#caning whump

[doumidas-whumps]

afraid to touch me?

[paingoes]

Rubies - Trial III

the prosecution makes its argument

(Content: living weapon whumpee, past trauma, referenced child abuse, referenced caning, past emotional abuse, war, guilt, parental death mention, child death mention, emotional whump, crying, angst, comfort)

In the Emperor’s quarters, the dead far outnumbered the living. Delta knelt upon the bearskin run and ran his fingers through its thick white fur. He wanted to reach for the mouth of it, to feel the teeth, but he dared not move without permission. The fresh cane marks along his calves made sure of that.

“Here, boy.”

The Emperor had taken to calling him boy, which he found strange and overfamiliar. To his handlers, he had always been One-Oh-Seven. More and more, it has simply been Delta. There was no need for numeration when there were no others.

He rose up off of the carpet, taking silent steps until he stood in front of the weary form of the old man. 

The doctor was nowhere to be seen. For this, he was grateful.

A hand heavy with time and with rings pressed against his forehead. Did he look sick? He didn’t mean to. The Emperor would find no fever there, at any rate. Delta ran cold.

“Are the stars all in alignment tonight, poppet?” He withdrew his hand. “Will today be a good day?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

There was no gap in between their words. There was no hesitation. He would be punished for lying just as quickly as for failing, so he was careful not to lie. Of course today would be a good day. 

Delta was excellent.

But the Emperor still searched him. It was not illness he had sensed. 

“Is everything alright?”

The concern in his voice only made the sting worse. Delta looked down in shame.

It was sullenness. That was all. He was cold all over, soaked with shame. It was bad, he knew. He was supposed to take all punishment without complaint, but Delta so seldom needed correction. It hurt all the more when it did come. He couldn’t get the chill of it to leave him. He’d been torn into. 

Unfit, the doctor had said. Unworthy of the privilege. Disgraceful.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Delta responded, the shame of it deepening. He hadn’t meant to sulk about it. He was only proving their point.

There was nothing wrong with his ability to perform, which is all the Emperor had really been asking. A little emotional hurt had never impacted his powers before — thank god for that. Today would be no exception.

With that, the Emperor rose up. Delta followed a half-step behind him. He was getting on in age. It was never hard to keep up.

They walked all the way past the war room, out onto the deck of the ship. The air was thin in the upper atmosphere, but it was getting more bearable upon the descent. There were a collection of advisors and generals gathered about by the railing. Delta kept his head bowed respectfully, careful not to look them dead on. With the Emperor there, he knew they wouldn’t dare touch him. But it was a deeply ingrained habit and one he saw no reason to break.

There was a pressure at his shoulder. It was meant to be reassuring, but it only scared him worse. He could see the target below. Its perimeter was painted in a pale orange color.

They wanted showy this time.

Space was made around him as they clicked the collar off of his neck. He closed his eyes. The light was painful. All the hearts beating so close were distracting. 

Disgraceful. He felt the sting of fear in his chest and prickling at his eyes. It was going to hurt. He was getting frigid in a way he hadn’t before. He didn’t want to be hurt.

He zeroed in on the target anyway, visualizing its delimitation among the pale. He wished they’d given him something to hold onto. All he had now were his own hands and his nails cutting indents into the palms. Showy. The world snapped as the target was turned to dust.

The collar clicked back on. Blood was already pooling in his throat and in his sinuses. The migraine aura descended. He swayed, but not fall. The Emperor’s hand steadied him there. It moved calming circles into his back. He heard the applause, but to him it sounded miles away.

“Incredible.” The Emperor had whispered into his ear. “You were wonderful.”

