#cauterization

[triwhumphant]

Day 15: Alt Prompt - Blood Loss

Scorpion 01x22

[whumpbug]

this little fic is heavily heavily inspired by this post from @whump-kia because i just couldnt get the idea out of my silly brain so i brain vomited onto my notes app

context →

kinda sorta wilderness/sci-fi/apocolypse setting.. it honestly could go all ways but the important factors are 1) they are in a team 2) there are enemies they are on the run from and 3) there isnt really magic healing or anything available

i wrote it as medic kinda being the most competent one in general while leader and teammate are frazzled as hell at the situation and could be read as newer to the team but that isn't necessarily my intention!

whumpee: Medic

caretaker(s): Leader and Teammate

[all characters gender neutral]

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The room fell silent. All eyes were suddenly trained on Medic who threw open the door and staggered in.

With a dagger wedged in their side.

The team had been on the run from enemies for the better part of a week now. Even though they weren't completely in the clear, the team was completely worn out. They all needed a good rest.

They were setting up camp at one of their many bases, and Medic offered to scout the area alone. Leader honestly didn’t think it was a good idea, but they were too preoccupied to think to argue it further.

Now, they sincerely wished they had.

“Medic.. oh god, oh god” whispered Teammate.

“Ambush,” They explained. “It’s.. it’s okay, I took care of it..” Medic replied cooly, but the color was quickly draining from their face. Teammate frowned and continued questioning them, but Leader heard none of it.

Leader took a shaky breath, but their feet were planted. They couldn’t move. They were frozen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No, Medic was untouchable. Medic was steadfast and reliable, always there when the team needed them.

Medic wasn’t supposed to go out like this. Medic wasn’t supposed to get hurt.

Leader’s breathing hitched again. Their head was reeling. What were they going to do?! No one on the team was qualified to fix this other than the person dripping blood all over the floor, yet it was still Leader’s job to do something. It was too much, it was too—

“Leader.”

Medic’s voice cut through the room like a knife through butter.

“I need you to listen to me. Carefully. Can you do that?”

Leader swallowed the lump in their throat. They nodded.

Medic took another step forward, only for their foot to catch on the ground, sending them stumbling forward. Teammate caught them by the upper arm and unceremoniously lowered them to the ground.

“Alright,” Medic began. Their face was scrunched up in pain. “Leader. I’m going to walk you through how to fix this, okay? I'm going to be fine.”

“Right. Right, I can help you.. just- just tell me what to do.” Leader said, forcing their voice to remain steady.

“Do you see that fire poker over there? I’m going to need you to grab it and stick the end of it into the fire. We want it to get really hot, okay?” Medic explained methodically.

If it weren’t for the blade sticking out of Medic’s middle, you’d think there was nothing even wrong with them. They seemed like everything was under control. They really seemed fine.

But not to their team.

No, their team didn’t miss Medic’s pallor, the way their eyebrows were pinched together, the way the sweat was beading on their brow. Their team didn’t miss the way their hands were trembling, the way their gaze was glassy, and the way they were slumped against the wall, seemingly sapped of their strength.

Medic was fighting to hold on, but it was a losing battle. They really didn’t have much time before they passed out from blood loss, or worse.

Leader’s resolve came back to them all at once. They nodded sharply and did as they were told, sticking the poker into the fire and leaving it on the hearth. While the team waited anxiously for the poker to heat up, Leader took the opportunity to adjust Medic into a more comfortable position against the wall. This earned a strangled grunt from Medic.

“Okay, Leader.. this.. this is important. Once that poker gets red-hot, you’re.. you’re going to have to pull out the blade from my wound and cauterize it.. immediately.” They choked out, shifting to give Leader a better view of their abdomen.

Leader’s face blanched.

“Cauterize?? Why not sutures? Surely that’s less painful,” Leader protested, only to be shushed by Medic raising their hand.

“I don’t have.. I can’t stay awake to walk you through that.. cau.. cauterization is.. quicker..”

Leader could tell Medic was reaching their limit. The wound, despite being partially plugged by the dagger, had been steadily dripping blood for a while now. Leader could tell by the way Medic’s voice was faltering and the way their shoulders were drooping that they were utterly spent. They had to hurry up.

