#adhd whumpee

[defire]

Back to the Dregs Masterpost

Story summary:

A young detective thought he'd left his problems in his past, but when he's kidnapped as bait for his gangster brother, he has to find a way to escape. Before they figure out his brother hates him.

Overall Content Warnings: beatings, kidnapping, gangs, on-screen rape, nonconsensual nudity, forced to watch, memories of child abuse, flogging (of sorts), escape attempts

More specific CW's are tagged in the individual posts.

You can also get it on Amazon and ao3.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Epilogue

Picrews

If you liked Back to the Dregs, it would mean so much if you leave it a review on Amazon

Oh and if you liked Back to the Dregs, I recommend Ghost of Seattle, it has similar vibes except the protagonist is younger, autistic, and an actual gang member.

[defire]

YEZ read mine! :D

I have lots of whump! I write complex relationships and lots of fighting and power imbalance, gangs, beatings, restraints, nsfwhump, and domestic abuse etc (all tagged on top of each chapter).

Back to the Dregs (beating whump), a modern novella about a guy kidnapped by a gang, and then beaten up (a lot) and dangled as bait for his abusive foster father's gang... Lots of ptsd throughout it, and a good brother/evil brother relationship arc.

Dance of Death (domestic abuse and slavery), a fantasy novel about a girl that uses her magnetic, cutting words to undermine proponents of child abuse, only to be trapped in an even worse situation than her abused friends--a slave in her enemy's mansion.

And (personal favorite) Ghost of Seattle: a post-apocalyptic action novel about a boy forced into being a child soldier for his abusive dad's gang. As he struggles against multiple gangs demanding his allegiance, he realizes that not one of them is actually on his side.

Ghost of Seattle is currently still being posted daily a chapter at a time, but all 3 of these are finished and available on Amazon. Okay I hope you find something you like among the reblogs! :D

anyone have a whump series I could binge read? ( promote your own writing!!)

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 2.

Previous part. Masterpost. Next part.

Content warning: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an unhuman whumpee, pet whump.

"In folklore, any mythical, magical creature is commonly called 'fey'," they book that Lord Teelo had ordered after returning to the inn room said. "It is, of course, a wide misconception that is not accepted in any theory that has even an ounce of respect for itself. Fey is not just another way to say "magical", but a registered phenomenon different from a spirit, a magic-infused animal or a demon, and especially has nothing to do with tiny folk with wings, whose existence is widely refuted…"

It went on and on, an irritatingly salty response siting some previous debates and calling out authors the lord had never heard about. It could be entertaining in its own right – Lord Teelo was anything but impartial to loud grudges and decades old arguments – if not for his lack of experience with the topic rendering the details tedious and the fact that it wasn't idle interest that led him to seeking out the book.

The papers had been signed in half an hour, the impressive sum of money changing hands as the decision had been finalized at the spot. The arrangements had been made immediately after to transport the creature to the lord's summer house. It was to spend its last night at the auction house, and then, in the morning, they would ride – Lord Teelo in his usual carriage and his new property in an impressive cage – towards its new home.

The thrill of the purchase was sure to keep the lord awake, and he decided to spend the time on research. Learning about the kind of thing that came into his possession was paramount – after all, he didn't want it to die before its time because of his ignorance.

"Fey is defined by any reputable source as an otherworldly creature. It does not come with as many defined characteristics as an unsoundly educated person would believe: a creature from another dimension does not have to have wings and three pairs of limbs, though it is not out of the realm of possibility. A fey can look exactly as your regular cattle. The one thing that makes it fey is that it is not from the reality we live in."

The text wasn't very useful. In the two chapters Lord Teelo had managed before throwing the book into his bag and settling in bed, there was an infuriatingly little amount of actual, useful advice. The further he read, the more sure he was: he would have to figure things out by himself.

It was the thrill that came with owning the never before seen creature, one he wasn't even sure was from the same world, one, if it wasn't, that would catch the interest and desire for experiments by mages all over the world.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he should get into contact with a few. Their insight would be valuable either way – the lord was doubtful that the rainbow marks on the creature's skin could be the result of anything but magic, and magic tended to come with complications he wasn't confident he could deal with by himself.

