A Whumpy Unicorn

Hey, call me 🦄 or Zee,

[unicornscotty]

MASTER LIST OF MASTER LIST'S!

Hi, I'm unicorn. You can call me that, or Zee. Pronouns are she/her Please enjoy your stay on my blog.

Massive thanks to the amazing Foster. (@milk-carton-whump) aka🥛 for my icon

Back up blog: @zeewbee

If you struggle to read the colours for the blurbs and TWs just send an ask or DM and I'll send it to you in a white/black, its no problem I'd just copy and paste. :)

Hope you like my stuff.

Government story (not currently updating)

Ships And Palaces

Modern AU ⤴️

Baby boi Alex I love them so so much. They are a pirate, their father who physically, verbally and emotionally abused them all their life, and to whomm they are trying to prove themselves to him, because they still admire their father. Tries to survive a year alone this is their third attempt, but it all turns to chaos, when the ship they try to sneak away on, is already in the middle of being taken by a monarch loving pretty boy, who seems to have a rich daddy, by the name of Augustus Tartal.

Modern AU of the story above, but with @milk-carton-whump 's Ritz and Percy in the mix, Alex also has a young sister, who they need to look after, their life starts looking up when they meet Oxford undergrad law student. Augustus (Eddie) Tartal. (Lots of these chapters are written by @milk-carton-whump )

Abyss In The Promised Land.

(collab w/ @milk-carton-whump )

Star And Stunt.

This is the story of an Angel and Demon who are captured together by 2 humans 1 wishing to futher his research and do experiments on them. But they both want to reavel them to the human world and that is something neither the Angel, the Demon nor their homes want. Two beings who hate each other by pure instinct, who feel physically repulsed, often to a painful extent to be around each other, have to work together to survive.

(Collab w/ @sideblogformindtrash )

Elementals

Human pets and identical twins. An up and coming director spots them at the pound and realises it is perfect for his career, he has the more talkative one, a pet who can be trained to act in his movie for free and the timid one a stunt double that can be hidden from the world without need of all the safety precautions they can make the stunts look real.

Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Big thanks to @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi for the inspiration for this story.

Eye On The Prize

Story With Aliens (Great name, right?)

Collab w/ @the-blind-one-speaks

When Alex the pirate finds themselves in an unknown land, far from home, but at least safe from the hangman's noose. They bump into a strange man, who they can not read, they're usually so good at understanding what people want but this one... who calls himself 'the eye' Alex has no clue what he wants with them but they're left with no choice but to follow him.

How To Train Your Elf

[quietwingsinthesky]

what’s the point of giving your character severe trauma if it doesn’t make them an asshole to work with. not in a cute way. they should be a fucking cunt. they have to make problems on purpose. they have to lash out at their friends without even being provoked, just because they’re having a bad day and they want to hurt someone to cope with it. on purpose. they have to want to hurt someone on purpose. they can regret it later, but they can’t just say something mean on accident, it has to be calculated and cruel and so, so intentional.

[hot-rangers-in-chains]

For His Kingdom

A bit of a drabble from my imagination for whump-y enjoyment (Masterlist)

Content: forcefully stripped (not full nudity) , manhandling, whipping, gagged, royal whumpee

The enemy had a reputation for absolute devastation. The land would be left intact but the people… women and children dragged off as slaves, to the mines or worse, and men forced into the army or to the navy as galley slaves. The young king’s land was their next conquest. 

They were a small nation, with a powerful port and good relations with their neighbors. Until the empire decided they must control all this region, there was not a threat of war, and now one by one allies began to fall in brutal onslaughts. But the empire had not counted on the small country’s spirit. The shores they dwelt upon were not friendly. Nearly every other year new houses must be built after hurricanes ripped through. 

When the enemy came, the response, then, was unexpected. Whole villages on the outskirts poisoned their own wells, fighting until all were slain and still decimating the attackers when they thought they’d won. Fields were salted, livestock slaughtered in a last feast as the enemy army approached. 

The young king sent an emissary under flag of truce to the general. 