Leader glanced at the fire poker, and upon seeing it burning hot, they grabbed a towel and picked it up.

“Alright. What’s next.”

Medic steeled their nerves and spoke.

“You and Teamate will have to work together. Leader, you’ll.. you’ll need to pull out the dagger and immediately press the poker along th.. the wound.. As soon as you pull it out, it’s going to start bleeding even faster.. you need to seal it immediately, just until the bleeding stops..”

Leader nods, though they hate this with every fiber of their being. They’ve never had to have had a wound cauterized before, thanks to Medic’s dilligency. Still, they know the procedure is agonizing and not one they are thrilled to perform on Medic.

Medic gaze flits to Teammate.

“You.. you have a very important job.. I need.. I’m gonna need you to hold me down. As soon as that metal hits my skin, I’m going to scream. I mean really scream. I’m also going to jerk away. I need you to hold me down, no.. no matter what happens, even if I pass out, so Leader doesn’t end up making the wound worse. Can you do that?”

Teammate frowns, but gives a quick nod. Teammate was always more timid, but now, in this moment, their jaw was set and there was a determined glint in their eyes. By God, they were going to help Medic.

Leader got up and sat on Medic’s legs to restrain them, and held the fire poker at their side. Using their free hand they gently grasped the handle of the blade sticking out of Medic, careful not to jostle it in the wound. Still, Medic inhaled sharply.

Teammate got behind Medic looping their arms behind theirs and holding them tight.

“Alright.. just.. just give me a count down..” Medic said, their voice low.

Leader nodded.

“3.”

Medic sucked in a breath.

“2.”

Teammate tightened their grip.

“1.”

Everything that happened after that countdown couldn’t have been more than 10 seconds, but to Medic, it felt like 10 years.

As soon as the dagger was removed, Leader pressed the hot metal into the wound. The guttural scream that tore from Medic’s throat was nausea-inducing.

Immediately, every muscle in their body seized up as they violently thrashed against the white-hot pain. Medic’s sobs rang out through the entire facility. Everyone in the vicinity flinched at the sound.

Their Medic, their savior, was now reduced to gut-wrenching cries.

Leader adjusted themself to sit on Medic’s thighs, effectively immobilizing them.

Teammate had to yank Medic’s arms down, using all their strength to keep them still.

“I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry..” Teammate whispered softly, tears blurring their vision.

Right as Leader was about to finish sealing the wound, Medic let out a gurgling gasp as their eyes rolled back into their head and they went limp.

“Medic? Hey, Medic?” Teammate mewled, lightly tapping their cheek.

Both Leader and Teammate finally loosened their grip on them and lowered Medic to the ground with as much care as they could muster.

“Hey, c’mon Medic.. wake up for us, yeah?” Leader coaxed, brushing a strand of hair from Medic’s eyes.

Medic’s eyelids finally fluttered open, but they looked utterly exhausted. Their face was streaked with sweat and there were tears tracks lining their pale cheeks. Still, they gave a weak smile.

“You.. you guys did great..” They managed, but not before their eyes slipped close yet again.

Both Leader and Teammate exchanged a laugh at how absurd it was that Medic was praising them for doing well. Still, the worst of it was over and everyone could breathe again. They knew they should get Medic up and into medbay, but they silently agreed to let Medic rest for a few moments longer.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[jumpywhumpywriter]

"I Want You to Scream" -- Hero Tortured by Villain, Intimate Whumper part 3

Warnings: chains/restraints, severe torture, blood, cauterization, iron rod branding, knives, intimate whump, etc.

"My, you sure are tense," Villain giggled as he shivered again.

Hero made an effort to still himself, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing he was afraid -- but his body betrayed him, and he couldn't stop shaking, small tremors wracking his whole form. He wasn't just afraid, he was terrified. Such a new feeling for the typically fearless hero.

It was worse now that he couldn't see what Villain was doing. So much worse. He didn't know what to expect. What to brace himself for.