Getting in contact with the sailors who caught the thing was a good idea, too. He'd already asked for the name of their ship and drafted a letter to a good old acquaintance in Froien. She would get the information to him in no time, even if he'll definitely have to show the creature to her afterwards. Keya, as he knew her, was curious beyond all else. Lord Teelo couldn't wait to see her face and the faces of his other acquaintances when they saw the kind of prize he'd gotten. The images of their amazement and barely hidden jealousy made him giddy with anticipation.

He wanted to make the most out of the day, and so was up and in the back garden of the auction house barely an hour after sunrise, despite the morning chill finding its way to his very bones through the layers of fabrics and furs he'd donned. A cart made into a cage with thick iron bars – provided with the purchase, of course, and with how much he'd paid Lord Teelo would be personally offended if it wasn't – was hurriedly readied and brought to the doors of the building.

The sounds of clattering and clinging and human voices burst through the open door before the creature was dragged out. It was the size of a northern wolf, bound and twisted and carried by two cautious servants. It craned its neck and bared its teeth through the muzzle, a wild animal, a scared one, and if not for the lines running down its skin and the weirdly human-like hands – with thumbs even if they were too long to actually be human – Lord Teelo would have taken it for nothing more than a dumb beast. Then it opened its mouth as wide as it could and let out a whole string of sounds – low and guttural and constantly repeating in patterns that made the lord think that it was trying – no, saying something in an unfamiliar, alien language.

He felt his pulse high in his throat, watching the creature as it was pushed inside the cage, chains around its limbs secured and the door locked behind. It kicked and threw itself against the metal only to settle back a moment later, too smart to waste energy on a fight it couldn't win.

And then, it noticed him.

Lord Teelo thought it recognized him – or maybe it was a wishful thinking fueled by the way it stilled and stared and then craned its neck to the side and forward, baring fangs in a display that was chilling even despite the binds. The unblinking yellow of its eyes pierced right through him.

He felt goosebumps creeping up his arms but refused to acknowledge it. He was safe, he reminded himself. It was tied up and helpless. No matter how it bared its teeth and tried to look scary, he was the master.

He stepped forward, lifting a hand up to place at the edge of the cart. The creature glanced at it, then continued staring. The lord smiled, "Hello there."

The creature growled and then said something. Lord Teelo continued soothingly, "No need to be so tense. We'll get to know each other -- you'll get used to me in no time."

In the light of the starting day, its skin didn't look like that startling black he saw in the dim cell. It was more grayish – still dark, though, and still unnatural. The pattern of colorful lines didn't look any less striking. His fingers ached to touch it, to feel if its skin was rough under his touch or as human-like as some of its features were. As the black short fur framing its face and ending in the middle of its back in a sort of haircut. Fey, Lord Teelo thought fervently. It had to be one. It was too strange in some ways and too familiar in others. It had to be a creature from another world. What other explanation could there be?

"Lord Teelo?" A voice came from his side and soon he was regrettably distracted, finishing the transaction and discussing the details. Servants pulled a thick piece of fabric covering the cage from view. Lord Teelo dismissed the pang of regret at their actions, reminding that he was going to have months worth of time to play around with the new toy.

He wondered what it'd be like. How it'd act. Would it be able to learn the human tongue, or prove to be too dumb for it?

He wondered where it would live. And – ah, this was an urgent question, was it not? He should send a letter to make sure it was all taken care of by the time he arrived.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is)

@isikedmyself878, @fraugustends, @otterfrost, @fuchstastisch, @3-2-whump, @the-lone-youth

Tell me to be tagged in the new parts!

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 9

I simply couldn't give this prompt to anyone else. No need to know my blorbos beforehand, you'll figure out their dynamic pretty quick.

Obsession

“This whole thing is really tipping into obsession territory.”

“You’re just now realizing this?”

Declan paused.

“I meant that as a rude comment, Hasan.”

