Trope is the Thing With Feathers

Claire || HIATUS FROM TAG GAMES || Adult woman writing whump, angst, romance, and your other guilty pleasures || Ask me things! || Blog is SFW; fiction on Ao3 is NSFW and intended for 18+ only || Ao3 || Buy me a Ko-Fi!

[g1ngerbeer]

nice pair of characters who trust each other more than anyone else in the whole entire world it would sure be a shame if one of them betrayed that trust for the sake of trying to keep the other alive. it would sure be a shame to love someone so much you destroy them

[g1ngerbeer]

“i need you to live even if it means you never forgive me for this” is an emotion

[loreleiloon]

I love it when bound hands flex sporadically.

Maybe when behind the back, or in front. Above the head.

Those little stretches of the fingers as if the hands are rebelling their inability to move but can do nothing.

And time goes on until they do it again.

✨ Bound hand finger flexes ✨

[little-peril-stories]

🌈 ROYGBIV Quotes (this is a Kate birthday tradition now)

2025 / 2024

Hi, I've been quiet on here lately, but today is my birthday, and I feel like sharing. 💙 So, here we go: my lil selection of rainbow quotes from various 2026 WIPs. I tried to throw some whumpy ones in there for funsies. Enjoy!

open tag if you want to play

❤️ RED (The Light of Wandering Stars)

Will studies me, dipping his head slightly as I move down his hands, which look like they’ve at least had somewhat of a rinse, although one cut kept bleeding, sending lines of red through the grooves in his skin. “You’d miss me, huh?”

🧡 ORANGE (fantasy WIP 1)

I don’t answer, but rather watch as he drops the now-alight halves into the stove’s belly and waits for the kindling and thinly split logs to catch their sparks. The kindling takes to the flames right away, but the larger pieces need extra care. He blows softly over the fire, and then the entire thing bursts into orange light, so bright that I can, momentarily, see the shadow of his every eyelash.

Fun fact! This entire scene got cut yesterday. At least this nice little eyelash moment will be immortalized here.

💛 YELLOW (The Light of Wandering Stars)

At first, I think she isn’t going to leave.

But she does.

Yellow petals, grey cotton, pink scars, and brown eyes. Turning away. Drifting into the distance. Vanishing.

I can’t believe I wanted this.

💚 GREEN (fantasy WIP 2)

Before I had the chance to muster up more pleading or at least another call for help, the green cord loosened, releasing me from the tree trunk. I slumped forward, my treacherous knees giving out on me.

💙 BLUE (The Light of Wandering Stars)

Will, however, doesn’t appear amused. If anything, he’s wholly bewildered by Victoria’s out-of-the-blue request. Even worse, he looks exhausted; the dark spots under his eyes match the oily stains smeared on his hands and pant legs. “Think I should go,” he says uneasily, glancing my way again. Is it me he came here to see? Or Colette? “Sorry.”

“Damn right you should go.”

💜 INDIGO PURPLE (fantasy WIP 2)

I shook my head, trying to back away. The cord remained taut. “And that’s sad for you, but it has nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you.”

Even though it had been early afternoon when he appeared at the stall to upend my entire life, darkness fell now. The sky turned a deep, dizzying purple, throwing the two of us into violet-hued shadow.

🪻 VIOLET (fantasy WIP 1)

Quietly, scooping up a dollop of the salve, I describe the threads of violet in the live plant’s leaves that give it its name, then hover my hand over his cheek. “Get ready. It’ll sting again.”

lol if you read this far and you're new here, here are my whumpy books that started as a serial (The Prince of Thieves) on Tumblr: The Mark of Thieves / The Patron Saint of Scoundrels

[starsciencees]

have you ever cried at work

yes, in front of other people (office job)

yes, in private (office job)

no (office job)

yes, in front of other people (retail, food service, or similar)

yes, in private (retail, food service, or other)

no (retail, food service, or other)

nuance/some case not covered/I have never had a job

Voting ended onApr 2

If you have worked both office and retail jobs pick whichever one was most recent

[little-peril-stories]

HAPPY RELEASE DAY TO MY SECOND BOOK BABY!

Universal Book Link

Goodreads

Book 1 which is 99c is the USA right now

[lost-in-eriador]

in 2026, remember how GOOD writing feels. remember how satsfying it is to get your characters to the point you have been dying to get to, where they will experience the love, fear, relief or whatever the feeling you want to bring to life may be. let this year be the year of writing, prgress and of satisfactory endings.

[thewhumpyprintingpress]

2026 Whumpy Reads Challenge

Join us for the first ever Whumpy Reads Challenge over on Storygraph! This is a low-key, year long reading challenge to read whump books. There are 12 total prompts, and you can complete as many or as few as you want! The goal is to read some whumpy books and have fun! You can join the challenge here.

The prompts are:

A book featuring your favorite whump trope

A book that gave you whumperflies

A sci-fi, dystopian, or post-apocalyptic whumpy book

A fantasy whumpy book

A whumpy book with a protagonist and/or author who is not a cis man

A whumpy book with a disabled protagonist and/or author

A whumpy book with a LGBTQ+ protagonist and/or author

A whumpy book with a BIPOC protagonist and/or author

A book from a whump-adjacent genre

A whumpy book released in 2026

A self-published whumpy book

A book published by WPP

I hope you'll consider joining us on this whumpy reading journey!

