#whip wound

[clickerflight]

Voltober 22. Stubborn as a Mule - Clove

Author's notes: OOOOHHHHHHH a little peak into Ephraim's past? Don't mind if I yes!

Masterlist - Part 21

Content: vampire whumpee, gladiator ring, gladiator slave, manticore whumpee, manticore tail wound, sword wounds, whip wounds, trying to hide injury

@voltober

Defiant Whumpee | “I can do it by myself!” | Hidden Injury

Ephraim lifted his blade, fangs bared and crying out in victory. The manticore lay in the dirt pretending to be dead. He was a very good boy and Ephraim was very proud of him. The masters had also been very excited when Ephraim proved he could train Manny so they wouldn’t have to recapture any more of his kind and waste resources on that when they could use the same manticore over and over again.

The only issue was Ephraim had actually scared Manny and had taken a real injury in this fight. He couldn’t show that he had been hurt or his efforts to train Manny would go to waste. He grinned at the crowd as the servants of the ring pulled Manny out, the smallest flicking of his tail proving he was still alive, though people would be too distracted watching the victorious vampire to notice.

Ephraim swallowed hard as he felt blood trickle down his hip, mentally preparing himself for the next fight. He just needed to get through one more fight and then he could leave and lick his wounds. He’d get some blood for his efforts and he could rest.

“Welcome to the ring, the reigning champion! Erika the Flayer!”

Ephraim winced. Erika? Oh, this was going to be unpleasant.

The door to the ring opened and Erika strode in, her blade held up in one hand, her whip in the other. Ephraim and Erika were favorites to see together as they were very familiar with one another and even worked together to choreograph fights so they looked cooler, but Ephraim wasn’t sure he could do it today.

She met his eyes, eager, and saw the panic there. She raised an eyebrow and he set his face against the pain in his lower back. He was fine. No one would see the blood on the red robes the Masters had him wear to mark him as a vampire. He could fight through the pain.

He narrowed his eyes in concentration, tensing for the fight. Erika did so more slowly, confused.

Ephraim moved first when the gong was rung, dodging Erika’s lashing whip and getting into her guard, teeth shining in the sun.

He tried to knock her arm away, hoping she would drop a weapon, but she dodged around him and curled her muscled arm around his neck to control his head.

“What’s wrong?” she growled as he snarled and fought to escape, trying to stomp on her foot.

“Manny got me,” Ephraim hissed back. “You can beat me, but they can’t know.”

She clicked her tongue. “You’re an idiot. They’re going to know anyway.”

“Not if you tear up the wound with your whip.”

“Where.”

“Above my hip on my back, my left.”

She nodded and allowed him to break away. He lunged at her but she got a slice in across his chest, sending him back. He played up the monster angle, knowing the crowd liked to see him in control in front of monsters, but wanted him to be the monster when he was faced against a human fighter.

True enough, cheers went up, followed by screams of excitement as Erika cracked her whip, her aim true as the whip tore into the wound already on his back.

He screamed through his teeth falling to his hands and knees for a moment before pushing himself up and whirled around, avoiding the next strike.

He managed to knock her sword away on the next dive, and after a sweaty, sandy wrestle in the sand, Erika came up on top, holding a broken shard of glass she’d found in the sand to his throat.

He slowly uncurled his arms, laying them flat out to either side and lifted his chin in surrender. Erika stood up, raising her weapon into the air in victory, leading the next round of cheers from the crowd.

Ephraim panted in the sand, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened his eyes again he saw Erika standing over him, holding out a hand to help him up. “I can do it myself,” he growled, getting up despite the piercing pain in his back.

She shrugged a little. “I’m not the enemy here.”

Ephraim sighed heavily. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Meet you when I’m done with my fights. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

“Thanks, Erika.”

“Of course. Go ahead and head out.”

Ephraim nodded and limped his way over to the exit door.

