#knives tw
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.
It’s a special kind of agony to raise his hand and use the back of a knuckle to key in the four digit number. It aggravates the injuries, but it cuts deeper too. He knows he’s giving in; too weak to hold out. But wouldn’t anyone, after all this? He isn’t sure.
“Very good. See how easy this can be?”
He scowls, face twisting in disgust. Gets a laugh for it.
“I know, you have your orders, your principles to follow. Unfortunately so do I, it’s a shame they clash. I’m sure neither of us wants to be here.”
No, he doesn’t want to be here. Would walk out if he could, if his legs would even hold his weight after all the pain, the exhaustion.
“Not exactly my choice for a vacation, no,” he replies, stifling a cough as his lungs protest. Cracked rib, then. Or bruised at least. The chair squeaks under his weight, the legs crooked. His knee knocks against the table but it’s too solid to wobble. Had held his weight well enough while they worked him over.
Blake leans back, spreads his arms wide. “We do our best with what we have.”
And what they have is a pile of shit. Fuck all. Until now… until he gives them everything he has. Maybe not everything, he’ll have to see what he can hold on to. He takes a steadying breath. Pulls himself back from the points of pain in his body, into the room to focus on what he has to do next.
“Now, let’s go through this a bit at a time.” Blake swipes the phone and clicks around. “Contacts first, one by one. I show you a name or number, you tell me what their relation is to you and your operation. Understand?”
“Can I have some water?”
There’s a silent exchange between Blake and the man guarding the door. It’s thick and heavy–the door, and the man– off to the side near the corner, opening to a room longer than it is wide, but not by much. Not big enough for Gil’s screams to echo, but big enough that his eyes can wander over cracks and peeling paint on the walls. He snaps his attention back to Blake as he gets his answer.
“After you answer some questions, sure, then you can drink.”
His throat is like sandpaper, raw and rough. He bobs his head anyway. What else is he going to do?
“Of course you’d say anything right now to get this to stop, wouldn’t you?” Blake appraises him over the phone, the blue light glinting in his eyes. Makes him look even more unnerving, eerily otherworldly. But he’s only a man, he just happens to be a man on the winning side of this exchange.
Another hesitant lick of his lips. “I… no, I mean, I’m cooperating?”
“Right, sure.” The phone is waved around as Blake squints, thinking. “But even so, you know I’ll need to verify each thing you tell me, independently. You talk, we check, then we move on. I can’t take your word for anything under these conditions.”
These conditions. The ones where he’s ratting out everyone he knows. “I understand.”
“Great, so, first things first—your role. And your real name?”
He must hesitate a fraction of a second too long because there’s the distinct sound of a gun being cocked behind him, and the large man blocking his exit comes into his field of view. Finger casually held down the side of the barrel, gun turned slightly in his direction. He sinks down in his seat, bare feet sliding on the boards underneath—slick with blood. With other things.
Blake shakes his head, chuckles. “That’s not necessary, Crill. No, no death is not what’s going to motivate you right now is it?”
He clenches his jaw, rotates it, grinding his teeth. Took one too many hits to the face and it’s all swollen, bruised and hot. He shakes his head, or at least, he shakes.
“No, the threat of more pain, that’syour motivation.”
“You don’t need—” he starts, desperately, and is cut off as a large, sharp knife appears in Blake’s hand from the sheath at his hip. He follows it, can’t look away from it. “Please, come on, I won’t…”
“Won’t what? Talk?” The knife twirls, the point edges towards him, wobbles like a wagging finger.
“Won’t hold back!”
That gets a smile, the knife sidles closer, plucks at the collar of his shirt and swipes downwards slowly until the top button strains and then pops. He looses a breath with it as the button bounces out of sight, a whine stuck in his throat.
“I know,” Blake replies.
His shirt is already in tatters, burnt, ripped, soaked in blood. Not like he’s going to miss that one button but the casual destruction fills him with dread as Blake rounds the table, picks up a pad of paper and a pen. A second phone. Settles in like this is a business meeting. As if one person at the table hasn’t been brutalised, isn’t bleeding.
The morning light just peeking through the mesh covered window paints the entire scene in bleak, grey tones. A washed out horror show that he’s too tired to make sense of.
“Keep doing what I ask and we can relax while we wait for your stories to be corroborated.”