And like that, he was glowing. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t supposed to feel a thing, but the warmth of the praise made itself at home in him. It was the only time he let himself feel anything close to pride — and he could have lived in its light. It was almost worth it. He felt sick enough to die and it was almost worth it.

~~~~~~

Silas placed the blank sheet of paper down onto the desk and slid it towards him. His expression was grim.

“I want you to write down every target you can remember hitting. Names and dates. It doesn’t have to be exact.”

The room was small and dark, not much bigger than a broom closet. Maryam sat beside him at the table. He had a legal right to keep her there — and thought he had not asked her to, she volunteered to accompany him. 

Delta rocked his leg a little as he felt at the rough graphite of the pencil.

He took the order for what it was. He had a good sense for it. There were some things he struggled to remember, but in general, his memory was better than most. He had been allowed no distractions. He’d had no choice but to focus in.

He started with the earlier days of his imperial career — the battleship he’d crushed on the water, the first show of strength before the purchase was made. And then there was all that came after. He was never told until the day of what he would be after, but he remembered them all the same.

Marisol

Pyrha

Holliday

Basalt

Clover

Killian

Versus

He wrote mechanically, appending the dates as best as he could. He’d already made up this list in his mind several times. He’d have offered it to Levon if things had gone differently, but as it stood, he’d never been given the chance.

Regina

Ursa

Deidra

Anatol

Timber

Jocobe

Weissan

He soon ran out of space on the page. He write in a smaller script around the margins.

“That’s enough,” Maryam said, eyeing the prosecutor nervously. Delta kept writing.

“You can stop now,” Silas agreed, reaching to take the paper back.

“I’m not done,” Delta snapped. 

He recoiled just as soon as he’d said it. He didn’t know where he’d gotten the nerve to speak like that, to talk back at all, and especially not to them. He dropped the pencil and drew back into the chair, fully expecting to get smacked in the mouth, bare minimum. 

The hit didn’t come. Silas took the paper and examined it without much reaction. It was a long list — and that was only with the Emperor. He hadn’t even gotten to Paris yet.

“Can I ask you something? For my own curiosity?” Silas said.

Delta looked up at him.

“About how far away from the target are you when activated?”

“…A mile, sir.” Delta tapped at the chair.

He nodded. “What’s the closest you’ve ever been to someone you’ve killed?”

He heard Maryam scoff beside him, but he thought it was a fair question, if an abrupt one. He had to think about it for a second. As the answer came to him, he felt the shock of ocean water, stealing just as much breath from him as it had the first time.

He held his hands up to demonstrate, having no other way to quantify the distance. Right up against his body. He’d garroted him, wrapped the chains around his neck and held him there. The water had done the rest. He hadn’t even used his powers.

“Daniel Martino,” he answered quietly, “The same night I got picked up.”

It was his most recent kill  — and if Levon’s word was anything to believe in, it would be the last. 

He hadn’t told anyone about it until now.

“Your handler?” Silas asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Silas and Maryam exchanged a look he could not read.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t fault you for that.” Silas folded the paper into his pocket.

The clemency caught him off guard. Delta looked down, embarrassed all the same.

~

The shades were drawn in the conference room. It was a stormy day outside — Delta could imagine how the static might’ve felt on his skin had he been out there. For now, all he could do was imagine it.

“Delta,” the prosecutor drew his attention back, “I asked you a question.”

Silas was sharper with him when there was a crowd. He was familiar with this tactic. It didn’t register to him as a surprise, only as a kind of dull pain.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Delta said weakly, but sincerely. “…Could you repeat it, please?”

He usually would not have been bold enough to make requests, but then he usually wouldn’t have zoned out in the first place.

“Were the accounts of lateral violence within the Institute true?” He asked, then clarified: “Were the students there encouraged to hurt one another?” 

“Yes, sir.” Delta closed his eyes. He did not need to guess the next question.

