#fae whumper

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whumper drugging Whumpee up so they're super docile and out of it for when the other whumpers come over for a whumper party. Whumper's guests take turns cooing over Whumpee, petting them, holding them in their laps and feeding them little treats like pieces of fruit or chocolate. The whumpers fighting for the adorable Whumpee's attention, however limited it may be. Now imagine Whumpee is a human and the whumpers are all fae.

...should I write this?

[a-class-attempter]

Whumper is a fae creature and they decided to curse Whumpee for daring to free their captive human.

The curse makes the victim to feel an intense itching sensation in the skin. This causes the victim to uncontrollably scratch until they break skin. Once the skin splits, a flower blooms in place of the skin. This spreads throughout the whole body until the victim is nothing but flesh beneath a bush of beautiful flora. If the flowers are removed, they grow back, and it is quite painful for the victim. Similar to pulling hair or nails out.

Whumpee tells their friends to tie them up so they can’t scratch while their friends search for a cure. But when Whumpee doesn’t scratch, the flowers force themselves through their skin anyway. One night, it happens in Whumpee’s mouth. They can no longer speak and can barely breathe. They have to communicate with their friends with their eyes, and all their friends can see is pain and terror. Whumpee’s friends desperately search for a cure, Caretaker searching the hardest, barely sleeping or eating.

Another night passes and the friends find Whumpee’s eye on the ground, replaced with bloody flowers in their eye socket. They can hear Whumper trying to sob but barely any sound comes out.

Eventually, Caretaker makes a deal with the fae. They sacrifice the freedom of one of Whumpee’s friends to save Whumpee.

This friend is turned into the fae’s personal pet and Whumpee, though free from the curse, is hammered with guilt for the loss of their friend and the whole group splits because of Caretaker’s actions.

Caretaker knows what they did was right. Friend wasn’t exactly an angel and Caretaker loved Whumpee more than anything and couldn’t bear to part with them. And Whumpee would learn that. Soon enough.

[loonybun]

hi thinking of circus whump rn and gonna make it your problem

- one of those classic sword box tricks, but it’s very much real. I think with an immortal whumpee that would be pretty neat.

- sad clown whumpee breaking down mid-performance, sobbing to the audience and letting go of years of anguish… Only to be quickly interrupted with a quick punchline from another clown! The audience, none the wiser, roars with laughter.

- a caged inhuman/supernatural whumpee being awed at as they’re paraded through the tent. get a whole freak show while you’re at it!

- a very poorly trained acrobat whumpee being forced to walk a high tightrope. without a net, obviously.

- a whumper as a ringmaster, showing clear favoritism towards the better performing acts of the night and giving them special privileges like decent food.

- saw this one comment under a song that suggested a faerie circus (as in faeries putting humans in a circus) and it has not and will never leave my brain. the POTENTIAL.

- bleeding out backstage. there’s no medical care in sight. you’d expect a circus to have better health insurance.

- a whumpee or caretaker looking after or finding comfort in the animals in the circus. just trying to provide them with more care than they were given.

- evil clowns! if you like evil clowns, why not use em? clown whumpers clown whumpers clown whumpers…..

if you write anything using these please tag me i will go nuts.

[whumpy-wyrms]

it’s my birthday so here’s some whump prompts! feel free to eat these up like birthday cake :)

whumpee being stuck in captivity for so long, unable to track the time or having their memory wiped so that they don’t remember when their birthday is or how old they are.

whumpee’s birthday is the only day when whumper is somewhat nice to them, giving them cake and presents, and spending the day doing whatever whumpee wants to do (except leaving, of course). whumpee has to savor this day as much as they can, knowing the next day will be filled with pain and torment again.

fae whumper who kidnaps whumpee by throwing them a birthday party. whumpee eats the cake not knowing that they’re now trapped there forever.

whumper getting whumpee as a birthday present. maybe they’re a scientist getting their first test subject, maybe they’re a vampire getting their first bloodbag. whatever the case is, whumper is excited and whumpee is terrified.

ghost whumpee who’s birthday continues to be celebrated by their friends, even after they died. they still feel loved and appreciated even if nobody can see or hear them.

ghost whumpee who’s birthday was forgotten or ignored after they died, never celebrated by the people who they thought cared about them.

multiple whumpees in captivity. whenever it’s one whumpee’s birthday, whumper leaves them alone but tortures the other whumpee twice as bad, and forces them to watch.

whumper having nobody to celebrate their birthday with so they kidnap whumpee.

whumpee who’s birthdays are more fun with whumper than anywhere else. whumper getting them their favorite birthday cake, presents they’ve always wanted, spending the day having the most fun whumpee’s ever had. whumper taunting them about how they like it here, and would never be this appreciated anywhere else.