For the first time in the empire’s onslaught, a peace treaty was negotiated. The small nation would maintain its sovereignty but pay a reasonable tithe to the emperor, and the taxes of their port would be diminished for the empire’s vessels. It galled the general to agree to such, but a country empty of people and unable to grow anything had far less value. The one stipulation: the country would have a new ruler placed on the throne, and the king would surrender himself, understanding that any rescue or escape would void the treaty. 

The day of the proclamation dawned. The young king had selected his successor: not a noble, but a man who had long run the palace with wisdom and care. He dressed himself simply for his abdication, a white tunic and plain trousers beneath his royal robe. At the appointed hour, he climbed the dais in the square of the capital, flanked by his chosen successor and the enemy general. 

To one side stood two wooden posts, erected in the night. He swallowed hard as he passed them, but forced his gaze forwards as he addressed the gathered crowd.

“My people, you know it brings me much grief to leave you, yet I trust that this man will serve you well as he has served my household. You have all shown great bravery. The empire has great might and we will pay the emperor his dues, but we will not be slaves. You will not. I bid you farewell and pray that you continue as you have always done, in the quiet strength of our land, no matter what winds blow.”

He stepped back, turned to his successor. He removed his own crown and placed it on the man’s head, followed by the royal robes around the new king’s shoulders. He dropped to one knee before him. The new king swallowed and stepped to address the people. 

“I swear to serve you well, with all that I am, and to honor our beloved former king, whose sacrifice honors us all and has saved our land. I do not know what all may come, but we will stand.”

With that, the new king stepped aside for the general to speak. The general’s face was dark with anger and his words clipped.

“Honeyed words have been spoken, but I will warn you: if you do not honor the terms of this truce, your defiance will reap worse than you may have faced without this truce.” He made a gesture to his guards. “My men and I shall return to the emperor in two days’ time, but let us leave you with an example of what will happen to any who defy us or attempt to rebel against this truce.”

The guards roughly grabbed the young king’s arms. He swallowed but allowed them to force him to his knees. A sharp point of cold iron scraped over his ribs, only barely scratching them, then his tunic was torn from him. His trousers and boots, too, were roughly removed, leaving him shivering in only his braies. Before he could do anything, a torn piece of the tunic was shoved in his mouth and tied behind his head, and he was dragged to the posts.

Cold iron was clapped around his wrists and large nails hammered through the iron rings of the short chains, spreading his arms wide between the posts as he knelt between them. 

He clenched his jaw. His people were watching, he had to stay strong. Could not show fear. He waited for a blow to end his life, praying it would be swift at least.

Crack!

A line of searing pain burned across his back. 

Oh. It was to be a beating first, then.

Crack! Crack!

Another, and another. Each preceded by a crack at which he could not but involuntarily flinch. 

Crack!

His hands wrapped around the short chains, the cold digging into his palms as a brief and insufficient distraction from the bite of the whip. 

Crack!

He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw against the gag.

Crack!

The whip’s tip carved across the previous lashes.

Crack!

His back was on fire.

Crack!

Blood trickled down his side.

Crack!

His body bucked in pain, arching away from the whip.

Crack!

All pretense of calm was gone.

Crack!

He screamed against the gag. All was blinding pain, his vision white with agony.

The beating continued until his throat was raw from muffled screams. Blood trickled from his wrists now where they had pulled against the chains. By the end, he hung limp. 

They left him alive.

At some point during the night, someone from the city snuck onto the platform and applied a salve to his wounds. The cool balm helped, yet he could not help wondering if this would only prolong his agony, if he was meant to die of festering wounds or loss of blood. 

The next day dragged on, and on, and on. 

People went about their business. Many tried not to look at him. Others looked at him with pity, but with bowed heads of respect. 

His arms ached. He tried to stand, but the movement of the attempt pulled at the gashes lacing his back and he nearly fainted. His knees hurt. His mouth was dry from the gag. 

The second day ended. 

The day of the general’s departure dawned. 

He looked up as soldiers’ boots thudded on the platform, approaching him. Weary, aching, he bowed his head and waited for death once again.

Once again it did not come. 

Keys clinked in the locks of the manacles and his arms dropped painfully to his sides. Roughly, he was hauled to his feet and dragged off the dais. His hands were lashed together with a rope in front of him and its other end was tied to the general’s pommel. The general sneered at his confusion.

