kabie-whump

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 23: Presumed Dead ♡

@febuwhump

Y'all thought you'd escaped Solstice content? Please.

Content: referenced wing amuptation, blood mention, cult references, memory loss mention, angel whumpee, touch starved whumpee

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︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The temple ahead is a beacon of light: Solstice’s only focal point as they stumble up the steep hill towards it. Their bare feet went numb from the cold and the pain hours ago and their legs shake with every step, but they push themselves just a little further. Just a little longer.

They’ve walked for so long. So long that the sun has started to rise behind the temple, lighting it from behind and making the stained glass glow in blinding rainbows. Solstice hears a laugh bubble up from their raw throat. They can’t remember the last time they saw this many colors in one place. It’s been nothing but red and black and gold for so long. 

It feels like they’re dreaming.

Solstice collapses against the temple doors; smooth mahogany carved with images of two interlocking rings. They’re too heavy to be pushed open by Solstice's weight alone.

“Help.” Their voice is nothing but a whisper, barely audible to their own ears. They need to get the attention of whoever’s inside, to find help before the cultists track their bloody footprints here and drag them back into the dark.

Solstice opens their mouth to try again, but nothing comes and they are struck with a wave of dizziness that has them crumbling to the ground, gasping for air. Their vision goes dark around the edges, fading in and out dangerously as their body finally gives up on them.

The rest comes in dazed flashes.

Worried faces hovering over them. 

A strange sense of nostalgia as someone carries them inside and they stare up at the carved ceilings - like being held by a parent and carried to bed after a long evening ceremony. 

The sound of a woman singing in a language they haven’t heard aside from in their own screams in ten years. The songs bring warmth and relief to their battered body, lulling them into a deep sleep.

---

“-a miracle they’re still alive. Barronar’s work, surely. I do not know how else they could have found their way back here.”

Solstice’s world fades back in slowly at the sound of soft voices

“And you’re sure that it’s them?” A woman’s voice, the same one that had been singing last night. “We were all so certain that they had been taken back to the realm of the divine. We mourned them. We prayed for them. Barronar gave no indication that they were still amongst mortals.”

Careful hands turn Solstice onto their side, pulling blankets away to expose their skin to the cool air. Solstice shivers, sensation slowly returning to their own body. The familiar pain that has been their constant companion is still there, but it’s dulled now, like it’s very far away.

“I was not certain at first,” the first voice - a man - says. “But these scars…” fingers trace down their back, just to the side of their spine. Solstice knows the spot well. There were wings there once. “It can’t be a coincidence.”

The touch is so gentle Solstice almost can’t feel it. They’d forgotten that touch doesn’t always have to hurt.

“Gods. To think I didn’t recognize the child I birthed.”

“It has been ten long years since we last saw them, and they… They do not look the same. But this is still our divine child, even if they have changed. We just need to worry about bringing Solstice back to the light.”

Solstice jolts at the sound of their own name and the fingers leave their back.

“Solstice?”

They finally manage to drag their eyes open, squinting at the light that pours in from an open window.

Sunlight.

Gods, how long has it been since sunlight last touched their skin? It tastes honeysuckle sweet.

“Welcome back, child,” the man says. 

The woman appears over his shoulder, laughing tearfully. “I would know those eyes anywhere. It really is you. We thought you were dead.”

Solstice stares at the pair. Something stirs in their chest, but the feeling is so alien. Are they supposed to know these people? Have they been here before?

 “Do you…” The woman’s smile fades a little. “Do you remember us?”

Solstice doesn’t know what to say. There’s something so familiar about their surroundings but also so wrong. It’s the feeling of revisiting a strange dream and finding it all exactly the same - impossible and comforting and confusing all at the same time.

The man reaches out, brushing Solstice’s hair out of their face. “It’s okay if you don’t remember. It’s been a long time, but the gods have brought you home to us. To your mortal parents. You are safe here, and we will never let you be taken from us again.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Solstice taglist

@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @hauntedroseart @sapphicccici @altvaggie @alivenova @lolrpop

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 10 - Killing in Self Defense ♡

@febuwhump

Content: Captivity, escape, cults, angel whumpee, stabbing, blood, knives

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︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Blood drips from Solstice’s fingers. They can’t comprehend the sight of it. Their own blood? The blood of the other captives? They see that every day. But not once in 10 years has Solstice ever seen a cultist bleed.

At least, not until tonight.

Solstice doesn’t really understand what happened. They weren’t trying to escape. They didn’t even know that they were capable of killing. But the cultist is on the ground and they aren’t moving and their blood stains Solstice’s tattered clothing.

Their eyes focus in on the key ring attached to the cultist’s belt.

What if…?

Solstice knows how to get to the exit. They have the keys. They don’t know which key goes to which door but surely they can figure it out, right?

But what if someone sees them? They’ll be punished for sure. What if they make it outside and they don't know where they are and they get eaten by wolves? They’re too weak to fight. Too weak to cover much ground on foot.

But there’s a dead cultist on the floor of Solstice’s cell with their own knife sticking out of their chest. Solstice will be punished no matter what. They might as well make the most of it.