whumpee getting kidnapped on their birthday, rescued on their birthday, recaptured on their birthday, or dying on their birthday.

whumper taunting whumpee during their birthdays. burning them with birthday cake candles, feeding them a cake they’re allergic to, or poisoning it, and taunting them about how another year has passed and nobody has come to rescue them.

whumper who celebrates their own birthday by torturing whumpee, saying it’s the least whumpee could do to give them a happy birthday.

whumper who loves to celebrate whumpee’s birthday, taking the day off and goofing around with them. whumper blowing up balloons and throwing them at whumpee, making their hair stand up from static electricity, or inhaling the helium to sound all squeaky. silly whumpers my beloved

whumper notices whumpee seems lonely, so for their birthday, whumper kidnaps someone new and gifts them to whumpee to keep them company.

whumpee who escaped captivity and is on the run. they’re living in the wilderness, unable to celebrate their own birthday and risk being found.

whumpee who’s birthday marks the end of a time loop. every time a year passes, they go back to the beginning and have to go through the whole year of being tormented by whumper all over again.

for caretaker’s birthday, whumper sends them the bloody remains of whumpee as a birthday present.

whumper forcing whumpee to eat parts of themself (or a loved one) for their birthday.

whumper cutting immortal whumpee open while they’re still conscious and feeling everything, burning candles in their flesh and cutting them up to eat instead of eating a birthday cake.

[oliversrarebooks]

get lost

a story about hapless wanderers and the fairy that collects them

Masterlist

TW: mind control, drugging, restraints, captivity, hypnosis, non-sexual touching and manhandling, condescension

You are lost.

Maybe you decided to go for a hike that was above your skill level. Maybe you wandered into the woods behind your suspiciously cheap vacation rental. Maybe you woke up here among the thick undergrowth. You might not even remember how you ended up here.

But you know for sure you are lost.

Any hint of a path has long been swallowed by roots and branches, moss and weeds. You might have some supplies, but they're not nearly enough to spend a significant amount of time lost in the forest. The trees are even so thick overhead that you can't reliably tell the direction of the sun, if you even knew which direction might help.

The only thing you can do is to keep trudging, hoping that eventually you'll get somewhere.

The more you climb over thick roots and rotten logs, the more you wade through tall grasses, the more exhausted you're becoming. Your calf muscles ache. Your arms are scratched and stung from twigs and rough bark and bugs. You're so tired. But you know you can't stop for long if you hope to get out of the forest before nightfall. It can't be that much further, can it?

You pause for just a moment to lean against a tree, taking a deep breath. The smell of green leaves and damp earth fills your senses, both pleasant and oppressive. This time, you think you sense something else. It smells almost sweet, like flowers or candy. It's different. And while you're not sure it will help, you feel drawn to it.

As you stumble further into the forest, you notice more and more flowers growing thick around you. Scatterings of clover and goldenrod are giving way to larger, more exotic blooms, in stunning jewel-tone colors. Even as the forest gets deeper and darker, you see more and more of the flowers, surrounding you, and the scent of sweet nectar and pollen grows stronger. It makes you feel woozy, almost drowsy, but you can't stop now. You need to keep going. 

You wonder vaguely how such large flowers can grow in a place with little sunlight. The flowers hanging from the branches and swaying in front of you are nearly as big as your entire face. They sway softly in a breeze you can't feel, and you watch them, transfixed in wonder. They're beautiful. And they smell so good.

You don't notice when your feet stop moving. You barely notice when something warm snakes around your ankles.

The flowers sparkle and shimmer and sway in front of you, and you sway too, dazed. A cloud of yellow engulfs your vision and you cough softly as your head fills with pollen. You feel so sleepy, so deeply drowsy, as though you'd like to lay down and take a nap, just rest your eyes for only a minute...

No, you can't stop here. You're lost, and the forest is dangerous. You muster up what strength remains to you to try and take a step back, only to realize that your legs are halfway wrapped in vines, holding you firmly in place. Your feeble struggles cause you to lose balance, and more vines catch you, wrapping around your chest and arms.

Your limbs are already heavy and numb from the sedating pollen, and your weak thrashes against the vines holding you captive do nothing to free you. Just as you start to panic, your mind trying to reassert itself against the numbing influences, the flowers appear before you again, distracting you with their colors. They're starting to blur, your vision fogging. You're getting sleepy, all of your fight draining from your body. You yawn involuntarily, taking in more pollen. You're fighting a losing battle against your heavy, drooping eyelids.

