hurting the pretty boys is fun

suppression spell that drains away the victim’s power and gives it to the caster

suppression spell that latches on to anyone who tries to help the victim remove it

suppression spell that leaves a mark unique to the caster, showing exactly who overpowered the victim

or that marks the victim with a ring around their neck, displaying their powerlessness for all to see

suppression spell that blocks the flow of magic through the victim’s body like a dam, eventually killing them as the pressure builds and builds

Runes are most commonly tattooed, but it's possible to paint them on for a more temporary effect. Very rarely will a bearer have more than three runes, as the magic that powers them is drawn from the bearer's body, and more than three can leave them dangerously weakened.

Just. A fun thought idea.

it's late at night. whumpee came to them clearly mortified, barely able to get the words out. they stumbled through explaining what's going on, and when caretaker tried to lighten the mood, things just got so much worse. it should have worked... whumpee would have laughed at that, would have been relieved that caretaker was being cool about it, but not this time. this time it made their whole body convulse and the shame increase until it nearly took them to the floor.

caretaker wanted to crack a joke, poke a little fun, and then they'd make a plan together. caretaker would take whumpee somewhere they could get checked out, get treated. would help them get past this bump in the road, maybe work through why it took them so long to say something, why they let it get this bad before they asked for help or told anyone.

but that's not... that's not what's happened. it should have worked. they know whumpee, it should have worked. it didn't.

"hey," caretaker says. they sit up straighter, squint at whumpee. they're tired, it's the middle of the night, but they can tell something is going on here. something's wrong. more than just... something is wrong. this is about more than an infection that whumpee is ashamed to talk about, this is... there has been something wrong lately. they've noticed. and now this, and- "whumpee, did... did something happen?"

whumpee's body shudders again. their shoulders hunch and they crumple, their face pressing into their hands. "yeah," they admit, through a heaving breath, almost a sob. "yeah, i- i was-"

-not allowed on furniture. remain standing or kneel on the floor, no sitting

-not allowed to make eye contact 

-being silenced immediately every time they try to speak 

-casual manhandling, being dragged alone because they’re not trusted to move by themselves 

-casual, nonconsensual touch. randomly pulling them closer, absently playing with hair, manually adjusting their posture

-giving orders without explanation 

-giving orders they know are arbitrary, just to exercise power

-talking about them like they aren’t even in the room 

-authorizing other people to monitor and control them

-being kept in restraints 24/7, with movement restricted even further in their downtime 

-degrading their natural behaviors and reflexes. stare is creepy, smile is ugly, flinching is disrespectful, etc…

-putting down their hobbies/interests

Whumper inherits a Whumpee who’s had several handlers before. He himself, though, he’s not like the others. Not like the others who commit needless violent atrocities against the Whumpees, rendering them useless.

Whumper has successfully rehabilitated his captive. They’re finally speaking, giving him insider info that Whumper can use in his work.

Except the information Whumpee has been feeding Whumpee is lies. Cleverly crafted, perfect lies. Whumper falls for it. Acts on it. Loses men. Looks like a fool. He’s humiliated.

Someone has to pay for this. Whumpee must pay for this.

He enters Whumpee’s cell without even really thinking about it. Whumpee flinches, wide-eyed, recognizing the rage on his face, the way he’s holding himself, the tightness of his jaw. That recognition only makes him madder.

And then his hands are on Whumpee’s collar, yanking them up by it, out of their bed, and before he can really think he’s slammed them against the wall. His fist connects with their face, again and again. His shouting punctuates each hit.

Did you think this was funny?

Do you know what you’ve done?

How dare you lie to me!

He only stops when he can no longer tell if the blood on his knuckles is from Whumpee or him. He lets go, and they crumple to the floor. Under his shadow they cower, arms shielding themselves, whimpering.

For reasons he can’t explain, their pathetic-ness only enrages him more. So he begins to kick. And kick. Chest, face, stomach. Whumpee gasps, coughs, struggles for breath. He can barely hear it over the roaring in his ears. Eventually though, he tires. Breathing hard, he takes a step back.

He thought it would make him feel better, but seeing Whumpee in this state isn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be. What he really wanted was to hear them apologize, beg him to stop. But they haven’t even spoken. A product of the treatment by their last whumpers, probably, where begging was futile and mocked. But still. Why doesn’t Whumpee know this is what he wants? If they’re so smart?

He shakes his head. Crouches. Grabs Whumpee’s wrist. And then he breaks a finger. They shriek, but quiet back into whimpering again, curling up tighter.

He takes another finger. “You want me to stop?”

Whumpee’s lip trembles. They give a tiny nod.

“Then fucking apologize.”

Whumpee is still hyperventilating, and doesn’t immediately respond. Some more tension on their middle finger, though, and desperate words flow out of Whumpee.

Please, don’t, they sob between gasps. I won’t—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do this again, please.

He breaks another finger. The look of betrayal on Whumpee’s face almost surprises him. He wants to yell at them again for being so stupid. They’re not being sincere. He wants a sincere apology. Is it so hard to do just that?

They blubber on some more, and Whumper gives up on the apology. A liar won’t be sincere anyways. Hopefully this will teach them a lesson. See? He knows when to stop.

By that point the burning rage he felt has cooled, widening his perception of things. He lets go of their hand and steps back, but Whumpee doesn’t move. They’re still hyperventilating. Except, the more he listens, the less it sounds like panic. Well, yes, there’s panic there, but this is more… mechanical. Every time they inhale, they stop early, wince, try again. Every so often they’ll take a deeper breath, stiffen, and then whimper. He notices the hand draped over their chest was both shielding themselves and also bracing against something painful.

He doesn’t bother regretting his actions, he doesn’t bother thinking, what have I done? He stares at Whumpee and thinks.

Medicine was not something he bothered to learn. He’d hired his own doctor to tend to his whumpees long ago. Paid in cash, he asked no questions. Was it worth summoning him now?

Whumper kneels back down to Whumpee. Puts a hand on their shoulder. Shakes. “Stop breathing like that. Get up.”

They don’t obey.

He attempts to pull Whumpee up, but this time, they’re a complete dead weight. Fine. Be that way. He’s not going to pick a grown adult up off the floor.

“Get up, or I’ll bring the doctor.”

Nothing. No response. Not even a peep.

The classic nightmare scene. Whumpee has never slept with people close by for this very reason. Unfortunately, they don’t have a choice this time, and they do, in fact, scream (or cry) in their sleep, in front of someone/everyone.

The person behind the trauma suddenly reappearing in Whumpee’s life. Whumpee losing it—running away, hiding, refusing to engage with anyone. Or even better, trying so hard to pretend they’re okay until they just. Shatter.

Truth serums, spells, and items. Flippantly asking Villain, “Why do you keep doing this?” only to get a gut-wrenching answer in return.

The mind probe. Whumpee is sick/unconscious, and someone does the magical mind probe (I swear this comes up so much in media) to figure out what’s wrong and stumbles on Whumpee’s tragic past.

Teammates unknowingly triggering Whumpee for a while until Whumpee finally just screams it out. The looks of horror.

Also shout out to intentional trauma reveals. For trusting the found family enough to tell them the things that hurt the most.