But it certainly startled him when he felt soft lips kiss the back of his sweaty neck -- a characteristic theme for Villain, he'd noted, before the real torture started. Pleasure for her before pain for him.

Villain's warm breath ghosted over his skin as she pulled back, and Hero cried out in surprise as a sharp blade bit into the back of his shoulder, unexpectedly with no warning.

Villain started slicing methodically into Hero's back, driving maddening screams and wails from him as she began her artwork.

The pain was intense, and Hero didn't even try to suppress his screams. There was no way he could hold back the sounds of his suffering. All hope of maintaining composure was long gone.

A rough hand tangled in his hair, shoving his face down into the pillow that muffled another ragged shriek as Villain's weight shifted, allowing her access to a new patch of untouched skin on his lower back that she dug into without hesitation.

It must have gone on for hours, because Hero passed out several times, before snapping awake shortly after each time to even more agony as Villain viciously carved elaborate, elegant designs into him until his flesh was a fancy mosaic of blood and injuries.

His struggles were losing steam, his screams devolving into agonized whimpers and choked sobs as he cried helplessly into the pillow, staining it with tears. His whole back was on fire, and he could feel trails of his own blood rolling down his sides to hit the mattress. The white bedsheets turned red with Hero's blood as they soaked it up.

"Nnnhhh... Please... Please no more..." Hero moaned pathetically, twitching weakly beneath Villain. He was only half-conscious from the splitting pain spearing his body. He sucked in a raspy breath of air as Villain grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back as far as it would go, making it hard to breathe.

Hero's eyes fluttered, going in and out of focus before he managed to lock his gaze onto Villain's blurry face, peering dizzily at her. He must have lost a lot more blood than he thought.

He could see Villain's mouth moving, but couldn't comprehend what she was saying, too out of it with pain.

Then, all at once, the weight on his back disappeared, along with the hand in his hair, and he was distantly aware of the room's door slamming open.

In his peripheral he could see several figures barge in, and through the buzzing haze in his mind he recognized them as his teammates. They had finally found him.

A rattling breath of relief escaped Hero. His friend's horrified shouts were muffled and warped to him as his hearing went, before his sight followed a heartbeat later. The last thing he was aware of was someone taking the metal cuffs off his wrists before the darkness claimed him completely.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba

[aph-centric-fixs]

This is going to hurt

First fic!! I've had this idea for awhile so why not make it my first one?

CW// poor descriptions of Blood, puncture wounds, descriptions of cauterizing wounds, and probably extremely ooc/cringe writing (super shitty ❤️)

Minecraft Diaries:

Aphmau, Laurance, Garroth, Dante x Blacksmith Reader (platonic) (Gender neutral)

No set date/event this takes place. Not really canon oriented.

It was dead at night, but that didn't matter. The houses ran down the path, searching for the village circled on the map. Laurance led the way with the map as Garroth followed close by, though he was more so focused on the lady in his arms. Dante followed up the rear.

An ambush caught them all by surprise, much to the disappointment and embarrassment of all three of the guards. The surprise left Aphmau hurt, an arrow piercing her side and leaving her in agony from it. It didn't go through, staying stuck right in between.

Garroth had wanted to pull out the arrow as soon as possible, but Laurance advised against it. As the three panicked about what to do, Aphmau had grabbed the map from her satchel and circled a little spot on it. It seemed almost random to the three, as there wasn't a city or town marked there, but they decided it was their best bet of keeping her alive.

The closer the three got closer to the location, they could see a fence and light coming from the trees. Laurance called out, practically screaming as the people, assumingly standing guard, panicked and opened the gate for the three.

After the three made it in their horses had come to a halt at their command. Not many houses were lightened, seeing as it was dark most were in bed asleep. Their best bet was a building similar to a blacksmiths. The windows were illuminated and the chimney puffed out consistent smoke.

Garroth got off his horse first, gently pulling Aphmau off and into his arms. Laurance and Dante followed suit, running to the building and banging on the door as Garroth walked as quickly as possible as to not cause more discomfort.