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Ty!! Can u make new lists plz? I'm on my goal to support indie writers more now due to the strike, plus I'm tired of the same bestselling authors getting so much hype for crap when indie is so much more interesting

oh, dang, half of the writeblrs i follow are writing for leisure purposes only.

however, i know some but i don't follow them: @ashen-crest, @reeseweston, @radley-writes. (sorry for tagging) they have published books already as far as i know. to ppl who see this. . . feel free to mention published indie writers.^^

edit: i accidentally deleted the reblog to a response. . . and radley-writes is trad-pub, not indie. sorry for teh faux pas!

[clairelsonao3]

If you like whump and/or angst, @i-can-even-burn-salad and @winterandwords are both great writers who have published multiple (FREE!) ebooks.

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Thank you 🥹 I'd like to add a few I haven't seen mentioned before.

@menagerie-of-monsters has multiple books, the last of which just came out last week. If you're into monster romance, take a look.

@serotoninshift also has one, this wonderful book about a boy and a fish who is not a fish, or is he?

@heymacareyna has a couple, the one I've read is this ace fake dating romance.

@poopraven also has multiple, and the first of the Inheritance series is free, so you can just take a look.

@callaeidae3 has a series as well, the start of which is this one.

@authorlaurawinter with many books, for example this one.

@whump-me has several books as well, for example the Iron Bound series, the first of which is free.

[painsandconfusion]

@the-modern-typewriter has a few books out as well as a Patreon!

@albino-whumpee as well

I’m sorry, I’d grab links if I weren’t on mobile

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Damn. That post was a while ago.

Funnily enough, by now @clairelsonao3 has published her book(s) starting with never broken.

@little-peril-stories has the first part of a duology out, the mark of thieves, and the second part will be out later this year.

writingwolverina has a few books out, for example the first part in the creed of gethin series.

brynwrites isn't really active on tumblr anymore but has written some of my favorite books, a few are here on itch.io while their vampire series can be found in other places.

@acertainmoshke has a very cute middle grade book with a disabled/autistic protagonist.

@sages-whump-space has books on various platforms, this post's sale is over but the links are still valid.

whump-tr0pes's honor bound series has six entries as well as a spin-off now.

And don't forget the 12 months of whump series of novellas by various authors. My personal favorite is never, never by @befuddled-calico-whump.

[clairelsonao3]

Thank you!!! 🥹 If anyone likes spicy, whumpy, dystopian M/F romance books, they now know where to look 🥰

[clairelsonao3]

2000 posts!

[clairelsonao3]

Happy STS! What is/would be your characters' favorite Halloween movie?

Happy STS! Thanks for the question!

Here are answers for Linc and Sierra, two characters nobody here knows because I’ve never talked about them and because they’re from my nameless comfort detox project — forbidden love, very loose plot, mostly aching and hurt/comfort. 💔🗝️

Sierra: Practical Magic. She claims it’s for the witchy aesthetic but really, she just loves a story where women take back their power and still get the guy. Plus, she had a Sandra Bullock phase that she’s definitely not still in.

Linc: won’t admit, but then says he’s seen Coraline like five times and thinks it’s creepy as hell but kind of beautiful. He also thinks Casper is underrated. Actually, he sort of IS Casper (but alive). 😂

[classywhump]

I know this is extremely specific, but the little flail that a prisoner or ex-prisoner does when someone walks in on them and they scramble from laying down to a defensive position

[little-peril-stories]

Okay, I know Tumblr is not for marketing, but if anyone's interested, my book (which started as a whump series right here on Tumblr) is free on Amazon until October 30. :) Who doesn't love free stuff?

You can download it here. 💙

Anyway, happy Halloween week. 🖤

[oliversrarebooks]

we'll make great pets

This bit of pet whump was partially inspired by Stray by @sowhumpshaped and by my innate desire to write protagonists who are kind of assholes.

tw: pet whump, dehumanization, brainwashing, involuntary drugging, captivity, abuse, dystopia, whumper turned whumpee

"Morning, Scout," said Max in a groggy mumble as he ruffled his pet's hair. His pet looked up at him with adoring eyes, as always. It was curled up safe and warm in its nest under a pile of weighted and woolen blankets, and Max couldn't help but be momentarily jealous. He'd love to slide back into his warm bed, but the driver would be here soon and his dad would kill him if he kept skipping out on his stupid business classes. 

Pets didn't have to worry about any of that. They didn't have to worry about boring-ass college lectures or overdue papers or their parents riding their ass about the family legacy. All they had to do was eat, sleep, and obey their masters. Must be nice, in a way.

"Here, I brought you breakfast." As Scout sat up, yawning adorably and rubbing the sleep out of its eyes, Max tossed it a breakfast packet in one of its favorite flavors, egg and cheese. Max always bought it the good stuff, premium pet food with lots of protein and all-natural, high quality ingredients. His pet ate as good as he did, most days. Scout happily slurped up the food as Max refilled its water bottle and dumped its pills out into his hand. 

"Down the hatch, boy," he said, popping the pills into his pet's mouth and quickly following it up with the water bottle before it could spit the pills out. Scout was well-behaved, having come from one of the finest pet facilities on the Eastern seaboard, but it was sometimes a little fussy about its pills. Max's dad used to slap and yell at the poor thing as though it were capable of knowing better. It had been a lot happier since accompanying Max to college, several hours away from his parents. So had Max.

With his pet all settled, Max turned to his closet to dress himself. Half his clothes lay in a pile on the floor where he'd tossed them aside, dissatisfied, the other day. The housekeeper wouldn't be coming until tomorrow so he'd just have to live with that. "I can't believe how trash all these clothes are. I gotta go shopping. Don't you think so, Scout?"

Scout nodded from his bed.