As your mind starts to slip into a drugged, half-awake daze, you're vaguely aware that the vines are pulling you against a tree and restraining you firmly but comfortably. You can hardly move an inch now, but you're becoming less and less inclined to try. It's so much effort to resist, when you could just fall into a dozing dream, relaxed and comfortable and so drowsy.

One of the flowers is growing closer, engulfing your entire vision. You feel the soft petals brush your cheek, the scent of sweet pollen and nectar intense as the flower seals around your face. The dim spark of consciousness that remains to you recognizes this as the final step in the trap: it's going to put you to sleep. You know now it's aware of what it's doing, and it's going to incapacitate you, make you sleep so deeply, helpless and unaware, vulnerable to whatever or whoever set this trap in the first place.

There's nothing you can do about it but take a deep breath. You're so comfortable and sleepy, and your eyelids are beginning to flutter, too heavy to keep open. You relax into the vines. Everything's starting to feel so floaty and far away, and it's so nice to feel your pain and fear flowing out of you. Every breath smells like flowers. Every breath pulls your eyelids down, coaxing you into a gentle, easy slumber. You're too tired and dazed to fight it, to even remember why you wanted to fight it. It's so much nicer to stop moving, to shut your eyes, to let the gentle flowers and vines lull you into sleep.

You skim the edge of sleep, and your dreams are filled with the forest, but you're not lost any more. You belong to it. You're part of the moss on the trees and the breeze ruffling the flowers and the ants marching in a neat line. Your mind relaxes, defenses lowering, as the wind and the  trees whisper to you in words you don't understand.

You don't know how long you sleep, but eventually you feel someone pulling at the vines holding you in place, the light pressure on your body loosening. You fall forward into warm arms, blinking slowly, dazed and just barely awake.

"There, there, I've got you," says a voice like flowing water, washing over you. "Just relax. You're safe."

You have questions, but your tongue is too thick to speak and your mind too drowsy to formulate them. "What...?" you manage.

"Shhh, hush, now. I'm going to take good care of you." 

You're being picked up in a strong grip, and you feel yourself being carried away, the meager light around you dimming as you're brought into an even deeper part of the forest. Your helpless body is laid down on soft grass and moss, propped up against a tree, and you sink into it, fighting the urge to fall back asleep.

A face appears in front of you, shining in the dim light. The eyes sparkle and the mouth smiles, but you can tell instinctively it is not human. 

The strange being sits back and begins to play on a set of panpipes, a low, haunting tune. Its form is difficult to make out, youthful and humanoid but not clearly male nor female, and you can see sparkling, deep blue wings like those of a butterfly. A fairy, perhaps -- that's the closest thing your mind offers. It seems clad only in flowers, ribbons, and strings of beads, which flutter slightly in the breeze. 

It's so hard to think, to even remember how you came to be here, and the music is slowly but surely stealing your focus away. The song is so beautiful, and you're completely relaxed and calm, not at all inclined to move, much less escape. Increasingly less inclined to think too hard about any of this. The air around you seems to sparkle as your vision blurs, your eyes blinking so, so slowly. 

Through your haze you see the fairy smile, looking down at you. You smile back weakly. It stops playing -- although the music continues to tie your mind in binds -- and kneels beside you. It tilts your chin up with the softest of touches, their fingers like sunbeams, and gaze into your glassy eyes.

"What's your name, little one?"

Your name spills from your mouth, and the fairy laughs with a sound like bells.

"Of course it is. You're such a silly little thing, running away from me, aren't you?"

Running away? Your brow furrows. Even in your entranced state, that doesn't seem quite right, does it...?

"You don't even remember why you ran away, did you?" The fairy ruffles your hair affectionately. "It's an awfully good thing I found you before you hurt yourself. You were like a helpless moth, flapping uselessly against a spider web."

"I didn't..." You're trying to collect your thoughts enough to explain why that's wrong. "I didn't run away from you," you finish weakly.

"No?" It leans in closer, eyes far too bright. "Then how did you get here?"

Your mouth opens and closes.

The fairy traces a finger along your cheek, just under your eye. "Can you remember?"

You can't. Your mind is still full of fog and pollen and everything feels like a blur. "...I was lost," you manage.

"Yes, you were," it says with a predatory grin. "And now you're found, but you don't even remember that you belong to me. Poor dandelion fluff." It produces a long, iridescent ribbon from seemingly nowhere, holding it up in front of you. "But don't worry, I'm not mad. I know you can't help it. Your head's just so full of flowers that there's no room for anything hard, like memories."

You'd like to protest, but that seems right somehow. Doesn't it?

