#reference to beating

[whumpqin]

Desperation

HELLO IT'S BEEN OVER 2 YEARS SINCE THE LAST ACTUAL CHAPTER! I hope you have all been doing great! <3 This chapter is a bit out of chronological order (and based on a prompt) but the more I wrote it the more I realized that it had some important plot details so here we are lmao

Link to Masterlist (I'm going to be redoing my taglist. If you want to be added please let me know!)

Characters: Elisha (Caleb) (POV), Aridai

TW: Sadistic/Creepy/Intimate whumper, nonhuman whumpee, pet whump, conditioning, brainwashing, blood, hallucinations, begging, pressing on wounds, brief noncon reference, reference to eye removal, reference to broken bones / broken bones, reference to torture / whipping / beatings, broken whumpee, fucked up thinking in general, kneeling on concrete, knives (there might be more that I forgot, just let me know)

Word Count: 1,974

Based partly on this prompt also:

He barely moved when the basement door slammed open, or when calm footsteps descended the stairs. He kept his eye firmly fixed to the basement wall, back turned to the exit, to the escape that he wasn’t allowed to have, and stared at the blood on the wall, dried up and stained from multitudes of sprays.

“Good morning, Elisha,” That saccharine voice said. Full of cheer and a good night’s rest.

All of the aches on his body stung anew as if salt had been pressed onto them. Bitter and merciless, and all Elisha could do was count a simple mantra of one, two, three, four, five, counting his slow breaths while he tried to remind himself that he could still breathe. His arms and legs were unable to move, they were traitors, and refused to listen to him. One too many shocks and they’d gone as limp as if he’d fallen asleep. But sleep was the one gift they refused to give him. He hadn’t earned permission.

“Are we not going to answer today?” Elisha’s Master hummed. Footsteps drew closer. Something cool prodded against his shoulder, digging hard into the deep whip marks against his back, forcing a weak keen from deep within him. “There you are. What’s the matter, pet? Don’t feel like answering to the name you think you have?”

That cool metal dug into his back, pulling at the dried blood on it and ripping open the wounds. Elisha couldn’t help but to jerk, mouth parting in a weak cry as short gasps of pain stretched his bruised and broken ribs. Despite so desperately not wanting to, pitiful sobs welled up in his throat and they had the gall to spill out at his Master’s command.

Please don’t cry, Elisha thought to himself, trying to will the tears to dry and his horrible sounds to shut up. Just let them get bored. Let them walk away.

He tried his best to curl inwards. Legs and tail coiling in on his sensitive torso, hands sliding across stone to cover his head. All Elisha could do was twitch as something prodded him, unable to even lift his head.

“Get up,” Aridai commanded coldly. 

Just leave me alone, he couldn’t help to think, unable to will the words out. They’d probably come out chopped up anyways. He’d probably get hurt for that, too. 

Another prod, this time further down his side. It forced a gasp from him while fresh tears slid down his face. A hair’s breadth to the side and it would have jostled one of the ribs they broke a few days ago, when Jeremiah slammed his boots into his side for trying to get up when he wasn’t told. Elisha couldn’t imagine what Aridai would do to him if he couldn’t.

Long, red hair brushed against his shoulder as his Master leaned down, lips just barely touching the shell of his ear. “You get the fuck up, Elisha, or I’ll give you a damn good reason why you can’t. I’m not in the mood for games today.”

It was no different than any threat they’d said before. But even a reminder not to fuck up still had his mind racing for what they could possibly do to him like this. Were they going to kill him? Would it be slow? Please, god, don’t let it be slow. Elisha had a hard time wondering what would be worse. He never wanted to die slowly, like a withering plant left too long without water. He was sensitive and it would be so pitiful that even angels might not bear to look at him.

Elisha forced his eyes shut to try and gather the bits of his mind still present. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to be strong enough to get the fuck up just like Aridai had told him to. He was a good boy, and he could be so, so good for them. Maybe he’d even get a treat of water or food scraps.

As fingers began to dance against his bare thigh, walking themselves teasingly down his leg while metal rang against the floor of the basement, Elisha slid his hand over to his head. He curled in his fingers a bit while he forced his leg to rotate to allow his pads to touch the cold stone he lay upon. Claws from his hand and foot dug small, indiscernible grooves into the floor as he pushed, willing all of his might into raising up to his knees. Elisha wasn’t sure if he could stand, and he hoped his knees would be good enough.

“There we are. There’s my good boy,” he heard the low rumble of his Sir in his ear, the touch of Jeremiah’s gentle hands across his shoulders that didn’t hurt.

Once he was up to his hands and knees Elisha looked up to see only Aridai. Only his Master. They watched him with that cold expression, and narrowed their eyes when he paused.

“Keep going, devil,” they hissed. Elisha cringed at their sharp tone.

He did his best to distribute his weight so the stone did not hurt his knees so much, but all he could feel was pain. Hot and angry pain that gripped him tight like barbed wire. Elisha could taste dirt in his mouth, wet with iron and tears. And god he ached, his entire side was so numb it hurt, and his back cracked painfully as he finally sat upright like he was supposed to. He looked up to his Master with a terribly sad look, begging without any words on his tongue.

