#universe belongs to wildfaewhump

[endless-whump]

The Mistake

This universe belongs to the wonderful @wildfaewhump , who has let me create an oc within the world. There aren’t enough words to describe how thankful and excited I am to write within this universe, and I hope I can do justice to this amazing setting. <3

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Soft brown feathers ruffle in the breeze as Kefi sat, looking down at the village.  He was weary from the journey, ready to get some supplies and maybe even a place to stay.

He was sitting amongst a cluster of flowers, legs and wings tired as he stretched them out, feeling the soft grass below him.  It was early summer, the forest filled with greenery that made Kefi’s heart soar with delight.  It made the journey so much more pleasant, the warmth and lush woodland much preferred to the wind and snow he dreaded flying in.

Kefi stood, stretching his wings contently as he made his way down the hill, soft grass and moss underneath his feet as he walked.  He pushed his dark hair out of his face, the shoulder length just enough to get in the way sometimes for the young fae.  

He passed modest houses as he walked into town, looking around with curiosity as the setting become more inhabited with people and he grew closer to the center.  He wondered if they had many inns here, and made note to ask for directions to one.

He walked softly, barefoot through the marketplace, looking around in amazement at all the booths and noting the wonderful smells filling the air.  He didn't notice the dark stares he got, people muttering to each other, the way people either moved away from him or intentionally shoved past him, giddy with curiosity as he looked at a table with herbs.  The old woman there was relatively friendly if not nervous looking, opting to let him look but simply not speak to him.

As he picked up a bundle of lavender he noticed a little girl who couldn't have been more than eight, staring at him with curiosity and a hint of fear.  She was peeking at him with wide, green eyes from around a crate, skirts billowing softly from the light breeze.

He smiled, reaching into the satchel he carried and digging around in it for a moment before bringing out one of the lillies he’d picked at the edge of town.  She continued watching him as he turned to her, trying to look friendly.

“Hello little one,”

Kefi knelt down, smiling and offering the flower to the child.  She looked at him curiously, hesitantly taking the flower.  

The gesture turned more than a few heads, and Kefi barely noticed as some people in the crown pointed at him, muttering to each other before disappearing.

“Are you a bird?” She asked, continually glancing at his wings.  He laughed, slowly bringing his wing forward so the child could see the brown and tan dappled feathers better.

“No, small one.  I am a star child like you, just different.”

The little girl reached out and touched his wing with glistening eyes, curiosity taking over any sort of hesitance she previously had.  She ran her fingers along the vanes of his feathers, face blooming into a wondrous smile at how soft they were.

“You look like an owl,” The girl chuckled, petting his wing.  

“Do I?” Kefi mused.  “I fly like one.”

The girl looked up in amazement, but before she could say anything there was a shout.

“Get the hell away from her!” A woman came and scooped up the child, and before Kefi could register what was happening there was a man in his face, forcing him back.

“You think you can just come in here and thrall a child?” The man spat.  “That flower you gave her, what sort of contract did you put her under?”

Kefi didn’t know what to say, staring, stunned, at the man.  The entire environment had shifted, the marketplace that was once relatively busy now quiet, eyes turning their attention to the screaming parent.

“Answer me demon, before I make you pay more than I already plan.” He shoved Kefi, who stumbled and fell against the rough cobblestone.  

“I, I didn't-” he was cut off when a boot met his side, a cry of pain escaping him.  At this point there were others who seemed to get a grasp on what was going on, the air seeming to shift dangerously.  

Kefi didn't understand why these people were yelling, why they were starting to grab him.  Nobody stopped the growing group of men from dragging Kefi backwards, harsh hands pulling at him arms and tearing at his wings.  It felt like there a a mob surrounding him, shoving him down as the kicking started. 

Kefi tried to protect his head from the blows, strangled cries tearing from him as they relentlessly beat him.  A boot to his side, then smashing down on his wing, then coming down on the back of his head.  He didn't dare use his voice, there were nice people,,the old lady,,the little girl,,he couldn't.

He was left defenseless as he heard a hollow crunch, wailing as white, hot agony washed over him.  

“N,No, please! Pl-” He screamed desperately, but this just seemed to anger the mob more.  His wings were pinned awkwardly underneath him as he was dragged across the cobblestone, and his vision swam with colors and shapes and leering faces.  

He tried clawing at one of the arms holding him but froze when he felt cold, burning metal of a knife pressed to his neck.

“Don’t move, or else we’ll let you bleed our right here instead of kicking you out. You should be grateful, you should-“

A desperate kick, a yell,

“I said to hold him, Gabriel,” the man hissed, gripping a handful of Kefi’s hair and yanking his head back. Kefi yelped, eyes widening when he saw another knife brought brought behind him and out of his sight, heart sinking when they sawed the knife through the hair they gripped tightly.

No,nonono, why, why were they doing this?  Kefi couldn't understand, mind blank with terror and pain as he mindlessly tried to get away.

“This will teach you not to mess with our towns. You can’t expect us to let you work your demon magic on innocent people and get away with it.”

His vision was blurred with tears as they shoved him to the ground, his cut hair laying on the ground beside him. Through his tears he could see the crumpled lilly dropped in front of him, the heel of a boot stomping on it and twisting it into the ground.

He could smell his blood, taste it even.  Even the smallest movement sent pain spiking through his wing, and he knew something was wrong.  Something had to be wrong with how it dragged on the ground, feathers torn and bone twisted, wet with blood. 

 He tried to drag himself away, shaking like a leaf as he weakly pushed himself up, trying to get his arms underneath him and some form of balance.  His vision kept fading in and out, and he registered that he was outside town, grass and rocks underneath him instead of the paved streets from before.

He could still hear the voices of the men, but the grabbing, pulling hands were gone, and the voices were soon fading.

Kefi choked on a sob, his whole body feeling like it was on fire as he tried to drag himself forward.  His previously soft, brown wings were dragging limply behind him, twisted awkwardly and caked with silver blood.  He collapsed, trying desperately to breathe as it felt like his chest was being crushed, the painful pressure too much to handle.

It was chilly now, the wind no longer soft and pleasant but biting and harsh.  All Kefi could feel was dark and cold and pain and fear, and most of all confusion.  He couldn't understand why they were so,,so mad.  Did he hurt the girl?  Was there some sort of cultural line he crossed?

He looked miserably at the crushed flower on the ground, arms giving out on him.  He weakly lifted his head to try and look at the stars, the night feeling blank and harsh and dangerous, lacking its usual beauty and comfort and strength Kefi could usually draw from it.

His thoughts were disconnected, clouded by pain and grief as he drifted, head falling back to the grass as breathing became harder, mind blurred by the aching pain spiking through his body.  His eyes fluttered shut as he fought to stay awake, vaguely registering a soft hand on his shoulder, a concerned voice sounding beside him as everything drifted to black.

----

Kefi could smell lavender and wood and a hint of something musty, the aroma calming.  Everything felt fuzzy, and he could feel warm blankets wrapped around him and his wings tucked close.  He burrowed further into the covers, the sharp, agonizing pain from before now just a dull ache.  He felt safe, a welcome contract to,,to,,

Kefi sat up abruptly, eyes wide as he looked around at his surroundings.  He looked around wildly, finding himself in a small, homey looking cottage.  He was laying on a large bed, blankets and pillows piled around him and bandages wrapped around his torso and part of his wing.

Herbs were hanging along the ceiling, morning sunlight pouring in through the windows and illuminating the home.  Endless bottles and books were sitting on shelves lining the walls, chairs and a fireplace arranged by one wall and a small kitchen tucked against another.

It was then that Kefi noticed the human woman standing in the kitchen, her back to the fae.  He jumped, scrambling backwards with a whimper despite the pain it caused.  The woman turned, surprised.  She was tall and muscular, with tan skin and dark hair.  Kefi noted the prominent freckles on her face and shoulders, trying to determine if she looked friendly.

“Oh-” She put her hands up.  “I didn’t know you were awake.  Please don’t freak out, you're safe, I promise.”

Kefi stayed still, watching her warily for a moment before obeying.  He tucked his wings around himself protectively, shaking and glancing from her to the oak door on the other side of the wall.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.  I found you pretty messed up outside town, brought you to my house,” She explained, voice soothing.  The pain was becoming more sharp now that Kefi was awake, and he stifled a whimper of pain at any movement.  

“You took some pretty bad hits,,, I need you to stop moving around, ok?”  She approached cautiously, hands still up to show him she didn’t mean any harm.  Her movements were smooth and controlled, and she had a gentle, trustworthy air about her.  

Kefi nodded, obeying and adjusting one of the blankets wrapped around him.  He reached up to fidget with a strand of his hair when he froze.  Where the long hair usually hung around his shoulders there was,,nothing.  He reached further up to run his hands through it, finding it sloppily cropped short.  Tears formed in his eyes at the realization, and the woman seemed to notice his distress.

