Hi hereâs Zander Falls Off A Fucking Roof but also A Little Bit More To It
CW: Dislocated shoulder, discussion of past injuriesÂ
***
 Time passed, he settled into his home, into his freedom. There was still some adjusting to be done, but he felt more himself these days, more comfortable venturing outside of his room. He was almost eager to be helpful around the house, a habit from when he was younger, and as the season changed and his moms began pulling out the Christmas decorations, he volunteered to be as helpful as he could be.
 Thatâs how he ended up on the roof of his house, string of lights in hand. It wasnât a particularly difficult task, and heâd rather be up there than have either of his moms trying to do it, but it was cold out, snow covering the ground and parts of the roof, and he couldnât wait to be done and get back inside. Right now he was very envious of Wren who had also come to help, but was currently on the ground with his mom, mug of hot chocolate in hand.Â
 âMove them just a little to the left, please!â His mom called, and he was quick to do as she said, easily finding the nail sticking out from the wood from years past and twisting the string around it, finally securing the last of the lights. He stood up from where he was crouched down, feeling somewhat proud of himself for getting something done. He tried to savor that feeling for the time being, heâd found he had a hard time feeling like that lately.Â
 âBe careful getting down from there!â Wren said as he made his way across the roof, towards the ladder propped up against the edge of the roof.Â
 âYeah, I will!â He called back. He intended to be careful, anyway, but one misplaced step had him stepping on a more slippery part of the roof he hadnât quite noticed, his foot sliding out from under him. His back hit the edge of the roof hard, but that was nothing compared to the pain he felt when he slipped off and onto the ground. While he was lucky the snow broke his fall somewhat, he landed in an awkward position, and from the intense pain in his shoulder he just knew heâd dislocated it again.Â
 His mom and Wren were quick to get over to him, trying to help him get up. He was surprised he was able to stand, but the pain in his shoulder was constant, it was too much for him to ignore and he kept his eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed by the pain as they helped him inside. He tried to get his jacket off but it just worsened the pain, he collapsed onto the couch as his mother fussed over him.Â
 âItâs fine, itâs fine, itâs fine.â He said over and over again, almost as if trying to convince himself. âItâs fine, itâs happened before.â He said.
 âWhat do you mean itâs happened before?!â His mom cried.
 âI saw it happen once.â Wren added, which seemed to just upset her more.Â
 âItâs fine, this just, it happens.â Zander said, talking more to distract himself. âSometimes- Sometimes my shoulder just dislocates- actually last time it was the other shoulder, but itâs just, itâs fine, it could be worse, I mean- the broken hand hurt more actually-â
 âWhen did you break your hand?!â She asked.
 âZander, you should probably stop talking.â Wren warned him.
 âIf I stop talking then itâll really hurt- why do you think I kept yelling at Cain last time?â
 âI thought you just liked yelling at Cain.â
 âI did! But itâs much better when my shoulder is where it fucking belongs!âÂ
 âDan-Zander!â His mom sounded exasperated. âLook- Weâre going to the hospital, come on.â She told him, getting him to stand back up. âAnd once weâre back- I want to know about these injuries youâve been hiding.â She said seriously, and he couldnât help but think heâd rather dislocate the other shoulder than do that.
 ***
 âThe last time I dislocated my shoulder was a couple months ago, and it had happened once before that too- thatâs just this year though.âÂ
 âAnd your hand?â His mom asked.
 âThat happened a long time ago, I mean, it still hurts sometimes but it was taken care of.â He said, trying to make it sound a lot better than it did.
 âAnd what about your ear, you think I didnât notice it was torn?â She said, her voice cracking, and as he realized how upset she was he couldnât help but feel guilty.Â
 âA Uh⌠an earring got ripped outâŚâ He said slowly. âBut again- that one was a long time ago, Iâm- Iâm fine now.â He insisted.
 âYouâre not fine!â She said, something heâd been told more than once before. âHow often did these things happen?! Were you even properly taken care of- you shouldâve been seeing doctors since you got back!â She groaned, anxiously pacing in front of him. He looked at Wren for help but he just glanced away, Zander knew he likely agreed with her.