“You didn’t think you’d have it that easy, did you, boy? You’re to be a trophy for the emperor, after all.”

As the army caravan left the city, he was forced to stumble along on bare feet after them.

Why couldn’t they have let him die?

[mepnuu]

"It's ok, babe" telegram twitter

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi!! If you feel like it, would you mind writing about the hero realizing that their sister has unknowingly been dating the villain?? And the villain taunts the hero by showing public displays of affection with the sister and the hero can’t do anything about it since the villain has the sister’s trust

The fact was, Meg had told her sister that she was dating the villain several times before, each time with equal worry and certainty. 

That, she realised now, had long since been the trap. Poisonous breadcrumbs set for - how long? Since she’d first heard of the villain? Before she even knew for sure what the bastard looked like? Cold crept down her spine. 

She knew now. She knew, and now was when the villain smiled politely across the garden, one arm looped a fraction too low around Ella’s waist. 

“This is Tomas,” she said. “Tomas, my sister - Meg.”

“So nice to finally meet you,” the villain replied, and held out a hand. 

Meg shook numbly, because they were in the middle of her parent’s garden party and driving away another of her sister’s ‘suitors’ might mean that her mother killed her before the villain ever had to. It felt like the ground was opening up beneath her feet. 

“Pleasure’s all mine.” If her voice came out a bit raspy, everyone already thought her a little weird. The family eccentric who was always late, or bleeding, or in the middle of some kind of ‘madcap scheme’. Never mind that all of those things had ended up with wild excuses for something that wasn’t ‘hello family, you know those people with superpowers who you don’t like? Yes, I am one of them.’ 

The small talk buzzed around Meg’s ears. Her gaze locked on the villain’s hand, stroking boldly at a slither of skin just above Ella’s hip. She watched as the villain grinned and whispered in Ella’s ear, making her blush, and the two of them exchanged glances as if they were completely smitten. 

Because Ella was smitten, wasn’t she?

Meg had been hearing stories about Tomas for months; it was a whole saga, friends first, real fucking dedicated. Time long enough for Ella to trust Tomas, to be invested in him. 

It hit Meg with a dawning horror that there was absolutely no way that her sister would believe her. Ella had the first time, of course. She’d been less willing to accept the hero’s word the second time, but done so, and by the third time Meg may as well have been the boy who cried for wolf for how likely it was that her sister would believe her about the wolf curled up in her bed. 

She didn’t trust Meg anymore. 

Meg could have started yelling, sure - but all it would do was turn them all against her, wouldn’t it? She would be ‘ruining the mood’, and they would all rush to defend Tomas’s honour from Meg’s unnecessary-‘clearly she’s jealous’ bitchiness. 

So she sipped her drink too fast and didn’t eat her favourite sausage rolls, and all in all did absolutely nothing.

The villain’s eyes met Meg’s several times over the course of the conversations that followed; his always twinkling with some dark mischief, something conspiring, like the two of them were in on some grand old secret with each other that nobody knew about. 

It would be so easy for him to kill everyone, and so Meg couldn’t leave either. How could she leave? She didn’t know what the villain would do. What Tomas did was pull Ella into his lap, what he did was kiss her cheek when he topped up the drinks, what he did was charm Meg’s parents better than she ever did and slide like a perfect snake into their intimacy and affections. 

They all just bloody well loved him, didn’t they? Why couldn’t Meg bring home such a nice young man also? 

In the end, she retreated. Mostly because she prayed that she knew him well enough to know he’d have to gloat, have to follow. Maybe Ella, maybe anyone, would hear them and Meg’s secret would be completely screwed but hey at least her sister would be safe. At least his secret would be blown too. 

But then if his secret was blown there was nothing to stop the bloodshed. 

And Meg cycled back to the start. 

She rested her head against the window of her childhood bedroom and tried to remember how to breathe. Her head spun. 

Still, he did follow. She caught his reflection in the glass pane, ghost-like and ever so casual as he leaned back against her door and closed it. She heard the lock click.

“You win,” Meg said. “Just leave her alone. Please. Leave my family alone.” 

The villain hummed, examining his surroundings with a mild curiosity. She was just glad that her parents were not the type to preserve the bedrooms of their daughters, and so there was little of her teenage and childhood self left within its walls. 