"Exactly. You get it. Just don't tell Dad how much I've been spending. It's our little secret, okay?" He ruffled Scout's hair as it laughed softly. Scout rarely ever spoke, much less gave up any of Max's secrets. It was a bad habit of Max's to talk to Scout as if it were a person, especially when no one else was around. Scout had been a birthday present for Max's seventh birthday, back when he'd been his parents' great hope instead of their great disappointment, and he couldn't help spoiling it a bit.

Max finally settled on a 90s inspired outfit with a bold floral print, paired with chunky jewelry and an oversized watch. He admired himself in the mirror, slicking back his hair and appreciating his flashy fashion sense.

The next thing was to delve into Scout's clothes to find something complementary. Scout's wardrobe was nearly as large as Max's, and far less constrained, since no one expected a pet to be dressed in the latest designer fashion. Max was free to outfit it in thrift store finds and homemade altered goods, soaking up the compliments he received on his picture perfect pet. 

Fashion was his passion, after all. His parents just didn't get it.

His phone was buzzing insistently by the time he finished up with Scout, and so he grabbed a granola bar, clasped Scout's leash on, and dashed out the door to the driver. Scout lay its head in Max's lap in the backseat of the black SUV as Max checked his schedule for the day. He groaned and suppressed the urge to fling his phone out the window when he saw his entire morning would be filled with Economics 300 and Business Negotiations II. 

Screw it, he'd just sleep through those. He could scrape a C no matter what he did, and Cs got degrees.

In the afternoon he had -- ugh, he'd forgotten that mandatory pet testing was today. It was required each year from everyone between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four, designed to make sure the pets occurring naturally in the human population were found and given appropriate treatment. It was, of course, trivially easy to pass if you were a person, but it was over three hours long and insanely dull.

Max had always passed with flying colors, of course. It was ludicrous to even test the heir and scion of the Parkington Corporation, as if he could be a pet, but it was federal law and apparently not possible to buy his way out of it. 

His little brother, the obnoxiously hardworking golden child who could do no wrong in their mother's eyes, had passed his first pet test just last week, and of course their mother had thrown a disproportionate celebration. Max never got a cake and presents for something as silly as passing a pet test, that was for sure, but darling little Robbie was a genius no matter what he did.

Like it was so hard to prove that you're human.

A soft noise stirred Max out of his thoughts. Scout was looking up at him with a concerned expression. "It's all right, boy," Max soothed, running his fingers through his pet's silky hair. "Just gonna be a crap day. You don't have anything to worry about."

The car pulled up to the main building of McKinnon University, just a few blocks away from the Parkington Building her family had donated a few generations back. Fifteen minutes and one purchase of an enormous latte later, Max was dropping off Scout at one of the university's pet lounges. Pets weren't allowed in educational settings, of course, as too much mental stimulation was bad for them. It was a shame, as Max always found it easier to focus with Scout curled at his feet.

"Be a good boy, Scout," he said, ruffling its hair and handing it its favorite plush cow. "I'll be back soon."

Scout leaned into the touch with a dazed smile on its face. Its morning pills always made it drowsy, so Max knew it'd probably sleep most of the morning. They could go out for a walk in the park once Max was done with classes and his test, maybe play some frisbee, get some exercise.

With no small reluctance, Max left his pet behind and trudged to the lecture hall, ignoring the dirty look from the professor as he took his seat ten minutes late.

The classes seemed to drag on forever, as Max floated in and out of sleep, only catching bits and pieces of his professor's droning and powerpoint presentations before his eyes slid shut again. It didn't matter, none of this mattered. His parents' company was mostly run by the board anyway. He'd just let them handle all that shit while he built his fashion empire, his haute couture gracing celebrities at the Met Gala. Clothes that would make waves, clothes that would make people smile, clothes that would make people look good and feel good. What was even the point of being young and rich if he couldn't have fun?

Finally, Max was released from his last morning class, having learned precisely nothing. He had enough time to grab a bite to eat before the pet test, so he picked up Scout from the pet lounge and headed to a campus cafe that made a great quinoa bowl. He needed the protein and greens if he was gonna stay focused during the godawful pet test. 

Since he had a few quiet moments to himself, he pulled out his sketchbook and began drawing out some ideas for a portfolio. Seeing the pet lounge this morning had got him thinking of comfortable and basic looks -- oversized sweaters, leggings, pastels, messy bedhead. Maybe a touch of academia, too, with chunky glasses and pleated skirts. One good thing about campus was that there was never a shortage of people and clothes to draw.

"Hey, Maxie!" Nathan was calling him from clear across the quad, his voice almost as loud as his jacket. He was, unfortunately, one of Max's closest friends since grade school, as their families lived in the same area and they went to the same vacation spots a lot. "Nice outfit. Love the colors."

"Thanks. Love the tiger print."

Nathan laughed. "You hate it, don't even pretend you don't. Hey, Scout." He knelt down to the pet's level as Scout nuzzled against him. "Want some chocolate, boy?"

"Hey, don't feed my pet human food. It's not good for it."

"A little chocolate's not gonna kill it. It's not a dog, you know." Nathan plopped in the chair across from Max as Scout happily munched the chocolate bar. "Whatcha drawing?" He pulled Max's sketchbook from his hands without warning. "Oh, nice. She looks awfully cozy for a stick-thin supermodel."

"That's the idea," said Max, taking his sketchbook back. "I was thinking of the aesthetics behind places like pet lounges and schools and --"

"Excuse me, can I have a moment of your time, please?"

They looked up to see a student with mouse-brown hair and wardrobe to match, clutching a sky-blue clipboard. Max groaned inwardly. A fucking survey or petition or some crap.

