#uhh the pain

[bluevelvetea]

Satosugu 🤝 Hagimatsu

[birdie-ghost]

And on our dates, it's never daytime When she gets playful with a steak knife I need a break, maybe I'll take five Shake it up and medicate, maybe I'll take five

[samgatinho]

I’m sorry. I’ll see you again. I think. I hope.

wearing thin by @sparxwrites

[lazylittledragon]

Question about tattoos, if that's alright! If not, please feel free to ignore this. I have four tattoos, but none were handpokes. I've always been curious about getting one done, perhaps across my hand. Is it truly so painless as you described in the comic? Can you find a professional artist willing to do them? I had one tell me that none would, which was disappointing. Thank you for your time ❤️

based on my experience - YES. it was maybe 2/10 pain for me, it hurt less than getting my ears pierced. it takes a long time and you can kind of feel your skin like. popping. which is a bit weird. i can't say anything about the most painful areas for tattoos but to compare, i have one on my inner bicep next to one of my more painful machine tattoos and i hardly felt the handpoke at all.

you can ABSOLUTELY find professional handpoke artists!!! the idea that you can only get them in someone's dirty basement is outdated, most handpoke artists work in studios and they can be just as clean and professional as machine tattoos. also you can have a nice nap which you don't usually get with most tattoos

[azzymaxxing]

ghese are like a week old i made them on call and got too scared to post them Ok bye

[marclef]

guess who's (slowly) comin' back baby

wanted to try making the squishy boy more expressive 🤗

[intotheelliwoods]

Hello hello, arc 2, I will have fun with you

Parallels how I love you

Masterpost

[skrrtscree]

I'm going to do it! 😀 this time, Im really serious! 😀

(lyrics from 'everyone adores you (at least I do)' by matt maltese)

[jennicatzies]

I played dead plate

It was stressful [ positively but also actually ]

[p4nishers]

STAND UP BRO

[flying-fangirls]

The Dies Irae—

It is your title, your combined force—

The Day of Wrath.

[portalsafterschooll]

- SEEDS OF THE RADIANT ROSE.

Based off from Navia

No credits needed (but appreciated)

Looks best with pics that includes both light & dark colors

You can edit the settings (if you want ofc^^)

[antichrists-plus1]

Edwin my beloved

[xsafronix-blog]

Here I am alone

Between the heavens and the embers

[painsandconfusion]

Harmless

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Forty-three

(tw: broken bones, hand whump/gore, foot whump/gore, body horror, strangulation, unconsciousness, genuinely like a lethal amount of bone damage, hammer, buzzy bright lights that make the autism go weh)

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Ethan’s boots clodded against the stairs as he made his way back down to the workshop. As much as he hated to agree with Nate, there was a spark of fear curling through him now. He’d been that man’s punching bag for far too long. He thought those days were over, but now here he was with a broken nose, black eye, and bruised around the throat from those same hands he thought were long rendered harmless.

To put both his and Nate’s worries to rest, he needed to put an abrupt end to that fear and worry.

Ethan unlocked the workshop door, slapping on the industrial, buzzing lights.

Crawford groaned, curling in on himself like a drunkard who passed out in an alley rather than making his way home - business suit ripped and muddy as he hides from the first rays of morning light.

Ethan moved closer to the broken man who was chained to the ground in the middle of the room. Chained by the neck, too. Nate wasn’t feeling merciful, evidently. Just a short chain ‘round his throat that was padlocked to the floor.

Efficient, Ethan supposed. Full body mobility and absolutely nowhere to go.

“M’ sssorry-” the broken man choked out. Pleading for mercy long after the crime he didn’t regret. One he’d gladly do again if he weren’t so afraid of the consequences.

“No you’re not,” Ethan responded coolly. Distracted. Focused on the wall of tools. “Don’t need to pretend you are.”

“B-ut y-”

“It won’t change anything. Just save it.” He wasn’t feeling the sadism. Not today. Not right now. Right now, this was a chore. Incapacitating the bastard so he wouldn’t ever be able to lay a finger on Ethan again.

Ethan selected a simple club hammer. Iron, he assumed. Polished to a shine on the square ends but left router and dark throughout the middle. Attached by a sturdy handle that could shunt the great weight of the tiny thing without buckling or splintering.

He wandered closer, earning a squirm from the man on the ground.

