stray thought
befuddled-calico-whump reblogged
displeased
displeased II: even more
looking a little beat up over here
some pain for the guy :)
I think we're getting somewhere
get drilled nerd
vic whump propaganda
#as you know i enjoy whumping the whumpers#they can't escape#the rest of the crew has suffered enough it's Vic's turn#t$$ vic#whump art#whumpy art#minor eyestrain#blood#broken bones#hand whump#gagged#partial nudity#whumper turned whumpee#noncon drugging#whipping#you can tell i don't draw him often skdhej#older whumpee
Could you please do cerus getting his hand squeezed and hurt by nisha?
Even rendered unable to cast by his broken fingers and the runes engraved on the chair, Cerus's psyche seemed intact. The elder priest was visibly struggling to breach his mind, the light emanating from her eyes flickering with the effort.
Nisha elected to help her.
Nothing dramatic. They simply took hold of Cerus's hand and began to squeeze. Bones shifted and clicked in their grip, and Cerus screamed. They kept going. Tighter and tighter, until Nisha's own hand hurt from the pressure, and the noises pouring from Cerus's throat no longer sounded human.
(from Unbelief)
befuddled-calico-whump reblogged
Penumbra: Unbelief
cw: torture, interrogation, broken bones, hand whump, psychic whump
previous ///// masterlist ///// next
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The Shadow King was strung up like a puppet when Nisha came to fetch him; a body hanging limp, suspended by chains. Even as seasoned a warrior as Nisha was, the sight of the gauntlets—the thought of his mangled hands being crammed back into them—turned their stomach. They'd be having a word with the guards about that.
Cerus was unconscious, and remained so as he was transported to the chamber where the interrogation would take place. Somewhere a little warmer, a little cleaner, for the visiting priests.
He was sat in a heavy iron chair, wrists and legs secured with embedded manacles. Once properly restrained, one of the holy mages woke him with a spell, and the silence of the room was broken with a gasp and an utterly pathetic whimper.
"Cerus Hollowthorn," the elder priest began. "You stand accused of forbidden magic. It is impossible for you to deny your use of necromancy, but the alleged blood rituals have yet to see evidence. What say you?"
The Shadow King took his time responding, perhaps catching his breath. Perhaps dragging out a scant moment of peace as long as he could.
befuddled-calico-whump reblogged
Penumbra: Unjust
for Angstpril, Day 9: Devastation
cw: aftermath of torture, mentioned hand whump, death/war mention
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The trial of the Shadow King was surrounded by all kinds of ceremony. Gaiety and gruesomeness found common ground as people celebrated what was sure to be an impending execution.
Tansy wasn't sure what to think of it all.
The festivities were fun, more elaborate than they'd ever seen, despite the murmurs from the locals that it would've been grander were it not for the now-ended siege.
Siege or not, it was still many times grander than any of the small-town festivals Tansy had attended growing up. But they weren't exactly looking forward to the event it was all leading up to.
Not for any loyalty to the overthrown monarch. To hell with the Shadow King, his end couldn't come soon enough. But watching that end happen was a different story.
They knew the finer details of the trial had already been sorted through before the public portion; really, only the final verdict and sentencing was left, set to take place in the spacious city square. It was already full when Tansy arrived, people packed in like fish in a net. They were intent on at least watching the end of the trial, even if they hadn't made up their mind about whether they'd stay for the execution or not.
Abandoned
For Angstpril, Day 6
cw: aftermath of torture, mentioned hand whump, death mention
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Hero was troubled.
It wasn't the fight. He'd gotten better of the five supervillain-wannabes without breaking a sweat, stripped them of the tech they were using, and watched as they were all led away in handcuffs.
He'd dusted himself off, briefed law enforcement on the scenario, then started collecting the gear the criminals had used so it could be turned in as evidence.
It wasn't until he was holding the first piece—a cuff that let its wearer manipulate electricity—that Hero's blood ran cold. It was inch-for-inch identical to something he'd seen Villain use.
He collected the rest of the gear in a hurry, giving each item a quick once-over, and each piece further confirmed his suspicion.
Villain had made the tech that outfitted the aspiring criminals of the day. Dammit. He should've realized this was bigger than an attempted robbery. Villain was always a step ahead.
And he'd been missing for months. Plenty of time to plan something big. How many other petty criminals had he outfitted in that time? Would the city see a spike in crime? Or…
A chill washed over Hero as he remembered the last time he'd seen Villain. Running away, tail between his legs after a crushing defeat at Hero's hands.
Was this revenge? Had the robbery been a distraction?
He handed the rest of the gear off quickly, trying not to let the worry show on his face as he took off.
