#torture

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumper was tired of being looked down upon and mocked, they wanted to finally have power in their hands, and if they had to torture their way to power then so be it. Finally, the whumper felt strong, and finally, people looked at them with fear, and they didn’t feel guilty about hurting so many, after all, many of them had mocked them before- they deserved it all.

[sethnorth]

Nigel McGuinness destroying his jobber toy

[unforgivenn]

16th HOUR #8: Flesh and Metal

Previous/ Masterlist

CW: violence, injury, trauma, severe self-harm, asphyxiation, Drug use, Emotional and psychological distress, panic, Non-con restraints and captivity, manipulation, abuse This one is gory af

Samuel’s breaths came in ragged gasps, each one feeling more desperate than the last. His heart pounded against his chest, and he could hear the loud ringing in his ears. The dim light overhead flickered weakly, casting long shadows on the cold stone walls that felt more like a prison than a room. He shuddered as he became fully conscious, his head pounding from whatever drug had been injected into him. It made his thoughts sluggish, his body heavy, every limb slow to respond. Of course the fucker had added drugs in the food..

It was working too well—his mind felt clouded, sluggish, like he was wading through thick fog. A dull metallic clinking echoed in the small space as the chain around his ankle rattled. His skin stung where the cold, unrelenting metal dug into it, sharp and cruel, biting deeper with every tiny shift he made. It felt weird. He wasn’t unconscious like all the other times. No, this one was worse—it was keeping him awake, his brain half-functional, aware enough to feel the panic creeping in but too clouded to think his way out. His limbs felt heavy, almost disconnected from the rest of his body. Each movement was like dragging his limbs through wet cement, sluggish and agonizing.

He blinked, trying to focus on the chains binding him. His vision doubled, then tripled, the room spinning like a carousel he couldn’t get off. His stomach lurched, bile rising in his throat, but he forced it down. The cold bite of the shackle around his ankle snapped him back for a moment, though the edges of his awareness frayed with each passing second. Every breath felt like it took a monumental effort, and his body swayed, barely able to keep upright.

His fingers brushed the chain at his ankle, fumbling to find some way to loosen it. The cold metal felt wrong, almost foreign, like his nerves couldn’t fully register the sensation anymore. It took a few moments before he realized the wetness on his hands wasn’t sweat—it was blood. He couldn’t feel the pain the way he should have; it was muted, distant, but there. Always there, gnawing at the edges of his senses. He tugged at the chain again, gritting his teeth as a wave of dizziness hit him hard, threatening to pull him under.

His breathing grew rapid, and he tried blinking away the tears. "No... no, no, no..." he whispered, the words tumbling from his lips like prayers to a god that wasn’t listening. His hand flew to his throat, clawing at it. Not now Oh god please not now.

Samuel forced himself to stop, pressing his hands into the cold floor beneath him. He was still alive. Well at least that was something.. is mind raced, replaying flashes of what had happened. The auction, the bidding, Marcus... Fucking Marcus.

His hands trembled as they reached for the chain at his ankle, desperate to find a weak point, something he could exploit. Somehow the chain felt as if it was choking him, as if it kept tightening every few seconds. Maybe it did. He wasn't sure.

It was like his mind was floating somewhere above his body, detached, watching himself suffer without the power to do anything about it. The chain’s tightness around his ankle felt both real and unreal, the metallic bite digging into his flesh while his senses struggled to fully process it. His ankle was throbbing, but it was like his brain couldn’t quite understand that it was his ankle, his pain. His breaths came faster, shallower, the air thick and cloying, suffocating him as his head lolled to the side.

He pulled at the chain, trying to wedge his fingers underneath to loosen it. It didn’t move. It was so tight that even the slightest pressure sent a sharp jolt of pain through his ankle. Samuel bit down hard on his lip, swallowing a groan, and tried again, his muscles straining with the effort. The drug in his system only made it harder for him to think. His breath came out in ragged gasps, the air around him thick and suffocating. Please Please Please...