The door swung open and there stood a person in a tunic and smithing gloves. It seemed like they were about to complain until they saw Garroth carrying Aphmau over to the building. Very quickly they opened the door wider and stood out the way for the four to enter. Laurance and Dante moved for Garroth to enter first with Aphmau, following and closing the door behind themselves.

The assumed blacksmith quickly cleared a long table, actually swiping their arms on the table and pushing everything off. Everything made a clang as it fell, but no one seemed to care as a pillow was placed at the head of the table for Aphmau, as she was placed on her side on the table.

Aphmau groaned in pain, clutching where the wound was and curling in on herself to try and alleviate the pain, to no avail.

"I'm (Y/N), no time for your names. I need you-" they pointed to Laurance "to go out and find me a stick, not too long or thick." And he ran outside, not questioning the orders.

"And I need you-" they pointed to Garroth "to put that metal brand in the fire for me" and Garroth followed their orders as well. Neither of them asked questions and quickly went to work.

Dante stood at the head of the table, gently patting Aphmau's head as he watched the commotion. Genuinely he was afraid as well, but he was a little better at containing it. Laurance came back in, practically slamming the door open with a stick in hand. He slammed the door closed and handed it over to them.

"Great! Now you two, get out" (Y/N) said while pointing over to a different door, that led to the other room. Garroth and Laurance looked at each other before raising their voices to object. The idea was quickly shut down as they yelled for the two to shut up. "The more people are in the room, the less likely it'll be for me to help her as easily", and that put them to silence and to the other room.

"Great, now you, what's your name?" They asked, turning to Dante with a smile.

"uh... Dante" He responded, lifting his hands away, ready to be ordered around.

"Nice to meet you Dante. I hope you don't mind blood, there is going to be a lot of it" They nodded, moving around the room a little as they spoke.

Quickly turning around they held up the stick and gently grabbed Aphmau's face. "Bite on this, it'll help" and so she did. Dante reached and grabbed onto Aphmau's hands, keeping her on her side that didn't have the arrow.

"you're good at this" pulling on their gloves to make sure they're on tight before grabbing the arrow. "Here comes the hard part."

They lightly pressed their hand onto Aphmau's stomach, raising the rip in her dress slightly for more room. "This is going to hurt, by the way" they said. Aph made a worried sound, but didn't have much time to complain as they quickly pulled the arrow out in one swift motion.

Aphmau bit down aggressively onto the stick as she screened in pain. Dante continued to hold Aphmau down as she thrashed around, the pain too much to handle for her but yet they persisted.

"Hard part over!" They smiled, holding up the completely intact arrow and inspecting it. Dante looked over at them with a confused face, still holding Aphmau down.

"And the easy part...?" Dante asked hesitantly, almost fearful to ask.

They walked over to the pit, fire encasing the entire thing, and grabbed the metal bar Garroth had placed in it. "Well..." They prolonged, holding up the metal bar, "We've gotta cauterize the wound- to stop the bleeding" They smiled over to him, "right?"

Dante watched in horror as they brought the metal bar down and placed it onto one entrance of the wound, causing Aphmau to screen even more- and Dante swore he heard the stick snap in half.

Suddenly, Aphmau stopped thrashing, practically dead weight in Dante's hold now. Seems she had passed out from the pain. There was still more to be done, as they had turned Aph a little forward to get the back of the wound and close it off too.

"Easy part done!" They dropped the metal bar on the ground, gently laying Aphmau onto her back to rest. Dante took this as his turn to go to Garroth and Laurance to let them know it all went fine.

When the three of them returned into the room, a pillow was placed under Aph's abdomen where the wound was and (Y/N) was wrapping bandages around her abdomen as well.

"Good news, she'll live! I think..." They muttered to themselves before setting the bandages off to the side. "She'll be out for awhile, a couple days or so. Shock and mass amounts of pain do that to people" they shrugged, not bothering to pay attention to the shocked faces on Laurance and Garroth.

"So..." They said, sitting down on a chair and taking off their now blood soaked gloves "Where do you all come from?"

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Febuwhump Day 13: "I Don’t Trust Anyone Else"

“Shell, you’re bleedin’ too fast! What’s the plan, Leo? Leo!” Raph’s hands tightened against his weeping thigh, a deep thrum of pain dragging him back to awareness. “C’mon, Fearless, talk to me!”