“..pl-leas-”

“Put your hand out on the ground,” Ethan ordered simply, crouching nearby.

A whine muffled out of Crawford’s curled form. His hands tucked in even closer - up against his chest.

Ethan’s teeth grit. “Either you listen, or I break whatever I have to to get to your hands.”

A silence with another whimper followed. The man still didn’t move.

“Alright,” he sighed, shifting forward onto one knee. Without warning, he swing the bludgeon down, cracking through the man’s shoulders. 

Ethan never could get used to the screams in this room. Maybe some day, but not today. There wasn’t enough softness in this room to steal away the sound and muffle it away. Not even a bit. It just echoed and rang, searing at his eardrums and clanging against the walls in an unending refrain.

He didn’t mind too much. Just enough that he made yet another mental note to bring earplugs. He never did, regardless of how many times he swore that the next time he went down he’d use them. He simply enjoyed the little sounds too much to mind the screams. Earplugs did keep the pain back, but they also took away all the little grunts, whispers, and wheezing, strained breath. They kept back the murmurs and minuscule pleas. The scraping rattle of the chain and the squeak of feet kicking against the polished floor.

It wasn’t like Ethan was a stranger to pain. His ears could ring. So what if he was half deaf by the time he was fifty? Plenty of people give up the same just to attend concerts. He was doing this for a far nobler cause and with a much higher satisfaction rate.

Ethan brought the hammer down twice more- on his bicep and elbow. One cracked, though he wasn’t sure which.

Unable to pull back against his grip, Crawford’s ruined arm was easily pried out by Ethan’s grip. He pinned the wrist down to the cold floor with a knee, then started again.

Fingers barely make a sound when they break. They’re so tiny and brittle, it’s a wonder they’re so useful in the body. Why don’t they break every other day? Anatomy was a wonder to him. One day, he’d study properly and learn to truly appreciate the human body. Its limits and its wonders alike.

Seven hits. Thirteen. Nineteen. Twenty-two. He stopped to reach down, gripping the mangled and mushed bit of flesh. Feeling the broken bones scrape against each other.

A quick glance to Crawford’s face told him the man was either dissociated or on the brink of unconsciousness. Maybe both.

He gave the hand one more squeeze before pulling out the other arm. The muscles there only gave vague hints at resisting, so he was able to pin that one down more easily.

Again, the smashing. The screams. The emptiness of the hand.

It reminded Ethan of rubber gloves. When you’re a child and fill it up with water at the sink. Tie it shut and play with the little blob that’s almost a hand. It had much of the same texture. Flopping fingers barely staying in place. Palm able to bend backwards more easily than the wrist. Soft and hot and difficult to keep a grip on.

He let it stay there as he swiveled around to the feet. Bare toes already bruised against the ground from struggles throughout the past three weeks that they’d had him here. He pinned down an ankle, finding no resistance at all. Ethan looked up to Crawford again. Unconscious, though half sentient through it. Breathing ragged and shallow with eyes almost completely closed. Limp.

Fortunately, Ethan wasn’t here today for the sadism. Crawford didn’t need to be awake or responsive for this session. In fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted Crawford much longer at all.

The hammer came down again and again, shattering the feet into bloody globs on the floor. Chipping up the bone to break his ankles and kneecaps as well. Swing and crunch. Swing and crunch. Swing and crunch.

He desperately wished he could get this man under an x-ray. See just how many bones he was breaking.

Ethan didn’t know how long he worked. He kept going up the arms and legs, feeling at the boneless structures for hints of sharpness and any seconds that were too firm. Then he would strike them as he had the rest. Break the something down to nothing again.

Ethan didn’t make his way back upstairs until the squid fucking itch at the back of his skull was satisfied that Crawford was utterly and irrevocably harmless.

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(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @wormwriting @distinctlywhumpthing @whump-cafe @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @azayta @batfacedliar-yetagain @there-will-always-be-blood @siren-of-agony @whumpworld @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101 @pickywhumpreader @whumpberry-cookie @morning-star-whump @nailevislev @throwawaywhumper @the-mourning-star @d-cs @pigeonwhumps @suspicious-whumping-egg @snakebites-and-ink @whumpedydump @whumplr-reader @rainbowsandwhumperflies @starfields08000 @crystallizedme @lumpofsand @taterswhump @starsick1979)

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[bleepbloopblogme]

Man, the barber (God) really fucked my shit up (owchy)