"Here, let me put your collar back on." It ties the ribbon in a bow around your neck, and you're too relaxed to stop it. The ribbon feels silky smooth and weightless, and the fairy wraps one end around its wrist. That feels right, too, like something long forgotten locking into place. "Let's get you home, little moth."

It picks you up effortlessly once again, and your limbs are too heavy and numb to do anything more but lean against it. In the blink of an eye, you're flying. The soft, rhythmic wingbeats fill your ears and soothe you as the fairy somehow glides effortlessly through the thick tangles of branches and vines.

You come to a stop at a darkened clearing filled with enormous mushrooms, large enough to sit on and pulsating with soft blue-purple light. There are beads and ribbons and trinkets hanging from every tree branch. In the dim light you can see the sparkle of many colored crystals, and, off to one side, there seems to be a pile of people huddled on top of the mushrooms. Humans, like you, all in various states of undress, with their skin painted in wild, rainbow hues. All of them seem fast asleep.

Before you have a chance to wonder if this is the fate that awaits you, you're laid out onto a bed of soft mushroom, your ribbon-leash tied to a tree. You try to push yourself up and look around, but your head feels dizzy and your arms are heavy and uncoordinated. The fairy pulls your pack from your back and pushes you down gently. You watch as it rifles through your things, tossing this and that to the side, running its fingers down the rough paper of your sketchbook, using your pens to mark its hands, clicking your flashlight on and off, before tossing it all into a pile of other backpacks.

"Drink." The fairy is holding out a small clay cup of unnaturally bright red liquid. "You must be thirsty, little moth. Drink."

You swallow hard. Your throat and lips are dry, but the last remnant of your reason is warning you with all its might. "What is it?" you ask.

"Medicine, silly thing. Medicine to open your mind. Medicine to help you accept. Medicine to soothe you to slumber."

You manage to shake your head. "I don't want that."

The fairy smiles, the shimmering red liquid reflected in its impossibly large eyes, and speaks your name. It sounds like water rushing down a mountain, like fire consuming a forest.

It holds out the cup once more, and your hands reach to take it, unable to stop yourself from drinking. The medicine is warm and tastes like sweet berries and slides down your throat like a living thing.

"Foolish little bunny," it says gleefully, and then you feel everything. Slow. Down.

Suddenly, you're hyperaware of everything around you. The mushrooms below you and the cool air around you makes your skin prickle, the beads clinking together overhead sound like a symphony, and you can smell a hundred things you're sure you've never smelled before. It would be utterly overwhelming if you weren't completely relaxed. A butterfly flaps nearby, and you watch its wings sparkle through lazy, half-lidded eyes.

The fairy is in front of you again, holding a tray of little pots of pigment. It dips its fingers into the purple and runs its thumb along your cheek, outlining your eyes. Symbols are drawn on your forehead as it mutters strange words under its breath. With the pads of its fingers, it coaxes your eyelids shut, and you can feel pigment being applied to them too. You're not inclined to open them again as it lines your lips with colors, running down your chin and onto your neck.

"You're so cute under my spell," says the fairy. "Sometime I'll take you to a still pool so you can see how beautiful my painting is on your blank face."

It picks up your hands and decorates those as well, as your mind dozes and drifts, listening to the far off sounds of bird wings and creatures scuttling through the undergrowth. Your thoughts are filled with colors and mushrooms as a deft finger draws lines around your arms, the fairy's muttering turning into a song, a spell. 

You can feel the magic settling on you and around you like a heavy blanket. Your shoes and socks are pulled off too, landing nearby with a thud, and your feet are decorated, pigment tickling the soles of your feet and the spaces between your toes. Hands that feel sun warmed draw your wrists together and bind them with more silky, weightless ribbons.

"Sleep now, tired little thing. You're safe and sound here with me."

You're half-asleep, eyelids fluttering, as you're picked up and set down again next to the pile of other humans. 

You were lost.

And now you have been collected.

And now you will not be found.

[clickerflight]

Benjamin Ashmaker

A handsome lad. The fae queen's beautiful husband. A caped compadre. Definitely no whump going on here. Definitely not. Nope. Don't look under the cut

BABBYYYYYYYYYY I love him so much

Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff 

@honeycollectswhump @whump-blog-reblogs @pigeonwhumps @mj-or-say10 @percy-frayer 

@currentlyinthesprial @scoundrelwithboba @whumps-and-bumps

[whump-me-all-night-long]

Midsummer Nightmare

AI-less Whumptober Day 1: Drugging

Masterlist

TW: human whumpee, fae whumper, drugging (duh), hmm hunting mention? not really sure what else, but enjoy!