“My…sword,” he slurred at last, head lolling toward the blade and the flaming ruins of the nearby building. “The fire…The h-heat.”

“Wha—Cauterize it? Are ya crazy?! That’s Donnie’s job, that’s—!”

“…Don’s not here.”

“What if I do it wrong?! I don’t wanna hurt you!”

“M’already hurt. And you’re the…only one strong enough to hold me down. I t-trust you…No one I trust more.”

[whumpback-wail]

[nobodycanhavethisusername1]

Whump prompt- cauterize

Felix is once again taken away. Nervous anticipation hangs in the air between the four men left in the cell. Street turns to Hondo,

“This isn’t fair. What the hell did he do to deserve this?” Hondo shakes his head, anger simmering underneath his calm exterior. 

“He didn’t do anything. There’s nothing we can do but be there for him when he gets back.” Tan steps closer to Street, putting an arm on his shoulder,

“If it's one thing we've learned is that Felix is tough as nails, he’ll survive whatever they do to him.” Street sighs,

“I just wish he didn't have to.” He closes the gap between them, walking with Tan to do drills as a distraction. 

Felix sits in the metal chair, his breathing getting more uneven the longer the door remains shut. It's been easily fifteen minutes and yet the "doctor" is nowhere to be seen.

He can't hear anything, not even the guards that he knows are right outside the door. He wonders if this is part of the torture or if something has simply delayed it. Getting worked up before anything has even happened is illogical. He forces himself to breathe slower, determined to get his panic under control. Another five minutes pass before he hears voices in the hall to his right. The wide door swings open with a horrible screeching sound, grating on his nerves. He looks up and gasps, the doctor is not wearing his usual attire, no mask, no white coat, even usually slicked-back hair is in a state of disarray. The doctor's brown eyes glare at him as if he has already done something wrong. Felix bites his tongue, afraid that anything he says will be used against him in some way. The man turns to be directly in front of Felix, fully showing what he is holding in his right hand. Felix’s eyes widen at the object, a metal pipe that has been crudely cut in half, jagged sharp edges on one end. Fear flashes across his face as he looks up at his tormentor. The man says nothing, moving slowly until he is inches away from Felix's face. He whispers calmly, 

“You are an absolute pain in my ass.” Felix frowns but has no time to reply before the man moves faster than he can process. Cold sharp pain flares in his right side. He looks down, the pipe at least three inches in him, blood seeping around the edges. Air is forced from his lungs as he tries to breathe through the pain. He waits for the agony of it being ripped from him, but it doesn't come. The doctor takes a step back and admires his work. He nods affirmatively,

“They should be pleased with this.” Felix tries to understand the implications of the sentence but the pain in his side is growing, the foreign invasion sending his body into sensory overdrive. He wants to scream. The guards come, dark masks blurring in front of him as he tries to stay conscious. They move him roughly, ignoring his cries of protest as his side is jostled. Felix hears the buzzer and knows that the guards will drop him with no care about his side. The second they let go he turns his body, curling around the metal before it has a chance to impale him further. Hondo and Deacon are the first ones there, grabbing his shoulders and gently pulling his hands away from the pipe. Felix groans through clenched teeth, hissing in pain when someone moves his shirt. Tan winces as he sees the full extent of Felix’s injuries. Street moves quickly, sitting beside Felix and taking his left hand into his own. 

“Fucking hell.” Despite typically not approving such language Deacon nods in agreement, hands hovering tentatively above Felix. No one knows what to do. Felix coughs, blinking rapidly as tears threaten to fall. He grits his teeth,

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Hondo looks up, staring into the young face trying hard to keep composure. He almost makes a sarcastic quip about his feeling being a bit late but decides to humor him,

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” Felix smiles slightly, catching onto his tone. 