They clicked the menu button and the racers on screen stopped moving. Declan reached over to resume it by clicking Hasan’s controller, but they jerked it away and set it out of view.

“Look here.” He looked. Stupid obedience training. “What do you think I do in my free time?” 

“When you’re not down here?” It took a moment to formulate an answer. When they weren’t in his face, he didn’t often wonder what his kidnapper was up to. “You have hobbies outside of torture, I figure.”

“I crocheted this,” Hasan volunteered, tugging the sleeve of their bolero.

“Really? I would’ve pinned you as more of a fast fashion type, considering your loose morals.” He had seen them wearing clearly upper-end clothing before, but didn’t want to inflate their ego any more than necessary.

The shock collar went off for just a second and he yelped, having nearly forgotten its presence. 

“I own a house. I can afford clothes that won’t fall apart when I so much as breathe on the seams.”

“Ohhhhhh, no wonder your landlord hasn’t checked on me yet.” They snapped their fingers directly in front of his eyes and he flinched. At least it wasn’t another shock.

“I asked you a question, remember? My free time.”

“Did you want a different answer? I said hobbies that aren’t torture.”

“And I’m saying you’re wrong.”

“Right, I forgot there’s another man chained up in every room of- hhhck!” He doubled over, instinctively trying to dodge the hurt. “What?! Do all of your hobbies somehow incorporate torture now?” 

Silence was a strange answer to that question.

“That doesn’t seem healthy.” In more ways than one. The second part almost slipped out before he bit his tongue.

The collar didn’t shock, but it vibrated softly in warning.

“Have you ever hyperfixated on a person rather than a subject or activity?” Hasan asked.

“Oh my god. I’m your hyperfixation.” It didn’t answer their question, but it was the intended conclusion. “Oh my god.”

“You’ve gone pale, Dec.” He jerked away from the hand on his cheek, but the collar nudged him and he let them touch. “Is it really that big of a deal to you?”

“I know what a hyperfixation is like.”

“Well?” They wanted to hear details.

“Well, I don’t know if you hyperfixate the same way I do, but I tend to associate anything and everything back to it.”

“Yes, I as well.”

Nausea slithered somewhere between his stomach and his throat.

“So all of your downtime is spent relating all your favorite things back to hurting me.” Though phrased as a question, it most certainly wasn’t. The spark in Hasan’s eyes understood that all too well.

“What can I say? It’s an obsession.”

Declan turned in his seat staring intently at the television, willing it to unpause so he could stop thinking and play, but it could never be quite so easy. A hand in his hair forced him back to Hasan, now so close their noses could touch. 

“You’re so tense…” A light touch over his sternum. “Let’s unwind with a game. What rules were we already playing with?” The shock remote in the corner of his vision told him they remembered quite clearly, and an attempt to lessen the stakes wouldn’t end well.

“We were playing seven random races for choice of takeout and use of my free time.” Declan couldn’t hide the tremor in his hands as he fiddled with the controller.

“Ah, no, that won’t do. If I lost ownership of your free time tonight I might go mad.” They tapped his cheek in thought. “We’ll restart from race one. I’ll play you for choice of takeout… and choice of weapon.”

[puppyypawsss]

Health anxiety is so fucking ridiculous. I swear, my period is due in nine days and I’m like “ why boob hurt :( “ when this straight up happens every damn time of the month. Pms exists. Fuck.

[bilightningwhumper]

MC Portraits for "Belonging to Nightmares"

Made a new header image using games from Dolldivine.com. I didn't use any of the games that asked not to use it as character creation, at least that I could see (also left the watermarks on to credit the creators of the games). On the left is Minna (and thus, all of her sisters as well) and on the right is Kyrie from my "Belonging to Nightmares" story. Farthermost ends are when they're whumpees, the center during happier times.