---

Stopping to wipe his sweat-damp forehead with the back of his wrist, Arne squinted his eyes against the sun. It was starting to set, but he figured he still has a couple hours before nightfall.

Frowning down at his meager bounty for the day—two rather skinny rabbits and a half dozen unbroken eggs he’d found amongst a fallen nest—Arne considered: he could head home now, but he could already picture his mother and sisters’ faces, already too thin with hunger, sun-beaten and weary. 

He knew that they’d say it was fine, that he had done the best he could, that all the animals worth hunting had already fled north in an attempt to escape the oppressive heat of summer. He knew this, and yet, he couldn’t help the disappointment sinking and settling deep in his gut.

As he turned to head back to their cottage with a heavy-hearted sigh, a flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. Spinning around, bow at the ready, he nearly gasped as his eyes landed on what, for a moment, he thought might simply be a trick of the heat: a beautiful, plump doe, grazing peacefully just a few yards from him.

Notching an arrow—the feathers of which his youngest sister, Lucia, has carefully attached—Arne drew his arm back, keeping his aim steady as he took deep, stabilizing breaths.

On the exhale, he let the arrow fly loose, but, as it barrelled straight towards the doe, it seemed to almost wiggle in the air, veering enough off-course to fly over the doe’s head. To Arne’s astonishment, the doe merely glanced up before meandering off, away from Arne.

Unable to allow his prey to escape so easily, he pulled another arrow from his quiver as he followed the beautiful beast on light, near silent feet. This time, when the doe settled, Arne allowed himself to creep even closer to her, making sure he wouldn’t miss again.

The second shot hit the doe right in the heart, causing her to collapse with an eerie quietness. As Arne stepped forward to claim his prey, he suddenly became aware of another presence. Kneeling next to the still beast, he looked around, settling one hand lightly on the hilt of the knife he kept at his side at all times.

“Good shot.” The voice was soft, smooth, like warm honeyed tea sliding down your throat.

Arne spun around, fingers tightening around his blade, as he located the figure.

At first appearance, the stranger looked so out of place, it was borderline absurd to the point that Arne had to resist the urge to laugh.

They were tall, with pale golden hair that barely brushed the nape of their neck. Even with the stranger in the shadows of the trees, Arne could see their unnatural golden eyes glinting with curiosity. Even the stranger’s clothes were off-putting: finely made black cloth with golden threads adorning it, fitted closely and precisely to the stranger’s frame, as if it had been made specifically for them. Nobody in Arne’s village could afford to purchase or make fabric like that, even if they could spare the time and energy it would take to travel to the nearest town to acquire it—which they couldn’t.

“Who are you?” Arne asked, attempting to keep his voice flat and even, not threatening but not allowing any nerves to show, either.

The stranger smiled, showing off pearly white teeth that seemed a bit too sharp- Arne blinked and the stranger’s smile looked normal.

“My name is Ikalos,” the stranger said, in a subtle foreign lilt. They weren’t difficult to understand; in fact, their voice had a melodic cadence to it. “I apologize if I startled you. I’m unfamiliar with this area, and I seem to have gotten myself turned around. Would you mind pointing me to the nearest town or village? Anywhere I could find a meal and lodging for the night, really.”

Shoulders relaxing, Arne offered the man—for, now that he got a better look at him, Ikalos was quite masculine, despite the strange beauty he had—a tentative smile. “Sorry for my rudeness, I’m just not used to seeing people this far out. A lot of them fear the forest, even if they say they don’t. My village is the closest to here, only a mile or so hike, and then another half mile to my family’s home. We have plenty of room if you would care to stay the night.” Arne hesitated. “Not a lot of people in my village are all that welcoming to strangers, if you know what I mean.”

Ikalos nodded, clarity glinting in his eyes. “I do understand, yes. Well, if you do not mind, I would like to join you on your walk back, if only to ensure I don’t get myself twisted back up in this damned forest.” He paused, licking his lips. “I can even help you carry this doe back, since it seems you have enough you’re already carrying,” eyeing Arne’s bow and quiver, the rest of his bounty for the day, and the belt slung low across his hips, where his knife and waterskin hung.

Arne smiled. “That would be great, actually, now that you mention it, it is pretty hot outside.” Unfastening his waterskin, he held it out. “Would you care for a drink? I can’t promise how cold it is, but it’s fresh at least.”

Ikalos pulled his own skin from somewhere that Arne hadn’t noticed before. “I appreciate your offer, but I’ve been staying plenty hydrated. This is a delightful fruity wine that has been passed down in my family for generations. Light and refreshing, without the alcohol being overpowering. Would you like a taste? It truly is the least I could do.” He held it out between them.