The pain intensified, the metal biting into the tender flesh, but Samuel refused to stop. His fingers fumbled, slick with sweat and the beginnings of blood, as he tried to pry it off. He could feel the rough edges of the chain grinding into his skin, and a sickening crack told him something was breaking—not the chain, but something inside him. The pain increased, probably a sign that the drug was wearing off.

Samuel pressed one of his hands on his mouth, trying to drown out the noises of pain that slipped away. He pulled his hand away from the shackle trying to calm himself down, trying to repeat himself he could do this, that the pain was going to be worth it when he got out here. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks.

He took a shaky breath before closing his eyes and then yanking harder, his whole body trembling with the exertion. His ankle felt like it was on fire, the sharp, stabbing pain growing with each desperate pull. Blood trickled down his leg, warm and sticky, mixing with the dirt and grime that coated his skin. The stench of iron filled his nostrils, turning his stomach.

Samuel gritted his teeth, the copper taste of blood filling his mouth as he bit down harder on his soft lips to stifle his cries. He tugged again, harder this time, and something tore. A raw, burning sensation shot through his ankle, and he could feel the skin peeling away, layer by agonizing layer. His vision blurred with more tears sniffling to keep them in.

As much as he wanted to disagree he couldn’t stop now. He was too far in. His fingers pressed against the blood-soaked skin, trying to wedge the chain down. The more he pushed, the deeper it cut, and soon, the chain was buried in his flesh, disappearing into the bloody mess that had once been his ankle. His stomach twisted in revulsion and he gagged at the sight. He pulled his filthy shirt, twisting it and then biting down on it.

His thoughts raced, fractured and wild, as the pain tore through him. It felt like he was being split open from the inside, his flesh ripped apart by the unrelenting pressure of the chain. He wanted to scream, wanted to rip his own fucking leg off just to make it stop.

His whole body shook, his breaths coming out in strangled gasps as he yanked again, the chain slipping slightly down. A fresh wave of agony surged through him, so intense it stole his breath. His vision swam, the room spinning around him. Please lord just let it come off..

The chain slid another inch, pulling more of his skin with it, leaving a raw, oozing wound in its wake. Samuel’s body convulsed, the pain so overwhelming that he could barely think, barely breathe. His ankle was a mangled, bleeding mess, the flesh torn away to reveal the slick, gleaming bone beneath.

Biting down on the shirt wasn't helping so he bit down hard on his knuckle, his teeth sinking into the flesh to keep himself from crying out and distract him from the overwhelming pain.

Samuel pushed again, his fingers slick with blood as he worked the chain farther down. His skin peeled away in thick, wet chunks, and he could feel the warmth of the blood pooling around his foot, soaking into the cold, hard floor. His breath hitched, his whole body trembling from the exertion, from the sheer, overwhelming agony.

The chain slipped again, this time falling with a dull clink onto the floor. A wave of relief washed over him, but it was short-lived. Samuel’s ankle throbbed, blood oozing from the deep gash that circled it. His skin was shredded, barely hanging on, the bone exposed and gleaming in the dim light of the room. He looked down at the mess of his leg, nausea rising in his throat at the sight of it. Fucking move!!

His legs barely moved, his body not responding the way it should have. He wasn’t sure if it was the drugs or the pain—or maybe both—but everything felt wrong, like he was fighting through layers of molasses just to take another breath, to move another inch.

God, what did he put in me?

He dragged himself to his feet, biting back a scream as his injured ankle gave way beneath him. The world tilted dangerously, but he forced himself to stay upright, leaning heavily on the wall for support, breathing heavily. Every step was filled with agony, and his vision blurred with each jolt of pain that shot through him.

The room seemed to spin around him as he struggled towards the door, the smell of thick blood nauseatingly in the air. His whole body ached, every muscle screaming in protest, yet he pushed forward, his heart pounding in his chest. The door was so close—just a few more steps.

