Ozriel

1,548 words | The black prince [WT] (sequel to Their Majesty)

Content | Guilt, aftermath of trauma, mute whumpee, power imbalance, mention of: pregnancy

Notes | 👀 Behind the scenes of the royal family 👀

Taglist | @echo-goes-aaa @whump-blog @scoundrelwithboba @whumpcreations

»Fin.« Ozriel’s courteous mask collapsed as soon as they were alone; they let their tears spill, and enclosed him in the warmest, tightest hug for Orafin to melt into. He was home. He was really home. Ozriel was here, and he was healed, and he would go home. He returned the hug as tight as he could.

»I’m so sorry,« Ozriel sobbed into his ear. »We thought you were dead, or we never would have stopped looking for you. I’m so sorry—«

two critically injured, probably dying soldiers tucked away behind cover while a battle rages on close by.

they're on opposite sides, but that hardly matters when they're both slowly bleeding out, too consumed by pain and weakness to go reaching for their weapons.

so instead they talk. about themselves, their loved ones, what they hoped to do after the war, their life's dreams, even things as simple as their favorite foods or colors. in their dying hours, they build a strong connection to a person they've only just met, and both wonder to themselves if they could have been good friends, had things been different.

maybe they die there. two soldiers wearing opposing uniforms, bodies slumped against each other and hands tightly linked, seeking the comfort of human touch in their final moments.

or maybe one soldier's comrades come to save them, and they struggle with what little strength they have left, begging and pleading for them to bring the other soldier too, that they won't go without them.

Conquest Masterpost

Watch your kingdom die. Betray what’s left to save your life.

Danelor was a peaceful country, a land of poets and musicians. Insignificant. Defenseless.

The merciless invaders swept in from the north and claimed it for their empire. They burned the farms and tortured the survivors for their entertainment. Their cruel soldiers slaughtered every last soul in the royal palace… except Miranelis, a cowardly clerk hiding in a pantry, too afraid to fight.

To Kezul, the disgraced son of the northern emperor, Danelor is a test. If he can keep control of the devastated land, he will not be stripped of his birthright. But he was only taught to conquer, not to rule.

Miranelis, now his captive, may not have the stomach for battle, but they understand the intricacies of rule. But they have no reason to help the conquerors who destroyed everything they loved.

So Kezul will have to give them one.

---

Conquest is no-magic fantasy whump with a royal whumper, a fearful but quietly defiant nonbinary whumpee, degradation, cultural differences, fantasy politics, and an intense and complicated relationship between whumper and whumpee (no romance).

It will also involve major character death, so steer clear if that’s not for you.

This story will be novel-length, with a planned 32 chapters. Updates twice a week. Ask to be added to or removed from tag list.

Chapters

Chapter 1: The Coward Chapter 2: The Exile Chapter 3: The Courtyard Chapter 4: A Valuable Resource Chapter 5: Bloodstains Chapter 6: Entertainment Chapter 7: A Taste of Courage Chapter 8: Blood Games Chapter 9: Test of Character Chapter 10: A Creature of Contradictions Chapter 11: An Unsolvable Puzzle Chapter 12: Another Way Chapter 13: Serving the Enemy Chapter 14: Negotiations Chapter 15: A New Form of Madness Chapter 16: The Unmaker Chapter 17: Trust and Loyalty Chapter 18: Conquer This One Chapter 19: For Your Own Good Chapter 20: Playing the Unmaker's Game Chapter 21: A Sick Craving Chapter 22: All That Remains Chapter 23: Choosing Defeat Chapter 24: What Cowardice Looks Like Chapter 25: A Walk in the Moonlight Chapter 26: The Pit Chapter 27: Everything You Ever Wanted Chapter 28: Perfectly Defeated Chapter 29: Place of Honor Chapter 30: Defeated Chapter 31: Victory Chapter 32: The Only Job Left

Here from a reblog? Here's the most recent version.

okay inspired by another prompt but-

A prince that acts all high and mighty and well to do and overly confident. Someone - maybe a noble, or maybe a commoner, could be anyone that doesn't live in the palace with him - decides they hate his attitude and wants to take him down a notch or ten, so they kidnap him with full intent to torture him.

They get him somewhere alone, toss him around a bit. The prince's behavior has changed like the flip of a switch. His confidence and regal bearing is gone, replaced with cowering and feeble, half-formed pleas and teary eyes. The kidnapper thinks it's just an act to get them to let him go, and they get even angrier about it, so of course they take their anger out on him.

At some point they do strip him down...only to find the evidence of past abuse. Not anything simple either, nothing that could be caused by accidents. His clothes covered whip marks and scars, old and new. And an intricate pattern of brands spanning his shoulders, which looked to be a piece still be in progress.

The prince's change in behavior makes a bit more sense, but does the kidnapper actually care? Or maybe they feel vindicated, believing they're not the only one who thinks the prince needs a behavior adjustment.

The Kind Commander

AI-less Whumptober Day 2: Exhaustion

Masterlist

TW: military whump, power dynamics, multiple whumpees, lex is a fucking dumbass that's what

---

Lex Winch groaned as he slowly rose to consciousness. Confused as to what had awoken him, he sat up wearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a frown. 

As soon as he sat up, though, his memories came flooding back to him. 

The recon mission. The ambush. The death of his squad. The capture of the remaining two. 

Of his half-dozen member squad, only Lex and his friend, Isaac Lidgett, had been able to stay alive. And even then, Lex couldn’t decide whether their dead squadmates were the luckier ones. The Skoaxians were infamous for their brutality and poor treatment of their prisoners. Especially those under the command of Captain Ulysses Hawk.