Hard to get it right, though. You can't see the eyes and some of the hair color is off. Minna has brown hair with grey eyes and Kyrie has black hair with brown eyes (I'll admit, I did mess up on the far pictures for the eyes, mostly because I forgot who had which and realized after I'd already made the header, my bad). Kyrie's skin color is closer to the middle picture rather than the right, though a slightly darker pink/tan. She's also smaller than Minna, just tall enough that Minna could rest her chin on top of Kyrie's head without discomfort. Even if I used the Sims 4, I'd still have the same issue. -_- But hey, close enough.

[bilightningwriter-writing]

Hey all! So on my other side-blog, @bilightningwhumper, I had some polls and posts about the Sapphic Romeo and Juliet-inspired Angels/Demons story (other inspo fandoms in the tags of this post). I'm moving it over here since it's not going to be as whumpy as I originally planned. Not to worry, it will have some, but I'm going to focus more on the romance and drama aspect than the whump.

So if you're interested, follow over here! No pressure, though. And if you're interested in art of the two main characters (Morrigon/Morgan- Demon/Romeo; Evangeline- Angel/Juliet), I have them in my header now. I'll have some writing tidbits for it soon.

[whump-queen]

alright that’s enough of that. you’re destroying my door jams.

@whumpasaurus101

[b0amagination]

Looked at this post earlier and said "nah I didn't do that" and just now unlocked a memory of a doctor play kit at the house of some extended family members. Whenever I was there I would find an excuse to sneak away from the Intense Ping Pong Games in the basement to the other room where they kept it so I could put on the fake bandages and play make believe that I was hurt.

And then try to get other people's attention so they'd come play hurt with me.

No idea why nobody was as invested in pretending to be in pain as I was.

When you were at school or at the playground playing those ~capture the other team~ games, were you an "oh no!! :((( :3c I am captured :( you got me! :))" kinda child or were you normal?

[defire]

Back to the Dregs Part 3

Part 1 Next:

Overall story Cw because I forgot to add this earlier: beatings, kidnapping, captivity, gang violence, explicit rape, nonconsensual nudity, forced to watch, memories of child abuse, flogging (after a fashion)

Cw (for this part): beating, kidnapping, reference to broken bones

Listening to the rumble of the truck's wheels under the floor where his face pressed, Michael felt like he was drowning in panic and flashback.

This isn't who I am.

I'm not six years old with a mom that hates me. I'm not twelve with a backpack full of drugs.

I'm a man. I have a job. I have a guy on my side, and coworker that… well, I like him.

Michael wasn't that helpless kid anymore, no matter how trapped, angry, panicked…

He squeezed his eyes shut as if he could block out the feelings and focused on rotation of the wheels under his head.

The singing of a highway meant they were now probably going around sixty. If he could find a marker for time, maybe he could figure out how many miles out from Cleveland they'd gone based on miles-per-hour, and then he could make a few guesses about what area they were in when they arrived.

His wrists and arms hurt, stressed and sore, with the hard plastic ziptie digging into his bare skin and the circulation slow and pulsing.

He groaned and got to his knees, lungs aching with the deeper breaths.

"Stay down." Someone warned.

His old instincts told him to obey, stay quiet, hunker down, and hope for mercy.

Fuck that.

Michael wasn't that kid anymore. Anything but that; anything to get away from that old identity that he hated.

Even as he pictured being crushed and beat down under six people, hands tied behind his back, bones breaking, he was getting to his feet.

He staggered a step back as he rose, and an invisible hand swiped in front of his face in the blackness. His back thumped against the wall, and his fingers were too numb to sense the metal that chilled his forearms.

The second swipe got him by the shoulder, and a punch immediately followed up, sending him back down with a wail of pain, this time falling onto a pile of tires halfway to the floor.

"Turn on a light, will you Gabe?" Jordie's voice came out of the darkness.

Gabe didn't answer, but there was a click and the truck, which was now rumbling away from Michael's house, was lit up by one of those stick-on LED lights, which was stuck to the ceiling.

The light showed Gabe and three others in the back, and two much scarier thugs in the front. One was the first guy with the gun. The one on Michael's right, Jordie, he was pretty sure, was wrapping his knuckles with medical tape.