“Come again.” 

Meg squeezed her eyes shut, before opening them and turning to face him.  “I said you win. Happy?”

“Oh, very happy,” he said. “Your sister is delightful. Great kisser.”

“Don’t.”

A malicious, gleeful sort of smile curled his lips; at odds with the sunny little thing he’d wielded to all of the guests clustered below them. 

“It would break her heart, if I broke up with her,” he said. “She said she loved me, you know. Understood her like no one she’s ever known!”

“Yeah? Well, she doesn’t know you’re a vile snake.”

He clicked his tongue. “Such language, Megara.”

“You haven’t seen the half of my language!”

“I thought I won?” He raised a brow. “You’re not acting like I won. I think you should low a little more humility.” He twirled his glass in his head and cocked his head. “Don’t you?”

Meg gritted her teeth. Her heart pounded fit to explode in her chest. She exhaled a deep steadying breath. Electricity crackled and burned in the palm of her hand and hurt to be forced down. 

He took a slow sip, enjoying the show. 

“You know,” he said. “I just adore your family. They’re very welcoming. Surprisingly proper to the old ways. Why, they like me more than they like you.”

Meg’s shoulders tensed because it was true.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong.” The villain continued to study her with that smile. “They love you. They just really don’t like you very much, do they?”

“If you don’t stay away from them-”

“Oh, come now. No need for threats. It’s a party. And I won, so it’s not like threats are going to do you much good. Do you think I haven’t already planned for any threat you might make?”

The cold that had crept down her spine felt like it was everywhere, and everything felt very far away. Because, of course he had. He’d been planting villainous boyfriends for far too long for not this to have been unnervingly thought out, given that Meg had heard about Tomas before she’d heard of the villain!

“What do you want?” It came out a hiss, despite the breathing exercise. The electricity crackled in her palm again. She dug her nails in. 

"Do you remember when we first met?” He took a step towards her, then another, setting his glass down on the windowsill. His gaze drifted idly to the party milling outside and far below and he seemed utterly unconcerned by the thought of being shocked. 

She said nothing, but of course she did. 

“I asked you to join me, then,” he mused. 

“You’ll leave my family alone if I join you?” Nausea twisted in her gut. 

He hummed, glancing at her. Whatever he saw on her face made him smile again. “Would you?” 

“Fine,” she said, quickly, like ripping a plaster off. “I’ll join you. Whatever. Just leave - just leave them all out of it.”

She didn’t always like her family, but she did love them. When it came down to it they were a family and it didn’t matter that Ella didn’t believe her, wouldn’t believe her, Meg still couldn’t let this happen.  

His eyes gleamed. He held out a hand to seal the deal. 

Her stomach crawled, but after a moment she took it a second time that night, and tried not to think of devils and souls. 

This time, he used the touch to yank - drawing her close with a stumbled step, too close. Their lips brushed and her heart dropped and -

“You refused me,” he said, and there was none of the glee, none of the charm in his voice anymore. It was dark and cold and nothing. “We could have been gods among these pathetic powerless versions of humanity, but you chose them instead.”

Panic filled her. “I’m choosing you now.”

He pulled back, and smiled the perfect smile of her sister’s new boyfriend. He pulled her hand up and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“And now,” he said, in a normal tone. “Everything you have is going to be mine. Get used to seeing me - by the end of the year I’ll be your brother in law. Do behave accordingly.”

He turned on his heel and walked out, back into the party, further into her life.

The electricity in her hands shot out and shattered the lights as the door shut behind him.

She was going to kill him.

[spookyboywhump]

I think you've talked about it before, but what would Cain do if Zander did give up, not like fully conditioned but just submitted, stop being SO defiant stopped spitting and screaming. Would it scare Cain?

Oh it would scare the shit out of Cain, he’d fucking panic. I think at first he’d think Zander is acting or playing a joke on him, and when that doesn’t work he’d end up bringing Andrew over and begging him to “fix” him because he’s so desperate for a solution. He doesn’t want to accept that there is no fixing this, and that he’s gone and completely fucked Zander up beyond “repair”.