“Did you ever use your powers to injure the other students?”

Not because he wanted to. He didn’t know if he was allowed to answer with that. It had been a yes-or-no question — and his handlers had gotten mad whenever he tried to explain himself around it. He didn’t know if the same rules would apply here.

“Yes, sir.”

He caught the concerned looks of the others at the conference table. The council members had shown him no scorn so far, in spite of everything. He dreaded losing it. But in his mind, it was an inevitability. He couldn’t make himself look back.

“Did you ever kill any of them?”

It wasn’t the same as injuring. The administration had loved to use him as a threat long before he was in the imperial service. He’d always be the first they brought out they sent to scare the others into submission. After the first few times — cracked ribs, broken arms, and painful shocks — any actual violence wasn’t needed. The threat alone was enough.

That wasn’t the same as killing. While the punishment had been painful, the kills were quick. Those were for safety alone. Nobody ever died as a punishment. They died because they were about to kill everyone else.

It’d been a yes-or-no question. The answer was yes, obviously.

“Yes, sir.” 

He kept his eyes down. Kitty shifted a bit to his left. He didn’t want to see the way her face changed when she found out.

Silas ended his line of questioning. The lights dimmed further as the video began to play.

PYRHA 08

SOL 07

The caption showed against the grainy white backdrop. He could see the town in his mind before it was shown on the screen. It was before the disaster. Jade was pushed up into the edges of the home. All their streets were still cobblestone. From above, as he had seen it, the town looked to be built into a crescent moon shape. The blue tops of buildings stood out against the pale sand.

“…There was this burning, endless light…”

The voiceover played over still frames of the cloud. The images clipped together in animation. He saw the tip of the airship approaching the edge of the sky.

Whoever had produced the documentary had no knowledge of the cause. How could they? It was a superweapon, they were sure, but how could they have known what? 

All they could do was to quantify it. The ground temperature had reached the same peak as the sun. The duration lasted ten to fifteen seconds — 12.945 seconds, Delta corrected in his mind. There’d been no warning. 2,031 people had died. About five hundred families.

The focus was the math — and more than that, the footage. Few of his attacks had ever been so well documented. But almost as an aside, they had spoken to some of the eye witnesses.

A girl with chestnut brown hair smiled sadly into the camera as she held up the picture. The image quality changed again as a video from inside her house began to play. He could not tell if she was the infant or the child holding onto it inside the cedar living room. The camera shifted angles to capture their mother grinning on the couch, clapping along to the silent song. 

There was some primordial ache in him that would not sleep. It’d always burned too hot. After the first few times, he’d learned not to touch it.

He felt it burning now, pressed up against his skin with no escape.

“And my friends always made fun of me for being such a townie, because I had to ride the bus two hours just to get to school,” the girl chirped softly, “And I remember that morning, my mom telling me not to stay too long after classes. She wanted me to come straight home that day because-“

Her voice broke. 

“Because we were going to go out as a family.”

The clip cut away to the moment the sky tore open.

Delta stood up before he knew what he was doing. He stumbled blindly away from the table, pushing out into the hall.

He’d taken her parents from her. Ripped her away from them, the same way he’d been ripped away from his own. The loss cut through him sharper than he could ever remember. 

He was crying. He couldn’t stop it. The sorrow and fear enveloped him in equal measures. He’d walked out. He hadn’t been dismissed, he’d never walked out like that in all his life. But he couldn’t stand to hear anymore. He didn’t want them to see him cry.

He wanted his mom. It was silly. He didn’t even know what she looked like. She clearly hadn’t wanted him.

“Delta?” Levon called after him. He stopped dead. He was recall trained — he wouldn’t dare move farther. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He didn’t think he could.

He sank to the floor instead. He tried to hide his tears, but his body shook from the effort. He was still good about being quiet when he was hurt. He was trying very hard to be good about it.