“Hey, you ok?  It’ll grow back-” He shook his head, the tears falling down his face.  It would, but it was gone, and it would take so long,,,

“Was it important to you?” She asked carefully, face falling when he nodded.  “I’m,,I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know.”  She sat down next to him, giving a reassuring, if not nervous smile.

He dropped his hand, tears falling down his face.  It was hard to breathe, ribs feeling tight and head dizzy and everything was just so wrong.

“Hey, hey, it's ok,” the woman tried to reassure, looking anxious as she tried to comfort the distraught fae.  Kefi tried to relax, curling in on himself slightly to try and feel grounded, to feel safe.

She handed him a mug of tea from the table beside them which he took with shaky hands, wanting to apologize when he got anxious from even that simple proximity.

“I’m Metilia,” she said kindly, leaning back in her chair.  She tilted her head, as if she expected an answer, but wasn't demanding one.

“I,,I’m Kefi,” The fae replied nervously.  “Thank you,”

“What did those guys want?” She asked, and Kefi tensed slightly, the pads of his fingers tapping silently against the rim of the mug.  She seemed to notice this, raising her hand as if to wave off the question.  “You don't have to tell me, I probably shouldn't be asking questions when you should be resting anyways.”

“There,,,there was a child,” he answered anyways, refusing to meet the woman’s eyes. “People got mad,,I swear I wasn’t thralling her, I,,I wasn’t trying to do anything,”

Metilia frowned, looking at him with,,pity? She didn’t look angry or hostile like Kefi expected her to. Everything was so confusing now, he hated this feeling, expecting aggression from somebody he barely knew.

“I believe you,” she said softly, tilting her head. “I promise your safe here, there aren’t many hunters in these parts, and we’re pretty secluded in this patch of the forest.”

She shifted closer, holding her hands out.

“Can I look at your wing? It got banged up pretty bad, and there was a break somewhere in the joint.”

Kefi nodded, gingerly bringing the bandaged wing foreword to let her inspect it. They weren’t coated in blood anymore, feathers once again soft, if not a little ruffled and unorderly. There were a few torn that Kefi winced at the sight of, but he couldn’t help but be relieved they didn’t do much damage, the loss of his hair already a crushing damage of fae symbolization.

He whimpered in pain as she touched the injured spot, forcing himself to stay still as Metilia looked at it gently, concern written in the lines of her face.

“It’ll heal,” she said softly, running her fingers through the feathers comfortingly. “It’ll take time, but it will heal, I promise you that.”

Kefi tried to keep himself from getting anxious. He didn’t like the idea of being grounded, forced to stay away from the sky and the stars that were so important to them. He was already lonely, having been traveling without seeing almost any fae for what felt like forever.

The woman seemed confident that it wouldn’t be an issue and that he would heal soon though, and her demeanor soothed his anxieties. The fear from before had dissolved, and Kefi started to relax as she inspected his other injuries, even leaning into the touch.

“I’m gonna go get a few things from town, will you be ok here?” She asked gently. “I’m hesitant to leave you by yourself, but I need some more salve for your wing.”

Kefi nodded. “I’ll,,I’ll be ok.” He reassured. She smiled, taking his empty mug and setting it aside.

“Get some rest, ok? You're gonna be ok, but it was still a nasty beating those guys gave you.” Metilia stood, grabbing her bag and heading for the door. “It’s nice to meet you, Kefi.”  She smiled warmly at him before stepping out, closing the door and leaving Kefi alone.

He kept observing his surroundings carefully, relaxing back on the bed and hugging the soft blanket he was given tighter. Every breath sent a small spike of pain through his chest, bruises covering his torso and an uncomfortable fogginess to his head.

He was in pain, and still on edge, but he recognized that this stranger was friendly, and meant no harm.

For now, he could relax

For now, he was safe.

[comfy-whumpee]

Clare

Northlight demanded that I write this piece for April. @iaminamoodymoodtoday, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @paingeneering, @whumpywhumper

Cool spring breeze flows through an open paved plaza in the middle of a university. It’s the kind of place where people assume you are just in the middle of a difficult study period if you sit in the middle of the grass in an old coat and eat pasta with your fingers. A good spot for Northlight, without many curious eyes, especially with the book they are pretending to read in front of them.

The pasta is cold but well made, with the strange uniform flavour that food of this time often has, bland cheese and weak herbs with chunks tomato poorly integrated into the too-smooth sauce. It is quick to eat, though, and goes down easy with the paper cup of water they’ve taken from the library along with the book.

As they look out over the rest of the clearing between buildings, they notice someone else sitting on a bench. They look young, with a halo of Afro hair and their nose deep in an electronic device of some kind.

They’re swaying. Back and forth on their bench, a slight motion like reeds in a summer breeze. Like a bobbing leaf on the river of time.

Northlight licks their fingers and gets up, leaving the tub and their water on the grass. They cross the flat stones of the plaza and sit down on the fake-wood bench.

“Why are you swaying, stranger?” they ask, when the student glances their way.

The stranger has dark eyes and a shy smile. They fix their gaze on Northlight’s brow. Their voice is like old paper against fingertips. “Because it feels nice.”

Northlight feels themself tipping to the side, a longer swing than the stranger’s, like a pendulum catching itself before it touches the sides of the clock. They can’t help it. Just talking about the motion makes their stillness feel cold and heavy.

A spark lights in the stranger’s eyes as they tracked the motion. Their smile pulls into itself, but Northlight recognises it as a happy motion. “I saw you doing it on the grass.”

They nod. They try not to look too hopeful. “It feels like the world moves with a current and I have to move with it,” they offer tentatively.

Their heart sinks as they see a lack of understanding deep in the stranger’s eyes. “That’s a pretty way to put it,” they offer politely. “Oh, um, my name’s Clare.”

They hesitate. Then they smile and nod. “I’m Aurora.”

“Nice to meet you. I haven’t seen you at the Network.”

Of course, they think Northlight is a student here. They plead ignorance. “The Network?”

“You know, for autism? It’s part of the DSN.”

Northlight blinks, mind searching for connections and finding none. “Or-tism?”

The stranger blinks back, though they’re looking out over the plaza. “You don’t know what it is?”

Northlight shakes their head, finding a ragged end of their hair and tugging it nervously. Have they given themself away as someone who doesn’t belong?

“It’s like… You know stimming. Swaying, I like that one too, and I um, I have,” suddenly Clare digs into their pocket and pulls out a strange, marshmallow-looking thing shaped like a spherical frog. “A squishy.” They pinch it between finger and thumb, and the frog distends. “Helps with, makes me feel less stressed.” They reach into another pocket in their jacket. “And this, this is my favourite, it’s for happy um, happy feelings. You can shake it and it froths up like this, and it looks pretty and makes a good sound and then you can listen to the bubbles pop.”

They shake the little jar and Northlight watches with wide eyes as a galaxy of glitter swirls around and disappears into thin white bubbles.

Clare has treasures. They reach into their inner pocket and take out Patience Penrose’s hair tie, winding it around a finger to feel the pressure, letting the stranger see.

“That’s cool,” Clare enthuses. “I had one when I was younger that was like a cat’s cradle, I would use it all day while watching things and it kept my hands busy, otherwise I’d click my pen nonstop. But I have a clicky thing now, I don’t really use it because I have my frog. Do you like clicky things? Here, it’s, um, oh here it is.”

They produce a small, round toy with a smaller circle in the middle. Northlight takes it and presses it down with a thumb, and it depresses with a silent but tangible snap.

They lift their thumb and it lifts too. They press down again.

“Keep – keep it,” Clare says. “I like asking about synaesthesia, do you – do you have that? Like when all the words have colours, or something else where you can see things or feel things that other people can’t…”

“Voices have feelings,” Northlight says. They know this one. “Nobody else can tell but they do.” They pause, then add, “Yours feels like paper. It’s nice.”

Clare’s mouth twist-smiles again. “Yeah, like that. I don’t know, um, if you are autistic, but I like talking about it, if you…if you want to hear more?”

A story offered is a rare and precious gift. Northlight tucks their new treasure into their pocket. “Yes, please.”

Clare isn’t a time traveller, but maybe... Maybe they have found someone like them after all.

[sola-whumping]

Hello! I’m called Nightshade and I go by they/it. Here’s my introduction and a bit about me!

~I use my own characters! Everything I write will be original (belonging to me and @poisoned-by-royalty since we work together) You will see some ideas and characters more than others (because we do have favorites).

~I’m making this blog to create a space for myself dedicated to whump, to interact with other whump blogs, and to share my ideas!

