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[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 12: Broken Bone

WARNINGS: pain, tension, possibly unrealistic medical care? it's fine, vampires, magical powers, aftercare

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“Rowan, please, will you just hold still so I can look at it?” Damia grumpily requested, cocking one hip out in annoyance.

“You’re the one who did it! Why would I let you look at it?!” Rowan spat back, clutching her ribs and trying her best to breathe as shallowly as she could. Fuck, this shit was no joke.

Damia rolled her eyes, “I only did it to prove a point. If you had listened in the first place, you’d be able to stand on your own right now.”

Glowering, Rowan rested her head against the wall as she sat as motionlessly as she could. Of course Damia only broke her ribs to prove a point or teach her a lesson or whatever it was today. Typical.

Nodding in approval of Rowan’s obedience, Damia reached a gentle hand to the hem of her shirt, raising it to get a better look at her wounds. Immediately, she noted that at least two of the ribs were cracked, and at least one more bruised. Damia sighed. If Rowan would just listen, these things wouldn’t have to happen.

“Alright, we need to get you up,” Damia said matter-of-factly, dropping her shirt and standing, ready to reach down and scoop Rowan up into her arms.

“Excuse me? No, thanks. I don’t fancy shooting pain just so you can drop me somewhere else to sit forever while this shit heals. I’ll just stay here, thanks,” Rowan retorted, wincing at the movement that came with her gesticulations as she spoke. Worth it, but still.

Damia’s eyes darkened, tired of her games, “I’ll move you whether you like it or not. It isn’t up to you. Are you ever going to learn that?”

Rowan gave her a wry smile, “Nope.”

Exasperated, Damia threw up her hands, “Fine! You want to spend the night on the floor with nothing to keep you from moving those stupid ribs? Be my guest. Good luck.”

With that, Rowan was alone.

She usually enjoyed the silence, but the longer she stayed with Damia, the more she learned that the silence usually led to an odd form of punishment for her. Damia would pout for days, not feed her, keep her chained up in her room. Rowan often wondered what Damia got up to during that time.

After a few minutes of trying to shift her position and instead just causing tears to stream down her face, Rowan hung up her pride for a moment and called out, “Damia?”

There was no response. Damia wanted her to beg now, Rowan knew it. She mustered up the courage to allow the words to fall past her lips, “Damia, please, I need your help. I’ll be good, just please. Help me.”

Damia appeared next to Rowan in the blink of an eye, “Now was that so hard?”

Immediately, she bent down, careful not to jostle Rowan too much as she swept her off the floor, carrying her off to some well-prepped, very clean-looking medically stocked room.

“What in the hell do you use all of this for? You’re a vampire,” Rowan stated.

“And you think you’re the first human to be inside these walls?” Damia asked, not looking at her as she gathered bandage wraps and some sort of brace.

Rowan swallowed. She hadn’t thought about that before, about what Damia had done before Rowan. About who she’d known. A pang of jealousy shot through her, but she immediately shut that shit down. What was she jealous of? Someone else being tortured by a psychopathic loner out in the woods?

“I’m not a loner, we’ve been over this,” Damia responded to the thoughts in Rowan’s head. She turned toward her with a bundle of supplies to help make Rowan’s injuries a little more bearable. “I have you.”

“Yeah, and that’s so fun for the both of us,” Rowan snarked, rolling her eyes.

“Do you want my help or not?” Damia growled, irritated.

Rowan inclined her head, and Damia got to work, bandaging and securing Rowan’s broken ribs to her freefall of curses and swears as she dealt with the sharp pain each time Damia wound the bandage around her. It was as though she was being thrown across the room again each time, the sound of the concrete crunching her bones ringing in her ears. She let out cries of pain every now and again, but for the most part, Rowan felt she handled herself pretty well.

“There. That should hold you together until the bones heal,” Damia said, packing away her kit of medical supplies back into the cabinets she grabbed them from.

“Hey, um… thank you,” Rowan acknowledged her kindness awkwardly. She wasn’t used to Damia being so… caring. She couldn’t understand it.

Damia cleared her throat, “Yes, well… don’t get used to it. I just need you in better shape if you’re going to be of any use to me in the future.” She wouldn’t make eye contact with Rowan the entire time she spoke.

“Right, sure, yeah. Makes sense.” The air between them was heavy with discomfort and something else. Something tense and indistinguishable. It turned Rowan’s cheeks bright pink.

“Would you like help to your room?” Damia asked as nonchalantly as she could, though she was pretty sure that if her heart still beat, it would be racing. Wildly.

“No, no, I’m sure I can make it there myself,” Rowan quickly remarked, “you did a great job with this.”

The two of them stayed in their places for an exorbitant amount of time, waiting for the other to make the first move, both trapped in their uncertain feelings about what they were experiencing.

Eventually, Rowan couldn’t handle it. It was all too weird, too new. She delicately hopped off the table Damia had placed her on, and her movement sent Damia into action.

“I’ll just go check on some things that need tending to, then,” Damia muttered, scurrying out of the room. Rowan exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Slowly, she made her way up the stairs, clutching the railing for help as she shuffled along. When she made it to her room and shut the door, she stared off in thought for a moment. What had just happened back there? Was Damia being… kind?

And did she like it?

She shook her head, then winced again at the pain. Deciding it was probably best to get some rest, she slipped into her plush, four poster bed and nearly immediately her eyes shut, sending her into a deep, comforting sleep, the kind she hadn’t experienced for a long, long time.

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @borikenlove @cryptidcryin @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 11: Alt. Option 1, Nightmares

WARNINGS: nightmares, knives, blades, blood, injuries, hair-pulling, torture, stress positions, balancing, vampires, imprisonment, panic

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Nell shrieked, the tip of the blade dragging across her open wounds, creating a painting with her freshly spilled blood, still warm and flowing down her bare torso.

it wasn’t that it hurt, at least not now. it was the implication of what had to come, and what was assuredly going to come again. A reactionary response that she regretted, but couldn’t contain. It had just been too long.

“Hush, now, you sweet thing. You’re breaking my concentration,” Damia purred, never looking up from her design. Nell’s skin was raw, and the knife was scratching just harshly enough to cause Nell to jerk involuntarily, earning her a hard slap across the face each time she did. This most recent one was number five. “You’re going to ruin my picture,” she chided, poking her softly in a miraculously untouched patch of skin.

“P—please,” Nell stuttered, desperate for a breath that never came to her, “please— stop.”

Damia looked up, pulling the blade away. She gave Nell a sickening smile, reaching up around her head and yanking backward, causing Nell to cry out, her scalp screaming back at her. “We seem to have lost our manners today, haven’t we?” Damia taunted, pulling down harder on Nell’s hair. The column of her neck was exposed, the protuberance of her throat bobbing up and down as she coaxed back in her newest yelp from the tip of her tongue.

Nell teetered back and forth atop an overturned wooden pail, the rim of which was uneven and ever wobbling as her toes danced across its bottom, reaching for leverage and sympathy as she swung from the rafters of the room by her wrists. She’d been like this for days now, the balancing act of keeping this nearly useless bucket beneath her in the hopes that it could one day give her a moment of grace from her fraying nerves. Not to mention the torture. And Nell really, really didn’t want to mention the torture.

Damia licked her lips before slowly trailing her tongue up the length of Nell’s neck, causing Nell to shiver violently again, nearly losing her balance completely. A deep chuckle emanated from Damia’s throat.

“You have much to learn, little one. Let’s start with one very important lesson: you do not ask for anything; it is not your place. Hopefully this won’t take you long to learn, or things will go very, very poorly for you,” Damia muttered.

She opened her mouth wide and sank her fangs into Nell, who took it like the good girl she was supposed to be. She didn’t make a noise, even as she started to lose consciousness as her vision turned fuzzy around the edges. Finally, after what felt like hours, Nell’s head dropped.

—

Nell bolted awake, panting, her chest heaving in and out so deeply that she feared for a moment she might break her ribs. Frantically she looked around her, spotting dim cell walls, a small, barred window letting in moonlight, and another figure sleeping underneath it. She felt beneath her, hands gripping soft sheets and feeling the chunky old mattress beneath her. She was back in her cell with Sadie and Narkissa.

Immediately her hands flew to her neck, but no marks remained. A dream, then. A nightmare. Her breathing slowed. She wasn’t strung up anymore. She rolled her neck, hearing the satisfying pops and cracks as she loosened the joints. She tested her shoulders as well, finding them reacting to her quite normally. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

She laid back down, staring at the ceiling, trying to forget what she’d relived. Nell was fairly certain that she’d been recalling her first few weeks at Damia’s mansion. Well, in the dungeon, anyway. Suddenly, she was immensely grateful to be able to lay back, rest her body, stretch her arms out in any direction she wanted.

Slowly, she turned over, curling up into a ball beneath the blanket she’d been given. It was going to be fine, she was going to be fine.

Nell was awake for a few hours before she fell back asleep, exhaustion overwhelming her desire not to go back to that horrid place.

When the dream started again, Nell shrieked as the tip of a blade raked across her open, bleeding wounds.

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @borikenlove @cryptidcryin @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 10: "I won't leave you"

WARNINGS: arguing, tension, sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension, self sacrifice, martyr complex, sexual situations, light bondage, gags, teasing, noncon bondage, well it's consensual initially and then turns noncon kind of

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“I guess you’ll just have to tell me again,” Heath replied, cocking his hip, his hands pressed defiantly atop them.

Auden sighed, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t want to be the bad guy here. He didn’t want Heath to react this way. After all of the shit they had been through, he honestly thought he would understand.

“It’s not safe for you. I’m not safe for you,” Auden explained again, his voice tired, rundown.

“Since when do you get to decide that for me?” Heath huffed, clearly agitated. Maybe this was good. Maybe Auden could use that to his advantage.

He hated when he thought in terms of advantage.

“Since I was born thousands of years before you,” Auden snapped, locking his gaze with Heath’s. Two could play the stubborn game.

Heath snorted in response, “You want to play the age card here?”

“When you want to act like a child, I will bring up the fact that, to me, you are one. Twenty-six years old does not a sapient make,” Auden countered, crossing his arms. He needed more. He needed a moment where he could make Heath leave him. Couldn’t he see it was for his own good?

Grumbling and throwing up his arms in protest, Heath turned away, walking toward the bed in the cozy inn room they’d been sharing for a few weeks now. Auden watched him with fascination. Even when he was angry with him, Auden loved the way he walked. The way he reacted, how the tips of his ears turned bright red, betraying his usually well-practiced mask. He loved how deeply his chest heaved as he thought through how to respond. Auden knew Heath wasn’t as childish as he made it sound; although, to an immortal, Heath was barely an infant. He was fresh and young and sweet and naïve and everything that Auden had fought to hold as his over over the past millennia. And it was that death grip he tried to keep that killed them every single time.

“You’re only proving my point, Heath,” Auden rolled his eyes, arms still crossed. He let out a slow, heavy breath.

Heath whipped around, “And what point is that, exactly? What exactly are you telling me?” His eyes were bright and watchful and hurt.

Auden swallowed hard as he chose his words carefully, “That I have to go. And you… have to stay.” He did his best to say it as matter-of-factly as possible.

That didn’t do him any favors.

Tapping his foot, Heath waited for a better explanation, for more. And waited. And waited. And when none came, he blew a gasket.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? That you want to leave me, after everything we’ve been through together?!” he could feel his cheeks heating up, but he no longer cared.

“It’s because of everything we’ve been through together that it has to be this way!” Auden raised his voice, taking a step forward. He had to make Heath see, make him understand. “None of it would have happened if you hadn’t been with me. I’m poison, Heath! And the fact that you can’t see that means that you’ll never be safe as long as you live!”

“What if I told you that I wanted it to happen, hm?” Heath asked, freezing Auden in his tracks. “What if I told you that I would go through all of that shit again, twofold, if it meant that it was the only way I’d ever get to meet you? Ever get to know you?” He took a step toward Auden, who remained unmoving, “What if I told you I don’t care if I’m safe because I get to be with you?”

A tear rolled down Auden’s cheek, “Heath, please. Don’t say that.”

“Why? Because it’s true? And vulnerable? And real?” Heath moved so close that he could reach out and take hold of Auden’s hand, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “Is that really so bad?”

A low moan leapt from Auden’s throat, and Heath knew he had him.

“I don’t ever want to be without this, without you. I don’t think I could survive. I’d be a shell. You are everything to me. Why can’t you see that?” Heath lowered his voice, being so close to Auden now.

A shaky sigh escaped Auden as he shut his eyes tight, clearly fighting whatever he was feeling. Heath wasn’t going to stand for that.

“If I had you in my life forever, I could take on anything, because I know you would always be there for me. I trust you, with every fiber of my being. There is no one I’d rather share this life with than you. I love you, Auden. So, don’t do this. It’ll only cause both of us the most interminable, unmitigated pain we’ve ever felt in our lives. In our lives, Auden. I know this means at least something to you, and I will fight for that forever.”

Auden ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath that sounded like it had sat in his lungs for days. He ran that tired hand down his face, and without looking up, he responded, “That’s exactly why we can’t be together.”

Quick as a flash, he grabbed Heath, throwing him on the bed. Heath’s heart was racing, his eyes wide as Auden stalked toward him like prey. He could have moved, could have gotten up and scrambled away from him, but that was exactly what Auden wanted. For Heath to prove that he was just some scared, easily-influenced human, completely willing to fall to his beautiful might and frankly intimidating power. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t give Auden that satisfaction. It would just prove his point completely that they shouldn’t be together. He would never give Auden that kind of ammunition to tear them apart.

Unfortunately for Heath, Auden was anticipating exactly that response, always somehow two steps ahead. He lunged forward, leaping up into the air and landing on the bed over Heath, his legs straddling his thighs. Involuntarily, Heath let out a whimper as his hips ever-so-slightly rutted upward, and Auden snarled.

“You can’t control yourself at all around me, can you?” Auden asked, his voice gravelly and authoritative.

Heath bit his lower lip and shook his head no.

With a wry smile, Auden shook his head, “What am I going to do with you?”

“I guess you’ll just have to stay and figure that out,” Heath teased, waggling his eyebrows.

Auden’s smile stayed, but his eyes darkened. He took hold of both of Heath’s wrists and tugged them up over his head, pressing them into the pillow near the slatted headboard.

“I guess I will,” Auden murmured, licking his lips as he let go of Heath’s arms, giving him a warning look not to move, and Heath obeyed. Turning behind him, but remaining straddled over Heath’s legs, scorchingly close to his hips, he leaned backward, grabbing the sheets and easily tearing a few strips from it as though it were instead a thin leaf.

Grabbing all of the strips, Auden turned back to Heath, who hadn’t moved a muscle. Auden smiled appreciatively. It was twinged with something that Heath couldn’t identify through the heat he felt growing between his legs.

Auden made quick work of Heath’s hands, binding them easily together and then to the headboard, securing them with masterful knots. Heath tugged once and felt his heart race, immediately knowing how well and truly at Auden’s mercy he now was.

His ancient hands, rough, and strong, with long fingers and experience beyond what was comprehensible, traced slowly down Heath’s arms, starting at his wrists, then drawing lazily across his biceps, his collarbone, his sternum. All the while, Heath was rapt once Auden’s hands came into view, unable to pull his eyes from them as they continued to snake their way down his torso, teasing his muscles, sparking to life his hungry desire.

As Auden reached Heath’s hips, he tugged playfully at the hem before pulling his hands away altogether, earning a disgruntled noise from Heath.

“Auden…” Heath whispered his name like a prayer, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back into his pillow, squirming just slightly in place. He was ready, he was willing— he was so willing— and he didn’t understand why Auden felt the need to play games when he had told him exactly how he felt and what he wanted. He loved Auden. He loved him like he had never loved anyone. It was this thing, this ever-growing electricity that threatened to explode him from the inside out. It burned as it raged, setting fire to his organs, his blood, his thoughts. It was nearing the point where he was going to have to beg Auden to put the fire out, and he was more than happy to submit to that right here and now.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Auden was no longer over Heath, his comforting weight gone from the bed completely. Heath’s eyes flew open and scanned the room, easily spotting Auden off to his side, looking dejected, his head hung as he toyed with more strips of cloth in his hands.

“Auden…?” Heath inquired, tilting his head as he took in the scene before him. His gut sank. There was nothing good about this, and his intuition agreed.

“We can’t be together, Heath. You’ll just get hurt. And I…” Auden’s mouth went dry. He licked his lips, continuing, “I can’t handle that. I can’t handle being the reason that you’re broken, bloody, disappeared, or even—”

Heath cut him off, “I would never let that happen. I would never disappear on you, or anything worse. I won’t leave you.” His insistence seemed to do little to sway Auden’s mind.

“That’s just it— it’s not up to you. You can’t promise me that you won’t get hurt on my watch, because of someone coming after me for who I am, for what I am. I am a death sentence, Heath. I’ve seen it happen before. And I can’t watch it again. Not with you,” Auden finished, leaning over Heath’s now contorted face as he did his best to yank against his bonds.

“You aren’t acting rationally, Auden. You’re acting out of fear and pain and grief. How can you ever expect to lead a life worthy of living if you let them control you?” Heath could hear the desperation in his own voice, but he didn’t care. He knew what was coming, and he couldn’t let it happen.

Auden looked at him with a deep sadness reflecting in his eyes, his mouth quirking into a half-sympathetic smile, “I never said I expected that. I don’t deserve that. Once you live as long as me…” His voice trailed off, and his smile slipped, his features setting in determination, “There are just some things that you’re no longer entitled to; happiness and worth are some of them. And I won’t drag you down with me. You have so much left to do, so much left to accomplish. So, this is my gift to you. I knew you wouldn’t leave, and I would never ask you to. That’s why I am.”

