#verticordious

[dionysianfreak]

for the aesthetic posts, could you do one for Eunomia?

i learned of a new Goddess with this request, thank you ! and thank you for your patience. here's one for Eunomia <3

[whumpwillow]

Verticordious | Arc I part I

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

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

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

//

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

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

Any moment now.

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

Zane smiled down at him.

“Mornin,’” he said.

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

Perhaps that was true.

“Where am I?” Emory asked.

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

But he was rarely in that kind of mood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zane scoffed. “Not on your life.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But where was the fun in that?

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

“Look what I got,” Zane said.

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

“Oh, but I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

[4res]

( i was trying to send this as a reply but i didn't realize they have a tight character count)

im probably making this more complicated than it should be lol but. i think my answer to your question would be both? sometimes it is more productive to wear the gloves or to hold off on change and sometimes it isn't. i agree with what you said about pain often being needed for growth but i also think that the level of pain we can bear fluctuates and that isn't a bad thing. sometimes you prick yourself once and you're done and sometimes you can tear up your hands and keep going. and then sometimes even if it isn't productive to wear the gloves, you put them on because you need to let yourself rest anyways.

in the sense of how this applies to the gods, i think they both expect progress from us but also want us to be kind to ourselves, so it's the challenge to find the middle ground there.

im so sorry that i took awhile to answer you @verticordial! and i seriously want to say how grateful i am for your input, i just sat with your response for awhile!

i never considered that either, the idea of tolerance in terms of challenge. i get a little tender about that because i know my idea of what i am capable of is much smaller than what seems to be the truth, so finding a Spiritual Space Within where i accept that i am being asked to push, while understanding how not to Oppress myself is one tricky line to walk

we can become, i guess, too tolerant of our resistance to pain (thorns, brambles) and we can also become far too oppressing in our Journey to Spirit where we keep ourselves in devotional hardships in fear of joy.. and start to exercise our devotion out of authority or duty instead of that Tender Heart Space

each spirit is different, and those differences also encompass how willing or able that person may be to look at their tolerances or limits and push past, or take those barriers where they are

i love your points here and i value them! perhaps the only way to understand how to push ourselves devotionally comes from an extremely intimate place of trust in Gods + knowing not just our limits, but our intentions behind pushing ourselves for Them..

so.. knowing, deeply, why we allow our fingers to bleed.. or why we dont

Milk Thistle Mars Open Question

[dionysia-ta-astika]

Time to vote!

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to submit their work for this 2022 edition of the City Dionysia. The link to vote is at the end of this post. You have until April 2nd 11:59pm PST to submit your vote. The winners will be announced on April 3rd.

Poetry

The flower of Delos - to Apollon by @piristephes

Perhaps they can be found by @dogsandlyres (tw: nsfw)

A Hymn to Dionysôs by @kallisto-aglaia (tw: nsfw, sex)

Pomegranate molasses by @verticordial

Messenger of Spring by @matriarca-inodora

To Dionysus, a Hymn, after Seneca the Younger by @imperturbitude

Worshippers by anonymous (tw: drugs, alcohol, mental health)

Art

Dionysos by @verticordial

To the Lords of Wild Spaces by @matriarca-inodora

Retellings

Naughty Boys by @aimee-maroux

First meeting of a dying princess and a stranger god by anonymous

Original Myth

Anthesteria by @nyxshadowhawk (winner by default)

CLICK HERE TO VOTE

[discordandglory-blog]

Verticordi-nah || Cat, Fergus and Jax

Cat, Fergus and Jax get very drunk together after the Centurion’s Christmas party. This is hella late.

As Fergus stalked off the restaurant he tried to keep his head over his shoulders in the metaphorical sense - it helped that he had glass shards shoved so far up his palm so they kept him in the moment. His face felt warm, maybe probably because of the alcohol but at the same time, it felt like utter betrayal. He had done nothing but give his whole life to the Legion and now the very people that were supposed to be an extension of his family, turned on him. Puppet, idiot and many names that had been thrown and all he could do was walk away and lick his wounds like a dog. Hurrying off the restaurant and into the Forum, Fergus found himself a lone staircase, hidden by a pillar and sat by, slowly pinching shards from his bloodied hand and feeling tears well up on his eyes. He tried to keep them away but instead he only ended up crying on his injured hand.