VTB Part 23

Clove Masterlist

Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff 

@honeycollectswhump @whump-blog-reblogs @pigeonwhumps @mj-or-say10 @percy-frayer 

@currentlyinthesprial @scoundrelwithboba @whumps-and-bumps @hellodecisionparalysis @scatteriskity

[justaz]

merlin who stands against the wall while uther reprimands arthur, who stands behind arthur at dinners where uther’s disapproval and disappointment is apparent, who has been there when arthur is quiet and despondent after private meetings with his father, who has watched for years the sting of uther’s words and sometimes hands against his own son, who has bit his tongue and followed arthur with gentle hands and softer words as he puts the pieces back together of the man he knows and loves.

merlin watching uther lose his temper over arthur going against him for their people and watching arthur crawl into himself and shove his feelings down to be the emotionless prince his father expects of him. once uther’s rage has quelled somewhat, he dismisses arthur without another look and arthur leaves, his back ramrod straight and his chin held high despite the glazed look in his eyes, his last shot at keeping his composure. and merlin breaks, he glares at uther and waits until the doors shut to speak, in case arthur was close enough to hear.

merlin rants and raves at uther, calls him out on his bs, and tells him to be there for his son. ofc uther isn’t having any of it and yells back at merlin but merlin isn’t deterred and keeps going on and on about how much of a disappointment uther is as a father and how much better arthur deserves. uther steps in close and raises his hand as if to backhand merlin but he doesn’t. the two stare at each other, heated glare meeting heated glare, and finally uther mutters that he should have merlin flogged for speaking like that to him. merlin doesn’t waver as he welcomes uther too but he couldn’t just stand by and watch uther tear arthur apart anymore.

uther slowly lowers his hand and turns his back on merlin but he hasn’t given in to merlin’s argument so he switches tactics. he asks how uther expects arthur to be the sure, determined, and just king he is meant to be if uther won’t let him grow into his power and autonomy, let him learn his lessons and apply them as king. uther finally lowers his shoulders at merlin’s argument which just irks him more as uther clearly cares more for arthur as a future king rather than a son but he doesn’t point that out.

uther turns to stare at merlin and asks if he really just disrespected the king so horribly just for arthur, merlin nods once without hesitation and echoes “for arthur”. uther’s lips twitch despite himself and he nods and says how he is glad arthur has someone like merlin looking out for him. merlin tests his luck once more and responds that arthur could have more than just him, he could have a dad, not just a father.

merlin watches as arthur reports back to his father the next week about an expedition they had gone on to protect one of camelot’s outlying villages from raiders and uther grins wide and pulls arthur into an awkward side hug that’s more a complicated pat on his shoulder but at least it’s something. uther says openly how he’s proud and that camelot should feel lucky to have a prince who is looking out for her.

arthur is stunned and manages a slight bow to his father as he leaves (merlin and uther exchanging a glance and nod as he passes). merlin watches arthur as the room empties and a wide, proud smile stretches across his face. merlin feels warm and fuzzy at the sight and chuckles as arthur spins and pulls merlin into a similar side hug while laughing loudly. the two of them have the most fun that day, spending the rest of the daylight goofing off and running around with no particular goal in mind other than enjoying the day. it’s the happiest merlin has seen arthur be for such a long period of time.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Crack That Whip: Chaggie & Hazbins

Slight Puppy Love reference.

Vaggie: (wearing a pair of black jogger sweatpants with the cuffs rolled up to her knees and a sports bra) Are you sure you want to do this, babe? You're not really much of a fighter. (Hastily) Which I love about you.

Charlie: (drooling and giving little puppy pants at the sight of Vaggie's abs, shoulders, and traps) I wanna lick you so bad right now...

Vaggie: (stretching and warming up) What was that, hun?

Charlie: This is the best way I can learn how!

Angel: (sitting on a bench with a bowl of popcorn) Nice save, Toots.

Husker: (hosting a betting pool) Place your bets. How long will the Princess last?

Cherri: (takes a handful of popcorn) Put twenty hellbucks on her lasting one minute.

Charlie: I know I'm not much of a fighter. Adam wiping the floor with me proved that. I want to at least be able to hold my own in the future if that ever happens again.

Inner Sin - Lust: (growling) And if we can get scissors between those molten caramel thighs, all the better~

Charlie: (mentally) Shut up, Lust! Now is not the time!