Solstice yanks the knife from the corpse’s chest. It’s full of holes. The whole thing is a blur, but they remember stabbing the cultist over and over until the body had long since stopped moving.

It’s a good thing screaming is a mundane sound down here.

Solstice takes the knife in one hand and the key ring in the other, and slips out of their cell door.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Prev | Next

Solstice (angel whumpee) taglist: @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @hauntedroseart @sapphicccici @altvaggie

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 8 - "Why won't it stop?" ♡

@febuwhump

Content: ritual torture, angel whumpee, praying, begging, bondage, cults, knife, blood, poison

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The stone altar was cold under Solstice’s bare back. Chains held their body prone and chafed away at their already worn wrists and ankles. They couldn’t see the ring of cloaked figures watching from the shadows but they could feel their presence like a chill on the back of their collared neck.

The ritual master stepped into the candlelight slowly, reverently, his knife held out in front of him. Solstice tuned out the chanting that rose from the shadows, knowing from experience that allowing those eldritch words to pierce their mind would only make the pain worse.

“Mother,” Solstice whispered. “Please. Save me.”

The knife’s tip reopened old wounds, carving out the same sigils as always.

“Save me,” they repeated, this time in the language of celestials. “Please, Berronar. My divine mother. I have been nothing but faithful.”

Praying didn’t carry the same weight anymore. Not after the cult took their wings away. But they had to try.

Solstice screamed as the ritual master dripped a hot black oil into their wounds, lighting a fire in their veins. The chanting grew louder until it filled their ears and they could feel their celestial essence being ripped away.

It wasn’t until the ritual had ended and the cultists had left them alone on the altar that Solstice could use their cracked voice to pray again.

“Please,” they whispered between exhausted sobs. “I don’t understand. You made me. My parents told me I was a gift from you. Why are you letting this happen? Why doesn’t it stop?”

There was no answer. There was never any answer.

“Just… just a sign. A sign that you’re listening. That you care. That’s all I ask for. Please.”

Nothing.

“Please!”

Their voice echoed back in the empty chamber as they melted into a fit of devastated crying.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Next

Solstice (angel whump) taglist: @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @hauntedroseart @sapphicccici

[kabie-whump]

also i'm a big fan of when caretaker says stuff like "easy, easy. you're okay" like they're soothing a wounded horse

[kabie-whump]

🥱 - Sleep deprivation (I lied, I'm sending 3 instead of twoXD♥️) Thanks again!

Thanks again for your asks! This was fun!

⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

Ventis, Onthyes, and Shayah have been holed up in this partially collapsed watchtower for three days now.

Wind howls through cracks in the stone, fluttering the torn edges of old banners. It's freezing, dark, and nowhere close to safe, but it's the only barrier between them and whatever the thing was that tore through their last camp like paper.

Shayah sleeps light, still in her armor, her axe within arm's reach. Onthyes squats in front of the fire, warming his hands. Onthyes glances over at Ventis-

"I'm fine," Ventis says before Onthyes can voice his question. "I've got it."

He's sitting against a wall, one leg outstretched and the other bent. His palms are cupped around a little ball of glowing blue magic. It flickers like a candle flame, casting an eerie light up onto his face. Right now, this ball of magic is the one thing keeping their enemy from sensing their location and coming for them again.

"You haven't slept in days."

"Well, I've still got it."

Ventis isn't sure that that's even true. He's still awake, sure. He's still fueling the wards around their hiding place. But Onthyes is right. It's been days. It's been days and he hasn't slept at all.

"Ventis..." Onthyes stands and goes over to him, lowering himself to lean against the wall just next to him.

Ventis leans into Onthyes's shoulder. He's toasty warm from being by the fire, and immediately Ventis feels his eyes closing, the urge to doze off here overwhelming.

He jolts upright, his head spinning from the motion. The sphere of light flickers dangerously, and he steadies it by sheer will alone. He can't afford to sleep now. His friends need him to keep this ward alive.

Ventis grits his teeth. "I'm fine," he says again, but his words come out slurred.

Onthyes doesn't say anything for a moment, doesn't move away either. He watches Ventis, scanning him with worry pinching his brow.

"You're not," Onthyes says gently. "You're shaking."

Ventis lets out a stuttering exhale through his nose. "Just... tired."

"Then sleep."

"I can't." Tears of frustration sting at Ventis's eyes against his will. "The ward-"

"I'll wake up Shayah. The two of us can keep watch the old fashioned way while you rest up."

Ventis shakes his head. Onthyes doesn't understand. He can't just sleep, knowing that his friends are waiting for some unknown force to tear them apart. He pulls the ball of magic closer to his chest, drawing both knees up.

"They'll find us."

"Ventis-"

"No. I can feel it, Onthyes. Something's looking for us. It's after us. If I let go, even for a second-"

His voice is trembling now, frayed at the edges. Onthyes reaches for his shoulder and Ventis flinches hard. The magic flares, then gutters like a lamp in the wind. His breath catches. His vision goes dark for less than a second and when it returns, he can't feel his hands.

No.

No, not now, damn it.

The magic flickers again. Ventis's limbs buzz.