Heath’s jaw clenched as fear wormed its way onto his face, “Auden— this isn’t, you can’t—” Stumbling over his thoughts, he shook his head, trying to clear it to sort through what he was trying to say. Everything Auden had said, while he might believe it to be true, was unequivocally apocryphal and, quite frankly, stupid. Being so old and wise, having experienced so much, Heath couldn’t even begin to imagine the things he had experienced and the things he had done and taken on as his own burden. He couldn’t imagine the guilt he must have felt for simply existing as what he was, what he was no doubt forced to choose and act upon. There had to be a way to make Auden see that he didn’t deserve the punishment he was heaping on himself for sins that only he was giving authority to. He just had no idea what that way was.

And, anyway, he was too late.

While Heath had been combing through his thoughts and trying to find the right thing to get Auden to stay, Auden had been knotting off one of the sheets in his hands. He pulled it taut and leaned down, apologizing.

“I am so sorry to do this to you, but I can’t think of another option that keeps you safe and keeps you from following me. I want you to live a long, normal, beautiful life, Heath, far away from me. I want you to forget about me. I want you to be happy, and find what you truly deserve.”

“Auden, that’s—”

Before Heath could finish his thought, Auden pushed the knotted part of the cloth into Heath’s mouth, the surprise of it giving him time to easily tie it off around the back of Heath’s head. It only registered to Heath what he’d done when Auden pulled his hands away and stood upright.

Auden began gathering his pre-packed things from around the room as Heath screamed muffled protests at him, none of which neither made sense nor could be heard through any of the thick inn walls, as to plan.

With a knapsack draped over his shoulder, Auden took one last look at Heat, who was flailing on the bed, desperately trying to get free from Auden’s knots, but Auden knew he wouldn’t be able to. When they finally made eye contact again, Heath paused long enough to drag in a few heaving breaths in his nose and calm down a bit. Auden took that silence to say one more thing to him.

“I’m sorry it had to go this way. I’m sorry for all of the messes I dragged you into. And I’m sorry for doing something that you will likely never forgive me for,” Auden explained, taking a deep breath as his eyes welled. “I lo—”

His throat tightened on the last word he had planned to say, a word that was monumental and something that he rarely ever allowed to cross his mind anymore. He knew how unfair of him it was to say. He knew it wouldn’t do any good here, not now, though it seared the back of his throat. Instead, he swallowed hard against it, turned, and closed the door behind him as Heath’s distress kicked back in, his body raging against its confines and powerless to do anything but watch the love of his life walk out on him.

—

As Auden passed by the front desk of the inn, he smiled at the lovely clerk as she asked him if he was checking out early.

“Afraid so, though my— friend has chosen to stay a little longer. He’s still in the room, and, bless him, he’ll probably fall asleep sometime soon. Would you mind sending someone up to check on him in a while? Perhaps somewhere around ten or eleven at night? That’ll give him plenty of time to collect himself, I’m sure. I would really appreciate it,” Auden pandered, flashing her another winning smile.

The clerk blushed, looking down and tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear, “Of course, whatever you need.”

Auden nodded his thanks and turned on his heel, not allowing the tears burning at the backs of his eyes to fall until he was deep into the woods when he was sure that there was no one around to witness.

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @borikenlove @cryptidcryin @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

i love how much you love them 🙈🙈 i'll have to see if i can work more of these whumpcember prompts in favor of this little narrative i've created!

thank you for reading, i'm glad you still enjoy it!!!

Whumpcember2022 Day 9: Sacrifice

WARNINGS: kidnapping, imprisonment, restraints, gags, shackles, drugging, stress positions, desperation, threats, manipulation, implied torture, angst

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Dazed and confused, Auden had no idea how long he had been unconscious when he woke up. Hours? Days? It honestly could have been weeks; his immortality made eating and drinking, while generally aiding in a more pleasant living experience as a whole, unnecessary. 

No matter how long he had been there, what he knew was the here and the now. And fuck, both of those hurt.

He was groggy and stiff as his mind began to wade through the fog that had settled over his senses. It was very, very quiet, wherever he was. There was a far off rattling sound, but other than that, the loudest sound he could distinguish was his own breathing and the steadily increasing pace of his heart. Opening his eyes was almost more of a horror than keeping them shut— everything was blurry, as though he were looking through frosted glass. He pointedly opened and closed his eyes a few times, and that seemed to help his vision clear. And then, he really wished he’d let his eyes stay cloudy.

The room he woke up in was dark and dank, an unsettling dampness in the air sending shivers across his bare skin, all of his clothes save for his trousers having been taken from him, setting his nerves alight. The room smelled of something rusted and metallic coupled with unidentifiable scents that were equally as distasteful.

Tipping his head back, he found his arms strung up above him, latched in heavy iron chains that, upon further inspection, must contain whatever it was that man— Kedron?— used in his homemade ropes that bound his powers as well as his limbs. A quick swish of his tongue told him that the same dwale-soaked rag was stuffed in his mouth, now held in place with a thick piece of cloth.

When he allowed his head to fall, he found his ankles in much the same predicament as his wrists. The bottoms of each of his feet were allowed to be flat on the ground, which was a blessing in and of itself, and gave his elbows enough slack to stretch and bend, but that was about it for the niceties he was permitted.

He grunted, an involuntary side effect to growing acclimated to his new environment. At that moment, he heard voices behind him. They were muffled, and he noted that there was a thick wooden door barring his exit. He also noted that it seemed to be the only way in or out of the room; the rest of the room was circular and made of stacked stone, with no windows or decoration, save for a rack of ominous looking metal weaponry and tools.

Great. Just great.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure he’s the one you were looking for,” a male voice said from behind the door. “Are you questioning my skill as a hunter?”

He sounded offended, and perhaps a little on edge.

“No, I suppose I’m not,” a woman responded, sighing, “I just expected him to be… I don’t know, more.”

Auden frowned at that. Was she talking about him?

“Well, I may have worn him down a bit in getting him here, but I assure you, he’s the one you requested. And it was no easy feat tracking him down.”

Auden rolled his eyes. The voices grew closer as they spoke, indicating they were moving toward him. And now that he could better hear the tone, he knew the man had to be Kedron. Figures he would be a hunter. The traitor.

“Yes, as you have mentioned several times now. And as I will continue to remind you,” the woman’s voice grew more pointed, and it seemed to Auden that she was growing irritated, “I will pay you once I am sure you did the job I hired you to do and not a second before. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, now open the door. I’d like to get a look at my prize.”

A blinding flood of light filled the room, forcing Auden to squint and turn away. He’d grown so accustomed to the dark that the light, as glorious and desired as it was, felt as though it was burning him.

“Hello, Auden. Good to see you again,” Kedron said, the smirk evident in his voice.

Auden turned toward him in response and growled.

“I’ve muzzled him for your own protection, ma’am. Better safe than sorry,” Kedron remarked to the woman following him slowly into the room.

Auden’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenching down on the cloth stuck between his teeth. The curses he wished he could unleash upon Kedron were unfathomable in that moment.

“Mm,” was all the response the woman offered. Kedron shifted back and forth on his feet, clearly unsettled. He was as nervous as a schoolboy getting graded on a test.

The woman walked in a slow circle around Auden. he tracked her with his eyes as best he could, but the shackles attaching him to the ceiling and floor of the room only allowed him to turn so far. She only reached out to touch him once, wrapping a cold, bony hand around Auden’s bicep and squeezing. He reactionarily responded, yanking his arm from her and gnashing his teeth as best he could in an attempt to display dominance. Suffice it to say, it didn’t work.

“Hmm,” the woman simply hummed again, continuing her analysis of him. Auden didn’t appreciate being marveled at as though he were some scientific oddity.

“Does he do anything?” the woman asked bluntly, turning toward Kedron, her expression expectant.

“I, uhm… ma’am?” Kedron floundered, confusion evident in his expression. It was almost enough to bring a smile to Auden’s face.

Almost.

Her gaze turned cold. “What does he do, Kedron? It’s a simple enough question. What are his abilities based on what you’ve observed?”

“You mean to tell me you hired me without knowing what you were going after?” Kedron questioned, clearly flabbergasted.

The woman waved away his concern in a dismissive gesture, “Yes, yes, well, it wasn’t for me.”

This set Auden on high alert. His muscles tensed as he turned toward the woman, hanging on her every word.

“... ma’am?” Kedron’s inability to grasp the concept was even starting to get on Auden’s nerves.

The woman stared at him, wholly unimpressed, “It seems a miracle that you got this job done at all.”

A breathy laugh through his nostrils escaped Auden, drawing the woman’s attention toward him. Not breaking eye contact with Auden, the woman addressed Kedron, “You are dismissed.”

Bumbling, Kedron responded, “But— but, what about my pay, ma’am?”

She sighed heavily, putting her fingers to her temples as though she was developing a migraine, and then the woman replied, “Yes, yes, the guards will fulfill your payment on your way out. Now, go.”

Kedron looked dumbly between his captive and his employer before making his way out, leaving Auden and the shrewd woman alone in what was looking to become Auden’s new cell.

They stared at each other for what he considered an inordinate amount of time, and Auden squirmed in discomfort, both from the scrutiny and the metal cuffs chafing his wrists and ankles. The woman shifted her weight after a pregnant beat, popping out her hip and exhaling a laden breath.

“I just don’t get it,” she muttered, crossing her arms across her chest, frowning.

Auden would ask what she meant if— well, there wasn’t a rag stuffed in his mouth. Instead, he opted to raise a questioning eyebrow at her.

At that moment, the door slowly creaked open, and in an exasperated tone, the woman demanded, “What is it, Titus?”

“Apologies, Miss Astor, but Mr. Darwin is growing increasingly restless in your absence,” the guard— Titus, evidently— replied.

“Mm, well, we can’t have that,” she grinned wickedly. “Titus, would you give us a moment more? I just need to finish up with this vermin, and then I’ll be right out.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Titus obliged, immediately leaving the room.

Indignant, Auden huffed, cursing at her behind his gag, calling her every obscene name he could think of. Vermin? Who was she to call him vermin?

“Have you worked it out yet? Why you’re here?” the woman asked calmly, not even bothering to meet his eye. He could hear the smirk in her voice.

Auden’s mind had been working, though, and he’d started putting a few things together. He knew the Astor family— everyone knew the Astor family. Their wealth preceded them in every corner of the land and even beyond that. They had power, influence, money, and unlimited access to whatever they wanted. He was also fairly certain that this was the sole child and heir to the fortune, Agrona, so at least he could put a name to her sneering face.

The second name Titus had mentioned had him on edge. Of course, there could be several people with the last name Darwin, but if that was who had led Agrona to him, it could only be one person.

Heath.

And if this obscenely rich, narcissistic, probably insane woman had a hold of Heath, Auden would never forgive himself. If she had done anything to him, if she had so much as harmed a hair on his head—

“I’m nearly certain I can see the steam coming out of your ears, Auden,” Agrona purred, shocking him by running a soft hand down his cheek. He wrenched his face away, growling at the back of his throat. He’d been so lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed her get close to him. She seemed to pout at his reaction.

Agrona scoffed, “Really, I don’t know what Heath sees in you.”

Auden felt his heart skip a beat at the mention of his name. He could hear his breathing grow ragged, his fear for Heath’s well-being the only prevalent thing on his mind.

“Oh, settle down, Heathy is fine. He’s far too precious for me to let anything happen to him,” Agrona reassured, sort of. It didn’t sit well with him that she was talking about Heath so affectionately. He didn’t want her to know him intimately; he didn’t want her to know him at all. And he definitely didn’t want her to know how much she was getting to him, but Auden was pretty sure that ship had already sailed.

“He wouldn’t stop going on and on about how worried he was about you, about how you’d disappeared, left him behind in some hold of a city,” Agrona babbled about Heath, unable to stop herself. “I promised him I’d use my great power and wealth to find you, make sure you were found and brought back here as a… distinguished guest. And that’s just what I’ve done.”

Auden swore all of her teeth had points when she turned to flash him a devilish smile.

“I’ll let him know that we were able to locate you, safe and unharmed, and we brought you back here. When we asked you about seeing Heath, though, you didn’t have much to say. Odd, considering how concerned Heath seemed about you, but I’m sure he’ll understand your… indifference toward him,” she spoke to Auden in a sickeningly sweet tone, pinching his cheeks and running her hands down his bare chest.

He twisted in her grasp, but no matter how he moved, he couldn’t escape Agrona’s touch. Auden could feel his face reddening, the anger boiling his blood, ire coursing through his veins.

For a moment, he thought he could feel the spark of his powers react to him, but in a second, that flash was gone, replaced by the tired ache of the deadly nightshade and henbane infused into his shackles. Sweat beaded on his forehead, as though his powers were revolting inside him, irate themselves about being subdued.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Agrona smirked as she stepped away from Auden, “there’s a beautiful, tragic, deeply upset man waiting for me upstairs to give him the bad news.”

Auden’s eyes were alight as he thrashed against his bonds, desperate to stop her, to get to Heath himself and tell him everything was going to be alright, that nothing could tear them apart again, that he lov—

“Don’t worry, though. As a show of appreciation for your sacrifice for Heath’s and my happiness together, I’ll leave you with some company of your own,” she called back to him as she strolled freely out the door. “Ta-ta, darling.”

Before the door could shut behind her, two large guards— neither of them Titus— entered the room, locking the only means he had back to Heath behind them. By the glint in their eyes, he didn’t think they were there to chat.

The spiked flogs in their hands weren’t reassuring either.

What he wouldn’t give to be laying in Heath’s arms back in that little inn…

He held tight to that thought as the first blow to his back sliced through his skin.

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @borikenlove @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

🎵love of my liiiiiiiife🎵

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

i appreciate you reading it 💕

Whumpcember2022 Day 9: Sacrifice

WARNINGS: kidnapping, imprisonment, restraints, gags, shackles, drugging, stress positions, desperation, threats, manipulation, implied torture, angst

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

Dazed and confused, Auden had no idea how long he had been unconscious when he woke up. Hours? Days? It honestly could have been weeks; his immortality made eating and drinking, while generally aiding in a more pleasant living experience as a whole, unnecessary. 

No matter how long he had been there, what he knew was the here and the now. And fuck, both of those hurt.

He was groggy and stiff as his mind began to wade through the fog that had settled over his senses. It was very, very quiet, wherever he was. There was a far off rattling sound, but other than that, the loudest sound he could distinguish was his own breathing and the steadily increasing pace of his heart. Opening his eyes was almost more of a horror than keeping them shut— everything was blurry, as though he were looking through frosted glass. He pointedly opened and closed his eyes a few times, and that seemed to help his vision clear. And then, he really wished he’d let his eyes stay cloudy.

The room he woke up in was dark and dank, an unsettling dampness in the air sending shivers across his bare skin, all of his clothes save for his trousers having been taken from him, setting his nerves alight. The room smelled of something rusted and metallic coupled with unidentifiable scents that were equally as distasteful.

Tipping his head back, he found his arms strung up above him, latched in heavy iron chains that, upon further inspection, must contain whatever it was that man— Kedron?— used in his homemade ropes that bound his powers as well as his limbs. A quick swish of his tongue told him that the same dwale-soaked rag was stuffed in his mouth, now held in place with a thick piece of cloth.

When he allowed his head to fall, he found his ankles in much the same predicament as his wrists. The bottoms of each of his feet were allowed to be flat on the ground, which was a blessing in and of itself, and gave his elbows enough slack to stretch and bend, but that was about it for the niceties he was permitted.

He grunted, an involuntary side effect to growing acclimated to his new environment. At that moment, he heard voices behind him. They were muffled, and he noted that there was a thick wooden door barring his exit. He also noted that it seemed to be the only way in or out of the room; the rest of the room was circular and made of stacked stone, with no windows or decoration, save for a rack of ominous looking metal weaponry and tools.

Great. Just great.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure he’s the one you were looking for,” a male voice said from behind the door. “Are you questioning my skill as a hunter?”

He sounded offended, and perhaps a little on edge.

“No, I suppose I’m not,” a woman responded, sighing, “I just expected him to be… I don’t know, more.”

Auden frowned at that. Was she talking about him?

“Well, I may have worn him down a bit in getting him here, but I assure you, he’s the one you requested. And it was no easy feat tracking him down.”

Auden rolled his eyes. The voices grew closer as they spoke, indicating they were moving toward him. And now that he could better hear the tone, he knew the man had to be Kedron. Figures he would be a hunter. The traitor.

“Yes, as you have mentioned several times now. And as I will continue to remind you,” the woman’s voice grew more pointed, and it seemed to Auden that she was growing irritated, “I will pay you once I am sure you did the job I hired you to do and not a second before. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, now open the door. I’d like to get a look at my prize.”

A blinding flood of light filled the room, forcing Auden to squint and turn away. He’d grown so accustomed to the dark that the light, as glorious and desired as it was, felt as though it was burning him.

“Hello, Auden. Good to see you again,” Kedron said, the smirk evident in his voice.

Auden turned toward him in response and growled.

“I’ve muzzled him for your own protection, ma’am. Better safe than sorry,” Kedron remarked to the woman following him slowly into the room.

Auden’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenching down on the cloth stuck between his teeth. The curses he wished he could unleash upon Kedron were unfathomable in that moment.

“Mm,” was all the response the woman offered. Kedron shifted back and forth on his feet, clearly unsettled. He was as nervous as a schoolboy getting graded on a test.