Vaggie: (completely oblivious to Charlie's inner steuggle) Alright, if you say so. Just.... tap twice if you yield.

Charlie: Wait. What?

Vaggie: (lunges forward, grabs Charlie's shirt, leans back while shoving her foot into Charlie's hip, flips them over, and pins Charlie down while cutting off the blood flow using her own shirt collar)

Charlie: (getting lightheaded/swimming as dark circles encroach on her vision and taps Vaggie's thigh twice)

Vaggie: (releases her hold and scrambles to her feet, holding her hand out to help) Oh. Shit! Charlie, are you okay?????

Charlie: I'm good! I'm gooooood. Hmmmm.... (grows tail and swipes at Vaggie's wrist)

Vaggie: (Catches the tail and uses it to roll Charlie over, pinning her down to the mat with her knee) Nice try, babe. Don't think I wouldn't have this thing in mind.

Tail: (thrashing and trying desperately to wrap around any part of Vaggie's body)

Vaggie: Oh, no. You behave. (straightens out the flailing limb and cracks it through the air like a whip)

CRACK!!!

Charlie: (immediately groans filthily as her eyes pop red and her horns burst from her head) Mommy!~

Angel & Cherri: (drop their handfuls of popcorn and blushes) Mommy!

Husker: (dollar bills slip through his fingers) Mommy....

Emily: (watching the whole thing from the crystal ball in heaven, spits out her tea with a deep blush) M-M-Mommy!

[arradraws]

Using a certain priest of Loviatar to try outfits out again...😆

[tired-fandom-ndn]

thinking about blood and violence and pain 🥰

[copics-and-renegades]

Whumptober 2024 Day 22: Reopening Wounds

"If I catch you with so much as a plaster strip again, I'll skin you like a fucking alley cat."

---

... Having genuine trouble coming up with comments to make about my art again here, huh.

[what-the-whump]

~The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp, 2x13, Take Back Your Town~

[beatupcorpse]

Skywounds An AU where after reversing back time with the wish, it still keeps the injuries they got and they have a vague memory of what happened is like a swap Jay and Nya still got back together (eventually?), I dont have specifics but probably because after the whole thing, the anger mellowed out

funfact: Some of the injuries are inspired by some of my fav fics! Jay's blind eye is from Mondo's fic and the bullet wound on his side is from this fic by dear friend Jem! Mind the warnings in these fics pls! ♥

also an extra that you can call a sneak peek to a comic Im working on!

I wonder what happened to hiiim n why he didn't taaaaalk about it how suspicious

[skyward-floored]

Me: okay I’m going to actually work on figuring out ideas for other whumptober days, I will succeed I will prevail—

Day 2: >:)

[clickerflight]

and then because i’m a softie at my core. pls some caretaking for poor gun wizard…./

AHHHHH He's not free yet, but his chimerat familiar (kudos to my friend @dragonfangart on Cara or tumblr for the design) managed to sneak in. While the familiar can't free him, he can provide some comfort and did manage to sneak in a rag soaked in healing potions.

Send asks to continue Torrin's interrogation! Osian still needs that information about guard patterns after all.

If you want to be on the tag list or have a name idea for the chimerat familiar, let me know either in the comments or reblogs or smoke signals or whatever.

Previous - Masterlist - Next

[serickswrites]

Krampus

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, whipping, drowning, blood, wounds, drugging

Team Leader sagged heavily in the chains that kept them standing at attention at the whipping post. Their back was raw and painful, though they were sure the bleeding had stopped hours ago. They could barely keep their eyes open. But they had to. For the team's sake.

"I'll make you a deal," Whumper had said once they finished whipping Team Leader. "I will only hurt your team, but I won't kill them if you can keep awake."

Team Leader had barely been conscious at that point, but they couldn't let their team down. They clawed their way to consciousness and fought to keep their eyes open.

But it had been hard.

Watching Teammate One get waterboarded for an hour had been difficult. Hearing Teammate One's drowning sounds had shaken Team Leader to their core. But they knew that Teammate One would live. They could keep awake for Teammate One. Teammate One wouldn't drown.

