Tw Torture - Blog Posts

Ash watched the target closely as he went into the bar. She stood on the roof of the four-story office-building across the street, hidden in the dark of the night. She was dressed practically, in simple clothing – black jeans, a dark grey t-shirt, a leather jacket – her purple hair tied back behind her head. At her feet was a black biker’s helmet. At her right ear was a Bluetooth earpiece.

She needed neither binoculars nor night-vision to see clearly in the night; she was Damphyr, the child of one afflicted with vampirism. Beings without most of their progenitors’ strengths, but the few gifts they possess by comparison makes them far greater than humans. Durability, speed and enhanced senses are their hallmark, but the gifts come at a cost. The cost of human blood. A Damphyr can survive on the blood of animals for a time, but they are required to drink the blood of a living human with disturbing and increasing frequency.

For now, she needed only once a month or so. But as her years of life wore on into centuries she would need to feed weekly or even daily. She pondered this as she watched the bar.

“Ash!” buzzed her earpiece. Focusing back in to the present, she barked an answer to the microphone on her lapel. “What, Vesh?”

Vesh responded, “I can see you from here. Stop zoning out! We need you to watch the door. If the target is meeting one of the nine, we’ll need to be able to act at a moment’s notice. You’re our surveillance.”

“If you wanted surveillance, you should have gotten a van,” Ash cracked.

“Who needs a van when you have the sharpest eyes this side of the globe?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Ash quipped, as she noticed something off with the bar. The sounds of violence were emanating from within, which would not have troubled her unduly were it not for the scent. Her sense of smell was arguably her weakest, but there are some scents she could never miss. The scent of blood, the scent of a damphyr, and, strongest of all, the scent of a vampire.

Vampires are rare creatures; few in number and rare to reproduce. They make up for it in unholy might; a single vampire could lay waste to a small city in a single night. But they tend to occupy their time with petty power struggles between each other and attempts to control large swathes of territory. Their servants, known as Revenants, were humans vested with some of their power. Weaker still than even damphyr, Revenants were slow to age and stronger than mortals.

But the scent of a vampire was what Ash smelled now. How she had missed it for so long was beyond her, but it was clear now. The smell was difficult to define – somewhere between a rotting corpse and a rose, soaked in blood. A smell of beautiful decay.

“Vesh, we need to move. Now.”

“Got it. I’ll get the back entrance. You cover the front.”

“Got it.”

Ash jumped from her perch, flipping from headfirst to a pencil dive and landing on the pavement, cracking it. She was unharmed by the tumble, she got up and charged the door as a man was thrown bodily from the window. Or rather, a corpse. Its head was twisted and nearly torn off, a look of agony on its face. Its limbs were twisted as if it had been tortured, but knowing what lay inside, she understood that it had happened within seconds.

She took a second to spit on the corpse. A fool who had been bargaining with a vampire for extended life. But the artifact that he had found was too powerful. His contact with it made him a liability, not an ally.

She charged the door, knocking it off of its hinges. Inside, an unwelcome sight greeted her. Revenants, a dozen of them, were feasting on the corpses of the erstwhile bar-goers. A couple were holding onto the bouncer by the arms, one drinking from his carotid and another on the opposite side, who had chewed through to his aorta.

They all looked up at her, with bestial glares. Damphyr blood was poison to them, but they were bound to their master’s will, and would be more than happy to kill her.

She reached into her coat and pulled out a long dagger – something caught between shortsword and knife in size, but finely wrought all the same, of some strange, silvery metal. She whispered the invocation. “Carnwennan, feoht for mec, innan thone ciegnes Arthorius.”

The blade sheathed itself in shadow, its magic enhancing her accuracy, speed and strength.

Moving faster than the creatures could even fathom, she had already drove the dagger through three of the creatures’ chests, piercing their hearts before they could even draw breath. “Eallgrene sealt adfyr.”

Green flame ripped its way through the creatures anew, burning their flesh and reducing them to ash faster than should have been physically faster. Continuing, she made quick work of the others, and had destroyed the bodies of those who had died. Little evidence remained, and the magical fire did not burn the objects in the room. She breathed, for the first time since entering the place. “You alright?” asked Vesh, through the earpiece.