That makes him shudder. How can he relax like this, alone, haunted, hurt? His mind drifts out of the window. There’s an entire world waking up outside. Getting out of bed, eating, starting the day right. And yet he can’t wake up from the nightmare he was dragged into. He blinks, stupidly, trying to clear some of the haze from his mind. His wits are nowhere to be found, though. Must have bled out of him along with his screams.
That smile again, small, but so confident. “Let’s begin.”
Methos screencaps * Comes A Horseman
Kronos!
For those of us who think he’s extra pretty when he’s terrified and/or in pain.
This is a tiny little scene but I really like it.
Post link
Habit from Everymanhybrid stimboard with knives and the colour purple for anon!
I hope you like it, just tell me if you want anything changing! :D
Carrot Top 54- Compensation
Ugh, this chapter was so tricky to write. I wanted to use several different povs and stuff, but I think this works. So here is the next chapter! Part 53.Masterlist.
CW: a lot of pain, and descriptions of pain, restraints, talk about old injuries, lots of threats, electrocution (shock collar), knives, guns, choking, whips (some of this is threatened, some is used), a lot of blood, intimate/creepy whumper, multiple whumpees, (Splice is just an all-around dick, sorry.)
- - -
There was fire coursing through his veins.
It was no more than a dull warmth- an ache- that traveled up the back of his spine, and along each and every cut and mark that trailed it’s way around his body. His ankles were still throbbing- swollen and purple- but he couldn’t feel much pain.
From his small amount of coherence, it didn’t seem like he could feel his hands or his feet. He hung limply in the chains around his wrists- each breath a labored effort as he tried to get his lungs to pump against the strain of his own body weight.
Splice was speaking.
He was retelling- and going over every injury- every single scar- and story and torture session- and moment of pain and humiliation. And his friends were listening to every second of it.
Micah, was listening to every second of it.
Micah had already seen the lesson Splice had taught him. The conditioned responses that he answered without hesitation. The answers that he had come to believe.
That he belonged to Splice. That he was nothing more than a tool, or a toy. To be used as the man saw it- all because he deserved it. Because he was nothing.
The man had taken him once.
He had found his freedom- and for a moment- a brief period of time, Andrew believed he could maybe find happiness again. He could maybe get better- and recover.
And then it was all stripped away once more.
Except now his friends were here too.
It wasn’t just his life he was sacrificing. It wasn’t just his body that was being tortured and beaten- it wasn’t just his mind that would be broken and shattered.
So as he heard Micah crying- as he saw the man towering over him- a- a gun, pressed to the side of his face and the pleas and begs of mercy that came from his friend- Andrew knew he had to do something.
“Please!” He had cried. “Please don’t- don’t hurt him.” He had said he’d do anything. Sacrifice himself- give up what little he had left- as long as his friend remained safe. But it had worked.
Tears leaked from Andrew’s eyes as he held the gun in between his teeth- his lips closed around the cool metal- his jaw aching after a few moments from the strain.
His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as fingers brushed over his body. He felt the man’s hand trail up the soft flesh of his stomach- fingering over the old stab wound as he explained what had happened. It trailed across the lines over his ribs that he had made with the knife- traveling up the line across his chest. The line that tore right down the middle- from where he had been carved open and patched back together from the inside out.
Andrew’s breath hitched as his wrists were grabbed and his back was turned.
He felt shame blush over his cheeks as the hands carded down his back. Trailing over every whip mark- every slash of the blade, every sign of a beating.
And then Micah was screaming.
Andrew couldn’t make out the words he was saying- but he could hear the pain, and the desperation in the other boy’s voice.
As Micah cried and shouted- Andrew could feel the shame- and the humiliation blossoming over his skin. His stomach churned- his face flushing and a sweat dripping more fiercely from his skin.
He knew the brand was sitting there- right in between his shoulders. It was all too painful of a reminder. It was a permanent reminder of who he belonged to.
Andrew heard a few things in the events that followed. There was a small conversation between Splice and Micah, that he couldn’t quite make out- a whispered plea- and then pain shot through his jaw.
He heard a loud bang- a strangled scream- a low whine- and then something was shoved in his mouth once more.
He felt a stream of spit down his chin as the familiar leather of the muzzle wrapped around his face. It took a minute to realize the whine was him- his jaw was on fire.