Bottle of wine in hand, Cat stalked after Fergus as quick as she could possibly manage. She’d discarded her high heels for the moment and considering the fact that she had to take almost two steps for everyone of Fergus’ she thought that she had done a relatively good job at keeping up. All things considered of course. “Fergus,” she called to him, “can you slow down a fucking second.” She wasn’t bitter, not with him. Never with him. She’d been with him before his promotion, they’d grown up together and sure they may not have been that close but he was like a little brother to her and she couldn’t bear to see him in this much pain. Finally catching up with him, she paused as she realised that he was crying and pulled out the cork from the wine. “Here,” she said handing him the bottle, “drink and try to calm down. We don’t have to talk. Just let me look after that hand, you need to stop fucking yourself up all the time.”

Fergus seldom cried - in truth, he couldn’t remember when was the last time he’d caved in and cried. But this was one of those times, feeling cornered and scrutinized, he hated it. He loathed the very fact he couldn’t keep back, that he couldn’t control that. But of all people to bear witness to that, the Karavadras he didn’t mind as much. All three of his cousins were closer to him than his own brother had been - they had supplied where Murdoch had failed, they had loved him where his mother had lacked and Fergus held all three so high in his heart. “I’m sorry.” He tried not to sound as pitiful and slobbering as possible, though still reaching out for the wine and taking a long swig amid a sob, offering his hand out to Cat, a bloody mess of tears and skin and glass.

Jax was a step behind his family, having stuck around the dinner for a while longer— though he’d come soon enough to see the sad picture Fergus made. At least Cat had gotten here fast. Fergus had always been the baby of the family, younger even than Jax, and because of it all of them had taken a rather protective role towards the young man. Wordlessly, Jax had already begun to take the glass out of Fergus’ hand carefully, knowing Cat would most likely join in. “Well. At least the alcohol cleansed the wound, right?” he made a rather feeble joke. “And everyone got out of hand in there. You can’t take the blame.” Of course, Jax hadn’t approved of Fergus’ way of speaking, but that didn’t mean he didn’t agree with the man’s sentiments. They both held hate for the Greeks in their hearts.

Slipping gently in besides Jax, Cat began to pick the pieces of glass out off the wound. She wished she’d brought some vodka with her so that she could use that to clean out the wound, but red wine would have to do and borrowing the bottle from Fergus she took a large mouthful before pouring some of it on the wound. “We’re going to have to get more to drink anyway,” she said gloomily, this evening had not gone the way that she had hoped. “Maia and Lina were out of line,” she said firmly, “we’re not given our posts to question our superiors. Our system may not be perfect but we know that it works. We have to trust in the system.” She smiled gently at Fergus before pulling her scarf off and wrapping it tightly around his hand. “There, make sure that you drink nectar. I know that it tastes like shit to you but it’ll make you feel better. Now, I need another drink.” She dropped the empty wine bottle in a trashcan and frowned. “Bacchus bar?” she suggested, “or Spoils of War?”

He hadn’t expected Jax to show up but at this point, more than half drunk and hurting in ways he didn’t know how to put in words, Fergus only let his walls down and cried. “I don’t know.” It was an honest answer as he wouldn’t even flinch at the siblings picking the glass of off his palm. He had the bad habit of stitching himself roughly and patching up a lot less gently than they were acting on it so it wasn’t bad at all. It still hurt. He watched as Cat wrapped his hand, then pulled it and rubbed over his face to try and wipe the tears away and sighed, letting his head fall forward a little. “I’d really like to get drunk right now.” And that could take a while but he didn’t mind if it was around his cousins - hell, his siblings in a way. He wanted to talk but he didn’t know how.

To be honest, Jax was still processing exactly how strong of a reaction Lina had given, most likely that relationship was going to be much changed after tonight. But thankfully, years of careful compartmentalizing had allowed him to shove whatever was going on there aside— especially seeing as Fergus so obviously needed his and Cat’s help at the moment. “Getting drunk sounds amazing.” Jax wasn’t usually that heavy of a drinker. But after tonight...he didn’t particularly want to be all that aware. “But why don’t we go to Verticordia?” The Fitzgerald bar had always been one of their haunts, and he could only guess that Fergus might want to be somewhere as familiar as possible right now. Though if Oleana was there...there’d have to be a change in plans. Jax wasn’t letting that demon of a mother anywhere near Fergus when he was in such a state as this.

