beauty and courage

Nick Pascal • whump • adult

[nick-pascal]

Claire and Tinsel Masterlist

When an assassin orders a romantic box boy while drunk the world suddenly becomes a whole lot more dangerous for both of them

CW: drug/alcohol usage throughout, some chapters have referenced/implied non-con, check individual chapter tags

Act 1: So You Accidentally Ordered a Pet. . .

1. Sleep

2. Mistake

3. "Look at Me"

4. Warmth

5. Stop

6. Continued

7. Blood on the Floor

8. Can't

Act 2: Come Not Between a Dragon and His Wrath

9. Captured

10. Free Shot

[bloodiedbriars]

royal whumpee after losing their power

forced to become a concubine for the new ruler

using their skills of diplomacy and using words as weapons to try and bargain for better conditions. once whumper realises this, whumpee is beaten harder than ever before.

forced to dress in a mockery of their former royal clothes: cheap royal costumes, maybe from an outdated era

or forced to dress in rags from the beginning

or forced to dress degradingly revealing, kept on a chain by the throne for all to see

traded to a hostile kingdom as part of a peace treaty

the symbols of whumpee's power being repurposed to humiliate them (eg. their scepter being used as a cane to strike them, a crown repurposed to a collar, …)

pushed to their knees before the throne, head pressed to the floor by a hand in their hair, insults hissed into their ear

public punishments

paraded before their former peers and enemies, now degraded to something worth barely more than a stray mutt

a former subject using the opportunity to degrade and humiliate whumpee

a devoted knight, still loyal, taking care of whumpee in secret and protecting them when their treatment goes too far

[xxxprosp3r0neilxxx]

Victor Frankenstein syndrome aka you spent nights over nights crying and bleeding over this work and now that it's finally done you're just like "nvm. it's trash" and go to bed

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

Nonhuman (mostly) whumpee and pretty privileges !

I can't get the idea out of my mind so have this list born from my fever riddled mind:

In rescue centers, cute reef mers being privileged and better treated than deep-sea mers or uglier mers (absolutely unrelated to my current story)

A nonhuman pet whumpee being abandoned in a shelter, knowing that nobody will ever adopt them because they're scarred and/or old, not pretty enough

On the same vibe, nonhuman pet whumpee being even more careful and clingy because they're getting old for their species, losing weight, fur/hair/whatever, and their master only want cute and beautiful pets

At an auction, Whumpee being sold at a very low starting price because they're not pretty enough to be sold to the rich customers (and therefore at the mercy of being bought by any psychopath)

Whumper only taking care of the prettiest pets, lovingly grooming their wings/fur/you know the drill while the others have to do it themselves, dreaming of being treated with so much love and care

Mer whumpee being caught into a net and hurt by humans before eventually being released, causing them to be covered in scars and be rejected by the others because they're too different

Not-seductive-enough vampire struggling to attract humans to feed on

Nonhumans whumpees on display, some of them being praised and fed by the public while the others are mocked and taunted

[nick-pascal]

The vampire one is filling me with all kinds of ideas 👀

[thewhumpyprintingpress]

High Stakes and Bloody Business is open for submissions!

Bring out your vampires! For WPP's fourth anthology, we’re looking for stories that involve vampires. Your vampire(s) can be the whumpee, whumper, and/or caretaker. We will also consider stories about vampire-adjacent creatures such as dhampirs, succubi, etc.

Word Count: Up to 17,500 words

For this anthology, we are looking for stories in the following categories:

Micro-fiction: 250 words or less

Flash fiction: 251-1,000 words

Short Story: 1,001-7,499 words

Novelette: 7,500-17,500 words 

Each author can submit one story per category. So for example, you can submit a short story and a micro fiction but you can’t submit two micro fictions. 

Compensation: ebook contributor’s copy, one free paperback OR $10 USD, and discounts on additional paperbacks

50% of proceeds from the sale of this book will be donated to charity.

Submissions Open: November 1, 2024

Submissions Close: July 31, 2025

Expected Publication Date: October 2025

Submit here!

The Nitty-Gritty (aka more details about submitting)

Simultaneous submissions: Allowed, but let us know immediately if your story is accepted somewhere else.

