of my kind. I am the last creature that knows how to cross the barrier between life and death.”

Mark frowned this time, sitting back and processing this news. “So wait, you’re dead or can come back from the dead? I don’t understand.” Keh-yah sighed, tired of the questions but rolled his eyes, even though a slight smirk began creeping over his lips. “I am alive, I just so happen to be able to cross the threshold between life and death to take spirits across it. I do not have to be dead when I do it, but I’m not exactly alive either. I’m... briefly, truly immortal.” Mark froze, turning his head to Keh-yah.

“So that means you’re… a grim reaper.”

Keh-yah shrugged, “I prefer the term: the physical manifestation of the human concept of death. But, yes. In layman’s terms, I… am a grim reaper.” He sighed.

“I am death.”

He let the words hang in the air, as the two humans stared at him with new eyes. Groaning, Keh-yah massaged his temples. “If I was going to kill you, you’d be dead already. And besides, I don’t kill people, they die and I take their spirit to the ‘great beyond’. Think of it as cleaning up the spirits who don’t wanna leave...” He grimaced, before glancing at the priests, flashing his fangs and laying back into the sofa.

“I know you will think of me differently now, but I am no different to how I was befo-"

“No. You’re still Keh-yah, and I am still looking after you until you are well.” Mark interrupted the demon, who looked gratefully at Mark, bowing his head. That was definitely a demonic sign of respect.

Nathaniel was sitting silently, rubbing his chin. “What happens if the Angels find out the how to cross the barrier too?” He looked at Keh-yah, who’s face grew dark. “Then they will try to become truly immortal, try to never die. They want to raise an immortal army... And if they do... The Day of Reckoning will be upon us all.” The demon concluded flatly. The two priests looked at each other.

It suddenly dawned on them how secret they had to keep Keh-yah.

~next~

~masterlist~

✨taglist✨

@i-eat-worlds

@emcscared-whumps

[blackberry-bloody]

CW: noncon/non necessary amputation (implied but not described in detail)

Rain was trying everything in his power to yank his wrist back from his captor as he was dragging further into the lab. He begged and pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as Berkley just silently brought him down to the lab. 

He'd refused to do Berkley’s dirty work. Refused to help him kidnap some poor sap and this was his punishment.

Berkley dragged him kicking and screaming over to the metal table and managed to manhandle him into position. Like magic, the straps closed themselves around his body, pinning him in place.

Rain sobbed, still struggling against his restraints until Berkley, in a fit of impatience, punched him in the face so hard it broke his nose. His head ricocheting off the metal table so hard he was seeing stars and his vision started to go dark.

He barely had time to register the clank of metal before his shirt sleeve was rolled all the way to his shoulder, and a saw blade was placed halfway up his bicep. 

Then Berkley started cutting.

Rain choked on his scream as blade tore through flesh, then bone, then flesh again. At last being cauterized and bandaged. Then left abandoned until he passed out.

@emmettland @icyheart-and-friends

[whump-or-whatever]

Hi! Can you possibly help me with a prompt?

Demon whumpee being tortured by arch angel whumper

Whumpee is treated as a slave and a pet by whumper

What type of humiliation and torture would angel whumper use?

: )

Hmmm that’s an interesting one… I’m kind of assuming a heaven/hell dynamic here…

I would say for humiliation, definitely some stuff about how whumpee is just a lowly demon, merely one amongst thousands, entirely unremarkable in comparison with whumper.

I feel like street cred is really important for demons, like being able to show off how scary and evil they are, so having demon whumpee submit and take orders from archangel whumpee in front of other demons would certainly be humiliating.

Better yet, if the demon is forced to do the work of heaven for the archangel, ie. doing good things for the world, which is antithetical to the demons very existence.

In terms of torture, I’d say any sort of celestial weapons, holy water, or anything else associated with heaven would be good to use against a demon whumpee. It really depends on the lore you’re working with, but you could theoretically have weapons that have any effect you want cause of the negative interaction between Angel and demon stuff.

Hope this helps (:

[whumpwillow]

Demon's Haven 13

💥Flashback chapter💥

a continuation from the last one

—  

masterlist

warnings: blood, torture, past whipping, partial nudity (he's just not wearing a shirt), weird thoughts on purity and sin that isn't specifically mentioned as religion but pretty close

—

The blood ran freely. It didn’t drip, no, it poured out of him, streaming down his back. Envy felt he’d been emptied of all he was, that the wounds had opened up some part of himself that was now leaking out until all that was left was pain.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the angel had whipped him raw. He’d never been whipped before. He couldn��t think about any of that right now.

