#oc emory

[ashamedart]

currently foaming at the mouth. go my lesbians

scale is off but I dunot care :]

[whumpwillow]

Verticordious | Arc I part I

here’s the something new I’ve been working on 👀

Summary: A captured prince ends up in the hands of an enemy kingdom determined to use him to expose secrets of the royal family. Of course, they’ll have to get the information out of him for that, and the king has employed his personal dungeon torturer for the mission. 

warnings: (for this piece) captivity, implied future torture, whumper pov, collared and leashed, chained up, this one is pretty tame but it gets worse as the story continues 

//

Zane looked down upon the sleeping form in the dungeon cell. He observed the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest, the faint whisper of breath that blew a few strands of blonde hair from his unmarred face. He was a blank canvas, just a pure body without a single blemish having come from Zane’s own hands.

He knelt down in front of the man. He’d been told his name was Emory, but that didn’t matter, not as much as all the ideas rushing through his mind about what to do with him. Emory was shackled at one ankle to the far wall with a long chain that gave him access to most of the cell except for a few feet close to the door. His hands were unbound, yet Zane had taken to putting a blindfold over his eyes. The man would rip it off, surely, as they always did when they first awoke, but it was the initial shock that mattered to him.

Any moment now.

Zane waited until Emory stirred and woke of his own accord, keeping to the precious illusion that all was well for just a moment longer. He heard Emory gasp, inhale, and his hands went immediately to his face. His fingers brushed over the cloth for a few seconds, and upon realizing what it was, he tore the blindfold off.

Zane smiled down at him.

“Mornin,’” he said.

Emory shuffled backward on the cold stone floors, his eyes at once locked on Zane’s but skirting around the periphery to catch sight of the room he was now trapped in. Like he wanted to know where he’d been taken but he didn’t want to stop watching Zane as if he were a predator ready to strike.

Perhaps that was true.

“Where am I?” Emory asked.

He patted down his chest and then hips, searching for a weapon. They’d all been removed from him before entering, as well as the outermost of his clothes, leaving him with just his shirt and slacks. If Zane was feeling merciful, he might give the poor thing some slippers.

But he was rarely in that kind of mood.

“The dungeon,” Zane replied casually. “Where else?”

Emory swallowed nervously and settled his hands on his knees. Zane saw them starting to shake even as Emory was clearly willing them not to. His smile grew wider.

“You should be thanking me, really. I let you sleep after that whole…” he waved a hand in the air in a noncommittal gesture. “…ordeal. You seemed tired.”

While Zane spoke, Emory had discovered the chain around his ankle and began tugging on it to no avail. He looked idiotic, sitting there and weakly pulling on a thick metal chain as if that was going to do anything at all, but then again, they always tried something at the start. Zane was used to it by now. He was, admittedly, rather bored with the usual methods as of late and wanted to try some new concepts on this newest acquisition.

Emory’s head snapped up the moment he realized he wasn’t going to escape merely by brute strength of destroying a chain with bare hands.

“Let me go!” he shouted, fire in his eyes.

Zane scoffed. “Not on your life.”

Emory growled and lunged, causing Zane to stand up from where he knelt and jump back toward the door. Emory’s chain pulled taut and rattled, catching him from going any further. He fell forward onto the stone floor with a loud slap, his jaw taking a good bit of the impact. He was still after that, shutting his eyes tight and not making a sound.

Zane laughed, low and breathy. The thing could hurt himself just fine without Zane’s involvement, so this was going to be very fun indeed.

He leaned back against the door, waiting for Emory to collect himself. When he did, he sat up and rubbed his chin.

“What do you want from me? Money? Power?” he asked.

Zane peeled away from the wall and took a step forward. “Information.”

Emory’s eyes flicked up to Zane’s own, seen through mussed bangs. “On what?”

Zane rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. “I’m sure you know.”

There’s no way he wouldn’t. Zane had been ordered to get information from Emory, and until that knowledge came to light, there was no way the captive was getting out of here. Well, not that he was, but he’d have a much easier time here if he did.

But where was the fun in that?

Zane dug into his satchel and removed a metal collar and leash. He held it up while giving Emory the most shit-eating grin, just to admire the shocked reaction to the thing. That expression quickly morphed into anger and reticence, but it wasn’t like Emory had any choice in the matter.

“Look what I got,” Zane said.

Emory’s hands clenched into fists. “You are not putting that on me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, but I am.”

Emory backed away while still glaring fiercely at Zane from his position down on the floor. He could have stood if he liked, given the chain allowed him the freedom of movement, but Zane supposed he was too terrified to think of that as an option. Hm.

“Is this because you want me to betray my family’s secrets?” Emory asked, an edge to his voice. “Because I won’t.”

Zane shook his head slowly, taking methodical steps forward in time with the movement. “No, no, it isn’t that. This,” he wiggled the leash in the air. “Is because His Majesty wants to make a show out of you.”

That put a bit of anxiety into the boy, who now looked downright queasy at the mention of the enemy king. He gulped, drawing back, but hit the wall. His breath hitched, a quick rise and fall of his chest. His motions were so jerky and tense, while Zane was unbothered. Cool. Calculated. As to be expected of the king’s personal dungeon torturer.

He stood with his toes just before Emory’s knees. Looking down on him from above, he could see the expressions warring on his face between wanting to look tough and hide his fear but being unable to stomach the possibilities of what was to come. And Zane hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet.

“Now, come with me. Let’s go for a walk, shall we? I’m sure you’re just dying to get out of here.”

—

Also! If this gets to 50 notes by tomorrow, I’ll post the next part of Hazeshift

[ashamedart]

funny how I never post anything here until I get THE URGE anyways

This is Mallory, she's 18, around 5'8, black hair, purple eyes, other things I wont tell you

And this is Emory, they're kind of technically 19 or 20, not elaborating, and they are 28 feet tall heeheeheeeee, pink hair, blue eyes

I've had these two cooking in my brain for years and I'm glad I finally feel confident enough and obsessed enough to draw them may or may not digitalize + color these at some point

[whumpwillow]

Verticordious masterlist

Description: An innocent royal prince is captured by the enemy side and tortured for information in the castle dungeon. 

Content: royal whumpee, other stuff that’s a secret 

warnings for the series: torture, gore, captivity, unhealthy coping mechanisms, touch aversion / haphephobia, public and private humiliation, dehumanization, violence

individual content warnings on each piece

—

continuous storyline

Arc I

Part 1: arrival 

Part 2: failed escape attempt

—

asides: 

—

picrews:

all, Emory, Zane, 

—

other: 

more to come...

[whumpwillow]

whump oc: Emory

one (1) captured prince

pre-capture and post-capture

[whumpwillow]

wij day 10

Day 10: share a snippet from something you’re working on

—

“I order you to let me go!” Emory shouted.

Zane pivoted on the ball of his foot and looked at Emory with something that could have been described as pity on anyone else’s face. He dipped into a mock bow.

“You must know that you hold no power over me, Your Highness.”

Lightning flashed.

“Very few people do, anymore.”

—

“Imagine what I can do to you with this,” Zane asked in a low, breathy tone.

He leaned in far too close and tilted his head. Emory strengthened his resolve and steeled his expression.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Zane gave him a look that was almost pitying. “Then why are you shaking?”

—

this is two snippets but oh well 🤷🏻‍♀️

[bitter-grin]

To my ST who isn't on here, you have made an error letting me play a Nuwisha. Emory is your biggest hater and the pack's biggest hater. He hopes they all drown in this Honda Civic.