#bltz loves ribs

[bltzgore]

I doth drabble...

Background info:

Whumpee is being held at the base of a group of whumpers (maybe for interrogation, or ransom, or maybe just entertainm). There is this sort of arena where some of the whumpers like to take turns beating whumpee in the cement floor. This scene comes on the tail end of one of those beatings.

Tw: broken bones (specifically ribs), collapses lungs, blood in the lungs, bruising, strong language, mentions of sci-fi augments, pain relief drugs

Laying on their stomach was brutal. Whumpee wasn't sure they still had a fully intact rib left in their torso. But they were exhausted. This round had only gone three hours, not the shortest, but hardly the longest they'd suffered through.

This didn't change how horrendously the position they were laying in made their entire chest burn, and their lungs practically spasm with the strain.

They needed to move. They needed to breath properly.

So, Whumpee began to arrange their hands against the ground, well, one of their hands. Their left shoulder had stopped working right since the particularly vicious handling whumpee had received about an hour and a half into this session.

Still, they worked against the shaking of their right arm and pressed up. Slowly, they shifted the weight off their abused chest cavity and were rewarded with a fuller breath.

Whumpee was figuring out which way to let themselves back down when there was a sudden pressure on their back that dissuped the careful architecture of their current position.

Whumpee crashed back onto their stomach. The second they made contact with the floor, their world went black. Their mouth gaped in a scream, but their lungs were on fire. Nothing left their mouth but a strained wheeze like sob.

The world pieced itself back together in patches, their vision crept back at a snails pace, as they tried to handle the shock and the lack of oxygen.

The pressure, which had now been identified as Whumpers foot, pressed down harder, making whumpee gasp and immediately regret it, siezing up with rabid heavy tears. The less oxygen their body got the more it struggled, forcing whumpee to squirm and aggravate almost all their existing injuries in the process.

Whumper grinned, "That's right, you fuckin' worm." They dug the toe of their boot into whumpee's back.

Whumpee's spine arched, and their face contorted. They felt their ribs scraping together and displacing, stabing new holes into their lungs, crushing into everything they were supposed to protect.

"Can't even scream." Whumper laughed, deep and satisfied, "how pathetic can you get?"

Whumpee's vision was fraying at the edges, pain lighting up every corner of their body as they writhed under the pressure. Whumper was right, they were a worm.

Whumper removed their boot and let whumpee breathe, unconscious creatures were no fun.

Whumpee tried to breathe in. They tried so hard, but they couldn't breathe deep enough to get their vision to clear. They could at least stay awake though. That was something, right?

Tears ran down whumpee's face without permission, whumper sneered, and pulled whumpee's head up by their hair. "Damn, you look awful. With that many broken bones, maybe it'd be more humane to put you down." They laughed at their own joke, "You want that little worm? Want me to make it all stop?"

Whumpee blinked heavily as their view of whumper cycled through degrees of blur. They weren't sure they wanted to hear themselves answer that question.

Whumper had opened their mouth to continue when from across the room-

"Hey! The hell are you doing? The boss said 'e needs 'em alive, dumbass."

Whumper dropped their grip on whumpee's hair and stood, turning to go address the source of the voice. "I wasn't actually gonna do it, caretaker."

"The hell you weren't." They muttered, then more directly, "You're time is up anyway, get the fuck out you freak."

Whumper sighed, "Yeah yeah." And started off. "Patch 'em up better this time, maybe then they won't break so easy." Heading out through the door.

Caretaker growled something more obscene than usual and climbed up onto the arena floor. They knelt next to whumpee, who was trying to move again, lacking the lung capacity to cry properly.

Caretaker set the makeshift medical kit down and gently drew whumpee off the floor, taking the weight mercifully off their torso. They shifted how they were sitting just enough to lean whumpee's back against their chest to keep the weight pressing against bones that weren't as damaged.

They could feel all of the small movements whumpee's muscles were making in their failing attempts to protect themselves. All of the light twitching of muscle that had been pushed to their brink. They could feel whumpee trying to breathe. Stuttering, wheezing, shaking.