"Thanks." Jordie said to Gabe without even glancing back. He was glaring at Michael as he wrapped the white tape around his knuckles, not even looking down to check his technique. If he kept that roll of tape in his pocket for occasions like this, Michael was not surprised that he had a lot of practice.

"You bust my lip," Jordie said. "I bust your jaw."

Michael's eyes widened.

"Fuck, wait, I was only defending myself--"

"Now wait, Jordie," The first man put a hand on his arm. "We need him."

"Then let's record me breaking his jaw." Jordie shrugged, reaching for Michael, who recoiled back reflexively, only to hit the wall with his back.

He had to fight back. Being known as a fighter could make people decide that you weren't the trouble of fucking with. Besides, it was much better for his mental health than just taking it.

The man's hand closed around his jaw, middle finger jabbing into his cheek, pressing into his molars.

"We need him to be able to talk, Jordie."

Jordie's eyes sparkled with rage.

"I'm not taking whatever you dish out." Michael pushed the words out through his teeth.

Gabe, back in the other side of the truck, chuckled.

"Took it pretty well back there."

"Fuck you."

Michael attempted to get to his feet again, but Jordie struck his head against the metal side of the truck.

"Alright, fine," Jordie said, not letting go. "I won't break his jaw."

Let me know if you want to be tagged

Taglist: @fleur-a-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whumped-by-glitter

[whump-obsessed-less-stressed]

Umm... hi! ?

I've been lurking around here for almost a year aand I've finally built up the courage to make my own blog?? Idek? oh wow never expected that tbh I'm surprised of myself

Name: My name is Em, Ems or Wrath, pick your poison lol

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: Umm old enough but also young??

About me: Ummm- I'm in multiple fandoms (like A TON), average whump enjoyer (maybe a bit more than that but shh), I like writing (duh), I do fencing?? (Whumpy sport??? I mean I get to stab people with swords-), I've got adhd and way too much free time! Chronically online. Book & fanfic addict

Whump: I've always enjoyed whump since I was a little kid but I was always veery much embarassed because I thought it was wrong ("Oh yes let's play doctor but you're actually an evil psycho who wants to do experiments on me" "..........." "WHAT THE-"). Then I found that there's people like me in here! Love me some whumper friends.

TROPES/WHUMPY STUFF I ENJOY YAY:

Lady whump

Used as a bait

Pet whump

Bound/gagged

Lab rat whump

Magic whump

RESTRAINTS!!!!

Betrayal whump

ENVIRONMENTAL WHUMP

MAGIC!! Eg. Supernatural whumpees/whumpers etc.

Probably a ton more but those are the most important ones?

Blogs: So, my fav blogs are @painsandconfusion @whumpninja @whumblr @whump-is-love-whump-is-life @whumpshaped @whumperofworlds @jump-in-the-whump @jordanstrophe aand many other ones though--

Might make a post about my whumpees/whumpers/caretakers and WIPS later?

[whumpinthepot]

Whumpee who is unable to take their medication (anxiety, anti psychotic, depression, adhd meds, harder substances they’re addicted to, what have you,) goes through withdrawal sickness. Shaking, nausea, brain zaps, mood swings, sweats, disorientation, body pains, headaches, plus their symptoms coming back full throttle.

This could happen for a number of reasons. Kidnapping, apocalypse, lost in the woods, or even not being able to afford a refill. Any of these reasons would wildly change the outcome too. Especially if it’s cold turkey and not tapered down.

Are they being tortured while experiencing the withdrawals? Are they trying to run from zombies but they’re out of breath and shaking so hard they don’t think they’ll make it? Lost in the woods with double vision, and their symptoms crashing down on them while they stumble around trying to find a way out? Or are they safe at home able to lay under soft blankets while caretaker makes them a cup of tea and puts on a comfort movie?