Cat had dismissed Verticordia in her head due to the potential for someone to be there that they didn’t want seeing Fergus like this, but at Jax’s suggestion she found herself gently nodding along. “Let’s getting going,” she suggested. Once upon a time she would’ve climbed aboard Fergus’ shoulders like they used to do when he was still a kid, but already double her height. This time, she simply comforted herself by standing by his side as she led the two of them along the winding cobbled streets of New Rome and into Verticordia. Directing them to a table, she walked to the bar. “Three shots of whiskey and three largers, or Guiness. I don’t particularly care right now.” She dropped an extra drachma on the pile for her impatience. “Please.” She said pushing the drachmas towards him and returning to their table.

Fergus didn’t particularly feel like going to his family’s Pub, mostly because he didn’t want to risk his mother seeing him falling apart like this but the odds were small and he sure as hell could use some familiarity by now. Plus it was close enough that he didn’t need to walk around feeling like he had just been through the meat grinder. By the time they got there, there weren’t many customers left, it wasn’t a sports’ night and it was almost closing. He waved to the (two of) his uncles behind the bar and sat by a corner with Jax and Cat. It took only enough for Keegan to show up and simply drop three pints and a Jameson bottle by their table. “Ta, un.” Fergus nodded back at the man who didn’t ask any questions and left them be, so he merely reached out to literally pour a whiskey shot into the pint.

Jax raised a silent prayer to the gods when it turned out that Fergus’ mother was nowhere to be seen, as well as the fact that Keegan had done nothing more than dispense their alcohol to them. In a flash, Jax had downed the shot he’d been offered before chasing it with the pint he’s been presented with. For once, he didn’t want to be the responsible one, though he was still vividly aware of his desire to look after Fergus for the moment. “Drink up then, Fergus. Do your little Minnow name proud.” It was a childhood nickname between them, something of a joke towards Fergus’ heritage— as well as just the concept of the little fish being a common moniker for children younger than oneself. “Make like a fish. You too, Cat.”

Laughing brightly at her brother’s reaction, Cat swallowed her shot and took a long sip from her beer. “Well, there is nothing quite like the stuff that they serve here,” she smiled and poured them all another round of shots before swallowing hers and holding up the empty glass. “To the Legion and the shit show that we get to deal with whenever anything ever goes wrong.” She laughed mirthlessly and sat back in her chair, nursing her drink. “They have no clue what we’ve had to sacrifice for this place,” she was in the middle of a bar that was empty and the staff all knew about or were members of the cult, otherwise she wouldn’t be this frank, “Lina and Maia are naive, Adriana is trying desperately to keep the peace but there are too many pissed of Centurions.” She winced into her pint and shook her head. “Maybe we should all just give it up.” She laughed, it wasn’t a very funny joke. But she couldn’t imagine the three of them doing anything other than this.

Fergus couldn’t help the smirk that crept past his lips as Jax brought up his childhood moniker, it had been long since anyone could use any kind of diminutive regarding him, after all he had grown into his titan’s blood streak, but still, he had been practically raised by his cousins hands. He took a minute-long chug from the laced pint and simply reached out for the whiskey glass, downing it as well. Though with two of the people he loved most, Fergus suddenly felt painfully, terribly alone. “I thought about it.” Fergus admitted, voice lowered as if his mother was right around the corner - he had the faint impression she’d kill him before he gave up on the Legion and the brilliant career she had planned for him. He frowned at the beer mug in his hand, unable to look at his cousins. “Maybe I should just leave. The Legion. New Rome.” It was almost impossible to him - he was a demititan, his blood drew monsters like moths to a flame. But maybe that should be how he went out.