"Um, I'm with the Student Ethics for Pets Association..."

Of course it was SEPA. They infested the campus year-round, but they were always out in full force when there was a pet-related event, like the mandatory testing or the annual Pet Festival. 

"I'm not interested," said Max. He agreed with the ethical treatment of pets, obviously, and if that was what SEPA was about, he'd be all for it. But they weren't just against mistreatment of pets, they were against pets entirely, even going so far as to claim that some pets were humans who had been unfairly forced into pet facilities.

"Most pet owners mean well, but they don't know the realities of the cruel tactics facilities use to train pets," she said, trying to push a pamphlet at Max. "Dangerous drug cocktails that result in intelligence and memory loss, brainwashing devices to ensure compliance, restraints that cause permanent joint damage..."

Max couldn't help his blood starting to boil. "I don't know where you think I got my pet from, but it wasn't some cheap pet mill in the slums that tortures pets. Scout lives better than I do. Does it look mistreated to you?" 

"That's not the only problem with pet ownership. There's also the mandatory pet tests. How do we know that people aren't getting caught up in the inhumane pet treatments due to a flawed test?"

"Yeah, right. The pet test is super easy to pass if you're not a pet." Down by his feet, Scout was pressing against his legs, clearly stressed and whimpering. If this kept up, he'd have to Tag Scout, and he hated to do it. "For someone who cares about pet ethics, you sure don't care that you're upsetting my pet."

"All I'm saying is --"

"All I'm saying is get the hell out of here with your propaganda and leave me alone."

"Fine, I can take a hint," she said, turning on her heel and flouncing away. 

Max scowled after her. SEPA was such a ridiculous organization. They would try to reel students in with reasonable-sounding arguments about saving abused pets and then start with their radical bullshit. It happened to gullible students all the time, and they'd go and look like idiots chaining themselves to pet training facilities and showrooms. "Friggin' ridiculous," he said, looking over at Nathan, who was watching the girl leave. "Nathan?"

"Huh? What'd you say?"

"Nathan, you don't actually believe any of that, do you?"

"What, SEPA stuff? Nah, not really," said Nathan, taking a long drink of his soda. "But don't you ever think about it?"

"Think about what?"

"What if the test is wrong sometimes? What if actual people get carted away to some pet facility and treated like a pet?" he said. "Wasn't there that girl who got taken from here a couple years back...?"

"Oh yeah, Victoria... Victoria what's-her-face. Her dad owned some tech startup, right, and it tanked after his daughter turned out to be a pet. That's gotta be super embarrassing for her family."

"Yeah, but... what if it's actually wrong sometimes?"

"You're not seriously worried that you're gonna fail the pet test, are you?" Max laughed. "C'mon, that doesn't happen. That pet probably knew deep down what it was. It was just pretending to be human 'cause it was afraid of getting caught. That's why they need the training and stuff, right?"

"I guess," said Nathan.

"Scout failed its test when it was my age, too," he said. "But, like, it was obviously failing out of college, getting super stressed all the time, crying in class... because it's hard for pets to pretend to be human. Don't you think the other way would be messed up, too, if we forced pets to just pretend to be human forever?"

"Yeah, that would be pretty messed up. They wouldn't be happy like that. I just don't like having to take this stupid test every year."

"Only a couple more years for us and we'll be done with it." Max's phone alarm went off. "Oh damn, we'd better get going if we're going to make it to the test on time. I don't wanna have to take the makeup test." They stood up, but Scout remained on the ground, curled up into a ball and whining. "Scout?"

"Is it okay?"

"It's upset 'cause of that crazy girl from SEPA. You can go on ahead, I've gotta get Scout calmed down," he said. 

"Alright. Good luck on the test." 

"Yeah, you too," he said, as though they needed it. He crouched down to eye level with his pet. "Hey, Scout, what's the matter?"

Scout flinched, shrinking away from Max. That was really strange. He hadn't acted like that with anyone but Max's dad.

"You gotta relax, boy. It's okay. I'm not gonna let some SEPA person liberate you or whatever," he said. "They let pets in the test room, but only if you can be calm. If you can't calm down, I'll have to Tag you."

Max should've know that would only upset Scout more. Scout backed away as best as it could, pulling at the leash, starting to actually cry. Shit. He couldn't leave Scout at the pet lounge like this, either. He didn't have a choice.

"All right, then, Scout, kneel."

Scout shook its head rapidly. "No," it said, almost too quietly to hear.

"C'mon, don't be like that. This is for your own good. Kneel."

It knelt down in front of Max, still teary and whimpering, as Max fished a Tag out of his bag. They were little disposable things that you clipped to a pet's neck that made them real quiet and docile for a few hours, perfect for calming agitated pets. They were also good for situations like vet visits and long flights, since it made the pet unable to form clear memories. Max bet the SEPA girl thought Tags were abusive, too, even though they were literally to help pets not be traumatized. Max normally tried to avoid Tagging Scout much, since he liked his pet to be active and happy.

Scout shut its eyes and bent over slightly so that Max could attach the Tag, a forlorn look on its face as he pressed the little disc just over its spine. "There you go, boy. See, that's not so bad, is it?" He pet Scout gently as the Tag's effects kicked in, its expression going glassy and vacant, a dazed smile replacing its earlier distress.  "C'mon, we gotta get going or we're going to be late."

Max was glad he had resorted to Tagging Scout when the pet curled up safely under his feet in the testing room. It wasn't that Max was nervous about the pet test, but it was boring as hell, and having Scout there helped him focus.