Shrugging, noticing the sandpaper-like texture of his lips, Arne accepted the skin gratefully, noticing in the back of his mind how soft and supple the skin was. Uncorking it, he took a tentative sip, marveling at the airiness of the drink, how he felt rejuvenated almost immediately. “This is delicious!” he exclaimed, attempting to pass it back but Ikalos waved him off. 

“Please, drink your fill. I’ve had plenty of the stuff over the years,” he said. “By the way, I didn’t catch who you said you were. May I have your name?”

After another, deeper gulp of the wine, Arne held his hand out to shake Ikalos’. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. My name is Arne. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“It truly was a fortunate twist of fate that you caught my nose— I mean, my ear. I heard your footsteps and had to try to find you myself. This really is quite ideal timing for myself, but, well, that’s a long story.” Ikalos grinned, this time his teeth definitely looked too sharp.

Blinking away the sudden blurriness in his vision, Arne frowned. “I’m sorry, I think you lost me.” Shaking his clouded head, Arne turned away. “Anyways, we should probably head back now, if we want to reach the village before total nightfall.”

As he turned, though, the air seemed to shimmer and warp before him, and his limbs seem to stop obeying him, becoming impossibly heavy. “Woah,” he murmured. “I- uh, I’m not feeling too- um, too well.”

Too-cold hands gently guided him onto the forest floor, making him sit down rather harder than he was expecting. Those strange—inhuman, Arne was realizing, too late—golden eyes stared deep into him. “It’s alright now, Arne, everything will be perfectly okay, my dear,” Ikalos said softly, gently. “But for now, Arne, go to sleep.”

At those words, Arne’s eyes slipped closed and his consciousness left him.

---

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober @thelazywitchphotographer @whither-wander-whump @theelvishcowgirl @deckofaces @badluck990 @whumperofworlds @cupcakes-and-pain @misspelledwitch

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 2 - Alternate prompt: Animal bite

TW/CW: Fae whumper, mortal whumpee, animal bite, flesh wound, creepy whumper, teenzy gaslighting, scared whumpee, non-con body control, binding word Word count: 1'000

Coyotes are absolutely not supposed to be native to our forests!?!

Whumpee ran on the narrowing dirt path, soles of their sneakers hitting the soil with quick thumps.

Behind them another loud bark sounded. This time even closer than before.

Tree. Tree. They had to find a tree. Something high to climb onto. But just as their eyes settled onto two large foundlings on either side of the road and they bolted between them pain exploded in their left calf. They came crashing to the floor, jerking around to see a coyote latching onto their leg, teeth blazed and already sprinkled red from their blood. Panicked their fingers searched the ground until closing around a larger stone and aggressively throwing it towards the animal...Only that it never hit them. Completely unsettled they robbed back a few more paces until a shiver ran over their spine. They looked back-nothing but forest.

They looked to the front again-nothing. No coyote, definitely still an injured leg-but wait. There was something. A pair of eyes watching them from the tangled thicket. Still holding the stone up high they yelled out: "Who's there? Why are you watching me!?"

A chuckle, barely distinguishable from the ruste of leaves. And then a voice sounded like the flow of water: "More enticingly; Who are you?"

Luckily they were more outraged than naive so they ignored the creature's question and doubled down: "Why did you just stand there as that coyote attacked me!?"

"What coyote?", the voice asked unfathomable, smiling everlastingly, now a little more visible.

"The one that was just-" But was it? They think. Had it really been there? It was gone when they looked back but they didn't hear any rustling or paws hitting the soil. Their eyes fell back to the still bleeding flesh wound on their leg. Part of it was definitely real!

"Oh dear, you're injured.", the creature commented. Always in the same inscrutable tone of voice. "That doesn't look so good."

"Yes! It also hurts. Now either you help me get out of this forest and to a doctor or leave me alone!"

"Hmm.", the creature mused, as if overturning Whumpees ultimatum. "Well what would I get in return?"

"Wh-What!? I'm literally bleeding right now, what type of person do you have to be in order to not help somebody injured with a flesh wound unless you get something out of it!?". they ranted.

"-I'm sorry I didn't quite catch it before. Could you give me your name again?", the creature interrupted casually.

"Wha-Its Whumpee.", they answered puzzled. Taken off guard by the interruption. They sigh annoyed. "Now can we please go!?"

"Whumpee.", the creature drawled out. Repeating the name as if testing how the name felt on their tongue.

Simultaneously Whumpee felt a chill run down their spine.

The creature asked, stepping out of the dense underbush and onto the dirt path.