[defire]

Mine's female and blue with horns and red eyess and I don't think she's straight but we haven't gotten there yet

Dance of Death is about a teenage girl that is known for provoking high nobles with soft-spoken sarcasm. She goes from noble to slave and eventually is the core of a revolution by the end of the first book.

honestly there needs to be more diversity in whump

mainly because i'm sick of hearing about people's cis white male whumpees HAVE SOME ORIGINALITY

when all your whumpees look the same its rly hard for me to care about any of them

if you have a main whumpee who isn't a cis white male pleaaase comment or reblog with some infodumping bc i'd love to hear about them!

[whump-galaxy]

Sensory whump? I often see sensory deprivation but not as much overstimulation. Too-bright lights. Noises or videos playing far too loudly from speakers far too close to Whumpee. Perfume or just generally strong scents. Maybe make the lights flicker. I just realized I’m describing places people go to for fun… oops? But still, sensory whump!!!

Oh man, I need to find that old post about ADHD whump. Iirc it was exactly this kind of stuff!

[bilightningwhumper]

Another story poll, whoops, lol (bit of a long read)

Alright, so I have an idea for yet another story because having ADHD is nice to me sometimes. Originally, I thought of making this part of the TNEI stuff, but now I'm leaning more towards it having its own thing. If only because having it part of that series would delay me starting the rest of the stories there even more as I re-work world-building to make this fit.

To start off: it's a lady/female whump story idea. Multiple whumpers, but all the whumpees here are female. Main MC for the primary idea is a nonverbal/echolalic autistic lesbian, so there is that (let me know if that's considered semi-verbal or not when her echolalia is rare). Other neurodivergent and lgbt+ characters as always. Lab whump definitely, some supernatural-ish elements, but depending on if this is in TNEI or not will determine more how/why for that.

Basically, a 12 Dancing Princess retelling where all the sisters are clones of a now deceased famous dancer, created and raised by a rich scientist/professor who is the dancer's widower. If it is its own thing, 50-50 shot I make it a living weapons deal, at the very least they're magical and/or superpowered in nature (kind of like an Umbrella Academy deal, though I'll admit, I never got past the first season of that for personal reasons). Anyway, as I've said, things would be easier here to make it on its own than to put them in the TNEI fics, though I could do it with revamping a lot of world-building as long as folks are willing to wait.

The main story would concentrate on Clone 3, who, in her cloning process, developed as autistic (and nonverbal). A few of her other sisters did too, but she is the most "obvious/severe" as well as nearly died during creation. Because of her differences, she's the only one of her sisters who remained at home with the professor and didn't get sent to one of the private boarding schools the others went to. At first she was favored and spoiled by the professor, making her sisters resent her. But the older they all got, the more the professor became all cagey and, in turn, became abusive to 3 because she wasn't living up to his expectations like his other clones were, increasing his experiments on her without the others' knowledge. In that time period, the professor dies (spoilers as to why, though may be prologue?). Because of his will, other scientists take over his work. Even though all the clones are above legal age, they're listed as property rather than people. So these new scientists begin experimenting on them using the bottom half of the mansion, leaving the top half for them to still use to live in, as per the professor's wishes. No one is allowed to leave. 3 is used to abuse and resentment from most of her sisters for her "special treatment," but is also used to protecting them from the professor and his experiments, so she keeps the same role when the new scientists come, taking the more severe punishments her sisters accrue without them being aware, as she has a superhuman healing mutation (though it does have its quirks/weaknesses). Eventually, they find out, but that's for the story to tell when and how.

Unlike the haunted mansion idea (which I am planning on starting eventually), I'm unsure how this one is going to end. But knowing me, it's not going to be a sad ending, so there is that.

If I keep it as part of TNEI, things would only stick with Clone 3 and not any of her sisters at a later point. If I have it on its own, I can branch off for mini stories featuring the other sisters *AND* I'd be moving the modern/medieval mix to this instead of TNEI, as I've been having trouble merging things because of my past drafts still influencing the writing for the series.

I also have another idea-ish for a Greek gods thing, but that's kind of a branch-off of this one and Temptations of Fate, so eh? If I can create a different enough story idea for that one, I'll do it, but for now, leaving that alone. I've already got enough stories as is, lol.