With the gentle treatment, whumpee's body had a free moment to remember the fluid building up in their lungs. Whumpee tried to cough, and it was hell. A spray of red on the cement floor and their world went white. Their sobbing picked up enough to just be heard over the wheezing. But their body didn't take the hint, it just wanted to expel the collecting blood.

"I know, kid, I know." Caretaker soothed, holding them up with one arm and rooting through their medical supplies with the free hand. It stopped on the cool glass of the syringe and brought it out. Caretaker closed their teeth on the cap and tugged it off. "This'll help, just hold on for me." They forced the needle into whumpee's arm and pressed down the plunger, sending the clear liquid in, to work its magic.

As it took effect caretaker layed them back on the floor for assessment.

A gentle warmth slowly traveled through whumpee, pooling in places where the pain was heaviest, and making it hard to think. That was ok with whumpee though, they didn't want to think anymore. Not about the agony, not about the hopelessness, not about how they had almost said yes to whumper.

Whumpee felt a hand on their cheek, thumb carefully brushing away a new tear. They leaned into it, and whimpered. The only soft touch in weeks. "Evrything h-hurts." They whispered.

Caretaker felt their heart clench, but they kept it out of their voice, "I know, kid. I'm gonna fix it."

Caretaker started by investigating what was clearly going to be the biggest problem. The ribs. So they carefully drew up whumpee's shirt. Holy shit. What had whumper been thinking?!

Whumpee's skin was a galaxy of black and blue, with sick undertones of yellow and un-oxygenated red. When their chest rose it rose wrong, there were inconsistencies... dents, in the usual contours of the ribcage, and places that reshuffled themselves as they moved.

For a moment, Caretaker was paralyzed. This was such a mess. They weren't even sure how many ribs could be saved. They were going to have to open up and replace, and they barely even knew how to- caretaker shut down the spiral. They needed to think clearly... as clearly as they could.

First, the things they knew they could do. Drain the blood from the lungs and the air from the chest cavity. Then, they could worry about reconstruction. Because that's what this was going to require, if whumpee was going to live, much less live through another one of the doubtlessly impending beatings whumper or whumper 2 was going to give them the moment caretaker stepped away they needed to open-

Caretaker caught the spiral again, focusing back on their breathing, slowing it.

"It's bad-" They stopped for a few half breaths, blinking slowly, and looking up through half lidded eyes, "isn't it?"

Caretaker looked down at whumpee. They hadn't realized it had shown. They hadn't meant to let it slip. But they wouldn't lie, "Yeah, whumpee. It's bad."

"Am I- g-gonna?" They couldn't say it.

"No." Caretaker was sure this time, "Not if I can help it."

"I-its gonna h-urt though, i-isn't it?"

"Yes."

[bltzgore]

God I also have a thing for rib whump. Torso whump in general is always my favorite but ribs in particular are always so good.

The hollow thud when a punch lands just right. Really pretty bruises stretched over a long lanky rib cage. The perfect place for hidden injury. Whumpee's arm wrapped around their ribcage as they try to push through the pain. Caretaker's hand shaking as it hovers over the vivid bruises on whumpee's prominent ribs. Tears fill caretakers eyes and they want so badly to comfort whumpee. they can't stop themselves from letting their finger tips skim over the bruised bones. They let out a horrified gasp of guilt when whumpee grunts in pain, doubling over.

GOOD

SHIT!!!!!

Broken ribs just make a whumpee so vulnerable to so many things! Like being literally under whumper's heel, laughing too hard, thinking if they just wait it out they'll be fine.

Since you've covered the comfort angle, allow me to offer a hurt angle 😈

Just focusing on the mental image of whumper holding a few fingers against whumpee's broken rib. Whumper just slowly digs their fingers in, pressing the broken bone deeper and deeper, whumpee tries so hard to keep from making a sound. Their jaw is burning with the tension from grinding their teeth, tears slipping down from their eyes. Then the rib finally hits the lung, whumpee is suddenly so winded they can't manage to scream even when they try.