A big portion of it was just a bunch of bullshit psychological questions, which Max breezed through without thinking about them. Then there were questions about current events, word puzzles, a bunch of really weird abstract stuff... but obviously Max was human, so he was sure that his answers must be the right ones. He'd definitely know if he were a pet.

Finally, the test was over, and the entire auditorium of people had to be held there while the tests were scored electronically, so that they could take any pets aside. Max whipped out his phone and fully absorbed himself in his feeds.

"Mr. Parkington."

"Huh?" He looked up to see the test proctor standing by his desk. "Hey, yeah, what's up? Was there a problem with my test or something?"

"Could you come with us, please?" The proctor gestured at the exit door.

"What...?" No, it couldn't be. He couldn't have failed. There was probably some kind of mistake with his form or the grading machine. "Is there a problem?"

"There's no problem," she said curtly. "We just need you to come with us to discuss your test."

Max glanced around the auditorium. Everyone was staring at him, and not in the way he preferred. Well, no wonder. The stupid goddamn proctor was making it sound like he failed his pet test, in front of half the campus. He'd never live this down. "So was my test form unreadable or something...?" he said, hoping to salvage the situation.

She was implacable. "You need to come with us, Mr. Parkington."

He groaned, fighting down the urge to cause an even bigger scene. The people around him were already chattering about it. His parents were going to be absolutely furious about the rumors that would fly, as though it were his fault. They'd sue the school, no doubt, but by then it'd be too late. Goddamn it.

"Fine, let's get this over with. C'mon, Scout." He chucked his phone into his bag and picked it up, tugging Scout's leash. It seemed nervous, resisting a bit, even though there was no way the Tag could've worn off yet, but it followed Max out of the room just the same. They were led out of the auditorium and into a small side office, where there were a couple of cops from the Federal Pet Agency waiting, the ones who had supervised the test taking.

"We have good news for you, Mr. Parkington," said the proctor, taking up a seat behind a metal desk. 

"Good news? What kind of good news could --"

"Your pet test returned positive."

"What? That's it? You humiliated me in front of everyone to tell me that I passed? No shit, of course I'm a person."

The two agents glanced at each other.

"No, Mr. Parkington, I don't think you understand. I mean that we have positively identified you as a pet. You will no longer be required to act as a human, and your treatments can start today." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Isn't that good news?"

"...What?" Max felt as though the floor was dropping out from under him. "What the hell? What are you even talking about?"

"Your treatment can start right away, so if you'll just go with these agents --"

"What the fuck?!" he said, no longer caring about making a scene. Scout whimpered at his feet. "What the fuck are you talking about? Is this a prank? Is this some kind of viral stunt? Because I will definitely sue you to have the video taken down."

"It isn't a prank, and there is no video recording. Your test results are very clear cut."

"The hell they are! I've taken my test every year and I've never failed."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken about that."

"What do you mean by that?"

The proctor sighed and slapped a thick manila envelope onto the desk. "Your previous tests -- your real ones. Each one clearly showing that you are a pet."

"That's impossible! Then why --"

"There's a little known federal program that allows test results to be... deferred."

Max's stomach clenched. "Deferred?"

"It's an expensive option, and not widely publicized, but it allows families to suppress undesirable results for a year, while they get things in order," she said. "In your case, your family spent a great deal of money for seven years to delay the inevitable. However, this year they did not enroll in the program, so this is your final test result."

"No. No, that's not -- you're lying! You're making that up. There's no way. There's no way I failed any pet test, or that my parents paid money to cover it up. No way."

"It's all right," she said in a sickeningly condescending tone. "I know this must be very confusing, and that you've obviously been suffering without your necessary treatment for so long..."

"I'm not suffering!" He slammed his hands on the desk. The agents stepped closer, but the proctor was unfazed.

"Your grades in everything but your fashion drawing classes are --"

"I am not suffering because I'm bad at the business classes my dad forced on me!" Burning with frustration, humiliation, and a growing ember of dread, Max pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Actually, I'm going to call my dad right now. He'll put an end to this."

He was somewhat surprised that no one in the room stopped him from using his phone, until he turned it on and found no signal. "What the -- c'mon, you stupid thing --"

"Your phone service has been terminated," the proctor said. "Your parents have already been contacted by our team. They have been aware of this possibility and have made prior arrangements for you."

"No." Max's throat felt dry and his arms heavy as he dropped the phone. "There's no way. Even my asshole dad wouldn't let me be taken as a pet. I'm the heir --"

Wait.

The realization hit Max with the force of a semi-truck. The heir to Parkington Corporation. With Max out of the way, no longer a person, that heir would be --

His brother. His golden brother Robbie who could never do wrong. If they suffered the temporary humiliation of letting Max be hauled away as a pet, Robbie would be their only child. It wasn't just a matter of writing Max out of the will -- they wanted their un-favorite son to be out of the picture permanently.

Would they really go that far? The serious-looking proctors and agents in the room were a strong indication that they would.

And for the first time, Max felt true fear. This might not be a prank or a misunderstanding or an inconvenience. He might not be able to call his lawyers or his family to get him out of trouble. Even if it was a mistake, if he let them get their hands on him and process him as a pet... could you even come back from that? Wouldn't it be too late?

"I'm not going to let you take me anywhere," he said, inching towards the door. "I'll go borrow a phone and call my lawyer."

One of the agents immediately moved to block the door, unsurprisingly, as the proctor stood up. "As I was saying, your parents were aware of this possibility and have made prior arrangements for you."

"What arrangements?"

"You're going to be sent to the finest pet treatment facility on the Eastern seaboard, one that produces only high-end luxury pets. You're very fortunate."