~A lot of my scenes are centered around my characters, so you’ll see a lot of emotional whump, medical whump, whipping, conditioning, original poisons, original drugs, original species, quite a bit of drowning, character revival, temperature extremes, multiverse theory (There is an original universe in there somewhere (it’s the solaverse) but I’ve done so many spin-offs that I don’t want to neglect)

~a few of my favorites are (tagging because I was told to) @whumpster-dumpster @whumpiestofthemall @heartlesslywhumping @wildfaewhump @ashintheairlikesnow @allthewhumpygoodness @faewhump @justwhumpythings @the-modern-typewriter @whump-tr0pes @whumpdaydreamerx @whumping-every-day @gingerly-writing @pretty-face-breaker @friendlylocalwhumper I could name so many more but I thought I should keep it small

I can’t wait to start posting and interacting with everyone!

[whumping-every-day]

I don’t know if you’ve answered this before, so I thought I’d ask myself to be sure. That post about storming the agency gave me an idea for a fic, so I was wondering how you feel about people writing stories within your Pathverse (with credit to you, of course!)

It seems that you have me confused with Vic at @wildfaewhump, my friend! The Path-verse belongs to them, not me :) although I know they have answered this before, and I believe that the answer is yes, as long as you tag them/credit the original universe. I know I would love to read whatever you end up writing! 

[endless-whump]

Moodboard for my new OC, Kefi! He’s a friendly, curious little guy, which gets him in a lot of trouble 🌱

[endless-whump]

Kefi woke to screams

Fear clutched at them, tearing like knives against their skin, panic taking hold of every crevice of their mind as the instinct to flee sent them scrambling.  They could smell fire, feel the burns across their back and wings as if they were fresh, hands holding and pinning them until they were sure they were being suffocated.  

The pain never ended, nor did the fear it left in its wake.

“-Kefi!”

It took a delayed moment to register the clear, familiar voice above them.  The realization followed quickly after that the screams they were hearing were their own.  Something like embarrassment rose in their chest, but stronger was the pull to comfort.

Brown wings fluttered frantically as Kefi flung themselves into Metilia’s arms, chest tight with the inability to breathe.  Warm hands rested as an anchor against their back, the vibrations of her voice felt but not heard as the fae buried their face against her chest.

“-fi, listen to me.”

A hand gripped their chin gently, forcing their head up.  Wide, yellow eyes met calm brown, stern enough to hold their attention.

“Take a breath, just start with one, there you go.  Now another, just one more.”

Kefi forced themself to obey, choking with the effort.  One after another, their head feeling light from the lack of air, but it started to get easier after a while.  Their chin was slowly lowered until they were allowed to lean against her again, knees pulling to their chest as blankets were pulled tighter around them.  There was a loud snap, a log in the fire, probably, but it was enough to make the fae flinch.

“You’re ok, just a dream.”  Back and forth, Metilia’s fingers ran gently along the spines of still healing feathers, growing back in fuzzy patches even amongst the damaged skin.  It was a surprise they grew back at all, one they were both grateful for.  The sensation was soothing, almost forcefully so.  Kefi didn’t seem to mind one bit.

“S,Safe? Not there?”

“Not there,” Metilia confirmed gently.  “Not anymore, and never again.”

[endless-whump]

@whumptober2021 Day 23: Ransom/Auction

Whumtpober Masterlist

OC: Kefi

Tags: dehumanization, use of the pronoun it, fae whump, wing whump, talk of abandonment, muzzles

Universe belongs to @wildfaewhump <3

---

“Anybody back home willing to pay a pretty penny for you, demon?”

A kick to their side made Kefi lurch, keening pitifully as they curled to protect their stomach from the blow.  They could taste blood, feel it trickling down their wings and wrists and ankles with every movement that made iron dig further into vulnerable skin.  Every limb felt weighed down by it, by the days of cold and hunger and ache that filled them to the brim without even a breath to recover from it.  

“You’re a pack animal, disgusting as you lot are.  So where are they, hm? Your flock abandon you?”

Another sharp kick told them the man wasn’t actually expecting an answer, voice dripping with mockery.  It was humiliating, even more so than how low they were forced to the ground, like some specimen to be prodded at for a reaction.

Kefi bit their lip, drawing blood that dripped down to join the rest from the harsh bite of metal and leather against their skin, muzzle still locked tight around their head.  They couldn’t answer even if they wanted to, whimpering in pain like an animal under some cruel owner's heel.  

“Probably a runt, with how little it is.  Left in the woods to die, is that what happened?  What’d ya do to deserve that?”

The scream that left their throat when a boot slammed down on their shackled wing echoed in their own ears with enough force to make them ring, jaw locking in pain as they thrashed with the muzzle on.  Memories of blood soaked talons choked them, old horror drenching their body like a bucket of ice water that left them with chills that would never subside.  Runt and useless and disgrace floated like ghosts in their mind, occupying every inch of space with no room to breathe.  

“You’ll go for a good price in the market if nothing else, or at least parts of you will.”

Kefi shuddered, swallowing back their horror at the statement.  Nobody was coming for them, certainly not their kin.  Trying to picture their faces, their voices, their touch was only painful, because what came with it was the hurt and the cold left in the wake of abandonment they’d never recover from.  Abandonment that was soaked in the same blood that was on their own hands.  They were cast out, and rightfully so, left to be ravaged by the natures of man in constant punishment for their actions within their court.  

No, their kin probably didn’t even think about Kefi anymore.  Not after what they did.

[endless-whump]

Emory’s Writing Masterpost

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Milo/Nick: Journey to Create a Home

Themes of abusive family unclosing physical abuse, brief themes of sexual assault, conditioning heavy themes of self deprecation, captivity, mostly focused on recovery but is still heavy on the angst

---

Simon/Oliver: We’re Ok

Box boy universe (bbu), themes of sexual assault, extreme conditioning, heavy on both angst and recovery, some themes of depression and mental illness, some heavy themes of suicide (chapters are labeled and can be skipped), heavy violence, temporary character death

---

Kefi

Captivity, fantasy racism, wing whump, fantasy setting, abandonment, found family centric

(universe belongs to @wildfaewhump )

---

Marcus/Luca: A Means to an End

Box boy universe (bbu), family abuse, abuse of a minor (brief in overall story), on the run, found family centric, pet whump

---

Mia/Marie: It Was Always You

Box boy universe (bbu), heavy conditioning, lady whumpee, rescue, is going to be heavily centered on recovery and these two falling in love

---

Damien

Heavy on family abuse including and especially physical, medical abuse, underage whumpee (17), violence, homelessness

(This series is currently discontinued/on hiatus with no current plans on continuing)

---

Whumptober 2019

Whumptober 2020

[endless-whump]

Just a Fledgeling

@whumptober2021 Day 6: bruises | touch starved | hunger

Whumptober Masterpost

Kefi Masterpost

Universe belongs to @wildfaewhump ! <3

Takes place shortly after returning home from Ronan

---

Kefi wanted nothing more than to settle back down with Metilia and forget the whole misadventure ever happened.  Their wings, while still sore and scarred, were starting to grow feathers again and they’d worked up the courage to start making trips into town again, though not unaccompanied.  Everything was fine, they were fine, and so they couldn’t figure out why they were having so many issues.

It had started with the sleep, their nest on the living room floor too cold even when they had the crackling fireplace loaded with wood to ward off the early autumn chill.  Kefi felt hollow, staring at the flames for hours, claws that had been bitten short in anxiety fidgeting with their few undamaged feathers.  They stared at the flames until the sun started to come up, finally lulled to sleep at the sound of Metilia roaming the house and doing chores.  She never bothered them, not even when Kefi slept the day away only to face the same dilemma as the sun disappeared from the horizon.  It went on like this for days, the pattern only broken when Kefi accompanied her into town for groceries or she insisted they get fresh air in the garden.  

Metilia was so, so gentle with them, but also distant.  She coaxed them out of nightmares only to return to her own bed, making Kefi miss the days when she’d crawl under the blankets with them and trace circles through their hair until they fell back asleep.  They missed sitting shoulder to shoulder with bowls of soup by the fire, a book open between them that Metilia read out loud and explained the symbols of.  Now she sat across from them, always.  She bought new books at the marketplace to leave with Kefi but never offered to read to them.

Kefi recognized that Metilia was trying to give them space.  That she thought they needed quiet and time alone to process and heal.  They hated it.  It was excruciating.  

They couldn’t take it any longer when a thunderstorm rolled through one night, keeping Kefi awake with each flash of light and boom that seemed to shake the house.  They trembled, picking nervously at their feathers but it wasn’t enough, not to keep away the crawling feeling underneath their skin.  Their wings were ruffled and unkempt; Kefi had tried to groom them themself but it didn’t feel right, and they gave up trying altogether.  Now they just picked and fidgeted until the feathers started to fall with a wince and a break of cartilage, but they didn’t care.  The feeling was scarily similar to in the cages, when they’d pull feathers with the violence of a whirlwind just to get rid of the feeling of cruel touches and painful emptiness that filled them to their brim.