Multiple Submissions: One per category. So for example, you can submit a short story and a micro fiction but you can’t submit two micro fictions. 

Reprints: Allowed, but please indicate where your story was originally published. This includes if your story was originally posted on AO3 or Tumblr!

Rights: Nonexclusive worldwide English language electronic and print rights. All copyright remains with the author. A simple contract will be provided.

Compensation: One ebook contributor’s copy, one free paperback OR $10 USD, and discounts on additional paperbacks

Submissions are open to residents of any country.

You must be 18 or older to submit.

No explicit torture of children under the age of 13. No sexual content of characters under the age of 18. No torture or sexual content involving non-sentient animals.  

No fanfiction, for legal reasons. No stories generated partly or in whole by artificial intelligence. 

Formatting: Please submit your story as a Microsoft word document with 12pt, Times New Roman font, double-spaced. Indicate scene breaks with ###.  

Edits: Stories will be lightly edited for spelling and grammar. The content of the story will not be changed, and all edits will be sent to you for approval.

[saintsofviolence]

Man I'm in my mermaid/siren/mer/any sea creature whumpee era. If you have any this is your sign to reblog this and infodump me on whatever ones you may have

[wishiwaskidnapped-deactivated20]

[whumpandothercomfort]

Pet whumpee for sale who's been passed by for days because they're so obviously traumatized. Nobody appreciates a pet who flinches and whimpers upon being touched. What's the point?

Except Carewhumper, who's been looking for this exact thing. Carewhumper embracing Whumpee and holding them close even as their breath hitches in panic, gently stroking their hair. Carewhumper murmurs so gently to them as they tremble.

"There, see? It's not so bad. It's not so bad, is it? Shh, shh... it's all right. Look at you, you're so pretty. Shh. It's all right. You want to be good for me, don't you? I'm going to take such good care of you."

[nick-pascal]

I'm really sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you were going to write any more of Claire and Tinsel's story? I just read everything on the masterlist on my lunch break and I'm so invested!! Thank you so much for sharing it online ❤️

Oh my word, thank you!

I'm working eight hours a day, seven days a week just now lol but yes, I have been working on some ideas to continue their adventures--it might be a few months before I find the time though

It means so much that people are still enjoying it 💛

[annablogsposts]

Whump idea: hundreds of years ago, peasants revolt against the upper class. A knight / noble / lord / prince was abducted, and was pretty much just an absolute punching bag for all of them. To the point where he’s just broken.

A farmer, or laborer or something, sees him and is just like “this is too far” and discreetly cares for him; giving him lots of water, giving him extra porridge, letting him sleep inside when no one is looking etc.

and the noble is initially distrustful after all he’s been through, but soon he becomes insanely grateful and feels indebted to him for this.

If anyone would like to write this, please do!! I’d love to read it :)

[corpses-and-vampires]

[whump-world]

1 - he was eaten raw

SUMMARY when arohe was ten, their mother went insane and attempted treason on the king, forcing arohe to run away from the royal household and go into hiding. years later, they're caught in a snare and cannot hide their true form from the present king. everyone covets a fox spirit. lord seneca, with a rapidly growing empire, is not about to let his treasure slip.

nsfwhumptober2023 day 1: anything i like!

TW: nothing much! burns, forced transformation, manhandling, noncon touch, future mention of noncon

Arohe should have stuck to their strategy: keep moving. Doesn't matter if you like the mountain, if you know the routes, each bird's call, and the direction of the wind of every moment by heart. For example, the tiger lilies in this area are the prettiest orange, only second to the evening sun going to bed. Doesn't matter. Keep moving.

This is what happens when they stop. They're left hissing on all fours as soldiers keep swarming into the valley. Poachers and hunters are easy to handle. They don't have binding threads that can trap spirits. Arohe's claws swipe at the net on top of their body, pinning them to the ground. It burns.

They've never had first-hand experience of it.

A fellow spirit (Arohe can smell it) comes through the mass, the armor moving like muscle instead of the pack of dead weight it is on others. Once the helmet is removed, it's clear who it is, and should have been from the start. They put it down to the threads weighing them down and squashing the world into a small space. Or Arohe is just in denial about their utterly terrible luck.