"I can't," Ventis gasps, panic rising in his chest. "I can't feel my hands."

"Ventis," Onthyes's voice is suddenly stern as he grabs his wrist. "You're done."

"No no no-"

The magic flickers out.

"No!"

"Shayah, wake up," Onthyes barks.

Shayah is up instantly, axe in hand.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay, Ventis. We can handle it."

Ventis lets his head thump back on the wall, unable to hold it up anymore. Onthyes and Shayah stand back to back, weapons drawn.

And nothing comes. No sudden attack, nothing but a distant chirping of frogs and the crackle of the fire.

Ventis sags forward. Onthyes rushes to catch him before he can hit the ground. His skin is cold and clammy, his breathing quick and shallow.

"See?" Onthyes is panting, forced sunniness barely covering his unease. "Whatever it is, it lost interest. You did great, Ventis."

Ventis swallows back a sob. Now that he's not focusing on the spell, he can really feel just how tired he is. His vision fades in and out, a strange buzzing taking over his hearing.

"Can... Can I-"

"Yeah. You can sleep now."

⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

Ventisposting list

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @purity-weeps

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@saffitaffi @ravenqueen21 @tomato-whump @whumped4whumplover @melpomenelamusa

[kabie-whump]

💧- Waterboarding

The context isn't important let's just say Ventis got snatched from the group and they're torturing him for whatever reason. Also I consider myself to be pretty bad at writing waterboarding but that just means I need more practice so here we go!

⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

The first thing Ventis registers when he wakes up is stone under his back. There's weight—thick, heavy chains carved with anti-magic runes—around his wrists and ankles, another tight around his throat. His head throbs. He's blindfolded and gagged.

The first thing Ventis does is try to summon his magic. He reaches for the storm, just to wind up empty handed and gasping from a burn that radiates out from the chains. He won't get out that way.

"Hold his head."

The voice comes from somewhere off to the left. Ventis tries to turn towards it, only for multiple pairs of hands to grab him, firm grips on his jaw and hair keeping his face up and still.

"Mm!" Ventis doesn't try to struggle anymore—he knows when he's lost a fight—but that doesn't stop him from yelling into the gag.

"Liked him better unconscious," someone mutters.

"Don't worry, he'll shut up in a sec."

A cloth is draped over Ventis's face. It's rough and it smells bad, but linen quality is the least of his worries at the moment.

Cold water hits him in a rush. It soaks into the cloth, flooding his nose, his mouth, his throat. Suddenly he can't breathe, can't spit it out, can't do anything but cough uselessly, his muscles going tight against the restraints.

A hand tightens in his hair, forcing his head still once more.

"Okay."

The water stops.

Ventis gasps for air, barely managing it through the now soaked gag. His ears ring. He can't stop coughing, only taking shallow inhales in between.

The moment his head stops spinning, the water starts again.

⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

Ventisposting list

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @purity-weeps

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@saffitaffi @ravenqueen21 @tomato-whump @whumped4whumplover @melpomenelamusa

[kabie-whump]

🏃- Make them run until they drop (btw if the rest of these could also be about Ventis, that'd be really nice♥️ but only if you want to)

Don't worry Ventis is my favorite to torture <3

⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

They've been running for too long.

The forest blurs into streaks of green and gold, needles of sunlight poking through the canopy. Branches lash at their arms, leaves crunch beneath boots. Behind them: hounds, more boots, warhorns.

Ventis stumbles again. He doesn't fall, but his hand flies out and slaps a tree to steady himself and it's enough for Onthyes to glance back. "I'm okay," Ventis pants, picking up the pace again to keep up.

He's lying. His legs are jelly, his lungs stinging, his mouth tastes of iron. He's only still moving by sheer force of will. One aching foot in front of the other.

Ahead, Onthyes moves like a machine. Heavy plate armor and he still runs like it's nothing. Shayah is just ahead of him, her barbarian garb barely slowing her and her twin axes clutched in her hands.

"This way!" Shayah shouts, veering between some rocks to the left. "We're almost there!"

Onthyes follows her and Ventis drags himself along after them, his heart pounding in his ears. He can't see straight, just keeps Onthyes's crimson cloak in front of him like a beacon.

"Wait," he gasps. Onthyes and Shayah give no sign they heard him.

They can't wait anyway. The dogs are closer now, barking and snarling.

Ventis's foot snags on a root. This time he goes down hard, face first into the dirt. He yelps as he goes down.

"Ventis!" Onthyes skids to a stop and doubles back immediately. "I've got him, Shayah! We'll catch up!"

Onthyes takes Ventis by the arms and hauls him up like he weighs nothing, slinging him onto his back. "Come on," he says, only a little out of breath. "Hold on to my neck."

Ventis wraps his arms around Onthyes's neck, flushing hard with embarrassment. He hates always being the one who has to be carried by the others— always a liability as soon as his magic runs out.

But right now all he can focus on is keeping his grip firm as Onthyes starts running again. His head lolls forward onto his shoulder, and even now he can't stop panting.

"Sorry," Ventis gasps, barely audible over the clanking of Onthyes's armor.