[unicornscotty]

Oof, Cain trying to push Zanders' buttons doing everything that would usually annoy him and get a reaction. giving him proper/regular food leaving his cell door open to see if he'd come out and talk just anything

[amvs]

[spookyboywhump]

6. Punishment

Previous

Hiiii, here's part six! Sorry this one took me so long hehe

CW: Pet whump, dehumanization, mouth whump (specifically the tongue), whipping

***

Zander squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to block out the bright lights overhead. He'd been taking to the infirmary after the fight, one wrist handcuffed to the rickety metal bedframe he laid on. He was well acquainted with this place after all this time, especially now that he'd gone and lost four fights one after another. It really wasn't like him to do so badly, sure he'd lost here and there before, he couldn't win them all, but… four in a row was something else. He wondered if it was just the end for him, he was no longer good for the one purpose he had. He supposed it had been a good run, most of the fighters didn't last nearly this long.

"Cain is going to beat your ass for this, you know that, right?" The nurse cleaning him up said, wiping blood off his face.

"I'm well aware." He sighed. As if the beating he'd just sustained wasn't enough, Cain was going to make it even worse once they got home. He wondered if he would make Wren watch. He wondered if Wren had kept quiet, or if he'd also be in trouble when they got home. He sincerely hoped it would just be him.

The last time he'd fought Leo, he had won. It didn't matter much to him who he beat, all that mattered what that he did beat them, but other dogs often didn't feel the same. He knew Leo held a grudge about last time, he didn't understand it though. He didn't see the point in feeling so personally about something he didn't even want to do. Still, he considered himself lucky he'd gotten that frustration out now rather than later, it wouldn't have been the first time another dog picked a fight with him outside of the ring and got them both in trouble.

He laid there trying to focus on breathing through his mouth, trying to ignore the feeling of blood running down the back of his throat from his busted nose. If he thought about it too much he'd start gagging, somehow he'd never gotten that used to the feeling. The infirmary was loud around him, he may have lost his fight but he certainly wasn't the worst off down there, as evidenced by the wailing he could hear a few beds down. If he had to guess, it sounded like a broken bone, something wasn't where it was meant to be, or it was bending in a way it shouldn't. He considered himself lucky his nose was the only thing broken this time around. Sometimes they called this place the Vet, and it sure felt like it from the way owners and medics alike addressed the dogs, good girl, bad dog, sit, stay, come, mixed in with the sounds of chains and whimpers. Despite the chaos, Zander felt he could relax here, until Cain arrived. He tried to savor it while it lasted.

He groaned when he finally heard Cain's voice, he was asking one of the medics where he was, his moment of peace was over and it would be right back to the usual suffering. He kept his eyes closed even when he heard him approaching, he wished he could've just disappeared before Cain reached him, but he'd wished that countless times before and it had never once come true.

"What the fuck is your problem, Zander?!" He snapped, Zander opening his eyes as he was grabbed by the face, Cain physically commanding his attention.

"Well, right now it's that you're yelling at me-"

"Four fucking times now?! In a row?! Are you serious?!" He was yelling now, Zander felt bad for the other pets having to listen to this, and maybe a few of the nicer medics. He assumed they were used to it by now.

"What do you want me to do?!" He snapped back at him. "I'm doing my fucking best here!"

"Well your best isn't fucking good enough! What do I even keep you around for if not t fight?!" Zander knew his attitude as making Cain angrier, and yet he didn't stop, pushing and pushing him like he always did.

"To yell at, to use as a punching bag, to-" He didn't get a chance to finish, Cain raised his hand and by the time Zander realized what he was doing, it was too late, he brought his fist down hard in the center of Zander's face, right on his already broken nose. He howled in pain, his hand flew up to cover his face as he turned away, attempting to hide the tears in his eyes. "Fuck, you fucking asshole!" He cried. Cain grabbed his face again, digging his nails into his skin as he forced him to look back at him, glaring down at him.

"I'm over it, Zander." He growled. "At this point I have half a mind to just put you down." It wasn't the first time Zander had heard that from him, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He glared back at him, trying not to look as pathetic as he felt, and spoke through gritted teeth.

"I fucking wish you would."

***

Wren felt like he was being marched to his death as he was dragged to that room again, his heart pounding in his chest. Cain practically threw him on the floor, he whimpered as he landed on his knees on the hard tile.