“Stop that, Kefi.”

The chide was gentle, but it made them flinch anyways when Metilia’s voice broke them from their thoughts.  She approached carrying two mugs, crouching down to Kefi’s level to hand them theirs.  The fae smiled, accepting it gratefully.  They opened their mouth to say thank you when she stood, already intending to leave.  It sent a chill through them.  

Before they knew what they were doing Kefi snagged her sleeve with a shaking finger, stopping her abruptly.

“Kefi?”

For a moment they couldn’t seem to speak.  They were afraid to ask for what they didn’t feel they deserved, yet craved so much.

“Please don’t leave,” Kefi whispered, voice trembling. “Never stay with me anymore, Metilia.”

Something broke in her expression. She nodded tightly, waiting for them to make room in the makeshift nest before sinking down next to them. It was too late to back out now, and something loosened in Kefi’s chest as they let it all out.

“You…you don’t touch, anymore, or nest with me, and lonely, it is, and wings hurt and I- I can’t reach groom them right and wrong, they still are and can’t fix it I can’t.” Kefi shook their head, avoiding Metilia’s sharp gaze. “Cannot fix any of it.”

They buried themself in their mug, drinking down the hot tea even as it burned, trying to drown the shame with pain. They didn’t want to sound like they were criticizing how Metilia was trying to help them, but they couldn’t do it anymore. Another flash of lightning made them flinch backwards, bandaged wings drawn around them.

“Kefi,” Metilia took the mug from their hands, clasping them between her own. They were warm and calloused from work, thumbs brushing softly against Kefi’s wrist.  “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me sooner…”

Still not meeting her eyes, Kefi leaned forward until they were leaning against her chest, arms wrapping around her securely. A low purr rumbled from the back of their throat, limbs going boneless against the pressure of the hug.

“I thought you’d want space,” she whispered, kissing the top of their head. “After what happened…especially to your wings…I assumed.”

Kefi could only trill sleepily when she started carding through their feathers, careful of the scars and bandages that still ached with movement.  The pair settled back in the nest of blankets, the fae content to drape themself over Metilia, wings spread out comfortably under the attention.  It reminded them of how they used to nest with their mother, singing lullabies while she groomed every feather with the utmost care.  They missed her.

“You haven’t been sleeping well.”

It was a statement, not a question.

“Didn’t like feeling alone. Don’t do well alone.” Kefi murmured, snuggling contently against Metilia’s chest, the heat of the fireplace against their side.  “Not safe.”

“Are you old enough to be alone where you come from, Kefi?”

It was a question Kefi was surprised she hadn’t asked before.  They managed to shake their head, burrowing closer against Metilia’s shoulder.  “No,”  they admitted softly.  “Supposed to have a cùraim until of age, teach us how to hunt and not be hunted.”

“Just a fledgeling then, hm?”

“I suppose.”

The crawling under their skin dissipated with each gentle touch, wings stretching lazily over the expanse of blankets to soak in the firelight.  They wanted to sleep, but this was the most direct attention they’d received in weeks.

“When I’ve been hurt, before, I didn’t want anyone to so much as look at me for ages.  People trying to take care of me...it felt suffocating, and I just wanted time to myself before going back to normal.”  Metilia’s voice was whisper-soft against Kefi’s ear, lulling them closer to sleep.  “I shouldn’t have assumed you were the same.”

Kefi tried to murmur an apology, cut off with a gentle hush and a hand carding through his hair.

“Dont.”  It felt like they were underwater with how her voice faded in and out of focus.  “Don’t apologize for what you need.  Sleep, Kefi, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

It was all the encouragement they needed to send them careening into the welcoming darkness.

---

@cinnamonflavoredhugs @finder-of-rings @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @insanitywishes @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Christmas Specials: Longest Night

CW: Internal dehumanization, referenced torture, captivity, brief suicidal thoughts (of the "better than going back" variety)

This is inspired by conversations with @wildfaewhump and @comfy-whumpee - and includes direct references to Morg’s worldbuilding for their Silver Birch storyline, used with their permission and all credit to them. Otherwise, the overarching universe outside the wood belongs to @wildfaewhump.

On the Longest Night, in the bitter cold, the creature - who had been a boy, once, and had never been fae, although parts of him had, and who was now neither of those things and perhaps nothing at all - could run no further.

His wings trembled, clinking the heavy rings pierced into them so long ago the agony of it was barely a faded memory, as he collapsed. Finally shrouded in the shadows of the forest, he listened with little more than resigned despair to the baying of hounds. They were coming, and there was nothing he could do, nowhere left to run. 

He'd been caught kissing Laekna, had tried to fly at first, but his wings were weak from how long it had been since he’d taken to the sky, and too many of his feathers were missing after Laekna’s brother and the other townspeople had set upon him, and he just couldn't force them to take to the air again. 

His wings and shoulders and back screamed in fury at him for trying, aches ran through his ribcage like bolts of lightning. Every breath was pain, but it was still a free breath. 

He would take only a few more. 

Would she miss him?

Or was she like Leanisa, and it had only been because he was a monster unlike any man she'd met? Was he nothing more than novelty to any human now, and sacrilege to any fae?

He shuffled his bare feet through the underbrush, the sound of the dogs growing louder and louder. He could hear Laekna's brother shouting, shuddered at the memory of him accusing Laekna of being thralled, declaring the monster a fae who deserves nothing more than death. 

His head throbbed at the back where the club had come down, blood trickled down his back where they’d held him for the whip before he’d taken a chance and run when they briefly let go. He left the dogs an easy trail to track, but he couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t... had to keep going... had to-

Finally, even his legs gave out, and he crawled into a hollow underneath an immense old tree wider around than four Killans holding hands, wings that stung and feathers thick with drying pearly red blood tucked tightly around himself for warmth, and waited for the dogs to find him.

If he was lucky, they might kill him outright, or sell him to another traveling merchant. If he wasn't, they'd pluck his feathers one by one to sell, and keep him somewhere, alive, but barely. 

More muzzles, to still his thralling voice. More chains to pull his wings out for their inspection, their endless groping hands, their hatred. More hurt, for what he had never wanted to be, but Calon Nie had made him anyway.

The dirt beneath him warmed slowly to his skin, and beyond the protection of the hollow, the wind whistled through the high branches, rustling leaves that felt like a whisper. His heart pounded, his pulse rushed in his ears and temple. 

The creature tried to curl up tighter. He could hear the hunters shouting now, soft cries of this way and found a feather. It was a matter of time. The dogs would follow his blood. 

He closed his eyes and waited, as the shouting and howls grew louder, for them to come.

The wind picked up, leaves and branches clicking together, and then a smell drifted into the little hollow. A smell that was at once warm and that stung his nose. A smell of old blood and fur. 

The monster lifted his head, just a little, and with bright blue eyes with their slit pupils took in a yellow-eyed wolf, shaggy with heavy winter fur, staring back, her head lowered to look at him in the hollow.  

Behind her there were others, huffing, nipping at each other, a whole pack gathering into the clearing by the great old tree. 

One by one, they turned to look at the bit of bedraggled feathers and tangled limbs in the hollow. Eight pairs of yellow eyes met his own. 

The creature caught his breath - and then let it out, a long sigh, in something that was far too close to relief. He was too tired to run any more. Maybe the wolves would kill him faster than humans would. That would be a mercy, to die free, better than life spent tied down. 

"Please b-be fast," He whispered. 

The wolf's lip curled back, showing sharp canines, and she growled, a low rumble barely audible against the wind. 

The creature swallowed, tried to remember, and felt some piece of him threading starsong to find a connection. The words came, not effortlessly, but almost easily once his blood rose to the occasion. "Mharú min glen agaes tepa, diirfiúr," He said, in the language of the fae, of Calon Nie, of the nine deaths it had taken to make him this. 

One of them had been a hunter for their own people, the one who had given blood. He feels the words in his blood, beating pearly red through his veins. Maybe it would seem like human blood again, on the ground in the dark. 

"Ná list do no fiir mise a thógael ar dtii." 

The wolf's claws dug deep into the underbrush just outside the hollow and she lowered herself, ready to come in after him. There was no anger or bloodlust in her eyes, he thought. He could almost feel her, his own predator’s blood calling to hers. "Go raebh maith agaes, a diirfiúr," the creature whispered, his gratitude thick in his voice. The creature uncurled, made himself ready to be taken. 

He closed his eyes, and wondered if he would watch from the mountain with the many fae Calon Nie had killed to create him. 