It's the emperor.

"Take off your glamour. It's only costing you energy," the emperor says.

"I'm just a humble subject. There's no glamour I'm capable of. Please let me go. You have the wrong spirit."

Arohe is kicked to the ground. Their jaw falls on a rock, sending pangs of white pain across their face. By the time they're able to blink their eyes open, someone has settled their boot on their back. With the nets eating their skin, gnawing the power out of their body, they let out a pained cry.

Arohe and Seneca used to play in the same garden. There are no scars on Seneca's dark skin, and his hair is sweaty, yet pulled back, leaving only tufts of hair on the sides of his face and a short plait on his shoulder. Arohe's hair is no longer a vibrant red, more of an unsightly mix of brown. Their clothes are grubby to the touch. After all, only one of them got to stay in the garden.

"You're stronger than I thought. No matter. I know who you are."

"A humble servant—"

"Stop your honeyed words. Servant you are. Humble, hm, we'll find out. As the sole child of a traitor, do you plead guilty?" Seneca asks, looking down at them.

Arohe finds that their head weighs a lot more than they initially thought. Even so, they draw their gaze up at Seneca and make their eyes go round.

"What traitor?"

The corner of Seneca's lips broaden.

"Your Highness, they pose a danger to the royal family as long as they live. Your father—"

"My father couldn't use an opportunity even if it was handed to him on his breakfast tray. You'd be wise to hold your tongue." He glares at the soldier. When everyone falls silent, he nods to himself and crouches down. "I don't intend to kill you."

"I won't be of harm to anyone. I swear."

Seneca throws his head back and laughs. "No. My father might have been afraid of your... measly chakra, but I'm not. You will live in my charge. Won't that be grand?"

"Your highness, I can't accept. I'm only a... I'm only a..."

"When's the last time you've had a dinner that's not wild berries, Arohe?"

They stiffen. Their name. Seneca remembers.

They remove their glamour. The soldiers shift back when the fox's ears and eyes come into view.

Arohe growls. They could rip out each and every one of their hearts if not for the net. "What the hell do you want, Seneca?"

"Well, hello. That's the Arohe I remember."

There's simply no getting out of this, they realize, watching the emperor's pleased smile, like a hunter who finally caught his prey.

The soldier pinning them down, puts his whole weight on Arohe and clicks something onto their neck. It's a heavy metal that itched and rubbed the same way the binding threads did. Arohe groaned, hesitating to touch it but also wanting to rip it off.

The net is removed. They're not stupid enough to attack. It's alarming. If Seneca deems it safe enough to take off the net, that must mean the collar must have some kind of control. Arohe can't do anything about it, because their body is still exhausted from the attack. They lie still as Seneca approaches.

When he picks up their chin in his palm, it's almost gentle.

"Do you know what they call your kind in some lands? The jewel of spirits."

Arohe cringes as their hair is peeled away from their face. Seneca's gaze is intent. It makes them feel... they shudder.

"From the moment I lay eyes on you, I knew you were my treasure."

[cyberwhumper]

Parroting.

Please read from right to left!

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump // @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question // @dokidokisadness // @moss-tombstone // @kinderlamb // @maracujatangerine // @pinkraindropsfell // @writereleaserepeat // @blood-and-regrets // @littlespacecastle // @snakebites-and-ink // @unforgiven235 // @lonesome--hunter // @atomicsandwichprince //

If you’re interested in being added to the tag list, please let me know!

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee’s tied down in a hospital gown gagged and blindfolded. 

The gag is so they don’t bite.

The blindfold is so no one has to look into their eyes when they run unethical experiments.

Besides, they’re here for the science, not torture. They had the stomach for blood but not for the crying.

[nick-pascal]

TW: blood

Whumpee is gathering up the scraps of themself off the floor, fingers shaking, tears pooling at the corners of their eyes, when they hear the door creak.

It was supposed to be over. For today. For a moment at least, the attention was supposed to be off them. The sounds of the party are still echoing from somewhere else in the house. The blood hasn't even dried yet.