The woman walked in a slow circle around Auden. he tracked her with his eyes as best he could, but the shackles attaching him to the ceiling and floor of the room only allowed him to turn so far. She only reached out to touch him once, wrapping a cold, bony hand around Auden’s bicep and squeezing. He reactionarily responded, yanking his arm from her and gnashing his teeth as best he could in an attempt to display dominance. Suffice it to say, it didn’t work.

“Hmm,” the woman simply hummed again, continuing her analysis of him. Auden didn’t appreciate being marveled at as though he were some scientific oddity.

“Does he do anything?” the woman asked bluntly, turning toward Kedron, her expression expectant.

“I, uhm… ma’am?” Kedron floundered, confusion evident in his expression. It was almost enough to bring a smile to Auden’s face.

Almost.

Her gaze turned cold. “What does he do, Kedron? It’s a simple enough question. What are his abilities based on what you’ve observed?”

“You mean to tell me you hired me without knowing what you were going after?” Kedron questioned, clearly flabbergasted.

The woman waved away his concern in a dismissive gesture, “Yes, yes, well, it wasn’t for me.”

This set Auden on high alert. His muscles tensed as he turned toward the woman, hanging on her every word.

“... ma’am?” Kedron’s inability to grasp the concept was even starting to get on Auden’s nerves.

The woman stared at him, wholly unimpressed, “It seems a miracle that you got this job done at all.”

A breathy laugh through his nostrils escaped Auden, drawing the woman’s attention toward him. Not breaking eye contact with Auden, the woman addressed Kedron, “You are dismissed.”

Bumbling, Kedron responded, “But— but, what about my pay, ma’am?”

She sighed heavily, putting her fingers to her temples as though she was developing a migraine, and then the woman replied, “Yes, yes, the guards will fulfill your payment on your way out. Now, go.”

Kedron looked dumbly between his captive and his employer before making his way out, leaving Auden and the shrewd woman alone in what was looking to become Auden’s new cell.

They stared at each other for what he considered an inordinate amount of time, and Auden squirmed in discomfort, both from the scrutiny and the metal cuffs chafing his wrists and ankles. The woman shifted her weight after a pregnant beat, popping out her hip and exhaling a laden breath.

“I just don’t get it,” she muttered, crossing her arms across her chest, frowning.

Auden would ask what she meant if— well, there wasn’t a rag stuffed in his mouth. Instead, he opted to raise a questioning eyebrow at her.

At that moment, the door slowly creaked open, and in an exasperated tone, the woman demanded, “What is it, Titus?”

“Apologies, Miss Astor, but Mr. Darwin is growing increasingly restless in your absence,” the guard— Titus, evidently— replied.

“Mm, well, we can’t have that,” she grinned wickedly. “Titus, would you give us a moment more? I just need to finish up with this vermin, and then I’ll be right out.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Titus obliged, immediately leaving the room.

Indignant, Auden huffed, cursing at her behind his gag, calling her every obscene name he could think of. Vermin? Who was she to call him vermin?

“Have you worked it out yet? Why you’re here?” the woman asked calmly, not even bothering to meet his eye. He could hear the smirk in her voice.

Auden’s mind had been working, though, and he’d started putting a few things together. He knew the Astor family— everyone knew the Astor family. Their wealth preceded them in every corner of the land and even beyond that. They had power, influence, money, and unlimited access to whatever they wanted. He was also fairly certain that this was the sole child and heir to the fortune, Agrona, so at least he could put a name to her sneering face.

The second name Titus had mentioned had him on edge. Of course, there could be several people with the last name Darwin, but if that was who had led Agrona to him, it could only be one person.

Heath.

And if this obscenely rich, narcissistic, probably insane woman had a hold of Heath, Auden would never forgive himself. If she had done anything to him, if she had so much as harmed a hair on his head—

“I’m nearly certain I can see the steam coming out of your ears, Auden,” Agrona purred, shocking him by running a soft hand down his cheek. He wrenched his face away, growling at the back of his throat. He’d been so lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed her get close to him. She seemed to pout at his reaction.

Agrona scoffed, “Really, I don’t know what Heath sees in you.”

Auden felt his heart skip a beat at the mention of his name. He could hear his breathing grow ragged, his fear for Heath’s well-being the only prevalent thing on his mind.

“Oh, settle down, Heathy is fine. He’s far too precious for me to let anything happen to him,” Agrona reassured, sort of. It didn’t sit well with him that she was talking about Heath so affectionately. He didn’t want her to know him intimately; he didn’t want her to know him at all. And he definitely didn’t want her to know how much she was getting to him, but Auden was pretty sure that ship had already sailed.

“He wouldn’t stop going on and on about how worried he was about you, about how you’d disappeared, left him behind in some hold of a city,” Agrona babbled about Heath, unable to stop herself. “I promised him I’d use my great power and wealth to find you, make sure you were found and brought back here as a… distinguished guest. And that’s just what I’ve done.”

Auden swore all of her teeth had points when she turned to flash him a devilish smile.

“I’ll let him know that we were able to locate you, safe and unharmed, and we brought you back here. When we asked you about seeing Heath, though, you didn’t have much to say. Odd, considering how concerned Heath seemed about you, but I’m sure he’ll understand your… indifference toward him,” she spoke to Auden in a sickeningly sweet tone, pinching his cheeks and running her hands down his bare chest.

He twisted in her grasp, but no matter how he moved, he couldn’t escape Agrona’s touch. Auden could feel his face reddening, the anger boiling his blood, ire coursing through his veins.

For a moment, he thought he could feel the spark of his powers react to him, but in a second, that flash was gone, replaced by the tired ache of the deadly nightshade and henbane infused into his shackles. Sweat beaded on his forehead, as though his powers were revolting inside him, irate themselves about being subdued.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Agrona smirked as she stepped away from Auden, “there’s a beautiful, tragic, deeply upset man waiting for me upstairs to give him the bad news.”

Auden’s eyes were alight as he thrashed against his bonds, desperate to stop her, to get to Heath himself and tell him everything was going to be alright, that nothing could tear them apart again, that he lov—

“Don’t worry, though. As a show of appreciation for your sacrifice for Heath’s and my happiness together, I’ll leave you with some company of your own,” she called back to him as she strolled freely out the door. “Ta-ta, darling.”

Before the door could shut behind her, two large guards— neither of them Titus— entered the room, locking the only means he had back to Heath behind them. By the glint in their eyes, he didn’t think they were there to chat.

The spiked flogs in their hands weren’t reassuring either.

What he wouldn’t give to be laying in Heath’s arms back in that little inn…

He held tight to that thought as the first blow to his back sliced through his skin.

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @borikenlove @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 9: Sacrifice

WARNINGS: kidnapping, imprisonment, restraints, gags, shackles, drugging, stress positions, desperation, threats, manipulation, implied torture, angst

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

Dazed and confused, Auden had no idea how long he had been unconscious when he woke up. Hours? Days? It honestly could have been weeks; his immortality made eating and drinking, while generally aiding in a more pleasant living experience as a whole, unnecessary. 

No matter how long he had been there, what he knew was the here and the now. And fuck, both of those hurt.

He was groggy and stiff as his mind began to wade through the fog that had settled over his senses. It was very, very quiet, wherever he was. There was a far off rattling sound, but other than that, the loudest sound he could distinguish was his own breathing and the steadily increasing pace of his heart. Opening his eyes was almost more of a horror than keeping them shut— everything was blurry, as though he were looking through frosted glass. He pointedly opened and closed his eyes a few times, and that seemed to help his vision clear. And then, he really wished he’d let his eyes stay cloudy.

The room he woke up in was dark and dank, an unsettling dampness in the air sending shivers across his bare skin, all of his clothes save for his trousers having been taken from him, setting his nerves alight. The room smelled of something rusted and metallic coupled with unidentifiable scents that were equally as distasteful.

Tipping his head back, he found his arms strung up above him, latched in heavy iron chains that, upon further inspection, must contain whatever it was that man— Kedron?— used in his homemade ropes that bound his powers as well as his limbs. A quick swish of his tongue told him that the same dwale-soaked rag was stuffed in his mouth, now held in place with a thick piece of cloth.

When he allowed his head to fall, he found his ankles in much the same predicament as his wrists. The bottoms of each of his feet were allowed to be flat on the ground, which was a blessing in and of itself, and gave his elbows enough slack to stretch and bend, but that was about it for the niceties he was permitted.

He grunted, an involuntary side effect to growing acclimated to his new environment. At that moment, he heard voices behind him. They were muffled, and he noted that there was a thick wooden door barring his exit. He also noted that it seemed to be the only way in or out of the room; the rest of the room was circular and made of stacked stone, with no windows or decoration, save for a rack of ominous looking metal weaponry and tools.

Great. Just great.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure he’s the one you were looking for,” a male voice said from behind the door. “Are you questioning my skill as a hunter?”

He sounded offended, and perhaps a little on edge.

“No, I suppose I’m not,” a woman responded, sighing, “I just expected him to be… I don’t know, more.”

Auden frowned at that. Was she talking about him?

“Well, I may have worn him down a bit in getting him here, but I assure you, he’s the one you requested. And it was no easy feat tracking him down.”

Auden rolled his eyes. The voices grew closer as they spoke, indicating they were moving toward him. And now that he could better hear the tone, he knew the man had to be Kedron. Figures he would be a hunter. The traitor.

“Yes, as you have mentioned several times now. And as I will continue to remind you,” the woman’s voice grew more pointed, and it seemed to Auden that she was growing irritated, “I will pay you once I am sure you did the job I hired you to do and not a second before. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, now open the door. I’d like to get a look at my prize.”

A blinding flood of light filled the room, forcing Auden to squint and turn away. He’d grown so accustomed to the dark that the light, as glorious and desired as it was, felt as though it was burning him.

“Hello, Auden. Good to see you again,” Kedron said, the smirk evident in his voice.

Auden turned toward him in response and growled.

“I’ve muzzled him for your own protection, ma’am. Better safe than sorry,” Kedron remarked to the woman following him slowly into the room.

Auden’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenching down on the cloth stuck between his teeth. The curses he wished he could unleash upon Kedron were unfathomable in that moment.

“Mm,” was all the response the woman offered. Kedron shifted back and forth on his feet, clearly unsettled. He was as nervous as a schoolboy getting graded on a test.

The woman walked in a slow circle around Auden. he tracked her with his eyes as best he could, but the shackles attaching him to the ceiling and floor of the room only allowed him to turn so far. She only reached out to touch him once, wrapping a cold, bony hand around Auden’s bicep and squeezing. He reactionarily responded, yanking his arm from her and gnashing his teeth as best he could in an attempt to display dominance. Suffice it to say, it didn’t work.

“Hmm,” the woman simply hummed again, continuing her analysis of him. Auden didn’t appreciate being marveled at as though he were some scientific oddity.

“Does he do anything?” the woman asked bluntly, turning toward Kedron, her expression expectant.

“I, uhm… ma’am?” Kedron floundered, confusion evident in his expression. It was almost enough to bring a smile to Auden’s face.

Almost.

Her gaze turned cold. “What does he do, Kedron? It’s a simple enough question. What are his abilities based on what you’ve observed?”

“You mean to tell me you hired me without knowing what you were going after?” Kedron questioned, clearly flabbergasted.

The woman waved away his concern in a dismissive gesture, “Yes, yes, well, it wasn’t for me.”

This set Auden on high alert. His muscles tensed as he turned toward the woman, hanging on her every word.

“... ma’am?” Kedron’s inability to grasp the concept was even starting to get on Auden’s nerves.

The woman stared at him, wholly unimpressed, “It seems a miracle that you got this job done at all.”

A breathy laugh through his nostrils escaped Auden, drawing the woman’s attention toward him. Not breaking eye contact with Auden, the woman addressed Kedron, “You are dismissed.”

Bumbling, Kedron responded, “But— but, what about my pay, ma’am?”

She sighed heavily, putting her fingers to her temples as though she was developing a migraine, and then the woman replied, “Yes, yes, the guards will fulfill your payment on your way out. Now, go.”

Kedron looked dumbly between his captive and his employer before making his way out, leaving Auden and the shrewd woman alone in what was looking to become Auden’s new cell.

They stared at each other for what he considered an inordinate amount of time, and Auden squirmed in discomfort, both from the scrutiny and the metal cuffs chafing his wrists and ankles. The woman shifted her weight after a pregnant beat, popping out her hip and exhaling a laden breath.

“I just don’t get it,” she muttered, crossing her arms across her chest, frowning.

Auden would ask what she meant if— well, there wasn’t a rag stuffed in his mouth. Instead, he opted to raise a questioning eyebrow at her.

At that moment, the door slowly creaked open, and in an exasperated tone, the woman demanded, “What is it, Titus?”

“Apologies, Miss Astor, but Mr. Darwin is growing increasingly restless in your absence,” the guard— Titus, evidently— replied.

“Mm, well, we can’t have that,” she grinned wickedly. “Titus, would you give us a moment more? I just need to finish up with this vermin, and then I’ll be right out.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Titus obliged, immediately leaving the room.

Indignant, Auden huffed, cursing at her behind his gag, calling her every obscene name he could think of. Vermin? Who was she to call him vermin?

“Have you worked it out yet? Why you’re here?” the woman asked calmly, not even bothering to meet his eye. He could hear the smirk in her voice.

Auden’s mind had been working, though, and he’d started putting a few things together. He knew the Astor family— everyone knew the Astor family. Their wealth preceded them in every corner of the land and even beyond that. They had power, influence, money, and unlimited access to whatever they wanted. He was also fairly certain that this was the sole child and heir to the fortune, Agrona, so at least he could put a name to her sneering face.

The second name Titus had mentioned had him on edge. Of course, there could be several people with the last name Darwin, but if that was who had led Agrona to him, it could only be one person.

Heath.

And if this obscenely rich, narcissistic, probably insane woman had a hold of Heath, Auden would never forgive himself. If she had done anything to him, if she had so much as harmed a hair on his head—

“I’m nearly certain I can see the steam coming out of your ears, Auden,” Agrona purred, shocking him by running a soft hand down his cheek. He wrenched his face away, growling at the back of his throat. He’d been so lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed her get close to him. She seemed to pout at his reaction.

Agrona scoffed, “Really, I don’t know what Heath sees in you.”

Auden felt his heart skip a beat at the mention of his name. He could hear his breathing grow ragged, his fear for Heath’s well-being the only prevalent thing on his mind.

“Oh, settle down, Heathy is fine. He’s far too precious for me to let anything happen to him,” Agrona reassured, sort of. It didn’t sit well with him that she was talking about Heath so affectionately. He didn’t want her to know him intimately; he didn’t want her to know him at all. And he definitely didn’t want her to know how much she was getting to him, but Auden was pretty sure that ship had already sailed.

“He wouldn’t stop going on and on about how worried he was about you, about how you’d disappeared, left him behind in some hold of a city,” Agrona babbled about Heath, unable to stop herself. “I promised him I’d use my great power and wealth to find you, make sure you were found and brought back here as a… distinguished guest. And that’s just what I’ve done.”

Auden swore all of her teeth had points when she turned to flash him a devilish smile.

“I’ll let him know that we were able to locate you, safe and unharmed, and we brought you back here. When we asked you about seeing Heath, though, you didn’t have much to say. Odd, considering how concerned Heath seemed about you, but I’m sure he’ll understand your… indifference toward him,” she spoke to Auden in a sickeningly sweet tone, pinching his cheeks and running her hands down his bare chest.

He twisted in her grasp, but no matter how he moved, he couldn’t escape Agrona’s touch. Auden could feel his face reddening, the anger boiling his blood, ire coursing through his veins.

For a moment, he thought he could feel the spark of his powers react to him, but in a second, that flash was gone, replaced by the tired ache of the deadly nightshade and henbane infused into his shackles. Sweat beaded on his forehead, as though his powers were revolting inside him, irate themselves about being subdued.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Agrona smirked as she stepped away from Auden, “there’s a beautiful, tragic, deeply upset man waiting for me upstairs to give him the bad news.”

Auden’s eyes were alight as he thrashed against his bonds, desperate to stop her, to get to Heath himself and tell him everything was going to be alright, that nothing could tear them apart again, that he lov—

“Don’t worry, though. As a show of appreciation for your sacrifice for Heath’s and my happiness together, I’ll leave you with some company of your own,” she called back to him as she strolled freely out the door. “Ta-ta, darling.”

Before the door could shut behind her, two large guards— neither of them Titus— entered the room, locking the only means he had back to Heath behind them. By the glint in their eyes, he didn’t think they were there to chat.

The spiked flogs in their hands weren’t reassuring either.

What he wouldn’t give to be laying in Heath’s arms back in that little inn…

He held tight to that thought as the first blow to his back sliced through his skin.

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @borikenlove @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 8: Faked Death

WARNINGS: manipulation, demonic possession, demonic powers, faked suicide, implied possible sexual assault, forced bonding, forced cohabitation, sass, snark, OCs

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

Sadie woke up, confused, head pounding, eyes wholly unfocused and a disorientation so strong she wasn’t honestly sure which direction was up for several minutes. It was, like, super annoying.

Eventually, her eyes stopped rolling in her head long enough for her to spot the restroom counter in front of her and reach out for it, gripping the marbled edge for dear life. With grunts of effort and several curses, she managed to haul herself up on her feet, steeling herself with a few deep breaths before daring to brave her reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, holy shit,” she groaned, hands flying up to her smudged makeup and wild, untamed hair. There wasn’t much she could do to save her look, and she pouted, incredibly upset by the prospect. She ran her fingers desperately through her hair in an effort to make it a bit more presentable, and she rubbed the smudges away beneath her eyes and around her lips. She ignored the gnawing question at the back of her mind about just what had happened to her that landed her ass blacked out on the floor of a public restroom.