Jax had already lifted the second shot to his lips when Fergus’ words broke through the air. Just as he had resigned himself to getting absolutely drunk, he put down the shot. If Fergus was going to speak like this, perhaps Jax would have to save his own pity party for later. Though who knew when that later would be, if ever. It didn’t help that Leo had just left the Legion, and he wondered vaguely if everyone had made some sort of pact to ditch the Cohorts. Of course, he knew it to not be true. “Leaving the Legion is your choice. Though I’d say you’re a better asset to it than on the outside. And leaving New Rome…” he trailed off, emotional unavailability making it hard for him to speak openly. “Well, the family wouldn’t be the same.” It was the closest he could get to admitting he would miss Fergus if the man ever left in that moment.

A deep furrow marked Cat’s brow as she listened to Fergus’ selection, her head deep in the tankard of beer that had been provided for them. Wiping her mouth in a very unladylike manner that would’ve shocked her father, Cat wished that Jax could get over the masculine barriers to emotion that seemed to hold both her brother and cousin in place. “What Jax means is that you have worked just as hard as anyone else, you’ve not been given your place in the Legion, I know that you’ve earned it. You’ve done more for Rome than anyone could ever believe, and we’d be lost without you.” She grabbed another shot and swallowed it, the alcohol had destroyed the usual filter that she had in place. The mask of neutrality. But only around Fergus and Jax. Only family earned that mark of respect.

Boy’s don’t cry. That had been one of the first things he’d hear ever since his family had accepted him as a man, or at least acknowledged it that way but not much had changed since. Maybe if he still identified as a girl they’d still hold his weaknesses and failures up to his face. “Drink.” Fergus pointed to Jax before taking another shot himself. He wasn’t going to be drunk alone and he didn’t want to do any talking more than he had to. Fergus sneered as he sipped from his beer. “I thought about it but I’m not going to, it’s not like I’m good for anything else.” Most times he wasn’t even sure he was good at this - he couldn’t doubt himself, he served the Legion and the Senate, and the City of New Rome, even if that jeopardized his relationships. He still smiled back at his cousins, dunking another shot - how much he could drink until his mind blacked out, was a good question.

For Jax, it was less about gender and more about practicality— though it was likely that toxic masculinity had some part in his ways. But mostly it had to do with the fact that at the age of sixteen, after having been thrust into a blood-hungry and murdering Cult, he’d quickly learned that indifference was the easiest way to get a job done. He’d taken the practice of distancing himself from his emotions into his daily habits, learning fast that being cool and collected and shoving down otherwise distracting thoughts had inumerous benefits. Unfortunately, the Cult hadn’t seen fit to teach him an off button for the practice, though tonight had tested that in the last few moments of the Centurion dinner. “Oh, stop it. I told Leo, and I’ll tell you— you need to give yourself more credit.” He could still feel the emotions trying to break free of their neat little box he held inside him, and though it was most likely a bad idea, he followed Fergus’ advice and drank his second shot of the night, once more following it with a long swig of his pint that was now empty. By the end of it, his head had begun to swim in the slightest. After all, he was already some drinks in from their disastrous dinner. “And though I always hate to admit it, Cat is correct with what she said.”

Cat slugged back another shot of whiskey, the shots weren’t even burning the back of her throat anymore and she was pretty convinced that that wasn’t a good sign. The world seemed to swim around her and she pulled out her phone to call for her father’s driver to come and collect them. “Come on,” she grunted as she looked over to the Fitzgeralds that were drinking their own drinks, waiting for their last patrons to leave the bar so that they could close up for the night, “it is time that we got some sleep, we’re going to have a hangover like hell tomorrow and we’ve got to try and clean up this bullshit that happened tonight.” Standing, she stumbled and steadied herself against a chair. “I’m serious though Fergus, you can’t leave the Legion, the Legion needs strong leadership like you and the Legion needs people who aren’t afraid to do what they know they have to do. Just because other people don’t understand that doesn’t mean that you should pay the price.” She grabbed the mostly empty bottle of Jamesons and took a sip from it, wincing at the taste.

Fergus looked back at his cousins and curled his lips - lightweights, compared to him, he wasn’t nearly drunk enough and Jupiter knew how much he needed to erase this night from his memory. “You go home, you look trashed.” He waved at Cat and Jax, before reaching out again for the whiskey bottle as it reached its half. “I’ll be fine.” It was his family’s pub anyway and even if he passed out, he was going to be alright. He didn’t want to go back--- back where? His office? He couldn’t be in the Cohort with Maia glaring holes into his back every time, he couldn’t go to his family’s home without his mother being there. So there weren’t many options. Fergus poured himself another generous dose and reached out to get Cat’s phone, dialing Jefferson.