A hawk's cry tore the sky above their heads and the wolf paused, raising her nose to scent the air, as the creature opened his eyes, surprised. The hawk screamed again, took off in flight, and the trees rustled louder, the course of the wind nearly insistent now.

A flock of great black birds settled into the branches above them, watching, crying out, caw caw caw. The wolves watched them, intently. The creature had the distinct feeling he had stepped into a conversation about him, but not including him. 

The wind blew in a sudden violent gust through the branches of trees. The hunters' dogs bayed, sound carrying so loud they seemed nearly on top of him, and the wolves began to howl in return. Moving as one, they turned away and threaded back through the trees. 

The hunters never found him. 

The wolves scared them away, their howling the sound of a triumphant hunt, and the creature tried to count the hounds as they barked in return, soothing himself knowing they were all there. It wasn't the dogs' fault the monster had stolen bread. It wasn't their fault they knew how to hunt the scent of his feathers and half the blood in his veins. 

The great black birds left, after a while, when the scent of the wolves came again. 

The creature tensed, but they crawled into the hollow with him without their teeth bared. Their warm fur and breath surrounded him, heavy and thick. He tried not to think about why they still smelled like blood, fresher now, new. He hoped Laekna would forgive him, if the blood had been her brother’s.

Not that he could ever go back to ask.

In the bitter cold of the Longest Night, the wolves kept him warm, and the rush of wind through the trees whispered, sleep, boy, be safe here.

"Not, n-not a boy," The creature whispered back, to what he assumed was a hallucination.

The wolf from before huffed a heavy sigh and laid her head on the back of his neck. 

Boy, the trees sighed, in a sad whistle of wind through the hollow. Killan. 

Tears were hot behind his closed eyes as the boy - and he was a boy, even now, after everything - let the wind whispering his name soothe him to sleep.

No one had said his name in so long. He never lost the love of hearing it, even if it was only a dream.

He believed what he heard was a dream.

When he woke, the wolves were gone, but there was a freshly-killed rabbit laid outside the hollow, only a little torn by their teeth. The wind had shaken black walnuts from the trees, along with twigs and branches and he found just the right kind of rocks to create a spark. 

Above him, the trees spoke his name, and the deep blue-black of the Longest Night gave way to the pinks and yellows of dawn. 

We know you, said the trees. The boy caught his breath again, looking up into the canopy.

“What?” He heard it, clear as day, understood the trees. He could feel the starsong that made the world, everything alive in this wood he could sense gathered together to start a new year, the shortest day and longest night passed, the new pass of time begun.

The trees were quiet, but he heard them anyway. 

Be seen. Be Killan. Be here.

You are safe.

---

@quirkykayleetam ​​​ , @whumpallday ​​​ , @whumppsychology ​​​, @doveotions ​​​, @broken-horn , @moose-teeth ​​​, @whumpfigure    @whump-only ​​​, @just-strawberry-jam ​​​, @loopylunacy ​​​ @raigash @whump-tr0pes @slaintetowhump @astrobly​​​​​​ @burtlederp​​​​​​ ​, @finder-of-rings​​​​​​ ​

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 24: Alt Prompt: Comfort

CW: Referenced wing whump/nonconsensual piercings, dehumanized whumpee, noncon touch (nonsexual), pet whump

As always, details of fae biology and this universe in general all belong to @wildfaewhump and they are Vic’s express creation

“Hey there.”

The creature looked up, and the girl managed only with an effort to hold back her wince at the sight of the strange fae eyes that looked at her from such a deeply human face. 

Lord Regyn’s contribution to the salon’s theme of something we haven’t seen before was quiet, faintly trembling, and the girl had seen the poor thing eyeing the cups of steaming coffee poured for everyone else, seen the rush of saliva as those big fae eyes looked at plates piled high with pastries that no one ever moved to feed him.

The creature did not speak, not right away, but she smiled as though he had, sweeping her skirts up a bit with one hand so she could drop into an easy crouch, getting down to its level where it sat, legs crossed, on the smoothly polished floor.

On the other side of the room, the nobility had all gathered around someone else’s bit of pride, a centaur foal pressed shivering into her mother’s side. Centaur born in captivity were exceedingly rare, and the poor dear would keep the attention of the lords and ladies for a while, the girl thought. 

“My name is Melody,” The girl said, nearly extending her hand, but then she realized the creature’s right hand was nothing but wickedly sharp talons, and it was bound in front of him to his left. “Oh, I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

The creature blinked once, twice. Watched her, tense and maybe suspicious, and then shook his head. “No… no name.” He spoke slowly, as though words came only with difficulty but a soft little trill sounded under one voice, layered it with another. “Pet.”

His wings were heavy with copper-colored chains that held them closed even though it clearly pained the boy to have them wrapped so tightly. Chain wound through piercings again and again until left wing and right were forced to touch along the first two joins and then curved down into his back. The chains clinked together a little as he shivered, and Melody wondered what it must feel like, to have great big wings and know you could fly, but to be trapped here on the ground instead.

Melody shook off the melancholy thought and wrinkled her nose. “Well, I don’t like the idea of calling you that. I’ll call you…” Her eyes scanned the room, trying to think of something that might be a good placeholder name. “I’ll call you Ale.”

The creature blinked at her, and one eyebrow raised.

It made her smile, a little more brightly. Whatever his eyes, whatever his wings, the look on that thin face was utterly human.

“Well, if you won’t give me a name, what do you expect, hm?” She poked forward at his arm, cocked her head to the side.

When he smiled - faint and barely there, not even a smile but just a softening of the serious lines of his face - her own smile widened in response.

“Can I get you something to drink, Ale?”

“I’m not… one of them,” The boy - and he was a boy, even if he was half-fae, something she’d always been told wasn’t possible, it would kill a human woman to bear a fae fledgling with wings, wouldn’t it? Or it would kill the tiny fae to bear big human babies. She’d always been told that, anyway, but seeing him…

Melody wondered how much there was in the world she had been told could not exist that stubbornly existed anyway.

“I don’t mind whatever you are,” Melody said, firmly. She reached out, and he let her touch his hand, staring at her with that serious expression again as her fingers rubbed over the rough almost scaly skin of his talons, then the smooth keratin that curved down with a sharpness greater than any man’s blade. “You are a thirsty boy in my brother’s cafe, and I would like to get you something to drink. What’ll you have, manda?”

His eyebrows furrowed, and Melody laughed, a little.

The crowd of nobles had moved on to a mer, who was settled in a tank of water moved in for the occasion and chained to a small rock they had been settled onto, muzzled to make sure those sharp teeth caused no one any dangers.

The mer had been glaring at the boy, earlier - all the rage it should have had for the humans who held it captive had been on the boy instead, who had only cringed back away from the heat of its gaze. 

“My brother and I come from the far south,” Melody said, cheerfully. “Manda is how we say ‘sir’, down there, or ‘my lord’. Tu ba dom pi’lar, manda?”

“I know,” The boy said, and it was Melody’s turn to furrow her eyebrows in surprise.

“You… know?”

“I’m… from the south,” The boy said, in nearly a whisper. Outside of the cafe, the snow fell in great drifts, as it would fall for days and days this time of year. Piling high outside all the doors, so that Melody’s brother would have to go out and shovel clear the walk from the street to the little house he kept the cafe in. They would wake to pure whiteness only to watch the passage of carriages and horses and men and women smash it to gray slick flat nothing.

“Are you?” Melody sat back, and looked him over. He was pale, but it was a paleness underneath a natural tan, a grayish look of someone who had gone too long without the sun his body had been born to. “I didn’t know there were fae in the south.”

“In the… the mountains, there are. Not fae,” The boy said, wearily, sadly. “I say it and say it, but…” His sentence ended in a soft, sad chirp. “I’m not… anything. But I was from the south, once.”

Melody nodded, slowly, and when he looked up at her this time she could see the tiniest hints of stitches around the corners of his eyes, and see the places where his talons had been connected to a hand that had once held fingers.

Not born, she thought with horror, but made. She wondered if Lord Regyn himself had done it, in the pursuit of endlessly novelty. She hid her horror behind her sweetest smile. 

“I’ll get you some of our tea from our home in the back,” Melody said softly. “My brother keeps the spice tea here, the chirag. Did you ever have it?”

The boy’s eyes widened, the slut of his pupil dilating to wide and round with interest, and Melody swallowed down her discomfort. His wings ruffled a little, rattling the chains. “Would you?” he whispered, eyes flickering to the lord and his friends, and back to Melody again. “Chirag, mandar?”

She grinned. “Hai, manda. Tu bak mazi?”

“Hai,” He replied, quickly, and held up his thumb and forefinger to show how much. “Juul, du?”