“Don’t worry, it’s taken care of,” a voice at the back of Sadie’s mind reassured her. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She wasn’t sure why she should trust the voice, but she knew it was telling her the truth.

Lifting her chin, Sadie takes a last look, turns on her heel, and struts out like she owns the goddamn place. Because she does. If there was one thing daddy was good for, it was making more money than Sadie could spend and giving her an unlimited credit card to do with what she would. Looking around when she exited the restroom, she saw the seductive calligraphy ‘S’ logo backlit on the wall— a sure sign that it was a Schultz hotel.

And as Sadie Schultz, she felt pretty damn powerful in that moment.

Her bravado quickly deflated as she caught the looks of the partygoers around her. They ogled her, but… not in the way she was used to. She was used to men sizing her up left and right and women glaring at her from all different directions. Or also roving their eyes all over her curvy figure. But this felt like… fear?

She took a few steps forward and watched as the crowd parted before her. Her footing faltered in surprise, but she quickly recovered, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and strode over to the bartender, Marcus. He, at least, was looking at her relatively normally.

“Pour me my usual?” Sadie asked, flashing him her most innocent smile.

“Of course, Miss Schultz,” he responded immediately, moving to grab the best whiskey stocked in house.

“How many times do I need to tell you, Marcus,” she rolled her eyes, leaning forward against the bar, “I’m twenty four. Just call me Sadie.”

“Just one more, as always,” he winked at her, sliding her whiskey sour to her.

“Ugh, so formal,” her voice is complaining, but her eyes twinkle and her mouth quirks up in a smile as she sips her drink. “Mmm, perfect. As always. Thank you, Marcus.”

He inclines his head toward her and begins to make his way to a patron waving him down, but Sadie reaches out with lightning-quick reflexes, startling both she and Marcus equally. Marcus raises an eyebrow in question and she immediately lets go, tucking her hair behind her ear and staring down into her drink.

“I had a question for you, actually, if you don’t mind,” she almost mumbles, her confidence shrinking away from her.

“Of course, go right ahead.”

Sadie traces her fingertip around the rim of her glass a few times, trying to figure out the best way to ask the question burning at the tip of her tongue. Eventually, she sighs, looking up at Marcus’ waiting dark brown eyes, “Do you know why everyone is staring at me like I have three heads growing out of my neck?”

His eyebrows knit in slight concern, “You don’t remember?”

“I, uhm—” Sadie’s eyes widened in realization that something definitely happened to her in that bathroom, but… maybe it wasn’t what she thought.

Slowly, she shakes her head no, taking another sip of her whiskey sour.

Marcus lets out a low whistle, “It was some of the finest fighting I’ve ever seen, Miss Schultz. I didn’t know you had it in you, honestly.”

“F-fighting?” she looked at him bewildered. She was fighting someone?

“Yes, ma’am. Heard the commotion from all the way out here. Hopped the bar, ran in to see what all the fuss was about. Saw you there, holdin’ your own against a few,” his eyes darkened as he frowned, “less than savory fellas. Tore ‘em up real good. Serves ‘em right, I say.” He winked at her like he was sharing an inside joke. “I asked you if you needed anything, but you said you just wanted a few moments alone. I asked one of the waiters to help me get those men outta here, and let you be.” He frowned deeply, “I hope they didn’t knock you too hard on the head. Maybe we oughta get you to a hospital—”

“No!” Sadie shouted, startling Marcus. She wasn’t sure where that came from. It didn’t even sound like her voice. She cleared her throat, “No, no thank you, Marcus. I appreciate it. But I’m totally fine. Like, basically good as new.” She took a step away from the bar and twirled, stopping herself easily and without swaying. She sidled back to the bar, taking another deeper swig of her drink. “See? I’m all good. Thanks for reminding me though, I, uh, I remember now.” Sadie gave Marcus a half-hearted smile before he nodded her way again, looking back at her a few times before going back to the patron a few seats down the bar who was looking none too happy that he’d been ignored earlier.

It didn’t take her long to finish her drink. She downed the rest of it, sliding the empty glass away from her.

How could she not have remembered being in a fight? And a fight against several men, at that? She knew she was feisty, but she wasn’t physically stronger than three grown men with an agenda. There was no way. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

“Alright, enough. I’m bored, and we need to get moving,” that same voice from earlier spoke to her in her mind. It also sounded like the voice that came out of her mouth when she’d screamed at Marcus earlier.

Sadie was a little peeved at how rude her inner voice was being, but she ignored it for the most part. She looked around the bar room of the fancy hotel she was in. She definitely wasn’t bored. She didn’t know why she was thinking that.

“You aren’t thinking anything, you twit,” the voice snapped, “I’m not your fucking inner voice. I’m Narkissa, Grand Duke to the Under, and you are the current fucking thorn in my side.”

Tilting her head, Sadie pondered what she’d just heard. She’d never been one for having imaginary friends when she was little, but she didn’t see why she couldn’t have one now. Granted, none of her friends or family ever talked about having one, but she was sure it was normal or whatever.

Narkissa let out a roar of frustration at the back of Sadie’s mind, “Will you shut up already? Are you an idiot? I just told you, I’m not some fucking creation of yours. And we need to move or I’m going to get angry.”

Sadie snorted at that, “What, this isn’t you angry?”

She blushed when she realized she’d said that out loud. She gave a small wave to the few people who turned to look at her, evidently still wary from the events from earlier that Sadie couldn’t remember.

“We’re done. Time to go,” Narkissa’s tone was clipped.

“Go? Go where?” Sadie asked, not caring about the looks she was getting this time. She had a bad feeling about this.

Sadie pushed away from the bar and stood up from the stool she was on. A look of surprise washed over her face. She hadn’t told her body to do that. Her body was doing that on its own.

“Oh, thank Lucifer, finally,” Narkissa moaned in ecstasy, “I was worried I’d never get control of your stupid little body.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Sadie asked, and then realized her mouth hadn’t moved— but it had when Narkissa had spoken.

Suddenly, she was a passenger in her own body, and she could only watch, helpless, as Narkissa took control.

“Hush, child,” Narkissa ordered. “You aren’t in charge anymore.”

She was only able to make it about three feet before a large, overbearing, very drunk man stepped in her way.

Unimpressed, Narkissa, with Sadie’s body, popped out her hip and raised a single eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest, “Can I help you?”

“How ‘bout a dance, sweet thang?” the man slurred, taking a step closer.

Sadie would have shrank away, but Narkissa remained unphased, standing her ground.

“How about you fuck off before I kill you?” Narkissa asked in a sweet, icy tone.

The man didn’t take too kindly to that response, “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that. You don’t know what you’re missin’.” He puckered his lips and leaned toward her, placing two hands roughly on her hips.

With a snarl and a flick of her wrist, Narkissa sent the man flying sideways through the crowd, earning an uproar of shouts from people knocked down by him like bowling pins. Without a second glance, Narkissa kept walking forward. Sadie wagered that the only place Narkissa could be heading was one of the outdoor balconies.

“What are you doing? There’s no way out over here. Trust me, I should know,” Sadie tried to reason, but Narkissa ignored her.

Uninterested any longer in the people trying to stop her to dance or fuck or whatever the hell else, Narkissa began tossing people left and right out of her way. Several of them screamed, and the crowd rushed to get out of her way.

As she passed by the end of the bar, Sadie heard Marcus ask in a confused voice, “Miss Schultz?”

Narkissa whipped open the balcony doors that led to a small patio. The people outside were startled, but, having not heard much of the ruckus inside, most of them stayed where they were.

She strutted straight to the railing, where she climbed atop it unceremoniously, people now shouting all around her, both inside and out, begging her to get down, that she was being stupid, she was just drunk, she didn’t know what she was doing. They were panicked. They were frightened. And it was music to Narkissa’s ears.

Twisting to look back at them, Narkissa smiled and winked, spread her arms out by her sides as though she were steadying herself on a high dive, and slowly, she tipped forward.

“You crazy bitch!” Sadie was frantic, trapped inside, unable to look away from the horror of what was happening. “What are you fucking doing? Trying to kill me?!”

Just before her feet left the railing for good, Narkissa whispered a soft, breathy, “Yes.”

And then, to the screams of the patio onlookers, she was gone.

–

Narkissa was toweling off her hair, steam pouring out of the bathroom behind her as she walked over to her bed and plopped down in front of the TV. The news was muted, but she knew what they were reporting.

“Sadie Schultz, aged twenty-four, was found dead earlier tonight, having apparently thrown herself from the tenth floor of one of her father’s hotels to the horror of witnesses of the event,” the news reporter was saying, captioned across the bottom of the screen.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Sadie grumbled, eyes glued to the screen.

She’d been so terrified during the fall, she’d figured out a way to project herself out of her body so that, at the very least, she didn’t have to watch her own death. She knew she was technically a figment of her own imagination right now, but that made her brain hurt, so she tried not to think about it too hard.

“Oh, relax,” Narkissa replied, flopping backwards on the overstuffed bed. She didn’t know why television shows always showed possessed people hiding out in seedy motels or abandoned houses. It felt so primitive. And it was so easy to persuade people to do whatever you wanted when you had the abilities Narkissa did. “I require complete freedom from your pathetic little life to get what I need done. What better way was there than to make everyone think that you’re dead?”

“What if I don’t want to be dead?” Sadie turned her accusatory glare on Narkissa. “What if I liked my ‘pathetic little life’?”

Narkissa scoffed at that, “Did you now? Hard to believe that when you’re already using the past tense.”

Sadie glared in response.

“Listen, at the end of the day, we both want the same thing here,” Narkissa argued, sitting up and leaning nonchalantly back on her arm.

“Oh really? And what might that be?” Sadie asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“Me the fuck out of your body,” Narkissa replied matter-of-factly.

“You’re right. So just get the fuck out, thanks,” Sadie snapped, standing and marching over to Narkissa, who stared lazily back at her.

“You think I haven’t tried?” Narkissa glowered, straightening. “You think that wasn’t the first thing I did the second I realized I’d been pulled into you?”

“Pulled into me? Excuse me?” Sadie’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Oh, like you didn’t know,” Narkissa jeered.

The question engulfing Sadie’s features convinced Narkissa that maybe she was actually being honest with her.

“You summoned me to you. You called me directly into your body. One second, I was lounging in my lair, the next, boom. I’m in a twenty year old’s dumb little body in the bathroom of some gaudy hotel.”

“Hey, it is not gaudy!” Sadie shrieked, indignant.

“Ah, yes, because that is the main concern here. Me insulting your daddy’s tastes,” Narkissa snarked back.

Sadie groaned, “Whatever, so why can’t you just leave?”

“That’s what we’re going to try and figure out. Someone trapped me in here, and until we can figure it out, you and I are stuck like this, baby.” Narkissa flashed a sardonic smile, “Better get used to it.”

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @borikenlove @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 7: Scars

WARNINGS: collars, imprisonment, wound descriptions, implied abuse, manipulation, vampires, gratuitous descriptions, OCs

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Rowan shook in her room, the chain connected to the metal collar around her neck clanking irritatingly in her ear. She grimaced, tracing tentative fingertips over the cool surface of her newest accessory.

She didn’t remember returning to Damia’s mansion, but that didn’t mean much when you considered Damia herself. Rowan was sure it had taken no time at all to get her back after she’d collapsed in the freezing cold winter.

Damia was strong, impossibly fast, ancient to a degree that didn’t compute in Rowan’s brain. Her plump lips were always blood red— from lipstick or actual blood, Rowan was never sure— and the tips of her fangs just barely peeked out of her mouth, a looming threat and, perhaps, a tantalizing promise. They served as a constant reminder of who was in charge.

She’d always romanticized vampires in her head. Beautiful, cold, the impossibly misunderstood creatures of literary old who just wanted to belong, just wanted to be able to love and exist without being persecuted for something they couldn’t control. And, truth be told, Rowan had always fantasized about becoming one.

With a sickening twist in her gut, she realized she still did, even despite everything that had happened to her.

Turning her head, Rowan gazed around the room that had long ago become her prison. Ornate, tall, dark wooden furniture was placed throughout the room. She stood and wandered over to the dresser, trailing her fingers along the intricate carvings donning its molding. Twisting, reaching vines crawled up its sides, the leaves so detailed that she could feel the veins carved into each one. All of the furniture in the room was adorned with matching motifs, but Rowan found the dresser to be the most beautiful of them all.

Her eyes skimmed along the top of it, skipping over the few knick-knacks and trinkets that dotted its surface, and landed next on the heavy burgundy velvet curtains, detailed with gold threading and tassels. Between her fingers, it was soft and thick and felt sewn with intentional warmth and delicacy, and at the back of her mind, Rowan wondered at its origin and whether Damia could have created it herself.

The enormous four-poster canopy bed was decked in the same rich color, embroidered with a subtle repetitive design of plants and organic shapes and bats. The bats, though, had a quiet detailing of gold weaved within them, pulling the eye toward them the most. Each side of the bed was framed with side tables of decent size that carried delicate Tiffany lamps, and to the left of the setup a few yards away was an inviting stone fireplace that held an audience of two overstuffed armchairs. On either side of the fireplace itself stood large overflowing bookcases containing every possible genre anyone could ever want to read. A doorway to the left of those led to a gorgeous ensuite bath, private and her own to use and enjoy as she pleased.

Between the bathroom door and the bookcase sat an antique standing mirror, and, catching her eye, Rowan slowly approached it. Though it was bulky and shiny and new, the collar clasped around her neck wasn’t what held her attention.

Unsure when, Rowan had been dressed in a matching plaid flannel pajama set, the sleeves short and the pants long and the neckline low enough that part of her shoulders were exposed to the cold air of the room.

Her skin, pale and sallow, shone one of the scars she’d forgotten she had: a harsh dark pink line running several inches downward toward one of her breasts, as well as tearing across the corresponding shoulder blade on her back. She knew there were two more jagged lines next to it; permanent demonstrations of Damia’s possessiveness.

Rowan tilted her head in the mirror, her eyes fixed on the raised pink scar on her skin. She reached her hands up, undoing the buttons on her pajama shirt. Each one she undid further raised the goosebumps on her arms, but she didn’t care. She was far too focused.

Letting her shirt flutter to the floor, she took a step forward toward herself. Her chest bare, a shiver threatened to break her concentration, but as she neared her reflection, she rotated her chest around, tilting her shoulder down to get a better look at the marks marring her skin.

She had hated them at first. She’d thought them long and ugly and permanent, something that made her less, something that made her imperfect. But the longer she had them, the more she realized— they were testaments to her life, to her still living. This monster, this woman who had been alive for hundreds of years, who had claimed Rowan as her own and had done her best to break her and train her to be compliant, had yet to just kill Rowan outright, no matter how much she talked back or fought. That had to count for something.

As she ran a finger down the red lines that had been raked down her body, without conscious effort, a tear slipped down her cheek. Her face didn’t contort. Her demeanor didn’t change except for her brows to knit slightly, eyes locked on. That was why she didn’t notice the bedroom door silently sway inward.

Cold hands slid down her upper arms, fingers adorned with rings lightly dancing across her skin. Next, lips, just as cold as the hands, pressed themselves against the angry marks on Rowan’s skin. She didn’t even bother to flick her eyes up in the mirror; she knew there would be no reflection looking back at her. Kisses drifted up her neck, stopping at the pulse point just below her ear.

“Are you angry, my sweet?” Damia’s low, mollifying voice murmured. There was no malice, only curiosity.

Rowan shook her head ‘no’ once as another tear slipped out.

“Oh, my dear, none of that now,” she soothed, wiping the fresh trail away. “It just shows you how much I love having you at my fingertips.”

And that was just it. Damia loved having her. Rowan wasn’t sure if that could even compare to actually being loved by her, and she wasn’t sure she would ever know what being loved by her felt like.

With a crack in her voice, Rowan mumbled, “It hurt.”

Damia whipped Rowan around to face her, her eyes dark and hollow, “I could have made it hurt worse. Would you rather I show you what true pain feels like?”

“No,” Rowan squeaked, too cold and tired and disoriented to fight with her the way she normally would.

Contemplating her response, Damia hummed, analyzing Rowan’s body language as though she were a lab rat in the middle of an experiment.

In response, Rowan hunched her shoulders, folding in and wrapping her arms around herself in a weak attempt to cover up under Damia’s scorn.

Slowly, Damia relaxed and reached her hands out, taking hold of Rowan’s and pulling them away from her body. “Don’t hide, darling. You’re beautiful just as you are— every part of you.”

Rowan shivered. She didn’t want this from her, at least not right now. She couldn’t handle the tender side of Damia when she felt so wrecked and abandoned, her wits weren’t sharp enough to dissect Damia’s underlying motivations. But Damia wouldn’t let go of her hands, so she was forced to comply as Damia turned her back toward the mirror, staring back at a reflection that was wholly her own.

She began cataloging each of her scars, unable to keep her wandering eyes from landing on them. There were the three stark lines across her left shoulder from Damia’s fingernails, the teeth indentations over her right breast that had never gone away, the nick across the outer part of her right cheek that was thankfully smaller than the initial cut, and of course, the puncture wounds on the left side of her neck from the first night she’d met Damia. And those were just the scars she could currently see; there were plenty more decorating her lean frame down her back and beneath her pajama pants.

Eventually, Damia released her grip on Rowan’s hands, opting to run them up her long arms instead in what Rowan assumed was meant to be comforting. Then, she ran her right hand across the expanse of Rowan’s exposed back, jostling the chain connecting Rowan to a sturdy metal loop in the center of the floor.

On instinct, Rowan reached up and tugged at the collar encircling her neck, wishing for an inch or two more of space, at least, so that she could feel free to take a deep, grounding breath.