Watching Teammate Two be whipped at another post had been painful. Each crack had Team Leader jumping. Each cry of pain had them cringing. Because they knew how painful it was. How much pain Teammate Two had to be in. But they stayed awake.

Whumper stopped whipping Teammate Two and left Teammate Two unconscious and in chains at the whipping post. "Why are you still awake?"

"I won't let you kill my people," Team Leader said through gritted teeth. "I can stay awake."

Whumper stood just in front of Smallest Teammate. "You can, can you?" They grabbed Smallest Teammate by the hair. Smallest Teammate cried out, unable to grab onto Whumper to stop being dragged. "You'll stay awake so I don't drown this one? They are so pretty. It would be lovely to watch the bubbles escape their lips. Lovely to watch them go still in the water."

"I won't let you kill them," Team Leader growled.

Whumper dragged Smallest Teammate to a large tub in the center of the room. They shoved Smallest Teammate in, clipping the cuffs to a ring at the bottom of the tub. Satisfied that Smallest Teammate wouldn't escape, Whumper walked over to the table of instruments at the side of the room. "We'll just see how long you can stay awake after this, Team Leader."

Team Leader strained to see what Whumper had grabbed and was walking towards them with. "I won't pass out. I won't fail my team."

Whumper turned on the hose attached to the tub as the walked by. Team Leader could hear Smallest Teammate struggle against their cuffs to get out of the rapidly filling tub.

"We'll just see about that," Whumper sneered at Team Leader. They plunged a needle into Team Leader's arm before Team Leader could reply.

The room spun as Team Leader had a rush of blood to the head. "What....what did you give me?" Everything was hazy and they couldn't blink through the haze.

Whumper smirked. "Just a little something they use to sedate people before surgery. It should be taking effect any moment now."

Team Leader's heart raced as they could feel unconsciousness begin to suck them under. They couldn't fall asleep. They couldn't let Smallest Teammate drown. "I...I...I..." but the words died on Team Leader's tongue as it became heavy in their mouth.

"Sleep tight, Team Leader. Don't worry, I'll be sure to record Smallest Teammate's bath for you. We can review all the beautiful, final moments together when you wake."

And though Team Leader raged against the dying of the light, they couldn't keep their eyes open. They prayed that Whumper wouldn't let Smallest Teammate drown. That they wouldn't wake to a world without Smallest Teammate. Team Leader's grip on consciousness faded to the sounds of Smallest Teammate struggling to keep their head above water.

[its-cosmerely-an-obsesh-wound]

Ok, so here's the thing...

I've been thinking a lot about Kaladin's story arc since Chapters 1 & 2 were released and I can't shake the feeling that he's gonna end up some noble sacrifice and it kills me for ONE REASON. Remember that scene in Oathbringer when he held Oroden for the first time? It was beyond precious, right? Now can you imagine if he were holding his OWN CHILD?

Here's the Oroden scene I'm talking about for reference:

Kaladin trembled, then pulled the child tight against him. Memories of this place had not broken him, and seeing his parents had not overwhelmed him, but this … 

Here's the first clincher:

He could not stop the tears. He felt like a fool. It wasn’t as if this changed anything—Bridge Four were his brothers now, as close to him as any blood relative. And yet he wept. “What’s his name?”

“Oroden.”

“Child of peace,” Kaladin whispered. “A good name. A very good name.”

I might be paraphrasing here a bit but this is basically what happens between the first and second clinchers...

Kaladin says: "FATHER, IT'S THE DESOLATION (whoops, shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that...in front of everyone). Oh well."

Naturally, this starts a panic, but don't worry, Kaladin reassures everyone, as only Kaladin can and says:

"You know the people who betrayed humankind in the last Desolation? The Knights Radiant? Yeah, we're back bitches!"

To punctuate this statement, he draws his Sylspear and sucks in some stormlight to levitate for dramatic effect, then says:

"Don't worry. We gotcha this time, fam. Sorry, gotta fly though, the king in that fabled city that no one really believes exists anymore needs me back in said fabled city."

Then, as he's departing, he looks at his little brother and here's the second clincher:

You I will protect, little one, Kaladin thought at the child. I will protect them all.