Max swallowed hard. That sounded like the facility where they had purchased Scout for him. The thought of going through the same treatment as Scout...

That's when he realized that Scout was no longer at his feet. Instead, it was kneeling in front of one of the agents, having its head scratched. "Aww, who's a good boy?" he said. "It's you! Yes, you are..."

"Hey, Scout, what are you doing? Get away from him!"

Scout didn't even respond to him. 

"Don't worry about Scout. We're going to send it to the same facility where we're sending you, for retraining and rehoming. It's a very good pet and I'm sure it'll find an excellent new home."

Scout had been custom trained to Max's childhood tastes. They had grown up together, inseparable. And now Scout was going to have its memories of him wiped, ready to be sent to a new owner...

And he was next.

"Scout. Scout, c'mon," Max pleaded, desperation in his voice. "You're not going with them. You're going with me. C'mon, Scout."

Scout had always been the most docile and agreeable of pets, always listening to Max, following at his heels and coming at his beck and call. And yet now it steadfastly ignored Max as though he were not there.

"Scout!" Max didn't want to go near the agents, so he stood a few feet away from his pet. "Scout, listen!"

Finally, Scout turned and looked at him. It opened its mouth, then closed it again. Finally, it smiled. It wasn't the vacant smile from being Tagged or the excited smile when they went out together or the sleepy smile it had going to bed at night. No, this smile seemed almost... malicious.

"I hope we can play together when you've been trained," Scout said.

Max felt the world spinning around him. Even his pet thought he was a pet. This couldn't be happening, it couldn't.

An agent was approaching him in his daze. "Now be a good boy and come with us."

"No!" He jerked away from the agent's hand. He had to get out of here. He couldn't let them take him. He had to escape, find someone who understood. Maybe that crazy girl from SEPA. Maybe...

"You'll feel so much better once you've been treated," said the agent on the other side of him. "Don't resist."

"Like hell!" Max pulled his arm free of the agent's grasp and tried to barge between them, only to be met with sturdy arms knocking him backwards. While physically fit, he was no fighter and no match for two highly trained federal agents. In a minute he was been forced to his knees with his arms pinned behind his back, restrained. "Let me go!" he screamed as he thrashed. "Let me go right now!"

"The pet is resisting. It'll need to be Tagged," said one agent to the other, who nodded and pulled out an all-too-familiar flat black disc.

"No! No, don't! It's illegal to Tag a person!" said Max, knowing it was futile. 

"This is for your own good." One agent held him down as the other attached the tag. He could feel the cool plastic against his skin and the bite of small needles piercing his skin, a cool and numb sensation as the Tag took hold.

The world blurred around him as a kind of dazed drowsiness took hold of his body. "No... it's not..." he slurred.

His head lolled to the side as the agents hauled him up between them, keeping a firm grip on his arms. A distant part of him still wanted to put up a fight, but he felt so far away... so out of it... so strangely calm and peaceful. He blinked, and he was already out in the hallway. The agents were shooing away the students who tried to crowd around them and shove phones in his face. This was going to be all over social media. His parents would be so mad...

...no, they wouldn't. They knew this was going to happen. There was no one coming to rescue him, not even his dad's money. Max tipped his head forward and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to avoid the crowd's gaze.

"Maxie? Maxie, what the hell? What the hell, man?" said a familiar loud voice. 

"Nathan...?" He could just pick out Nathan's loud jacket in the crowd. "Help..." he said feebly. "I'm not a pet... tell them..."

"Holy shit." Nathan was rooted to the spot. He didn't seem to be moving to help Max at all as he was dragged away.

"Nathan...!"

Nathan pulled out his phone, took a picture, and then disappeared into the crowd.

The agents dragged him through the double glass doors of the auditorium to a black van waiting in the parking lot. Max couldn't find it in him to put up any resistance as he was loaded into the back seat and the doors were closed and locked. His head hit the window as he looked out at his college campus for possibly the last time. 

It felt so unreal. It still felt like something that couldn't possibly be happening to him.

Would he really be turned into a pet...?

No... they'd figure out he was a person before it was too late. They had to.

[little-peril-stories]

AAAAAAHHHHHHH

[maxyartwork]

happy birthday to me🤭

[little-peril-stories]

I turned my whump story into a book!

(Two books, actually. 🤭)

If you ever saw the whump series The Prince of Thieves floating around… well, guess what? It's been transformed into two self published novels!

(Okay, neither of them are actually published yet, but we're getting there.)

Book one, The Mark of Thieves, releases August 27!

Full version beneath the read more. 💙

(Book two doesn't have a release date yet, but it's called The Patron Saint of Scoundrels. Stay tuned!)

Aaaaaaanyway, I'm super excited to be able to share this new, reworked, fully edited story — and its cover! 💙

And if you're wondering: yes, it's still whumpy… even if some of the original whump has been removed or changed.

So if you love historical settings featuring copious amounts of guy whump + lady whump, feel free to give this a reblog, add TMOT to your Goodreads tbr, or just send good vibes my way! 💙 Thanks and have a lovely day!

[experi-sketches]

Rowan and Ash - Chapter One

Hey all! So I'm trying to ease my way back into posting - no promises as to frequency, since there's still a lot going on IRL (work is crazy and my husband is still having health issues) BUT I have this sitting on my computer so I thought I'd share. As mentioned in my previous post, I can't really tease much more from An Iron Blood Tale: Soot and Blood without dropping major spoilers, but I have been pecking at this little side project on those days when I need a break from AIBT, and it's been fun so I figured why not post it. (If you're wondering, AIBT is still my main project, but I won't be ready to start posting anything from that for some time yet.)