Another scream drew his attention away- and through his blurry tear-filled vision he saw spurts of blood on the floor- he could tell that was Justin on the ground-
He quickly put the events together and his stomach jumped in his throat- but the muzzle wouldn’t let anything get anywhere.
Splice could read Andrew’s thoughts through his eyes as he turned to look at the man.
“Oh don’t be so upset- it’s just his shoulder.” Splice stated. “Now, like I said- is anyone going to keep me from doing what I want?”
Andrew shook his head and the man turned towards Micah.
He shook his head lightly- and then he turned to Justin.
The boy was lying on his back, gripping his shoulder- trying not to writhe in pain as he grit his teeth.
“What about you- hmm?” The man taunted- coming to stand over top of the where the boy lay. “Are you gonna stay down- where you belong?”
“You- you bastard-” Justin groaned out. “You shot me!”
“Oh I’m well aware of that. But I won’t be tolerating anymore outbursts- or attempts at an attack- or anything similar, understand?”
“Go to hell-”
Splice shook his head- and placed his shoe on top of the wound- pressing down slightly.
Justin’s head slammed back into the floor with a crack and he gasped back a scream.
“Get- get off-” he wheezed. “-just stop– aaggh!”
Splice dug the heel of his shoe further into the wound- blood pooling underneath the boy as his head arched back in a scream.
The chains above Andrew’s arms where he hung rattled as he thrashed about. He could barely see or understand what was happening- but he could hear the screams.
“Stop it!” Micah yelled.
Justin was thrashing about from the pain- his face going white- and he let out a strangled gasp when the man finally let off.
“Alright- alright- I’ll let him bleed out naturally.” Splice held his hands in the air and Micah breathed a sigh of relief.
Justin glanced to where Ali was curled up on the floor- she was slightly shaking- arms wrapped tight around her head but she hadn’t moved or muttered a sound. Justin somehow managed to pull himself closer- reaching out a shaking hand to brush against her shoulder before he collapsed.
“Stop- please- for god’s sake-” Micah pleaded. “What do you want? What do you want from us?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The man laughed. “I want him. I have wonderful things planned, things that I already started to accomplish- when you all had to come in and interrupt. After all, I wasn’t expecting you all for at least another day.”
“What- what plan?” Micah mumbled. He needed to keep the man talking. The more that he talked- the less he could do to hurt anyone.
“Well, the first part is getting you all out of the way. You know, crush his hope and all chances of rescue.“ He chuckled to himself. "It seems like I already have two down, and you’re the only one left.” Splice knelt down in front of the boy- tilting his chin up with the tip of his finger. “So, how would you like to be taken out, hmm?”
Micah’s mind was racing. His heart lodged in his throat- his boyfri-best friend, was chained up- hanging by his arms in front of him. His only other help was unconscious or bleeding out.
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a flash of movement from behind the man. He didn’t look at it for long- not wanting to give anything away but he could feel Mickie’s presence. At least she was still here.
For her sake he wished she was at least able to escape- to save herself.
Micah’s eyes met the man in front of him.
“A knife, perhaps?” He stated. “I could cut you up into little pieces- or- or carve lines in your skin and watch you bleed out.” A thin- bony hand wrapped around the boy’s neck- resting right above the collar. Micah’s eyes grew wide. “Or I could strangle the air out of you until there’s nothing left. Leaving you gasping and struggling until your heart stops. How’s that sound?”
Micah’s mind was racing as the hand cinched tighter around his throat. He managed to focus on the man- and not the movement going on behind him. He had to keep his attention.
Splice dropped him to the floor- leaving him gasping. Unable to prop himself up with his hands behind his back, he lay on the ground- chest heaving for air.
“Or- or, and this one is my favorite. I could beat you.” Splice moved towards the cart and Micah held his breath- hoping Mickie would stay out of sight. The man picked up a small object and turned back towards the boy with the item poised in his hand. “How do you think you’d handle a whip, hmm?” He taunted. “How many hits before you begged for mercy, or for death?”
It cracked against the ground and Micah scrambled backwards with a soft yelp.
“This can make even the strongest men wail. On his first beating, he took about twenty lashes. Most of them after that were only ten- or fifteen. But, he could barely make it through nine to the backs of his legs this last time.”
Micah tried to push away that visual. He could already see all of the scars.
“What- what other options are there?” Micah asked.