 âMom, Iâm okay, really.â He said gently. He wasnât exactly eager to tell her about the constant back pain, and he certainly didnât want to tell her about the scar on his leg, in fact, he didnât intend to unless he absolutely had to. âYou donât need to worryâŚâ
 âClearly I do! You- you shouldnât hide all this from us, we want to help you but we canât if you donât tell us anything is wrong!â She said. She seemed frustrated but he could tell she was just worried, and he hated to worry her. He couldnât help but feel more and more guilty, a sick feeling in his stomach as he avoided looking at her.
 If he were to be honest, heâd tell her he was in constant pain, every day. Heâd tell her exactly how many times he remembered having dislocated shoulders and broken bones. Heâd tell her about the scars across his back that ached constantly, heâd tell her about the scar on his leg that made it hard to get up at times. Heâd tell her that heâd suffered inhuman treatment and brutal torture and he just couldnât do that. He loved both his moms, so much, he felt awful for keeping things from them but he knew it was for the best, because the thought of worrying them was so much worse than the thought of keeping his pain to himself.
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A whumpee desperately trying to break a door down, only it's not as if they just casually carry an axe around with them and since they have nothing else to assist them, they just repeatedly throw their entire body against it, accidentally dislocating a shoulder in the process
Bonus points if they canât get through no matter how hard they try and someone they love is dying on the other side.
a non-canon continuation of this amazing drabble by @clockworknightmares! crow/eerin is their oc, not mine.
Eerin didnât recognize him. This is his chance.
Nick grins, excited. He can hurt Crow and then wipe his memory, and help him, ease the pain, rescue him. He can have both.
He presses down on that shoulder again, harder. Shoves down on it until the joint thatâs already dislocated grinds further out of place, and Crowâs face is sickly pale from the agony. That handsome face is twisted into a glorious silent scream.
Itâs difficult maneuvering the boxed shifter, but he manages to make that other shoulder accessible and shove down on it too, press in on it with his fingers. Heâs pushing so hard that heâs wedging Eerin deeper into the box, getting him stuck worse. The boxed boy is gasping weakly in growing panic.
âHmm, you know, I think Iâll leave you in there for a while. Iâm not quite in the mood to break bones right now.â Voice nearly trembling with excitement, the Hunter puts his hands on Crowâs head and shoves it down, wedging it back into the box and closing the lid. The nails are slammed back down into the wood with a spell and, there, heâs got a boxed Eerin, ready to be hurt whenever he feels like it.
Heâs got to prepare the cellar. This one is special.
Three hours later, the Hunter stops wasting time and returns to the crate by his front door. He kicks the side of it, jarring the one trapped inside. Crow canât make a sound, canât speak. Maybe heâs crying in there. Oh, Nick canât wait to make him sob.
He pries the lid off the crate and looks down on the folded young man. His fingertips trace over tightly-wound, spasming muscles. Eerin was made for this, he is absolutely beautiful when heâs in agony.
The Hunter takes his prize by the shoulders and hauls him out, bundling the poor starved thing up in his arms. For a second, as he holds Crow, he fantasizes about being gentle, comforting him, soothing his aches. But Eerin doesnât remember him. Apparently, all the times he helped his friend werenât memorable. So Nick wants to hurt him, hurt him bad, before erasing it and starting over.
He carries Crow down into the cellar, unable to be anything other than gentle on the way down. This is his friend, after all, and permanent damage is not the goal. No tossing him down the stairs to see how many of his bones will break.
Nick drops Crow to the floor and follows, pinning him. The need to control, to crush, is strong right now. First of all, if Eerin can form coherent thoughts, can grow resigned or judge or check out mentally, then the Hunter needs to prevent that straight off. He grabs one of Crowâs arms and twists it up behind his back until the shoulder creaks in warning; iâs already been dislocated, but it can still break.
âYou canât scream,â Nick says, leaning down, anger in his voice. It is an annoying fact, after all. âYou canât speak. But you can lose your breath, and twist, and cry. So, right now, Iâm going to make you do those things. You look sweet enough crying that it just might make up for the silence.â
He twists that arm until something in it snaps - he doesnât care what. Is Crow crying yet? Itâs not enough pain. More pain, he can do. Nick kneels heavily on the back of Crowâs ribcage, ready to let his weight do half the work.
