#dic sidetracked

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Sending a few tools for Whittaker to use!

Second one is the....pear. I can't remember the full name. Used in mouths to break jaws. And then wouldn't it be fitting if Burke lost a knee?

Tag: @pepperonyscience

Warning for description of broken bones and mouth/jaw gore.

"Are you aware of what this is?" Whittaker asked, even though they both knew that the metal gag in Burke's mouth prevented him from answering. "Don't be shy, lad. Give it your best guess."

With his eyes alone, he tried to scream and rant about how utterly and completely deranged Whittaker had become, but the blurriness of tears had him fearing that he missed the mark and diverted straight into terrified obedience.

Whittaker turned the device over in his hands, examining it from different angles and watching the mechanisms and gears shift and adjust with the slightest motion. He barely offered a second glance to Burke. "I wonder who was the first person to try this out. Did they get their fist stuck in their mouth and realize that the jaw couldn't unhinge enough back over the intrusion? Or some brilliant inspiration struck a doctor or man of science?"

Burke didn't know. He only knew the trembling sensation of his fear in his chest and how it grew stronger with every step closer Whittaker took. The metal glinted, promising torture, for that was what the damn thing was made for. Both the pear of anguish, and Burke.

"Or perhaps, someone with time on their hands, and a whole slew of prisoners to test on."

He sobbed around the metal as Whittaker cupped the back of his head and sobbed again, free of the gag, as it was released. He didn't want to feel his jaw unhinge and break, tendons snapping, bones cracking. It wouldn't even be quick, like a blow to the jaw, but a slow agony that ended only when Whittaker wanted it to. "Don't," Burke begged, tears in his eyes. "Don't do this, please don’t do this-"

He did. Multiple times.

His jaw ached for days.

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Pear. Just pear.

@pepperonyscience requested on a Whittaker Wednesday that Whittaker use the pear of anguish on Asher.

"Are you aware of what this is?" Whittaker asked, even though they both knew that the metal gag in Burke's mouth prevented him from answering. "Don't be shy. Give it your best guess."

With his eyes alone, he tried to scream and rant about how utterly and completely deranged Whittaker had become, but the blurriness of tears had him fearing that he missed the mark and diverted straight into terrified obedience.

[stab-the-son-of-a]

For Whittaker and Gale, do they have any weather fhat scares them? What about ones they love?

This ask game.

Gale used to love the snow. Heavy, thick flakes drifting down and catching on branches and eyelashes, or a chaotic maelstrom of tiny, fine powder raining down, or snow drifting against the sides of houses, burying yard ornaments, whipped up by the wind only to return to a new resting place. They loved to sit by the window and watch it come down, frost creeping up on the pane of glass or melting just at the point of impact.

They used to play in the snow with their sister's children more often, even tossing them into the banks, or indulging in snowball fights.

Now, they watch the gray clouds with dread in their chest and pain in their bones. Gale rubs at their leg, seizing, locked up muscles agonizing, trying to soothe the pain in their bones and tendons from the outside. For now, they stay indoors, sitting by the fireplace and nursing a cup of medicated tea, while their sister's children play outdoors without them.

Whittaker hates the rain. It drenches him and leaves him feeling like little more than a drowned rat. He's always particularly ornery when it's been raining, running a hand through his hair to keep the wet strands from sticking to his face and particularly vicious with anyone who crosses his path. Warm rain is less intolerable than cold rain, but still bitterly hated. Truly, the only weather Whittaker can find no fault in, is a moderate, slightly breezy day, with the sun at the precise angle where the shade is refreshingly cool and the ground gently warmed, and the sun doesn't get into his eyes.

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Whittaker Wednesday #3

Inbox is OPEN.

Relevant tags: #Whittaker Wednesday, #DIC Sidetracked

Feel free to send in prompts, tools, ideas for commands.

Apologies for missing the last one.

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Whittaker Wednesday #2

Inbox is OPEN.

Relevant tags: #Whittaker Wednesday, #DIC Sidetracked

Feel free to send in prompts, tools, ideas for commands.

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Whittaker Wednesday #1

Inbox is OPEN.

Relevant tags: #Whittaker Wednesday, #DIC Sidetracked

Feel free to send in prompts, tools, ideas for commands.