“Pardon?”
“If you’re going to kill me, and I get a say in it- I’d like to know all my options.” Micah’s eyes darted back and forth between the man- the whip in his hand- and Mickie- who was inching closer towards Andrew. “I’m sure- I’m sure you can be a little more creative.”
Splice stepped back- almost as if he was offended.
“Oh- I have many ways to make you beg for mercy- to make you wish for death.” He picked up the boy’s face in his hand, forcing Micah high on his knees. “Let’s start with the knife though, shall we? And then we can explore our options from there.”
Micah saw the glint of the pocketknife before it could meet his skin. Before he could protest or say anything about the other options- it still had flecks of dried blood along the base and the handle- and the man twirled it around so effortlessly in his fingers.
“Well, it’s sure nice to have a clean slate. The challenge is where to start.” Splice taunted. He glanced at Andrew- a look of pain on his face- his eyes clenched shut- arms shaking. “You two sure make a cute couple, don’t you think?”
“Excuse me?” Micah looked towards Andrew- his face tilted towards the ceiling- sweat dripping off his pale skin.
“Quite a handsome pair. It’d be a shame if something ruined it, hmm?”
“What do yo-” His voice lodged in his throat as one hand wrenched his head backwards by his hair. He gasped- eyes wide towards the ceiling. “Please- no, I-”
His pleas were useless as he felt the tip of the blade against his skin.
Splice was an expert with the knife.
He knew where all the primary veins were. All the points that could make you bleed out in an instant- or lead to a slow and painful death.
As the knife slashed through Micah’s face, the man was careful to avoid his eye- instead starting at his temple and cutting down to his chin.
The boy screamed- blood swarming into his vision and pooling into his mouth. He gasped and crashed to the floor as the man let him fall.
“There we go-” The man taunted. “Now you’ll have some scars to match.”
Micah curled into himself- desperate to stem the bleeding or at least wipe it from his eyes but his hands were still restrained behind his back. He whimpered in frustration and pain- trying to pull himself back onto his knees.
“Why-” A small voice piped up. It was Justin- his voice breathy and weak through the pain. “-why do you feel the need to hurt everyone?”
“Excuse me?”
“What are you compensating for?” He had managed to prop himself up on an elbow- his good arm sustaining his weight as he glared up at the man- a bit of his pale hair falling into his eyes.
Splice stood for a moment, staring across the room to the wall behind the boy. He slowly wiped the blood off of his knife on the edge of his sleeve, and then a slight smirk came over his face.
“Why?” He tilted his head up. “Hmm? You ask why, or what I’m compensating for. Funny thing is, I could ask you all the same thing.
Why do you feel the need to constantly try to prove yourself? Knowing you’ll never be good enough for you father, his company, or his money?” The man stood in front of where Justin was- his body visibly shaking. He tilted his chin up with the tip of the knife. “How does it feel knowing that that’s all you’re good for? That they only keep you around for your money, hmm?”
“That- that’s not true- you don’t-”
“How do you know she hasn’t brainwashed you, hmm? That she isn’t controlling you just to get to your father’s funds?”
“No- she wouldn’t-”
“Well of course, you wouldn’t know if you were being brainwashed, would you?” The man moved to stand over the girl’s limp body.
“Shut up- you don’t- you don’t know her-” Justin’s breathing was getting more ragged with every word.
“Well, probably not like you do, but I know enough. I mean look at her, she’s useless. Didn’t even get a chance to put up a fight.” The man chuckled as Justin shook- trying desperately to use what little strength he had to fight back. “It’s pathetic really, she should be the most powerful, and here she is-” he nudged her in the side with the tip of his shoe. She lay still.
“Leave her alone!” The boy screamed. He lunged at the man- catching him by the ankles. The man stumbled a bit before Justin crashed back to the ground.
“Oh will you be quiet!” The man screamed. He kicked Justin hard in the side, sending him reeling. The boy shrieked as his shoulder crashed into the ground- blood leaking steadily from his wound. Splice sighed, and pushed a button on his little remote.
Justin’s head slammed back into the ground- his eyes rolling backwards as he gasped for air. The shocks wreaked their havoc through his body until he was finally able to scream- letting out a heaving breath. But then they picked up once more. He kept the control on a steady rhythm- leaving Justin writhing in agony for a moment, and then finally letting him breathe for a few seconds before the electricity started up again.
