#runaway whump

[diamond-flavored-whump]

Five times Whumpee snuck out, and one time Whumper caught them.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Fly by Moonlight

CW: Vaguely fantasy, hunting, possessive whumper referenced, bullet wound, guns, blood, makeshift surgery, implied dehumanization, scarring

Chapter One

-

The sky above them was an explosion of stars. With her head tilted back until it tipped against the sleeping bag, providing her the barest protection from simple dirt, she could see the Milky Way itself, winding its ghostly way from one horizon to the other. It was funny, to think that she was a part of that winding, sinuous length of endless light. 

The people who think they came from stars, she thought, must have been people who thought highly of themselves. There was nothing more incredible than this, and it seemed impossible to understand how something as amazing as stardust could coalesce into the reality of wind rushing through leaves around their campsite, the simple beauty of her own heartbeat and blood.

Alongside the universes she could imagine above her, the moon hung heavy and full. Supermoon time, it was so much larger than usual, blocking some of the stars when Anaya tried to find them. 

The moon, she thought, felt like what it was - a piece of earth thrown into space by asteroid impact. Like a mother who loses the grip of her child’s hand, and all of history had been the story of their slow reconciliation. Or maybe of the child running, always staying just ahead of her mother’s reach.

Anaya Cross laced her fingers together behind her head, her heavy, dark hair providing as much softness as any pillow. Beside her, in another sleeping bag, her boyfriend Eden had long since fallen asleep. His heavy, soft breathing and the sight of his ash-blond hair falling over his forehead was another kind of peace. Eden only slept well in the wilderness, and Anaya never slept well at all. 

Even if she didn’t sleep much, here, she could rest by watching the stars. Her eyes traced a constellation, catching on the edge of the corona borealis and following its C-shaped swing from one end to the other. 

Then, she heard a sound.

It was a faded sort of boom, as if someone in the park had set off a huge firework, one of those big mortar kinds Anaya had been terrified of as a child and still avoided today. She frowned, shifting uneasily and pushing herself up a little onto her elbows.

At first all she heard was the wind, the soft whispering of the leaves.

Then it happened again.

Boom.

Anaya took in a quick breath and sat up fully, head tipped to one side. This time, the sound was followed by a high-pitched squeal, almost a scream, but totally inhuman. Anaya’s breath caught, and she scrambled to push herself out of the sleeping bag, leaning on her knees over to shake Eden’s shoulder. “Eden-... Eden! Wake up!”

Eden groaned, slapping ineffectually at her hand, before his eyes finally blinked slowly open. They looked fogged over, still half-asleep, but he moved to sit as Anaya popped up to standing. “Wh-... what’sit?” It was all one run-on sound, hardly language. “Naya? What’ss… what time’sit?”

“I don’t know,” She answered, shifting forward slowly. Between the stars and the moon, the night around them was nearly as bright as daylight, only with a cool, almost blue tint to everything around them. “I heard something. Like a-... like a gunshot. I think. From a really fucking big gun.”

“You heard-...” Eden’s brain was still struggling to come online. He raked a hand back through his hair, leaving it standing up in wild chunks all over his head, before he started wiggling his way out of his sleeping bag, too. He stood, scratching at his stomach underneath his ratty old t-shirt, gray sweatpants hanging low on narrow hips. “A gunshot? Here? But-”

“Protected reserve, I know. But I definitely heard it. Do you think…” She trailed off. All she heard now was the wind, rushing through the trees. Only-... was it only the wind? Or was there a discordant note, crashing of something desperate running for its life?

Boom.

This time she could see Eden heard it too, his eyes widening. The sound was closer, louder, more immediate. Anaya and Eden’s gazes met, and then without a word spoken the two of them half-ran, half-walked as one to the edge of the clearing and away from the obviousness of their campsite. Eden’s car was parked at the camp lot a three-hour hike away, and they were deep within a part of the reserve no one was supposed to go to. It had seemed romantic, when they came here and chose this space, carefully marking their trail to ensure they could make it back. It had seemed like a way to get away from it all and really find peace, let Eden get some real sleep.

Now, though, it seemed to hit Anaya all at once that coming out here - alone, with only her boyfriend, with no one really aware of where they’d gone other than ‘camping’ - had been monumentally, impossibly stupid.

Anaya crouched down behind a tree, keeping the campsite in view. Woods like these could get you lost within a few feet of where you’d been, the trees so close together that they hid you from your own trail unless it was well-marked. Eden moved to be just slightly in front of her, shielding her a little.

Not that it would matter against a gun that could make a sound like that.

“Poacher?” She whispered. 

“Probably,” He whispered back. Now the crashing seemed close, and Eden’s body was warm against hers even as both of them were shivering. “But what is there even to hunt here? You can find deer anywhere in this stupid state, you don’t need-”

The answer to his question came flying out of the woods in front of them.

A huge wolf that somehow still looked half-grown and spindly, with too-long legs and giant paws, flashed through their campsite in a reddish-gray gleam lit by moonlight. Until it tripped over Anaya’s cooler full of beer and went tumbling, high-pitched whimpers and whines filling the air. Anaya jerked forward when she realized the cooler now had a red smear along the white lid, but Eden grabbed her arm to pull her back out of sight. 

“It’s bleeding!” Anaya hissed. “That poacher shot it! We should go help!”

Eden’s grip only tightened. “It’s not a dog,” He hissed back. “It’ll just attack you. Not to mention the poacher will shoot you, too. Just stay here, Naya!”

The wolf stood on shaking legs, a low soft whine in its throat. The light of the moon seemed to turn the tips of its red fur to silver, reflected in its strangely human-looking eyes. Anaya blinked at the sight of scarring around its snout, like something had been wrapped there at some point until it dug in. It limped to the edge of the clearing, tumbling hard to one side before righting itself. Blood streamed from one back leg, clumping the fur and leaving a dark stain. 

The wolf’s tongue hung from its mouth and it panted heavily even as it tried to lick at the blood and the wound beneath it, ears pricked and moving constantly. Its tail was tucked between its legs. Its nose went to the ground, picking up the scents of Anaya and Eden probably, and Anaya shivered when it growled.

The low rumble was more frightening than the sound of the gun.

At least the gunshots hadn’t been about her.

After a long pause, the wolf’s growl ended. It did what Anaya could only call taking a deep breath to steady itself, and then limped heavily away, out of the clearing in the general direction of the main hiking trails where Anaya and Eden had started their hike out here. Its nose stayed low, and Anaya heard Eden let out a breath in a rush once it was out of sight.

“Uh… what do we do now-”

Anaya clapped her hand over Eden’s mouth, shushing him and yanking him further back around the tree trunk.

The man with the gun - and holy shit, Anaya didn’t even know they made guns that big - stepped into the clearing, taking in the sight of the destroyed campsite smeared with wolf blood with a baffled, incredulous expression. He wasn’t too much older than them, maybe in his thirties, but he had a hardness to his jaw that said whatever his age, the years had definitely sucked the life out of him.

“Well… shit.” The man huffed, moving forward and using the muzzle of his gun to nudge the blood-stained cooler, lifting up the sleeping bag Eden had been in only a few moments ago. He ran a hand back over his crew cut, looking around. “Hey! Is anyone here? Anyone hurt?” The sound of concern in his voice seemed real. 

But Anaya and Eden were alone, in the woods, in the middle of nowhere. And this guy had an enormous fucking gun. They stayed silent, in the dark.

“God damn it.” The poacher sighed, looking down at the sleeping bags. “Shit shit shit. If he killed somebody… that little shit. Fucking campers on our land. Bet he chased them off. I’ll have to call Bill and report it. He’s gonna kill me when he sees Rusty got out, let alone that he made a mess out of campers… if they find bodies on our land again, we are going to have the government up our fucking ass…”

He pulled out a compass and looked at it, then looked ahead, eyes scanning the ground. He must have seen some of the wolf’s blood on a leaf in some underbrush, because he moved forward confidently then. He went through the clearing, from one side to the other, and then was gone. 

Anaya and Eden waited until the sound of the man moving through the forest had faded into the distance, and then looked at each other. 

“... Did we go too far and end up on private land?” Anaya asked.

At the same time, Eden said, “Did he say ‘if they find bodies on our land again?’”

Both of them stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Then, as if they’d come to some agreement that didn’t need words, they moved out to the wreckage of the campsite. Anaya rolled up the sleeping bags while Eden checked on the small cooler, wiped the rest of the blood off of it with a shudder, and then shifted it back into the heavy pack he’d carried out here. Anaya felt the tension rising between them, until it was tight enough it might snap. Her heart pounded so hard it found its way up her throat, making her occasionally stop to catch her breath. The two of them pulled their socks on and then laced up their hiking boots after. Neither even bothered to dress in daytime clothing. Their sweatpants and t-shirts seemed like enough, for now. 

The hike back was silent and slow.

They put one foot carefully in front of the other, following the markings Anaya had left wrapped around trees in non-obvious places. She undid each and every colorful ribbon, packing them back away. Taking back everything they’d brought with them. No sign they’d ever been here at all, ideally.

She found herself wondering where the park ended and private land began. There’d been no signs, no warnings. Not any that they saw, anyway. Then again, it’s not like you could mark every square inch of a wild forest like this one.

Above them, the moon hung heavy. When its light cut through the canopy overhead, it made everything otherworldly and beautiful.

If only Anaya could appreciate it, and not take every quiet step sure she’d see the end of a gun between her eyes the moment she looked up.

At some point, they got close enough to the trail for cell phone signal to come back, and her phone buzzed with a handful of missed messages. Nothing that suggested anything big had happened while they were out of reach. She didn’t dare check it - not yet. Not until she felt sure that the light from her screen wouldn’t draw in either an injured, probably hostile wolf and a healthy, definitely hostile guy with a gun.

She kept cycling her thoughts back to the sight of the thing. Something had been off about it, but she didn’t know enough about guns to even begin to know what. Hell, she didn’t know enough about guns to even know if anything was actually off, or if she was just thinking of movie-guns and not understanding that the real thing was different.

Exhaustion dragged at the edges of her mind, even as adrenaline kept her so wired that she knew she couldn’t possibly have fallen asleep even if they simply laid down right here. Hours passed, Eden and Anaya saying little to each other. They heard the boom just once more, far enough away that they felt themselves finally able to relax.

Wherever the guy had tracked the injured wolf, it wasn’t in the direction they were going. 

Finally, they stumbled back out onto the trail. 

Anaya checked her phone, as surreptitiously as she could.

It was almost three in the morning, and they had another good two hours of hiking on the trail before they got to the parking lot. 

“I say we sleep in the car,” Eden said, voice heavy and husky. When Anaya glanced over at him, his half-lidded eyes reminded her of a sleepy kitten, and she found herself smiling, briefly overwhelmed with love for him. He frowned back at her. “What?”

“You’re cute,” She said. He shook his head and started walking again, but she caught the edge of his smile before he turned to hide it from her.

“Pretty sure the T was supposed to make me handsome, not cute,” He said over his shoulder as he started walking again.

Anaya had to stifle a laugh - talking might be okay, might be safe, but laughter carried further. Especially Anaya’s laughter, which had a tendency to be too loud, according to her mother. Too loud, attention-taking. Just like all her emotions. “Well, you’re definitely handsome,” Anaya said brightly, falling in behind him. “You’re just also cute. You were handsome before the T, too, by the way.”

He didn’t say anything, but his shoulders straightened a little, and she caught the edge of a flush to his cheeks.

Her feet ached by the time they had Eden’s car in view, the ancient Subaru with its huge trunk thanks to the removed backseat a white gleam in the pinkish light of early dawn. The moon was still visible, just now beginning to fade as sunlight overtook it, wiped it out. Each throb was in time with her pulse, and Anaya’s brain seemed to have become mush at some point.

They could sleep in the back of Eden’s car, if they made it to a safe parking lot or something in town. Maybe the diner where they had parked before they came up here, those people had seemed pretty cool about it. 

Eden came to a sudden stop, and Anaya walked into him so hard the two of them both stumbled, Eden with a huffed breath, an oof that any other day would have been funny. But now Anaya just groaned. It better not be the poacher having found them. She was too damn tired to deal with that, or even be scared of it anymore.

At least if he shoots me I can get some damn rest, she thought.

Out loud, she only mumbled, “What?”

Eden swallowed. Anaya could hear it. Something about that woke her back up all at once, sent brand new adrenaline flooding through her. Her head began to pound in time with her feet and her heart. Would anything not hurt by the end of today?

“There’s something under our car,” Eden said, voice hushed. 

Anaya stiffened. “The wolf?”

Eden took one step forward, and then another. He squinted. “... No. I think it’s… a person.”

“A what?”

Who would be out here? Thanks to flooding on the more well-known trails, this park had been more or less empty of tourists. It was one of the reasons Eden and Anaya had chosen this for their off-trail campsite. Eden moved slowly forward, and Anaya followed him. Once she got closer, though, she moved more quickly, dropping her bag next to the car and moving into a crouch.

The sound of her pack hitting the pavement made the boy curled up under the car flinch, his arms jerking to cover his head with his hands, knees nearly to his chin. Anaya caught a glimpse of reddish-brown hair through his fingers, a swath of pale skin marked with brown freckles at the shoulders, the tip of his nose.

“Hello?” Anaya whispered, reaching slowly out. Her fingertips just touched the boy when his eyes snapped open and he looked at her with wild, animal terror.

His eyes were the same color as the wolf’s. 

His hair was the same color as the wolf’s fur had been, reddish brown, maybe tipped with some gray.

His left leg had a wound blown right through it - bullet wound, Anaya thought a little wildly, I’m looking at the entrance and the exit’s at the back, he’s lucky it didn’t hit the artery there - and the blood was… everywhere.

The boy’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a useless snarl. His teeth were flat, human, except for maybe his incisors being a little too long, a little too sharp. He had scars marked across his face, around his neck, all over his arms. Some old, simply silk-soft skin marked in risen lines, some fresher, still bright red. A couple even looked like they’d been bleeding recently, too. He made a sound that Anaya only realized after a beat was an attempt to growl.

“... This is the wolf,” Anaya said, voice low. “Eden… Eden, this is the wolf.”

“What? No. That’s clearly a dude. The poacher must have seen him and shot him.”

“No, this is-... his eyes Eden-”

“That’s not a wolf, Naya. End of story. That is a dumbass teenager who did dumbass things. Somebody’s probably looking for him.”

Anaya thought of the poacher’s confusion, his angry concern. “... Yeah, somebody probably is.”

Eden dropped into a crouch beside her, casually pulling out the knife he always had on him, flicking it so the blade showed. “Naya, something’s wrong with this kid.”

The boy’s eyes went to the gleam of sharp metal and he whined, curling up tighter. Anaya frowned, looking at his leg. The blood. The wound. The way the boy’s skin was ash-pale under his freckles. The scars, half of them rough but the other half precise.

Knife-blade scars. She had some old ones herself, although hers had been self-inflicted.

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, felt it trembling under her touch. She could barely reach him, he was so far under the car. “Hey.” She gentled her voice as much as she could, rubbing lightly. Goosebumps rose where her fingertips went, but the trembling seemed to settle a little. “Hey, kid. You’re… you’re really hurt. We’re gonna call someone-”

The boy scrambled backwards away. “No!” His voice came out hoarse, as if he wasn’t used to speaking - or speaking with a human mouth, anyway. “No! Don’t! Don’t call!” He made it to the other side of the car, scrambling to his feet. Anaya went to chase him, but in the end she didn’t have to - as soon as he tried to put weight on his leg, he went down hard, scraping the palms of his hands on the pavement and letting out a pained cry.

Anaya swallowed. “Eden-”

“I’ll call 911-”

“No,” she whispered. “He’s scared of that. Let’s just… let’s just put him in the back of the car, yeah?”

Eden paused. “Naya, are you fucking out of your mind? Where are we gonna take him? He needs a hospital.”

“Or a vet clinic,” She muttered, ignoring the look Eden gave her at the dark joke. “No, let’s just. Okay, let’s just… we have our first aid kit. You know how to do stitches-”

“Stitches, sure, but I’m not exactly qualified to treat wounds like that.”

“Try. Let’s get him into the car. Hey, kid? Kid, hey.” Anaya went to the crumpled heap of teenager, grasping onto his arm. He shivered and tried weakly to pull away, but between the pain and the blood loss, he wasn’t exactly able to put up much of a fight. Eden opened the trunk of the car and threw in their packs while Anaya helped the boy to stand. She could hear Eden laying down the towels and sleeping bags, opening up the first aid kit.

That’s why she loved him. He might think she’d lost her mind on this, but he’d still follow her lead.

The injured boy gripped onto her once he was upright, his eyes dancing in terror from Eden to Anaya and back again.

“Don’t,” He whispered. “Don’t.”

“We’re just going to get you bandaged up and something to eat,” Anaya said, voice soothing, easing him into the trunk until he could lay down in there. “Then we can talk, okay? First off, we need to stop the bleeding.”

Those odd eyes stared at her, but he laid down on his side slowly. Anaya had been vaguely aware the boy was naked, but only now did it hit her that the boy didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care. 

“I’m Anaya,” She said, softly, taking his hand and holding it while Eden took a wet cloth and began to wipe away the blood to try and get a better look at the wound. “I’m Anaya Cross, and this is my boyfriend Eden Yarrow. We’re going to help you.”

“There’s no exit wound,” Eden muttered, looking at the backside of the boy’s thigh. “He needs a surgeon, Naya-”

“Well, good thing you trained to be one, huh?"

"Yeah, before I quit residency-"

"Eden, just... can you get the bullet out?”

Eden exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Probably. It's a pretty clean wound. I definitely shouldn’t, but…”

“Well, try.” She turned back to the boy, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. The kid stared at her like she’d grown a second head, but he didn’t pull his hand back. He just… watched her, with those strange canine eyes. “Hey. We’re gonna get the bullet out of you, and then we’ll help you get somewhere with people.”

“No,” He said again. His eyes moved from one to the other. “No… people.”

Eden’s eyes closed. He muttered something under his breath that Anaya didn’t quite hear. Then he moved to dig around in the first aid kit again. 

“Okay. Well, we’ll figure that bit out as we go, then. Can you tell us your name?”

She thought of the poacher mentioning Rusty.

The boy was quiet for a long, drawn-out silence broken only by a hiss when Eden used a sanitizing wipe on the wound, cleaning it out again as best he could. Finally, almost under his breath, he whispered, “Misae.”

“Missy?” Eden said, nose wrinkling. “Your name is Missy?”

The boy’s odd eyes narrowed. “Misae,” He repeated, a little louder. Mih-say-eh. Some of the gravelly hoarseness was leaving his voice, the more he spoke. Anaya wondered if he didn’t speak often. 

“That man with the gun called you Rusty, I think,” Anaya said, keeping her own voice gentle.

“... their name for me.” Misae hissed through his teeth, lips pulled back in a snarl again as Eden began to probe into the wound, eyes closing tightly. Tears leaked fro the corners of his eyes. Anaya gave him both her hands and he gripped on tight enough to hurt, making a sound that was clearly meant to be a canine whine. “Not… my name.”

“But Misae is your name.”

“Y… Yes.” His head lowered until the top of it, the shaggy reddish hair, pressed against her. He kept pushing against her, until she twisted one hand free and laid it there, scratching her fingers against his scalp. His whining softened, then. It was all so terribly… doglike.

No.

Wolf.

Anaya tried not to look as his leg twitched and oozed blood even as Eden carefully worked one of the tools he kept on hand into the wound, searching for the bullet. Misae didn’t answer at first. She leaned over, hoping her voice could carry through the pain. “It’s okay, honey. You’re going to be okay.”

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Misae groaned, finally laying his head directly in her lap. She could feel his tears soaking into her sweatpants, the hitching of his breath as he fought not to sob. His voice was a whisper she barely heard, twisted around his pained, frightened whimpers.

“Th-thank… thank you…”

“Found it!” Eden shouted, triumphant. He might have been reluctant to do this, but there was a reason he’d worked so hard to fill his first aid kit with anything you might need to stay alive in the wilderness when medical care was too far to get to in time. There was a reason he’d trained as a surgeon. He was good at this, he always had been. He wiggled the little tool, making Misae cry harder, but then something bloody and shimmering beneath the red came out, and Eden dropped it on a towel beside Misae. “Intact, even. Nice.”

Eden was focused on getting the wound closed up and stitches sewn. Anaya though, watched blood slide along the surface of the bullet, too big, a terrifying size. The gleam of the metal, though, along with the strange runes carved into it, made her eyebrows furrow. “... Eden.”

“Mmmn?” He dipped the needle, pulled it through skin. Anaya knew if she looked she’d faint dead away, so she kept her eyes on the bullet. On the shine. 

“That’s… that hunter shot him with silver.”

Eden stilled and looked up, his eyes catching on the bullet, too. Then shifting over to Misae, who was shaking like a leaf, eyes open now, wide and almost sightless. In shock, Anaya thought, not that she knew for sure or even really understood what being in shock meant. But it reminded her of people going into shock in the movies, on television. Eden’s eyes moved to meet Anaya’s.

“Once I finish stitching him up,” He said, voice low and calm, “We drive this car as far away from here as we can get before we stop.”

“We’re taking him with us.” 

“... Naya-”

Anaya’s jaw set and she raised her chin. “We’re taking Misae.”

Eden looked down at the boy, who didn’t seem to hear or even see the two of them any longer. Then he huffed and went back to what he was doing, sewing slow, careful, precise stitches even as he had to continually wipe away blood, too. “Fine. We go as far as we can with him, and then we… think about what we do next. Figure out how to call his family or something.”

“Fair.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They paused, and smiled at each other.

Then Misae whimpered, and Anaya realized she’d stopped scratching his head. She started up again, and felt some of his shaking settle once more. “Do you have family?” Anaya asked, trying to distract him as Eden finished up. “Someone looking for you?”

Misae was silent for so long that she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her.

Then he answered, voice low, “No family. Not… anymore."

"Did you run away from them?"

"No.” Misae's body shuddered, and Anaya found herself rubbing her thumb in little circles just behind one ear. "No."

"Then-"

"Dead. Everyone... is dead. But me."

-

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whump Prompt 115

Write something inspired by this concept:

Whumpee is turning into a monster and runs away from caretaker, afraid that they'll hurt or even kill caretaker if they stay around.

Caretaker searches desperately for whumpee, only to find them days later in the forest, huddled up bloody and feverish after their transformation.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #27

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: oral dub-con, implied non-con, starvation, violence

Master and his friends had passed out, finally. After hours and hours of drinking and sex and entertainment, they had fallen asleep. 

It was late, but he couldn’t bring himself to rest. He lay on the floor, naked and cold, dried cum sticky on his sore thighs.

He stared up at the ceiling. His throat hurt, angry bruises blossoming over his skin. One of Master’s friends, Mr. Horneswood, had slammed his head against the floor, and it was only now that his vision had quit fading in and out and his nosebleed had stopped.

Master had never let them be so violent with him before. Beatings and getting choked was nothing new, and Master had chastised them for going too far several times. But not today.

He really thought they were going to kill him this time. He’d never passed out from being strangled before, and they had never hit his head until now, much less slamming it into the hard marble floor. Twice.

Hunger rumbled in his stomach.

He turned his head to see the table. It was half covered in near empty bottles and glasses, but there was food at the end.

He licked his lips. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and if everyone was asleep…

He slowly got up, wincing as he went. Master wouldn’t notice if a few rolls went missing. 

Master had put out so much food, and his friends were more interested in getting drunk, so nearly all of of it was untouched.

He ate cheeses and fruit, pastries and rolls, and even dared to sneak some of the delicious roasted duck.

It wasn’t until he was full, sitting next to the table, that he realized.

Master had forgotten his chains.

Usually Master made sure he was in shackles when his friends came to visit, just to be certain he couldn’t get away from their lust.

Not tonight. Tonight he was unrestrained. He hadn’t even noticed until now.

He looked back at Master and his friends. They were still completely passed out, sprawled out on couches and slumped in armchairs.

He could run. There was nothing stopping him.

Nothing, except… what if Master caught him? He would be so angry. Master would beat him to death if he left.

They’ll kill you if you stay, said a tiny part of him. You know they will. You can’t keep doing this.

He bit his lip. Master was all he knew, his everything. It was the only thing he was good at; serving as his slave was his entire purpose. It was what he was made for.

What else could there possibly be?

You are going to die here.

The tiny part was right.

He grabbed his discarded clothes, tugging on the threadbare shirt, boxers, and pants Master had allowed him. 

He stole a cloak off the coat rack and ran out the front door, pulling the hood over his hair.

He ran, and ran, and ran, and his legs hurt and his head pounded but it was better than death and blood and Master.

___________________

He should have stolen some shoes. He limped along, blood from the pads of his feet staining his trail. 

Dawn had come and gone, but he didn’t stop moving. Couldn’t stop moving.

He avoided the roads, instead sticking to the woods. He couldn’t risk being seen yet. Master had horses, and money, and might pay someone to look for him.

It was a hot day. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked his clothes, the salt stinging the cuts on his legs courtesy of the wilderness.

He tripped over a stone early in the night, and torn a toenail clean off, which hurt like hell.

His legs were sore too, knees on fire and thighs chafing from the dried cum and fabric rubbing the skin. 

Maybe it would be worth it to find some water and rest.

___________________

After hours of trekking through the woods, he heard running water. He picked up the pace, jogging towards the sound.

It was a small creek, secluded and quiet. Good.

He stripped off his clothes and waded in. It was freezing cold, goosebumps forming on his skin. He crouched down and drank some of the water, soothing his dusty throat.

He splashed some of the water on his face, wiping away the sweat. He washed off the best he could, and crawled out of the creek. There was a flat rock nearby, and he laid the cloak down on top of it. 

A few hours of rest couldn’t hurt.

___________________

He followed the creek after his nap. It would get to a river eventually, and maybe lead to a town where he could beg for some scraps.

He should have stolen the rest of the food at Master’s house. Idiot.

The creek did get bigger, but instead of bringing him to a river, it ran by a traveler’s campsite. The road must be close.

The campsite had just been used, fresh but cold ashes in the firepit, and fresh horse manure still buzzing with flies.

There were berry bushes nearby (unfortunately inedible ones), and he was struck with a thought.

His white hair was identifiable. No one had white hair, Master said so. Master said he was so pretty with white hair. It was why he was allowed to exist; it made him good enough to live despite being a stupid slave who couldn’t do things right.

Master could find him if his hair was still white.

He pulled off the berries, crushing them in his hands. He slathered his hair with them, staining the white to brown. Much better. He pulled his hood back up and followed the horse tracks to the road.

___________________

The road led to a city, and he kept his head down passing through the gates. The guards didn’t even look at him.

There was a tavern just next to the gates, and the smell of food made him hesitate. It was a busy place, even had some stables attached.

He bit his lip.

He didn’t have any money. He went around the stables, and there was a dumpster out back. He peered into the trash, but he couldn’t see anything he could eat. Damn.

The back door to the tavern opened, and he backed away. Not fast enough, because the tavern owner spotted him immediately.

He scrambled away, but she grabbed him by the arm.

“What’re you doing?” She growled. “You a nasty little thief?” She shook his arm, and he whimpered, shaking his head.

“I- I was just hungry-”

She let go of him and he stumbled backwards into the ground. “‘M sorry! I just wanted to look in your trash!” He started to cry.

“Hmph.” She crossed her arms, staring him down.

“Please don’t call the guard,” he begged, sobbing. “I’ll go away, I swear.”

“I don’t like beggars,” she said. “So come here.”

She was going to hit him, and he deserved it for bothering her. He shakily got to his feet, and limped forward.

“There’s a pile of dishes in the sink. Scrub ‘em.”

“W-what?”

“You scrub the plates,” she pointed at him, “and you get food. That way you ain’t beggin’.”

“Thank you! Tha-”

“Shut up.” She turned and walked inside, and he followed.

There was in fact a sink piled full of dishes, and he got to work scrubbing them clean. The kitchen was hot, but he didn’t dare take off his cloak. He was so hungry he was lightheaded, and the smell of food was torture to the gnawing ache in his belly.

The dishes kept coming, and he ignored the strange looks from the wait staff.

After a few hours, the tavern owner handed him a package wrapped with paper.

“Get out.”

He left without argument, opening the package and eating as he walked.

The sandwich was the best thing he ever tasted.

___________________

The second town he came across, the innkeeper let him sleep in the stables in exchange for scrubbing stains out of sheets. 

The third city tossed him out before he could offer anything, and he stole some apples from an orchard by the road before getting scared off by barking dogs.

He had a bad feeling about this next town. 

The innkeeper was at the counter, and it was not busy at all. It creeped him out. “How many nights?” asked the keeper, a flat tone to his voice as he scribbled in his ledger.

“I, um. I don’t have any money,” he admitted, “but um, is there anything I can do for you?”

The innkeeper slammed the book shut, and he jumped. The innkeeper looked him up and down, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m just hungry,” he said weakly, “do you have any scraps?”

“Nope. Get out.” 

“Please,” he tried again. “I’ll do anything.”

The innkeeper stood up. “I said leave.” He began to shove him outside, and he stumbled, bare heels digging into the wood.

“I’ll blow you,” he blurted, and the innkeeper paused. He held his breath. Why did he offer that?

The innkeeper grabbed him by the arm, dragging him into the back.

The innkeeper tossed him across the room. He swallowed, his mouth going dry. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The innkeeper stalked forward, and he dropped to his knees, tongue lolling out. The innkeeper unbuckled his belt and he knew what to do.

The innkeeper was rough and impatient, and he let the innkeeper fuck into his throat. He just wanted it over. The man grunted, finishing into his mouth, and he was hungry enough to swallow the cum without hesitation.

“Good enough,” said the man, tucking himself back into his pants, and relief flooded him. “Wait here.”

He got a hunk of cheese and a loaf of bread for the trouble.

“Next time offer your ass,” said the innkeeper with a nasty grin, “and maybe I’ll let you sleep the night.”

He scrambled for the door, laughter trailing behind him. There wasn’t going to be a next time.

___________________

There was a next time.

There were several next times, all of which he tried to avoid but couldn’t if he wanted to eat.

He didn’t sleep in the cities anymore, too scared after someone forced themselves on him while he slept exposed in the stables.

That time, the innkeeper was even angry to find him still in the hay the next morning, and had used a horsewhip to punish and chase him out.

He trudged along the road.

Gods, he was so hungry. He felt faint, a chill to his bones despite the sun beating down on him.

He’d been heading north the whole time, and now the cities and towns were few and far between.

The last stop was pleasant, the woman who owned the lodge only asking him to sweep the floor in exchange for a bowl of chicken and rice.

That was a week ago.

The berry bushes along the road were bare now, the birds plucking them empty. He chewed on tree leaves and ate dandelions when he could, but it did little for his stomach.

Please, he prayed to the gods, I know none of you care, but please.

Maybe he should have stayed with Master.

He shook the thought from his head. Anything was better than Master.

Even if it was starving to death in the wilderness.

___________________

The road became thin and rough. It narrowed down to a single cart wide and he wondered if he had walked to the end. But over the horizon was a blurry shape beneath the setting sun, and he dared to hope it was either a village or that he was finally dying and was hallucinating.

He kept walking.

It was a village, with an inn.

He stumbled through the door as nightfall fell.

The tavernkeeper was at the counter, and there was a small crowd in the dining room.

“Please,” he slurred, ready to offer whatever was left of him.

But the tavernkeeper held up a hand to stop him.

“I’ve heard of you,” he said, and his heart sank. Did Master know too? “You’ll do anything for a meal and a bed for the night, right?”

Not necessarily a bed, but he nodded, the effort making his head pound. 

“I want a private conversation with you in the morning,” said the keeper, his expression hard to read. “That’s all. I'll even throw in breakfast afterwards.”

He stared at the tavern keeper.

“Yes, sir,” he rasped. No one had ever offered him breakfast. Was it a trick? Too keep him here longer, so that Master would come and drag him away?

The keeper gestured for him to sit at the bar, and disappeared into the kitchen.

He returned quickly with a bowl of stew and a crust of bread, and, of all things, a mug of warm cider. 

He never had cider before. Master never allowed him to drink.

The tavern keeper told him where his room (a whole room? with a bed? and a lock?) was, and left him alone to eat.

The food was amazing, and he had to stop himself from scarfing it down and making himself sick. He’d made that mistake before, and completely lost his meal. He remembered crying over the vomit.

The bed was just as good as the food, but he couldn’t close his eyes.

What if the innkeeper told Master where he was? How long would it take Master to come for him?

He rolled over in the bed.

Surely the tavernkeeper wanted more than just talking.

If he were smart, he’d sneak out before dawn. But the keeper promised breakfast, and he wasn’t smart.

He couldn’t pass up two meals in a row. It was too tempting.

He thought about the mysterious generosity of the cider, and the sweet taste of the apples used to make it.

This could be his last night alive before he died by his Master’s hands.

He cried himself into a fitful sleep.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda @loserwithsyle

[whumpetywhump]

Kam Pood Tee Hai Pai - Ep. 1

Requested by @applesakura

[chaotic-orphan]

A Benignant Mischief (2)

Read part one here

*~*~*~*~*

The nice soldier brought Cosimo to a stop beside a black horse, with a silky black mane and strong taut muscles wrapped in a shining black coat. The horse let out a huff of hello to the pair.

Cosimo smiled and said: “hello.”

The horse huffed again and turned his head away. Cosimo felt eyes on him and turned his head to the man beside him, who looked down on him with an expression Cosimo couldn’t quite decipher.

“What is your name?” The man asked softly.

Cosimo bristled at the question. “Does it matter if I am to die anyway?”

The man’s eyes turned sad again. “My name is Henrik,” said the kind man with a smile.

“Henrik,” Cosimo repeated, taking in the man’s appearance for the first time. He looked like a Henrik. He had sandy coloured hair trimmed neatly, shaved at the sides leaving a two-tiered effect to it. He was tan with kind blue eyes and rough stubble along his strong jaw.

Cosimo didn’t know why he said, “my name is Cosimo,” maybe just so someone would remember his name before he was executed.

Henrik slapped a hand onto Cosimo’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “Nice to meet you, Cosimo. I’m sorry I can’t shake your hand. I’m afraid we don’t have steps so is it okay if I lift you onto Ebony here?”

Cosimo nodded. Henrik stepped behind Cosimo and placed two hands on Cosimo’s waist, hoisting him up as if he weighed nothing. Cosimo helped as much as he could with his arms trapped behind his back and it only took one try for him to swing a leg over the black horse’s wide back.

Cosimo bristled when the horse whinnied, falling back onto his hands, hissing at the iron biting into his skin, his chest rising and falling faster than autumn leaves in a strong gust of wind. Henrik laughed from below. Cosimo’s wide eyes went to Henrik’s blue ones.

Henrik had a hand on the horse’s thick neck, stroking it gently. “I think that means he likes you,” said Henrik kindly. Cosimo glanced back at the horse while Henrik climbed up. He put his hands around Cosimo’s waist and Cosimo flinched.

“Hey what’re—”

“Is this your first time on a horse?” Henrik asked from behind. Even without seeing his face Cosimo could hear the smile in his voice. Cosimo glanced down at Henrik’s hands to see them holding a piece of leather in a strong grip.

“No,” Cosimo said too quickly.

“Ah,” said Henrik, not at all believing the boy. “Well then you know that you have to squeeze your thighs to stay upright, don’t you? And don’t worry about falling because my arms are holding you in on the sides.”

Cosimo swallowed. “Yes, I know that. Thank you, Henrik.”

“No problem, Cosimo,” said Henrik and then clicked his tongue against his teeth. The beast started moving under him and Cosimo squeezed his thighs to the horse’s back in a panic. He leaned his weight forward slightly to properly balance, keeping his hands on the leather that acted as a seat for Cosimo and Henrik.

It took a while for them to get out of the forest. Every turn and step away from the boy Cosimo had harboured in the elfbow twisted another knot into his stomach and he worried he wouldn’t be able to find his way back if he escaped.

When…

When he escaped.

By the time they broke through the tree line the sun was almost at its highest point in the sky. The sky was stark in its difference to how it was yesterday when Cosimo was racing through the forest. It was a blanket of bright blue that had fluffy clouds sewn into the silk of the expanse.

“How far are we away from your kingdom?” Cosimo asked a little while after they had emerged from the forest.

“Technically, we are in the Kingdom now. That forest is a part of it.”

“Oh,” Cosimo hummed, chest deflating.

They lapsed into another silence, the only sound was the other soldiers chatting behind and in front of them, the muted sound of the horses on grass and the birds that could be heard in the breeze of the beautiful morning.

“I can give you a brief history of the place if you’d like,” Henrik said. The lie died on Cosimo’s tongue before he could voice it. It would be better if he knew what he was getting into before arriving at the palace with no idea of how anything is done.

Cosimo gave a sharp nod and Henrik began. “The kingdom is Oskana. One of the oldest kingdoms of men to date.”

Cosimo heard of Oskana before in court. He heard the elders talk of it with passionate hatred and low voices.

“It has a tumultuous past with your people,” Henrik said conversationally. Cosimo looked over his shoulder at Henrik, his eyes meeting blue ones.

“How do you know my people? How do you know what I am?”

Henrik didn’t answer. Instead, he flicked the tip of Cosimo’s ear. “Hey!” Cosimo yelped, but Henrik was laughing at his reaction, his eyes crinkled into half arches with mirth. Cosimo felt a blush climb his cheeks at the sound. Henrik’s laughter was hearty and rich, and it was a pleasant sound. Comforting.

When Henrik’s laughter died down, he turned his head and pointed at his own ear. It was rounded at the top, while Cosimo’s extended into a point. “Oh,” Cosimo said softly. He didn’t know that there was a difference in his ears to humans.

“You mustn’t have ever seen a human before,” said Henrik softly. A shadow crossed his face, curving the corner of his lips down as his eyes became a little glazed. “I’m sorry this is your first impression of us.”

Cosimo didn’t say anything in reply. He just turned back to face ahead again and said, “you were telling me the history.”

“Yes,” Henrik said. “I was. The noble family that is head of state are the Doukas. A very kind family, I grew up with the King.”

“You did?” Cosimo asked, his voice rising in pitch. He cleared his throat when Henrik chuckled. Honestly Cosimo was just surprised that Henrik could grow up with someone in royalty, if he grew up with the King then that must mean that the king would be in similar age to Henrik, somewhere in his late twenties.

“Yes, I did.”

“What is he like?”

“Magnificent,” said Henrik in earnest. “His name is Nikolas, the oldest of four. Though you’d swear he was born in the slums of the lower city with how he acts.”

Cosimo was kind of horrified at that. “He behaves like commoners?”

“Yes.”

“But he is the King?”

“Yes. It’s hard to explain, perhaps it’s different where you’re from. In Oskana, it is a breath of fresh air to not have a king with a poker up his ar—” Henrik cut himself off and said, “uh, well. Ahem. Rear end.”

Cosimo’s face morphed into one of horror, turning abruptly in his seat to face Henrik with wide eyes. “You impale your Royalty?!” He heard that humans were vicious, but to do that to their own kind. Never mind their royal families.

Henrik, to Cosimo’s terror, let out a hearty bellow of a laugh at Cosimo’s horror. “No. No, dear boy. It’s an expression.”

“Expression?” Cosimo repeated.

“Yes. An expression, like a figure of speech. Trying to paint a picture with words so you understand the essence of what I am trying to explain.”

“So, you don’t impale your royalty through their rear ends?”

“No,” Henrik laughed. “But can you imagine how uncomfortable that would be?”

Cosimo nodded, turning to face ahead again: he could certainly picture the pain and general discomfort that would cause. “Yes. It sounds horrible.”

“Right. So many kings and queens of other nations and kingdoms in the human world are horrible and have a metaphorical poker up their… rear end.”

“You humans speak strangely.”

“I suppose we do,” Henrik hummed. “Now where were we?”

“You were describing the king.”

“Right, yes. Niko.” Cosimo scrunched his nose at the informal way Henrik spoke of his King, it wasn’t normal. He should at least use a title or his full name. The way Henrik spoke of him made him sound like he was a brother more than a King, the general of his army. The strength behind Oskana’s supposed greatness that Henrik spoke of.

“He is strong,” said Henrik, pulling Cosimo from his thoughts. “Not just physically strong, but dependable strong. Very level-headed and wise. He treats people well and under his rule Oskana has never been more prosperous.”

The fondness flowing from Henrik’s description warmed something in Cosimo’s chest that was instantly crushed with guilt.

He had no right to bask in the bond of brothers when he had left his all alone with a fox no less! The elfbow would protect them, but the elfbow can’t calm a fever or calm the boy down if he were to wake frantic, searching for Cosimo who wouldn’t come.

Cosimo in his brash foolishness had doomed them both.

“Ah,” said Henrik. “Look there now, just ahead and to the left, we’re coming up to my favourite view of the city.”

Cosimo obeyed mutely, trepidation weighing heavy on his chest. He half expected to see dead people like him with pointed ears lining the road to the city. Silently worried that Henrik maybe wasn’t the man he sounded like, and he was just pacifying Cosimo the entire way to his blood-soaked death to make sure he wasn’t difficult the journey there.

Cosimo swallowed when they passed emerged from a small line of trees over a hill and Henrik pulled the reins to stop Ebony in his tracks.

Cosimo couldn’t stifle the gasp when he saw the city. It was busy, people bustling through the streets that spread out in a peculiar shape that reminded Cosimo more of a tree root than a city he was used to. Natural, winding and knotted in parts, but that wasn’t what caught his awe. It was the giant palace at the end of the streets that glistened in the sunlight like crystallised bone.

“Yeah,” said Henrik with a small sigh. “I get that feeling every-time I see it too.”

Cosimo couldn’t stifle the gasp when he saw the city. It was busy, people bustling through the streets that spread out in a peculiar shape that reminded Cosimo more of a tree root than a city he was used to. Natural, winding and knotted in parts, but that wasn’t what caught his awe. It was the giant palace at the end of the streets that glistened in the sunlight like crystallised bone.

“Yeah,” said Henrik with a small sigh. “I get that feeling every-time I see it too.”

There were no dead people with pointed ears either, which was a good thing for Cosimo. All the same Henrik draped a hood over Cosimo’s head. Cosimo went to turn but the action caught his wrists and instead he hissed at the burning of the metal on his flesh. Cosimo swallowed a cry, darting his gaze to the sky to stop a tear from escaping his eye.

Henrik steadied him, shushing him gently and said: “it’s just to hide your ears. People here don’t take too kindly to elves like you, Cosimo.”

“Why?” Cosimo asked through gritted teeth, the pain slowly diminishing as Henrik clicked his teeth with his tongue and Ebony took off again down to the city.

Henrik hummed in reply. “I was giving you a history of Oskana,” he began, words measured. “I need to tell you about why we greet your people with iron chains when we meet you.”

Cosimo swallowed a lump in his throat but didn’t speak as Henrik continued his tale.

“The people with a poker up their rear ends, the horrible people — well, Niko’s father was one of them. He was rude, mean, nasty to his people. He treated them like cannon fodder more than subjects.”

Cosimo didn’t really know what cannon fodder meant but he didn’t question it.

“Difficult man to get on with, to be honest. Hateful and paranoid. He saw enemies everywhere, even where there weren’t any. The woods we found you in — did you notice the traces of Elven society there?”

Cosimo said “yes.”

“Hmm. Well, there used to be a court of elves there. A very peaceful people, they never bothered anyone, but Niko’s father… he thought they were bad people. Plotting to overthrow him on his throne. He sent his men to slaughter them while they slept.”

Cosimo stiffened. The king’s men… he sent his men… like— like Henrik—

“Niko and I were only ten at the time, and when Niko heard of what his father did… it changed him. He vowed that day to be different from him, welcome everyone with open arms.”

“These infernal chains feel quite welcoming,” said Cosimo darkly.

“Of course, it didn’t go as smoothly as that. The elves retaliated in anger and grief. However, they didn’t attack anyone in the city. The nearest court banished all humans from its court.”

“As they should have,” Cosimo said with righteous conviction.

“And when the humans were setting up camp in the forest, the elves hunted them through the trees for sport.”

Cosimo’s chest deflated. “How… how do you know they did that?”

“Because they left one person alive, a child. The elves forced the girl to watch as her parents were murdered in front of her eyes and told her to relay a message to the King.”

Cosimo suddenly felt very cold at the story. Elves wouldn’t do that, they… they don’t kill people in their court. It is the greatest sin to upset a guest, let alone banish them from a court and hunt them.

Although, a quiet voice in the back of Cosimo’s mind spoke up, if they were expelled from the court’s jurisdiction then all rules were upheld if they were slaughtered away from court.

“What message?” Cosimo asked in a quiet voice.

“That if the humans wanted a war with the elves, they would have far more orphaned children than a single child. To stop the bloodshed, that the elves simply repaid blood for blood,” there was something sad in Henrik’s voice as he spoke. Something Cosimo couldn’t quite place. “Of course, the king didn’t accept it and an all-out war ensued.”

“Must have been a short war,” said Cosimo, more to himself than Henrik. Henrik let out a breath of air, one he held in his chest for a beat that Cosimo recognised contained far more pain than he could imagine.

“Yes,” Henrik replied, “but it felt like a lifetime.”

Cosimo didn’t want to ask how it ended, but he had to. He had to know why he was being taken away from the forest against his will, why he was being given a history lesson on horseback as they rode through the capital of a country that hated elves. Hated him.

“How did it end?”

Henrik hesitated. Cosimo heard the hitch in his voice, the pause spoke more than words he could speak. Cosimo regretted asking. He was being insensitive. Henrik was nothing but kind to him, and Cosimo was asking difficult questions like an insolent child.

“The war got bloody, and far too personal… far too quickly,” Henrik said, his voice taking on a more sombre note. “Niko’s father, the King, he found out that the pers— the elf who ordered the humans to be banished and hunted was the King of the Elven court. He knew that the King had a son, and so he sent an assassin into the court to murder the boy in his sleep.”

Cosimo frowned, there was something so familiar about the story, something on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite articulate yet.

“When the Elven King found out he was furious. Rage overtook his grief, and he declared war on the Kingdom of Oskana. Niko’s father closed the gates to the capital, essentially cutting off trade and making his own siege… it was fine for a while, then people started starving, and hungry people get desperate…”

“A mother who couldn’t bear to watch her children starve anymore snuck out of the city and met with the Elven King in secret. She asked him what would make him cease this war he had declared. The Elf told the woman that once Niko’s father had felt the same grief that he did, then the elf would call off their people and leave their court. Disappear from Oskana altogether.”

“You mean… the elf asked the woman to kill the King’s son…”

“Not just his son, his eldest, the heir.”

Cosimo swallowed. “King Nikolas?”

“Yes,” said Henrik, his voice grave. “When the woman heard the price, she snuck back into the capital and cradled her children close and wept.”

“Because she had to murder someone?” Cosimo asked sadly.

“No,” said Henrik. “It was because she couldn’t murder Prince Niko, and she hugged her children because she understood the weight of her decision. That it may cause their deaths.”

Cosimo looked over his shoulder at Henrik. “Why?”

“Throughout his father’s tyranny he had been the one thing that kept the Kingdom together. He gave food to the hungry, medicine to the sick, he opened the palace doors to the homeless and cold and warmed them by a warm fire. The woman was determined to end the siege, and so, instead of killing Niko, she killed his father.”

“The king?” Cosimo asked, voice high in surprise.

“Yes,” said Henrik sadly.

They passed through the gates to the city of Oskana without any trouble and Cosimo got a look at the people and the city up close. People milled about their everyday routines, coming in and out of shops, some carrying baskets, children chasing cats and each other. Shortly after the gate to the city they came upon a market plaza, a fountain was the centrepiece in the middle made of beautiful sleek grey stone, the bottom of the pools was tiled with the same symbol that Cosimo noticed on the flag of Oskana.

“Niko and I were there.”

“You saw?” Cosimo asked. He heard Henrik swallow behind him.

“Yes. I saw. Niko’s father insisted that he attend court matters, and as his personal guard in training I was to attend as well. They were mostly boring, Niko took great interest in them, in the farmers blights and merchants fights. Then one day a woman came and said her children were dying and asked the king to end the war.”

“Niko’s father refused. The woman nodded. Then she said she would end it herself. That was the last thing she said before she ran at the king. Two arrows lodged into her arm and back before she reached the King, but she kept moving. I was right there… I could have… but before any of us could stop her she had planted an Elven knife deep into the King’s chest.”

“Another arrow hit the woman and Niko caught her before she fell, tears in his eyes, asking her why she did that. The woman said her name and the names of her children, where they lived and then she died in his arms.”

The pair of them let the weight of the words cover them in a blanket of silence. The city still bustling around them, Ebony’s hooves clipping off stone. They were getting into the upper residences of the city now. Less markets and live farm animals baying, more refined shops and elegantly dressed citizens.

“Did it end the war?” Cosimo asked.

“No. It didn’t. Word spread to the elves that the king was dead, and Niko was now the king. The Elven king was outraged, he wanted Niko’s father to feel his pain and now he was dead he wanted blood.”

“The elf didn’t stop?”

“No,” Henrik said through gritted teeth. “I guess foolishness is something both our species share.”

Cosimo’s lips turned down into a frown. “They kept trying to kill Niko?”

“Assassin after assassin. Niko wanted to speak with the elf, but his courtiers wouldn’t allow him, they said he would kill him.”

“But Niko is king, he should be allowed do what he wants.”

“He was young,” said Henrik by way of explanation. “The courtiers effectively still had to educate him in his duties as King, which included not walking into enemy lines.”

“So, the war?”

“Niko still faces threats to this day. We don’t know who could be an assassin in disguise. So, it’s safer to assume everyone is a threat.”

“Even me,” said Cosimo glumly.

“Yes,” Henrik replied evenly. “Even you.”

They rode in silence up to the giant palace gates where Henrik chatted idly with the guards standing there. Cosimo remained silent, his thoughts racing. He rubbed sweaty palms down on the leg of his trousers trying to distract himself from the fear that gripped him at seeing just how big the castle was. How far they had travelled on horseback away from where Cosimo left the boy and the fox.

He swallowed as the Henrik’s initial words came into his mind.

You can’t kill it. They must be brought to court before their execution.

His head was tilted the full way back as he stared at the tall palace gates, taller than some trees Cosimo had seen on the way here. This is the court that he would be tried in, and then… maybe his execution. Nobody would find the boy and the fox without him. The thoughts weighed heavy on him when Henrik clicked his tongue and Ebony began clopping his way into the palace grounds.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Tag-list: @annablogsposts (I just added you automatically lmk if you wanna be removed!)

[egg-writes-whump]

Whumper looked awfully relaxed for someone who had just turned themself into the team for kidnapping Whumpee. Caretaker glared at them.

"Ok. Talk. From what I can gather from you, you don't look like the kind of person who'd turn themselves in for no reason."

"I'll give you this, Caretaker: Whumpee's more stubborn than I took them for."

Whumper responded casually. Leader growled.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I thought they well would've given up on trying to break out by now, after they gave up on you lot saving them so quickly. But no. Here we are, and they could literally be anywhere right now. they got out. They win."

They shrugged.

"Wait, wait, go back: they gave up on us?"

"For the first couple months they were so sure. They kept saying, just you wait til the others get here. No matter what I did. And then I guess it just struck them that maybe, just maybe, if you were looking, you would've been there by that point. But nope. So I guess they gave up. Not on freedom. Just on you."

[kjapaluv]

more the runaway episode 3

[hunterscabin]

Everything Goes Wrong

Summary: Dean is there to comfort his little sister after she suffers a fatal injury while hunting.

Pairings: Dean x Sister!Reader; Sam x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst; hurt/comfort; whump; death

Word Count: 1.3k 

Author’s Note: Requested from anonymous many moons ago. 

Dean. He was running toward you, screaming your name. You couldn’t comprehend his urgency; the leviathan were dead, the fight was over.

It all happened so quickly. You walked into a battle already underway. A small group of hunters also trailing the levis were first to arrive at the hideout, complicating an already dicey hunt. At the sight of their chaotic fighting, it became immediately clear that none of them had the tact or skill of a Winchester. Your brothers took action, causing two of the chompers to flee. Dean tossed one of the rookie hunters a sack of crude borax bombs and instructed them to capture the runaways. Sam crossed the warehouse, distracting one of the remaining leviathan. Dean took advantage of his brother’s diversion, driving the righteous, blood soaked bone he brandished deep into her skull.

On the other side of the abandoned stockroom, you were taking a beating from the last leviathan. He had been momentarily stunned by the bottle of borax you smashed over him, but his resiliency was remarkable. Almost immediately regaining his composure, he flung you into a pile of scrap metal. You scrambled to your feet, unsheathing your knife in the process. He made quick work of disarming you before effortlessly pinning you against a steel support beam. You winced, preparing for the worst, when suddenly, he retreated. Your eyes opened to find Sam impaling him with the bone several yards away.

High off the action, your entire body pulsed with energy. Or was it throbbing? Normally, the adrenaline of a hunt didn’t make you this… this… what was this feeling? You heard Dean shout your name again. Why did he sound so strange? A warmth spread across your stomach, and you looked down to find a mess of red. Blood? Your blood. Soaking your clothes and pooling at your feet. Bewilderment washed over you as your fingers wrapped around the handle of your blade. 

Just as Dean reached your side, your legs buckled. He braced your fall and carefully lowered you to the ground.

"Sammy!" Your eldest brother’s voice was gruff and full of urgency.

Consumed with killing the leviathan, Sam had been unaware of the commotion behind him. When he turned to see you bleeding in Dean’s arms, Sam shot up and sprinted toward you. He landed hard on his knees in front of Dean.

"Just the knife?" Sam’s eyes darted rapidly up and down your trembling form, trying to assess the damage.

Not wanting to speak the words, Dean nodded, his expression telling Sam the severity of your injuries.

“The car’s too far.” Dean thought aloud.

Sam wrestled with his next move. He didn’t want to leave you. He knew your chances of surviving were slim. He heard it in Dean’s tone. He saw it on your bloodstained clothes. Still, if there was even the slightest chance of saving you, he had to try.

“I’ll see if I can catch up with the other hunters.”

Both men knew it wouldn’t be enough, but it was the best Sam had to offer. Dean nodded reluctantly.

As your brothers’ muffled voices became more clear, so did your reality. The once dull pressure was now a searing pain. Your body screamed and your face contorted.

"Y/N, look at me.” Your eyes, wide with fear and confusion, found Sam’s. "You're gonna be okay. I’m going to get help.” 

Sam leaned forward and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back, Y/N/N. I promise.”

Through a large, broken window, Dean watched Sam tear across the field and into the nearby woods. When he glanced back at you in his arms, your eyes were closed.

"Y/N, you gotta stay awake." Dean gently shook you until your gaze met his. "That's my girl."

"So tired, De." Your groggy voice begged for sleep.

"I know you are, kiddo, but I need you to keep your eyes on me.”

"Too hard,” you murmured, “Can’t do it."

"Yes you can, sweetheart." Dean was no longer able to mask his concern. "How can I help, Y/N/N? Tell me what to do."

Your brother’s desperation lifted the fog numbing your senses, and you clearly understood what you hadn’t before; you were dying. Anyone else would panic at this realization, beg their God for more time, cling to the last bit of life and fight. Not you. You woke every morning knowing this was a possibility. Saving people, hunting things; it was a dangerous road.

You weren’t bitter; no matter how menacing, your days were full of purpose, and that wasn’t something most people could say. You weren’t afraid; years of close calls had prepared you for this moment. You were, however, insurmountably saddened by the fact that Dean had to watch you die. You knew he would bear the weight of your absence completely despondent and guilt ridden. There was so much you wanted to say to ease his inevitable grief, but talking had grown increasingly difficult as words and breath eluded you. The most you could do was take the hand of solace Dean extended. You silently prayed that would be enough. 

"Tell me a story."

Dean smiled. Between your sleepy eyes and the way you were curled in his arms, it felt like you were little again.

“Have I ever told you about the day mom and dad brought you home from the hospital?”

You shook your head “No.”

“Sammy was not happy.” Dean gave a weak laugh remembering how ornery his brother had been. 

“He locked himself in his room. I tried to tell him that having a little sibling wasn’t all bad, but he wouldn’t listen. Dad had to take his door off the hinges to get him out.”

“He loves’me now.” you noted dreamily.

“He sure does.” Dean agreed, furrowing at your slurred speech. Another sign that your body was succumbing to its injuries. 

“That phase lasted less than an hour,” he continued. 

“Wha’happn’d?”

“He held you.” Dean’s voice was thick with nostalgia. “Mom convinced him. He sat in Dad’s chair, and she laid you in his lap. He wasn’t sure at first, but then you smiled.” 

Despite your pain, a contented grin eased across your face. 

“Just like that.” 

“D’d you hold me?”

Dean nodded. “You were so small, but I swear your eyes were as big and Y/E/C as they are now. I stared at you for hours. I never wanted to let you go.” I still don’t want to let you go. 

Dean paused to clear the sadness from his throat, but he was losing the battle against his emotions. He could see your eyes growing dim and feel your skin getting cold. You didn’t have much longer. 

“I love you so much, Y/N/N.” Dean’s words were short and breathless. 

“I love you too.” 

Dean pulled you closer and placed a warm hand on the side of your face. 

“De?” A small, crimson spot appeared at the corner of your mouth. “C’n I close m’eyes, now?"

At once, Dean felt everything and nothing. He knew the instant your eyes closed, he’d never see them again. He cursed himself for bringing you on such a risky hunt. He cursed himself for not keeping a better eye on you during the fight. He cursed Sam for still being gone. Not because he thought his younger brother would bring anything or anyone to save you, but because he knew how broken he’d be, returning to find his little sister asleep forever. He wanted to shake you, to scream, to do everything in his power to ensure your heavy lids didn’t fall, but he refrained. He knew this would be the last comfort he could ever give you. Dean surrendered to his heartache and let you slip from this world.

"Yeah, baby girl. You can rest now. I’ve got you.”

Masterlist

[ashintheairlikesnow]

She Wasn't Sure She Believed Herself

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four |

CW: Werewolf whumpee, escaped whumpee with caretakers, referenced abuse, dehumanization by captors, and captivity

-

Anaya swayed lightly as she made her way up the steps. The front door to Vanessa’s house was painted the same deep shade of blue as the underside of the porch ceiling.

Between that and the fact that the porch was painted a flat and blinding white, Anaya felt a little like she was standing upside down in the ocean, a wave breaking beneath her and the depths of the ocean over her head. 

It was deeply disorienting.

Then again, maybe that was the sleep deprivation talking.

Every other house on the block was the same basic set of shades - gray house with black shutters, white house with gray shutters, pale yellow house with black shutters, another gray, a different white, light brown that was nearly beige, actual beige… Vanessa’s house, with all its dancing blues, had stood out like a beacon as soon as they turned onto the street. 

Eden was right behind her, one arm supporting Misae and his own eyes moving over the porch swing that moved gently in the wind. A small black cat sat on the swing, watching them with intense curiosity. Its tail flicked as it took in the sight of Misae. They’d managed to find an old hoodie of Eden’s and some of Anaya’s sweatpants for Misae to wear, and the boy looked absolutely swamped in the hoodie, hood pulled up to cover his face as much as he could and sleeves long enough to completely hide his hands. They couldn’t help his lack of shoes, but Anaya had managed to get some white socks on him and had decided to just hope for the best. He could limp, with support, and Eden had kept an arm around him, taking most of his weight as he slowly struggled up the steps. 

The boy’s face was white with pain, and his eyes kept dancing wildly trying to take in everything at once, but he stayed upright and he didn’t pass out again, so… Anaya called it a win.

“Why don’t you knock?” Anaya asked, nervously picking at her fingernails with her other hand, trying to calm her nerves. “You’re better at talking to people.”

“First off, that’s a gigantic lie. Secondly, she isn’t my friend,” Eden answered easily. This wasn’t the first time they’d had some version of a conversation like this one. She had the distinct sense that if he could, he would have shrugged. As it was, he was holding nearly all of Misae’s weight by now. “She’s your friend. You should knock.”

“I mean, I may have… I may have exaggerated how well I know her, a little bit?” Anaya found a bit of skin sticking out near her cuticle on her thumb and absently picked at it, staring down. “We just talk on the internet. I don’t even know exactly how old she is. I’ve never seen her face, and now I’m showing up with my boyfriend and a werewolf.”

“Hey. Look at me, baby.” She raised her eyes and found Eden smiling at her, weary but warm. She couldn’t help but smile back. “You’ve got a good sense for people, you always have. And you said she agreed to let us crash, right?”

“Yeah, she did. She said no problem, just…” Anaya looked over at Misae. “I might have not mentioned… him.”

The boy was staring at the cat now. The cat met his gaze with slitted pupils, ears slightly back, fur slightly raised. There was a flash of what might have been sharp teeth, the subtle whisper of a warning hiss.

Misae’s lips pulled back from his own teeth in tandem. 

Anaya stared with wide eyes as she realized his canine teeth were longer than they should be. When she looked down at his hands, she saw fingernails that stretched even as she looked at them, hardening into obvious claws even as his fingers started to thicken and turn blunt.

Was he... growing paws?

The cat turned and leaped gracefully up onto the railing and then down to the ground on the other side, disappearing in a flash around the side of the house. 

Anaya's eyes jumped back to Misae's face.

His lips were closed, and his hands had gone back to normal. Maybe she was imagining it?

“Maybe,” Eden suggested, tone irritatingly mild, “Maybe we all just stay calm and don’t bring the werewolf thing right off the bat.”

"... but did you just see-"

"Mmhmm. I know what I think I saw, anyway."

"You cannot possibly still not believe-"

“I didn’t say that I don’t believe it. Just, let’s not like fling that info around willy-nilly, Naya, yeah? And you, Misae, keep a hold on those teeth. We'll keep the wolf thing to ourselves for at least a little while. Besides, I flat out cannot drive anymore until we get some sleep. So…” Eden shifted a little and then gestured at the door. “Knock.”

Anaya took a deep breath, and turned around, stepping up to the door. Beneath her feet, a pale doormat read Welcome, witches and there was a sign hanging right at Anaya’s eye level: Live laugh lobotomize.

Right.

This was Vanessa. She had nothing to worry about.

Not that having nothing to worry about had ever once stopped Anaya from worrying. Camping had always been the only time she ever felt totally calm, and even that was a little ruined now. How many secret homes with hidden people kept like animals were there in the world, and she just didn't know about them?

The thought kept spinning circles when she tried not to think at all.

The door swung open just as Anaya's knuckles touched the door and she jerked her hand back in surprise. Behind her, Misae straightened a little, leaning against Eden while trying to look like he wasn’t hurt. His eyes kept shifting, as if he was trying to look everywhere all at once. 

God, they looked like such a mess. 

The wooden sign clacked as it swung forward and back, and Anaya’s first impression was of a pair of sparkling brown eyes. “I thought I heard voices,” Vanessa smiled. She was a tall, broad woman with a deep, melodic voice, totally unlike Anaya’s mental image of her. Her eyes matched her ponytail and she looked very much like every high school art teacher Anaya had ever imagined. Right down to the paint-splattered tunic and leggings. 

She took in the three of them in a moment, and then her smile widened and she stepped back and to the side. “Well, you’re clearly Anaya,” She continued. “It’s nice to see you in person for the first time. So, if you’re Anaya, then this must be the hottie boyfriend… Evan?”

“Eden,” Anaya corrected absently, still trying to connect this warm and soft woman standing before her with the acerbic, dryly sarcastic online voice she’d been chatting with for years. 

“Oh, right. Sorry, Eden.”

“That’s okay.” Eden shrugged, a shy smile playing around his lips, flushed a little still from hearing hottie probably. He was always weak to compliments. “Evan actually was on my shortlist for names, anyway, actually.”

“Oh, was it?” Vanessa’s eyebrow quirked up. “You’re not just saying that so I feel less like I just face planted into a mud puddle in public, are you?”

Oh, okay. Now that was the Vanessa that Anaya knew so well.

“Ha, no, it really was. But then I thought of Eden, and, well, I just… liked it better than all the others.”

“Well, I like Eden better, too. It fits - you’re clearly paradise on two legs.” Vanessa winked, and Eden turned tomato-red. Anaya felt herself nearly knocked over by a wave of something between her usual full-throated adoration of her awkward boyfriend's struggle to take a compliment and relief that things were going so well when she’d been so scared they wouldn’t. Vanessa laughed, her laugh as mellow as everything else about her appearance. “Seriously, though… come, come on in, all of you.”

Anaya’s pulse jackhammered in her throat and at her wrists as she stepped forward, moving from the sunset light outdoors into the darker house. The first thing she saw was a wall painted a beautiful deep evergreen, a wall of a dozen or so pieces of framed artwork that had every rainbow shade and probably a few colors Anaya had never even heard of. Side lamps were lit everywhere, and a ceiling fan turned lazily overhead. This looked like somebody's perfect cozy escape from the world.

Anaya wondered how it would feel, to have a home like this. Somewhere that you owned outright. She and Eden had always been renters, and half the time these days they lived out of Eden's car.

“So… there’s you two, and there’s also… who is this you have with you?” Vanessa asked, voice lilting just a little in curiosity. “A brother? Cousin? What’s your name, honey?”

Misae didn’t answer. His chin had lowered, even though his eyes were locked on Vanessa now, watching her every movement. 

Anaya cleared her throat. “This is… um, this is Misae. We… met him on the trip.”

“Oh, okay. I knew you were camping this weekend in Idaho, so… oh, that’s why you texted me for somewhere to stay? Because of meeting him?” 

“Yeah.” Anaya tried to keep her voice casual, unruffled. “He just needs a safe place, he, uh… He r-ran away from home.” It was close enough to true. Really it was true, she just… left out a few minor details. He was being hunted by a man with a gun and oh, hey, he also turns into a wolf. That’s not a problem, right? “I know I didn’t mention he was with us, and I'm so sorry. We will completely understand if you don’t want to deal with-”

“Hey, I didn’t say that.” Vanessa raised her hands, as though showing she was harmless. Or thought they were. “It’s definitely not a problem. I just wasn’t thinking about you needing more than bed. Seriously, it is no problem, I can blow up the air mattress for an extra bed.” 

“Okay, okay, thank you so much, Vanessa. We’ll just get settled, and if you could tell us where the shower is-“

“Oh, honey,” Vanessa interrupted. “Are you hurt?”

Anaya opened her mouth to reply, but realized Vanessa wasn't looking at her at all. Vanessa moved towards Misae, hands out.

To Anaya's horror, Misae recoiled, snarling with lips pulled back from his teeth, before he lost his balance, trying to catch himself and accidentally putting too much weight on his injured leg.

His knee buckled, and he went down hard, losing his balance with a high-pitched cry, somehow ending up turned around and falling right off the steps onto the stone path that led up to the porch.

He desperately grabbed at Eden's arm to try and catch himself and instead pulled Eden down with him.

Eden grunted when he landed hard on his left elbow, but he had the good luck of falling a little to the side and landing in the grass. Misae smacked down into concrete, catching himself with his hands but Anaya watched his ankle twist in the process.

His whine turned to whimpers, deeply canine. He hunched his shoulders and curled up, still snarling and making a sound somewhere between whimper and growl, and Anaya wondered if everything she hadn’t said about this strange boy was about to spill out anyway, whether she liked it or not.

When Vanessa took one more step forward, Misae snapped at her from where he lay, teeth clicking together sharply. His canines were growing again.

Anaya tried to think of an explanation - something logical that didn't involve breaking the news that at least one totally mythological creature had turned out to be absolutely real - but nothing came.

She only stared with her eyes and mouth both wide.

“Oh, shit,” Vanessa whispered. She didn't seem to have noticed Misae's teeth changing, and Anaya was hit with relief that cut as sharp as any knife. “Oh. I am so fucking sorry, I didn’t-... I didn’t mean-” She moved again, and Anaya caught her by one arm. Tears welled up in her eyes as she turned. “I swear, Anaya, I didn’t mean to scare him!”

“No, I know, he’s just… really jumpy about people who move too fast,” Anaya soothed, watching as Eden moved to Misae and murmured to him. The boy's expression gradually changed and he shook his head, eyes down and hair covering as much of his face as he could manage. At least he stopped making that face. Eden nodded, murmured something not quite audible in reply, and very slowly reached out. 

Misae sat back, holding his hands palms-up, letting Eden take them in his own hands to look them over. Blood welled where skin had been scraped away by catching himself when he fell. 

Misae looked up through the curtain of his messy hair, watching Eden's face. Anaya swallowed hard as she saw a spot of red where she knew the bandage was on Misae’s leg. Was that damn wound ever going to stop bleeding?

“He got used to getting hurt where he lived before,” Anaya said in a low voice, keeping her hand on Vanessa to keep her from potentially scaring the poor kid all over again. She told herself she wasn’t lying - those scars Misae was covered with, hidden thanks to Eden’s shirt and Anaya’s sweatpants, proved that pain had definitely been something Misae understood very well indeed. Maybe the only thing he seemed to understand. “It’s made him jumpy. Let’s, um, let’s go inside and then Eden and Misae can come in after us?”

Vanessa slowly nodded, reluctantly turning away. “Okay. I really am so sorry.”

“It’s totally fine,” Anaya said. She had no idea if it was fine or not. The words just came out automatically, an instinctive reply to try and soothe the unsettled air around them. “He’ll be okay. We’re just trying to get him far enough away that he feels safer.”

“Yeah. I can… I can see why.” Vanessa seemed to remember this was her house and straightened up a little. She shot one more hesitant glance over her shoulder, and then led Anaya through a small living room stuffed with too many hand-me-down couches draped in deep brick-red covers and throw pillows and blankets, into a small hallway with four doors. “So, we have… a linen closet, towels are in there-” She pointed at the first door. Then, across the hall, the bathroom with a tiny shower-bathtub, a toilet, and a sink and mirror. “My water heater isn’t great, but if your showers are fast they can be hot. Otherwise, you might have to settle for more or less warm. And here, right here-” She opened the last door on the left. “This is the guest bed. I’m sorry there isn’t more space-”

“It’s perfect,” Anaya said, forcing her voice to brighten up. Her mind wandered back to the boys outside. “We’ll get settled and get clean and then, if you don’t mind, we might just want to like… nap for a while.”

“Not a problem. I have some work to finish up, anyway.” Vanessa smiled, even as she still looked a little worried and guilty. “Any requests for supper? I’m afraid delivery in this neighborhood isn’t happening, but I’ve got some frozen pizzas and garlic bread, or I could make pasta and sauce, or… if anybody’s low carb, uh, I could run to the store for steak or something…”

Anaya thought of Misae’s thin face, wiry arms, knobby knees, the way his stomach pulled in too much, how he swam in clothes that shouldn't have been oversized. The way his eyes seemed to sink a little into his face. “Um… No, carbs are definitely a good idea. Pizzas?”

“Okay. I’ll get the oven preheating. You three just… you get settled. Let me know if there's anything you need or you can't find.” Vanessa disappeared back out the door and Anaya stepped further into the little room.

There was a side table with a little lamp and she switched it on, absently. It gave the little room, walls painted blue, a cozy glow. She dropped her backpack onto the fluffy oversized comforter - clearly made for a king-sized mattress but laid out over the queen-sized bed - and sat down, slowly leaning over with her hands over her face.

She was so tired.

At least Vanessa had been a lot less bothered by the sudden appearance of two disheveled adults and one teenager than Anaya had expected, but the last bit had clearly thrown that initial lack of bother away. Now they not only had a teenage runaway with them, he was visibly injured and he’d reacted to Vanessa attempting to touch him in a way that made it equally clear he hadn’t come from anywhere good. Plus, the noises he'd made, the way he snarled and snapped like an animal... If Vanessa got too curious, or decided to call the fucking cops... Anaya didn't know why exactly, but she knew that would end badly.

A throat cleared in the doorway and Anaya looked up. Eden stood there, smiling a little, Misae leaning against him again. The boy’s eyes darted around, never landing on any one place for long. He’d been limping before - now he was flat out hopping on one leg, using Eden to keep himself upright. His injured leg was pulled slightly up. 

“He’s okay,” Eden said, in a tone that said he was soothing them both. “Just a little scrape on the hands. I’ll get my kit from the car, we’ll get him a good shower and then I can bandage him up again.”

“Good.” Anaya breathed the word out. Even that felt like it took more energy than she really had left. She hadn’t realized how hard she was working to hold herself together until she didn’t really have to any longer. 

She wanted to sleep for a week.

Maybe a month.

But she’d settle for patting the bed next to her. “Misae, why don’t you just come over here and lay down for a minute with me, okay?”

Misae’s eyebrows briefly furrowed. He licked at his lips - something Anaya was realizing he did almost compulsively when nervous - and then slowly shook his head. “Not allowed,” He said, voice low. He sounded a little confused.

“What? Why? Because you’re bleeding?” 

Misae stared at her for a few long seconds, then shook his head again. “No. We're... not allowed on the furniture.”

Eden’s eyes closed, tightly, for just a second. Anaya watched a vague flush of anger move over his face and be just as quickly pressed down and done away with. She knew what she was seeing, though, and knew Eden would smile soft and sweet even as he turned that over and over in his mind all night long. The same way Anaya would.

Not allowed on the furniture because he's been treated like he’s a dog.

“Well, here you are allowed on the furniture, and I’m saying you should lay down on the bed and get the weight off that leg. Okay?” She patted the bed again. This time, Misae hesitantly nodded and let Eden support his slightly absurd little bunny-hops forward until they made it close enough for him to more collapse than lay down. Misae curled himself up as tightly as he could, arms tucked against his body and only his injured leg out straight, the other one curled with his knee nearly to his chest.

"Oh," He whispered, eyes wide.

Anaya blinked at the look of surprise on his face, and tilted her own head as she looked down at him, slipping a firm pillow beneath his head only for his eyes to widen even further. She fought back a faint smile, worried he might think she was mocking him. “What’s that look for?”

Misae swallowed, those strange golden-brown eyes shifting to meet hers. He returned her smile. “I didn’t know beds were so soft,” He explained. “I’ve never been in one.”

Anaya couldn’t think of a single thing she could possibly say to that.

Eden backed away from them. “I’ll go get our things from the car and then I’m just going to get right into the shower,” He said, voice tight and hard, and turned away, closing the door a little too hard behind him as he went. 

Misae winced when the door shut with a loud thunk, shifting until the top of his head just brushed against the side of Anaya’s leg. She let her hand drift down to run fingers through his hair like she had while Eden stitched him up in the car - oh god, that was less than twelve hours ago, somehow it felt like so much more time had passed than that - and the boy breathed out in something that seemed like pure pleasure, eyes fluttering shut. 

“He’s angry,” Misae said, voice low. Just above a whisper, a little hoarse. "At me."

“He's angry, but not at you," Anaya replied, shifting until her back was against the headboard, keeping her fingers sifting through soft strands. Her own eyes closed and she could feel her exhaustion weighing down every corner of her mind. “Definitely not at you. Just at… what it seems like life has been for you. It’s not going to be like that for you anymore, okay? We’ll figure out how to find some place better for you.”

Misae didn’t reply.

Anaya knew that he was silent, this time, not because he had nothing to say in response, but because he didn’t believe her. 

She wasn’t sure she believed herself.

-

@finder-of-rings @burtlederp @deluxewhump @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings @yassifiedinformation @wildfaewhump @whatwhump @honeycollectswhump @tundra-tiger @dont-look-me-in-the-eye @there-will-always-be-blood

[villain-enthusiast]

my snippets

cute fluff hero x villain sexy time villain comes back for hero

dark/toxic romance possessive villain x defiant hero royal villain recaptures runaway hero

angst/whump villain finds hero dying hero begs royal villain for help villain has a mental breakdown villain dies in hero's arms villain takes away hero's memories - part two hero has a nightmare hero is forced to take care of villain villain has fallen ill hero can't control their power - part two villain holds hero's friend hostage - part two

other hero/villain dynamics villain finds out who hero really is hero infiltrates villain's base villain kisses hero mid-fight - part two hero saves villain from superhero hero struggles to fight villain - part two hero holds villain over a rooftop - part two

[women-in-writing]

Women in Whump: Sci-fi Edition 1

- Woman pilot stranded on a planet she's never been to after her ship is impounded.

- Alien woman who's abducted by the US government and experimented on after her ship crashes.

- Android who's owner throws her out after upgrading to a 'newer' model, leaving her homeless.

- Woman who stows away on a freighter to escape an abusive partner without realizing she accidentally snuck on a pirate vessel.

- Queen of a hive-mind dragging herself out of her destroyed nest after team of scientists stole her brood.

- Woman living in a mega-tower who gets violently mugged and needs to walk down ten levels back to her apartment.

- Mecha pilot who needs to cut off a limb to escape her damaged mech.

- Cyborg woman who's parts are hacked by a controlling partner to keep her inside.

- Teen runaway getting lost in the service tunnels of a massive space-station.

Non-con under the cut!!

- Hacked android who has no choice but to perform sexual favors for people.

- Only woman crew member on a spaceship being assaulted by the rest of the crew as 'stress relief'.

- Women from highly sexualized species being abducted and sold into sexual slavery for humans and other aliens.

- Woman in cyberpunk future who's brain is hacked and she's forced to relive her assault.

- Woman stowing away on a ship is found and raped as punishment.

[whumpetywhump]

Flowers For Algernon - Ep. 3

[cepheusgalaxy]

so with whump

as a group? fandom? or any other word syebsj

usually it's fictional character and fics right but if you were to interact with other whumpees (that the term) like as roleplay or i dunno

would you or

okay maybe that's a confusing way of putting my question suwnsj

uh just tell me about your own experiences :3 if you wanna

Ok my experiences with whump? I'm not big on roleplaying (although it looks fun. just maybe not for me) so i'll talk about the community

They're awesome or at least the bubble I'm in like

There's one guy who got his acount deleted like a thousand times but he always swings back and he draws super well I like to reference from him and he's super nice

Then there this person who makes comics and they have so many I can't keep up

Then there's this uh lady? Woman? What's like a casual way to say it in english. Like guy but for girls. Anyway, she has a series that's so fun

And there's this person with such nice caracters I kinda picked my name from there.......

Oh, oh there's one thing that's like super nice and that's BBU

Its like a community worldbuilding like. Its premise is that there is a modern kind of world where humans are kept as slaves called "boxies" (because if people "order" them they arrive in packages)—thats why we call it the Box Boy Universe—and there's this organization called WRU (no idea what this name means i think its we r umpers or smth) that "trains" them and there are Safehouses for runaways and theres also The Pet Lib Movement

And it's a fun universe because everyone can use it! And so there's a lot of collaboration like, there's some part of the worldbuilding you don't wanna flesh out? This person here already did it. There is so much lore made by so many people and the fun is that you get to decide what is canom in your bbu

Also theres this person who took such a turn on it they (i dont remember their pronouns rn) imagined how it would be a bbu world but like in the black and white tv era. They did the origins of WRU (the evil slavery organization) and its like i haven't read it yet but it's such a fun concept

I also like the prompts. There's always some crazy thing I haven't thought about and it's lots of fun

There's also the community events (like febuwhump—one of the only i participed in lmao—where we get prompts for each day of february and write or draw something) idk they're fun people

[varpusvaras]

*looks at Runaway au and all the scenes I have outlined for it*

This has now taken a turn to Bail whump and I feel bad for putting him through this 😭😭😭

[dresden-syndrome]

Requested by @whumped-by-glitter

Whumping in EESU: Public humiliation

Newly designated pet whumpee being observed by owner and their colleagues, all gathered in a big office room.

Whumper listing their all of whumpee's political crimes, bragging about how dangerous they were and how great it is to have them caught.

State Security/Politburo/Party Committee whumper having a meeting, presenting their tied up and collared pet as an example of a state enemy and giving a passionate speech about ways of getting rid of them.

This goes without saying but whumpee used as a party entertainment - but not before being made to celebrate the achievements of EESU regime and cheer to the destruction of dissident movements. (Bonus point if whumpee was in one of them).

Whumpee with a singing skill forced to sing propaganda songs as their whumper and party guests clap and giggle at their attempts.

Whumpee forced to publicly declare their loyalty - whether stating that in front of their owner's department workers, giving a propaganda speech for the radio or taking part in a TV advert.

Whumpee forced to publicly beg for forgiveness and put on a regret display for their crimes. Especially if they were done deliberately by a spy or dissident whumpee, or whumpee hasn't actually done anything "wrong" at all.

Even after lots of humiliating sessions like that, they're still being treated as an enemy of the regime: poor class 4 whumpee may be secretly hoping to regain some of their rights yet under EESU laws they're still an enemy - forever.

Whumper taking a photo with their pet in a humiliating pose - with the whumpee on their knees or their boot stepping on whumpee's chest or head.

Whumper recording a film video of whumpee being tortured and handing it to State Security for watching how "spies and traitors" must be treated.

Whumper using their whumpee as the source of motivation for the department to fight political dissent and a sign of power they have over it.

An arrested spy being shown all the undisputable evidence of their work. Papers, equipment, ID cards from West countries' intelligence services, things they've used to sneak through the EESU border and mask their intentions - all on the table for the whumpee and detention personnel to see.

Newspapers and magazines announcing whumpee's arrest and declaring them a dangerous political criminal. (Bonus points if they're given to the whumpee to read).

A caught runaway class 2/3 whumpee paraded around their labor camp/commune as an example of what happens if one decides to attempt escape.

Whumpee had escaped from EESU and caught back; now they've been made to tell how horrible life in the West was an how much they regret running away from their dear homeland.

Whumpee being not allowed any privacy, having to undress, shower, sleep and do whatever they're told while always surrounded by the facility personnel. It can happen for different reasons - they're the beloved pet their owner can't leave alone, they're injured, aggressive or a high escape risk and need to be watched for their own good, or they're simply a class 4 subject which shouldn't need "human" things like privacy in general.

Medical checks in detention and the labs. Enough said.

Same goes for class 4 ear tags.

Public trials! of state enemies! forced to confess! all their imaginary crimes! for the audience to see and hear!

"Look at that, Whumpee. All your friends and family are ashamed of you. You were such a good worker, a Party member, you were your factory's pride - and then disappointed everyone you know with trying to destroy the government that gave us all work and bread in the first place! Where's your regret, Whumpee? Do you feel bad about that?"

[Masterpost link]