Then he's like "later bitches" and flies off into the sunset.

Just kidding. It was nighttime and raining, but I digress...

All I'm saying is what kind of chest-aching delight would it be to see Kaladin holding his own child? I feel like he would be grimacing hard trying to hold back until he finally just...broke. Then it would be this gorgeous raw outpouring of emotion, like full-on ugly crying, but comprised of nothing but happy tears and I love that for him. My heart would explode and I would drown in my own happy tears.

I just realized when writing this post that Kaladin's happiness is my happiness. Welp, I might have to go write a fic about this, for my own perfectly selfish reasons...I'll write you a happy ending, my dude ❤️

*grumbles in untamed ADHD* As if I don't have enough unfinished WIPs right now...

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Hi again, my love!

Can I request something with mermaids?

offers ice cream as well <33

Hi thelazywitchphotographer! Of course! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

Whumper pushed open the door to their quarters. They were greeted by the quiet cries of Whumpee.

“My darling,” Whumper said, approaching them, “what’s wrong? I would think you would be acclimated to your new life by now…”

Whumpee turned to look at Whumper with tear-filled eyes. Whumper’s own eyes widened at what they saw. Their darling mermaid’s body was littered with deep cuts and angry, purple bruises. Blood trickled down from a nasty gash in their tail, staining the water of their tub with crimson. When Whumper spoke, it was with a fragile, practiced calm.

“Who did this to you?” they asked.

Whumpee sniffled.

“I-I don’t know their name,” they said.

“Describe them to me,” Whumper said gently, “you’re not in any trouble, little fish.”

Whumpee took a deep, shuddering breath, and described their assailant as best they could.

“Crewmate,” Whumper cursed.

Whumper’s hand settled on the handle of their cutlass, they turned to leave when Whumpee’s sniffles brought their attention back.

“Oh,” they said, “forgive me, little Whumpee. Let me treat your wounds first.”

Whumper lifted Whumpee out of the tub in a bridal carry. They deposited them on their bed, then went to a nearby cabinet, fetching medicine and bandages from it. Whumper poured the medicine onto a cloth.

“This might sting, but it’ll help, I promise.”

With that, Whumper dabbed the cloth into the gash in Whumpee’s tail. Their screams made Whumper flinch, but they continued to work anyway. When everything was medicated, Whumper dressed the wounds in soft, white bandages. Whumpee’s screams had died down to pitiful, intermittent sobs by then. Whumper held their mermaid close and ran a hand through their hair.

“Shh, shhh,” they soothed, “you did so wonderful, my little fish. I promise, I won’t let this happen again.”

Whumper grabbed a bottle filled with a strange liquid. They lifted Whumpee’s chin and held the bottle to their lips.

“Drink,” they said, “you need rest. This will help.”

Whumpee knew better than to disobey, so they drank. Whumper smiled softly and helped them into a laying position, covering them with a blanket.

…

Whumpee slept for many hours. When they did wake, it was to the sound of the door opening once again.

“Whumpee,” Whumper said, “come on deck. I need you for something.”

Whumper picked Whumpee up and carried them out on deck. Whumpee shielded their eyes from the bright sun with a bandaged hand. Whumper sat Whumpee down in another tub that had been prepared for them.

“First Mate,” Whumper called.

“Aye, captain?” First Mate asked.

“Bring forward the scum that thought they could touch what’s mine.”

“Very good, captain.”

First Mate dragged Crewmate forward.

“On your knees, filth,” First Mate growled.

Crewmate shakily obliged.

“Whumpee,” Whumper said, “is this the person who hurt you?”

“I-”

“Tell the truth,” Whumper warned, “I will know if you lie.”

“…Yes,” Whumpee said quietly, “it was them.”

Whumper kissed Whumpee on the crown of their head.

“Thank you,” they said, “because you were honest, I’m going to let you choose their punishment.”

Whumpee stared at Crewmate. Even though the pirate had hurt them, they didn’t want anyone else to suffer.

“Um, maybe, put them in the brig?” WHumpee asked uncertainly.

Whumper smiled and nodded.