Aridai’s expression did not falter or change. They stared at him, into his eyes, and Elisha couldn’t help but to allow his gaze to drop to the floor out of fear. His eye grazed over white scrawlings, cuts into the basement stone that were barely legible, with splatters of blood filling the grooves that were made. One word for every crack of the whip against his back.

ELI SHA EL IS H AEL ISHA ELISHA E LI S-

He flinched as he almost heard the sound of his own screams and snapped his eye shut. They stayed closed until the metal rod pressed against his chin and lifted his head up, and curiosity drug his tired eyelid back open again.

His Master was watching him with a studied eye. Forcing him to sit still while another ache - the one that spread pain from his knees all the way up and down his legs - was added to the bunch. He shook with an obedient fervor; in an incredible amount of pain but wanting still to be so so so good that his loyalty was never questioned again that he dare not move until he was told.

Eventually they bent down to be eye level with him. “Are you ready to be good for me, Elisha?”

A frown twisted his face. Discomfort brought tears to his eye as he did his best to understand what Aridai meant. Why were they calling him that if they wanted him to forget so badly?

He didn’t want to forget. He wanted to remember who he was forever. It was his birthright to be Elisha and nothing was supposed to take that from him.

But Elisha was dead. His Masters had killed him a long time ago when wire wrapped around his limbs, and they held his head still so they could drive metal through his skull to pry out all the disobedient bits. He had to live with the remains, with the cuts of the eye they carved out, with the sting of broken legs, with a name that only brought him agony every time it was spoken. And now Aridai wouldn’t stop calling him by it.

Fingers wound around his horn to still a woozy swaying he hadn’t realized he was doing. “Well? What’s it gonna be?”

“Pl-ple-ple-please… d-d-don’t, don’t, don’t-”

“Don’t what?” Aridai interrupted. “Spit it out already.”

He swallowed back the whine as their grip tightened. “D-don’t, c-c-c-call mm-me that, that,” he finally got out, in a warbly, cracked voice that he knew Jeremiah would have hated.

They finally blinked with all the urgency of the setting sun. “Call you what? Elisha?” Aridai sneered at him. “Is that what you’re so worked up over? I thought you wanted to be called that.”

“No! No, no no no, mm-Master, please,” he cried, uselessly flailing his hands in an effort to hold his horn, where pain was beginning to blossom. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore - at least that’s what it felt like. But he couldn’t stop his babbling. “Pl-pl-please, please, please, Master, no no, no mm-mm-more, no more, no more.”

“Then what am I supposed to call you, hm?”

“I-I-I wa-wa-want, I want to be, to, to, to be Caleb. Please. Pl-please l-let mm-me, please.” Then in a quieter voice, hidden behind rivulets of tears, “I ca- I can be, be, good.”

“Mm… but how am I supposed to believe you?” Aridai hummed. They released him and rose to their full height, crossing their arms. It took everything he had to stay upright. “You’re a liar, pet. A dirty liar. You’ve been lying to me and Jeremiah for years. How am I supposed to believe that you’re telling the truth now?”

“I-I’ll, I’ll do, do anything, pl-please, Master!” The words slipped out before he stopped them, but he couldn’t have thought of anything else. Instead he painfully lowered himself down into a bow, curling his back in just the right way to make him cry out from the pain. He could feel warm blood running down his side as he pressed his horns into the stone floor. “I’ll, I’ll be, be sss-so so so so g-good, Master. I can, I can, I can, just… nn-no no no mm-mm-more him. Please.”

He heard Aridai hum again in thought but he didn’t dare look up now. He merely closed his eye and awaited his fate, whatever it would be. Though he questioned whether he was desperate enough to do anything, if it got him out of the basement, away from this pain… wouldn’t it be worth it? It wasn’t like he had much dignity anyways. It had all been beaten, broken, or fucked out of him by now. 

“I’m still just not sure.” Broken sobs very nearly bubbled out of him, halted as Aridai continued. “But… I have an idea for you to prove yourself. You do this thing for me, and I’ll be merciful. I’ll take you out of here. Take care of these pesky wounds. Does that sound nice?”

“Y-yes, Master. It, it does. I’ll, I’ll be g-good,” he responded immediately.

The sound of a small metal object clattered to the ground.

“Pick that up and get up on your knees.” He looked up to see a knife lying on the ground. Pristine and sharp as always, and he glanced up to his Master. “I want you to carve your name down until I’m satisfied. And not on the stone floor this time. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

Their words were like crystal to him. He remembered this game from a long time ago - still stared at the scars on his legs from time to time. Even if it had a different purpose, it was the same. It would hurt, and he would cry and sob and scream. Over and over and over. But this was what Aridai wanted from him so that he could prove himself. A little more pain for them to watch with amusement. He swallowed. I can be good. I can be so good for you, he pleaded in his mind to them.

I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.

Caleb forced himself up to his knees, and picked up the knife as he was told.

[everwalldigan]

(Bruce has been brainwashed. Again)

Tim: hey man, I think you got him

Dick, letting out all his pent up rage: YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING??