And then, a sound.

Footsteps. Drawing closer.

Samuel tensed up at the sudden sound, his heart racing as fear gripped him. No no no no no!!

And almost immediately, heavy tears began streaming down his cheeks with his eyes still wide open in shock. His breath hitched when the door creaked open.

Marcus stood in the doorway, his cold calculating eyes fixed onto Samuel. There was no emotion in them, no hint of sympathy or understanding. It was that same detached cruelty that daunted Samuel since Day One. A tinge of a smile curled up on the man's face as his eyes fell upon the mess his prisoner had made.

"No.."

Samuel’s heart sank, his breath choking his throat. The chain might be off, but he wasn’t free. Not yet.

And Marcus had come to remind him of that.

"Were you going somewhere, Sammy?" Marcus tilted his head, pouting as he stepped into the room, his movements slow and deliberate, as if some sort of predator closing in on his prey.

Cold sweat oozed down his face; his heart racing in his chest. He could feel the room shrink around him, the walls coming down, suffocating him. Samuel shook his head, shaking.

Marcus took a step closer, his gaze flicking down to the bloody mess that was Samuel’s ankle. A slow, cold smile spread across his lips. "Are you sure? It looks like you’ve been very busy."

Samuel jerked his body backward, his body with a loud cry as the pain flared through his ankle once again.

He was trapped.

Samuel's knees buckled and his body collapsed under him. The pain in his ankle ripped through him with the ferocity of wildfire, each nerve shrieking in protest as he tried to find his footing, but the blood-slick floor betrayed him. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, gasping for air and trying to suppress the wave of nausea rising in his throat.

“No…” His voice was barely audible, a terrified whisper as Marcus stepped back into the room, his expression unreadable. He hit his head against the cold floor, letting out a defeated sob. Samuel’s chest tightened, his breath hitching in his throat. The terror was so overwhelming it was paralyzing, his body locking up as Marcus approached.

He closed his eyes, clenching them shut so hard that it hurt, as if the act would block out the reality of where he was, of what he had become. But it didn’t. Nothing could. Not even the thick fog that was ever so slowly settling over his mind, numbing his thoughts, dulling the edges of his consciousness. The pain, though, remained sharp, ever-present.

“Still fighting, I see,” Marcus said, his voice dripping heavy with sarcasm. He crouched down, his face inches from Samuel’s, that sickening smile playing on his lips. “That’s cute.”

Samuel’s lips trembled, his breath coming in shallow, irregular gasps when Marcus’s fingers pressed into his skin. He wanted to pull away, to scream, to do anything to get away from that touch, but his body refused to comply.

Marcus’s hand slid down, his fingers curving around Samuel’s throat, just tight enough to make him feel the pressure, the promise of something far worse if he dared resist. Samuel’s pulse quickened, his chest heaving with panic surging through him.

“Do you understand why this keeps happening?” Marcus asked, voice soft and silky, as if trying to soothe a frightened child. “It’s because you don’t listen, Sam. You don’t learn. I’m trying to help you, and still you keep fighting me.”

Help? Dehumanizing someone with thoughts and feelings wasn't helping. Making someone go through pain without any reason wasn't helping. Fuck him, He wouldn't even know the meaning of "help". Samuel’s jaw clenched, his teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard that he tasted blood. He wanted to scream at Marcus, to tell him how much he hated him, how much he despised every word that came out of his mouth. But he couldn’t. The words were trapped in his throat, smothered by fear.

“You’re stubborn,” Marcus continued, his thumb brushing lightly against Samuel’s pulse. “But that’s okay. I’m not in a hurry. I can wait for you to understand.”

Samuel's breath caught as his body shook beneath Marcus' touch. He didn’t want to understand. He didn’t want to listen. All he wanted was for this to end, for the nightmare to be over. Apparently that was too much to ask in this world. Maybe in some other life he would be treated like a human with emotions and not just some doll.