This is very much a side project, the premise just popped into my head one day and I started jotting it down. It's whumpy slavefic, so please mind the content warnings. I may eventually start posting this on AO3? But I'm still kinda undecided on that so we'll see! For now I thought I could at least share it here on tumblr. _____ Content warnings: whump, slavefic, m/m master/slave dynamics, captivity & restraints, self-harm, emotional distress, size difference, nudity but nothing nsfw happens Rating: mature Word Count: 2,220

_____

"He did it to himself," Sefton was whining, yet again, as they walked down the hall. "I won't have those ridiculous unfetterates reporting me to the Civil Ministry. I have witnesses. I didn't touch the brat. He simply went mad."

"Yes, you've made that quite clear, Lord Sefton."

"Heavens knows what set him off. I've done nothing but spoil the pet."

"Mm. Slaves can be unpredictable."

"Well, I've never in all my years—nothing like this!"

They came to a closed door towards the end of the hall, plainer than the rest in Sefton's sprawling home, and stopped. "He's in here, then?" Rowan asked, glad to change the subject. It would forever be the worst part of his job, listening to nobles moan about the shortcomings of their bondslaves like it was somehow the property's fault rather than the owner's. A common pitfall in his line of work, of course, but nonetheless exhausting. "Shall we see him? I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle."

"Yes, well. They say you're the best, you and your brother." Sefton produced a metal key from some inner pocket of his fanciful robe, almost comically large. Rowan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I've heard it over and over again: if anyone can knock an unruly slave back into line, it's the Banks brothers. Well, let me tell you, unruly doesn't even begin to describe this one. Undisciplined as all Abyss. And for the price I paid! It's practically criminal. Here we are." He pushed open the door and flipped on the light, revealing a stark, barren room hardly larger than a closet, windowless and clearly used for the express purpose of punishment. The ceiling's florescent bulb bore down on a small, curled figure lying on the ground.  

Based on Sefton's complaints, Rowan had been expecting a thrasher, but instead he found himself looking at a thin, pitiful creature laying soundless on the uncarpeted floor, body rigid with terror. The boy could be no older than twenty-one or twenty-two, though he looked younger, as pleasure pets often did. Sefton had the boy bound within an inch of his life—metal manacles clasped around his ankles and connected by a chain, a thick leather mask strapped over his mouth to gag him, and, perhaps most ridiculously, a saints' bridle around the boy's neck. Saints' bridles were commonly used to control a wild slave by restricting his movements, and this one was no different. The thick metal collar locked around the boy's throat was adorned with two metal wrist cuffs clasped at either side, so that his hands were pinned at his neck, elbows bent. Though Rowan couldn't see it from his position he knew there would be a metal handle welded to the back of the collar as well, perfectly suitable for attaching a leash or simply grabbing and moving an unwilling body. 

It was excessive. Rowan was no stranger to a saints' bridle, having had to use them on a few notable occasions to break an unruly slave—though really that was more Carver's area of expertise—but this boy was so obviously broken already, and he was clearly going nowhere. He'd hardly even reacted to their entrance, except to begin visibly shivering. His eyes, blinking rapidly against the harsh light after laying in pitch dark for Heavens knew how long, stared resolutely into the middle distance, refusing to look at either man standing above him. 

"Hoi, pet! Acknowledge your master when he enters a room!" Sefton let out a long suffering sigh. "Do you see what I mean?"

Rowan bit back a scathing remark about how, exactly, a bound and gagged slave was supposed to acknowledge his master, and stepped into the small room. He moved slowly, standing over the slave to block the harsh light from his eyes, but his proximity only seemed to make the boy shiver harder. "How long has he been like this?"

"Since the doctor left. I wasn't going to take any chances."

"And when was that?"

Sefton sniffed haughtily. "Early this morning. Four, perhaps five or so. I called her in as soon as I realized what he'd done."

Great Saints, it was well after lunch. He'd been bound for eight hours at least. Fucking nobility. "I'll need to examine him."

Sefton made an impatient gesture. "Go on then."

Rowan knelt down in front of the boy. This close, even with the leather gag covering half of his face, it was obvious that the slave was beautiful. He had a boyish, innocent face with fine-boned features and a straight nose, and his coloring was plain but pleasant. Beneath the blotchy flush of fear and pain was pale, smooth skin, with a scattering of faint freckles across his nose, and chestnut curls tumbled about his face, many currently stuck to his temples with cold sweat. His eyes were brown but not overly dark, the sort of color that would look golden in the right sort of light. 

His body, hidden inside in a plain white, shapeless shift, was compact and slim. More of those faint freckles dusted his bare shoulders. He looked, in Rowan's professional opinion, slightly underfed. Dark red marks scorched his wrists and ankles where the manacles had bitten into his skin during the last eight hours, but besides that Rowan saw no obvious signs of injury. The rest, he knew, was hidden somewhere beneath the white shift. 

The boy's hands were shaking where the saints' bridle trapped them at his neck, and his chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, but still he kept his eyes locked forward into the middle distance, refusing to look up at Rowan. 

Completely petrified, then. Rowan sighed. Not a good starting place. It would make his job harder.

"Where exactly are the wounds?" he asked stiffly.

"On his front. Have a look, but I warn you, they're disgusting."

Rowan sighed again. "Right. On your back now, little one," he said, and carefully pushed the boy from his side onto his back, the skin of his shoulder cold and clammy under Rowan's palm. The boy went without resistance, but Rowan earned his first reaction as he touched him—a quick, sharp intake of breath through his nose, and a flinch like he'd been slapped. 