A soft sob escaped him anyway. Levon bent down onto the floor beside him.

“That was too far. I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.” Levon placed one hand lightly onto his shoulderblade. His thumb worked over the knots that had formed there, so bound up and painful.

“I’m sorry,” Delta said. It was always the first thing to come out of his mouth these days, no matter how much they tried to correct it. 

He remembered how young he was at the time. He remembered how proud he’d been.

“I didn’t know,” Delta said through tears, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know, baby,” Levon’s voice got quiet. It didn’t echo. No one else could have heard. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Then, even quieter, the admission: “It’s not your fault.”

Delta sobbed into his sleeve, leaning over so that his face almost touched the ground. He wished he could stop it. It was taking everything out of him.

He felt a gentle tug at his sleeve. It was an invitation. He accepted it before he could stop himself, too desperate for any semblance of comfort. Levon pulled him into the hug. His cries grew muffled as he hid his face in the fabric of the shirt.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Levon said, the pain audible in his voice. He carded his hands through the boy’s hair, doing all he could to soothe him.

“I didn’t mean to,” came the soft whine in response.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

@bacillusinfection @dietofwormsofficial @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

@jumpywhumpywriter

[weirdstrangeandawful]

If we’re going to have physically disabled whumpees making miraculous recoveries in whump then we at least need some more variety, eh?

You can keep the whumpees relearning to walk after time in a wheelchair (if you show the insane amount of work that goes into that recovery, that is) but let’s add some more:

Whumpees who need custom orthotics, pacing themselves just enough to be able to wear those fancy shoes for a night

Whumpees who use crutches discovering building enough wrist strength to use a cane (or two canes)

Whumpees with crutches moving from four-point gait to alternating gait

Whumpees in wheelchairs learning to self-propel with their feet

Whumpees who use shower chairs learning some compensatory techniques to avoid fainting for short periods of time so they can take warm showers again

Whumpees progressing from two-wheeled walker to four-wheeled rollator and going zoooom!

And lastly let’s not forget the all-important

Physically disabled whumpees who discover the freedom that is mobility aids

[lexidius]

dear percy jackson fandom

you can crosstag every post about a character with every unrelated character and ship name under the sun even if it doesn't have a single microscopic trace of that character in the post, but you can't warn for character death mentions, spoilers or whump? really??? or are you still too stuck on lolsorandomXDDD style humour about the fucking brick???

learn to tag your posts correctly. i shouldn't have to blacklist my favourite character's name tag - the actual tag with just their name - purely to avoid seeing jokes about their death.

i've been seeing the fandom do this shit for eight fucking years now.

eight. years. that's way too long.

[dragyouthroughthewhump]

Augusnippets Day 11 : Breaking the Conditioning

I kinda like this one a lot? I can totally make a part two to this if there's interest.

CW : It as a pronoun, conditioned whumpee, living weapon whump, implied team whump

It stood there, staring out the window. The others were running back and forth, kicking some ball between them. It didn't know the rules of the game but could tell there were two teams and by the happy shouts when points were made.

It was analyzing their moves. Second needed to tighten their core. Fifth needed to stretch their legs more. Eighth needed to relax their shoulders and breathe deeper.

It continued with mental notes as it watched. Though it knew that these comments weren't to be made aloud. They would stay as notes. The group wasn't training. They weren't acting as weapons. Despite what it would call a war game, this was just only a game.

It didn't react as Caretaker walked up beside it, having heard the soft telltale footsteps of their house-shoes. It knew and cataloged each one's footsteps. Whether firm, soft, loud, short, even the cadences across the hallway and stairs. Even though the group was no longer at the compound, it had kept up its observational skills.

