it starts with bloodshed

Propaganda is welcomed and encouraged!!

Pics used in previous rounds:

Pull at their hair. Even better if they are bruised up and standing up hurts. "ah, wait, no, ah!" as you pull them up and drag them along without mercy. To ease the pain at their scalp they have to push themselves to comply and feel the pain in their legs/back/chest/wherever.

Grab their upper arm, hard enough to bruise, and roughly guide them wherever you want them to go.

When whumpee is hiding under a bed or laying on the ground, grab them by their ankles and pull them away. They will desperately try to grasp at anything with their hands, but it's no use.

History whump. Tie their hands together and tie the end of the rope to the back of your cart. Comfortably ride your horse as whumpee is forced to walk along in the sun. Don't give them water. Let them almost collapse from exhaustion. If they fall and trip the cart will pull them along and their wrists will be bleeding.

Wrestle them down, tie their hands behind their back, blindfold them, and force them to walk with you, tripping and disoriented. Maybe you can let them fall on their face a time or two.

Forcefully carry them with you between two people. Let them struggle and fight, but it's no use. They are not strong enough.

Threaten them with a gun. Make them come "willingly". Make sure they know that if they don't do what you tell them, they are dead. Whumpee complies with slow and careful movements, not wanting to, but also knowing they have no choice.

Throw them tied up in the back of your truck. They try so hard not to hyperventilate, but the claustrophobia is making them panic. Every turn and bump is throwing them around. It is dark and hot. They try to follow the road, but quickly become completely disoriented.

Put a shock collar around them and zap them if they don't do what you say.

(my mind went a PLACE with this so just. go with me on this journey.)

“you should have fucking trained me.”

whumpee’s voice is loud and angry as they bang in through the door, so angry in fact that at first caretaker doesn’t recognize it’s their voice at all. anger is so rare to hear from them since caretaker and their team rescued them. most of the time they sound flat, or sometimes scared. (sometimes, rarely, though more often as time goes on, they sound happy.) honestly, anger would be a good thing to hear from them. it might mean they were starting to see themself as someone worthy of being angry.

except for the way that whumpee looks right now, which means nothing about this is good at all. there’s a bruise swelling fresh at the corner of their mouth and their eyes are red like they’ve been crying, the way they look after particularly bad night terrors. worst of all is their clothes.

whumpee is still such a neat freak. and their clothes are a rumpled mess.

apprehension rises thick and high in caretaker’s throat. “what happened? why are you- what are you talking about?”

“you didn’t train me, and you said i was done being used, you all said. but teammate whumper just used me, and i wasn’t ready. i wasn’t- if you had told me and you had trained me then i would have- i could have been better. i could have taken it better.”

that apprehension quickly turns to fear and horror. “used you? that’s not- no. you’re not here to be used. i promise.”

Propaganda is welcomed and encouraged!!

Pics used in round 1:

whumpee shakes their head. curls up tighter into themself. what's the point, if all that awaits them is more endless agony anyways?

a low cry of despair slips past their lips as whumper grabs their hair and pulls them up. "I said," two heavy slaps followed by a warning squeeze to the back of their throat. "get the fuck up."

whumpee trembles, trembles, trembles. tasting blood, feeling it dribble past their chin. it won't stop. what's the point?

Content: Defiant whumpee broken, manhandling, sadistic (male) whumper, strained/sprained/broken wrist, crying, begging, forced (unspoken) to kneel, cursing

Slammed into the coffee table by the arm twisted around their back and whumpee chuckles, eyes looking toward whumper, though they can’t quite see them. Whumper pins their other hand to the table by the wrist.

“I upset you that bad, huh—ach!” they break off as whumper twists harder, and whumpee’s body reflexively twists away in panic and pain, but whumper stops them with a knee to their side and pushes even harder.

“Wait wait wait I’m not struggling, I’m not strugglING FUCK YOU,” whumpee gasps harshly as the pressure increases. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Fuck! I’m sorry, please…”