What if Villain had attacked his base? His team? His family? Even in route, he called back to the team's headquarters in a hurry.
befuddled-calico-whump reblogged
Penumbra: Unchained
for Angstpril, Day 5: (alt) Serious Injury
cw: torture, hand whump, general brutality, broken bones
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Two priests, each trained in truth and the magic of the mind, were but a few days' journey away, and Cerus remained as stubborn as ever.
The fallen king had been a prisoner for weeks now, denied all but that which kept him alive and under constant abuse at the hands of the guards. Beaten and tortured, then healed only to have the cycle start anew. And despite it all, he refused to yield even an inch.
Every time Nisha removed the bit, they were met with curses and threats and insults. It didn't matter if they were asking questions or offering sustenance. Cerus would not bow.
Though they knew the soon-to-arrive priests would take care of the kingdom's worries of blood magic, Nisha still felt as if they'd failed at their task. Granted, they knew it wasn't wholly their fault. Breaking a man took time, especially someone so steeped in pride and immorality as Cerus, but despite that, they wished they could've given the holy mages someone more…pliable to work with.
Perhaps they still could.
befuddled-calico-whump reblogged
Never (Masterlist)
A different take on Captain Hook, how he lost his hand, and his history with Peter.
general cw: torture, some graphic descriptions
Art:
#reblog because ITS FINISHED 🎉#its so rare that i ever finish a story#even one like this thats mostly just narrative backstory (with a lot of whump)#of all the hundreds of wips ive had over the years ive maybe seen a dozen to completion#not including flash fiction#pirate whump#never/never#captain hook#torture tw#captivity whump#hand whump#knife whump
befuddled-calico-whump reblogged
cw: hand whump, gore, brief emeto mention, this one gets kinda graphic so be warned :)
"Pick a hand."
James eyed his captor, sullen and silent. For two days, he'd been a prisoner in the brig of his own ship. No food, no water, no idea if the men still loyal to him were even alive. Kept chained to the wall, bound in a bent position by rough rope.
His body ached, his head was pounding, his mouth felt swollen, and here was Peter, first mate turned mutineer, giving him stupid orders.
"Pick a hand," Peter said again, sounding annoyed.
"Why?" James spat out, his voice rasping. "Why should I do anything you ask of me?"
Peter clicked his tongue. "Well now, you don't sound like someone who wants a drink of water."
James scowled. So this was how it was going to be. He'd have to play Peter's games, cave into his demands, just for the pleasure of keeping himself alive. Fine. His life was worth more to him than his pride.
"Left," he said, and Peter's face broke into a smile.
"There we go!" he said, producing a small flask from his hip and unscrewing the lid. He pressed it to James' lips, and he drank, unable to grasp it himself with his hands tied behind his back. It was taken away too soon.
"Now, you said your left hand?" Peter asked, moving behind him. James tensed as his former first mate cut the hand in question loose in such a way that the other was still tied firmly in place. Traitor or not, Peter was skilled with rope tricks. He gripped his wrist tightly, and James winced as his arm was straightened for the first time in days.
Even with one hand freed, the rest of his body was practically immobilized. Trying to fight back at this point would yield only failure. His best hope was to entertain Peter's wishes until the traitor let his guard down.
"Left hand, left hand. Good choice," Peter said, tracing a finger along James' palm. "Now, will you let me cut it off?"
befuddled-calico-whump reblogged
Devils in the Details
This is just a little piece of experimentation writing, I had an idea and ran with it just to try out the Vibes. I had to give them names for it to feel right, I guess we'll see if either of them show up again in the future. I wanted to try something here, starting with the small detail and slowly widening the lens... I like how it turned out!
Contents: aftermath of torture/interrogation, mob/crime type setting, hand whump, knives, guns, blood, threats, all that juicy stuff.
It hurts like hell as his hand is lifted—the mangled broken one with its cracked bones and dislocated joints—so the pad of his thumb can be pressed to the fingerprint scanner. Of course it’s the broken one that Blake uses, not the one that’s chained to the table leg.
Gil grits his teeth through every tiny shift, air whistles past his teeth as he hisses, almost a whine. And then he breathes, swallows, gets air into his lungs just in time to be able to gasp as his hand is laid back down on the surface of the table and the pain spikes all over again. There’s a gentle clunk in front of him and he opens his eyes to see his phone shining up at him.
“Now the passcode.”
He looks up, licks his lips. The handcuff rattles as he tries to raise his right hand. Blake holds his gaze, waiting perched on the edge of the table.
“The passcode.”
They’d asked for it before, but that was hours ago. Hours before the pain he’s in now. Long before he’d reached the point of caving in, willing to do this—to make it stop.
“Y-yeah, give me… yeah.” His voice is hoarse. He’s out of options, or at least out of options that don’t involve more pain.