The white shift was knee-length. Rowan lifted the hem and pushed it out of the way. The boy was naked underneath, as expected, and the lithe body was every bit as lovely as his face, smooth skin with only a light dusting of fine body hair, and a pretty cock nestled between his thighs. It was an exceptionally beautiful figure that would have made Rowan enough money to last him an entire year, if not for one jarring, awful flaw. His heart sank.

Over his shoulder, Sefton hissed in revulsion. "It's a fucking shame, I tell you," he said. 

Rowan gaped down at the long, angry gashes that marred the boy's front, two long, bright red wounds that traveled from the bottom of his chest to the soft flesh of his belly, just beneath his ribs. The skin looked like it had been sliced open with a blade. At the tops of the gashes, on his chest, were several small, shallow scrapes, as though it had taken a few tries to work up enough nerve to press the blade in. "Saints in Heaven," Rowan breathed. "He did this to himself?"

"Yes!"

"How?"

"With a kitchen knife. He snuck out of his room in the middle of the night and got his hands on one."

"But—why?" Rowan couldn't keep the sharp edge of accusation from his voice. 

"Saints only know why! I was asleep in bed when it happened, and my wife and staff will attest to that. I had absolutely nothing to do with it. He simply went mad, I tell you."

Yes, I'm sure you had nothing to do with it at all, Rowan thought bitterly, and looked back at the wounds. They'd been cleaned by Sefton's doctor and expertly sealed with clear medical adhesive, but no amount of soothing salves or vanishing ointments would every truly hide them. They would scar, and badly. It was a devastating blow to the boy's value.

"I called the doctor right away," Sefton repeated. "I'm good to my slaves. I keep them fed, bathed, clothed, all their needs met, and can you believe that this is my reward? The little shit is damaged goods—literally, now. Do you have any idea how much he cost? I've only had him six months. I've hardly gotten my money's worth!"

Rowan was watching the boy's face as Sefton ranted. The bleak, thousand-mile stare was slowly melting away, his silent, tenuous composure breaking, chest rising and falling more quickly as his fear rose closer to the surface. Tears started to gather in his eyes, and he blinked them fiercely away.

"It's highway robbery, I tell you, selling head-botched slaves. This morning I called the dealer I purchased him from, and do you know what they told me? That the return period lasted only one month, and if I tried to bring him back now it would be treated as a normal sale. A sale! What in Saint Hyram's name do you think I'd get for him in this state? I hope you have some use for him, Mr. Banks, or else I'll have to take him to one of those dockside fuck-houses in the lower city and hope someone there will offer fifty scolar to take him off my hands. A damned waste of money, he's been—"

"That's quite enough, Lord Sefton," Rowan snapped, and Sefton's mouth clicked shut. He looked a bit surprised to have been barked at, but made no reprising remark, doubtless because he wanted Rowan's money and knew Rowan would offer him more than some drug-slurred fuck-house pimp. 

Rowan yanked the shift down to cover the boy, who was by now choking back quiet sobs behind the leather gag, and stood to his full hight. He was taller than Sefton and used that fact to his advantage, glaring down at him. "You called me here to do business, not cry over financial losses. Tell me, what do you assess the slave's value to be in his current condition?"

Sefton grumbled his annoyances and then they got to bartering.

It didn't take long. Sefton wanted a price far too high for a disfigured pleasure pet, which Rowan made abundantly clear and beat him down to a more reasonable eight hundred scolar. It was still more than he wanted to pay—more than the slave was worth in his current state, certainly—but there was no way in the six Abysses that he was going to leave the boy in this house.

"Go have your man draw up a bill of sale," Rowan said after they shook on it. "I'll be taking the pet with me."

"Bless you, Rowan Banks," Sefton said, though he still sounded a touch sour. "You've no idea what a relief this is." And then he was gone.

The only sound in the small room was the slave's shallow breaths. 

Rowan looked down at him, still splayed on his back exactly as he'd been left, arms trapped beside his head in the saints' bridle. He looked so small and young, so frightened. It was a shame. A boy this beautiful could have been placed with a well-suited master and spoiled rotten until he purred like a kitten. Instead, Sefton had somehow driven him to commit an act of self-violence unlike any Rowan had ever seen.

He knelt down beside the slave again, watching the way the boy looked anywhere but Rowan's face. A fucking same—that was one thing he agreed with Sefton on, at least. This whole mess was a fucking shame, through and through.

Rowan sighed.

"Come on, up you get. You've spent enough time wallowing." Rowan reached for the boy, ignoring the way he flinched when his hands came close, and pulled him up into a sitting position, arranging him so that they were face to face. Once again the slave stayed exactly where he was put, shaking awfully in Rowan's grip, shivering like a reed. 

Rowan studied him more closely this time. The boy kept his eyes, damp with fresh tears, turned down toward his lap. 

"Look at me," Rowan said, gentle and firm. 

The slave exhaled shakily through his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, as though the command had caused him physical pain. His hands tangled into his own curls and clutched tightly. 

"I said look at me," Rowan repeated, a bit more firmly, and touched the boy's chin to lift his face. 

The boy did as he was told this time, looking at Rowan with large, red-rimmed brown eyes, a familiar desperation in them that Rowan had seen many times in the faces of abused slaves, but never in such a way that pulled at his heartstrings so dearly, and he wasn't entirely sure why. As he looked, a single pitiful tear rolled down the boy's check, and he gently brushed it away with his knuckle.

"You belong to me now, sweet boy," he said quietly, "and I'm going to get you out of here."

_____

Thanks for reading! lmk if you liked or if you want to be added to a tag list for future posts.