“Hai, juul du, ill’nah.”

“Tak, mandar.” His voice stumbled over the words, it must have been so long since he spoke them to anyone but himself, but the longer he spoke the more easily they came. “Tak.”

“Ill’nah, manda.” She was up in a flash, happy that her brother kept water boiling for customers all day long and it was an easy thing to steep the tea and warm the milk and add the imported juul, a honey from bees who could not live in this cold climate. She worried that the boy would be the centerpiece by the time she returned but he was still sitting just under the table, watching the crowd watching a dancing girl who spun with ribbons in her hands, creating a blur of elegance and movement.

So long as you didn’t look at the desperation in the dancing girl’s eyes, it was beautiful.

Melody came back with the steaming hot tea, cardamom and black pepper and the sweetness of honey and warm milk surrounding her, and placed it into the boy’s hands. She didn’t pull back when his talons came close, but kept herself steady, and her eyes on his.

He whispered his tak, his thank you, and she smiled at him, wondering what would have brought a boy from the south this far north - and what had ruined him with fae parts where there had been human bits, before.

The boy finished his tea just as the lord turned to beckon him to his feet, to be the final subject of their attention. Melody took the still-warm empty mug from him and watched him push himself up, moving with careful steps, his eyes focused on his lord.

She swallowed against the sight of the lord lifting a hand to run fingers through the boy’s hair, whispering a command that the boy nodded to. He leaned forward, and the lord’s fingers moved to the chains that bound his wings, pulling on one hard enough that the boy trilled in pain - and the chains fell in a clatter of metal to coil on the floor, the boy’s wings spreading out all at once with a dramatic whoosh of air that ruffled the hair along the sides of Melody’s neck.

She stared, mug forgotten in her hands, at how beautiful his wings were. Deep reddish brown, with shades of lighter color - nearly to cream - and wide flight feathers.

The lord hooked his index finger through one of the brass rings that had been pierced into the joins and pulled hard, causing the boy to whimper and trill again, but he forced his wings to spread even wider, showing their full span, as Lord Regyn smiled and praised him.

The boy smiled, sad and slight, and leaned his head eagerly in to the lord’s touch, nuzzling into the palm of his hand. Melody felt her stomach curl in something like fearful disgust. His talons could have torn the lord’s throat open in an instant. Instead, when Lord Reg bade him give one more call again, he chirped, and the lord whispered poison praise to him while the crowd applauded the sight of it.

Oh, she couldn’t stay out here. It was an honor, for nobility to use the cafe for their salon, an honor and a great deal of coin, but-

Her eyes went to the centaur foal, the little filly still hiding against her mother. The little filly - the little girl, really, for all that centaur had liquid dark eyes like horses did - looked back at her, and Melody felt an ugly twist of guilt for even existing in a place where thinking, breathing, speaking beings were put on display for the nobles to poke and prod and treat like things.

Melody fled to the back of the cafe when the boy, who was fae and not fae, was ordered to show his fae voice, and his trills grated down all her nerves. It was a song whose refrain Melody couldn’t stand to hear, and she demanded her brother serve the nobles now instead.

You could help, but you won’t, the boy’s trilling said. You could do good things, but you won’t. You could you could you could-

All she’d been able to give him was a moment of being human and a bit of warm tea. 

It wasn’t enough.

---

@quirkykayleetam ​​​ , @whumpallday ​​​ , @whumppsychology ​​​, @doveotions ​​​, @broken-horn , @moose-teeth ​​​, @whumpfigure    @whump-only ​​​, @just-strawberry-jam ​​​, @loopylunacy ​​​ @raigash @whump-tr0pes @slaintetowhump @raiiini @raigash 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 20: Lost

CW: Wing whump, puncture wound, blood/blood loss, dehumanization both external and internal

As always, details of fae biology and this universe in general all belong to @wildfaewhump and they are Vic’s express creation

He knew he was a boy – a man, actually, right? Wasn’t he? - but the more he bled, trailing pearly shimmering red along the forest floor as he stumbled, leaving a smeared impression of his fingers on tree bark as he caught himself, losing the occasional feather to bushes and shrugs that seemed to reach for him with spindly limbs… the harder it was to remember he had ever been anything but an animal.

A creature, a monster being hunted through the woods, trying to outrun the hunter and his dogs, splashing through a shallow stream with his left wing dragging ripples when he could no longer keep it up and curled against his back. 

Water soaked up into the feathers, slowed him down with the weight he had to carry. His shoulders were burning from the strain on his muscles, and worse than that was the blood still dripping down his wing.

The pain was too great, and he wasn’t moving fast enough. He’d been running for… a while. Could have been minutes, or hours. It was hard to tell, the woods were dark around him. Crashing through the branches could have been the hunter back on his tail, or it could be squirrels or birds or absolutely nothing at all.

He couldn’t-... couldn’t fly.

If he could have - letting the currents of air lift him above the canopy of trees in this dense, dark forest, even for a few minutes - he might have been able to see a way out of this. Some part of him screamed at him to fly, to take to the sky, get high enough their arrows could not reach him again, but it was too late. He was already caught, wasn’t he?

If only he could have moved a little faster, or gotten airborne again for just a second… All he needed was the edge of the woods, the open flat dirt of a road. Even just woodsmoke from a cabin, where he could maybe hide out in the barn until the hunter had gone. Anything, anything at all, anything he could see from the air-

But he couldn’t even begin to get his left wing to move that way, and he’d been trailing shimmering, pearly-red blood from the wound in his wing for a while now. It first soaked slowly into his feathers, the high, soft, tiniest ones almost like down and then the flight feathers, longer and sleek, clumping with red that glimmered with starsong forced into it. Once it had soaked through his feathers down to the edge, it had begun to drip to the forest floor. 

He’d been leaving tracks, and he could hear the predators following him. They were waiting him out, keeping back to avoid the sharp talons on his right hand, avoid the range of the voice that could thrall them.

They were letting him tire, until he had nothing left.

And he had no idea where he was. He was lost, stumbling through an unfamiliar wood, bleeding not to death but certainly to weakness, and in his mind was the constant refrain of I won’t go back, I won’t go back, I won’t go back-

But he would, and he knew it.

Back to the most recent salesman, the one who had won him in a card game from another. A tall, thin merchant with cold eyes, who called him damned.

Through n-no fault of my own-

It doesn’t matter. You should be kept out of sight, in the dark, until I figure out what to do with you.

He let out a choked-off sob as his feathers were caught and pulled by low-slung branches on a wobbly, thin tree that hook briefly into the brass ring in the join of his wing - pulling the skin taught around the place where the shaft of the arrow is still stuck straight through him.

He had to jerk the ring free, weakly scrabbling at it with his human hand, soft keens of pain coming from his fae voice, tiny human whimpers alongside. It hurt, and it hurt far more when he heard the first baying howl of a dog that had caught his scent and he had to hurry. He had no time to be careful, and he felt dizziness rock him as a fresh burst of hot blood ran from his wound. 

He wasn’t going to make it. He couldn’t keep bleeding like this, and he could barely carry weight on his right leg, it was starting to drag - a telltale track for the hunter to follow, a not-fae monster with a lame wing and a battered, bruised leg.

He’d been flying, heading for the mountains, hoping maybe this time he could beg for sanctuary with the fae. Somehow convince them he wasn’t a threat, get somebody’s court to take pity and at least let him stay to the edges, at least let him live without being hunted. Let him live in the light.

The fall had been worse than the arrow, at first.

The sudden burst of white-hot pain had stunned him, caught him mid-spin enjoying an early-morning chill, and sent him tumbling to the ground below.

He’d heard his own frantic keens of panic and fear as if from a distance, and then they’d been drowned out when he slammed into the trees, feathers flying all around him as they were ripped free by the branches he smacked into one after another on the way down.

His saving grace had been catching himself with his right hand, talons digging deep, or he’d have broken something when he hit the ground. Still, his ribs ached and he knew the way a cracked rib felt, he’d been kicked in the ribs more than once in his life, and his right leg wasn’t broken but it wasn’t far off.

It had been his saving grace, maybe, the reason he wasn’t dead from the impact - but… but it had made him a slow-moving target, easy to simply follow and wait for him to collapse.

The constant throbbing agony moved through his body, sharpest where the arrow was still embedded, slim well-made smooth wood stabbed right through. He’d managed to cut the tendon-ties that had held the arrowhead on, and now he carried that in his hand, an absurd sort of self-defense.

He had talons on one hand and an arrowhead in the other, but it didn’t matter- wouldn’t matter - could never matter.

The hunter knew these woods, and the boy - the monster, the creature, the thing - was lost and bleeding.