"You're analyzing again, aren't you, First?" Caretaker's face was in their peripheral now, their tone not accusing, just curious. It nodded, "They would not be acceptable like this. Before." Caretaker nodded, "The teams are uneven, have you considered joining them?"

"It-I. Had not considered joining. They would not act this way if I were involved." It knew that it had not made as much 'progress' as the others and usually it's presence alone made them all act in accordance with their training. It didn't know if it would ever learn to be a person.

"You're can't know that for sure, First. My recommendation is to try." It glanced back as Caretaker went back towards the kitchen, the smell of lemon flavored powder and cut citrus rinds were likely snack preparation for after the game. It disliked Caretakers 'recommendations'. It wanted orders, corrections, tasks, a mission. It wasn't supposed to think about going outside for 'fun'. It wasn't supposed to grapple with the decision to stay and watch or participate. It wanted to go back so often. To something familiar.

It blinked and glanced around as it was no longer looking at the game from behind the glass but had stalked it's way out the door in frustration. It wasn't supposed to be frustrated at all, it wasn't supposed to think or feel; but here it was letting thoughts run rampant because Caretaker wouldn't give it an order.

The others had paused their game, taking the chance to catch their breath, each set of eyes looking at First. But, their stances remained casual, no one moving to attention or straighting their posture. "It. I would like to join. If that would not be intrusive." The others glanced at each other, then Second smiled and nodded, "We needed one more to make it even. Need a brief of the rules?" It nodded and moved over to the smaller team as the rules were listed. It was surprised for so few rules, just manipulate the ball with your feet, no excessive force, keep the ball in the set perimeter, and two small sections were the targets. The game would end when they tired and the most target hits would win.

It glanced at the others and nodded to start the game again, a small bit of hope that it's presence wouldn't change the dynamic. The difficult part was refraining from using combat when it ran up to Third, who had the ball. It paused slightly as it adjusted to just using it's feet and Third grinned at the opening, taking the chance to run pass further down the field.

It immediately turned and went to grab Third's shirt. At the last moment it left it's fingers open, realizing that the action wouldn't be considered fun. Instead, it ran faster to catch up. It felt uncoordinated as it tried to kick out for the ball, only for it to be sent down the field towards Fourth.

Third smiled, "That wasn't proper footwork at all. Perhaps you can have fun." First flushed a few shades of red and glanced over. "Perhaps, I can. With all of you."

[defire]

I got pens and I drew my whumpee Nife from Dance of Death! Forgot the slave cuff. But look how scared she is!! This is from this chapter.

She is about to be magically tortured into submission and caned.

[just-here-for-the-whump]

Murdoch Mysteries 1x11 Bad Medicine

[whumpypepsigal]

Slowly, his limp pronounced but his back straight, Kaz made his way down the final flight of stairs, leaning heavily on the banister. When he reached the bottom, the remaining crowd parted.

Haskell’s grizzled face was red with fear and indignation. “You’ll never last, boy. Takes more than what you got to get past Pekka Rollins.”

Kaz snatched his cane from Per Haskell’s hand.

“You have two minutes to get out of my house, old man. This city’s price is blood,” said Kaz, “and I’m happy to pay with yours.

Excerpt From Crooked Kingdom, Leigh Bardugo

[serickswrites]

hello, I'm so happy you're back! I hope you're doing okay now

can I request something about a whumper who is always unsatisfied?

whumpee cleans the house? not clean enough

whumpee follows every command and behaves? not obedient enough.

whumpee messes up and apologizes? not sorry enough.

it's never enough, so whumpee gets tired with all of this and snaps, relishing a moment of dreadful eye contact with a much angrier whumper ready to punish them, they don't even have time to apologize

Hello, Anon! I'm glad to be back (while I can) since things are a little complicated right now. But writing is such a good outlet for me that I'm trying to be more committed since it makes me feel better when I do write.

I can absolutely write this request for you. I hope you don't mind, but this definitely feels like a good pet whump scenario in my brain. I hope that's ok!