[newbornwhumperfly]

okay okay okay…i can’t get over how good of a gift this is 😭😭😭💖💖💖🥹🥹🥹 i am so touched to receive a WRITING…a fanfiction for MY BOYS? i have been kicking my heels in delight 🥹🥹🥹

your description of Morja as “heart of gold and black of hair” is GORGEOUS and it made me jealous i didn’t come up with it myself, agh. 😍😍😍

However, it's got to get done, and that fueled the fire that burned dimly in Morja's heart. It puttered and flickered softly, pushing him to achieve usefulness and goodness.

aghhhhhh, this part??? you really captured the stoic defiance that burns within morja, i won’t lie that mental image made me choke up a little. that’s such an accurate description of how he feels. 😭😭😭

also, that moment where Jorah claps in Morja’s face to get his attention was so patronizing and petty, god that’s perfect - Jorah is like a bullying schoolteacher, isn’t he? 😈😈😈🥺🥺🥺

Handsome face, charming smile. What more could anyone ask for, really?

this line??? that’s it. that’s him right there. it’s all about appearences babyyyy 😈 (🎶 it’s not about aptitude, it’s the way you’re viewed…🎶)

and the WHUMP??? agh??? i love how brutal and mocking it was? the moment when Morja felt his broken ribs shuffling under his skin made me visibly wince, god, that was really evocative. everything from Jorah pulling Morja’s hair to his degrading insults to the intensity of the injury was chef’s kiss. 😩

writer, something that struck me so hard throughout this chapter was your deep care for morja? it really shone through the page how much you despised jorah’s pathetic unkindness and how much you admired morja and lamented the unfairness he was subjected to. just…it warms my soul to see my boy loved and it was really clear that you loved him and it makes me so very touched. 🥹🥹🥹💖💖💖😭😭😭

and AGH, the picrews at the end??? what a special extra treat??? the jorah one is absolute PERFECTION, how did you capture his likeness so WELL?? i am obsessed. 😍😈😍 and morja looks like such a smol bean, poor dear, i wanted to scoop him up 🥺🥺🥺 and what a pretty moodboard too? truly i am spoiled by abundance - there was such a solemn, dark aesthetic vibe to the moodboard that i really love with the black and gold and the dignity and suffering all portrayed in such simple yet effective images. i love it?? 😍😭

Happy holidays, @newbornwhumperfly!

Content: broken bones, concussion, whipping

Handsome face, charming smile. What more could anyone ask for, really? It was easy to prey on the smaller man, being tall meant somethings came naturally easy. Somethings that may or may not inculde towering over grovelling slaves. That was all part of Jorah's job description, anyway.

The slave being put in place, in question, was Morja. A shorter man, with dark brown eyes that held the world. Heart of gold and black hair to boot.

Morja soon learned that life wasn't about living anymore, it was about surviving. And that is a very scary thing in itself. However, it's got to get done, and that fueled the fire that burned dimly in Morja's heart. It puttered and flickered softly, pushing him to achieve usefulness and goodness.

It went without saying, he needed "correction". He needed "guidance" and "purpose". And Jorah gave that to him. Their relationship tended to teeter on whether or not Morja complied. Which, he always did.

"Morja." Jorah said, clapping in his face. Morja snapped to, straightening his positioning.

"Didn't you hear me?" Jorah asked, eyes flashing in annoyance.

"I'm sorry, Sir... I- I didn't." Morja said, stiffening. He was in an inspection pose, that of his arms being on his head whilst his legs were shoulder width apart.

"You are such a disappointment, you useless bitch." Jorah growled out, his temper flaring.

Morja whimpered softly, just barely audible. His positioning faltered breifly. The ends of Jorah's mouth turned upwards, exhaling a cocky "that's right dumbass" bit of air. It was clear by Morja's fragile state that Jorah could do just about anything to the poor dear.

In a flash, Jorah wrapped his hand around Morja's hair, tugging very sharply. With his head stinging pins and needles, he whispered out, "So-sorry. I'm so sorry, please let me do good Sir, please." Jorah smiled at that. The fun was no where near done, though.