“Well, pretty sure y’all are about to get a first hand lesson in the extraction of foreign objects and sealing a gaping wound.” Street’s gaze snaps to Hondo, an edge of panic in his voice as he asks,

“We have nothing. No supplies, no water, we can't stop the bleeding, we can't clean it. What the hell do they expect us to do?” Hondo doesn't respond, his mind busy contemplating the different ways this could go. Deacon closes his eyes briefly, one hand on the silver cross that the guards somehow decided not to confiscate. Tan searches the room, as if some magical first aid kit is about to appear and solve some of their problems.

Felix coughs again, the movement pulling on his side and taking away his breath. Street squeezes his shoulder in silent support, worry creased into his features. Blood is sluggishly running down his side, soaking his black cargo pants. The room goes black as they are all plunged into darkness. No one moves, this hasn't happened before and no one wants to risk getting electrocuted. They hear the cell door swing open, closing with a bang not ten seconds later. The lights flicker back on, Hondo recovers first and gets up, moving to the cell door where a bag has been dropped inside the room. He immediately comes back over and begins rifling through the contents. He takes each item out, two bottles of water, a small square metal file, a blowtorch, a pair of pliers with rubber handles, some type of antiseptic cream, three washcloths, and a note. Felix turns his head  to the side and sees the items, dread settling in his stomach as he realizes what must happen. Hondo reads the note, anger flaring in his dark eyes, He goes to crumple it but Deacon's look of curiosity stops him. He hands it to Deacon, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Deacon finishes reading it, surprise crossing his face in disbelief. His voice is an octave higher,

“There’s no way. They can't be serious.”  Street’s impatience gets the better of him,

“What the hell does it say?” Deacon glances at Hondo before answering his question,

“It's a list of instructions on what to do.” Street tilts his head, gesturing for Deacon to elaborate. Hondo sighs, taking over for Deacon,

“They want us to remove it and then cauterize it. If we don’t, they will do the exact same thing to you and Tan.” Felix feels Street tense beside him, Tan’s voice interjects, his tone serious,.

“This could kill him.” Felix clears his throat, getting everyone’s attention,

“We don't have a choice. Leaving it in could cause sepsis and I die. Taking it out and not being able to stop bleeding means I die. Taking it out and cauterizing it could cause an infection and I could die. But more than likely they will save my life if it comes to that. They just want the most emotional and physical suffering.” He pauses, beads of sweat running down his forehead. 

“No one else needs to get hurt.” He stares at Hondo, pleading with him to see the logic in it. For once, Hondo looks away, his eyes refusing to meet Felix’s. Deacon opens his mouth to say something but hesitates when he sees Street's face. Felix looks around the room and realizes no one is understanding how serious he is. He gives no warning, pushing himself up with his right hand.

“Nnghh, fine, I’ll fucking do it myself.” He moves as if to grab the pipe when the room erupts in horrified shouts. He freezes, centimeters away from the cold metal, Hondo’s hand is tightly latched around his wrist. 

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Felix pants, eyes filled with pain and desperation,

“No one else gets hurt, you have to promise me.” Hondo stares at him, resignation slowly creeping into his expression. He nods, letting go of Felix’s wrist,

“Fine, no one else gets hurt. I promise.” Street supports Felix, helping him lay back down. Hondo looks over at Deacon, a grim expression mirroring his own. Theo can sense the change in both of them, Hondo begins to issue commands,

“Alright, Tan and Street, both of you will be responsible for holding him down. Deacon, you will heat the metal, I will take out the pipe and flush it with water as best as I can. Then we will try to cauterize it in one go.” His command is met with reluctant nods, Tan moving slowly to Felix's legs. Street repositions himself, Felix’s head is now propped against his chest, Street wrapping him in what looks like a bear hug from behind. The hiss of the blowtorch being turned on makes Felix's stomach do somersaults. Pressure increases on his legs as Tan uses his body weight to anchor him. Hondo opens the water bottles and inspects them. He then takes one of the washcloths and rolls it up before approaching Felix. 