"Don't be," Onthyes says. "Just hold on tight. You did good. Help's not far now."

⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

Ventisposting list

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @purity-weeps

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@saffitaffi @ravenqueen21 @tomato-whump @whumped4whumplover @melpomenelamusa

[kabie-whump]

Hi! I just found your blog and I felt like interacting so question for you:

What are the best forms of physical comfort? What physical comfort tropes do you not see a lot but wish there was more of?

(I've been really interested in bathing recently, like helping whumpee get cleaned up after rescue, so if you have any recs with that I'm all ears.)

I emerge from my tumblr writing sabbatical like a phoenix from the ashes You thought I forgot about this ask, didn't you. Jokes on you. Anyway. Hmmmmmmmm I love hair play. Stroking, brushing, braiding whumpee's hair either to provide comfort or clean it up or keep it out of the way. Like, when a whumpee with long hair gets a fever, and caretaker pulls their sweat-damp hair off of their neck? Chefs kiss. I also think we should have more "whumpee squeezes caretaker's hand to endure the pain". Comfort that isn't necessarily gentle? Um yes plz. I don't have any bathing recs, but I did write a drabble where a gruff caretaker left whumpee to take a shower in their bathroom, only to come back and find them fast asleep on the bathroom floor, no closer to getting clean. Whumpee didn't get a bath in my story, but your ask makes me wonder if they should have.

[kabie-whump]

🥵 - Heat exhaustion for the ask game♥️

Thanks for the ask! Ventis can have some heat exhaustion as a treat <3

⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

Ventis just needs to sit. Just for a moment.

Sure, there's a battle ongoing, but he's out of spell slots so he's not much help at this point anyway. Besides, their attackers have been thinned out enough that Shayah can probably take the rest on her own.

And he really needs to sit down.

Ventis stumbles his way over to the nearest tree, its trunk thick and canopy spread so dense and wide that it feels significantly cooler already as he sinks to his knees, one hand braced on the bark and the other pressed to his throbbing temple.

Gods, his head pounds. It was easy to ignore at first, when he was still part of this fight, but now it's relentless. He blinks hard, trying to rid himself of the black spots invading his vision. His arm shakes, then gives out, and he slumps shoulder-first against the tree.

"Ventis?"

Ventis can't even bring himself to look up, his head heavy and lolling towards his chest.

"Ventis! Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

It's Onthyes, kneeling by Ventis and looking him over, holding his hands out as if ready for him to collapse fully.

"Fine," Ventis whispers, but it isn't convincing with how his voice slurs through it.

There's a thwip, and an arrow embeds itself in the tree just an arms length from Ventis's head. Onthyes crowds in closer to him and raises his shield.

"You're not fine. What happened?"

"Just tired," Ventis mutters, his eyes starting to drift closed. "Lemme rest for a sec."

"Not here." Onthyes looks around, then lowers his shield and scoops Ventis into his arms in one easy motion.

Ventis groans in protest. Everything spins when Onthyes stands. "Put me down," he whines.

"Sorry, sorry." Beads of sweat roll down the side of Onthyes's face. He must be hot too, in this weather and his full plate armor.

He breaks into a jog, stealing Ventis away from the sounds of the battle. "What about—"

"Shayah can handle it."

He puts Ventis down again, laying him on the grass in the shade of a rocky outcropping. The grass tickles the nape of his neck and his ankles.

Onthyes brushes Ventis's hair from his forehead and curses under his breath. He's burning up, skin hot and damp with sweat.

He fumbles for the waterskin at his hip with one hand, the other steadying Ventis's head. His grip is too tight, and he forces himself to ease it.

"You're okay," he says.

Onthyes splashes water onto his glove and presses it to Ventis's forehead, then his neck. Ventis cringes, a soft hiss slipping through his fanged teeth. Still conscious, but barely.

"Don't go to sleep," he murmurs, his voice low. He cradles the back of Ventis's head and tips some water between his lips. "C'mon, drink. That's it."

Ventis manages to swallow. His eyes slit open, unfocused.

"It's hot," he breathes.

"I know. I know." Onthyes glances up at the sky; not a single cloud, the sun beating down relentlessly. Even in his armor he's used to the heat, to being outside for so long. He'd forgotten that Ventis definitely isn't. "You pushed too hard. You should've backed out sooner."

Ventis scoffs weakly. "You need me."

Onthyes forces a smile, dripping some more water into Ventis's mouth. "We need you alive. No more of this."

Ventis just hums, lifting his head slightly to swallow and then letting it thump back down into Onthyes's hand.

Onthyes puts down his water and settles into the grass beside Ventis, reaching for his wrist to feel his pulse. It's weak and too fast, but still there.

"I've got you," he says quietly. "Just hang on."

⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

Ventisposting tags

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @purity-weeps

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@saffitaffi @ravenqueen21 @tomato-whump @whumped4whumplover

[kabie-whump]

YES THIS IS MY FAVORITE

and then when they can’t stay still and they have to be held/tied down mmmm good food

“this will hurt. i need you to stay as still as you can. you just need to get through this so the pain can end, okay?”

[kabie-whump]

this looks very fun to play with !!!

Make Our OCs Suffer Ask Game

You know the drill, send an emoji and oc, and I'll make it happen!

🏃- Make them run until they drop

🙌 - Stress position

💧- Waterboarding

🦴 - Break a bone; or maybe a few. (which ones? If you have a preference!)

🌑 - A nightmare

🐺 - An animal bite

⛈️ - Outside in a storm

🧵 - Sew their lips shut

🏆- Show them off

🤧 - A common ailment

🥵 - Heat exhaustion

🥶 - Caught in a blizzard

🌡️- A fever

⛽ - Douse them in something flammable and threaten them with a match

⬛ - Lock them in a dark room

😷 - A serious illness

👮 - Have them arrested

🎧 - Sensory overload

💉 - Drug them

☠️ - Poison them

😵 - Panic attack

🔥 - Burn or scald them.

🥱 - Sleep deprivation

⚡- Shock collar

⚰️- Bury them alive

💔 - Take away something they love

😣 - A painful shadow of their past

Creepy and intimate under the cut

💄- Doll them up

🌹- Romantic gifts

💕 - Cuddles in bed

👗- A special outfit

🎀 - Share them with friends

[kabie-whump]

✧･ﾟ Ripe, About to Fall - Part 18 ✧���ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series

First | Previous

Chapter Summary: Things get worse, and Onthyes learns a hard truth.

Chapter Content: drug addiction/withdrawal, some magic whump/loss of control, doomed to die, curses, mentions of pregnancy and death of a pregnant person, mentions of childhood drug use, victim blaming, Ventis is extremely depressed sorry, suicidal ideation

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Shayah's POV

Rain pattered against the windows, a soft, steady sound that filled the otherwise silent kitchen where Onthyes sat. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The air smelled faintly of damp earth and herbs. 

Shayah found Onthyes at the table, sitting motionless with his face buried in his hands. The mug of tea in front of him was untouched, no longer steaming. Onthyes stirred at her presence, lifting his head. His eyes were ringed with deep purples and reds, making the green of his irises seem to glow in the dim light. 

“How’s he doing?” Shayah asked, lowering herself into the chair across from him.

He drew a slow, unsteady breath. “Worse,” he murmured. “It’s… it’s really bad.”

Shayah hummed softly. She’d expected as much. 

Her own mother had used nightspill years ago, before she took too much and it snatched her away in the night. But before that, she’d tried to quit a handful of times, spurred by moments of clarity in which she realized that she had young sons to raise and a teenage daughter who was doing her damned best but crumbling under the pressure.

So Shayah knew better than most how brutal nightspill withdrawals could be.

“Onthyes…” She slid a little closer to the man, leaning over the table to place a hand on his arm. “Are you prepared for the possibility that he might not make it?”

His gaze snapped to meet hers. “What? No. He’ll be okay, Shy. He has to. He’s come too far-”

“I know. It’s not fair. But the gods don’t give a fuck about fairness, and nightspill withdrawal is nothing to be taken lightly.”

“He isn’t going to die. I won’t let him. We can’t just give up.” Onthyes’s voice was so firm. 

Shayah wished she could share his certainty. 

She’d come to like Ventis in the time since he’d arrived at her house, a too-thin bundle burned and bleeding and wrapped up in more diamonds than she’d seen in her entire life. He was odd, yes, and his bone-deep submissiveness was unsettling, but there was a quiet charm to him that she couldn’t ignore. Besides, he clearly mattered to Onthyes. To Theodore too, although he might never admit it out loud. 

“I never said anything about giving up on him,” she said softly. “I just… I don’t want to see you hurt again, Onthyes. After Samantha-”

She stopped herself as soon as the name left her mouth. 

Samantha was a subject that everyone in Onthyes’s life - including the man himself - avoided at all costs.

Shayah had been there in the guard barracks when Onthyes got the news of Samantha’s passing. Some complication with her pregnancy, apparently. Shayah and Onthyes hadn’t been very close yet, so she didn’t know the details. She just knew that he had lost both his betrothed and his future child that day, and he hadn’t been the same since.

“He’s going to live.” Onthyes stood abruptly, eyes hard. “I’m not losing another love. I can’t.”

Shayah just swallowed, unsure of what to say. She’d just wanted to prepare Onthyes for what could very well be inevitable, but he clearly couldn’t bear the thought. At least he still had hope. Shayah wasn’t sure if she could say the same for herself.

She followed him into Ventis’s bedroom.

With the curtains drawn, the room was lit only by a flickering lantern and a few candles. The air reeked of sickness, thinly masked by a warm coat of lavender. Even in the low light, Shayah could tell that the place had been destroyed - books and decorations flung across the floor, glass shattered and pages torn. A draft chilled her skin, although it had no discernable source. Shayah fetched the broom leaning against the wall and busied herself with sweeping glass shards into a pile.

Theodore stood near the foot of the bed, arms crossed. He’d insisted on watching Ventis for a few hours, just long enough for Onthyes to get some rest, although the man hadn’t taken proper advantage of the opportunity.

Ventis lay on the bed, no more than a shivering heap of blankets.

“This is the longest I’ve seen him sleep yet,” Onthyes muttered, carefully sitting down at the edge of the bed. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Right,” Shayah whispered, but a louder part of herself feared that it was only a sign that he’d become too exhausted to fight anymore.

“He woke once,” Theodore said, his voice low and flat. “He didn’t know where he was. Who I was. Passed out again soon after.”

Onthyes carefully pulled down the blankets, washing the room in a purple light that shifted and pulsed like little veins of lightning under Ventis’s skin. Sparks jumped at the points where Onthyes touched him, and his body jerked.

“His magic is calmer when he’s asleep.” Onthyes glanced up at Shayah, watching her scoop the glass shards into a tray to dispose of. “Sorry about the mess. I’d stopped trying to keep up with it. When he wakes up his magic just…” Onthyes made an explosion gesture with his hands.

“Trust me, I’ve heard it,” Shayah said with a chuckle. She’d lost count of how many times she’d been woken by magical winds battering her spare bedroom to pieces.

The room fell quiet again, save for the occasional crackle of candle flame and the quick, strained breaths from the bed. Shayah dumped the last of the glass into a bin and straightened, wiping her palms on her tunic. 

“He can’t go on like this,” she said.

Onthyes didn’t respond right away. He was watching Ventis with quiet desperation, his hand hovering over the boy’s arm, hesitant to touch as if even that small contact might be the final blow that makes him crumble. 

“We’re doing what we can,” Theodore said, settling at the end of the bed. “We’ve kept him alive this long.”

“Barely,” Shayah muttered. She didn’t mean to be cruel, but it was the truth. Every inhale from Ventis felt as though it could be his last, and every silence between each breath felt final.

Onthyes finally spoke. “He needs help. Real help.”

“From who?” Theodore’s voice was brittle. “A doctor? We’re wanted criminals, Onthyes.”

“A healer. He needs magic. Medicine alone won’t fix this. I know someone.”

It finally dawned on Shayah. “You’d risk going to your mother with this?”

“She’ll help us.”

Theodore scoffed. “But your mother lives with your father. Who is, if you’ve forgotten, the captain of the guard.”

“I know. But she won’t betray us.”

Shayah believed him, despite the risk. She’d never met Onthyes’s mother personally, but if she could raise someone as stubbornly heroic as him she must be trustworthy.

“Alright. I’ll go first thing in the morning,” Shayah volunteered.

“She’s an elf. You won’t be waking her. Besides, at this point Ventis might not have until morning.”

“I’ll go now, then.”

~

Ventis’s POV

Ventis just wanted it all to stop. The fire. The itching under his skin. The voices.

He was floating, falling, his limbs weightless and head clouded by vertigo. He missed feeling heavy, feeling grounded. The nightspill had been a weight on him, sinking him to the earth, keeping his treacherous body from drifting into the sky, and now he missed it more than anything because he couldn’t stand to fall for another minute.

But it wouldn’t stop. 

Before - hours or days ago, he couldn’t be sure - he’d been holding onto something. Something to make all this pain and confusion worth it. But now he couldn’t quite remember. Why was he even doing this if all it did was make him hurt?

A gentle touch pressed down on Ventis’s shoulder, too much and not enough at the same time. He longed to be held down again. To be under someone again. At least then he wouldn’t float away anymore. But the hands were too much. Always pushing too far, too hard. All of them but this one.

Swordsman’s calluses on the fingertips, brushing carefully along Ventis’s aching skin. Onthyes, right. He’d almost forgotten. He was doing this for Onthyes.

Ventis tried to lean into the touch, tried to say something, but all he could do was let out a pained whine.

“It’s okay,” Onthyes’s voice came from deep underwater, nearly incomprehensible. “Shayah’s getting help. Just hold on a little longer.”

“I can’t,” Ventis wanted to say, but his lips wouldn’t move. 

“You’re so cute when you’re helpless, treasure.”

Gods, not again.

Even here, hiding away in Shayah’s home, Athos had yet to leave Ventis for a moment of rest. The man’s voice was always present, his shadow always slinking in dark corners.

“You really think you can escape me?” his voice mused, echoing from every direction, pressing in on Ventis. 

Ventis whimpered, tried to curl into himself, but he just didnt have the energy and he knew the motion would be torture even if he did. “Stop,” he managed to gasp out, and Onthyes’s hand tightened slightly on his shoulder before disappearing. 

“You can run away as far as you’d like. You can hide yourself away for the rest of your pathetic little life. But you’ll always be mine. You know that, don’t you?”

The voice slithered through him, curling behind his ribs. He could feel it, a thread wrapped like a collar around his throat, pulling too tight and dragging him backwards, back to cold marble floors and perfumes that made his head pound. The touch of silk gloves, brushing along his jaw, sliding down his hip.

Ventis wanted to scream. What came out instead was a rattling breath that scraped its way uselessly out of his throat. His skin prickled with cold sweat. When he tried to open his eyes the room swam sickeningly. 

Then the fire in his blood flared to life again, burning poison in his veins, flooding his body. He didn’t want to be in it anymore. His body was a cage, a torture chamber more than anything else. He had forgotten what it felt like to be so present and to hurt so badly, and he didn’t want to live like this for any longer.

“He’s shaking.”

“Ventis? Come on, hold on a little longer. Please.”

“Onthyes, I don’t think-”

“You remember the price of disobedience, don’t you darling?”

Yes, of course he remembered. He remembered the whip, the branding iron, the times he’d been denied nightspill for just a few hours and it had felt like it would end him. Now he would give anything to feel like he had then. Anything would be better than this. 

“You chose this. You chose to run away from me, knowing perfectly well that your knight won’t take care of you like I do. And now you’re paying for it, aren’t you?”

Ventis let out a choked sob. That was the worst part, wasn’t it? Knowing that all of these years of suffering were his own fault. His own choice. 

The nightspill had just been for pain at first. He was called Jasper back then, sixteen and suffering from chronic pain due to a spine injury after taking a tumble off the palace roof. The royal physician had told him that the pain would never really go away, and she’d given him some pills to combat it. “Only take these when it’s unbearable,” she’d warned him. 

Jasper hadn’t listened. 

It just felt too good to be unburdened by pain, and he realized quickly that even the sting of his father’s and brother’s words was dulled by the drug. He became dependent quickly, and his physician seemed to have no problem getting him more when he ran out. Things were so much more peaceful around the palace without constant squabbling between brothers, after all.

It hadn’t taken long for him to want more. The nightspill took the pain away but it brought mind numbing apathy with it, and it drove Jasper to the docks, to the taverns, to that little shack on the beach where he’d drink until Peer dragged him home on wobbly legs. It went too far at one point. He couldn’t even remember what happened, just that he’d woken up in a cell with a black eye and his father standing on the other side of the bars, looking directly at him for the first time in a year with nothing but disdain.

“You are no longer part of this family,” he’d said. “Never come back.”

He wasn’t given time to pack. Just grabbed his jar of nightspill and a few loose coins and talked his way onto a merchant ship headed south to Nimbria. 

He changed his name from Jasper to Ventis, telling himself it was just because ‘Ventis’ sounded more standard for an air genasi - if he ever ran into another of his kind, he didn’t want to stand out. But that wasn’t the truth, not really.

He just… wasn’t Jasper anymore. Hadn’t been in a long time.

Because Jasper would have turned and run the moment he saw the way Athos looked at him. Because he wasn’t as stupid and naive as some made him out to be and Athos had made his intentions clear from the moment they met. Jasper would have saved himself in an instant.

But Ventis wasn’t worth saving.

He let Athos take him. He signed the contract of his own free will. He craved punishment, desperate for someone to steal him away and make everything just stop, and Athos had been right there ready to do just that. Ventis had brought this on himself. 

The next thing he knew, he was sobbing openly. Crying with what little energy he had left because he had never allowed it to surface - how deeply he hated himself. He’s always been the problem, even now, because he was forcing Onthyes and Theodore to stand there, helpless, while he selfishly succumbed to the consequences of his own actions after they gave everything to save him.

“Look at you,” Athos cooed. “I don’t think I’ve ever managed to get you this broken.”

Shut up shut up shut up shut up.

Ventis’s thoughts couldn’t find purchase in his own head. There was nothing left but agony. His muscles convulsed weakly, his jaw clenching so hard he was afraid something would snap. But the pain wasn't even the worst part anymore. It was how familiar the pain was, like some twisted part of him had always known this was how he would end: sick and hallucinating while the people who tried to love him stood helpless at his side.

He was so tired of hurting people just by existing.

But surely it would hurt someone if he died, too. Onthyes had tried so hard to save him.

But he just wasn’t worth it.

“I’m sorry,” Ventis managed to whimper. “Onthyes… I’m so sorry.”

A hand gripped his, shaking. “No no no no, you’re okay, Ventis. Just hold on. Help’s coming, I promise. Just stay with me.” 

Ventis tried to squeeze the hand back. He couldn’t tell if he succeeded. He just knew that darkness was rushing in, and his limbs were freezing cold, and every breath was a monumental struggle.

He wasn’t afraid of dying.

He was afraid that if he didnt die, this would go on forever.

He was afraid that surviving this would mean facing the world all over again - the shame, the conditioning, the look on Onthyes’s face every time he wasn’t strong enough to overcome it all.

He couldn’t fight any longer.

Then a voice cut through Ventis’s haze, soft and unfamiliar.

“Faenya. Stay.”

The words hit him like a splash of cold water. Elvish.

He didn’t know that voice, and yet something ancient stirred in it. A hand touched his chest, over his heart. His magic flared to life, angry and scared, but the hand didn’t pull away. It held strong, pushing down just enough to steady him. And just like that, for just a moment, Ventis felt heavy again. Present.

“Revar.”

And everything slipped away.

~

Onthyes’s POV

“He’s asleep now.” Onthyes’s mother, Sylviavaris, lifted her hand from Ventis’s chest, the golden glow fading from her palm. “It’s a good thing that you sent for me when you did. He was fading.”

“Will he be okay now?” Onthyes asked, anxious for any good news at all.