He struggled to draw in breath, shaky, slow. Every liitle movement of his body sent a jolt up through his muscles, pulling at his skin and the fresh wounds on his back. Long, thin stripes that trailed from his shoulders to his hips, criss-crossed over one another. Envy’s throat closed up, choking on air. He thought he might have still been shivering, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe he got tired of it earlier and stopped. He was so tired. He hung there in the chains, his knees sagging, his arms hanging in chains over his head the only thing keeping him upright.

He breathed in. Out. Wished he could open his eyes and be back at his House, away from any angels and torment.

Never so kind. The angel strode into the room holding a crystalline bowl filled with water, a white cloth draped over the side. Envy felt his heart beat faster in his chest at the sight of the divine being, as well as the burning in his eyes that it brought him. Even when it hurt to look directly at her, he didn’t want to look away and leave himself unsure of what might be coming. Would that be better, though, he wondered. To be oblivious, just for a moment? Envy swallowed thickly. No, he’d rather be prepared for what fate might bring him—or at least he could try and convince himself he was. He was a prince of Hell, not a common demon. He wouldn’t be made to submit so easily.

And yet, how he’d screamed. His throat felt dry and sore.

“I am here to clean your wounds,” the angel said, stepping behind him.

Envy snorted, the action sending a ripple of pain down his spine. “How nice of you.”

The angel leaned forward and brushed a hand over his cheek. Such a delicate touch, but it stung all the same. Envy couldn’t help the anger that rushed up from within him—how was that fair? How was any of this fair? The angels have the power to hurt us just by sight and touch and what do demons have? I want I want I want—

“You shouldn’t have such impure thoughts,” the angel crooned.

Envy jolted. “There’s no way—”

The angel shook her head, a slow and careful movement. “No, but you display them plainly enough.”

Envy clenched his jaw, glaring at the wall with indignation. He couldn’t see the angel from behind, but he would have shot her a look straight from Hell if he could. He’d never been very good at hiding his emotions, a skill he was often teased for by his brothers.

“I do not,” he ground out, unable to resist the urge to argue, even when he probably shouldn’t.

“Shh,” the angel said, dragging a finger over his cheek. It left a trail of burning on his skin in its wake. “You must release all that anger, hatred, and desire if you want to be made pure.”

Envy could hear the angel dip the cloth into the water and decided not to respond. He was grateful his wounds were being cleaned at all and didn’t want to make the angel do some other horrible thing instead if he said the wrong thing.

The angel touched the cloth to Envy’s back and every nerve in his body lit up with pain. Envy threw his head back and stifled a muffled cry, feeling as if the wounds were being freshly created—worse even. Fire became liquid and seeped into his bloodstream, flowing through his body and singing it from the inside. He was devoured whole. Diminished, disintegrated, dissolved. Only one thing could rend him so terribly as this.

Holy water.

The angel had brought in a bowl filled with holy water. The angel was using holy water—the antithesis to his kind—to clean his wounds.

“You can’t—” Envy began in a voice more desperate than he wanted, and was promptly shushed.

The angel circled around him and touched a finger to his lips. Still wet, it sizzled on the fragile skin. Envy made a muffled sound, but couldn’t even open his mouth.

“Oh, but I think I can.”

It didn’t hurt. Hurt was a mere word in comparison to what this was. Hurt was the feeling of being whipped over and over again, the lashes overlaid over fresh and weeping wounds. Hurt was the angel’s touch on his skin, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look upon her and bask in her stinging light.

Holy water was so far past mere hurt.

The angel wiped his back and every touch sent him jerking away but unable to escape. The water worked its way into his wounds, fresh and raw and awful. It filled his blood, his body, and all that he was and was not. He bit down hard, trying to cut off the sobs that wrenched from his throat. Worse than the whipping itself—to be burned at every touch, to feel such a gentle motion as the angel wiping away the blood but have it all be tainted by the fire that sought to consume him.

Envy couldn’t stand it.

And yet, he had to. He wouldn’t beg. He refused to. He was one of the proud lords of Hell, a demon prince, a capable ruler of his own and others’ territories. Even if blasted Pride got all the attention and accolades for his stupid plans, Envy was still better. He would never debase himself by begging for the angel to stop, no matter what she did. No matter how much it hurt.

The angel didn’t stop until all the wounds were clean, the blood washed away from his back and shoulders. Envy was left gasping for air, shivering once again.

He gave her a smile stained with tears on her way out.

—

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[iamhumannotamonster]

The thing that gets me with angel whumper and demon whumpee is that usually angels are infinitely stronger than demons, they could hurt them without even trying too hard, maybe just by touching them but at the same time angels are supposed to be the good ones here.

So you have this situation where the angel belive they are righteously impossing justice upon evil incarnated, in an extremely one-sided fight.

so sad!