The man leaned closer, hot breath against Samuel’s ear. “You’ll learn eventually,” he whispered, “One way or another.”

There was still a small part of Samuel that clung to the hope that this could end, that there was a way out, a way to escape. But that part was growing weaker with each passing day, each passing hour. And Marcus knew it.

Marcus always knew.

The man crouched down again, his eyes locking onto Samuel’s, his smile widening as he leaned in close, his breath ghosting across Samuel’s skin.

“You hate me,” Marcus whispered, his voice a low, dark murmur that sent a shiver down Samuel’s spine. “I know you do. I can see it in your eyes.”

Samuel’s throat tightened, his heart pounding against his ribcage as he stared up at Marcus, the hatred burning in his chest like a fire that refused to die.

“But that’s okay,” Marcus continued, his fingers brushing against Samuel’s cheek. “Hate is just another form of attention. As long as you’re focused on me, I don’t care what you feel.”

The words hit Samuel like a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs as the full weight of Marcus’s control pressed down on him. It wasn’t about love or hate. It wasn’t about what Samuel felt. It was about Marcus — always Marcus — and the way he could twist and manipulate everything around him, bending it to his will.

Marcus smiled. “You’re going to learn your place, Samuel. You’re going to learn that you don’t get to fight. You don’t get to resist. You’re mine now. And anyways you wouldn't like me to send you back to the facility would you?"

Samuel’s throat closed up, his vision swimming with tears. He wanted to scream, to fight, to tell Marcus to go to hell, but his body betrayed him. His voice was gone, swallowed by the overwhelming fear that was crushing him from the inside out.

Marcus’s grip tightened and he gritted his teeth widening the smile, his fingers digging painfully into Samuel’s skin. “You wouldn't right?”

“I—” Samuel choked on his words, his voice barely more than a whimper. As bad as Marcus was, anything would be better than returning to the facility. “I-I… No..”

“No what?”

“No… sir.”

Marcus’s smile widened, a sick, satisfied grin that made Samuel’s stomach churn with disgust and shame. His hand released him, and he stood up, looking down at him.

“Good boy,” Marcus said, his voice filled with a twisted sense of pride.

Samuel wanted to die.

---

Taglist: @electrons2006/ @anutz1234/ @ash-reh/ @whumped-by-glitter/ @catnykit/ @morning-star-whump/ @paperprinxe/ @octopus-reactivated/ @whumpdemonium/ @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees/ @noeul-whumpppss

@whumpifi/ @fable-bug-real/ @cheesemctoastnuggets/ @deputydeputyp/ @thelazywitchphotographer/ @isntthisblank/ @noeul-whumpppssssss1234

@nuriiz134/ @fox-fox234/ @carosbee/ @writingphoenix @carolinethedragon/ @possumhoe/ @evagran/ @somebody327/ @someoneoninternettt/ @classyanchorlove/ @kiratheperson/ @boahamcock/ @pyromaiow/ @imarandomgamer/ @edward-mybeloved/ @skribl/ @aleki-lives-here/ @roskarovio/ @pentagramstars/ @ossknsma/ @abbyreader23/ @cluelesscameraman/ @alphabet-egg/ @cheesemctoastnuggets/ @deputydeputyp/ @thelazywitchphotographer/ @isntthisblank/@demetercabingreen-thumb/ @noeul-whumpppssssss1234/ @electrons2006/ @demetercabingreen-thumb

@vampiresprite/ @lucas--43/ @defire/ @mylifeisonthebookshelf/ @whumpwhittler/ @taterswhump

(lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3)

[whumperofworlds]

Whumper giving Whumpee a plate of food. Whumpee, weak from hunger and injury, crawls towards the food, but Whumper swipes it away from them just as soon as Whumpee's fingers touched the plate. Whumper then places the food back down at a slight distance, to which Whumpee crawls towards it. As soon as their fingers touch the plate, Whumper takes it from them.