She turned to him, a slight smile touching her lips, and reached out to cup her palm against Onthyes’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re alright, my son. Although, I’d hoped you had the sense to leave this place for good. It’s not safe here for you. Any of you.” She glanced over at Shayah and Theodore, who were lingering on the edges of the bedroom, wanting to give her space to work but also ready to help if need be. 

“Trust me, as soon as Ventis can stand on his own we’re crossing the sea,” Onthyes assured her. “But right now I just need to know he can survive this.”

Sylviavaris glanced down at Ventis’s sleeping form. He was quiet now, his face wet with leftover tears, and relentless shaking had stopped. He still couldn’t quite be called peaceful, but he was something close to that.

“I gave him more time,” she said. “But I’m afraid I may have just delayed the inevitable.”

“What are you saying?” Theodore crossed his arms, tilting his chin up in a way that may have seemed tough to anyone else, but Onthyes could see the glint of fear in his eyes. “He’s just going to die no matter what? What good is healing magic if it won’t heal him?”

“Theo.” Shayah bumped him with her elbow. “Lay off.”

“No, it’s okay. He’s right to be concerned. If this were just any sickness I should be able to heal it easily. Withdrawal is tricky, but… Well, I don’t mean to be vain but I am quite powerful. I still should have at least eased his symptoms long enough for him to ride it out on his own. But I could feel a resistance. Something is keeping my light from reaching him.”

“Why?” Onthyes asked. He was painfully reminded of the time Ventis was poisoned, and just like now every doctor and healer said the same thing: that he was beyond help. He felt that same helplessness all over again. “There must be something, mom.” Tears stung at his eyes and he quickly scrubbed them away with his sleeve. “I’m not… I won’t lose him. I can’t.”

Sylviavaris considered him for a long moment, her green eyes widening slightly with realization. 

“You love him.”

Onthyes nodded miserably.

A flash of grief crossed her face and she rushed forward, pulling her son into her arms. Onthyes has been taller than her since he was a teenager but her hugs made him feel small again, and he bent down to tuck his face into her shoulder. 

“I am so sorry,” she whispered into his hair. “My son, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid… I can’t save him. If you truly love him, then there’s nothing I can do.”

Onthyes pulled away, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She glanced at the others. “Maybe we should speak about this privately.”

“Tell me.”

Letting out a deep sign, Sylviavaris sat at the foot of the bed. “It was your father’s doing.”

As always.

“I was pregnant with you. And he… he’s always had high expectations for you. Even before you were born. He was willing to do anything to guarantee that you would live up to his standards. So he went to a hag.”

Theodore and Shayah both cursed at the same time. Onthyes was too stunned to do anything but stand there and listen as his mother pressed on.

“I told him it was a bad idea. I warned him that hags are not to be played around with. But to him, no price was too great. He bartered with the hag. She rewrote fate so that you would be destined to become the greatest swordsman in the realms. In return, she claimed the souls of everyone you fall in love with. If you love someone, they are fated to die a painful, premature death.”

She reached out, taking Onthyes’s hand. “I’m sorry, Onthyes, but he’s doomed.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

sorry for the wait on this one yall i have no excuse other than i had a minecraft phase <3

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-whumpstuff @morning-star-whump @purity-weeps

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @lindsay00000008 @rainydaywhump @scoundrelwithboba @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@saffitaffi @ravenqueen21 @tomato-whump @whumped4whumplover

[kabie-whump]

the next chapter of ratf has been so close to finished for months now someone tell me to lock tf in

[kabie-whump]

Sea whump prompts

Royal/aristocrat Whumpee held for ransom at sea by pirate Whumper(s)

Seasickness (bonus points if Whumpee is the one leading/sailing the ship)

Whumpee washing up on a shore after a shipwreck, unable to recall what happened to them (are they found by Caretaker or Whumper?)

Mermaid whumpee being taken from the sea to be kept in an exhibit/zoo

Whumpee being shipped across sea to a new Whumper (kept in a box? Tied up under deck?)

Caretaker trying to keep a sick/injured Whumpee going while stranded at sea without supplies

Whumpee only having seawater available to drink

Whumpee with a phobia of water forced to travel across the sea to escape Whumper

[kabie-whump]

so, what if she finds him hiding in the hayloft and he’s horrifically injured (and also poisoned) and she has to heal him, but she’s not super great at it yet and it’s excruciating for him and he has to be quiet because if anyone else finds him he’ll be taken back to the people who tortured him and want him to be a weapon of mass destruction for them and he’s really scared and just wants to be free and he also thinks she’s really pretty but tries to hide it bc it confuses him and she feels like he’s a lost cat she needs to nurse back to health. what then?

[kabie-whump]

Don't you just love it when the team get captured and it's revealed that Whumpee has met Whumper before.

The twisted delight in Whumper's voice when they say "Oh, has Whumpee never mentioned me?"

The shame burning in Whumpee's face as Whumper recounts the fun they used to have together.

The confusion, disbelief, and horror on the teams' faces as the truth unfolds.

[kabie-whump]

A superpowered character losing control of their powers and having to be restrained or sedated for their own safety. Is this anything