“You said that the volume can only get to a certain decibel right?” Felix nods, understanding dawning in his hazel eyes. A flicker of regret shows on his face before he manages to hide it. He holds it in front Felix, who only slightly hesitates before biting down on it. Hondo glances over at Deacon,

“Where are we at Deac?” Street’s breath hitches as he looks at what Deacon has been doing. The small square piece of metal now glowing bright like an ember. Deacon’s voice is quiet, Felix straining to what what he says,

“Ready when you are.” Felix’s lungs constrict but he refuses to panic, taking deep measured breaths as he avoids thinking about anything going on around him. Hondo works efficiently, ripping Felix's shirt in one swift movement, Felix tenses, shrinking away from Hondo. Street’s arms tighten around him, securely keeping him in place but also giving him something to ground himself to. Hondo gestures for Deacon to come over, He stops briefly, getting Felix’s attention,

“Take deep breaths, it's okay, we’ve got you. You will probably pass out, that's fine, don't fight it. Just hang in there okay? we’ll be as quick as possible.” Felix nods, closing his eyes and leaning his head back into Street’s shoulder. Hondo turns and makes eye contact with Tan, giving a small nod of support. He then looks back at Street, feeling a pang of sympathy at the mix of emotions crossing his face. He takes a deep breath, encouraging Street to do the same.

He pours some of the precious water on his hands before grabbing the pipe, Felix moans, fingers digging into Street’s arms. In one careful movement Hondo pulls the pipe out, a horrible squelching sound echoing through the room. Felix screams into the washcloth, back arching off the ground as he tries to escape the pain. Hondo works quickly, pouring water into the gaping wound. Felix’s muffled sobs threaten to break his resolve but he continues on, he uses one of the washcloths and wipes away the blood and water as much as he can before moving out of the way for Deacon.

He helps Street and Tan, shifting to be able to hold down Felix’s hips, silently begging for the young officer to pass out. Deacon doesn't give himself time to think about what he is doing before putting the burning metal down on the jagged bleeding hole on Felix’s side. The smell of burning flesh fills the room, Street involuntarily gagging. Deacon’s eyes water but he keeps the piece of metal pressed down, Felix writhes beneath his touch, the only thing he knows is agony. Tan underestimates Felix's strength, getting momentarily thrown off as Felix digs his heels into the cement floor, trying desperately to escape the pain ravaging his body. Street knows Felix can't hear him but he whispers words of comfort anyway,

“I’ve got you. It's okay, you’re going to be okay.” 

“Hang in there buddy, just a little bit longer.” 

“Take it easy, easy bud, easy.”

Felix feels like someone is ripping out his insides and setting them on fire. It consumes him, excruciating pain filling every part of him. He can't hear anything over the sound of his own screams. His vision goes white. He doesn't know how long it takes before the pain begins to lessen, his screams slowing to broken sobs. Someone takes the washcloth out his mouth and he can’t stop himself from pleading, throat raw and raspy as he begs,

“I’m sorry, I'm so sorry, please stop.” Hondo grabs his face, gently holding his head up,

“Felix, it's over, we're done Felix. It's all over.” Felix dares to open his eyes, unable to hide the fear he feels as he sees Hondo and Deacon in front of him. He whimpers pitifully,

“You- you promise?” Deacon’s heart constricts painfully at the broken words, the man in front of him all of a sudden looking more young than ever before. Hondo runs a hand through Felix’s sweaty blond curls, giving him a brave smile,

“I promise. You did so good Felix. You can rest now.” Felix manages to nod, tears still streaming down his face. He slowly untenses, his body starting to go slack as he mumbles,

“mm sorry, thank you.” His eyelids flutter before finally closing, unconsciousness taking his weary body. The room collectively lets out a sigh, the steady facades falling fast. Tan gags again, his face a hint green as he tries to keep his breakfast from reappearing. Street refuses to move from the ground, arms still protectively wrapped around Felix. Deacon and Hondo work in silence, putting all the items back into the bag. Deacon cringes as he places the metal pipe into the bag, slick with Felix’s blood. He doesn't even want to contemplate how this has traumatized every person in the room. Nothing else can be done, now they just have to wait for Felix to wake up.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

GIVE US A WIP SNIPPET YOU ARE PROUD OF!!

I mean... I guess I could...