The dog howled again, and this time its packmates answered, and he heard the hollering call of the hunter. Now - now they were getting closer, closing in on him, maybe reading how his steps were beginning to shuffle, slowing down. The barking of the dogs was louder, and his heart thundering in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears, could no longer drown them out.

Too late.

He couldn’t go fast enough to escape - and he had no idea where he even should be going, if he could.

The creature - not a boy, no, just an animal, to be hunted and sold and kept and sold again - fell to its knees, groaning in pain, weeping into the soft decaying leaves that were gradually turning to dirt on the ground.

When the hunter found it, it would have no energy left to fight.

Dragged back to the man and the muzzle, and its place in the dark.

---

@quirkykayleetam ​​​ , @whumpallday ​​​ , @whumppsychology ​​​, @doveotions ​​​, @broken-horn , @moose-teeth ​​​, @whumpfigure    @whump-only ​​​, @just-strawberry-jam ​​​, @loopylunacy ​​​ @raigash @whump-tr0pes @slaintetowhump

[endless-whump]

Kefi: All Yours

CW: extremely creepy/questionable “caretaker,” manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, referenced wing whump, conditioning, borderline dehumanization?, intimate whumper

@whump-advent-calendar - Cuddling for warmth <3

Universe belongs to @wildfaewhump <3

--

“You’re cold.”

It was a statement, not a question.  Kefi glanced up at Ronin, then away.  They had been huddled on the couch near the fire, not wanting to disturb Ronin in his study.

“Am..am fine.”  They insisted quietly.  “Wings..feathers used to keep warm.  Harder, now.”

The fae’s wings were folded close to their back, bandages winded around thin joints.  There were feathers, left, but they were few and mangled and painful to try and groom.  Kefi preferred to just keep them wrapped, so they couldn’t see it.  So they didn’t have to think about it.

Ronin stood in the doorway of the small room, observing Kefi quietly.  Curiously, almost.  He closed the distance between them, sitting down on the couch opposite of them.  He leaned back, smiling softly.

“Come on over here, there's no need for you to be all cold and sad like that.”

Kefi barely hesitated before moving over to Ronin, practically curling up in his lap.  He smelled sharply clean, like mint.  Kefi had grown to love the smell.  They trilled quietly in contentment, burrowing deep into the warm embrace as a blanket was pulled over them, cuddling against Ronins chest for comfort.

Ronin wrapped his arms around the fae, hand running gently up the side of their neck.  Kefi felt a flash of discomfort before brushing it off, relaxing back into the touch.  This was ok.

Kefi dozed, warm against the arms wrapped around them, blanket draped heavily over them until only their face was visible.  They were safe here, warm, wanted.  All the things they couldn’t be before.

“All mine,”  Ronin hummed, leaning close to Kefi’s ear.  

All yours, Kefi thought to themself, and they barely knew the weight behind it.

[endless-whump]

Kefi: Favorites

Universe belongs to @wildfaewhump <3

CW: violence, implied nightmare, captivity, torture, fantasy racism, very brief implied/threatened mouth (tongue) whump, conditioning, self deprecation, creepy whumper, extremely panicked/frantic whumpee, references to fantasy trafficking/selling parts of a fae, referenced wing whump (specifically the breaking of wing bones)

Masterlist

believe it or not there’s fluff in this XD

---

“Get in.”

Kefi shrank back, chains scraping loudly against the floor.  They shook their head, chest heaving with the attempts to breathe.  They couldn’t go in there, they knew those bars would be iron and they couldn’t take any more burns and they just couldn’t.

“Was, was good- was good, I was, no no please-”

A sharp cry echoed in the room as the man grabbed Kefi by the hair, the fae kicking weakly as they were dragged across the floor.  Their head exploded in pain, sobs wracking their body as they pawed uselessly at the hands in their hair.

“None of that faespeak, else I’ll brand your tongue, too.”

The cage rattled violently as the fae’s small body was tossed in, a shrill scream tearing from them.  Everything burned,the bars on their legs and arms and feet and back impossible to escape from as they scrambled for relief.  The door slammed shut, the almost cage shaking with the force of the panicked fae’s struggling.  Their feet scraped against the bottom of the cage to try and scramble back, only hitting more bars, the bottoms of their feet burning on the metal.

“N,No no please, h,help help,”  They couldn’t breathe, no matter how much they moved something was touching the bars, something was burning and something was hurting and they couldn’t bear it.  

“I said stop!”

Kefi cried as the man hit the cage, scratching at their ringing ears.  

“You’ll stay like that until you can learn to shut up and let yourself be useful.”  A hand shot out to grab the collar of the fae’s tattered shirt, yanking them up against the iron bars.  They just kept crying, trying to pull away from the grip keeping them up against the cage.  “You stay still, you stay quiet, and you stay useful, and in return I’ll keep you alive enough to.”

“Will, I will, please, please-”

Their vision went white as their head was slammed against the cage, agony racing through their body as they were shaken.  It smelled like blood, small hands clawing at the collar too tight around their throat, pressed up against the bars.

“Shut up!”

Still

They tried to drop their hands, closing their eyes as they shivered violently, skin burning at the contact they tried not to cringe away from.  The harsh grip stayed, fingers moving with deceiving gentleness through the fae’s hair

“Good fae.”

Quiet

Pained trills died in their throat, breaths thin and ragged.  They tried to relax against the touch even as it burned.

Useful

--

A ragged gasp caught in their throat as Kefi jerked awake, scrabbling at the blankets wrapped around them.  There was iron, they couldn’t breathe, they were trapped and they needed to get out.

They were warm, which was strange.  It was always cold in the chains.  

“Kefi?”

A loud, scared trill tore from the fae’s throat as they buried themself against Metilia’s chest.  Warm arms wrapped around them, warm warm warm, it wasn’t cold anymore.  They never wanted to be cold again.

“Bad...bad memory,”  They whispered, voice breaking.  They felt safe under the weight of the blankets, the crackling fire behind them a comforting sound.  It felt like home here.  

“Kefi...did they use you?  Did they sell you? I know down north they have markets-”

“Yes,” They whispered, hiding against Metilia.  “They...they took my feathers, and, um, they’d break off parts of..of my wing.  T,The bone,”

The arms tightened, hands rubbing up and down their back soothingly.

“God..that should never have happened, Kef.”

“So..so much blood, they took.”  The fae kept going, voice shaking as they clung to her.  “They took it.  They, They just k,kept passing me around and so many cages, there were, and they all took it.”

Metilia didn’t say anything to that.

“Talking again, Metilia, was I? In sleep?”

“Yea.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kefi was pulled to a sitting position, trilling tiredly as the blankets slipped off their head, squinting against the sudden light.  Yellow eyes blinked to focus on Metilia’s brown ones, hands ruffling their hair.

“Don’t be silly, you have nothing to be sorry for.  You want some food?”

They perked up, letting their trills die in their throat, still eagerness slipping into their demeanor.  Their wings dropped, relaxed, behind them.  They looked meek. Compliant.

“Yes please, will be good, may I-”

Metilia pressed her finger to their lips, stopping them with a frown.  

“None of that,”  She murmured sadly, and pushed a bowl into their hands.  “Made this while you were asleep...you don’t have to ask for things like that anymore.”

Kefi looked down at the bowl, blinking dumbly.

“Chicken pot pie.”

Metilia tilted her head, watching them carefully.  They seemed cautious...sad, almost.  Did she get it wrong?  Did seeing it remind them of something, make them sad?  Did she just make things worse?

“I’m sorry, you always seemed to like it and I know you’ve been having trouble with food, I can make you something else if-”

“It’s my favorite.”

She closed her mouth, staring at the small fae in front of her.  She wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Yea, I used to make it every week, Kef.”

Kefi took a bite, and she didn’t miss the way their hands trembled just slightly.  Small, bony wrists were visible from the cuffs of their large sweater as they fell down a bit.  They smiled, rocking side to side, taking another bite, closing their eyes.

“Have been gone for long time, did not expect you to remember.”

She put a hand over theirs, stopping them for a moment.  They refused to look up at her, but also didn’t draw away.  The firelight cast against their back shadowed their face.

“Kefi, why would I forget that.”

They paused, glancing up at her nervously.  “They told me you forgot.  That I was not remembered.”  They took another bite when Metilia removed her hand, smile faded a bit, now.  “That I became nothing.”

She let them eat in quiet.  As soon as the bowl was set aside she bundled them up in her arms, setting her chin on the top of their head as she stared into the fire.  They were so strong to even make it back here, to her, but she couldn’t help but see how they had broken.

“Kefi, you are everything.  I see the stars in you every time I lay eyes on you, even if you can’t see it in yourself anymore.  They will never take that away from you, not truly.”