Warnings: pet whump, emotional abuse, degradation, physical violence, caning, cruel whumper

The Pet hurried to finish cleaning the kitchen. They had spent the last hour ensuring it was spotless before the Master arrived home. They wanted the Master to be pleased. Things were much better when the Master was pleased.

The Pet knelt in the entryway, waiting for the Master to arrive. They had their arms outstretched ready to receive the Master's coat and bag.

"What is this," the Master said as they dumped their coat and bag into the Pet's waiting arms. "Can't you do anything right?"

"Master?" the Pet didn't understand.

"You're supposed to have my drink ready!" The Master said coldly as they walked into the kitchen.

The Pet quickly jumped up and put the Master's belongings in the coat closet and hurried to the kitchen. They had prepared the Master's drink. Usually the Master didn't want their drink as soon as they walked in the door. "My mistake, Master. Won't happen again, Master."

"And this place is filthy! What have you been doing all day? I should be able to see my face in this pot!" The Master threw the decorative pot at the Pet.

The Pet ducked. "Apologies, Master. Won't happen again, Master."

"You are absolutely useless!" The Master raised their voice further. "You are a waste of space. An absolute waste of money. A disgrace to the shop I bought you from! Kneel to receive punishment!"

The Pet dropped to their knees in front of the Master. "Yes, Master. As you wish, Master."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! YOU AREN'T DOING AS I SAY! WHERE IS MY DRINK YOU PIECE OF SHIT?"

The Pet flinched as the Master raised their fist. The Pet didn't know what they were supposed to do. The Master said kneel, so they knelt. The Master said get their drink, so they got the Master's drink. What else could they do? "Master?"

The Master grabbed the cane they kept in the kitchen cabinet and swatted the Pet across the arm. They kicked the Pet so their back and butt were exposed. "YOU." Swat. "ARE." Swat. "A." Swat. "WASTE." Swat. "OF." Swat. "SPACE." Swat.

The Pet tried not to scream or cry as the Master caned them. The Master didn't like when the Pet screamed or cried. "I....I....I am, M-M-Master," the Pet gasped as the Master hit them harder.

"Good," the Master sneered as they raised their arm once more, "you finally got something right."

[whumblr]

Scary words

Continuation from For Science - pt 1 here

-

“Wake up, Dani, darling. Time to learn something new.”

“Don’t call me that,” Dani shot back, scowling up to the ceiling. She was already awake, just lying flat on her back on the bed, staring up, waiting for him to unlock her door. Unfortunately, he lingered. Meaning he had plans. With her.

She turned her head towards him, but didn’t move to get up yet. “Me or you learning something new?”

Roman leaned casually against the doorframe. “I’m sure it will be beneficial to both of us.”

Mostly for him, then. And whatever she learned in the process was also positive for him. Reluctantly, she peeled herself from the bed and strode past him, shoulders held high.

She turned the corner, taking a first step in the direction of the library. She could still hope it was a day for theoretical knowledge instead of practical. But a soft “Uh-uh” made her stop. She turned and Roman was shaking his head, calling her back to him with a two-fingered gesture, nodding down the stairs and her stomach sank.

She should’ve known – he was wearing black, always a bad sign – but hope got her through most days.

Refusing to come with was no option, she’d learned. She could either walk along behind him, or be thrown ahead and be the first one down…

Dread increasing with every step, she followed him down to another set of stairs leading to the basement.

He held the door open for her. “Ladies first,” he said holding out his hand.

Without much choice, Dani went ahead. She braced herself for a shove in the back, hand tightly on the railing to catch herself, but there was nothing of the sort. Merely a soft nudge in the back to encourage her further in downstairs, as she couldn’t help freezing up at the by now familiar sight of the dark basement and the gleam of sharp objects in the sparse light there was.

He brushed past her, guiding her along with a hand on her shoulder blade.

And as he did, the sharp scent of his aftershave hit her. The sickly crisp smell lingered inside of her, unwilling to be expelled even as she exhaled hard. It swirled around, coated her stomach like oil, lining it with a fresh layer of fear.

“Come along,” he crooned, way too upbeat as he walked over to the wall where he had his tools displayed.