“Mm,” Damia hummed again, and, with what sounded like pity in her voice, said, “it wasn’t a decision I took likely, you know. But after the stunt you pulled last night, it felt a necessary precaution. For your safety.”

Rowan’s lip quivered, and she quickly looked down, her pride unwilling to let her completely break down in Damia’s presence.

Damia gently pressed a finger beneath Rowan’s chin, leading her gaze upward to meet her own. She clucked her tongue in disapproval, “Such a pathetic thing today. What a shame.” In a flash, Damia was at the door, “Perhaps tomorrow you’ll be more lively.” And just like that, she was gone, the heavy door shutting behind her with an impressive thud.

Rowan stared meekly around the room for a moment, then leaned down to grab her discarded shirt, wincing as her joints creaked from disuse. Without bothering to put the shirt on, she shuffled into the bathroom, the chain connected to her neck dragging quietly behind her and scraping against the cold stone floor, the length of it enough for her to reach even the furthest corners of the ensuite. As she turned the knob for hot water in the shower and steam rose up around her, the word pathetic rang through her mind on merciless repeat.

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 6: Separated

WARNINGS: implied kidnapping, panic, desperation, searching, mazes, being lost, angst, whump, OCs

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“Zach?” Slade called out, cupping his hands around his mouth, directing his head toward the sky. “Where are you? I think I’m lost.”

Nothing. No response. Well, shit. The fucker.

The hedge maze hadn’t looked that big when they’d started it. And when the girls they’d met at the fair bet him that he couldn’t get out of it faster than Zach, he obviously had to take it. Zach was Slade’s best friend, and he’d be damned if he let that asshole have something to hold over his head.

Plus, Slade loved to show off.

Unfortunately, the entire plan was backfiring as he turned and wound up staring at another dead end.

“For fuck’s sake—” Slade grumbled to himself, dragging his hand down his face in annoyance. “Zach! Seriously, dude, forget the bet for a second. I’m lost-lost, and I don’t wanna die in here.”

He said the last line with a laugh, but he swallowed hard afterward. He hated not having the upper hand. But, conceding to his ever-growing fear, Slade waited for Zach to respond.

Still, nothing.

That dick.

He was getting way too into winning.

Slade huffed out an angry breath and ran his hands through his long, silky hair. “Just think, Slade,” he thought to himself, “you’re super good at everything you do. You can’t let some stupid plants win.”

He looked around, and, picking a direction he didn’t think he’d been in before with every ounce of confidence he had, he headed forward, determined to find his way out of this maze all on his own.

After a few more minutes of running into dead end after dead end, Slade finally had to admit that he really, really sucked at mazes.

Frustrated, he blew out a long breath, bringing both hands up to the back of his head as he contemplated what to do next.

He could turn around and just go out the entrance like a loser… well, he could if he knew which way he’d even come from.

Okay, that was out.

Searching around himself again, he seriously contemplated just pushing his way through the hedges before him, but when he brought a hand up to one of them, he knew immediately that wouldn’t work. These were the kinds of fancy shrubs that grew ten feet high and the branches and leaves within them wove a complicated pattern that would demand a knife or shears to even have a prayer of getting through them.

Slade swore to himself, dropping his head, trying to rack his brain for any other ideas on how to get out. And that’s when he saw it.

Resting innocuously beneath one of the hedge walls was Zach’s favorite baseball cap. The dork almost never took that thing off. Slade bent down and picked it up, tuning it over in his hands, wondering why the hell Zach would leave it behind.

Maybe he’d heard Slade shouting earlier and felt bad for him, opting to leave the hat as a breadcrumb? But then, why shove it under one of the hedges where Slade could have easily missed it?

At the itch of a wild hair niggling at the back of his mind, Slade bent down, examining the area around where he’d found the abandoned hat. A glint caught his eye as he scanned back and forth, and he reached out to grab it. His fingers clasped around something hard and cold and he pulled his hand back. It was Zach’s phone.

Slade felt the color drain from his face.

His hat was one thing, but Zach’s phone? No way he would leave that behind in a maze, hidden under a goddamn plant where Slade definitely never would have seen it. This was bad. Something was very, very wrong.

In a panic, he swung his head back and forth, hoping against hope that maybe he’d catch a glimpse of his friend.

“Zach? Zach! Dude, this isn’t funny,” Slade called out, still on the hunt. He ran through the maze, Zach’s hat and phone in hand, completely losing track of the direction he’d come from. “Seriously. Ha-ha, you got me! Now get your ass out here so I can kick the shit out of you for it.” The only response he got was his own echo, followed by chilling silence that slowly filled in with the milling voices of other friends and couples alike making their way through just another fun festival activity.

Slade was hoping that Zach was just being a dick. Maybe he was hidden somewhere nearby, and he’d laugh his ass off at Slade once he realized it was all just a fucked up prank. But after several moments of frenzied searching, he knew one thing: Zach wasn’t there.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, shit,” Slade mumbled to himself. He had to get out of this goddamned maze. He had to get help.

He ran down several more hedged aisles, and somehow, by pure luck, he caught a glimpse of the archway he’d seen looming over the exit. With every ounce of energy he had, he made a mad dash for it, busting out of the maze and startling everyone around him at his uproarious appearance.

His eyes were wild when he found the girls he and Zach had been flirting with earlier.

“Heyyyy, ohmigod we thought you guys had, like, totally ditched us. You were in there forever,” one of the girls said, trying her best to cover up her irritation. The alcohol Slade could clearly smell on her breath made it impossible for her to do effectively.

“But you won, yayyyyy!” the other girl slurred, reaching out and hanging on one of Slade’s arms.

“Wait, so Zach hasn’t come out yet?” Slade asked, his gaze flicking between each of the girls, who in return warily looked at each other.

“Ummm, noooo, we just said that,” the first girl responded, taking a step toward Slade. She lifted her hand and lightly rapped her knuckles on his forehead, “Helloooooo, Earth to cute boy, you still in there?”

Slade was no longer paying attention. His vision had tunneled, his breathing steadily picking up pace. He whipped back around to that godforsaken maze, his eyes racing across it in the hopes that somehow, some way, he would see a clue, a sign, anything to let him know where Zach had gone. But a sickening feeling was grounding itself in him, something that hollowed him out and started ripping him apart from the inside, slowly, steadily.

What the fuck had happened to his best friend in the 20 minutes that they’d been in that stupid maze?

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

maddie's masterlist of original works

last updated: December 6th, 2022

a note from the author: hi! most, if not all of these works are whump or hurt/comfort. inherently, this means they are dark fics. i will put warnings before each fic and tag each one with the possibly triggering things they contain to help you avoid reading something that makes you, specifically, uncomfortable.

i'm not going to police your online experience. i am not your caretaker. if you ignore this warning, that is your fault and i genuinely do not care what that outcome entails for you.

my ao3 is polkmydot — feel free to go peruse my stories at your leisure <3

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it was going to be a long night || ao3

“So, this is how it ends,” Rowan thought to herself. She nearly chuckled, hunching over and pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes, “At least hypothermia is more forgiving than the blade of a knife.”

consider your verbage || ao3

“Have you learned your lesson yet, pet?” Agrona asked; Auden could hear the smile in her voice.

He steeled himself to respond with snark, determined not to let her see just how weak he truly felt, when the heavy wooden doors sealing Auden in what he felt would be his tomb cracked open, hitting the gothic stone walls with a thud.

That was when the color fully drained from Auden’s face.

sweet dreams || ao3

Losing control of his temper, Auden gnashed his teeth at Kedron, throwing his weight forward in a last-ditch effort to save himself. Kedron easily caught his jaw in his hand, pressing his thumb and forefinger tightly into the hollows of Auden’s cheeks, holding his mouth open.

“Now, say ‘ah!’” Kedron taunted, and shoved the dripping rag into Auden’s waiting mouth.

we've got work to do || ao3

“Stay– stay away– from me,” she uttered through heaving breaths. She could feel her skin starting to tingle, a funny numbness twinkling at her fingertips.

“I just want to help you,” the girl said again, taking another step towards Nell.

“I said– no!” Nell shouted, picking up her pillow and tossing it at the encroacher.

“Why don’t you let me handle this one, dollface?” a different voice crooned. Or at least, Nell thought it was a different voice. It also kind of still sounded like the girl in front of her. Shit, was she already going insane?

to the tempo of her screams || ao3

“What do I have to do to get you to let me go?” Twyla asked, still wary of Merodach, but ultimately tired and desperate to leave.

He paused, relaxing his stance and tapping his chin in a show of contemplation. After a moment, he dropped his arm, clasping his hands together behind him and leaning forward toward when Twyla was shackled to the wall. A sinister smile peeked out from underneath his thick mustache, “All you need to do is rediscover who you truly are."

that stupid maze || ao3

Slade swore to himself, dropping his head, trying to rack his brain for any other ideas on how to get out. And that’s when he saw it.

Resting innocuously beneath one of the hedge walls was Zach’s favorite baseball cap. The dork almost never took that thing off. Slade bent down and picked it up, tuning it over in his hands, wondering why the hell Zach would leave it behind.

perhaps tomorrow you'll be more lively || ao3

“Are you angry, my sweet?” Damia’s low, mollifying voice murmured. There was no malice, only curiosity.

Rowan shook her head ‘no’ once as another tear slipped out.

“Oh, my dear, none of that now,” she soothed, wiping the fresh trail away. “It just shows you how much I love having you at my fingertips.”

pour me my usual? || ao3

“Go? Go where?” Sadie asked, not caring about the looks she was getting this time. She had a bad feeling about this.

Sadie pushed away from the bar and stood up from the stool she was on. A look of surprise washed over her face. She hadn’t told her body to do that. Her body was doing that on its own.

“Oh, thank Lucifer, finally,” Narkissa moaned in ecstasy, “I was worried I’d never get control of your stupid little body.”

growing increasingly restless in your absence || ao3

“I just don’t get it,” she muttered, crossing her arms across her chest, frowning.

Auden would ask what she meant if— well, there wasn’t a rag stuffed in his mouth. Instead, he opted to raise a questioning eyebrow at her.

At that moment, the door slowly creaked open, and in an exasperated tone, the woman demanded, “What is it, Titus?”

it's not up to you || ao3

With a wry smile, Auden shook his head, “What am I going to do with you?”

“I guess you’ll just have to stay and figure that out,” Heath teased, waggling his eyebrows.

Auden’s smile stayed, but his eyes darkened. He took hold of both of Heath’s wrists and tugged them up over his head, pressing them into the pillow near the slatted headboard.

“I guess I will,” Auden murmured, licking his lips as he let go of Heath’s arms, giving him a warning look not to move, and Heath obeyed.

the tip of a blade || ao3

Damia licked her lips before slowly trailing her tongue up the length of Nell’s neck, causing Nell to shiver violently again, nearly losing her balance completely. A deep chuckle emanated from Damia’s throat.

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

search specifically by whumpee mention:

Rowan Hartley

Heath Darwin

Auden

Nell Sutton

Sadie Schultz

Twyla Tate

search specifically by whumper mention:

Damia

Agrona Astor

Miles Kedron

Narkissa

Merodach Barlowe

[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 5: "I hate you!"

WARNINGS: restraints, kidnapping, torture, interrogation, blood, injuries, swearing, rage, anger, OCs

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The shackles holding Twyla’s hands at head level rattled as she shrieked in fury, blood pouring from her nose after the beating she’d taken.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” she screamed for the umpteenth time that day. And it was true. She didn’t. She had no fucking clue what Merodach was saying.

“Don’t lie to me, Twyla. It isn’t wise,” Merodach said coldly. As though he needed to further prove his point, he rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt further up his arms, closing his hands into fists and settling into a ready fighting stance.

“I’m not. Goddamn. Lying. I fucking told you this already. All that Greek mythology shit isn’t real! The gods, Medusa, the bird people, the fates— whatever, it’s all made up shit that they used to, like, I dunno, prove points and teach morals or something!”

She tried not to think about how disappointed her favorite teacher, Mr. West, would be in her right now for that downright insulting explanation of the mythos of Greece. But quite frankly, she had bigger fish to fry right now. “It’s not, fucking real, and you’re insane!” she shrieked, tugging again at her restraints, praying to whatever was out there in the universe that might hear her and get her the fuck out of this situation.

“I’m impressed at how deep you had to have buried your powers to be this in denial,” Merodach continued. He paced slowly back and forth in front of her, and if she could reach it, Twyla would rip her hair out from the stress he was causing her.

Exasperatedly, Twyla asked, “Powers? Are you serious? I don’t have any powers. I’m getting a degree in business for fuck’s sake! If I had powers, do you actually think I’d be going to college?!”

Merodach pondered that for a moment, then replied, “You make a good point, but it becomes moot when you consider the fact that you’ve just forgotten you have them.”

“I— you— what?! How many times do I have to tell you— I’m just a normal person! I have a mom and a dad and a best friend and they’re all probably really worried about me, so if you just let me go now, I swear, I won’t tell a soul what you did!”

Twyla knew that begging probably wouldn’t work— she’d seen enough Law & Order: SVU to know that the bad guys are too smart to just trust that their victims won’t talk. But hey, maybe this guy was delusional enough to go with it?

“No, no, that won’t be happening, my dear,” Merodach stated matter of factly.

Yeah, it had been a long shot anyway.

As she dropped her head, both in resignation and in thought, blood dripped from her nose onto the stone floor of the underground cell she’d been brought to. She watched the steady flow of it drip, drip, drip onto the same spot, keeping her head down until a single tear splashing down compelled her to lift her head again and face her captor.

“What do I have to do to get you to let me go?” Twyla asked, still wary of Merodach, but ultimately tired and desperate to leave.

He paused, relaxing his stance and tapping his chin in a show of contemplation. After a moment, he dropped his arm, clasping his hands together behind him and leaning forward toward where Twyla was shackled to the wall. A sinister smile peeked out from underneath his thick mustache, “All you need to do is rediscover who you truly are.”

Twyla clenched her jaw as her face screwed up in anger, “Are you fucking kidding me? I already— holy shit. I can’t. I don’t know why the fuck you think I have some kind of goddamn supernatural gift, but I don’t. I don’t!”

She was desperate to make him see, make him understand, but what she was coming to realize that sowed a deep seed of terror in her soul was that there was no convincing this man. He was delusional, and he was fully set in his belief that she was some kind of mystical being. There was nothing she could think to do to prove otherwise.

“Well, then I suppose we have nothing more to talk about today,” Merodach stated, turning on his heel and heading toward the only exit. “Perhaps tomorrow you’ll be more willing to cooperate.”

Twyla let out a roar of anger, thrashing in her bonds, her eyes wild as she watched her only means of freedom walk away from her without a care in the world. The animosity she felt toward him was palpable, a living beast of its own. It raged inside her, a storm waiting to explode from her fingertips, every nerve ending alight and prickling, throbbing with fury and righteous indignation.

Unable to contain it any longer, Twyla let loose a long, inhuman screech, an outcry doused in pain and dismay and terror. It echoed around the chamber, and it felt as though the walls shook in solidarity. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with blood both dried and fresh, but they stemmed from frustration more than anything else.

“I hate you!” she shrieked, her chest heaving, her fists clenched so tightly that she could feel her own nails drawing blood from her palms. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Merodach merely turned his head slightly as he passed through the doorway, “Ouch. That hurts, Twyla.”

Without another word, he pulled the barred cell door shut, smirking as he slowly climbed the stairs to the tempo of Twyla’s screams after him.

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 4: Shortness of Breath

WARNINGS: anxiety, panic attacks, imprisonment, demonic possession

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

Nell held her knees close to her chest as she rocked back and forth on her cot, her eyes flicking around the cramped quarters of her dingy cell.

“Hey, it’ll be okay, just calm down.”

She turned, casting her wide eyes upon a girl across from her who was slowly making her way closer to where she held herself in safety.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“Stay— stay away— from me,” she uttered through heaving breaths. She could feel her skin starting to tingle, a funny numbness twinkling at her fingertips.

“I just want to help you,” the girl said again, taking another step towards Nell.

“I said— no!” Nell shouted, picking up her pillow and tossing it at the encroacher.

“Why don’t you let me handle this one, dollface?” a different voice crooned. Or at least, Nell thought it was a different voice. It also kind of still sounded like the girl in front of her. Shit, was she already going insane?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Nell felt her chest tighten, her breaths shortening as panic overwhelmed her. It was as though her head was buzzing, filled with thousands of bees that just wouldn’t shut the fuck up for two seconds so that she could think straight. Her hands and feet went cold, and the feeling of nausea worked its way up from her stomach to a nicely formed lump in her throat.

“Oh, yeah, because you’re such a people person,” the girl from earlier jeered. Nell could practically hear the eyeroll.

“I happen to have thousands of years of experience with people, thank you very much,” the second voice sniffed, sounding very much offended.

As entertaining as this was, it couldn’t pull Nell from the full blown panic attack that was threatening to consume her at any moment. She hugged her knees tighter to her still.

“Fine, fine. Have at it then. But you’ll owe me one,” the girl responded. Something sounding similar to the release of a long-held breath echoed through the small cell, but at this point, Nell’s head was shoved firmly down between her knees. She was determined to make herself as small as possible to keep her freak out level to a minimum. Surely that was the solution here.

The sound of a throat clearing drew Nell’s attention, but she kept her head down. She was safe here. Everything was fine. And as long as she kept her head down, she could convince herself to believe that.

“Hey, uhm, kid? Hangin’ in there?” the second voice asked.

“What kind of a stupid-ass question is that? Does she look okay to you, Nar?” the first girl snorted.

Nar hissed back in response, “Will you shut up? I told you to let me handle it, this is me handling it. And don’t call me that. It’s Narkissa.”

“Sure, sure, fine. Whatever,” the first girl answered sardonically.

“Sorry about that. Ignore Sadie. She’s… Anyway, where were we?” Narkissa continued, closer this time than she had been earlier.

“Just— just leave me— alone,” Nell stammered between sobs. “I’ll be f—fine.”

Narkissa laughed, “Yeah, you’re doing so well on your own, clearly.”

Nell didn’t think that dignified a response, so instead, she spent her energy focusing on her breathing and figuring out how the fuck to take in a deep goddamn breath. Since when did that become the hardest thing in the world?

“Listen, I want you to look at me, okay? Can you do that?” Narkissa asked, her tone kinder and more pleading than a moment before. That alone convinced Nell to pull her head out of the hole she’d been hiding it in, but when she did, she was even more confused than before.

The first girl, the girl who’d been coming toward her earlier, was standing before Nell now. She had long, blonde, beautiful hair, her ears, neck, and wrists were dripping in expensive jewels and diamonds, and she was dressed like one of the mean girls in, well, the movie Mean Girls. But this voice that was talking to her now, it wasn’t that girl’s voice.

“A—are you two tw—twins?” Nell asked haltingly, her chest still gripped in the iron vice of hysteria.

Narkissa reared her head back in confusion, “What?”

“You and S—Sadie. You look i—dentical,” Nell explained, peering around Narkissa to get a good look at Sadie, just to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. And that’s when she realized: she and Narkissa were the only two in the cell.

Nell raised her head up from her knees, looking back at Narkissa with a look of complete perplexion.

Narkissa pursed her lips, squinting her eyes as though she were contemplating how to answer. She took a deep breath, then said, “Right. That’s sort of a, uh, long— well, not long. Weird. It’s sort of a weird story. And I promise to tell it to you if you listen to me right now. Deal?”

Still utterly bewildered, Nell just nodded her head, her curiosity winning out over her frenzied dread for the moment.

“Good. Okay, I want you to just focus on me. Can you do that?” Narkissa asked, squatting down in front of Nell. She nodded her head again in response.

“Okay. We’re gonna breathe now, together. Ready? Deep breath in, in, in— good, now out, slowly, slowly. Good. You’re doing good, Nell,” Narkissa reassured her. At the back of her mind, Nell wondered how she even knew her name, but the thought quickly left her when Narkissa spoke again.

For a few minutes, they sat there, breathing together, slowly, deeply, Narkissa never allowing Nell to break her focus. Eventually, Nell’s heart rate slowed down to something more reasonable, and the tingling sensation receded from her nerves. She warmed, and loosened the death grip she still had on her knees.

A few awkward moments passed before Nell spoke up, tentatively obliging, “Thank you. I appreciate what you did.”

Narkissa stared at her for a beat, her eyes flicking between Nell’s own, before she hastily stood, flipping her hair nonchalantly before turning and walking back across the cell, swaying her hips the whole time as she flippantly tossed over her shoulder, “Whatever, I only did it because you were starting to annoy me. Don’t get too attached.”

Nell stared after her, her head tilting as she tried to figure out what that immediate change was about. Then, she called out, “What about that story you promised me?”

Narkissa threw her head back, hissing, “God, you’re so needy. I don’t have time for this. Sadie, you deal with it.”

Her body jerked, prompting Nell to her feet out of concern. “Hey, are you—?”

Before she could finish her sentence, Nell again heard the sound of a releasing breath and watched Narkissa’s body shudder again. Then, she turned back to Nell, a soft smile painted across her lips.

“Sorry about that. Nar is like, way dramatic. You’ll get used to her.”

The voice came from Narkissa’s body, but… it was the first girl’s voice. Nell’s eyes widened. What the hell was going on here?

She could feel her chest threatening to tighten again, but Nell took a deep breath like she’d done with Narkissa and just flat-out asked, “Okay… what— and I mean this sincerely— the fuck?”

With pity in her eyes, she sighed and answered, “Right, yeah. Nar always leaves me with the fun bit. Okay, so.” 

She flipped her hair again and strutted back over to Nell, plopping herself down on the cot next to her. Nell scooted a good foot away when she did, keeping her eyes on her the entire time. If she was hearing voices in her head, Nell needed to keep an eye on her to make sure they didn't suddenly tell her to kill Nell right there on the bed.

“Hi, I’m Sadie. Sadie Schultz, it’s nice to meet you,” Sadie extended her hand, but Nell just stared back at her, unmoving from her spot. Awkwardly, Sadie retracted her arm, brushing her perfect hair behind her ear and continuing, “A long time ago, I was out partying with my friends— we were at this totally kick-ass bar in New York, it was on the rooftop of one of the fanciest hotels and it was incredible.”

Sadie twirled a piece of hair, lost in her memory of that night until Nell cleared her throat, prompting her to continue. “Oh, yeah, right. So like, we were partying and living it up, but I seriously had to pee. So, I went to the bathroom— and I was, like, totally smashed, so this part is definitely not my fault— and there was this totally weird guy in there. But I’m drunk, right? So I’m like, ‘whatever, must be the bathroom attendant,’ and I walk past him. But the dickhead grabs my arm and whispers something really pretty in my ear, and that was sweet and all but I was not interested. So, I ignored him and peed and came out and washed my hands and that’s when I saw this little piece of, like, old paper on the counter. I picked it up and read it out loud and then all of a sudden the room got super foggy and there were some major ooky-spooky vibes. This black smoke showed up and forced its way in my mouth and, long story short, that’s how I met Narkissa.”

She smiled like it was the simplest thing in the world to understand, but Nell’s head was reeling. So, Sadie got drunk and probably high from some random dude hanging out in the ladies’ room and made an imaginary friend?

“What?” Nell couldn’t stop herself from asking.

Nell heard the breathy sound again and watched as Sadie’s head shook back and forth a few times. If she was having a seizure, she was fucked, because Nell had no idea how to help.

“For fuck’s sake, Sadie,” Narkissa’s voice hissed from Sadie’s mouth. She made direct eye contact with Nell, then shut her eyes, holding them closed for longer than normal before opening them again.

They were coal black. Not just the iris, but her entire eye had gone completely blank, filled only with the void of darkness. It stayed long enough for Nell to blink a few times to try and get the hallucination to go away, but it wouldn’t. And then, as Nell stared, the black shrank back into the bright blue pools of Sadie’s irises, and it was as if it had never been there in the first place.

A chill ran down Nell’s spine as Narkissa spoke again, “I’m a demon, Nell. Narkissa, Grand Duke to the Under, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. And I’ve been trapped in Sadie’s body ever since that infernal day that she summoned me to her in that accursed bathroom.”

“Oh.” That was all Nell could say in response. What else do you say to that? “Sorry you got tricked into and trapped inside of a human, that really sucks, man”?

She could feel her lungs shrinking, perhaps even threatening to implode this time as another panic attack began to overwhelm her. Were demons real now? Is that really what she was going to believe? And if she believed that, what else could be out there? Vampires? Werewolves? Faeries?

There was a new, endless supply of terror just waiting to overwhelm Nell at the most inconvenient of times, and she simply was not going to have it. She grabbed her pillow off the floor where she’d thrown it at Sadie, dropped back down on the cot, and threw it over her head.

“No,” she said. And nothing else.

“No?” Narkissa asked, clearly confounded.

“No,” Nell repeated.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Narkissa snarled, clearly losing her patience.

“I can’t do this right now,” she responded, fighting back her desire to hyperventilate her problems away.

“Well that’s too fucking bad, sweetheart, because whether you like it or not, it’s real. And it’s not going away,” Narkissa spat, standing in a huff and pacing to the other side of the cell.

“Will you just calm down? It was a lot for her to take. Just like, give her some time,” Sadie attempted to soothe Narkissa, but she wasn’t having it.

“Calm down? Why don’t you shut the fuck up for once and give me one fucking moment of peace, huh?” Narkissa snarked back, stewing.

“Someone sounds upset that she’s been rejected by the pretty girl in the cell,” Sadie teased, her voice lilting.

“I hate you,” Narkissa jabbed, but there was no heat behind her voice.

“No, you don’t,” Sadie hummed.

Sadie walked back over to Nell, gently lifting the pillow off of her head. Nell looked up at her with big doe eyes, and Sadie offered a friendly hand.

“C’mon, sit up. We’ve got work to do,” she appealed, smiling wider when Nell accepted and did as she was told.

“Work? What work?” Nell asked, pleased that her chest was calming down of its own accord this time.

“Well, we’re all trapped in this cell, aren’t we?” Narkissa grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Let’s figure out a way to bust out of this joint.”

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass @emmettnet <3

[crepuscura]

YOU'RE SO SWEET OMG 😭😭😭

he was definitely deliberately doing it 😉 i'm glad you caught all the little hints i threw in!!

i appreciate your comments so much!! seriously i'm like heart eyes over here, you're so kind 😭😭😭💖💖💖

it's not necessarily a series, although it might turn into one lmao. i have a bunch of different OCs i made a little while ago for the writing challenge i'm participating in, so i use whichever ones i think i'll have the most fun with depending on the prompt! granted, certain ones i'll probably pair more often than not since i've established relationships haha

and i hadn't considered a taglist honestly, but if you're interesting in seeing all my crazy lil characters, i can definitely add you to it!!

Whumpcember2022 Day 3: Storm

Just overtop the cave he’d hidden away in, a thunderclap ripped Auden out of the solace he’d finally found in a peaceful, deep sleep. He rubbed his rough hands over his eyes, lamenting the dream slowly slipping away from his memory.

“Fucking figures,” he mumbled as a bright flash of lightning illuminated his makeshift home, followed by a second clap of thunder just as deafening as the first.

Yawning with his arms outstretched, he allowed himself a few safe moments to gather his wits and his bearings, turning toward the cave entrance to gauge how early in the night he’d been awoken.

Auden had to squint as yet another bright flash cut across his vision while he stared at the sky, but this time, he noticed the distinct, shadowed shape of a man, hunched over and clutching his abdomen, directly in front of the opening.

In a moment, he had sprung to his feet, rushing toward the stranger, calling out to him, asking if he was alright. He slowed his steps as he neared the man, concerned but not anywhere near naive enough in his ancient age to risk getting too close.

“Sir? Can you hear me? I asked if you were alright,” Auden reiterated, halting a few feet before the cave entrance. He was suddenly unsure how to proceed; he wanted to help, but, in his experience, this was the oldest trick in the book: lure the prey out of the warmth of their dens, then strike when they least suspect it.

At a mental impasse, Auden waited to see what, if anything, the stranger would do. And he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Haggard breaths escaped the hunched man, now leaning heavily against a wide tree trunk, but other than that, there was little change in the stranger’s demeanor or actions. It wasn’t until he finally collapsed to his knees that Auden felt safe enough to step out of his relative security.

“Hey, whoa there,” Auden soothed, “are you okay? Can you tell me your name?”

For the first time, the man looked up at Auden, his eyes tired and sunken in. The lines in his weathered face disarmed Auden further; this man, this stranger– his face told a harrowing story. He must have been through terrible hardships, immeasurable sorrows– they were etched so clearly into his skin. The man’s eyes were coal black and dull, heavily lidded with fatigue, and his lips parting and shutting repeatedly in attempts to verbalize his thoughts. Eventually, he succeeded.

“They– call me Kedron,” he stammered, his gravelly voice gliding slowly across his vocal cords. It sounded as though he hadn’t used it for years.

Relief flooded Auden’s features, “That’s good. I’m Auden. Can I help you out of this weather?”

As if to punctuate his question, the sky exploded with another shuddering clap, making Kedron wince. “If you wouldn’t– mind, that would be great. Thank– you.”

Auden tossed Kedron’s arm over his shoulders and slowly helped raise him from the ground. Kedron winced as they stood fully upright, and Auden waited patiently for him to gather the strength to move. By this point, they were utterly and completely drenched to their bones by the severe thunderstorm bursting overhead, but Auden paid no mind. What worried him more was the dark stain seeping through Kedron’s shirt.

Slowly, they made their way the few feet to the entrance of the cave. Kedron was impressively mobile considering his wound– or, perhaps, he was not willing to let Auden see just how badly his wound was affecting him. Either way, Kedron moved with hardly a limp at all, though he did throw a decent amount of his weight upon Auden as they moved deeper into the cave.

Auden had made his temporary shelter as homey as he could: he’d woven a mattress from hay and long grass found nearby, dug in a fire pit, accentuating the edges with brimstones scavenged from nearby– both to protect from possible fire spread and for decoration– he’d even created a spit roast for hunted game. Around the fire pit, Auden had chopped a tree trunk into smaller sections and set each stump as a seat.

He began to lead Kedron over to his bed, but Kedron thoroughly protested, “I’m alright, really. I just need to sit a while. Help me over to one of those logs, would you?”

“Of course, if you think you’re up for it.”

Kedron snapped back, “I am up for it, boy. I don’t need you telling me what I can and can’t do.”

Surprised, Auden searched for the right words, “I… right, yes. I apologize, I didn’t intend to imply anything.”

“Hmph,” Kedron grumbled as Auden helped settle him on the log closest to the wall.

Squatting across the fire pit from Kedron, Auden couldn’t ignore the unsettling dread gathering in the pit of his stomach. He’d like to chalk it up to his wariness of strangers and the anxieties that brings with it, but something about this interaction just seemed… off.

Taking two twigs, he rubbed them together atop the kindling he set into the pit, lighting a fire to warm the both of them, and the entire time, his eyes never left the weary form of his new guest.

Silence settled heavy between the two men as they stared at the fire as it roared to life. The crackle of lightning and the eruption of thunder every so often provided enough background noise to keep an unsettling weight from fully infiltrating the air, but it did still persist. It was starting to nip at Auden’s sanity as he waited for Kedron to speak again.

When it was all too clear that Kedron wasn’t going to be the one to break the increasing tension, Auden cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry at all, or thirsty?” he asked tentatively, careful not to reignite Kedron’s clearly short temper.

Kedron chuckled lowly, “I could always eat, but that can wait until the morning.”

“Ah, I see. Alright,” Auden responded, taking an awkward beat. He cleared his throat again, “Well, I think I’ll head to bed. Please, wake me if you need anything.”

Kedron merely grumbled in response, and Auden was losing the patience to deal with him. He stood, stretching his back, and then headed deeper into the cave, dropping into his hand-woven cot. Normally, he’d have offered it to the stranger, but it was clear that Kedron was just as wary of Auden as he was of him. Auden hoped that by offering to sleep first, it would be received as a sign of good faith and trust, and that perhaps in the morning they could build a better rapport. Or, perhaps the stranger would be gone. At this point, either option would do.

He hadn’t actually intended on falling asleep. He wrongly assumed that the inconsistent booms from the sky above would keep him alert, conscious, and aware of this enigmatic guest.

Instead, the traitorous weather lessened in extremity. The storm dulled into a steady downpour, and the soothing tempo soon lulled Auden into a deep, overwhelming sleep…

Sweet dreams of meadows and lost loves were stolen as Auden was abruptly awoken, the world around him bright, with birds chirping off in the distance as the leaves rustled in the wind of a new day.

Disoriented, he shut his eyes again, groaning into his pillow. It was too early, he didn’t want to be awake yet. There was a horrible pounding in his head, and everything felt leaden. Shoving his face further down, he tried to remember the events of the last night. He’d awoken to a storm, he’d looked out to the sky, he’d seen a man—

He stilled when he heard a familiar, low chuckle.

“Rule number one, kid. Never drop your guard,” Kedron chided from behind him.

It was then that Auden realized he was on his stomach, still on his cot in his cozy little cave, with his guest leaning over him as he scolded Auden as one would a child.

As Kedron stepped away from him, Auden realized that his limp, and the wound that caused it, either must have healed very quickly in the few hours he’d been asleep, or it had never been there to begin with.

Auden was inclined to believe the latter.

“I see that your wound has healed, Kedron,” Auden accused through gritted teeth. He was groggy from his sudden awakening, but his mind was working hard to catch him up to speed.

Kedron raised his eyebrows, making a show of lifting his shirt to examine his abdomen, which was clear of any kind of scarring or bruising.

“Ah! So it has, so it has,” he winked at Auden, dropping the hem and squatting down, gathering something together on the floor just out of sight.

Auden went to sit himself up, but his arms weren’t responding like they should have. A few tugs found his wrists crossed over themselves and bound by something that felt like a cord of hemp. He clenched his jaw a few times, combing through his options in his mind.

The option at the forefront of his mind was ripping through the flimsy cords that bound him and strangling the traitor he’d invited into his home, but he had to stop himself and consider the alternatives.

If Kedron had any kind of weapons stashed on him, though it would not kill Auden, a mortal wound could incapacitate him enough to give Kedron the time he needed to do something far worse with Auden than he could imagine.

No, that wasn’t worth the brief moment of satisfaction that escaping would bring. The other scenarios that ran through his head ended in much the same way: he needed more information before he did anything rash.

He huffed at his conclusion. Logic truly was a curse, times. Especially now, when nothing would please Auden more than ripping Kedron’s head clean from his body.

Instead, Auden reined in his anger and calmly asked, “So, what might the need for this be?”

When Kedron turned his way, Auden gesticulated with his bound wrists. Kedron just smirked, “Well, I can’t imagine you’d have come with me willingly if I’d asked first.”

“Come where?” Auden asked, his heartbeat quickening.

“Does it matter? You’re coming whether you like it or not.”

Angry, Auden spat, “You know not who you’re dealing with, mortal.”

Not bothering to look up from what he was doing, Kedron snorted derisively, “Oh, is that right? Does calling mere humans like me ‘mortals’ actually get a rise out of anyone?”

Auden sputtered, annoyance getting the better of him, “I could kill you in a second, you worm. You, your wife, your children, and everyone you love. I could kill them in an instant.”

Kedron’s eyes had darkened when they met Auden’s again, “Is that so?” He paused, finishing whatever it was he was doing on the ground and standing, walking slowly over to where Auden was still laid on his stomach atop his cot. “Good thing I don’t have any of that, then.”

Auden’s teeth gnashed as he sat himself upright, kneeling to raise himself up to Kedron as he approached, “What do you want from me, Kedron?” He flexed his forearms, preparing to rip himself free and fight for his life.

His eyes glinted as he responded, “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what my client wants. I’m simply the middleman.”

Now too close for comfort, Auden knew that if he was going to escape quickly and easily, he was nearly out of time. He yanked his arms apart and… nothing. They stayed bound, perhaps even tighter than just a second ago. Auden’s eyes went wide.

He tugged again as Kedron chuckled that low, grating chuckle, “Pull all you want, immortal. You won’t get out of that.”

Auden knew, somehow, that Kedron was right, but still, he yanked and tugged and pulled with all his might. And still, he was unable to get free. Panting from his efforts, he simply looked up at Kedron with a question in his eyes.

“It’s wound with a combination of deadly nightshade and henbane, among other things,” he explained calmly, “I’ve found that certain herbs do well, for a time, as long as they’re fresh, in rendering even the most awesome might ineffective.”

Kedron leaned in so close that Auden instinctually shrunk away from him, “And trust me, boy. You’re not the first one of your kind I’ve dealt with.

“Don’t worry about any of those other powers you might have, either,” Kedron continued, almost bored as he stood up, drenching a piece of cloth with the strange mixture he’d fashioned moments before, “the anesthetic properties of the cord permeates your entire body. It might not be strong enough alone to knock you out, but it’ll shut those extra powers down for a while still.”

Auden clenched his jaw again, his nostrils flaring, but he could tell Kedron was right; his body wasn’t responding to him as it normally would. It was sluggish, drained, aching for sleep. He couldn’t think right– everything was muddled, foggy. It was as though he was wading through sludge in his mind.

Knowing Kedron would never give him any straightforward answers, he resigned to simply hissing a venomous, “Fuck you.”

Kedron tutted, “And here I thought we were having such a civil conversation. I should have known better than to expect that from your kind.”

Losing control of his temper, Auden gnashed his teeth at Kedron, throwing his weight forward in a last-ditch effort to save himself. Kedron easily caught his jaw in his hand, pressing his thumb and forefinger tightly into the hollows of Auden’s cheeks, holding his mouth open.

“Now, say ‘ah!’” Kedron taunted, and shoved the dripping rag into Auden’s waiting mouth. Immediately, he tried to push it out with his tongue, but Kedron pressed the palm of his hand over his mouth, sealing it in. With ease, he pressed harder against Auden’s head, and Auden found himself being knocked back onto his cot, looking up at his captor.

Auden could feel the wet of whatever was on the rag between his mouth sliding down the back of his throat. Panic threatened to seize him, but his body, his senses, were far past that. He was too numb, and with each swallow, his world grew slower, darker; with each blink, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. He mumbled something into Kedron’s hand, but not even Auden knew what he’d been trying to say.

“That dwale really works wonders, doesn’t it? Combined with the nightshade and the henbane, you didn’t stand a chance, kid. A shame, really. Thought you’d put up more of a fight,” Kedron sneered.

Auden feebly tried to shake his head free of Kedron’s grasp, but it did no good.

He watched through blurry eyes as Kedron leaned down close, grinning from ear to ear. The last thing he heard was a derisive, “Sweet dreams…” before everything went black.

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass <3

[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 3: Storm

WARNINGS: deception, betrayal, restraints, gagged, drugged, kidnapping

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

Just overtop the cave he’d hidden away in, a thunderclap ripped Auden out of the solace he’d finally found in a peaceful, deep sleep. He rubbed his rough hands over his eyes, lamenting the dream slowly slipping away from his memory.

“Fucking figures,” he mumbled as a bright flash of lightning illuminated his makeshift home, followed by a second clap of thunder just as deafening as the first.

Yawning with his arms outstretched, he allowed himself a few safe moments to gather his wits and his bearings, turning toward the cave entrance to gauge how early in the night he’d been awoken.

Auden had to squint as yet another bright flash cut across his vision while he stared at the sky, but this time, he noticed the distinct, shadowed shape of a man, hunched over and clutching his abdomen, directly in front of the opening.

In a moment, he had sprung to his feet, rushing toward the stranger, calling out to him, asking if he was alright. He slowed his steps as he neared the man, concerned but not anywhere near naive enough in his ancient age to risk getting too close.

“Sir? Can you hear me? I asked if you were alright,” Auden reiterated, halting a few feet before the cave entrance. He was suddenly unsure how to proceed; he wanted to help, but, in his experience, this was the oldest trick in the book: lure the prey out of the warmth of their dens, then strike when they least suspect it.

At a mental impasse, Auden waited to see what, if anything, the stranger would do. And he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Haggard breaths escaped the hunched man, now leaning heavily against a wide tree trunk, but other than that, there was little change in the stranger’s demeanor or actions. It wasn’t until he finally collapsed to his knees that Auden felt safe enough to step out of his relative security.

“Hey, whoa there,” Auden soothed, “are you okay? Can you tell me your name?”

For the first time, the man looked up at Auden, his eyes tired and sunken in. The lines in his weathered face disarmed Auden further; this man, this stranger– his face told a harrowing story. He must have been through terrible hardships, immeasurable sorrows– they were etched so clearly into his skin. The man’s eyes were coal black and dull, heavily lidded with fatigue, and his lips parting and shutting repeatedly in attempts to verbalize his thoughts. Eventually, he succeeded.

“They– call me Kedron,” he stammered, his gravelly voice gliding slowly across his vocal cords. It sounded as though he hadn’t used it for years.

Relief flooded Auden’s features, “That’s good. I’m Auden. Can I help you out of this weather?”

As if to punctuate his question, the sky exploded with another shuddering clap, making Kedron wince. “If you wouldn’t– mind, that would be great. Thank– you.”

Auden tossed Kedron’s arm over his shoulders and slowly helped raise him from the ground. Kedron winced as they stood fully upright, and Auden waited patiently for him to gather the strength to move. By this point, they were utterly and completely drenched to their bones by the severe thunderstorm bursting overhead, but Auden paid no mind. What worried him more was the dark stain seeping through Kedron’s shirt.

Slowly, they made their way the few feet to the entrance of the cave. Kedron was impressively mobile considering his wound– or, perhaps, he was not willing to let Auden see just how badly his wound was affecting him. Either way, Kedron moved with hardly a limp at all, though he did throw a decent amount of his weight upon Auden as they moved deeper into the cave.

Auden had made his temporary shelter as homey as he could: he’d woven a mattress from hay and long grass found nearby, dug in a fire pit, accentuating the edges with brimstones scavenged from nearby– both to protect from possible fire spread and for decoration– he’d even created a spit roast for hunted game. Around the fire pit, Auden had chopped a tree trunk into smaller sections and set each stump as a seat.

He began to lead Kedron over to his bed, but Kedron thoroughly protested, “I’m alright, really. I just need to sit a while. Help me over to one of those logs, would you?”

“Of course, if you think you’re up for it.”

Kedron snapped back, “I am up for it, boy. I don’t need you telling me what I can and can’t do.”

Surprised, Auden searched for the right words, “I… right, yes. I apologize, I didn’t intend to imply anything.”

“Hmph,” Kedron grumbled as Auden helped settle him on the log closest to the wall.

Squatting across the fire pit from Kedron, Auden couldn’t ignore the unsettling dread gathering in the pit of his stomach. He’d like to chalk it up to his wariness of strangers and the anxieties that brings with it, but something about this interaction just seemed… off.

Taking two twigs, he rubbed them together atop the kindling he set into the pit, lighting a fire to warm the both of them, and the entire time, his eyes never left the weary form of his new guest.

Silence settled heavy between the two men as they stared at the fire as it roared to life. The crackle of lightning and the eruption of thunder every so often provided enough background noise to keep an unsettling weight from fully infiltrating the air, but it did still persist. It was starting to nip at Auden’s sanity as he waited for Kedron to speak again.

When it was all too clear that Kedron wasn’t going to be the one to break the increasing tension, Auden cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry at all, or thirsty?” he asked tentatively, careful not to reignite Kedron’s clearly short temper.

Kedron chuckled lowly, “I could always eat, but that can wait until the morning.”

“Ah, I see. Alright,” Auden responded, taking an awkward beat. He cleared his throat again, “Well, I think I’ll head to bed. Please, wake me if you need anything.”

Kedron merely grumbled in response, and Auden was losing the patience to deal with him. He stood, stretching his back, and then headed deeper into the cave, dropping into his hand-woven cot. Normally, he’d have offered it to the stranger, but it was clear that Kedron was just as wary of Auden as he was of him. Auden hoped that by offering to sleep first, it would be received as a sign of good faith and trust, and that perhaps in the morning they could build a better rapport. Or, perhaps the stranger would be gone. At this point, either option would do.

He hadn’t actually intended on falling asleep. He wrongly assumed that the inconsistent booms from the sky above would keep him alert, conscious, and aware of this enigmatic guest.

Instead, the traitorous weather lessened in extremity. The storm dulled into a steady downpour, and the soothing tempo soon lulled Auden into a deep, overwhelming sleep…

Sweet dreams of meadows and lost loves were stolen as Auden was abruptly awoken, the world around him bright, with birds chirping off in the distance as the leaves rustled in the wind of a new day.

Disoriented, he shut his eyes again, groaning into his pillow. It was too early, he didn’t want to be awake yet. There was a horrible pounding in his head, and everything felt leaden. Shoving his face further down, he tried to remember the events of the last night. He’d awoken to a storm, he’d looked out to the sky, he’d seen a man—

He stilled when he heard a familiar, low chuckle.

“Rule number one, kid. Never drop your guard,” Kedron chided from behind him.

It was then that Auden realized he was on his stomach, still on his cot in his cozy little cave, with his guest leaning over him as he scolded Auden as one would a child.

As Kedron stepped away from him, Auden realized that his limp, and the wound that caused it, either must have healed very quickly in the few hours he’d been asleep, or it had never been there to begin with.

Auden was inclined to believe the latter.

“I see that your wound has healed, Kedron,” Auden accused through gritted teeth. He was groggy from his sudden awakening, but his mind was working hard to catch him up to speed.

Kedron raised his eyebrows, making a show of lifting his shirt to examine his abdomen, which was clear of any kind of scarring or bruising.

“Ah! So it has, so it has,” he winked at Auden, dropping the hem and squatting down, gathering something together on the floor just out of sight.

Auden went to sit himself up, but his arms weren’t responding like they should have. A few tugs found his wrists crossed over themselves and bound by something that felt like a cord of hemp. He clenched his jaw a few times, combing through his options in his mind.

The option at the forefront of his mind was ripping through the flimsy cords that bound him and strangling the traitor he’d invited into his home, but he had to stop himself and consider the alternatives.

If Kedron had any kind of weapons stashed on him, though it would not kill Auden, a mortal wound could incapacitate him enough to give Kedron the time he needed to do something far worse with Auden than he could imagine.

No, that wasn’t worth the brief moment of satisfaction that escaping would bring. The other scenarios that ran through his head ended in much the same way: he needed more information before he did anything rash.

He huffed at his conclusion. Logic truly was a curse, times. Especially now, when nothing would please Auden more than ripping Kedron’s head clean from his body.

Instead, Auden reined in his anger and calmly asked, “So, what might the need for this be?”

When Kedron turned his way, Auden gesticulated with his bound wrists. Kedron just smirked, “Well, I can’t imagine you’d have come with me willingly if I’d asked first.”

“Come where?” Auden asked, his heartbeat quickening.

“Does it matter? You’re coming whether you like it or not.”

Angry, Auden spat, “You know not who you’re dealing with, mortal.”

Not bothering to look up from what he was doing, Kedron snorted derisively, “Oh, is that right? Does calling mere humans like me ‘mortals’ actually get a rise out of anyone?”

Auden sputtered, annoyance getting the better of him, “I could kill you in a second, you worm. You, your wife, your children, and everyone you love. I could kill them in an instant.”

Kedron’s eyes had darkened when they met Auden’s again, “Is that so?” He paused, finishing whatever it was he was doing on the ground and standing, walking slowly over to where Auden was still laid on his stomach atop his cot. “Good thing I don’t have any of that, then.”

Auden’s teeth gnashed as he sat himself upright, kneeling to raise himself up to Kedron as he approached, “What do you want from me, Kedron?” He flexed his forearms, preparing to rip himself free and fight for his life.

His eyes glinted as he responded, “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what my client wants. I’m simply the middleman.”

Now too close for comfort, Auden knew that if he was going to escape quickly and easily, he was nearly out of time. He yanked his arms apart and… nothing. They stayed bound, perhaps even tighter than just a second ago. Auden’s eyes went wide.

He tugged again as Kedron chuckled that low, grating chuckle, “Pull all you want, immortal. You won’t get out of that.”

Auden knew, somehow, that Kedron was right, but still, he yanked and tugged and pulled with all his might. And still, he was unable to get free. Panting from his efforts, he simply looked up at Kedron with a question in his eyes.

“It’s wound with a combination of deadly nightshade and henbane, among other things,” he explained calmly, “I’ve found that certain herbs do well, for a time, as long as they’re fresh, in rendering even the most awesome might ineffective.”

Kedron leaned in so close that Auden instinctually shrunk away from him, “And trust me, boy. You’re not the first one of your kind I’ve dealt with.

“Don’t worry about any of those other powers you might have, either,” Kedron continued, almost bored as he stood up, drenching a piece of cloth with the strange mixture he’d fashioned moments before, “the anesthetic properties of the cord permeates your entire body. It might not be strong enough alone to knock you out, but it’ll shut those extra powers down for a while still.”

Auden clenched his jaw again, his nostrils flaring, but he could tell Kedron was right; his body wasn’t responding to him as it normally would. It was sluggish, drained, aching for sleep. He couldn’t think right– everything was muddled, foggy. It was as though he was wading through sludge in his mind.

Knowing Kedron would never give him any straightforward answers, he resigned to simply hissing a venomous, “Fuck you.”

Kedron tutted, “And here I thought we were having such a civil conversation. I should have known better than to expect that from your kind.”

Losing control of his temper, Auden gnashed his teeth at Kedron, throwing his weight forward in a last-ditch effort to save himself. Kedron easily caught his jaw in his hand, pressing his thumb and forefinger tightly into the hollows of Auden’s cheeks, holding his mouth open.

“Now, say ‘ah!’” Kedron taunted, and shoved the dripping rag into Auden’s waiting mouth. Immediately, he tried to push it out with his tongue, but Kedron pressed the palm of his hand over his mouth, sealing it in. With ease, he pressed harder against Auden’s head, and Auden found himself being knocked back onto his cot, looking up at his captor.

Auden could feel the wet of whatever was on the rag between his mouth sliding down the back of his throat. Panic threatened to seize him, but his body, his senses, were far past that. He was too numb, and with each swallow, his world grew slower, darker; with each blink, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. He mumbled something into Kedron’s hand, but not even Auden knew what he’d been trying to say.

“That dwale really works wonders, doesn’t it? Combined with the nightshade and the henbane, you didn’t stand a chance, kid. A shame, really. Thought you’d put up more of a fight,” Kedron sneered.

Auden feebly tried to shake his head free of Kedron’s grasp, but it did no good.

He watched through blurry eyes as Kedron leaned down close, grinning from ear to ear. The last thing he heard was a derisive, “Sweet dreams…” before everything went black.

@whumpcember @sgt-seabass <3

[crepuscura]

i love you so much, your tags made me grin like a moron. thank you so much for reading and i'm glad you enjoyed!!!!!!!!!!!

Whumpcember2022 Day 2: Alt. Option 2, Desperation

Auden let out another pained cry as the leather whip gouged a fresh gash into the brutalized skin of his back. His fists clenched the air, his arms lashed above him, forced to hold his weight while his ankles were shackled to the wall a few yards away, the chains shortened and wrenched backward to keep him, quite literally, on his toes and off balance.

No matter how he twisted, he couldn't find any relief from the blazing agony of his new wound. He tried to hoist himself up and ease the pressure on his chafing wrists, his biceps retaining an impressive amount of strength after how long he’d endured his torture already, but as soon as he did, his captor whipped him again.

He had lost track of how many lashings he had received, but he was nearing his breaking point. He could feel it. And that terrified him.

“Have you learned your lesson yet, pet?” Agrona asked; Auden could hear the smile in her voice.

He steeled himself to respond with snark, determined not to let her see just how weak he truly felt, when the heavy wooden doors sealing Auden in what he felt would be his tomb cracked open, hitting the gothic stone walls with a thud.

That was when the color fully drained from Auden’s face.

Agrona’s eyes flicked between him and the doorway before she took a step back, clapping her hands together once, loudly, making Auden flinch before he could stop himself.

She smirked, “Ah, right on time.”

Two large henchmen dragged Heath in by his elbows. He wasn’t scrawny by any means, but in comparison to these big buffoons, it was essentially like dragging in a cat on a leash. A feral, pissed-off cat, mind you, but still.

His face was marked with clear, well-defined bruises, some old, some strikingly new. Scars were raked across his unclothed torso, the only attempt at modesty for him made with some old linen trousers that stopped mid-calf.

Without thought, Auden let out a whimper, so small that the everyday layperson may not have even noticed. But Heath heard him, and his gaze laser focused on the man he loved, strung up like a deer to be field dressed and looking like he was already halfway there.