Rinse and repeat until Whumpee starts crying and begging.

[stalkingcreeperworld-blog]

I love this scene. Sexy victim and nice long struggle.

Source: Wallander (Sweden) Season 03 Episode 02

[sayruq]

[heritageposts]

Link to Jonathan Cook's article:

[probablybadrpgideas]

Bullshit villain plans by genre

Fantasy: Fuck it, this whole "manipulate adventurers into doing my bidding" sounds hard. I'm just ordering the cursed artefact that will let me dominate all life through Wizard Amazon. Sure, I'll agree to next day shipping. I'm evil.

Post-apocalypse: Villain who wants to destroy the world sad at having missed chance, trying to rebuild the world so they can destroy it a second time.

Sci-fi: Even the alien invaders aren't sure why they're invading earth rather then just mining asteroids, but they're too stuck in the sunk cost fallacy to leave now.

Horror: Tax evasion but spoooooky

Cyberpunk: Guy who wants to stop the megacorporations and has a fully ethical plan to do so, then remembered what genre they were in so quickly added five wildly immoral parts for no reason.

Superhero: Dr Devastation and his Doom Legions plotting to take over the world via a several decade gradual erosion of civil liberties and government regulation.

Comfy: Gonna brutally torture everyone to death but, you know, a low-stakes pastoral way.

Urban Fantasy: Learn the spell "summon gun" and use that to take all the other wizard's stuff by shooting them in the fucking face.

Espionage: Look, just pick any random news story and go with that one.

[anim-ttrpgs]

(Exerpt from Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy.)

[kropotkindersurprise]

July, 2024 - “I will continue, I will stay here at this place and as long as I am alive, I will serve my patients and people.” Israeli forces abducted Palestinian doctor Issam Abu Ajwa from al-Ahli hospital in Gaza where he was volunteering as a surgeon, and held him captive for over 200 days. He suffered prolonged torture at the hands of his Israeli captors and lost 37 kg in six months, but now he's back at work in al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital so save Palestinian lives. [video]

[vvvvvivacious]

favouritism

[stalkingcreeperworld-blog]

Nice panic.

[kotias]

Your Grace is a Fire

New fic just dropped, prompted by @gleafer on her Patreon!!

Prompt:

“Hell infuses Crowley’s body with hellfire so he runs away and hides for years. Aziraphale finds him, and he thinks he knows how to put out the fire that burns his demon so!”

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hell's Punishments, Graphic description of torture, graphic description of illness, graphic description of violence, Stalking, fleeing, divine ecstasy, Coming Untouched, Bloodgraphic description of body failing and doing disgusting things, Shedding, Angst with a Happy Ending, angst with a porny ending, Angst and Porn

TW: I am so serious. DEAD DOVE. There is blood, torture, intense amounts of gross bodily fluids.

Word count: 7,369 words

Summary:

Laudanum! Last time Crowley would do that… Hell infuses the demon with hellfire and sends him back on Earth, where Heaven hunts him down for three decades before Aziraphale gets his hands on him and brings him back to the bookshop. There, they work together to rid Crowley from this hellfire plaguing him…

Excerpt:

Before him, Aziraphale’s irises changed. The jade colour they had been wearing until then was engulfed into a golden typhoon, thrashing against the walls of its white enclosure and devouring it until all trace of the jewel was gone. The storm passed, leaving behind it the pure, bright blue of a clear sky, almost light enough to lose itself into the rest of the eye.

Crowley only realised that Aziraphale had opened his mouth when his warm breath tickled his skin, and he followed the light appearing between his teeth.

He shook his head, letting out a plaintive whine, trying to get away, get away, get away— but the cold light glowing harder than the sun breached the space of Aziraphale’s lips and entered his, resting on the tip of his tongue and giving him a moment of soothing warmth.