"You know, I had planned to let the mutt be an example to you, but since you can't keep your mouth shut, I guess you can go first." Cain said, Wren watching him warily. He wanted to apologize again, but he kept quiet, trying desperately to avoid making things worse. He caught Zander's eye, he almost looked… disappointed? He must've realized what he'd done and now even he was unhappy with him.

He anxiously watched Cain pace the room, he looked like he was thinking, before he finally walked over to one of the tables against the wall. Wren dreaded what he'd come back with now, after dealing with the riding crop last time. His heart dropped when he turned around, holding a knife, all thoughts of staying calm disappeared immediately as he quickly resorted to begging.

"W-wait- wait, please, sir, I-" He pleaded, but Cain wouldn't listen to him.

"Would you shut the fuck up?!" He snapped, storming over to him. "If I wanted you to beg, I'd tell you to. I want you to sit there, stop fucking talking, and take your fucking punishment!" He slapped him across the face, Wren felt lucky he hadn't used the knife yet.

When he looked up, he saw Cain pull something from his pocket, a lighter. He held the flame to the blade, Wren wasn't sure if he was feeling relief or terror. He really thought Cain was about to cut his tongue out, he wasn't sure if this was about to be better or worse. He tried to back up but Cain was quick to grab him by the hair.

"Open your mouth." He ordered. Wren frantically shook his head, clenching his jaw tight. He knew it was stupid, he knew there was no getting out of this, but he was too scared to obey. It was easy when obedience allowed him to avoid pain, but not so much when obedience forced him to accept pain. "Come on, opening your damn mouth should be no problem for you!" He held him by the hair and shook him roughly, and finally Wren cried out, he couldn't hold out any longer.

His mouth fell open, and Cain slid the knife between his teeth, resting the blade flat on his tongue. Wren wailed as the blade seared his tongue, but he stayed as still as possible, terrified that if he moved even an inch Cain would end up cutting him. His dug his nails into the palms of his hands, still sore from the night before. He hardly felt the pain, the scorching hot blade became the only sensation he knew. Tears streamed down his face as he whimpered and whined, and finally, after what felt like eternity, Cain pulled the knife away. Somehow, this was even more painful than the initial burn, he swore it took a layer off his tongue with it. As soon as he was free, Wren doubled over, hands covering his mouth while he sobbed in agony. All he could think was how badly he wanted to go home, how badly he wanted this to be over, but it had really only just begun. After all, Zander was still due for a punishment as well.

"Stop your crying, you need to watch this." Cain said, kicking him in the leg. He looked up, horrified as Cain selected the whip off the wall, the sound it made as it dragged across the floor made him shiver. He didn't want to see this, his mind screaming at him to jump up and run from the room, but he didn't dare.

"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" Zander said bluntly. "I mean, he's a good kid."

"I don't care what you think." Cain said, using the handle of the whip to tilt Zander's chin up. "You're going to count each lash, understand? If you fuck up, we'll just have to restart."

"Yes sir." Zander said tiredly. He didn't look the least bit afraid despite what was about to happen to him.

He watched as Cain stepped behind Zander, he planted his foot in the center of his back and pushed him forward. Zander didn't resist, and Wren found himself wondering why he hadn't seen him resist once yet. He was bigger, and certainly stronger than Cai, but still, he did as he was told, like he had no other choice. He took a deep breath, like he was preparing himself for what would come next, he shut his eyes, Wren saw him clench his fists where his hands rested on his thighs. The first crack of the whip startled him even as he watched it happen, Zander lurched forward when it struck his back, having to place his hands on the floor to steady himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched.

"One." He said, his voice strained. He was calm and collected, while Wren couldn't stop himself from crying, watching the whip come down again. Zander groaned in pain, but he still kept his jaw clenched tightly, it was like he was trying his hardest not to give Cain the satisfaction of hearing him scream. He endured the first few lashes in almost complete silence, aside from counting each one off, but even he could only take so much. "Fuck, fuck, five!" He snapped, his head hanging low. Wren could see he was shaking.