One spell, and one of those ribs cracks. Then another. They wonât buckle in, wonât puncture a lung, but it must hurt tremendously. It must be scary. It must be difficult to breathe.
But itâs not enough.
Nick flips Eerin over and straddles him once more. Now, he can see the tears. Now, he can better hear the hitching breaths. He places his hands at Crowâs hips and, with a blast of magic, dislocates them simultaneously.
Eerin erupts into a silent, stunning display of pain. His back arches up off the floor; his eyes go glassy and glitter with tears; his mouth stretches wide, his chest is paralyzed around a breath he canât force out, his head tips back against the floor.
Nick keeps him from passing out with sated, winding magic slipping into his head, just so he can take all the time he wants putting slow, heavy pressure on those hips. He watches Eerin sob madly, soundlessly, cheeks soaked with tears and mouth forming pleas desperately.
Nick spends the whole afternoon breaking Crow, dislocating and twisting and crushing things, watching him closely for every reaction. He heals the worst of it as he goes so he can fix it all later. So he can see Crow cry in relief and lean close and communicate fondly in his mind that Nick is his friend, he trusts Nick, and he feels safe here. Comfortable. Nick can have both.
What happens when you (or someone else) loses their team? How do you get them back?
Good question!
Where Iâm learning we always have a snowmobile as back up. The two times Iâve lost my team theyâve been tackled by my backup, or caught by the team in front.
The trail is also a big loop and the dogs usually run the same course so most of them just stop at the end out of habit.
If you donât have back up you just prepare yourself for a long walk and hopefully your team gets caught up somewhere without major issues. (This could be your sled getting caught, your snow hook getting caught, your dogs getting tangled, or a random person catching your team)
While being dragged can be hella painful, itâs highly suggested that you donât let go.
Play Button (though I know he won't need it): Cain, I want you to put the dogs - both into a stress position. It can be the same position for both, or a different one for each. I don't care. I want you to gag them - but make sure they can see each other - and then leave them for a few hours.
Pepperony Iâm so sorry this has just been sitting in my inbox but I swear I didnât forget, itâs just. A funky command ask turned into a drabble I have nothing to say for myself, thereâs words and suffering.
(lemme know if I missed ya or if youâd like to be added!)
CW: Stress positions, muzzles, shoulder whump, brief mention of asphyxiation, Zanderâs constant swearing, probably medical inaccuracies on how this works but yeah, no comf just whump
***
 Wrenâs eyes burned as they filled with tears, blurring the unfortunate sight in front of him. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, he tried to think of anything except for the pain he was in.
 His wrists had been cuffed behind him, which was bearable, but of course it couldnât end there. Cain had pulled his arms back, further and further until he was whimpering in pain, and thatâs when they were chained to the wall. The chain was short, he couldnât lean forward very much, but that wouldnât have helped much anyway. The strain on his shoulders was nearly unbearable, he wouldâve given anything to be relieved of that pain.
 What was worse though was Zander, directly across the room from him, bound in an identical position. Cain had been particularly rough with him, yanking his arms back harshly, slapping him when he complained about the position- before theyâd both been muzzled that is. He hated that, hated that they couldnât even verbally comfort one another, forced to endure this agony in a silence only interrupted by muffled swearing and pathetic whimpers.Â
 He didnât think it was a punishment- normally Cain made it clear when it was, and because he left once they were in position Wren didnât think it was done out of boredom either. It made him all the more frustrated that he didnât know why this was happening, couldnât even ask Zander what he thought about it. He wasnât sure Zander wouldâve been able to answer anyways, he seemed to be handling the strain worse than Wren was, which was⌠unnerving, to say the least. Wren was used to Zander being so stoic all the time, holding out even through pain until he just couldnât anymore, but it seemed like he couldnât handle this from the start. He kept his eyes screwed shut, and even though anything he said was muffled by the muzzle, Wren just knew he was swearing and yelling nonstop.Â
 He shifted uncomfortably in his own restraints, trying to find a position that would lessen the pain even a little bit. It was more or less impossible though, and the frustration was only serving to make him more uncomfortable. Tears streamed down his face, catching along the edge of the muzzle, the feeling just noticeable enough to be irritating.Â
 He wanted to get move, to stretch his arms out right and relieve the tension in them, to scream or swear or do something but he was trapped. He had no choice but to endure this agony until Cain came back for them, and he didnât even know when that could possibly be, it could take hours and he wouldnât know until his owner walked through that door again.