“A fitting punishment,” they said, “First Mate, throw Crewmate in the brig.”

Whumpee breathed a sigh of relief.

“-After their twenty lashes. Two for each wound I had to treat.”

Whumpee blinked. Not that!

“No! Captain, please!” Crewmate begged.

“Spare me your mewling before I decide to cut your tongue out,” Whumper said coldly.

“Whumper-” Whumpee started.

“They deserve it, my darling,” Whumper interjected, “you’ll understand one day.”

Whumper picked up Whumpee once again.

“I leave them in your capable hands, First Mate,” Whumper said, “my treasure doesn’t need to watch this.”

Whumper turned and carried their darling back to their quarters, just when Crewmate began to scream.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm

[hellaverse-critical-confessions]

(from this video)

[serickswrites]

Bring V

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, whipping, blood, unconsciousness, wounds, burns, scalding

“PLEASE!” Sidekick begged once more as Villain paused in their whipping. 

“Please, what, Sidekick?” Villain circled around to face Sidekick, whip gripped tightly in their hand. 

Sidekick swallowed. Right Hand could see the sweat beading on Sidekick’s forehead. Could see the tears on their cheeks. Could see Sidekick’s throat working as they spoke. “Please. I’ll do anything. Please. Stop.”

“Anything?” Villain cocked a brow. “That’s a big promise, Sidekick.”

“Anything,” Sidekick repeated desperately. “Whatever you have of me.”

Villain set the whip on a nearby table. Right Hand could see Sidekick sag with relief. Right Hand felt their own relief. They couldn’t stand to watch Villain torture Sidekick for much longer. But they didn’t want to be the one that Villain tortured either. 

“Get the two buckets I had one of the others fill,” they ordered Right Hand. Villain didn’t so much as look up to see if Right Hand would follow the order. “I told you what I wanted,” Villain cooed as they stalked closer to Sidekick. 

Right Hand couldn’t hear what Villain was saying to Sidekick as they left to grab the buckets. Right Hand stared down at the bucket of salt and boiling water. What did Villain want with these?

“Boss, here are your buckets,” Right Hand said upon their return. 

Villain took a step back from Sidekick. Sidekick sobbed openly, their chest heaving. “Please, please,” they begged. 

Villain ignored them. “Pour the salt on their back.” 

Right Hand froze. No. “What, Boss?”

Villain rolled their eyes. “We really do need to get your hearing checked. I said pour the salt on their back.”

“Me?” Right Hand’s mouth went dry as they realized Villain wanted them to participate first hand in Sidekick’s torture. 

“Yes, you. Or you’ll be up there next. Now, Right Hand.” Villain glared as they crossed their arms. 

Right Hand hurried to get behind Sidekick. “I am sorry about this,” they whispered in Sidekick’s ear as they leaned over to hold the bucket high enough. Before Sidekick could reply, Right Hand dumped the bucket. 

Sidekick’s screams echoed in Right Hand’s ears. Their twisting jerking motions trying to escape the pain burned Right Hand’s retinas. Sidekick’s wounds, already raw and bloody, continued to bleed and their skin turned red as the salt became embedded in each wound. Their begging and sobbing would forever haunt Right Hand. 

Until Villain spoke once more. “And now the water.”

Right Hand stared down at the bucket of steaming water at their feet. No. They couldn’t. “Right Hand if you do not pour that bucket on Sidekick, I promise you’ll wish that this was the only thing I did to you.”

Right Hand swallowed as they lifted the bucket. Their tongue felt too big for their mouth, their hands shaking as they raised it. 

“Please, please, please,” Sidekick repeated over and over as their head hung low. 

“Please, forgive me,” Right Hand whispered once more as they dumped the bucket. 

Sidekick’s skin, already red from their torture, turned redder, the skin swelling and splitting in other places. As the water dissolved the salt in Sidekick’s wounds, Sidekick’s choking screams cut off. They went limp in the cuffs as the scream died on their lips. 

Right Hand’s chest was heaving as they realized what they had done. To Sidekick. To save themself. They had not signed up for this. Had not agreed to bear witness, to participate in the torture. Had not agreed to any of this. 