"You know this is your own damn fault!" Cain told him, he truck him again and finally, Zander cried out in pain, his voice cracking as he counted it off. He took deep, shuddering breaths, and he yelped when Cain hit him again. Wren couldn't see it but he knew he must've been bleeding, the thought of what those wounds would look like made him sick. Zander counted each one of the following strikes, even as his voice broke, as he choked back tears, Wren had to turn away, he couldn't keep watching this. Zander counted up to ten, and that's when Cain finally tossed the whip aside. He was completely doubled over at this point, and much to Wren's surprise, he still spoke up.

"Is- is that… really… all you've got…?" He asked. Wren was certain he had lost his mind. Cain grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to sit up again. Wren could see his face streaked with tears, and still, he glared up at him.

"Keep talking like that and I'll whip you until you can't drag your sorry ass off the floor." He growled at him.

He let go of Zander, now barking at Wren to get up, but he couldn't stop staring at Zander. Despite the fight he'd already endured, the whipping, the tears on his face, he still sat up straight, his jaw set, he didn't show an ounce of the pain he must've been in. Wren couldn't help but wish he was even half as strong, half as brave as he was.

[caffedorzo]

tagged by @orchidreign to make myself with this picrew!! tysm my darling 🖤✨

i was eager to do this one even though i have a lot of other tags to do, since i *thought* i'd be dying my hair in korea and wanted one last picrew with the red.. sigh

tagging: @k1ttenblood, @mvement, @mellowsleepy, @sapokanikan, @bwaldorf

@vermiliones, @starchild--27, @oathome, @allisstardust, @dance-insane

@doppiomacchiato, @cornpotato, @giulla, @solpng, @karube

@fignwtn, @zyx, or anyone who wants to do this!!

[bergamotpeel]

thank u!!

tagging @sundayafternoonsurvivor @legallylibra @bunnyduvet @ladyparamount @dustydolls @peachmango-kombucha and anyone else who wants to 🩷

[legallylibra]

ty for tagging me!! This was a lot of fun and such a cute picrew :0

Tagging @transslycanthropy, @whumpologyy, @brutal-nemesis, @cottoncambi, @keplerspacecraftofficial, @paparoach and anyone else who wants to :3

[whumpologyy]

fun!!!

Tagging @whumpyourdamnpears @spookyboywhump @funwithmydem0ns @acelightningwhumper andddd open tag :)

[spookyboywhump]

Hehe thank you for the tag!!! As well as @legallylibra for tagging me on my other blog :3c

Tagging! @blueberry-braincell @unicornscotty @whumpwhittler @inhurtandincomfort @ anyone who wants to akdhdkdhdk

[unicornscotty]

Thankyou @spookyboywhump for the @

Tagging @milk-carton-whump

[violent-ultraviolet]

Guard dog whumpees with control issues.

Whumpees who hate their hands tied.

Maybe it's a guard dog whumpee who needs to have its hands free or it feels immense anxiety.

A whumpee who absolutely hates restraints and being unable to combat any threats without their hands free.

A whumpee who can take whatever you throw at them, but once their hands are tied behind their back they break down begging and pleading.

Whumpees so thoroughly conditioned to protect that taking their main asset away is terrifying.

[justbreakonme]

My mom’s dog doesn’t growl if you mess with her, tickle her paws or ears or whatnot. But god forbid you touch my mom or even pretend like you’re going to. Then she’s up and growling, barking and she doesn’t bite but that’s only cause it’s us, if it was a stranger, they’d be in shreds.

So, guard dog Whumpee who will let anyone and everyone treat them however, but would tear someone apart for even looking at Caretaker wrong.

A shelter dog guard dog whumpee.

[sleepy-dog-boy]

I love a defiant whumpee that slowly loses steam over the course of captivity, but never gets less defiant.

Starting out biting and kicking and screaming, lashing out at anyone who gets close like a rabid dog.

When they run out of energy to thrash, they’re spitting insults, hurling threats and curses at everyone in earshot.

By the time they can’t shout anymore, they’re sneering and flipping the bird at anyone who can see them.

Once all they can do is lift their head, they raise up just enough to glare and spit blood at their captor.

[whumpologyy]

Whumpee whose rape was filmed and now whenever they see someone looking at them in public for a bit too long they're worried it's because that person recognizes them from the video

Whumpee walked through the door with their head down and hat pulled low. Maybe next time they needed to bring sunglasses. Whatever it took to block their face, really. To feel less....exposed.