Jax wasn’t nearly as drunk as Cat, though he was still trying to make the effort to get to such a place. Perhaps it was Cat’s small stature that allowed her to get wasted faster than he could. Still, he was sober enough to realize that Fergus was dialing his father’s direct line rather than the driver’s, and he quickly pressed the end call button as a wave of panic overtook him. “Jeez, Fergus— get us murdered why don’t you?” Jefferson would be far from amused to get a call from his children at this hour, especially when they were less than sober. He shuddered at the thought of how their father would react to such a thing. But he quickly rectified the situation by dialing the driver’s line instead and handing the phone back to Cat. Most likely it would only take a few minutes for the driver to get here, but Jax didn’t like the idea of leaving Fergus in the state he was in. “Why don’t you come with us, Fergus? We can make up your usual room and everything. And you know Jefferson always welcomes family.”

Laughing Cat shrugged. “Are you kidding?! Get Jeffery down here so I can get taken home by daddy dearest.” She rolled her eyes and laughed mirthlessly. Rolling her eyes at the pair of them she picked up her phone and spoke quickly to the driver in Latin, instructing him to pick them up as soon as possible. Returning to the table she slumped back down. “Driver will be here soon but Fergus my brother is correct, we can’t leave you here on your own in this state, I’d hate to discover something happened to you when we had left you in this state.”

[whumpwillow]

Verticordious masterlist

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

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

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

individual content warnings on each piece

—

continuous storyline

Arc I

Part 1: arrival 

Part 2: failed escape attempt

—

asides: 

—

picrews:

all, Emory, Zane, 

—

other: 

more to come...

[whumpwillow]

2 and 20 for your favorite whumper?

Gonna answer this for Zane from Verticordious because even though it's one of my lesser-developed series, I was thinking about it the other day.

2. What is the thing they feel the most guilty about?

The thing he's most guilty about actually came from before he was the castle torturer, when he was still just a street urchin living off profits from the gang he joined. As part of a turf war, he helped the gang set fire to a tavern while people were still inside and trapped them in there. There weren't too many people, but Zane remembered looking into the eyes of one of the barmaids before running away and it's an experience that haunts him to this day, though he never speaks of it.

20. Do they consider themselves unloveable?

Oh, absolutely.

[whumpwillow]

Question, do you have a favourite OC, if so who is it and why??

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa you can't make me do this! I love all my children. Emory, Haze, Davian, and...*looks at smudged writing on hand* Edge

[whumpwillow]

whump oc: Zane

resident bastard, works in the castle dungeon

[whumpwillow]

whump oc: Emory

one (1) captured prince

pre-capture and post-capture

[whumpwillow]

wij day 10

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

—

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

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

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

Lightning flashed.

“Very few people do, anymore.”

—

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

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

“I’m not afraid of you.”

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

—

this is two snippets but oh well 🤷🏻‍♀️

[whumpwillow]

Masterpost Masterpost

yep, that’s what I’m calling it

—

I’m no longer active on this website and won’t be updating anything further but I’m keeping my works up as an archive. You can find them in the links below!

—

Hi I’m Willow and I like to hurt pretty boys <3 

my main series:

Hazeshift: a villain named Haze is rescued after having been held captive by a vigilante, but the heroes that find him aren’t exactly forgiving of his past crimes... [villain whump] 💜

Demon’s Haven: a witch summons a demon to make a deal, but ends up taking care of him instead when she finds him tortured and traumatized. [demon whump] 💚

Please send asks about tropes or scenarios you like!

see more about me under the cut and I hope you stick around~ 

❤ some things I like:

villain whumpee

whumper-turned-whumpee

immortal whumpee

demon whumpee

royal whumpee

honestly most non-human creatures as whumpee

what tvtropes defines as “mugging the monster”

also the break the haughty trope

💔 nope tropes (things i do not like)

lady whumpee

explicit noncon

whumpee death

see more at the links below:

squicks

tropes i like (part 2)

—

my side series (updated infrequently)

Crossfire: a villain is mistakenly arrested for crimes he didn’t commit by a hero too eager to prove himself. [villain whump]