 Honestly, he really wasnât sure heâd even last that long.
 ***
 Zander knew he wouldnât be able to last until Cain got back. He wasnât sure what he was thinking doing this, he wasnât sure why he thought this would be a good idea, and he wanted to yell and scream and swear at him for it but he couldnât, forcibly silenced when he even complained of the pain.Â
 The strain on his shoulders was agonizing, a burning ache that just got worse and worse. It was particularly bad on his left shoulder, and he knew that if Cain didnât come back soon this would end very, very poorly for him. He tried to stay as still as he possibly could but it was difficult when all he wanted to do was find a position that didnât feel like he was being tortured.Â
 He almost felt guilty for focusing on his own pain, when Wren was across the room and not doing any better than he was. He was crying behind that muzzle, forced to take deep breaths through his nose so he wouldnât suffocate choking on sobs. He hated the muzzles more than anything, he couldnât even try to calm him down, at least it wouldâve been a brief distraction from his own pain. He wanted to stay quiet, stay strong so that Wren wouldnât have to watch him break down, but it didnât take long for the pain to get to him, the panic of a worse case scenario making him shout and swear even if the words would be stopped by the leather muzzle.Â
 The strain on his shoulders continued to get more and more unbearable, and though he tried to prepare himself for it to get worse it still caught him off guard, the agonizing pain shot through his shoulder and he screamed when he involuntarily leaned forward, putting even more strain on his right shoulder. His breathing was nearly erratic, he was vaguely aware of Wrenâs panicked shouting but he could hardly hear him over his heart pounding in his ears.Â
Heâd suffered from dislocated shoulders so many times before but heâd never had so much pressure put on the joint, heâd never been forced to hold a position while dealing with that injury, and even though he was sure this was some kind of emergency, he knew it would be hours before he got any help.Â
***Â Â
 Wren was worried sick by the time Cain finally returned. Hours had passed, hours holding this uncomfortable position, hours of Zanderâs uncontrollable sobbing tearing at his heart. He couldnât stand to see him in so much pain, to see the unnatural way his arm was hanging. He couldnât imagine how much that had to hurt and it killed him that he couldnât do anything to help.Â
 Cain seemed to realize what had happened almost immediately, the smug look on his face disappeared as he rushed over to Zander. He swore under his breath as he freed him, but the disturbance of his arm only made Zander whine more, his arms falling limp at his sides. Cain hesitated before deciding to remove the muzzle, though he seemed to regret it as soon as Zander opened his mouth.
 âFuck you!â He shouted, eyes screwed shut as he brought his hand to his injured shoulder. âYou stupid fucking- god you fucking idiot!â He only opened his eyes to glare at Cain, even as tears streamed down his face.Â
 âWould you calm down!?â Cain snapped at him, helping him to his feet.
 âYeah sure fucker let me just ignore the dislocated fucking shoulder-!â His voice pitched into a cry as the movement just made things worse. He was unsteady on his feet, Cain tried to help him out of the room only for Zander to snap at him again. âDonât just fucking leave Wren! He canât take this much longer either!âÂ
 Wren was surprised that Cain actually listened to him, he was quick to uncuff his wrists, and though Wren could hardly feel his arms at this point he tried not to whine too much. He was grateful that the muzzle was removed, taking a shuddering breath as he struggled to his feet.Â
 âWren, to your room, now.â Cain ordered him, and he didnât need to be told twice. He spared a quick glance at Zander, he wanted to say something to him but he knew it was a bad idea, keeping his mouth shut as he struggled to make it there on his own. Keeping one position had been exhausting, his legs felt weak and numb from kneeling for so long, he was lucky it was only a short distance because he collapsed as soon as he was in the room. He hoped that Cain intended to get Zander some kind of help, but he figured he wouldnât know until they came back, Cain locking him in the room as they walked past.Â
 He was glad he hadnât been left to wait in that uncomfortable position, but he wished that Cain had brought him along, only so he could stay with Zander, try to comfort him however he could. He knew heâd complained of pain in his shoulders before, he was always in so much pain and he hated to know that heâd have to endure even more because of some careless game Cain wanted to play.Â
 He couldnât help but scowl, tiredly rubbing at his aching arms. Even now, left by himself, he didnât want to think about how much it hurt, he knew Zander was hurting way worse right now. He was glad that Cain seemed to tolerate being yelled at that way, or at least, that he didnât plan to punish him for it immediately, only adding to his suffering. He hoped heâd let it slide, hoped that Zander could finally get a fucking break, but he knew it wasnât likely.Â
 Heâd spent hours waiting for Cain to return, hours in excruciating pain, and now he had no choice but to do it again, sit down and wait just to find out if Zander was okay.