She hoped they could heal, with time.  She hoped she could make up for how she’d let them be hurt, be torn apart, be manipulated into believing the piles of lies that made them seem to carry a disturbing indifference about themself.  She wished...god, she wished she could take it all away.

“Metilia?”

“Yea, Kef?”

“Forgot bread rolls, you did.”

---

taglist

@simplygrimly @cinnamonflavoredhugs @finder-of-rings @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @insanitywishes @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

[endless-whump]

Masterlist

Universe belongs to @wildfaewhump <3

--

It was pure chance, really, how that morning went.  Metilia sipped her coffee quietly, staring at the fireplace as the thunder rolled above the house.  The rain had let up a bit at least, hints of sunrise peeking through the curtains.  It was peaceful, and Metilia couldn’t help but let her graze drift to the nest of blankets arranged by the stone hearth.  She didn’t have the heart to get rid of it, not even a full season later.

She was setting up a pot over the stovetop when she realized she was missing a can of applesauce, frowning as she rummaged through the pantry.  There was more in the cellar around back.  She almost smacked her nose against the wood door as she pushed against it, expecting it to open with ease.  It barely budged, like something heavy was wedged against it from the outside.  She frowned, leaning her shoulder against it and pushing, freezing when she heard the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the porch, then a whimper.

“What the hell-“

She shoved herself through the opening she’d managed, finding herself looking down at someone she, in all honesty, wasn’t expecting to ever see again.

“Kefi?”

She dropped to her knees beside the motionless figure, eyes darting first to the wings.  They were…they were mangled, to put it simply, wrapped in bandages that were torn and bloodied from wear, thin with the lack of feathers and pulled close to the fae’s body.

“Oh my god..”

Hesitant hands hovered above their body, eyes raking of them for damage.  There was too much of it.  They were soaked, shuddering weakly in their thin, tattered clothing.  There were so many unanswered questions on her mind, but she knew they’d have to wait.  

Metilia was strong, but didn’t need to be for how light the fae was, lifted easily into her arms.  The door slammed shut behind her as she kicked it closed.  

She laid the unmoving fae on their stomach, careful to tilt their head to the side so they could breathe.  She needed to get them warm, then wrap those wings.  More wood was thrown on the fire, blankets bundled in her arms to drape over them, water already on the stovetop for salves.  She worked quickly and quietly, face solemn.  Kefi didn’t stir even as she stripped the wet clothes off their body, replacing them with old, dry ones she’d made them.  She never got rid of those, either.  

The fire crackled loudly, and Metilia couldn’t help but sigh in relief when Kefi started shivering.  That was a good sign.  Sitting so they were half in her lap, she piled blankets around them until only their face and wings were exposed.  A breath caught in her throat as she stretched the wings out carefully, laying them out gently by Kefi’s sides.  They were...burned.  They were ruined.  She cursed herself for letting the word cross her mind.  Bare primaries replaced where soft, full dappled feathers should have been, some sections clumped with half grown, molting feathers.  She tried to take hope in the fact some were seeming to grow back.

What haunted her most was the circle of scarring on the shoulder of the wing...a brand.  She didn’t dare linger on the question of who the crest belonged to.  

Her hands were gentle as she smoothed salve over the scarring, unwrapping the tattered bandaging that was left and tossing them aside.  There were places that needed them replaced, small cuts and irritated wounds, but otherwise she could tell the damage wasn’t very recent.

Careful of the wings once she was finished, Metilia adjusted the blankets and rolled Kefi onto their side, tucked against her.  She took hold of one of their wrists, heart twisting as she observed the lines of new silver scarring around them.

Captive.  That’s where Kefi had been all this time.  She’d suspected it, of course, but a selfish part of her had hoped they’d just gone back to their own, or off again on whatever journey she was never able to pry from the unusually secretive fae.  It was a hope she never believed, really.  It was a lie necessary to let herself sleep at night, without guilt.  She’d looked for Kefi at first, but it was nearly impossible to find any leads without a lot of risk.  In the end she’d settled for that hope, no- lie, to herself, and now she saw the result.

She couldn’t help but feel like she’d failed them, in a way.

Kefi’s hair was still a little damp, but they seemed to be warming up enough.  They shivered under the layers of blankets, a soft, muffled whimper audible.  Metilia ran her fingers through the soft brown locks, brushing across their temple comfortingly.  The morning crickets chirped as she settled on her side, fae tucked protectively against her.  

“F,Found you, Metilia?”

Kefi’s voice was soft, hesitant.

Metilia looked down, brows furrowing.  Kefi peered up at her with a strange, far away look.  Almost fearful.  She could see faint lines across the bridge of their nose and along their cheekbones in the firelight, scars she didn’t want to ponder the cause of.

“Sure did, Kef.”  She confirmed gently, tears filling her eyes.  She brushed the hair out of their face, looking past the scars, looking at the constellation of freckles across their tan face she missed so, so goddamn much.  “You found me.”

“Long time, I was gone.  I am sorry.”  

Sorry.  They were sorry.  

“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I’m afraid I’ve made a poor excuse of a friend, Kefi.”  Metilia said softly.  “I should have looked harder for you...I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

The fae just stared at her for a moment, looking uncertain.  Their eyes looked sad, and she wanted nothing more than to erase every single bit of hurt they had been forced to endure.

“You looked for me?”

They sounded surprised.

Metilia’s heart broke.

She bundled them up in her arms, their small frame still shivering under the layers of blankets.  She kissed the top of their head, choking on a sob.  After everything they'd been through, they held a simple, innocent disbelief she’d even looked for them.  She wanted to do nothing but keep them safe.

“Missed you, Metilia.”

“I missed you too, Kefi.”

--

taglist:

@simplygrimly @cinnamonflavoredhugs @finder-of-rings @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @insanitywishes @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi 

[endless-whump]

Kefi: Home

CW: Stockholm syndrome, intimate whumper, questionable “caretaker”, manipulation, gaslighting

Masterlist

Universe belongs to @wildfaewhump <3

---

A startled yelp, glass shattering against the wall.

“R,Ronin, didn’t mean to, I didn’t, I-”

“You didn’t have to, Kefi!”

Kefi flinched hard when another piece of glass shattered against the wall, another vase, watching the man in terror.

“After everything I’ve done for you, you try to leave?  You’ll die, out there, Kefi. DIE, you hear me?  Nobody is going to protect you out there, nobody is going to care about you.”

Kefi shrank back, stumbling to find words to explain themself.  They had a bundle of blankets and clothes and food abandoned on the floor, it was an impulse, really.  They..woke up feeling homesick, panicked.  They just wanted to go home.

“But Metilia, Metilia cares, she does, she does.  Sorry sorry sorry-”  Kefi held their hands up defensively, wary of the anger Ronin had never shown like this before.  “-sorry, cares a,about me, she does, just wanted to find her, I did, just wanted to find her.”

Ronin was pacing now, shined shoes clicking harshly on wood before quieting on the rug, clicking again when he paced back.

“No, you were going to leave me, Kefi.  If she gave a shit about you, why were you left by yourself?  Why were you abandoned, left to your own defense when you were useless.  Why would she do that, Kefi?  Why would she ever do that if she cared about you?”

“I-”

“She doesn’t, Kefi.  She never cared about you, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Kefi bit their lip to keep it from quivering, arms held close to their chest.  

“Was..was homesick, I was, I’m sorry..”  Their voice was barely a whisper, a weak defence against Ronin’s fury.

“Kefi, the closest thing you have to a home is here.”  He sounded..annoyed, exasperated almost.  “There's no way for you to be homesick, sweetheart.  You don’t have anything left there.  You’re going to get yourself lost, hurt, scared, all by yourself out there where I can’t reach you.  Can’t you see how it scares me, for you to be out of reach?”

Kefi nodded, eyes darting to the floor, their bandaged feet shifting on the wood.  They choked on a sob, throat hurting from the effort it took to hold back.

“Kefi, look at me.”

They raised their eyes hesitantly, soft yellow meeting piercing blue.  Ronin’s expression softened, seeing the tears streaming down their face.  He ran a hand over his face, expression lined with a mixture of anger and sympathy.  It was a combination that confused Kefi endlessly.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

Kefi didn’t hesitate to launch themself into Ronin’s arms, sobbing as they were bundled into the warm embrace.

“You don’t have a home to go back to, not anymore.”  He held Kefi as they sobbed, wailing into his shirt, trembling.  “There isn’t anything left for you there.  You have to move on.”

I don’t want to

“There isn’t anybody waiting for you.  They all left, don’t you understand?  They moved on without you.”

Their always bandaged wings lay limp behind them, shuddering as they cried until they couldn’t anymore, held and comforted by the only person left for them.  They just wanted to go home.

---

@simplygrimly @cinnamonflavoredhugs @finder-of-rings @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @insanitywishes @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi