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raineandsky · 6 months

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Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?

Love Ur writing!!

aaaaaaa this was such a fun idea - im absolutely in love with this lil dynamic!! hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing it :D

tw blood, death

Animals. That’s all the agency ever saw the villains as. Animals they could poke and push and test and break into nothing.

So when the jail’s power-dampeners fail, the villains are more than happy to make like the tigers are out of their cage.

The villain to the supervillain’s right is burning the lock on his cell door. The villain on his left has fazed straight through hers. The supervillain steps up to the iron bars across his own cell to look beyond.

VIllains are flooding the corridor, breaking for the stairs one by one. “You,” he snaps as someone passes, and they thankfully slow down. “Open the door.”

Escape might be tantalising, if the villain’s quick glance to the stairs is anything to go by, but no villain ignores a supervillain. They rest their hands against the door for a moment, their brow knitted in concentration for a moment, before the lock clunks open.

They pull the door outward as the supervillain steps into the corridor, waiting impatiently. “Thank you,” the supervillain says shortly.

The villain wastes no time continuing their great escape, chasing the tails of the other villains. Golden light flashes against the walls of the stairwell like fireworks, panicked shouting drifting from above, dull thumping as inevitable bodies hit the floor. The superhero strolls up the steps to take in the carnage the villains are wreaking on the pristine agency.

Gunfire showers the corridor in the light of heaven itself. Agency guards are backed up against the one exit. Most of the villains have already pushed past them into the room beyond, but those who haven’t are springing on them from all directions with fire or ice or electricity or nothing but hatred.

He can see someone familiar through the chaos, the eye of the storm. His gun sprays death, his face twisted into a mix of anger and fear, his eyes set on the villain currently making her way towards him with palms of steaming water.

Almost all of the villains have passed through. Most guards are either lying in a puddle of crimson blood or following the flock into the next room. There’s two of them—his Favourite, and someone he couldn’t care less about.

The villain’s water flicks from her fingers and sprays the guard, earning a pained cry and a cringe away from her. His attention falls to the scalding cutting through his skin, and in one fatal move the villain swipes the gun from his hands.

The supervillain doesn’t have time to intervene. The other guard swings his weapon to the villain, and with a flash of golden light she drops to the ground. The gun clatters to the floor with her.

The two of them heave a breath like they’re free, and the supervillain sees his chance. He sweeps up the gun from the floor, shouldering his Favourite out of the way, before turning it on the other guard and opening fire. The force of the bullets shove the guard into the wall behind him, and his descent to the floor is accompanied by a nauseating streak of red.

The supervillain turns his gaze to the last guard, his Favourite, the one who helped him from the day he got here. The one who saw past the animals and saw a person.

The guard returns his gaze with abject horror, defenceless, trapped. His eyes are wide, his back pressed into the wall, his mouth working in a desperate attempt at what is probably a beg for mercy.

The supervillain doesn’t waste time. He doesn’t have any. He grabs the guard’s arm, earning a startled squeak, tucking the gun under his arm. He can see the burns left on the man’s arm from the villain’s attack; small but undoubtedly painful. He lays a hand over them and the guard hisses and pulls in his grip, whether in pain or fear of pain he can’t tell.

His hand is cool—he can tell from the way the guard relaxes in his hold after a moment. The supervillain holds down a pleased smile. “That’s it,” he says smoothly. “Is that better?”

He lets go and the guard tips his gaze to his skin, unblemished and unharmed. Like the water never touched him at all. His mouth opens. Closes. His brow creases.

“Your power…” he tries after a moment, confused, “they never figured it out. They thought you’d have something violent.”

The supervillain throws him a smile, unhidden this time. “They never expected a healer at the head of evil, did they?”

The supervillain drags him along, following the path of bloodshed like a map. Some villains are still loitering—one of them slinks up to the pair with a grin. They inspect the guard closely for a moment before running the edge of their knife across his jaw in thought. He tries to shrink away but the supervillain’s grip on him holds fast.

“Oh, isn’t this one pretty?” the villain purrs. They give the blade a flick for emphasis, and the guard flinches as the edge cuts a crimson line into his cheek. “Can’t wait to show the agency what happens to good little boys like him.”

“No one touches him, understand?” the supervillain snaps coldly. “He’s with us.”

The villain scowls, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. “Oh, we keepin’ pets now, boss?”

“We don’t keep pets, [Villain].” His gaze turns to the guard for a moment, a touch softer, almost thankful. “They’re not animals.”

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #requests #annablogsposts #thank you for the request!!!#honestly loved this idea so much #i dont think i fully did it justice cause it was getting long but GOD its delicious #as always requests are open friends i am always down for new exciting ideas

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delimeful · 5 months

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Hello!! I love all your works, but I think Taking The Fall has been my fav!! I just can’t get it outta my head lol. Do you know any other stories (either yours or someone else’s) abt borrowers that give off the same vibes? Like where they’re being kept + interrogated but the human isn’t a TOTAL asshole, but is still very scary?

Sorry if this is weird!! Love ur stories and i hope your day is going well!!

thank you, i'm so glad you've enjoyed!

i can't think of anything off the top of my head, but if anyone else has some good recommendations, please leave them in the replies/reblogs :)

#asks #ttf #fic recs #annablogsposts #queue

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fluxofthemouth · 1 year

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Hey!! I found some snippets of the Leondas and Piter fae story, and it seems really cool!! I only found like 5 so is there more or like a tag I should search to find them or is that it?

Happy New Year!

Hey hi, happy new year!! I absolutely treasure this kind of feedback, so thank you for taking the time to reach out!! @leondxs look!

Unfortunately we just don't have that much written out yet, those 4 or 5 posts are all there is of the story! Tune in next... unspecified length of time for more! It's so great to have a plot like this that lets him be his evil little guy self with an evil little guy buddy, we are definitely having some fun with it.

I was writing with @lellarps a while back, with that same general wizard verse that translates the science fiction Barony in Dune to a medieval fantasy Barony. Here, Piter finds an injured god of the underworld and agrees to help before he realizes what he's getting into. Post 1 is here [xxx] & I've got 6 total posts about that story so far. (I've actually been meaning to reach out to Lella to say I'd love to continue the story sometime if that still sounds fun... hi Lella!)

I'm glad you like the content here!

#annablogsposts

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whumpfessional · 2 years

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R7 and R20 for ghorek!

oh Anna, I’m sorry I’ve made you care about this character 😅 🤫

R7: Something about if they’ve bullied other people

Oh for sure. Ghorek comes from a culture where violent supremacy helps to establish your class position. I think of them as a little Klingon-y. But yeah, Ghorek isn’t a nice guy. He’s killed, he’s maimed. But there’s just something about this pathetic kid that he doesn’t like to see get kicked around.

R20: What does your character wish people knew about them?

Ghorek works in the engines because he wasn’t really able to fight anymore. He was in a fire fight that went very wrong and was one of the only people to walk out alive. Others say that he should be proud or shouldn’t let it bug him but he can’t control that his hands now shake too much to hold a gun.

#Ask game #circe story #ghorek #annablogsposts

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 5 days

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Hey! Not sure if you do requests, sorry if you don’t! If you want to, could you do a story where a supervillain typically goes easy on a group of rookie heroes, as he usually fights them just for fun, and could destroy them if he wanted.

He just lets them think they can beat him.

Then, something happens (maybe they cross a line, and one of the heroes tries to stop their team from crossing that line but they don't listen) where the supervillain shows them just how powerful he actually is?:

Ask anonymously

Hi there Annablogsposts! I do requests, I’m just typically really slow getting to them, lol. I’d love to write this for you! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

Hero entered the meeting room, where Leader and the rest of their team were already talking.

“So we’re in agreement, then?” Leader asked.

Teammate One nodded.

“If we take Henchman, we can interrogate them and learn more about Supervillain’s plans than we ever could through just reconnaissance.”

“Woah woah woah,” Hero said, “are we talking kidnapping?”

“Uh, yeah?” Teammate Two said, quirking an eyebrow.

Hero shifted their weight from one foot to the other.

“But isn’t kidnapping, I don’t know, wrong? I mean, Henchman doesn’t even have powers- they’re not even in the field most of the time. Why would we-”

Leader folded their arms across their chest.

“Hero, do you want to stop Supervillain or not? Desperate times call for desperate measures. Now, Teammate One is going to be look-out, while you-”

“No,” Hero said.

Leader blinked.

“No?”

“No,” Hero repeated, “I’m sorry, but I can’t be a part of something that goes against my morals, not to mention what we stand for. None of us should even be talking about this, let alone actually going through with it!”

Hero didn’t wait for Leader’s response. They turned and left the meeting room, only stopping when they got back to their own room.

…

Hero jolted awake, stirred by the sounds of a struggle. They checked the clock. Three in the morning. Their team must have gone through with it after all.

Hero crept into the room that had been set up as a holding cell. They peeked in and saw Henchman, battered and bloody, breathing hard. Hero’s eyes widened. Their own team did this!?

Hero unlocked the door and knelt by the criminal. Their eyes were glassy and dilated. Drugged. It wasn’t even a fair fight.

“I’m gonna help you,” Hero whispered.

“Hero?” Henchman croaked dazedly.

Hero had already left, bolting to the med bay to get supplies. They rushed back into the cell and got to work.

“This is more Teammate Two’s thing, but I’m gonna try my best,” Hero said quietly.

The room was silent, save for the occasional whimper from Henchman. When Hero finished, they had stitched up the deeper wounds and bandaged the more shallow ones.

Hero opened their mouth to ask a question when the far wall exploded into tiny bits. Supervillain stood there, a dark look on their face.

“Henchman?” Supervillain called.

“In here!” Henchman slurred.

Supervillain rushed to their right hand’s side.

“Who did it? One of them, or all of them?” Supervillain asked.

“A-all but this one,” Henchman said, nodding to Hero.

Supervillain looked up at Hero. Their eyes drifted to the medical supplies, and Hero’s bloodied hands.

“Not one for breaking the rules, hm?” Supervillain asked.

Hero sat frozen in shock. Supervillain had never been able to take out a wall like that before. Supervillain had always had minimal powers. How did they do this?

“Hero, wait for me outside,” Supervillain said, “and take Henchman with you.”

Hero opened their mouth, but no sound came out.

“Come on,” Henchman said, struggling to get up.

That spurred Hero into action. They helped Henchman up, and took them outside, stepping over bits of rubble and letting Henchman put their weight on them for support.

Hero turned.

“What are you gonna do?” they asked timidly.

Supervillain adjusted their gloves, their fingers curling into fists.

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

…

Hero waited outside until they heard the screaming. Those were their team’s voices. They laid Henchman down, leaning them up against a tree.

“I need to go help them,” Hero said, “stay here.”

“Thought you’d say that,” Henchman grunted, pulling something from a concealed pocket in their boot.

Hero barely had time to question what it was before the object was slammed into their thigh.

“Sorry, kid,” Henchman said, “but you don’t need to get hurt on account of them.”

Hero’s world spun. They stumbled, falling to the ground right next to Henchman. Henchman positioned them against their chest, so they’d be more comfortable. Hero drifted off a moment later.

…

Supervillain dusted themselves off, stepping over the mess of unconscious bodies strewn about the room. They approached Henchman, taking note of Hero, fast asleep.

“They tried to run in?” Supervillain asked knowingly.

Henchman shrugged, nodding.

“Poor thing,” Supervillain sighed, “we’ll sort them out. They deserve better.”

Supervillain picked both Henchman and Hero up with ease, as though they were little more than a few feathers. They flew off, back to their base. The rest of the team would wake up so see themselves and their compound in shambles. Hero, on the other hand, would wake up in a lavish bedroom. It pays to not anger the most powerful Supervillain in the world.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

#eyyyy finally got a request done!#as requested #hero x villain #hero x villain community #heroes and villains #supervillain #henchman #team whump #hero whump #writeblr #writing #whump #creative writing #snippet #drugging #kidnapping

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serickswrites · 5 months

Text

Bring VII

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, unconsciousness, wounds

All Right Hand knew was pain. They could smell their own burnt flesh. Could taste the blood that ran down the back of their throat. And it took everything in them to keep their eyes open.

“If you pass out, Right Hand, I’ll return my attention back to Sidekick. You don’t want that, do you?” Villain whispered in Right Hand’s ear. “You will have sacrificed yourself for nothing.”

Right Hand glanced over at Sidekick. Sidekick still hadn’t regained consciousness and Right Hand was beginning to worry that Villain had done something to Sidekick in the time they had been gone to do other chores after pouring the salt and water on Sidekick’s back.

“I’m awake,” Right Hand hissed. But they weren’t sure for how much longer. It was taking everything in them to stay awake.

Villain grinned. “I can see that. We’ll see how long you last.” Villain scraped their finger along an open wound on Right Hand’s back.

Right Hand squealed in pain.Villain laughed as they pushed their finger into the wound. “This could all stop, you just have to say yes.”

Right Hand couldn’t say anything. All they could think about was the burning pain and the encroaching darkness. They had to stay awake or Sidekick would face more torture.

“No yes? Then I guess I’ll keep going.” Villain scraped another wound with their other hand. “I gave you so many chances, Right Hand.”

Right Hand’s grip on consciousness began to fade as Villain thrust more fingers into the wounds, pulling and tearing Right Hand’s skin. Right Hand gave a silent plea for forgiveness and mercy as the darkness consumed them.

Tags: @ha-ha-one@skys-fantasy@keeper-of-all-the-random-things@a-place-to-put-poetry@subval01 @smuwfy-side-blog @friendlylandcrustacean@annablogsposts@st0rmm@freefallingup13@lit-lists@saltyontheside@pieswhump@bookworm7543@st0rmm @whump321 @kyommommo @written-by-jayy

#serickswrites #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw torture #tw unconsciousness #tw wounds #right hand #sidekick #villain #villain x sidekick #villain x right hand #sidekick x right hand #hero x villain community #queue

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whumpsday · 1 year

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"defiant whumpee mumbling “fuck you” during torture" imaginingJim early on not thinking about Vampire hearing and whispering things under his breath and Kane hearing it

inspo

cw: beating, dehumanization

Jim hated being fed from. Hated, hated, hated it. It hurt, and it was humiliating, and it made him feel like he was a thing instead of a person. Kane's thing, that the vampire could do whatever he wanted with. And there was nothing Jim could do about it.

He'd been doing it for months, and he still hadn't gotten used to it. Maybe he never would. Most days, he just went along with it, knowing how powerless he was. But it was hard not to flinch away when he knew it was going to hurt.

"Stop pulling away." Kane snapped, and Jim's cheek exploded with pain as the vampire slapped him. It was worse than any slap from a human, and though he could tell that Kane was holding back and could make it much worse, it still hurt horribly.

Jim cried out, but stopped resisting, his eyes watery with barely-held-back tears. Kane yanked his head to the side and bit in while Jim cried, each little hiccup causing the pain in his neck to increase sharply for a second.

Kane finished his meal, licking the wounds on his neck closed and walking back to the door.

"Fuck you." Jim whispered tearily under his breath.

To Jim's surprise, Kane spun right back around. "What did you just say to me?"

Jim realized instantly that he was in acute, terrible danger. Still kneeling and unwilling to stand, he got on his hands and knees and crawled backward, bumping against his bed. "H-how did you hear that?"

"I'm a vampire, you fucking moron. You think you can disrespect me like that!?" Kane advanced toward him.

Jim dropped flat on his stomach, shimmying fearfully under the bed. "I'm sorry!" He wasn't sorry, but he was scared, and that amounted to the same thing, in his new life. "Just give me a break, I'm a person! I got frustrated, okay? I'm sorry!"

"You are not a person." Kane scoffed. "You're food. My food."

The bed lifted up, leaving him exposed. Kane held it in the air near-effortlessly, like it wasn't 200+ pounds of metal and mattress. He set it down roughly to the side with a bang, causing Jim to flinch again as he scrambled into the corner.

It was useless. He had no protection, no way to defend himself against this monster. Jim let out a terrified squeak as Kane grabbed him by the hair, dragging him close.

He yelped as Kane pulled him up painfully. The air left him as Kane punched him hard in the gut, unable to curl up defensively with the iron grip in his hair.

“Don’t--”

Kane dealt him another blow, and Jim sobbed, the pain increasing exponentially as it layered on top of the first blow. “Here’s a hint: don’t try to tell me what to do when you’re already in deep shit.”

He threw him to the floor with a thud, and Jim took the opportunity to curl in on his abused stomach covering his head with his arms with a whimper.

Kane kicked him a few times, and Jim couldn’t help but try to scramble away, but it just got him kicked harder, so he stopped. By the time Kane was ready to stop as well, his body was covered in bruises and his face was covered in tears.

“Fucking behave next time.” Kane left with a slam of the door.

Jim didn’t have it in him to move his bed back like this, where Kane had haphazardly placed it in the middle of the room. He crawled back under it, just to feel a little more protected, even though he had all the proof in the world that nothing in this room could protect him from Kane.

@melodicnommer thank you so much for breaking my writer's block!

taglist:

@annablogsposts

@badluck990

@barebarb

@cc1010foxy

@ceph-the-writing-spook

@cicatrix-energy

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#ask #k&j ask #kane and jim drabbles #whump #my writing #vampire whumper #beating #whump writing

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epiclamer · 1 year

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...I would like to humbly ask...for...'Bait'...Part7?

Because like bro I just discovered u and I'm reading it and the it just ends like 😭😭

Welcome to the shitshow <3

@badblondebisexualboy @annablogsposts @vernilliom @those-damn-snippets

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Bait Pt. 7

Waking up felt like torture all over again. Their body ached and shivered, which only jostled their wounds and caused them more pain. The freezing air made their fingers pulse with a dull numbness and overall everything just hurt.

Hero wished they had dreamt it all, that Supervillain, Villain and their lone Henchman were all some delusional, feverish nightmare. But opening their eyes to come face to face with their capturer assured them it was all real.

Fortunately, or unfortunately—Hero wasn’t really sure—the only one left in the room besides themselves was the villain. Supervillain and their henchman must've left while they were out.

Thank god.

They were sure that another second spent with that monster would've lead to their death.

"You're up."

Dragging Hero from their own waking thoughts was enough to make their head throb with a terrible headache. One that promised to stick around for at least the rest of the day. They would've groaned or swore if it wasn't their torturer making the statement.

The hero decided their best bet in their situation, for the both of them, would be to simply not respond. Villain never seemed to have a problem with one-sided conversations before anyways.

Why would it matter now?

Shakily, the villain rose to their feet from where they had been previously crouched down on the ground. Huddled around an open first aid kit with the materials all splayed out around the floor like a work of modern art. "I was worried you wouldn't."

The villain looked uncomfortable. Like they wanted to do something with their fidgeting hands, but felt like it wasn't their place. Maybe they felt bad about torturing the hero...

Maybe.

Hero coughed up a laugh, head hitting the pole they were still tied to. "D-Didn't lose that much blood did I?"

At the villain's silence, Hero's shoulders drooped. Lightening the mood clearly wasn't working, but why? It used to work before, what had changed in the villain's demeanour?

After all, Hero was still just their captive. Their bait. Torture was to be expected all in all, they shouldn't have been that surprised.

"Hah, thought I-I would've held out longer than that--"

"Forty-five minutes is long. Most can barely last the half of that."

The hero raised an eyebrow, "On average?" Villain glared back slightly, the tiniest hint of relief sought under their hard shell. "I mean, you would know, r-right?" Hero did their best to shrug their shoulders in a placating gesture. "Torture is k-kind of your thing, no?"

Surprisingly, the villain did not take that how Hero had imagined. They pictured a boasting criminal, maybe a slight blush at being recognized for their skill, but this villain looked downright miserable.

"I'm sorry." They both whispered in unison. Neither of them had the strength to hold eye contact with the other. But the villain seemed surprised at the hero's apology.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

Hero had to laugh, they couldn't hold themselves back at that. Prompting a not-so-good sounding rattle from their chest, turning their chuckle into a wheezing cough. "'M guessing I-I didn't help you c-climb the ranks, g-got that to apologize for."

Villains expression changed, annoyance and then back to stone. "Would you stop trying to make this situation better."

The crime-stopper quieted down from their fit. A little hurt from the other's words, but they lent an ear out of respect.

"I fucked up, okay? I would've never had accepted Supervillain's request if I had known that they wanted to hurt you, or anyone else for that matter." They took a deep breath, hands coming to their face in a panic as their eyes started watering and their tone raised. "I never wanted this, I never wanted to hurt you, I never wanted to hand you over to Supervillain."

They stifled a sob, "I just wanted to climb the ranks. When they told me it was just a kidnapping, a hostage without hurt kind of situation, I couldn't have been more eager to jump at the opportunity."

The hero remained silent, watching as the villain poured out all of their stress and unkempt emotions. It was obvious that this breakdown had been impending ever since the Supervillain had even shown up. Hero couldn't imagine the pressure.

"Now, now I am even more fucked than I was in the first place. Because if I keep you here, Supervillain will just keep coming back and I don't want to keep hurting you. But if I let you go..." Villain shuddered, "Supervillain will skin me alive and the heroes will dump my body into a vat of rubbing alcohol."

It was true. The heroes were known to be ruthless to high-class villains, or any villain they could catch and keep hidden from the press. Hero had witnessed firsthand some of the living conditions--if you could earnestly even call that living--and it wasn't pretty.

And if they could talk to Superhero? Explain the situation and beg for the villain's mercy? It would be as bad as volunteering to take their place. Not only that, but would they? Would they actually try and talk to their boss about sparing their kidnapper?

The risk simply wasn't worth it. And after all the torture, all the blindfolds and gags and manhandling. Hero wasn't even convinced they wanted the villain to make it out of this situation.