Villain stalked closer once more, gripping Sidekick’s chin tightly as they lifted Sidekick’s head. “You really are pathetic.”

Tags: @ha-ha-one @skys-fantasy @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @a-place-to-put-poetry @subval01 @smuwfy-side-blog @friendlylandcrustacean @annablogsposts @st0rmm @freefallingup13 @lit-lists @saltyontheside @pieswhump 

[painsandconfusion]

Strikeout

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Thirty-two

(tw: escape attempt, broken glass, broken ceramic, gun, bullet wound, stress position, beating, shock collar, threat of death, broken bones, concussion, blood, whipping boy / scape goat, bludgeoning, forced to watch)

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Four years ago...

Ethan scurried through the house. He didn’t bother with the front door - instead, picked up a metal coat tree and hurtled it against the window. 

He didn’t have time for less. He barely had time to scoop up a kitchen rug and lay it over the shards of glass to safely clamber out the window.

He toppled to the ground in a heap, wild eyes snapping up at the small plume of dust on the horizon. He knew he didn’t have long before Crawford came home but…fuck this was closer than expected. 

Without a thought, he shoved his legs up under him, cradled the bit of porcelain to his neck, and darted off across the wide, rolling yard.

.

“E, this is crazy - will that even work??”

“Porcelain doesn’t conduct electricity. It’ll work.”

There wasn’t much Crawford left them in their little, dank basement. But the toilet was an asset Ethan had never thought to use before. 

Crawford had taken the lid of the tank - the bastard - but the rest of it was still in tact. 

Ethan had slammed his shoulder against it again and again and again until a chunk broke off of the tank, wafting back and forth through the water until it eventually settled at the bottom of the tank. 

With wild eyes and bleeding arm, he’d fished it out, blotting the fresh water off against his shorts. 

Then tucked it up under his collar, ensuring it was wide enough to fit between both of the prongs and the soft, scorched skin on his neck. 

Sharp as it was (it wasn’t bad), the coolness of the shard felt nice against the aching skin.

More importantly, it’d protect him from the shock.

“Just…be careful, okay?” Johnny stepped up to hi, fingers tracing the piece to inspect it.

“I’m always careful.” Ethan cradled Johnny’s face in his hands and leant down to press a kiss to his forehead.

.

Ethan’s legs were already burning by the time he got halfway across the yard. He had no idea what day it was. No idea how long he had belonged to Crawford - or Elias before him. No idea how long his legs had been left to atrophy, sitting useless in basements and cells. 

He ran anyway. 

Ethan couldn’t help but grin through the pain as he felt the buzz and snap of the shock collar - yet he didn’t feel a thing. Porcelain protecting him. 

He was free. He could get out and get help and they’d come back for Johnny an-

“COME THE FUCK BACK OR I’LL KILL HIM.”

A chill split down Ethan’s pine as his legs stumbled to a stop, shaking and exhausted. Breath ragged and sharply cold in the deep autumn air. 

So much agony already. 

His eyes drifted toward the skyline, eyeing skyscrapers that blurred and fogged with the distance. 

He turned back toward Crawford, pulling in another painful breath. “YOU WOULDN’T-” Trying to call his bluff.

“THINK NOT? THINK I WANT EVIDENCE LYING AROUND WHEN YOU BRING THE FUCKIN PIGS BACK HERE??”

…fuck. 

Ethan’s chest was still heaving as he turned to look at the vague outline of the city again. 

..it was far. 

Too fucking far, his legs were already shaking at a quarter mile. He was too thin. Too weak. Too..broken to make that run and not get caught. 

..and Johnny would die.

Some devil on his shoulder vaguely flickered the thought across his mind that even if Johnny died, Ethan would be free.

That thought flitted away just as quickly as it came. Unwanted and irrelevant. 

Ethan would die a thousand times for Johnny. He knew that. Down to his very soul, he knew that. 

When he looked back to Crawford, the man had a gun out now, walking briskly across the lawn toward him like a mother two inches from the end of her patience with children throwing mud at neighbors windows. 

“Get. The fuck. Back here.” Close enough he didn’t need to shout anymore, apparently.