Sighing, Lex stared up blankly at the muddy green of the tent fabric above him, wondering, not for the first time, just how exactly he had ended up in this situation. 

One day,  he was only a few months away from getting his masters in Ancient and Classical Literature, and then the next thing he knew, Skoaxia had attacked and Nascines had been forced to retaliate, never mind the thousands of innocent Nascinites who had been drafted and sent off to die.

If you are every going to continue this, please tag me. It is amazing.

Abandoned whumpee

CW: Whumper turned caretaker, injured whumpee, defiant, restrained, angst

Whumpee awoke in their enemies infirmary.

An IV was pricking their arm and the lights were dimmed. They twitched as their wrist ached from the handcuff binding them to the bed.

"You're awake? I was getting worried about you." Whumper hummed, sitting by their bedside with a large cup of coffee. Whumpee shakily rose their hand as the handcuff clinked.

"This isn't necessary." Whumpee tiredly mumbled.

"My my, you've been awake for ten seconds and already making demands." Whumper chuckled. "But I'm afraid we're not on that level of trust yet, I can get you something for the bruise."

But just…I feel very strongly about a Whumpee being tortured for information they just don’t have. Whumper is certain they know, they are totally convinced Whumpee is lying through their teeth.

Whumpee wants to scream if they hear that goddamn question one more time—but they have no choice, Whumper will keep asking until Whumpee cracks.

But they’ve cracked a long time ago, they just don’t know.

Whumper tells them over and over—“If you’re honest, we can stop. You can lay down, I’ll even get you a drink. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

But Whumpee just wails and begs them to stop, even as Whumper asks again. They just don’t know.

Whump prompt XVIII

Caretaker is trying to buy whumpee to free them.

Only they cannot afford the asking price, so they're left haggling down whumpee's value, picking out every conceivable flaw and arguing with the seller that whumpee really isn't worth that - all fully within earshot of whumpee.

Caretaker spotted his old friend almost immediately. Almost. The beatings and starvation had sunk in deeply, like they’d altered his very soul. He had the same face, but it was as if it had been scrubbed off and then repainted.

Whumpee spotted him instantly, though.

There was little he could do against the excessive binds, but it was unmistakeable how his dull, half-lidded eyes suddenly flew open, staring with intention. With the muzzle covering half of his face, Caretaker couldn’t tell if it was shock or fear. Happiness wasn’t an option- nothing good happened down these alleyways.

Caretaker approached, taking his time; he idly picked over the wares from some of the neighbouring stalls, acted aloof, until he let his feet stop before Whumpee’s tiny frame and the man who currently owned him.

Rescue

1,147 words | Heir apparent

Content | Captivity, kidnapping, exhaustion, broken bones, whumper turned caretaker, past parental abuse, implied: beating, whipping, sleep deprivation

Notes | New series! How exciting! Meet an unfortunate kidnapped princeling and their shitty sorcerer parent!

(To be clear, they're shitty at parenting. They are VERY GOOD at sorcery.)

It had been days of a never-ending nightmare.

Sharru had barely hoped for his parent to come save him in any sort of a hurry to begin with, and with every hour, every blow, what hope he had faded further. It was his own fault, they would think, for being so weak and foolish as to be taken. It would do him good to learn a lesson at the hands of his captors.

His kidnappers had told him they had given their demands, but even they knew. »How long do you think their Majesty is going to leave you to us?« they’d laugh, clearly thrilled to have the son of their beloathed ruler at their mercy. »Best not waste our time together, huh?«

And they certainly didn’t.

Hear No Evil - Chapter 5

Previous // Next (tbd)

CW: bbu, bbu-adjacent, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, dehumanizing intent by using it/its pronouns, ableism, blood mention, scar mention, non-sexual nudity

"This story is a tragedy because it didn't have to end this way."

vs

"This story is a tragedy because it was always going to end this way."

Permission to Cry

It wasn’t just days or weeks that Whumpee was with Whumper, it was months before Team Leader and Team Members were able to execute a successful rescue mission. Eleven months and some change before Whumpee was taken from a little concrete cell and given a warm home again.

Whumpee spent more than a week in the infirmary, pumped full out medications and vitamins through their IV, stitched up where they could be, burn cream where it was needed, and bones reset. They’d barely spoken through the length of it. Small, pathetic whimpers when a few fingers were rebroken and blank stares as the cuts across their arms and legs were sewn together. It was only when Team Leader was in the room did they seem to relax slightly, so Team Leader stayed close. Hovering by their side, holding a hand when they were allowed, and whispering words of encouragement.

Our Hell on Earth #1: Warm Welcome

Masterlist

content: demon whumper, demon caretaker/carewhumper, interrogation, torture, burns, defiant whumpee, caretaking, captivity

welcome to my next bigger series! it’s not gonna be nearly as long as K&J, but still way longer than my little miniseries. been having these guys in my head for years and MTAT finally gave me the push to put ‘em out there. hope you enjoy my new guys :)

@amonthofwhump​ March Trope-A-Thon Day 3: Spy/Military / Interrogation / Undercover Mission / Barracks/Training / Patching Up A Wound

Cedric flexed his fingers nervously, his wrists shackled directly to the arms of the chair. It was wooden, but a hard, sturdy wood: both uncomfortable to sit in for as long as he had been, and impossible to break, especially when he couldn’t gain any leverage. His head still pounded from where he’d gotten hit.

His ankles were similarly bolted to the chair’s legs, preventing him from anxiously bouncing his leg like he so wanted to, unable to see even an inch in front of his face in the pitch-dark of the windowless room he’d woken up in. He could hardly even tell if his eyes were open or closed.

He was so fucked this time.

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