That, however, did not last.

As the glowing bundle rolled into his mouth and down his throat, the cosy embrace turned into a scorching hot tear rolling into the walls towards his chest and freezing his inside with shock.

“Wha—”

“I know.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed in concern and, Crowley understood, a silent apology. “It’s going to hurt, Crowley.”

And hurt it did, like nothing he had lived through before. He didn’t need to see the light moving inside him to know exactly where it was; everything it touched caught on fire, only to be frozen over and shredded to pieces. Each nerve of his body seemed to be looking for an escape, goosebumps covering his skin like needles.

Each gasp of suffering added only more hurt as the air blew the flames of the hellfire inside him harder and harder. It felt like a battle between Aziraphale’s light and his own affliction, and the loser was himself.

He crashed to the ground, wriggling and whining, his vision turning black.

Read more here

And of course, I am not forgetting @goodomensafterdark ;)

[sayruq]

[heritageposts]

Link to twitter thread (warning: dead bodies, torture)

Below are some stills from the second half of the Al Jazeera video, with some of the more graphic footage edited out.

(Literally, with his blood spilling from him, the handcuffed prisoner is walking. Behind him, another prisoner with a camera on his body.)

[omgellendean]

“It was the first time I had seen an Israeli soldier in real life,” Ahmad told Mondoweiss.

The army separated the women from the men and forced the women to flee south to Rafah. The men were kept zip-tied and would remain in the army’s custody. [...]

The next morning on January 23, the Israeli soldiers ordered Ahmad, his father, his brother, and the rest of his cousins to move outdoors and instructed them to move horizontally in front of the armored military cars.

“As they ordered us to stop and stand still, I found myself again a few meters away from the resistance military base,” Ahmad said. “ That was the moment I realized that we were being used as human shields.”

Soldiers forced them to kneel in the middle of the street as they took cover behind Ahmad and his male relatives.

They were forced to wear thin clothes in the winter cold, and their hands were zip-tied so tightly that they couldn’t feel their fingers. The soldiers at several points fired bullets next to their feet in an effort to terrorize them, perhaps to make them amenable to following orders.

“Every time they shot at us, I instantly poked my back to check if I was still alive,” said Ahmad, recalling the soldiers’ giggles at how scared he and his family were.

At other times, a tank would rapidly move towards them, then drift back, less than a meter away from them. Ahmad realized the soldiers were toying with them.  

At one point, soldiers picked Ahmad’s brother, Saeed, and tortured him, breaking his jaw. They kicked him in his genitals like they were “hitting a football,” according to Saeed. They beat him so severely that he blacked out at one point. [...]

Before sunset, the exchange of gunfire broke out again. Three Israeli soldiers rushed towards Ahmad and the rest of the men and pulled them toward a large sand dune, which they forced them to stand upon so that they were visible and exposed to the line of fire. As they stood atop the dune, they looked down and on the other side of it was a large ditch in the sand underfoot. 

The soldiers forced them to stand there on the dune, exposed to the line of fire and with the ditch looming below. [...]

After the exchange of fire was over, the Israeli soldiers forced Ahmad and the rest of the men inside a building. The building was all dark except for the room Ahmad and his family were forced into. The southern and eastern walls of the room were destroyed, which made those inside visible to anyone in sight from the resistance base.

Every once in a while, a soldier would come and point a red laser towards them for a few minutes, and then go away.

“I think he was trying to make it clear to the resistance fighters that we were also inside that building, as they were using us, once again, as human shields,” Ahmad explained.

Moments later, soldiers took them one by one to another room. It was the first time in more than 18 hours of being held as hostages that they began to interrogate them.[...]

After about two hours, the soldiers set Ahmad and his family free and ordered them to move south by making them follow a laser beam in the dead of night.

Fumbling through the roads, Ahmad and his family were finally able to reach a UN school about a mile away sheltering a number of displaced people.