Now they could finally see their mysterious companion. They were dressed in flowly clothes that, if you looked closely enough, seemed to go back and fourth between cloth and leaves. Autumm coloured leaves, nearly glowing in yellows, oranges and reds were everywhere. Even in the creatures chestnut hair and adorning its iridescent skin. Faint but intricate antlers grew on top of its head.

"Whumpee", they said, repeating the name again. Each time seemingly with more finality. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind standing up now, would you?", they asked.

And despite the pain that was still searing throught Whumpees leg and their disdain at the thought of doing what this egoistic and very weird looking person asked their body obeyed. Standing up on shaky legs and wincing as weight was applied to the wound.

"Now, follow me if you wouldn't mind.", they ordered and took a couple steps back, fully crossing between the two foundlings and beckoning a now very unsettled Whumpee closer.

"What-What's happening?", Whumpee asked. Their body starting to move after the person.

"I'm simply...Trying to help you, of course. If you would please follow me into this circle right here.", they commanded. Taking another step back into what appears to be a naturally grown circle of mushrooms. Venemous ones on top of that.

And despite Whumpees best attempts to regain control over their own body they followed it. "Iii would rather not, thank you." Through those two stones and into the circle. Their eyes widended. Oh no. Of course they had heard of the stories, the fabels and joke-warnings. Speaking of fairy circles and stolen babies, changlings and abductions from deep within the forest through magical hand but they never believed that it would be real! Or that it would happen to them! It couldn't. Right? "You-You're…a fairy?", they finally mustered up as their foot was already inside the circle.

The creature smiled, or much rather bared their teeth at them, pointy and sharp looking. "Oh my dear little human, I'll give you this bit of information for free. I'm a Fae." And with that they grapped the human's arm with their long fingers and pulled them completely into the circle. "And by telling me your name you sold yourself to me!", they explained gleefully.

Whumpee's face turned ash-white but as they opened their mouth to…yeah to do what? To portest? To plead for their life? The Fae put a long, iridescent hand over their eyes and effectively silenced them in the process.

"Sssh. There will be more time for talking later. Now let's go to a doctor and then home.", they smiled wickedly and the world outside of the circle seemed to shift. Colour dots lengthening into brushes and contours blurring until. It all suddenly stopped again. The Fae took their hand off of Whumpee's eyes and graciously allowed them to see again.

They had to blink against the light when they opened their eyes again. It hadn't been this bright before, has it? But then they finally really looked. And Oh Gods! Everything looked different! Where were they!?

"Welcome to the Fae Wild little mortal!"

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober, @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @shattermind-8

[avvail-whumps]

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.

[blooming-bruises]

Echo wanted to touch it. He wanted to pull on that fine, platinum hair and see the eyes that were currently hidden below lashes and lids widen as they looked up at him. He wanted to see what flowers could bloom on that porcelain skin under his fingers.

[cepheusgalaxy]

Ok, but imagine a fae whumper who forces whumpee to eat fae food.

Now they can't ever run away.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

The Party

Jacinth Masterlist

Remember this post? Welp, I wrote it! At first I was going to use generic characters, but then I realized how well this scenario fits for Jacinth, so I quickly made the change!

Also, thank you to @lilywolfgray for helping me figure out the simile that pops up!

this one is a bit long, so I've put it under the cut!

The sound of Jacinth’s footsteps made Y/N stiffen in bed nervously.

“Wake up my little human,” Jacinth’s silvery voice cooed, “you’ve been napping long enough.”

Jacinth pulled the curtain of his and Y/N’s shared room aside, practically floating over to her. Y/N slowly sat up, her hands twisting the comforter draped over her.

“Have I told you what today is, hm?”

Y/N shook her head.

“It’s the Festival of Winter’s End,” Jacinth said with a gleaming smile, “and I’d like to bring you to the celebration. But first, I have to get you ready.”

Jacinth produced a small flower in his hand, its petals trembling from how much nectar it was filled with. Y/N knew exactly what that deceptively sweet liquid would do to her if she drank it. She looked at Jacinth with a pleading expression.

“Don’t give me that look,” Jacinth said, “drink this, won’t you? It tastes wonderful~”

When Y/N still didn’t drink, Jacinth took hold of her chin and tilted it up.

“Drink, Y/N,” he commanded gently.

As soon as Jacinth had said her name, Y/N felt her lips falling apart so the fae could pour the nectar into her mouth. Y/N swallowed, feeling the sweet, sticky liquid coat her mouth and throat.

“Very good,” Jacinth praised, “such an obedient human.”