Splice turned to look back at Micah with a chuckle- his eyes peeked out from underneath the blood- sweat, and hair that matted his face. “Honestly, the only person I can think of that’s more pathetic is his sister. After all, she’s got the same potential little Carrot Top over here does, and yet she didn’t even bother to come to his rescue. What, was she scared?”
“Don’t- don’t underestimate her-” Micah chuckled.
“What, what is she going to do? I mean she practically cowered behind the rest of them the first time we met. Didn’t even try to help.”
“She’s stronger- than- than you think.”
Splice laughed shaking his head. He knelt in front of Micah and held out the remote- selecting the option for Micah’s collar. He hooked a finger underneath, holding the boy up as he winced- the small prongs digging further into the back of his neck.
“She may be strong, but are you?”
Micah screamed. His back arched and his wrists tugged on the chains tying them behind him. He fell backwards in the man’s grasp- held slightly above the ground by his throat.
“You- you bi-”
“Ah- ah- language now.” Splice cut him off with a hand over his mouth- smearing the blood that had soaked his lips and chin.
Micah cursed and screamed behind the man’s hand- his body spasming with the shocks.
“Should I turn it up?”
Micah shook his head furiously- he curled his legs in towards his chest as Splice dropped him onto his back.
“Good. Now be a good boy, or I’ll set off their collars as well.” Splice stood up and turned towards Andrew as he spoke. “As fun as that would be for little Andy, I don’t think-”
Splice stopped- glancing at the ground where he had set the gun- and then up at Andrew. The boy’s face was even more pale- he looked nearly unconscious- but the chains he had been hanging from were lowered- his feet dragging against the floor.
He turned around frantically, back to Micah- to Justin- who were both still writhing in pain- the shocks coursing through their bodies.
“He’s right you know-” Mickie stated. Splice turned towards the sound. “You shouldn’t underestimate me.”
And then a loud bang exploded throughout the room.
- - -
Tag List: @imagination1reality0, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @thehopelessopus,@burtlederp,@whump-me-all-night-long@laves-here@yesthisiswhump@myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19@brutal-nemesis@lunaabsentee @morning-star-whump
seapeekay stimboard for a fictroject with the colour orange, red and black
Thanks for being patient! I like how this one turned out :)
.❤️.
.❤️.
-️Tord
DNI: (pro)endos, anti-mogai, alt-right, bigots, disrespectful singlets, NSFW/18+, etc! Carrd w/ extended dni.
Punk Dog stimboard
Chica <33
.❤️.
.❤️.
-Matt (ew fictroject/fictant)
DNI: (pro)endos, anti-mogai, alt-right, bigots, disrespectful singlets, NSFW/18+, etc! Carrd w/ extended dni.
And Ghost Dog stimboard!!!
boop :]
-Matt (ew fictroject/fictant)
DNI: (pro)endos, anti-mogai, alt-right, bigots, disrespectful singlets, NSFW/18+, etc! Carrd w/ extended dni.
A stimboard for an anonymous Matt (Eddsworld) fictive with red, purple, soft things and vampirey-aesthetics!
Don’t tag as kin/id/me!
-Matt & ️Pest
DNI: (pro)endos, anti-mogai, alt-right, bigots, disrespectful singlets, NSFW/18+, etc! Carrd w/ extended dni.
A stimboard of Dr Habit from Smile For Me for @zekrom-system!
-Matt (ew fictroject/fictant)
DNI: (pro)endos, anti-mogai, alt-right, bigots, disrespectful singlets, NSFW/18+, etc! Carrd w/ extended dni.
hiiii bit of a hard one if that’s okay. my name is ben and i am a fictive of the puppeteer from off (game) and i would love a stimboard of strings based stims if that’s okay? neon blue if i can. thank you so much · @hottopicsys
Errrrr. I tried my best for this one, I couldn’t really find a faceclaim or anything- but I hope you like this anyway ^^“
-Matt (ew fictroject/fictant)
DNI: (pro)endos, anti-mogai, alt-right, bigots, disrespectful singlets, NSFW/18+, etc! Carrd w/ extended dni.
quick someone ask me what I’d name my magical knife if I had a magical knife
Okay I’ll bite what would you name your magical knife
Stabrina
What about stabitha?
Stabpunzel
Stabigail