They just had to get in, get a few groceries, and get out. That was it. Easy. They didn't even have to confront any of their usual triggers -- the store didn't have Whumper's face looming over them, or people brushing too close, or the dark, cramped walls from that night, red light of the camera buzzing in the corner. Whumpee almost thought they could make it through unscathed.

Big mistake.

Whumpee could feel the eyes on them from across the room. When they looked up to meet the man's eyes, he looked away quickly. Twice.

Whumpee's pulse started to pick up. Their skin seemed to crawl under the stranger's gaze. They didn't know this guy. Why was he looking at them like that?

Why do you think?

Before Whumpee could stop it, they were seeing themselves through the man's eyes, through a screen -- face contorted with pain and horror, skin completely bared, Whumper's body pressed on top of them --

No.

Whumpee abandoned their groceries in the middle of the aisle, bursting out the front doors of the store and gasping in air like they'd been underwater for the last ten minutes. They straightened their hat and made a beeline for the car. They had to get home. They couldn't be out. Not like this.

[snakebites-and-ink]

Living Weapon Whumpee conditioned and abused by a cruel organization. Pushed to the absolute limits of their body and still punished for their inevitable collapse. Then the same the next day, given no grace for the fact that they're already sore and exhausted from the day before, plus whatever the punishment did to them. Being bullied and abused and used inappropriately just because the handlers can. Yelling and degrading and taking out whatever feelings they might have on the weapon.

Then they're captured/sold/etc. to an organization that's practical and (relatively speaking) reasonable. This group only inflicts punishments for defiance or avoidable failure. They properly use the overload principle, pushing the weapon to improve in increments that don't injure it, so recovery doesn't slow down progress. They're largely detached towards the weapon instead of angry or contemptuous. Discipline is rarely something that impedes its functioning for long, and when it is, the handlers adjust their expectations accordingly. There are rules for how handlers can treat the weapon to make sure it's used correctly.

Suddenly there's a win condition: if the weapon does as its supposed to, it can avoid the better part of potential pain and suffering. And the weapon is so glad and does its best and wouldn't trade this for anything. Of course, it's still a weapon and not a person, so it doesn't need any sort of comfort/enrichment/other "luxuries." But this group, unlike the first, sees no merit in treatment that will damage a working tool.

Then give Living Weapon (an) actual caretaker(s) and watch as their whole worldview falls apart :)

[the-forcemascinator]

part of the appeal of knight x jester is how well it lends itself to a service x service dynamic. guard dog dedicated to protecting x performer dedicated to entertaining. soldier trained to think that their attachments will only lead to pain and loss x fool trained to think their emotions are distractions and that their focus should always be the feelings of their audience. guard who believes their purpose is to cause pain x clown who believes their purpose is to make others happy. a tragedy x a comedy of errors. knows how to give, not how to receive x knows how to give, not how to receive >>>

[starryybrained]

CW: Noncon, captivity, forced to choose, forced to watch

Recently just got overtaken by the idea of a whumpee taken captive and then shown that theyre not alone. Someone else - whether that be a friend, teammate, stranger - is also trapped with them.

Whumper drags them into the room with whumpee, and offers them a choice. Either whumper rapes the other captive, or whumpee offers themself up to be raped instead. No matter what, the other person will have to watch/listen.

Thinking of this situation where whumpee who has constantly been powerless has been offered this choice. They lay down and take things because they have to. They accept the way the world is, all the hurt others go through, because realistically, it’ll never get better, right? There’s nothing they can do.

But now, they can avoid their fate. At the expense of another. But they cant bear it. Being the reason something so vile and sickening happens to another person. Being unable to look away.

Whumpee accepts that they’re a bad person, but they cant stand the idea of this. Of ignoring the sounds, the impact. Of imagining themself as the reason an innocent person was raped.

Even more impactful if the other captive is a complete stranger - thinking of having never met them and only knowing them to see them be violated, something they could never stand.

And they choose to spare the other.

And while whumper rapes them, they can only think that this is what they asked for. All the hurt, the violation, the pain, this is what they chose.

[kuroshitsuji]