Oneirogate: a villain who once ruled the city is captured and sent to a facility meant for “rehabilitating” villains, but everything is never as it seems. He is later rescued by the very hero who took him down. [villain whump]

Aeonian: snippets from the life of an immortal as he goes through pains unimaginable. [immortal whump]

Verticordious: an innocent royal prince is captured by the enemy side and tortured for information in the castle dungeon. [royal whump]

writing masterlist: where all my other writings live, updated semi-frequently

tvtropes prompt series: what it says on the tin

—

my tags: 

#willow writes – writing tag, all my writings

#willow answers – asks I’ve answered

#willow does art! – (yes, with the exclamation point) I’m not the best at art, but I try

#willow rambles – miscellaneous 

that’s all for now, I’ll update this later if I think of anything else I want pinned to the top of my blog

[dionysia-ta-astika]

We have Winners!

For the Retellings category:

First meeting of a dying princess and a stranger god by anonymous

For the Original Myth category:

Anthesteria by @nyxshadowhawk (winner by default)

For the Poetry category:

Messenger of Spring by @matriarca-inodora

and finally, for the Art Category:

Dionysos by @verticordial

Big congratulations to the winners, and as usual, a big thank you to all the people who have participated. This wouldn't happen without you.

[whumpwillow]

Zayne. It sounds like a name a purple haired guy would have 😅

thats a gorgeous name but alas, in one of my on hold stories (Verticordious) i already have a Zane

[whumpwillow]

Masterpost Masterpost

yep, that’s what I’m calling it

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hello, it’s me. you can call me Willow, and I write whump. I’m always trying to improve my writing and try out different things, so I hope you like my stuff! I also reblog a lot of things from prompts, tropes, art, gifs, and other people’s writing. I try to tag things as best I can but let me know if you want something tagged and I’ll add it. General warning for violent content, absolutely no nsfw, but please be aware and stay safe. 

ask box is open, as it says in my bio. feel free to send in asks about series, characters, ideas, tropes, etc. messages are also accepted and appreciated. Truly — it won’t hurt (unless you’re fictional). 

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my series 

Hazeshift: a villain named Haze is rescued after having been held captive by a vigilante, but the heroes that find him aren’t exactly forgiving of his past crimes... [villain whump] 

Crossfire: a villain is mistakenly arrested for crimes he didn’t commit by a hero too eager to prove himself. [villain whump]

Aeonian: snippets from the life of an immortal as he goes through pains unimaginable. [immortal whump] 

Verticordious: an innocent royal prince is captured by the enemy side and tortured for information in the castle dungeon. [royal whump] 

writing masterlist: where all my other writings live, updated semi-frequently

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squicks 

my oc’s

tropes i like (part 2) 

that’s all for now, I’ll update this later if I think of anything else I want pinned to the top of my blog

DISCOURSE, POLITICS, AND ANY REFERENCE TO IRL ISSUES WILL BE DELETED ON SIGHT AND YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

[whumpwillow]

Writing masterlist!

figured it was time for some organization on my blog and I wanted a place to keep all my miscellaneous writings that don’t belong to a series. They don’t have their own specific oc’s so I’ll organize them by creature type (because I’m a sucker for some fantasy whump) 

content warnings on each individual piece, as well as series descriptions on their respective masterposts

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my series: 

Hazeshift [villain whumpee]

Crossfire [villain whumpee] 

Oneirogate [villain whumpee] 

Demon’s Haven [demon whumpee] 

Aeonian [immortal whumpee] 

Havitys [immortal whumpee]

Verticordious [royal whumpee] 

False Target [henchman whumpee] 

Babylon [vampire whumpee] 

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heroes and villains:

 villain beaten by guards, hero with poisonous power, strung-up villain, beaten henchman, unrequited love, 

elves:

found elf, begging, 

vampires:

angry mob, 

merfolk:

barbed wire, 

royalty & nobility:

poison tolerance, rain, bullying, panic attack, 

immortals:

expendable, 

other:

touch starved, CEO, inferiority complex, 

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Feel free to leave asks, comments, reblogs, etc. I love interaction!!! Ask me about my oc’s!! and I hope you like my writing <333

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Last updated: 5 / 2 / 21 (USA date)