Ethan’s mind buzzed and warped, legs begging him to run as the rest of him stayed stubbornly put. 

..then…dragged him toward Crawford. Toward the gun. Toward the house. 

Toward Johnny. 

.

“If he comes, you’ll run, right? You won’t worry about me?”

Ethan pulled in a tight breath, nuzzling his nose against Johnny’s. “That’s..the best bluff, yeah. He won’t hurt you on my behalf if I’m not here to see it. There’s no point.”

Johnny nodded, tucking his cheek against Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan pulled him closer as warm arms wrapped around his waist. Soft and simple. 

If this were just him, he could live with it. He could try to escape in his own time or bear the pain. 

But Johnny would die if Crawford kept wailing on him like he’d been. 

They needed to try.

.

Ethan came back anyway. He’d barely flinched when Crawford shot him in the leg for good measure - ensuring he couldn’t change his mind and run again. It was point blank, too. The moment Ethan had stepped up to him, the gun lowered - seemingly a good thing - then went off. 

Because of course it did.

Because Crawford was a dick. 

The pain didn’t hit him right away. Not the way it should. 

Body shocked by the sudden change, it felt more like a fist to his thigh than penetration. 

But the searing, aching wrongness had set in all the same and Crawford forced him back into the house, muscles shifting and pulling against each other around the bullet. 

Ethan refused to give him the satisfaction of a limp. 

It was going to hurt like a bitch anyway. 

By the time he shoved Ethan down the basement steps - his leg didn’t hold up for that one, he fell freely down the stairs and cracked his head against the cement with a dazed groan - Johnny was already anxiously stepped up to the stairs, hands clasped against his chest with eyes wild with fear and worry. “E-”

Ethan winced as Johnny’s cool fingers pressed against his head where it’d hit. Trying to get his mind to catch up properly. Trying to shake off the daze. 

“Forget about him - front and center, boy.” Crawford’s heavy steep creaked down the stairs after him - planting onto Ethan’s leg as he went. 

The pain ripped up through him, feeling it fully this time without the consciousness to distract himself. A wheezing groan crackled out Ethan’s throat at the pain, and he hazily tried to curl up and away from the pressure. 

But it was gone in moments. 

Fingers wound into Johnny’s hair, followed by a yelp as he was pulled away, Ethan’s fingers catching against Johnny’s. Trying to keep him away from the threat. 

It didn’t work. 

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut tight and forced himself up to sitting. Almost. Kind of. 

He was swayed to the side, legs bent the other way and both arms braced against the floor as he tried to force the pain and swirling nausea back. 

“D-ont-” His voice sounded so much weaker than he wanted, and he cursed himself for not watching his fucking head as he fell. He didn’t have time for a concussion right now-

“You know the rules.”

.

"I love you..you know that, right?"

"..I know." He knew. But the words still felt stale. It felt like goodbye.

Johnny's cheek was so soft under Ethan's thumb. He barely noticed the bruises there anymore.

"I love you, too."

.

Ethan hadn’t even registered that Crawford had Johnny tied already - arms above his head and dangling from a rafter - toes barely brushing the ground now. Didn’t notice it, at least, until Johnny let out a gasping choke of air, voice sucked away by the hit as a bat slammed against his leg.

A bat.

A…bat???

Ethan squeezed the stars from his eyes once again, focusing better - it was a bat. 

No punching or kicking this time, he was using tools. Crawford never used tools - preferred a proper, traditional beating where he could feel ribs crack under his knuckles and feel flesh shift. It wasn’t about the damage - it was about catharsis. 

But this?? A fucking bat? 

Damage. 

This was about damage.

Ethan’s eyes were wide and desperate as he realized that, trying to drag himself closer as Johnny’s broken, strained scream echoed against the walls after the wood snapped against his leg. 

“Dont-” Ethan dragged himself closer. “D-don-”

“Shut up-! You know the fucking rules.”

Ethan fucks up? Johnny gets hurt. 

He knew the rules.

Still, Ethan found his hand wrapped around Crawford’s ankle, trying to plead with him.

The bat found Ethan’s skull next. 

And everything went black.

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