Slamming Morja to the ground, Jorah ground his foot against Morja's back. Pressing harshly, a good bit of air was forced out of Morja's lungs, rasping for breath with every passing second. It took a moment to register what exactly just happened to Morja.

"What do you have to say about your pathetic state? Hm? You are absolutely not worthy of grace. You know exactly what you did. Don't you?" Jorah spit with every sharp vowel.

"Sir, ple-please. I don.. I don't know." Morja wheezed out. His raspy breathing quickened immensely, brain processing.

"What was that pretty boy?" Jorah smirked, grinding his heel into Morja's back. Morja's fingers curled, sharp grunts and whimpers escaped his gaping mouth.

Peering down at the trembling slave, Jorah stomped with all his might. Eyes wide and panicked, Morja could feel something snap. Perhaps a rib or two. That couldn't be good

The piercing, stabbing pain blossomed immediately, a sharp scream ripping his throat raw and burned. Curling into himself, Morja couldn't properly describe the pain that followed.

As soon as his breathing caught up, faster than belief, he coughed. Bile rose in his throat, and he could feel his ribs bustling with agonizing sharpness.

Jorah tugged Morja's head up, who's cheeks had a steady stream of tears pouring from his puffy eyes.

"S-Sir... Please" Morja whispered out, clenching his chest. His heart pounded and throbbed in his ears. A good bit of ringing bounced around his head. God, every single word hit his ribs like a brick, grating against the pain.

"Remember your place, bitch." Jorah snarled, inches away from Morja's face. Morja was miserable, head swimming in pain and drowning in fear.

Slamming Morja's head against the wall, he stood. Wiping his hands free of Morja, Jorah looked disgusted.

Pain flowered immediately, a flash of light running through his field of vision. Static appeared, the ringing in his ears was deafining. The room swam, disoriented and dazed.

"Now, what did we learn? Hmm? Come now love, speak up." Jorah said, smiling a bit when Morja coughed, spitting up bile.

"S-sir.... Forgive me, I- I'm sorry." Morja said, wincing with every word. Jorah snapped and pointed at his feet.

"Go on then, where you belong. Chop chop." Jorah said, with a hint of eagerness. Morja army crawled over, breathing sparse. Grunts and all matter of pained noises came garbled out of Morja.

After a great deal of struggling, Morja finally reached Jorah's feet. Collapsing on the floor, he screamed when Jorah kicked harshly.

"Ple-please Sir, please. I'm sorry. So so-sorry. Please.” Morja hissed out, hands flashing to protect his ribs.

"What makes you think I'll give you mercy? You know exactly what you did. I'm simply keeping you in your place." Jorah mused, staring at the trembling slave.

Wheezing, Morja could barely catch his breath between the kicking. His head swam, trying to center himself. Eyes wide and terrified, all Morja could do was gasp for much needed air.

"...Y-yes Sir." Morja whispered out, praying the kicks would cease soon. Unsatisfied with Morja's response, Jorah slammed Morja's back against the wall, pinning him.

Jorah's nails dug in Morja's arms so hard that little beads of blood soon started to form. Tipping Morja's chin up with the end of his whip, he started intently into the withering eyes of Morja.

Streams of hopeless tears formed, racing down his cheek. Morja racked his dizzy brain for anything he might've done wrong. Did he possibly get too comfortable with his new life? Was this really because he was laxing on his standards? The more Morja thought, the more he believed it.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, goddamn it. I am your superior. You listen to me. I don't know how many times I have to drill it into your brain how much of a worthless soldier you are." Jorah barked out.

Morja's gaze moved upwards. Through all the blurry tears he could barely see Jorah, whimpering.

The fun was just beginning, for Jorah had somehow turned Morja around, and tied Morja's hands above him through a lowered beam in the rafters.

Things were, unfortunately heating up. Jorah took the whip and slammed it against Morja's back, his scream echoing in the loney chamber.

Handsome face, charming smile. What more could anyone ask for, really?