His voice snapped her back; lighting the flammable part of the fragrance lingering inside in anger. Though the next words also made her shoulders hitch.

“A wonderful day to experiment with nociception...” he said, fingers eagerly flicking the air as he tried to make a decision. He settled on a long, thin cane, tapping it against the palm of his hand as he turned to her.

“So, I noticed you’ve been reading the book on neuroscience and I want to know what you know about the receptors for sensation and pain.”

More than you, was what she wanted to bite back, but the words stuck somewhere along the way; either held back by some protective barrier in her brain or because something was growing inside her throat. Also, maybe she knew more about the receiving end of those receptors, sure, but unfortunately, he had her on practical know-how.

Not to mention the sadism part…

“I don’t think I’m up to that chapter ye—”

“Do not lie. Then why did you wince at the word nociception?”

“Because it’s a bad sign when you’re throwing big words around.”

Roman merely smiled at the little lie, but his expression turned menacing when he tipped his chin down. “Well, there are all kinds of scary words we could dig into today... Asphyxiation, flagellation..."

“Castration,” she offered.

“Your fire is amusing, but it does not hide your fear. Now…” He raised the cane, pointing at her and asked in a stern voice: “Nociception is...”

“To detect sensations of pain,” Dani droned, feeling it was better to cooperate here.

“Mhm,” he hummed in a neutral tone and he started forward, slowly circling her, tapping the cane in front of him on the ground. Soft taps echoed along with the clicks of his footsteps as he sauntered about. When she didn’t continue, his eyes snapped up, finding hers instantly. “Go on.”

“Erm…” She racked her brain trying to remember what else she’d read in that chapter. Not a whole lot, to be honest; she’d pretty much skipped ahead. In her current situation her life was filled with enough pain already, she didn’t really want to read more about it. Not to mention that she didn’t fully understand it all, either. The book went on and on about the chemical reactions in the body in response to stimuli, about neurons, enzymes, the central—ah.

“It’s a way for the central nervous system to detect stimuli that are damaging to the body and so to avoid further damage.”

“Good enough... you just earned yourself one less lash.”

How nice.

“Now, to put the theory to practice…”

Before she could even recoil, the cane snapped hard against the bare skin of her upper arm. She bit back a yelp and shot back. A red mark already blossomed up that tingled in the afterglow. Goddamn neurons. She covered it with her hand, glaring up at him, clenching her teeth to keep the pain bottled up.

“Oh. That didn’t hurt? You’re right I guess, I don’t need to hold back on you.”

He pulled the cane back in a backhand with a wicked smile. This time it cracked hard against her shoulder. Followed up with another just below the welt on her arm.

“So, your body remembers that pain and will try to avoid it again. Instinctively, you will recoil…” He raised the cane.

But she didn’t. Instead, she snapped forward, twisted her body along with his to avoid the hit and used his momentum as the cane swooshed wide past her to wrench it from his hands. She twirled on the spot and took a few steps back, now pointing the cane at him.

“Maybe you should adjust your hypothesis, asshole.” She couldn’t hold back a smug smile.

He didn’t seem fazed. “Maybe I should put in a punishment for each swear…” But while he still had that smile adorning his lips, the smile he always had when he tolerated – maybe even encouraged – her outbursts, his eyes told a different story.

He stepped forward and she raised the cane in self-defence.

“Try to hit me,” he said calmly, as if she wasn’t holding his weapon, “and I will show you a level of agony we haven’t even touched upon yet.”

Fuck that, she wasn’t even going for the ‘return tenfold’ thing. Instead, she grabbed the cane at both ends, flexing the thin wood lightly and letting it bounce back a few times. She could hear it – feel it – crackle in protest and when she couldn’t bent it any further with her hands, she slowly raised a knee.

“Break it and I’ll revoke your library card.”

Dani actually gaped at that, indignant. The cane sprang back as she let one end go.

His lips pressed together, stifling a smirk. “Now give it back.” He extended a hand and she resisted the urge to snap the cane across his open palm.