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Brown eyes, wide and worried, keep flicking up between Luxâs face and his arms. Lux isnât often left standing in the cellar, his wrists chained up, arms straight above his head. What worries Colten so much is the sound that those shoulders made - krrrpop - when they were yanked out of place. Lux screamed, and moaned, and then eventually went quiet after he got used to the pain of his dislocated joints.
âItâs okay,â The older prisoner assures, keeping the usual uncertain tremor out of his voice. He doesnât so much as breathe too deeply. He has to be careful not to jar his shoulders and make sounds that will scare the little boy. âIâm okay. I promise. Itâs, itâs not - itâs not that bad.â
Colten looks no less concerned. He shifts from sitting on the floor to sitting on his heels. âBut, it looks like it hurts.â
Lux would nod if he could. âYeah, it, it does. Little bit.â
A frown tugs more deeply at Coltenâs lips at the familiar words. Lux is never only hurt a little bit. âThey still gonna work? Are they - are they broken?â
âNo, theyâre not broken. Theyâre, um - they can get fixed. Itâs not hard to fix âem. âll h-hurt, but... theyâll be okay.â He flashes a bit of a smile. âThank you for worrying, Cole, but you donât have to.â Luxâs shoulders burn, they grate wrong, he canât stand the position theyâre being kept in or how his legs are nearly beginning to wobble, but itâs familiar pain. He can anticipate how itâll develop, he knows it wonât spread (except down to his fingers in a wave of liquid fire, and down the sides of his chest and back if his muscles twinge wrong, and straight across the back of his neck to lance down his spine). Itâs a measurable, manageable sort of agony. As long as he doesnât move.
âCan I give you a hug, then? You always say I can always hug you.â
A terrible shiver runs across Luxâs skin. His distress must be visible, heâs never been good at hiding it. âPle-ease donât.â He canât help the crack in his voice, especially since Coleâs gotten halfway through the motions of standing up while asking the question. The little boy plops back down. Frowning, worrying, helpless.
âWhen my arms are fixed,â The older warlock amends, because he canât stand making Cole upset. âWhen I can hug you back. Just, canât, d-donât want to moveâŚâ
Cole nods and doesnât argue; after all, Lux is obviously more than a little bit hurt.
Lux opens up his mouth to say something more, probably about to reel in his expression of fear after making Cole go so quiet, when thereâs a sudden jarring sound. Chains clanking and shifting. Luxâs brows knit together, his skin loses color as blood drains from his face, and a terrible keen catches in his throat as his arms fall, and his body crumples to the floor. Heâs unconscious before he hits the concrete below him.
The younger boy lurches forward, startled and hesitant, looking up at the hook in the ceiling. Itâs steady, it hasnât slipped from where itâs bolted in - the chains were locked, secure - how did it happen?
The Hunter. The man, the big angry man, he must have done it. With magic. From upstairs, not even watching, maybe hoping to hear a scream.
He was good, Lux was being good, Cole wants to yell. He wants to storm up the cellar stairs and kick the door and say, Hey! Why did you do that? He was being nice!
But the Hunter doesnât know anything about being nice, he decides angrily, walking over to Lux and sitting down beside him. He doesnât know anything about being nice at all.
We went away last Thursday after we got out of A&E because I dislocated both of my shoulders.. I've never felt pain like it and I don't want to feel it again. However I felt as though I deserved that pain because of how shit this year has gone!! I've treated the one person who I love so much like shit! Over someone who I thought I loved so much!! But we went away to EURO DISNEY and had an amazing few days! When we got back my mum was planning our next holiday next year abroad with her and my dad, me and my girl â¤ď¸đ my life is so great right now... So why do I feel numb? đ