A sob amost escapes and whumpee has to bite their lips, squint their eyes to keep from crying.

"S-sorry, I was, I thought--" No, they weren't supposed to think. Bad. Another choked sob. They should have just stayed where they were put.

And Caretaker stands in the doorway, heart pounding in their ears. Whumper's not a friend exactly, they wouldn't want to get on their bad side but--once Whumpees red, tear swamped eyes meet theirs it isn't a choice anymore.

[whumblr]

Playing house

"Did you enjoy your time with them?" Whumper asked, standing behind them with his hands on their shoulders. "Playing house?"

Whumpee didn't say a thing.

"You must've known it couldn't last," Whumper pressed, softly stroking the nape of their neck, curling a finger through their hair. "And even if you refused to see reality, they must have known."

A soft sound escaped in the back of Whumpee's throat. Yes, they had enjoyed their time with the team. They had nursed them back to health, they were kind and concerned, and gave them a place with them, unconditionally. But something always nagged in the back of their mind: they didn't belong there.

Whumper sat down next to them on the couch, nudging them along to sit in his lap. Which they did, reluctantly. Gentle hands molded them to a lazy position, back resting against the armrest, legs sprawled over his.

"This is where you belong," he whispered, lips brushing their cheek. A small drop of salt caught against them and Whumpee felt a smile forming.

"They'll... they'll come back for me," they hiccupped and tilted their head away, leaning against his chest.

"Oh, darling," he said, actual sympathy in his voice. "I don't think they will." He shifted them up a little, stretching his legs out under them and pressing them higher up against his shoulder.

"You were just a stray. You weren’t a member of the team. No matter how hard you tried. Your insistence must have annoyed them so much. I know how desperate you can be. It can be... overbearing. They must be glad that you're gone." He brushed a tear away. "Now, I am very happy to have you back."

Tears now streamed silently down their trembling chin.

"It's okay. They just don't understand, baby. Did they think you were just desperate to please? To earn your place among them? Always doing whatever they said as gratitude for taking you in?"

Whumpee shook their head in denial.

Whereas Whumper just smiled above them, twisting the knife with every word he spoke. "No, you’re right. It wasn’t in gratitude, now was it? It was fear. Pure fear that they would send you away if you didn’t. Punish you if you didn’t. You may think that being away from me sets you free but… well, I think this was a valuable lesson.”

"You're the one who is playing house," Whumpee muttered darkly, the earlier words still stung.

"What was that?"

They flinched at the sudden hard shift in tone, but looked up and repeated their words. "It's true. You want me to be your puppet in your dollhouse, caught in your strings. Forcing me to do as you say, behave as you say. You can't keep me here forever."

“And who do you think will keep me from doing just that? Your band of heroes?” he sneered, his smug words turning mocking.

"They saved m--"

"They found you. Just a chance meeting snooping around my compound. And not finding anything useful, they decided to take you with them, hoping to use you, see what they could learn from you. And you gave them nothing but trouble. They won’t come back for you.”

Whumpee opened their mouth to retort the harsh words, but a single finger on their chin shut them up. His finger moved over their lips in a shushing gesture and Whumper continued in a more morose tone:

“Stealing from me and now they have the gall to return damaged goods.”

“Wha—?” Whumpee looked up at those words, hurt and confused. “Damaged? What do you mean damaged? They didn’t hurt me!”

“A few weeks with them and suddenly you’re talking back.”

He shoved their legs aside and let them fall back against the couch as he roughly stood and walked across the room. “All that time and effort… and now I have to start all over again.” He rummaged about and when he turned, Whumpee froze when they saw he was holding a whip.

“But we both know we’ll get back to where we were…” He let the tip of the whip fall to the ground. “Easily.”

-

Tag: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @painsandconfusion

[nick-pascal]

This gives me such "Worthless" series vibes @livelaughwhump ahhhgggg I love it <3

[nick-pascal]

Arrival

A new year, a new challange, a new series.