“No– let him down. You let him down this instant!” Heath’s voice reverberated around the small, circular room.

Agrona raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “Good morning to you, too.”

“Please,” Auden whispered, heard only by Agrona.

She turned to him, eyes ablaze, teeth bared, “Hush, pet.”

Heath uselessly yanked against the arms of Agrona’s oversized lackeys, but he made no progress other than receiving a solid blow to the gut when he managed to connect his heel to the groin of the one on his right. He bent as far forward as he could, coughing through the pain now raging through his gut.

“Hey!” Agrona hollered, taking quickened steps toward the three men in the doorway. “I will not tolerate violence against my little Heathy in my presence, is that understood? What you idiots get up to in your spare time is yours alone to experience, but hear me now: you do not touch a hair on this man’s head ever again. Nod if you understand.”

Each goon nodded solemnly as Agrona reached forward, clasping Heath’s face between her cold, smooth, perfectly manicured fingers, “Oh, my dear, are you alright?”

Heath took two ragged breaths before muttering, “Let. Him. Down.”

Agrona’s eyes turned cold, “Is that all you have to say to me? ‘Let him down, let him down,’ have you suddenly lost the rest of your vocabulary?” She dropped her hands, turning away from him and reaching down to grab the whip she abandoned when she’d rushed to Heath’s side. “I don’t see why he’s so important to you. He’s simply a commodity. A vein to be mined, a house pet to be trained.”

To prove her point, again she flicked the whip in Auden’s direction, striking him between his shoulder blades. The laceration cut so deeply that it bled instantly, stripes of red raining down until they caught old grooves slashed into his back hours before and trailed along them, creating a sick, mesmerizing, abstract masterpiece.

Auden shook for a moment as the hit rippled through him, but he stayed silent, strong. He couldn’t show weakness while Heath was there. The feisty young man Auden had grown to love over the past year would inevitably do something self-sacrificial and stupid, and while Auden wasn’t immune to pain, he was immortal. In defiance of Agrona’s best efforts, he would survive. The same could not be said for Heath.

It was that thought that kept him upright through the next lashing, and the next and the next. Auden did his best to drown out Heath’s screaming and pleas for her to stop with the repetition of a secret word that became his mantra.

Heath.

Heath.

Heath.

Hea–

Auden let out a cry as Agrona struck him with something new across the face. It felt as though dozens of razors had raked through his skin; immediately, his eye swelled shut as a wet heat coated the right side of his face. Before he could adjust to this newest injury, there was a hard blow to his side that wrenched his arms out of the strength of their bent pose, followed quickly by a sharp stabbing sensation beneath his ribs. Auden looked down and found what looked to be an ancient javelin jutting out of his torso.

A scream of rage and agony tore itself from Auden’s throat. He couldn’t contain it, and at that moment, he didn’t care. Everything dropped away, replaced with searing pain so blinding, it dulled every sense he had. The shouts in the room were muffled; he couldn’t tell who was yelling, or when it started, or why. His vision had gone white, aided by the fact that he couldn’t open his right eye at all anymore, anyway. All he could taste, smell, feel was the blood rushing out of his body, fleeing the torment he was trapped in, and Auden desperately wished he could follow it. He, too, wanted to escape, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew he had to stay, that he had stayed as long as he had for a reason. What that reason was, he couldn’t fathom. All he knew was the torture of the here and the now.

Moments passed with Auden trapped in this purgatory state of bare consciousness and near death. The promise of eternity racing through his veins bound him to this existence, a power he’d been too afraid to tap into for decades now for fear of the consequences it would have on the others around him. It was that thought, combined with his rapid healing abilities sewing shut his larger, mortal wounds, that drug him out of his sluggish reverie and back into reality.

If only he’d been able to do that sooner.

“I’ll do anything,” Heath pleaded, his voice audibly shaking as he drooped, defeated, in the arms of the henchmen.

The corner of Agrona’s mouth quirked upward, “Anything?”

Without a second thought, Heath responded, “Anything. Please, just– don’t hurt him anymore. Promise me that, and I will do anything you ask.”

Agrona tuts, mulling over Heath’s offer as she slowly strolled back to Auden’s collapsed form. She unceremoniously yanked the javelin out of his body, and he shuddered. With its dripping, bladed tip, she tilted Auden’s chin upward.

In a low tone, she grinned at him, “If only I had known just how much of an asset you would be to me, I would have brought him in here ages ago.”

Auden clenched his jaw in disgust before she dropped his head, his shoulders aching against the weight of his limp body as it recovered from her attack.

Turning back toward a broken and disheveled Heath, Agrona offered him her most sympathetic look, “My darling, of course, of course. Shall we shake on it?”

“N– n–” Auden feebly attempted to stop them, but he was too weak, and too late.

The second their hands met, Agrona’s goons let Heath go, dropping him just outside of the room. Agrona followed him, crouching down and taking his elbow as the henchman entered the torture chamber.

Heath’s eyes laid heavily on Agrona as he uttered over and over again, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Lovingly, she traced his tired features, “Of course, my love. I promise not to touch him. And in return, for your end of the deal–” she places a gentle kiss on Heath’s forehead “–in the coming months, before the land, we shall be married.”

Heath jerked out of her touch, causing her to frown slightly, “What? No, no, that’s– I won’t– you can’t–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she chided, tapping his nose, “you said anything.”

Heath’s face turned ashen as he realized just what he’d gotten himself into.

Agrona just chuckled, “You’d do well to consider your verbage the next time you’re desperate to make a deal.” Her eyes dance as, in their periphery, her goons each pick up a weapon within the room, taking slow steps toward Auden’s slumped shape.

Heath turned his head, his eyes going wide, “Wait, what are they doing? You promised!”

With a sharp laugh, Agrona’s chuckle turned into a cackle, “Yes, my dear, I did promise. They, however, did not.”The doors shut slowly before Heath, and the last thing he heard was a sickening crunch and a yelp from inside the chamber before the doors sealed themselves shut with a heavy thunk.

tags: @whumpcember @sgt-seabass <3

[crepuscura]

you're so sweet i love you so MUCH 😭😭😭💖💖💖

Whumpcember2022 Day 1: Hypothermia

Rowan ran and ran until her lungs ached and screamed for reprieve. She knew she couldn’t stop. What she was running from was nowhere near as bad as the bleak, blanketed forest she was darting through.

Terror overrode the pain she felt– not only the burning throughout her chest, but the dull ache in her frozen feet and the new numbness in her winding lacerations and wounds. She was painted black and blue, blossoming welts coating her fair skin that stood out sharply against her stark white surroundings. The only thing protecting her from the sharp bite of the wind whipping against her was a baggy, thin, long sleeved linen tunic draped over her lean frame. It did little to save her from the sting of the blizzard before her, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except putting one foot in front of the other.

She couldn’t stop. She had to keep going.

After what felt like hours of running on end, Rowan finally allowed herself to slow, her focused tunnel vision on the landscape before her widening as she looked around to take stock of where exactly she had ended up. It was impossible to tell; everywhere she looked, dark tree trunks reached for the sky, disappearing in a mangled knot of writhing branches and pointed icicles. Everything looked the same, no matter which direction she turned toward. She spun around so many times, with each turn more frantic than the last, that she lost track of what direction she’d come from.

Tears threatened to douse her flushed cheeks, and as she twisted around one more time, she curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her chest before collapsing onto her knees into the thick snow.

“So, this is how it ends,” Rowan thought to herself. She nearly chuckled, hunching over and pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes, “At least hypothermia is more forgiving than the blade of a knife.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” a deep, sultry voice crooned in Rowan’s mind.

She froze. “No,” she barely dared to breathe as she continued to chatter within her own head, “she can’t be here. It’s not possible. There’s no way she could know–”

The voice snapped behind her, “I’m the one who tells you what’s possible or not; you listen to me, Rowan.”

Slowly, Rowan turned, meeting dark eyes and a plump, red scowl. “Damia,” Rowan responded, barely audible above the unrelenting winds and the deafening beat of her heart.

Damia snarled, “Did I say you could speak?”

Quick as a flash, Damia braced one hand against the back of Rowan’s head, the other in the center of her back. She forced Rowan’s head down so fast, Rowan barely had time to shut her eyes before her mouth and nose were filled with a flood of ice. Immediately she inhaled it, choking and sputtering beneath the sheet of snow she’d sunken into. Her muscles, so cold and worn out from her escape attempt, spasmed, useless in any attempt to keep her lungs clear.

She reached up, pawing at the hands holding her down. The longer she stayed face down in the feet of fluffy white snow she had collapsed in, the heavier her chest felt. Her lungs turned to iron, barely able to flex beneath her ribs, and her nostrils flared as her mouth opened and shut uselessly, searching for a supply of oxygen that would never come. Her vision started to go black, stars of different shapes, colors, and sizes dancing before her in the dark of the cold. She felt her weakened muscles relax, and allowed herself to sink into her death. It would all be over soon, and then, maybe, she could start to find peace.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Damia grumbled, yanking Rowan’s head up, whipping her around so quickly that her eyes spun as she was jerked to a halt. The next thing Rowan knew, her back was flat against the trunk of a tree and she was crashing to the ground, her upper body doused in a fresh coat of snow from the branches above her.

Rowan reached up, grabbing at the back of her head after it bounced against the hard bark of the tree, “Ah, fuck, Damia.”

Damia cocked a hip and tapped her chin, thinking a moment before responding, “You know what? I think some time out here might do you some good. I’ll be back for you in the morning.”

With that, Damia disappeared, her inhuman speed incomprehensible to the human eye.

Rowan stared at the spot she had been in, still rubbing the lump forming on the back of her head. She sat up a little, eyes turned up toward the sky. It was still light out, and already she could feel a biting chill seeping into her bones.

It was going to be a long night.

@whumpcember happy 1st <3

[crepuscura]

Whumpcember2022 Day 2: Alt. Option 2, Desperation

WARNINGS: whipping, reatraints, stress position,s, pain, torture, blood, injuries, desperation, begging

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Auden let out another pained cry as the leather whip gouged a fresh gash into the brutalized skin of his back. His fists clenched the air, his arms lashed above him, forced to hold his weight while his ankles were shackled to the wall a few yards away, the chains shortened and wrenched backward to keep him, quite literally, on his toes and off balance.

No matter how he twisted, he couldn't find any relief from the blazing agony of his new wound. He tried to hoist himself up and ease the pressure on his chafing wrists, his biceps retaining an impressive amount of strength after how long he’d endured his torture already, but as soon as he did, his captor whipped him again.

He had lost track of how many lashings he had received, but he was nearing his breaking point. He could feel it. And that terrified him.

“Have you learned your lesson yet, pet?” Agrona asked; Auden could hear the smile in her voice.

He steeled himself to respond with snark, determined not to let her see just how weak he truly felt, when the heavy wooden doors sealing Auden in what he felt would be his tomb cracked open, hitting the gothic stone walls with a thud.

That was when the color fully drained from Auden’s face.

Agrona’s eyes flicked between him and the doorway before she took a step back, clapping her hands together once, loudly, making Auden flinch before he could stop himself.

She smirked, “Ah, right on time.”

Two large henchmen dragged Heath in by his elbows. He wasn’t scrawny by any means, but in comparison to these big buffoons, it was essentially like dragging in a cat on a leash. A feral, pissed-off cat, mind you, but still.

His face was marked with clear, well-defined bruises, some old, some strikingly new. Scars were raked across his unclothed torso, the only attempt at modesty for him made with some old linen trousers that stopped mid-calf.

Without thought, Auden let out a whimper, so small that the everyday layperson may not have even noticed. But Heath heard him, and his gaze laser focused on the man he loved, strung up like a deer to be field dressed and looking like he was already halfway there.

“No– let him down. You let him down this instant!” Heath’s voice reverberated around the small, circular room.

Agrona raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “Good morning to you, too.”

“Please,” Auden whispered, heard only by Agrona.

She turned to him, eyes ablaze, teeth bared, “Hush, pet.”

Heath uselessly yanked against the arms of Agrona’s oversized lackeys, but he made no progress other than receiving a solid blow to the gut when he managed to connect his heel to the groin of the one on his right. He bent as far forward as he could, coughing through the pain now raging through his gut.

“Hey!” Agrona hollered, taking quickened steps toward the three men in the doorway. “I will not tolerate violence against my little Heathy in my presence, is that understood? What you idiots get up to in your spare time is yours alone to experience, but hear me now: you do not touch a hair on this man’s head ever again. Nod if you understand.”

Each goon nodded solemnly as Agrona reached forward, clasping Heath’s face between her cold, smooth, perfectly manicured fingers, “Oh, my dear, are you alright?”

Heath took two ragged breaths before muttering, “Let. Him. Down.”

Agrona’s eyes turned cold, “Is that all you have to say to me? ‘Let him down, let him down,’ have you suddenly lost the rest of your vocabulary?” She dropped her hands, turning away from him and reaching down to grab the whip she abandoned when she’d rushed to Heath’s side. “I don’t see why he’s so important to you. He’s simply a commodity. A vein to be mined, a house pet to be trained.”

To prove her point, again she flicked the whip in Auden’s direction, striking him between his shoulder blades. The laceration cut so deeply that it bled instantly, stripes of red raining down until they caught old grooves slashed into his back hours before and trailed along them, creating a sick, mesmerizing, abstract masterpiece.

Auden shook for a moment as the hit rippled through him, but he stayed silent, strong. He couldn’t show weakness while Heath was there. The feisty young man Auden had grown to love over the past year would inevitably do something self-sacrificial and stupid, and while Auden wasn’t immune to pain, he was immortal. In defiance of Agrona’s best efforts, he would survive. The same could not be said for Heath.

It was that thought that kept him upright through the next lashing, and the next and the next. Auden did his best to drown out Heath’s screaming and pleas for her to stop with the repetition of a secret word that became his mantra.

Heath.

Heath.

Heath.

Hea–

Auden let out a cry as Agrona struck him with something new across the face. It felt as though dozens of razors had raked through his skin; immediately, his eye swelled shut as a wet heat coated the right side of his face. Before he could adjust to this newest injury, there was a hard blow to his side that wrenched his arms out of the strength of their bent pose, followed quickly by a sharp stabbing sensation beneath his ribs. Auden looked down and found what looked to be an ancient javelin jutting out of his torso.

A scream of rage and agony tore itself from Auden’s throat. He couldn’t contain it, and at that moment, he didn’t care. Everything dropped away, replaced with searing pain so blinding, it dulled every sense he had. The shouts in the room were muffled; he couldn’t tell who was yelling, or when it started, or why. His vision had gone white, aided by the fact that he couldn’t open his right eye at all anymore, anyway. All he could taste, smell, feel was the blood rushing out of his body, fleeing the torment he was trapped in, and Auden desperately wished he could follow it. He, too, wanted to escape, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew he had to stay, that he had stayed as long as he had for a reason. What that reason was, he couldn’t fathom. All he knew was the torture of the here and the now.

Moments passed with Auden trapped in this purgatory state of bare consciousness and near death. The promise of eternity racing through his veins bound him to this existence, a power he’d been too afraid to tap into for decades now for fear of the consequences it would have on the others around him. It was that thought, combined with his rapid healing abilities sewing shut his larger, mortal wounds, that drug him out of his sluggish reverie and back into reality.

If only he’d been able to do that sooner.

“I’ll do anything,” Heath pleaded, his voice audibly shaking as he drooped, defeated, in the arms of the henchmen.

The corner of Agrona’s mouth quirked upward, “Anything?”

Without a second thought, Heath responded, “Anything. Please, just– don’t hurt him anymore. Promise me that, and I will do anything you ask.”

Agrona tuts, mulling over Heath’s offer as she slowly strolled back to Auden’s collapsed form. She unceremoniously yanked the javelin out of his body, and he shuddered. With its dripping, bladed tip, she tilted Auden’s chin upward.

In a low tone, she grinned at him, “If only I had known just how much of an asset you would be to me, I would have brought him in here ages ago.”

Auden clenched his jaw in disgust before she dropped his head, his shoulders aching against the weight of his limp body as it recovered from her attack.

Turning back toward a broken and disheveled Heath, Agrona offered him her most sympathetic look, “My darling, of course, of course. Shall we shake on it?”

“N– n–” Auden feebly attempted to stop them, but he was too weak, and too late.

The second their hands met, Agrona’s goons let Heath go, dropping him just outside of the room. Agrona followed him, crouching down and taking his elbow as the henchman entered the torture chamber.

Heath’s eyes laid heavily on Agrona as he uttered over and over again, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Lovingly, she traced his tired features, “Of course, my love. I promise not to touch him. And in return, for your end of the deal–” she places a gentle kiss on Heath’s forehead “–in the coming months, before the land, we shall be married.”

Heath jerked out of her touch, causing her to frown slightly, “What? No, no, that’s– I won’t– you can’t–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she chided, tapping his nose, “you said anything.”

Heath’s face turned ashen as he realized just what he’d gotten himself into.

Agrona just chuckled, “You’d do well to consider your verbage the next time you’re desperate to make a deal.” Her eyes dance as, in their periphery, her goons each pick up a weapon within the room, taking slow steps toward Auden’s slumped shape.

Heath turned his head, his eyes going wide, “Wait, what are they doing? You promised!”

With a sharp laugh, Agrona’s chuckle turned into a cackle, “Yes, my dear, I did promise. They, however, did not.”

The doors shut slowly before Heath, and the last thing he heard was a sickening crunch and a yelp from inside the chamber before the doors sealed themselves shut with a heavy thunk.

tags: @whumpcember @sgt-seabass <3