[bltzgore]

Alright, alright, so I have a thing about ribs. Usually, I love breaking them, but join me on a journey as my brain reminds me I once read: "pry out ribs with a crowbar" (or something of the like).

Tw: GORE and i cannot stress that enough, stabbing, blood, broken bone, invasive intimate touch on the torso (nonsexual), breathing trouble.

What we have to start with here is a motive. Why are we prying this rib out? Are we sending a message? Are we trying to leave whumpee with the most painful death we can manage on hand? Are we taking a trophy back to the big boss and leaving whumpee to die? -Oooooh yes, that one.-

Next is the technical process, cause removing a rib can be done safely, but we're not doing that. This is just a mess of gore (but that's on brand for me) you could cut back the skin first to get a better look at it, pick which one you want. Or you could just go for it and see what happens. -Let's wing it!-

Always remember to pick a healthy amount of complications, collapsed lung is one of my personal recommendations.

I think a wretched, trashed, back alley is the best backdrop for such a situation, time to paint the picture:

It was the height of summer. Everything was slick with sweat or damp through with the humidity. It made the fight that much harder and allowed whumper to put whumpee on their back that much quicker. The thing keeping them there was the stab wound. Whumper had driven their knife right into the flesh of whumpee's leg. Then they had pulled up.

Whumpee had also taken a serious hit to the head, so they were having a hard time telling up from down. So they laid there, watching the figure over them move and discuss just how much they were going to make off this hit. None of it was really processing, with the concussion and blood loss.

Whumper stopped talking and something seemed to have changed. They were looking at whumpee again. No. Not just at whumpee. A specific part of whumpee. Whumper was studying whumpee's torso.

Whumper knelt down and drew up whumpee's shirt. Whumpee made a move to fight back but whumper pinned them too quick and with too much strength, even with just one arm.

Whumper traced their fingers across whumpee's ribs, bringing goosebumps to whumpee's skin. Whumper stopped on one, tapped it, then pressed hard into the gap just below it.

Whumpee winced and breathed out, with no choice other than taking it in stride.

"I like this one." Whumper decided. Their words slowly slithering into whumpee's poor fogged brain.

Whumper moved off, withdrawing a few steps and bending down to grab something.

Had whumpee been more aware they would have tried to run, to move, to crawl away. Too little, too late. Whumper returned and stepped on their chest, roughly forcing the air out of it. Whumpee was rattled but the fear didn't double down until they managed to focus their eyes on the thing whumper was holding.

A crowbar?

That was the last coherent thought whumpee managed before something split their brain in two. The teeth of the crowbar broke the skin, and whumpee screamed. There was no break from the pain, no moment to catch their breath as the red invaded their vision, forced their exhausted body to thrash, and their vocabulary shrink to the most deperate words they knew.

Whumper doubled down. They jammed their tool to the side until they felt it hit the bone. They grinned as they wrentched a hole into a living breathing creature, "There it is." And jammed down on the bar, adding more and more force until the bone crunched.

Whumper didn't get the whole rib, but they were certain it would be enough, as they tore through the skin to get at it. They took their prize and stood, giving whumpee one last look.

Whumpee's torso was a mess of blood that almost distracted from the hole that looked like torn cardboard, gaping and gaging blood all down whumpee's sides.

Whumpee was not as still as they should have been, gasping like a dying fish. But whumper solved that mystery rather quickly.

"I must have hit your lung. Ruptured chest wall and all that makes it pretty hard to breathe, doesn't it?" They grinned, then examined their gleaming, bloody prize. "Thanks for your cooperation. Die well." Then turned on their heels and vanished into the gathering storm.

Whumpee's body was in ruins, all that was left was for their exhaustion to put them out. It was all they had left to hope for.

The alternative, die of blood loss.

And maybe caretaker will show up if you really want them too...

Bye!