Jacinth took Y/N’s hand and gently pulled her out of bed. He led her through the rooms of his abode to a little series of pools surrounded by soft moss. He sat her down next to one of them and positioned himself behind her. He took a small stone bowl and filled it with water from the pool. He poured the contents over her head, letting it soak into her hair. He picked up a vial and opened it, letting the fragrant contents cover her scalp. He started to work it into her hair, until a bubbly lather had formed. Once it was fully worked in, he rinsed it out with more water. All through the process, Y/N could feel her eyes getting heavy and her body going limp.

Jacinth went to remove Y/N’s dress next. When he had first taken her, he had gotten rid of those unsightly human clothes and replaced them with nicer, more appealing garments. He had barely gotten to the strap of the dress when Y/N attempted to shuffle away from him, her cheeks decorated with a red flush.

“Now now,” Jacinth said, “I have to wash you. Don’t be difficult.”

Y/N shook her head, screwing her eyes shut. Jacinth sighed.

“I forgot how sensitive you humans are,” he said, “I suppose we’ll just spot-clean.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but only a bit of slurred nonsense came out. Jacinth chuckled, then grabbed another vial. He poured the liquid inside onto a small wad of moss. He started to scrub Y/N’s skin until it was soft and clean. Y/N blinked slowly; the world started to tilt until she realized she had fallen against Jacinth’s chest.

“Aw,” Jacinth cooed, kissing her on her head, “how sweet.”

…

Y/N wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All she knew was one minute, Jacinth was holding her amongst the mossy pools, then the next, she was blinking up at a series of lanterns hung along the trees. She heard the sound of chatter and music. She tried to sit up, but her body felt too heavy. Jacinth’s soft laughter rumbled behind her, and his face came into view.

“Finally awake, hm?” he mused, “I suppose I could’ve just asked you to sleep instead of feeding you the nectar… ah well.”

Another face came into view. It was another fae, with pointy ears, pink skin and deep, red eyes.

“Jacinth, is this your human?” she asked in awe.

“Indeed she is,” Jacinth replied with a smile.

“May we hold her?” a green fae asked.

Jacinth’s grip on Y/N tightened ever so slightly.

“She isn’t used to other fae yet,” he said, “but you can feed her if you’d like.”

The pink fae giggled with delight, then allowed a raspberry to grow in her palm. She brought it to Y/N’s lips. Y/N, who was still quite out of it, opened her mouth to let the fae feed her. It tasted much sweeter than the fruit at home, and a little bit of the juice dribbled down her chin, which made the pink fae chuckle and coo. Jacinth wiped the juice away with the pad of his thumb.

A green fae came up next, holding a honeycomb in his hand. He offered it to Y/N, and she drank the honey inside.

“She is so precious,” the green fae said, “how I wish I had a human of my own.”

“She’s very special to me,” Jacinth replied, “she is like the soothing touch of a fresh spring breeze.”

“Quite so,” the green fae agreed.

As the night went on, several more fae came up to see Y/N. Any time one of them tried to touch her, Jacinth would pull her closer to himself and make some excuse for why they couldn’t. The music playing was otherworldly, and Y/N often caught herself swaying to it.

Y/N yawned and felt her eyelids drooping shut. She felt Jacinth lift her up in a bridal carry. He made his excuses to the other fae and started to carry her home.

“Did you have a good time, pet?” Jacinth asked.

Y/N only murmured in response, eliciting a fond chuckle from him.

“Sleep now, Y/N,” Jacinth whispered.

Y/N drifted off just as the sun began to peek out over the horizon. Spring was on the way.

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

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @21fandom-shipper21 @the-introverted-writer-for-life @shroombun @littlespacecastle

[loonybun]

I like to imagine faerie magic that’s used on humans has similar vibes to the myth of the lotus eaters if that makes any sense. Just a divine sense of sweetness and peace that makes you forget any worries you’ve ever had. In fact, it makes you forget a lot of things. Why go through the trouble of thinking when you don’t need to? You’re at peace now, after all.

This would probably be specifically after giving a faerie your name, not before. They can only really start to affect people based on how much power they hold over them, after all. And if they want to put your mind at rest, there’s no better way to do it. You feel taken care of, safe, and blissful.

[darkthingshappen]

Can you please continue Famous Last Words? :)

I would LOVE to continue this, and I am considering it. I just have no idea when I might get to it as I have sooo many story tabs already open right now. (Linking so I can find it later)

Famous Last Words

[ashintheairlikesnow]

🥄 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.

[clickerflight]

Manipulation

Alas! Erix is unfortunately a disabled Fae (No wings and weak powers) and he is willing to put up with a lot of ill treatment to keep any allies he can get, even if those allies might turn out to be his downfall later.

Vermillio is so so creepy.

Masterlist