CW: Amputation, religious homophobia, religious fanatics, horror

-

The Singer herself leaned down, to look him right in the eyes. She held him by the chin, forcing him to look at her. “I will forgive that. Fear is powerful, and sometimes we make mistakes in the grip of fear. We will agree that it is natural to fear for your life, when you have sinned so greatly against your goddess.”

            Aidan screamed, wordlessly, as loudly as he could, right into her face. She didn't even flinch. She barely even blinked. Aidan's own vision blurred with tears.

            “I understand,” She said, softly. Her voice oozed with delight and she could barely keep the smile off her face. She reached out and took his left forearm in her hand. “Your price will be paid with blood as well,” She said, this time projecting for the crowd. “Aidan Garnes, you have used your right hand to sin against the Mother of the Rock by seeking carnal pleasure with another man. In penance for this perversion, we will remove your left.”

            Aidan’s vision, his entire existence, suddenly became centered in the fingers on his left hand. He had never seen his fingernails, with dirt underneath them, in such detail. He’d never realized how long his fingers were, never even really thought about his hands beyond their usefulness. He let out a muffled groan behind the gag.

            “Pay the price," The Singer said, almost gently. "You have already lost your family, given them up for the sake of momentary pleasures and the sickness in your heart. Now... you will go into punishment for the time it takes you to recover. Return to us an outcast, and live your days alone knowing that your perversion will be visible to anyone who sees you. You will be given a new name. You will never speak to your former family again. You will live among us in shadow.” She looked back up at the crowd, pitching her voice higher, effortlessly projecting. “As the Mother herself ordered written, those who seek unnatural carnal knowledge will make all of Morlofte unclean! As it is written, the price to purify us is the blood of the criminal!”

            “He pays in blood! It is as written!" After a moment, the crowd began to repeat it, over and over, it is as written, until they were pressing forward, jostling to be at the front of the crowd. Their words ran together as Aidan stared at his hand.

            The Singer leaned down and gently closed his fingers into a fist. It didn’t even occur to him to do anything but obey her, even though he shuddered at her touch. Then, she laid his arm down, with the inside of his wrist facing up, on the wooden block. Aidan’s breath came faster and faster, dark spots dancing at the corner of his vision, threatening to grow into blindness. The third guard stepped in to hold it down and she pulled back and away. 

One of the original two guards handed the Singer an axe.

            “It is my solemn duty to mete out the sentence declared by order of the Mother Herself. I weep for you,” The Singer said, smiling so broadly he could have counted each and every one of her teeth. The fire danced and sparkled in her eyes, making them something more than human. Something less.

            She swung the axe up, holding it for a moment that seemed to last an eternity. Aidan heard a scream, as if from very far away, and realized belatedly he was the one screaming.

“My people belong to me,” The Singer whispered. "Only me. Always... me. You belong to me."

The pendant of the Mother’s Hand over his chest suddenly burned like a brand.

She brought the axe down so hard it stuck into the wood and she could not pull it free again.

There was a hush of one second, two seconds, three-

            Aidan’s eyes suddenly bulged. His scream became a high-pitched, animalistic thing. He thrashed helplessly but the guards held him fast. Blood poured from the wound, the hideous open flesh and bone that had been a secret to him all his life, now laid horribly bare for all to see. The crowd stared, suddenly wide-eyed and silent, children beginning to wail in earnest. Their mothers held them tight, but still no one turned away. No one wanted the Singer to notice them unable to bear the sight.

            Lars stood right at the front of them all, just off to the side. His jaw was set, something like determination in his expression. He had not flinched when the axe came down. Aidan saw nothing there, in his expression, but he knew too well the fire in front of him didn't burn half so hot as the fire inside Lars now.

            The Singer leaned down and picked up Aidan’s left hand, fingers still curled tightly into a fist. As though the hand that had been attached to his left wrist just seconds ago was a strange and disturbing toy. One finger twitched, and Aidan could have sworn he felt the movement.

One of the guards pulled something from the fire, metal bright red in color laced with orange, and Aidan stared, jerking back a moment too late.

The flat, hot metal pressed to his wound. Aidan felt only a moment of agony before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed forward in a heap.

The Singer quirked a smile down at him, then tossed the hand lightly into the fire to burn.