And yes, while I'm doing the year of whump challange, I haven't forgotten Claire and Tinsel, or even my ao3 work in progress (shuts door on an indignant Candy and Terrel--shhhh). They'll get updates. Promise. But for now, I'm indulging myself with a fantasy that's been bouncing around my brain for a while.

It's been a while and I was never good at tagging CW's to begin with, so please let me know if there's anything I missed <3

CWs: Captivity, restraints, (mild?) stoning, humiliation, dehumanization, repressing emotions

This is Marique, the citadel of kings. Behind it rise the obsidian cliffs, shimmering black in the afternoon sun and reflecting off the still surface of the spring lake that laps at the base of Marique's walls. There is only one way in, or out, of Marique this time of year, the curved dyke that follows the lakeside in a lazy crescent.

Today it is crowded with villagers pressed alongside the road for a glimpse of the procession, women waving pink and orange handkerchiefs out of the windows of their cliffside homes, mud-splashed children wading through the lakeside to point at the banners carried by knights in parade armor. Some of the people have broken into song, others stand in silence as the bones of those who have fallen return home for the last time. The victory parade was not cheaply bought.

A cheer rises as the prince passes, only seventeen, with the whites of his eyes flashing. Three shouts for the man of the day! Three cheers for his mother, still on the throne. His warden joins the cheer for the queen, parade etiquette preventing him from giving the prince anything more than a firm pat on the back. Although they both ride shoulder to shoulder, the day is the prince's, the royal's pink cape covering little of his polished, jet-black armor. The warden fades into the background, a dark velvet and leather shadow of the prince.

The noise starts up again, this time a cacophony of boos and laughter. There is a cage on the back of a cart, but the wooden bars do little to block the mud and garbage thrown its way. The boy inside, he looks all his twenty-two years yet also more a boy than ever, flinches as something especially large ricochets off the cage.

He's determined to sit up straight. He's forced to kneel, by his ankles cuffed directly to the cart, his hands are forced together behind his back by a short chain, but he can sit straight. Something hits the cart again, but not before it hits him first, and Finnian's breath is knocked out of him.

They're throwing rocks. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but Finnian feels his chest tighten all the same. When the next stone rattles off his prison bars, his head ducks, shoulders tightening in anticipation of the blow. Finnian bites his lips, he's got to sit up straight. Like a prince.

His breath is coming faster now, and this time his head slumps when a sharp blow rattles through it. Finnian doesn't lose consciousness, he doesn't think, but there are spots of light and dark and something wet on his cheek--blood, or tears, probably both--by the time he comes back to himself enough to hear.

"Oh come on now," that's the prince's voice speaking, the real prince. "Let them have their fun,"

"He can't die before he even gets to the castle, my liege," the warden says.

"Tell him that, not me," the prince says.

The crowd responds with laughter, and Finnian blinks as a shadow falls across the cart.

"You still with us?" The warden says.

"S-sorry," Finnian says. He wavers as he sits up again, forcing his back rigid and staring straight ahead. "Sir. Sorry, sir. Yes. And, and apologies, to my liege."

There is laughter at that, and someone lakeside throws a handful more mud. Most of it hits its target, plastering Finnian's thin undershirt to his skin, but some misses and splatters against the warden's cape. A silence falls, and the wading group of children still, looking up the bank with wide eyes. With a firm click of his heels the warden returns to his place in the procession, leaving the group to scold each other and begin throwing mud amongst themselves.

Finnian is shaking when they reach the castle gates, and not all from cold. He balls his hands into fists to hide it, and tightens his jaw, but now the villagers have given way to soldiers standing stiff and at attention. A silence falls on the courtyard as the procession halts, everyone finding their place in a practiced formation, with the prince, and his prize prisoner, at the center.

There is a great clang as the doors to the citadel fall open, twelve feet high and wrapped in wrought iron ivy. Finnian barely flinches at the noise, trying to will his eyes to unfocus. Whatever comes next, it'll be better if he's composed, emotionless. He's learned that much at least. And he's learned it won't be enough. A new court, a new set of rules, he's not allowed to be a prince here--but then again, he can be just another prisoner, can he?

Prince or not, they won't want him crying, he thinks, staring straight ahead and willing the wind to whip his eyes dry.