Some twisted-sadistic part of them hoped they got caught. But as much as their torture wasn't fair, it wouldn't be fair to the villain either.

"I promise," Hero's mind snapped back to attention at the sound of Villain's voice. "I promise, I'll get you out of here."

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chaotic-orphan · 2 months

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Could you write a story where a king who outlawed magical beings (like fae, elves, sorcerers, etc Bc they’ve tried to kill him multiple times ) has a trial for a young magical creature found in his lands, but the creature isn’t evil, didn’t even KNOW they were trespassing, and is terrified they’re gonna be executed or tortured or something. But the king doesn’t hurt it, since the magical being didn’t mean any harm? Could turn into found family or he just lets it go or something

Love ur writing!!

A Benignant Mischief

@annablogsposts THIS ASK HAS CONSUMED MY EVERY WAKING THOUGHT SINCE I GOT IT! IN THE MIDST OF FEBUWHUMP NO DOUBT! THE GALL, THE NERVE!!!! I must say, this idea has taken hold of a good chunk of my brain and I have just been obsessed with Cosimo and Henrik (who will be introduced in part two), I hope you love them as much as I do. There is far more than this part written, but I had to divide it up to get some of it published so you didn't think it was just collecting dust in my inbox.

Thank you so much for this ask, it has rekindled an obsession with writing plot that isn't exclusively whump?! If that makes sense. I hope you enjoy it!

*~*~*~*~*

Cosimo ran through the forest with a sharp urgency, an unconscious boy cradled close to his chest as he went. The rain pattered down on his head as he ran, bare feet clawing at the ground to keep his grip. To an onlooker he could have been running on plain terrain instead over the wiry and rough forest, leaves slick with water; as if he were one with the Earth; knew every root, every nettle and broken tree bows that he hopped over with graceful ease.

His sharp eyes searched the forest frantically, pleading for a shelter to open up to them. Ahead was a wooden fence, tree branches crisscrossing before him like a blockade. Cosimo bowed his head and turned to the side, curling his upper body around the smaller one in his arms. Branches snapped and scratched at him as he pushed his way through with a determined resolve.

When he finally emerged from the branches, he found what he knew would be waiting for him. A small burrow made in a circle of trees, an opening in the trunk of a thick elfbow tree, the size of three fully grown oaks. A shelter mercifully presenting itself. Cosimo let out a soft sigh and whispered a soft thank you to the forest for providing.

His limbs grew heavier and heavier the closer he got to rest, but he walked on, slower now but just as strong as he was when he set out from court. He lay the boy in his arms down on a bed of leaves for the moment under the shelter of the elfbow. Cosimo touched the trunk as he entered, his heart feeling full as he did.

“Thank you protecting us,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to the entrance. Then he pressed his knuckles against the unconscious boy’s forehead, letting out a soft sigh. He was okay. Not as hot as he was before. Cosimo would gather food and herbs tomorrow to help the fever, but at least he was stable for now.

Cosimo took off his pack that he had hastily gathered from home. Two blankets, two pillows, a canteen of water, a hunting knife — just the essentials.

“The very bare necessities, Cosimo,” Cosimo chastised himself with a sigh, running a hand through his soaked hair flicking the rain from it. Cosimo put a pillow under the boy’s head and wrapped him in a blanket to keep him warm. Cosimo sat with back against the trunk of the tree, arms wrapped around his knees that he hugged to his chest and just watched the rain patted down on leaves outside the elfbow. The gloomy grey of the evening bled into a darker, broodier grey but the rain let up before night fell with its coat of deep purples and midnight blues.

Cosimo didn’t know at what point he fell asleep, but he woke to footsteps cracking the leaves beneath its feet and he was immediately alert. His hand shot and grabbed the hunting knife, unsheathing it and lunging forward teeth bared.

He came face to snout with a fox that was frozen in place, brown eyes meeting Cosimo’s with a slightly dazed and stunned glimmer to them. Cosimo let out a breath that reflected on the air with a rolling wave of smoke, before settling back into the nook-like shelter of the elfbow. The fox didn’t retreat, instead he sniffed the air and timidly took a step towards Cosimo and the unconscious boy beside him.

Cosimo inclined his head slightly and the fox entered the elfbow with all the inquisitiveness of a cat trying to sniff out the source of fish. The fox turned his head to the boy, and glancing back at Cosimo quickly for permission he curled up on the unconscious boy’s chest. Curling into a little ball on top of him, deep brown eyes meeting Cosimo’s again before closing half-lidded.

Emotion clogged Cosimo’s throat as he reached out to pet the fox, allowing the animal to sniff his hand before allowing the affection.

“See?” Cosimo whispered to the air. “You’re not nobody. You’re like me.”

Cosimo didn’t sleep exactly, but he at least got some semblance of rest before Dawn broke and he woke with it. He looked down at the sleeping boy, who was still asleep, the fox now curled up to the boy’s side. Cosimo reached his hand out and brushed the boy’s hair back from his forehead to feel it.

He was warm, not too hot. Maybe the fever had passed with the rain? Cosimo didn’t know enough about it, but he knew the rejuvenation powers of rain that came with him so he suspected maybe it could be the saviour of the boy too.

Cosimo drank some water from the canteen before grabbing the empty rucksack he took with him and slinging it over his shoulder across his body. He took the water and the hunting knife and set off about the day. When he exited the elfbow the sun was only starting to rise, birds heralding the morning.

Cosimo looked back to the sleeping boy and the fox. He pressed his hand to the tree and leaned his forehead into the back of his palm.

Protect them, please. I’ll return with food.

Cosimo felt the rush of feeling that flooded him when he felt around nature. Then he turned and walked out of the small clearing and into the embrace of the forest again. He remembered hearing running water when he was running with the boy, the sound distinct from the patter of the rain.

The dense woods were not nearly as imposing as they were the night before, when Cosimo’s thoughts were on finding shelter and nothing else. There should be some mushrooms nearby he could roast, maybe some berry bushes if he was lucky and water. Not enough to feed them properly, but to sustain them? It would be enough.

Cosimo found the stream under a thicket of leaves. It was slightly lower than the ground that Cosimo was on, so he simply extended a leg and slid down the bank to the stream, opening his canteen as he went. His feet settled into the damp earth, and he crouched down to refill the canteen. Not before drinking the last of the remaining water.

He heard a huff from his left so Cosimo glanced towards the sound and saw a horse lapping up water from the stream. Cosimo froze like the fox had the night before, before kicking himself into action. He sprung up, canteen forgotten in the stream and bolted back up the bank, his fingers clawing into the clay.

He scrambled to the top and was met with a pair of legs. There was a flash and a pressure on his chest and Cosimo was airborne, gravity grabbing at him and bringing him down hard into the outer bank of the stream. Cosimo let out a gasp of air on impact but quickly sprung to his feet and turned to hop the stream to the other side.

A hand grabbed him by the strap of his rucksack, and he was yanked backwards. “Hey! Wait!” Cosimo cried, bringing an elbow back sharply and his head back too. He slipped under the strap of his bag and grabbed the hunting knife and hopped the stream with ease. He didn’t look back.

Humans were bad. They killed people like him, there shouldn’t even be any for miles around!

Cosimo climbed up the opposite bank of earth with deft speed and hoisted himself to the other side, knife ready in one hand, the sheath in his other with one thought and one thought only — to go back to the boy in the elfbow.

He didn’t account for more soldiers to be on the other side of the stream. Cosimo froze again when he was first recognised by another man. They were all fully grown humans. Cosimo had yet to pass his fifteenth year, at least he had a slight boost in height, but he was too skinny to fight.

There wasn’t time to think before a hand was bunched in his shirt again. Cosimo whirled on his heel, slashing out blindly with the knife. The blade cut into the soldier’s cheek Cosimo realised with wide eyes, and the Soldier let him go. Cosimo fell to the side at the sudden lack of force holding him, but quickly got his bearings again and ran to the right of the soldier’s camp.

An arrow whizzed by his ear, startling him and Cosimo lunged to the left only to be caught with a kick to his leg. Cosimo stumbled but remained standing, turning to his new attacker baring his teeth only to get a punch to the face. Cosimo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell, stiff as an oak onto the forest floor.

A boot stomped down onto Cosimo’s wrist wielding the knife and Cosimo cried out, reaching over with his free hand to paw at the boot but it wouldn’t budge. A knee to the chest followed and Cosimo cried out, trying to wiggle himself free but the human was too heavy. Whether his weight was from his diet or the weight of the uniform of metal that the man wore Cosimo didn’t know.

“Well, well, well,” the human man remarked. Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling to free himself from the man’s pin. “You’re only a baby, aren’t you?”

Cosimo bared his teeth in response. They were so close to where Cosimo had left the boy and the fox, and he prayed that the elfbow would protect them from the soldiers.

“Let go of me,” Cosimo demanded, eyes blazing up at the man. The man smiled, something wicked twinkling in his eyes.

“Have you run away from home? You do know what we do to your people in these parts, don’t you?”

Cosimo let out a cry of frustration at trying and failing pathetically to free himself from the man’s grip.

“Please,” Cosimo said. “I don’t mean you any harm. I was just coming for water.”

“Won’t do harm my arse,” the soldier that Cosimo cut ground out, fury winding his features tight. Cosimo didn’t see him lift his leg, but his head whipped to the side with the impact. Cosimo righted his head too early as the man he injured stomped a foot down on Cosimo’s face.

Cosimo heard the bones in his nose crack inside his head while he screamed out loud, a quiet whimper following after his scream died in his throat.

“Hey!” The soldier pinning Cosimo growled. “You can’t kill it. They must be brought to court before their execution.”

Execution?

Cosimo’s struggles to break free renewed at the thoughts of the soldiers taking him away from the boy. “No! No, you can’t! I can’t leave the forest, please!”

The man above him tilted his lips down into a frown. “Sorry kid. Orders are orders, we have to bring ya in.”

“Don’t talk to it like it’s a child,” the angry soldier scolded. The man on top of him reached over and plucked the knife from Cosimo’s grip. Cosimo let out a soft whine at the object of his defence leaving his grasp.

“Just get the irons and let me deal with h—” the man above him said, then corrected himself, glancing down at Cosimo with a frown. “It.”

The angry man stormed off out of sight. Cosimo just stared above at the man still pining him to the forest floor.

“Please…” Cosimo tried. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Like I said kid,” said the man. “There has to be a trial in front of the king.”

Cosimo’s eyes widened significantly. There wasn’t a king for miles around court… how far had Cosimo travelled, and in what direction? The question lingered on his tongue, and he wanted to voice it, but thought better of asking the enemy… or even worse, letting them know just how clueless Cosimo really was.

The man stared down at Cosimo with a stern glance. “I’m going to get you to sit up, if you try to escape, we will catch you, and the other soldiers will hurt you again. Do you understand?”

Cosimo nodded. He hated himself for it, but he had to listen to this man. He seemed to be the only one who didn’t want him dead at that moment. The angry soldier returned with two bands of metal attached together with a thick link of metal between them.

“What— what are they?” Cosimo asked, his voice cracking with fear. The soldier helped Cosimo to sit up which caused a wicked amount of pain in his nose to flare up and Cosimo grunted with the effort.

The man took the metal from the angry soldier and dismissed him with a wave. The other soldier didn’t want to listen but obeyed the man when he told him to go verbally.

The man opened the metal loop and showed it to Cosimo, saying with a reassuring smile: “They open like this, see?”

Cosimo leaned in closer to inspect the metal. “What do they do?” He asked, a little less scared at seeing them up close. The man lifted his hand and put the metal over his own wrist.

“They tighten over your wrist like this, see? They lock— well, they essentially keep your hands tied behind your back so you can’t hurt someone again.”

Not have use of his hands. Cosimo shook his head vehemently. “No. No. I won’t hurt anyone else; I promise. Don’t put them on me.”

The man’s smile faded back into a frown. “I’m sorry, but I have to. Please don’t fight me. I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Cosimo was trembling in the man’s hands, but he nodded his consent for the man to grab Cosimo’s wrist. Cosimo screamed when the metal touched his wrist and bolted back away from the man.

“Wait! Please! Please! Wait! Ow, please! I won’t hurt anyone!” The man caught Cosimo’s ankle before he could get further away from him and dragged him back. “Please don’t. Please! I’ll be good.”

A shadow crossed the man’s face as he grabbed Cosimo’s arm and pulled it behind Cosimo’s back before locking the second cuff around Cosimo’s wrist.

Cosimo let out a hiss as the metal burned a circle around his wrists, tears coming to his eyes. “Please, I’m sorry. Take them off. I’m sorry. What— agh! What is it?!”

The man grabbed Cosimo’s arms to stop him struggling more and hurting himself. “Iron. It’s a metal that is poisonous to your kind.”

“Please,” Cosimo whispered, the plea coming out soft and childish, fat tears trailing down his cheeks. “Please take them off.”

“I can’t,” said the man. “I’m sorry,” and it sounded like he meant it. The man then got to his feet and waited patiently for Cosimo to do the same. Cosimo pushed himself up, his balance going off and he hissed as he moved his hands to catch himself. All they touched was iron and it burned. The man put a hand under Cosimo’s armpits once he saw the boy struggling and helped him into a standing position.

“Thank you,” Cosimo said, the words like ash on his tongue. Thanking humans now? What would court think of him? His mind trailed back to the boy in the elfbow and guilt flood his body as he was pushed forward gently by the man.

“Change of plan, boys. We are bringing this one back to the King.”

One of the other men stood up, his face the shape of a weasels; small wisps of hair clung to his upper lip and chin in what Cosimo could only assume was supposed to be a beard and a moustache. The soldier lifted his nose high in the air when he looked up at Cosimo, grinning up at him and revealing yellowing teeth.

“It’s not even fully grown,” said the soldier with a high-pitched voice. The nice man holding Cosimo scoffed and pushed Cosimo forward again.

“Either are you, McClagen.”

“Does it know that we kill things like that?” McClagen sneered. The man didn’t reply, but Cosimo’s fate weighed heavy on him, heavier than a cloak made of stone. He frowned as the nice man led him passed the other Soldiers readying to take off again.

—

Continued here

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not-a-space-alien · 1 month

Text

Savage Sunset Choose Your Own Adventure 29

Story masterpost

Series is for 18+ audiences only!

All entries in the CYOA

So, I've realized I'm not as excited about the CYOA as I have been in the past, which is why I've been taking so long between entries. But instead of abandoning it, I'm going to finish it off and make it have an even 30 parts. This will be the last entry where you can choose which direction it goes in, so let's decide together what the ending will be! No nuance, you have to pick one option here, and I will write something to cap it off nice and neat by extrapolating from the vibes here.

***

"....What? Mushrooms? Why?"

Valen immediately goes red all the way to the tips of his ears, which twitch. "They're naturally high in a compound that is of interest to me for a research project." He sounds mortified to be talking about this. "I'm sorry. I won't come back for them. I'll forget all about it. That's all it was. I would never come here to harm any humans."

"Um," Felix says. "I don't really get it, but that's too silly to make up as a lie, I guess."

Valen sinks down, shoulders at his ears, not making eye contact.

Well, now you know. The vampire you've rescued was here collecting mushrooms for a research project. He seems...decent enough.

***

@aceouttatime

@annablogsposts

@cc1010foxy

@darlingwhump

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

@dokidokisadness

@emcscared-whumps

@gt-daboss

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@nicolepascaline

@oddsconvert

@pigeonwhumps

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@scoundrelwithboba

@starfields08000

@some-thrilling-heroics

@soursagas

@thecyrulik

@the-scrapegoat

@vidawhump

@whuarri

@whumplr-reader

@whump-cravings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpycries

@whumpsday

@writereleaserepeat

#SSCYOA #interactive story #interactive whump #vampire whumpee #whump #whumpblr

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raineandsky · 9 months

Note

Could you please write a story where a fae and a human have been friends for about a year. However, the human finds out what the fae is, and freaks out, thinking the fae is toying with him or wanting to make him his servant or something. When in reality, the fae had always watched humanity from afar, and just wanted to play along to see what it was like to have genuine friends?

Ooooo this one was fun, always love somethin a lil different!! Hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing :D thanks for the request!

“You can’t trick me into one of your fairy circles or whatever. I’m not stupid.”

The human is saying this like the fae would even be able to do that from here. He’s poised with a pocket knife that his mother probably gave him to explore in the woods, on the other side of a ring of twigs that he knows the fae can’t pass.

The fae had blended in pretty well up until yesterday. His fae status had started to feel like it didn’t even matter. Well, it didn’t matter until the human wandered where he shouldn’t and found out the truth about him. The fae’s ability to pass between worlds seemed to give him a little bit of a shock, to say the least.

He’d said it was fine, but today the fae has found himself sitting in a fairy trap that the human purposely laid out for him. Clearly his trust was a little more broken than he let on.

“I’m not trying to trick you with anything. I don’t know how to prove something I’m not doing,” the fae says with a bright smile, and the human’s frown deepens.

“Y–You know my real name,” he counters.

“And have I used it yet?”

There’s a moment where the human is clearly trying to think of something incriminating, and the fae waits patiently for him to come to the inevitable answer. “But you might,” is the thrilling conclusion he comes to, and the fae can’t help but laugh.

“Believe me, if I wanted to have power over you I’d have taken it by now.” The weirdness of his words is contrasted by the innocent smile on his face. Everything about him seems innocent, really, with the oddly friendly demeanour and the soft, dreamlike aura. His supposed innocence is how he got here in the first place, and how he miraculously managed to make a friend within the first day of arriving.

Said friend is still looking unconvinced but doesn’t say anything, so the fae carries on in his stead. “I was just… I don’t know. Your world is so nice, and humanity is so interesting, so I thought it’d be nice to explore a little. You understand that, don’t you?”

He gestures vaguely to the thick covert of trees around them, and the human briefly glances about as well. “Besides,” he continues, “I got to meet a really nice human, just like I always wanted.”

The human positively beams at that, before the fae returns it and he catches himself.

“I don’t know…” His little knife is trembling in his hand like he’s facing a tiger. “I don’t know. What’s the big deal about being here if it’s not about stealing people away?”

The fae’s expression dampens, possibly for the first time since they met. “Well, I’m a little lonely in the fairy realm, to be honest.” He runs a hand through the grass in front of him, careful not to tear any of the blades out. “The other fae are always so serious and busy all the time. I thought I might have more luck making friends here.”

The human’s face softens slightly, his knife drooping in his grasp. “Me too,” he says with a short nod. “I don’t have any friends at school. People are mean sometimes.”

“Well that’s not fair,” the fae says dramatically. “I can’t really come to your school, but I can be your friend. Maybe one day I’ll even magic the mean people away.”

The hostility is dropped almost instantly at the mention. “You can do magic?”

The fae grins with an ecstatic nod. “I have some pretty cool party tricks.”

The human takes a step forward, nerves flattened by burning curiosity. “Can… Can you do something?”

“Well…” The fae glances at the array of twigs encircling him like nature’s halo. “Not in here. Traps dampen my magic. If you break the circle I can get out.”

The curiosity burns a little less brightly for a moment. “Are you gonna, like… kidnap me?”

The fae shrugs nonchalantly, a tame smile tracing his lips. “Not unless you want me to.”

The human deliberates, staring him down like he’s waiting for him to admit something. He stays quiet, staring back with a lot less suspicion and a lot more kindness, so after a moment the human steps forward to kick some of the twigs out of formation.

The fae springs to his feet to test the edge of the circle. He takes a careful step through, and when it’s obvious that it’s harmless he passes it completely. He sighs blissfully at the flow of magic washing over him once again.

“Thank you,” he says genuinely after a moment. “I feel a lot better now.”

The human nods shortly. “Can you… uh…”

The fae laughs brightly, and it’s like nothing ever went wrong. “Yeah, wanna see something cool?”

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #fantasy writing #fantasci writing #annablogsposts #requests #this was an interesting one!! was fun to try somethin a lil different to my usual

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whumpcloud · 4 months

Note

cornered animal for vincent :)

content: vampire whumpee, self-hatred, threats, dehumanisation

Vincent hates being on his hands and knees like this, but he can't deny that it's gettng more comfortable, more normal. He's safer when he puts himself beneath them.

It's a horrid feeling that crawls under his skin, being below someone again. It's easier than believing he's worth more than anyone around him. So much easier. Is that because it's true?

Vincent doesn't let himself think about the implications. He is a contradiction and he is happy to stay that way. Some part of him clings onto the idea that he's only doing this to survive, that he's still better than this. Beliefs buried under his fingernails like dirt. Clinging, scratching, breaking.

"Please, please," Vincent begs, barely making any sound at all.

"Can't hear you," Sawyer sings, twirling a knife in his hands.

Vincent crawls backwards, away from Sawyer, but he never really gets any further from the man. He just gets closer to being backed up against the wall, with no hope of escape.

"Tell me what you are," Sawyer smirks, holding up the silver knife to Vincent's jaw.

Vincent wants to answer with something he would have said before. That he's a vampire, something powerful, something with worth. A beast to be afraid of.

That's what he is, a stupid, snarling, selfish beast, backed into a corner.

"A leech," Vincent whimpers. "A monster. How many more times do you need me to say it?"

"As many as I feel like," Sawyer grins.

He isn't ready to let go and give in yet.

Soon, maybe. Not yet.

taglist: @whumpsday @whumpycries @whumpwillow @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @whumpshaped @chiswhumpcorner @melancholy-in-the-morning @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @bloodinkandashes @whump-me-all-night-long @sickophantic @itsmyworld23 @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @thebirdsofgay @maracujatangerine @neverthelass @magziemakeswhatever @whatwhumpcomments

#polly's prose #things end | people change #vincent maddox #whump #whump writing #sorry for everyone who sent me stuff i PROMISE i'm getting them done agahdf

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 10 months

Text

Short Prompt # 13

Decided to spice things up with villain x villain instead of my usual hero x villain.

TW: None!

"I've never cared for a thing in the world, love," the villain purred, tracing the perfect curve of their lover's jaw, lazily trailing their finger down to their neck.

"I know," the other villain breathed out heavily, refusing to meet their gaze.

"But you, on the other hand," they started, pressing a slow, delicate kiss to the other's cheekbone, "occupy a space in my mind that continues to spread, like poison in the bloodstream. And I just can't fathom living without it."

"You had. . .ambitious plans, I did, too," the other villain reminded them, their tone sober, but their eyes half-lidded, peeking out beneath gorgeous, dark lashes, letting their fingers intertwine with those of their paramour's.

The criminal pulled them into their lap effortlessly, making their now shallow breath catch in their throat as they temporarily let go of their hands. They could feel their partner's strong arms bracketing around them, their hands in theirs again, their fingers skirting over their sweetheart's knuckles in soothing motions.

"And what's stopping us from doing everything we've ever desired, together?" they whispered, voice velvety against the other's ear.

"Vulnerabilities," they concluded, treacherously kissing the crown of the second evil-doer's hair in spite of their dismal words. Or word, actually.

To their surprise, the villain chuckled. "Darling," they crooned, their hands now toying with the fabric of their flame's silk shirt, "we are not heroes. We do not love in the weak-willed way they do, no sacrifices for the greater good or whatever spiel they believe in. You and I make each other stronger, so what if we enjoy ourselves in the process? Even hardened hearts like ours need someone to belong to."

They eased their fingers out of the other's hands, tracing patterns into the skin of their arms, rubbing the lean muscles tenderly, smiling a little to themselves as they watched the tight line of their shoulders fade.

"Well, there's no holding back, now, lovely," the other villain said with a grin, pressing a passionate kiss to their jawline.

Their villanous lover laughed, a genuine, musical sound. The world was theirs, and more importantly, so was the beautiful villain in their lap.

Previously, both villains had feared love, thought of it as a trap, something to clip their wings. Foolish reminisces of naïve minds. They'd never imagined they could feel so free. Nothing felt like pure ecstasy, unbridled euphoria coursing through their veins the same way that this did. It tasted sweet, felt intoxicating, set their hearts on fire, the same flames that would soon consume the world, leaving only their names written in ash and smoke.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @usernotfound000 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

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thewhumperinwhite · 1 month

Text

WKW: Spine

Masterpost // Previous

@annablogsposts @whump-cravings @whumpitywhumpwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @favwhumpstuff @the-monarch-whumperfly @iboopsstuff (also: i finally added a taglist to my main wkw doc, so please send me a message if you wanna be on that list)

TW for: back injury; burns; Magical Injury/painful healing; guilt; Injury To The Degree That It Is Kind Of Body Horror; potential/partial paralysis; referenced past abuse/murder; referenced noncon; nonsexual nudity (brief/implied).

----

Night has barely fallen when they bring the dying Prince to Feira’s salon. By the time she has stitched him together enough to leave him sleeping on her table, his face shadowed and aura flickering but death no longer crouching on his chest, the sun is streaming through the salon’s single window and directly into Feira’s eyes. She collapses back into the single chair that sits opposite her table, wiping sweat and stray strands of grey hair from her forehead with the least bloody part of her sleeve.

It should not have taken this long.

Spines are delicate things, and the care with which she knits one back together will mean the difference between a Prince who someday walks again and one who doesn’t; but she has studied the inner workings of the spine extensively, ever since she put the Prince’s back together from whole cloth after his botched execution. This was never going to be easy, but it should certainly be possible.

It takes her twenty long, harrowing minutes to identify the problem, as she has never encountered anything quite like it before. The iron manacle, clamped to the stump of the Prince’s wrist, is drinking in her magic. Sucking it up like a rag in a puddle. By the end of that first twenty minutes, she is sweating with effort, the Prince is still writhing with the effort of each breath, and when she happens to brush the manacle with the back of her hand, she draws back with a hiss. The metal is hot enough to burn her skin.

Feira is familiar with iron as an insulator against magical energy, of course. Magic-resistant armor is always made of iron; one of the earliest ways to recognize magical aptitude in a child is a rash-like reaction to the touch of iron. But she’s never seen anything like this before. She takes hold of the Prince’s wrist to examine the manacle—seeing, now, the way his skin is already reddening from the heat—and sees the unfamiliar rune welded into the metal. It can be no accident: it must be an intentional damper on the Prince’s magic.

There are—implications, there. About the fall of Fourshield House; about claims that the White Crane has made. None of which Feira has time to think about now, while the Prince is dying on her table, and she does not have the key to his cursed shackle.

It is—not an insurmountable obstacle. But it does mean that Feira must dig deeper into her Patron’s magical reserves than she ever has before, must strain her own aura to the point of pain and dig deeper into the Prince’s soul than she would ever have done given the choice—and must close her eyes to how the skin of his arm reddens and then blisters. The Prince slips in and out of awareness throughout the night; sometimes he is even awake enough to beg for mercy, though he never seems coherent enough to know who his torturer is, and Feira is shamefully grateful for that.

In the end, he still—has an arm, however useless it is without a hand attached. It is a horrible sun-scorched red up to the elbow; the place where the manacle once touched skin has burned down deep into the flesh beneath; in between the skin has bubbled and blistered in ways that make Feira have to stop in the middle and waste seconds she doesn't have gulping air and trying not to be sick. And even then—a spine is a finnicky thing. She may have twisted his arm beyond repair without even returning the use of his legs. She doesn’t know. Certainly he will be well within his rights to hate her to the end of his days, for these hours of torture if not for the years of neglect that preceded them.

But he does not die.

----

Thorne does not expect to fall asleep, not even when he gives up on pacing the hallway and sits down outside the Healer’s door with his forehead pressed to his knees and his eyes squeezed shut. Andry is not screaming as much, by then. Thorne doesn’t know if that means the pain has lessened, or the Prince’s throat has simply given out.

He doesn’t know how long he sleeps; he doesn’t even know it's happened until he hears his Master’s voice—he knows it immediately, even in sleep, and is halfway to his feet before he is fully awake or his Master has finished the sentence—say, “What are you doing here?”

Thorne snaps to attention, though he has to grab the wall to keep from falling over while his vision clears. Morden is looking at him with blank surprise but no anger, thank the gods. Morden looks like he hasn't slept, either, and for some reason there is a smudge of blood near one corner of his jaw, like he has tried to wipe it away and not quite succeeded.

“Master,” Thorne says, his mind blessedly blank with relief. “I was—” Part of him knows he is not being careful enough, that he is too tired and wrung out to pay attention to what he says, that he must no better, by now, than to speak to his Master without thinking first.“Someone—I wanted to—they almost killed him, Master,” he blurts out. He sounds like a child to his own ears; high pitched and near tears.

Morden blinks at Thorne. Thorne cannot read his Master's face. That sends an immediate spike of panic into Thorne's guts that brings him halfway back into his body, thankfully. He pulls himself together, with a mighty effort, and bows his head properly, like he is giving an ordinary report, and his voice is almost steady, this time.

“There was an attempt on the Summer Prince’s life, Master,” Thorne says, without lifting his head. “I was—absent from my quarters at the time. I apologize for not taking more care with your gift.”

He should say more. He should tell Morden about the guards. Even if... they were enlisted men, not officers, but Morden might still notice their absence. Thorne didn’t even think to look around the Healer’s room' their bodies might be right inside the door for all he knows. He should tell Morden.

(The word "gift" shouldn't make his mouth fill up with bile, like he's going to gag on what his Master has given him. He should be anticipating his Masters needs and striving to meet them. He shouldn't be thinking about his Master's needs and feeling—feeling—)

(Morden, for his part, is afflicted with a strong desire to laugh. Thorne, his head still bowed, does not see this. Morden schools his features carefully before Thorne meets his eyes.)

“…I see,” Morden says. “And was that attempt successful?”

Thorne shakes his head.

“No, Master,” he says. “No, he—he’s alive. But—I—they—” The words do not want to come. But his Master is watching, so he makes them. “His back is broken, I think,” he says, though it comes out thin and whispery and wrong.

Morden raises his eyebrows. Thorne looks at the blood on his Master’s jaw. His Masters next words are muffled by the sudden buzzing in Thorne’s ears.

“I imagine he'll be fine,” Morden says, and brushes past him to open the Healer’s door.

----

Andry knows the ceiling of the Healer’s room as soon as he opens his eyes. It is decorated with vines and fruit and beehives, sculpted out of white plaster, cracked a little with age.

He feels cracked that way himself. He doesn’t try to move his arm, but even in stillness it feels

(like it is filled with crawling insects who are eating it from the inside like old wood like it is in a sleeve of struck matches like it has swollen so far that the skin has split like rotten meat left in the sun)

bad.

The door of the Healer’s room opens. Andry does not see who has entered, at first; he only sees Lady Feira, the old Court Healer, leap to her feet, placing herself bodily between him and the intruder.

“No,” Lady Feira says, in thickly-accented Leisevan. “No visitors. Get out.”

“Now is a bad time to be in my way, Madam Healer,” the Winter King says in a soft, gentle voice. His Craetan is very good, as always.

Andry feels his heart stutter painfully in his chest, but it has been a long, long night, and he is too tired to feel properly afraid.

Lady Feira is shaking her head. “No. It is enough. You have done enough, you will do no more, I will not—”

Andry takes hold of the Healer’s wrist with his good hand. She stills, though he can feel that she is trembling slightly.

“It’s alright, Feira,” he rasps.

Lady Feira turns to look down at him, over her shoulder. She looks—stricken in a way he has never seen her look before, even when his fever came back a few weeks after his back had begun to heal. He might feel sorry for her, in a few hours. He is too tired for it, just at the moment.

Lady Feira removes her spectacles and rubs her eyes, letting her shoulders sag and not looking at either Andry or Morden.

“Fine,” she says, after a moment, in Craetan. “Fine. Speak, Winter King; but do no more or you will waste the hours I have just spent keeping the Prince alive.”

Andry can see just enough of Morden over the Healer’s shoulder to see him cross his arms and raise his eyebrows at her expectantly. The Healer swears under her breath. She turns back to Andry.

“Don’t try to move,” she says curtly. Her expression seems more under control, though her eyes are still tight with misery. “I won’t go far.”

It’s—kind enough, as a sentiment. Andry knows she can do less than nothing against Morden, any more than he can. It’s nice that she's—thinking of him, he supposes.

Morden watches her leave. When she has closed the door behind her, he turns to look down at Andry, narrowing his black eyes.

Morden pulls up the Healer’s chair and sits down beside the sickbed. The Healer has draped a blanket across Andry's chest; it is the only thing between him and the Winter King. Andry tucks his ruined arm underneath it.

“Alright, Summer Prince," Morden says. "You've got my attention. Tell me about your sister.”

#the winter king's ward #original whump #fantasy whump #royalty whump #broken bones #magical healing #painful healing #guilt #manipulative whumper #brainwashing and manipulation #<-it's not like Being Done in this chapter but thorne is. Feeling Some Cognitive Dissonance and he Doesn't Like It #back injury tw #burns tw #referenced noncon

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 4 months

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Alright Eden taglist. Would you like to be tagged in the rewrite of Eden? I really appreciate the support you guys have given me but I also don't want to spam your notifications if you're no longer interested. I won't be offended if you say no, I just need to know who to include.

@hugh-lauries-bald-spot @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenlyeden @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @i-eat-worlds @suck-my-cl1t @scp-1296 @chiswhumpcorner @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpkinz @dokidokisadness @roguetelepaths @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @a-crumb-of-whump @pixelated-whump

#abraham original: hot off the press #Eden #A taste of paradise

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serickswrites · 3 months

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Bring VIII

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, unconsciousness, rescue, knife, stabbing

Right Hand wasn’t sure how long they were out for, all they knew is that when they woke, Sidekick was still hanging in their chains, chin still touching their chest. Blood dribbled down their chest, but that was nothing new. Right Hand breathed a sigh of relief as they realized they probably hadn’t been unconscious long.

They looked up to see what had woken them so suddenly. Hero and Villain faced off in the doorway, bloody knife gripped tightly in Villain’s hand.

“You took them, so I came. Let them go, Villain,” Hero’s voice was calm and quiet, but Right Hand could see the rage blazing in their eyes.

“I’ll be doing no such thing!” Villain lunged forward, knife flashing in the light.

“Look out!” Right Hand rasped, their throat raw from screaming.

Hero didn’t need the warning. They gracefully sidestepped Villain’s knife and plunged their own weapon into Villain’s side. Hero kicked Villain in the face as Villain hunched over the wound. Villain dropped and Hero continued forward.

“Can you walk?” Hero asked Right Hand carefully as they started towards Sidekick. “Sidekick needs me to carry them. I can’t carry both of you.”

Right Hand didn’t understand. Why would they need to walk with Hero?

“My vehicle is waiting just around the block. I’ll get us to Base no problem, but I need to know if you can walk.”

Hero was…helping them? “I…I…I can walk,” Right Hand rasped. At least they were pretty sure.

“Good.” Hero quickly released Right Hand from the cuffs. Right Hand stumbled, but caught themself before they face planted. “Are you sure you can walk?”

Right Hand nodded. “Help them,” they nodded at Sidekick.

Right Hand blinked as they tried to stand up all the way. The pain was overwhelming. It was going to take everything in them to walk to Hero’s vehicle. They grit their teeth against the pain and looked up again. Sidekick was in Hero’s arms, chin still tucked into their chest, their head resting against Hero’s shoulder. They looked like they were peacefully asleep, but Right Hand knew that wasn’t the case. Sidekick likely had some sort of infection in their open wounds. But they were safe now. Safe and could heal.

“This way,” Hero said as they started off towards the door. “It’s not far,” they said over their shoulder.

Right Hand barely heard them. They were so focused on putting one foot in front of the other without passing out. They were so consumed by their pain, by their fight against unconsciousness that they didn’t realize they were outside.

“Just round this corner,” Hero murmured.

Right Hand looked up to see Hero’s vehicle in the predawn light. Relief flooded them as they sank to their knees. Right Hand heard Hero’s sharp, “Ah, hell,” as they fell into the darkness that had been encroaching their vision.

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