She should. She knew she should. But she also knew what would happen as soon as that cane was in his hands again. He was fucking right; both her body and mind did try to avoid that pain. And if she listened to her heart that yelled at her to throw the goddamn stick right in his face, well, that would make matters even worse…

Keeping a fair distance between them, she extended an arm and merely let the tip of the cane gently fall into his palm.

“Thank you.” Roman adjusted his grip on the thing, looking it over, checking for damage.

Then without warning, he snapped forward.

And she couldn't help it. She startled and stumbled backward before her stubbornness could literally put a stop to it.

Where usually he’d saunter up to her, slowly, twirling whatever weapon he was holding, he now marched up, large strides quickly closing the distance.

She backed into the wall. Pushed forward to slip past him. He easily caught her. Shoved her back with such force it slammed the air from her lungs.

Air she couldn't immediately get back. Before she could gasp in, the cane pressed hard against her windpipe, cutting off her air. He stepped in, his body flush with hers, the cane horizontal against her throat. He pressed harder, bending the wood until both ends touched the wall, keeping her contained.

“Maybe we should go for some big words after all,” Roman growled, but with no anger. “We’ll start with the A for asphyxiation.”

Dani snarled. Her lips moved but she had no air to turn into words. She twitched, bucked against him, and gasped hard when he let up to hear her speak.

“O-only if… we c-continue with my C for—”

He pressed the cane back, not letting her finish, and lightly shook his head. “Oh, love. I don’t think we’ll get that far.” He smirked, lowering himself towards her and whispered in her face: “After all, we have to get past B for broken first.”

-

Continued here

Tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpifi @whumpy-daydreams @whumpyourdamnpears @aurora-gehenna99

[whump-captain]

it's my oc i can give him a cane if i want to

[ID in alt]

[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

Tis the season

to stab your guys with a Candy Cane Stake

Imagine …

Whumper taunting whumpee while slowly sucking it to a point and licking the blood off after stabbing

Whumpee can’t stand the smell of peppermint after being rescued because they were threatened and hurt with it so much

or

Holiday Vampire killed by a peppermint stake to the heart

[just-here-for-the-whump]

Magnum P.I. 3x12 Of Sound Mind

[whumpshaped]

tw pet whump, punishment, captivity, conditioning, implied future caning (literally-)

“I’m disappointed, Whumpee.”

Whumpee scrambled to get away from their owner, all the way into the furthest corner of the room. “I’m sorry, I said I was sorry, please–”

“You know that punishments are a cornerstone of training.”

“They don’t have to be! Please, I’ll do better!”

“Oh, Whumpee.” They squeezed their eyes shut, curling up even tighter as the footsteps grew nearer. “It’s sweet how you keep trying.” Knock. Knock. Knock. That wretched fucking cane, they couldn’t handle another beating with that– they hoped the stupid thing would just break–

Their eyes snapped open, and they gave Whumper their best concerned look. “B-but your cane, Master.”

Whumper raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

Whumpee got onto their knees, gingerly placing a hand on the wooden cane in question. Whumper let them, curious to see where this was going. “It– it’ll get damaged. Please, I can learn my lesson otherwise. I couldn’t live with myself if– if I was the reason Master’s favourite cane had to be replaced.”

There was a pause, and then Whumper burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s precious, isn’t it?” They leaned down with a smile, and for a moment, Whumpee thought it had worked. “Tell you what. If you earn enough beatings that my cane breaks on your back, I’ll spare you the guilt and get rid of you along with it.”

[weirdstrangeandawful]

Cane users... I have a question: ...how?

I use forearm crutches and I finally decided to get a cane. It's currently like 12 cm too long so my friend and I are going to cut it but I am struggling to figure out how to use it. Am I putting too much weight on it? It is so unstable and (sort of as perdicted) my wrists hurt trying to stabilise it even though I've only had it half a day and I've only used it for walking around my flat. I thought it would be more convenient than a crutch in my really tiny flat and it is but I don't know how to use this thing.

I initially thought I wouldn't ever be able to use a cane because of my joint instability and maybe I'm right?

[ennead-of-whump]

there’s just something so perfect about this idk