Tim, backing away: nope

Dick: THATS WHAT I THOUGHT.

[astrowarr]

i haven't watched pearl's episode yet. but there's something to be said about the fact that she knew scar well enough to know that, when it was the two of them, he would have too much pride to accept a sacrifice.

she doesn't want to win, and she tells him at first before she quietly tucks that secret back into its shell after scar's indignant reaction to her first attempt at self-sacrifice. she lets scar forget about it as they kill gem, and then as scar kills pearl. at no point does she try to say here, let me give this to you. she knows scar, but she also knows the pain of an ending like that.

but she misses a few swings, doesn't she? her legs don't move as quickly to duck away from his arrows. and isn't that familiar? isn't that something like a cactus ring, with two unrelenting fists and two half-hearted ones: a fight with two unwilling participants, a fight that was over before it ever really began at the insistence of one of its patrons

pearl is all too familiar with the sting of sacrifice, but then on the other side of things... scar knows all too well the tragedy of gifted victory, doesn't he?

[demigods-posts]

headcanon that tyson thinks percy and annabeth are married. like, he's fully convinced that they're newly weds. and that they just decided to have a private wedding. then one day. percy invites tyson over for dinner with his parents and annabeth. and tyson casually refers to annabeth as percy's wife. and everyone just pauses. but before percy can correct him. annabeth just slyly confirms it and continues setting the table.

[welcometogrouchland]

♫ I do what I want/Crying in the bleachers and I said it was fun/I don't need anything from anyone ♫

(ID in Alt) you guys ever think about your own posts and get upset?? Anyway Damian Wayne I love you I'm so sorry your life is like that

[lilislegacy]

pov it’s nico’s 17th birthday

nico: piper i swear to hades if you sing that song one more time

will: let’s all calm down here

leo: i think you should sing it one more time

frank: it is a great song

hazel: can we all just take a sec-

piper: You are the dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeeeeeen! Dancing Queen, feel the beat from the tamb-

nico: *takes out sword*

piper: *stops singing*

nico: thank you

🔊”Dancing Queen” starts playing from speaker in corner🔊

nico: WHO THE HE-

nico: *looks towards speaker*

percy and annabeth next to the speaker: ⬇️

[lucabyte]

you dream of devouring your friends whole

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 301

Ellie, during one of her stints of what do I do with my life right now, decides to, with the help of her Original Dad-Person (Look he’s aging and she’s not and it gets less questions the older he gets if he says daughter instead of sister with how the Fentons are getting older too) creates a Boo-Tube channel. No, not a Youtube channel, those are stuck to a single dimension.

Bootube on the other hand? Due to being through the Realms (and wow is Tucker getting so much income from creating it) is interdimensional. Which is so cool honestly. And she doesn’t know what to do at first, and honestly there’s already so many travel blogs that she kind of just… decided to do something that she wished someone had done for her and her brothers and Danny when she was new to the world. 

So she creates the channel CAAW: Clone Awareness, Accommodations, and Welfare. They had to learn things through trial and error, but maybe she can help someone out there learn how to find their own selves, or even help someone not melt. 

[idkaguyorsomething]

the convoluted doctor who lore gets extra funny when you realize that, at two separate points in the past, two different companions to two different doctors ended up running into rasputin but both came to the conclusion that he was a pretty nice and normal guy. which, depending on how you interpret the power of the doctor, is either a nice subversion of a lot of tropes of stories used in pre-soviet russia, or side-splittingly hilarious as you start imagining the master getting roped into various adventures with different versions of the doctor that he can’t fuck with yet or else he’ll destroy the timeline, forcing him to play nice with the humans as part of his 4D Time Chess Master Disguise Plan #3852

[blueskittlesart]

in the nicest and most non-confrontational way possible. i feel like some of you think that anything that isn't directly openly spelled out for you within a story is "missed potential" or "unexplored." like. sometimes there are implied narratives. sometimes the point is that you as the reader are supposed to think and draw your own conclusions and participate in the story. the writers not directly spelling every little detail out for you doesn't mean that the story is poorly written or missed its own plot details somehow. PLEASE.

[rhydart]

Worm Man sticker inside! Collect them all!

WM is trying So Hard to keep them out of trouble long enough to clear names, but it's not easy...

(Alt below cut)

[grandadtwelve]

doctors 1, 3, and 9-15 + text posts I’ve reblogged onto my main blog 🫶🏼

[momhowell]

very nice of phil to give the context for dan's eye emergency for his 3 viewers who still have no idea who this dan howell guy is

[killjoy-prince]

House M.D. but it's when House says Wilson's name

[vaggieslefteye]

I couldn't bear to see you suffer that fate.

[wanderingibon]

a flock of birds, a crow family — everything aside, despite viago's frosty, stern demeanor I think both he and teia care about rook like family, in a way that goes past the pretenses of being a crow or just part of house de riva, they're literally found family to meeeeee

and while you have time, please consider finding a family on op. olive branch 🍉 and supporting / sharing their campaigns, especially the ones with low funding <3