“…Yes.”

“Good. Nothing on my end. I’ll meet up with you at the basement doors.”

They had gone through the blueprints for the building before the strike. There was a basement, prohibition era, that led down into the sewer. They had guessed the vampire would use this route to escape after putting down the ‘livestock’.

She went over to behind the bar, went into the backroom, and took the short hallway to the back room, where she Vesh was waiting.

Vesh wasn’t damphyr, nor was she human. She was a Nephilim, the long-lost bloodline of angels. Moreover, her bloodline was the (in)direct descent from King (well, queen, but that’s another story) Arthur. She wasn’t all that much stronger than a normal human, until the bloodline was used in conjunction with an Arthurian one. Ash’s weapon was one, the bloodline only enhancing the weapon’s traits, not granting ones on their own.

But Vesh was more powerful in her own way. For she wielded two weapons – Rhongomiant, an ancient spear, and Clarent, the coward’s blade. With their power, she could take down many opponents with little effort – but at a cost. The two could only be wielded in conjunction for a short time, or she would burn up.

Vesh was breathing heavily, her sword sheathed and her spear at her back. “You okay?” asked the (suitably) concerned Ash.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“There’s no shame in turning back,” warned Ash.

“Yes, there is.”

“Okay, only a little,” conceded Ash.

“I’m not going to sit back and let you hog all the glory. Here,” said Vesh, holding out a thermos.

“I’m not thirsty,” protested Ash.

“Yeah, you are.” Said Vesh, gesturing with the thermos. “You didn’t’ have any blood at breakfast, and I’ve been keeping eye on your little freezer down in the basement. You haven’t touched it in going on a week and a half. Drink.”

Ash could smell the blood, and hunger snarled deep within her stomach. But at the same time, a foul disgust was creeping through her. “No.”

“You’ve got to drink sometime. Please. You need it.”

Vesh hold the thermos close to Ash’s face.

“I said no, damn it!” Ash shouted, batting the thermos out of Vesh’s hand and to the ground. Warmed blood spilled across the ground.

Vesh became more concerned. “Ash…”

Ash was stumbling away from the spilled blood, retching at the smell, reaching a corner and throwing up blackened bile. “We need to follow the vampire.” She coughed out, between dry heaves.

“You’re in no condition to fight a vampire. We can turn back – we can get more…”

Ash shook her head. “Don’t say it.”

“Damn it, Ash. You need to drink. You don’t think I’ve noticed you? You don’t sleep anymore. You can barely get down food, and blood… you barely touch it unless you’re desperate. This isn’t healthy. I’m here for you.”

Ash shook her head. “We have to go on. I know… I know this vampire.”

“What? You can differentiate between vampiric bloodlines now? Are… are you certain?”

“I know this one well. This one is…” she trailed off, and began to make her way down the stairs.

--- A Year and a Half Prior ---

Ash was chained to the floor of the cell, her interrogator standing above her. Throwing down a lukewarm blood transfusion bag, he kicked her in the stomach. “Drink, half-blood.”

“F… fuck you…”

He kneeled down, grabbing her by the back of the head, and held her mouth open. Kicking the bloodbag aside, causing it to leak across the ground towards the drain in the center of the room, he gestured to the door. A man stepped in, carrying with him a bound and gagged teenage boy. The boy kicked and screamed as he was dragged into the room. The man carrying him drew a wicked-looking hunting knife, and drew it across the boy’s throat in a swift, decisive motion. The boy was gurgling his last breaths as blood poured from the wound. The interrogator turned Ash’s face up as the other man put the boy’s throat to her open lips, blood pouring into her mouth, her nose, most spilling but some she felt going down her throat.

--- Present Day ---

They were making their way down the stairs in sullen silence when they heard it. The scratching, the skittering, the sound of rats, moving around them in the dark. Ash closed her eyes, her breathing becoming ragged. Vesh took the lead, and motioned for Ash to sit down for a moment. She whispered in her ear. “I’ll be back in just a few seconds. Wait.”

The sounds of blades being drawn and of the screeching of rats. Finally, Ash heard the words, “Eallgrene sealt adfyr.” A bright flash of green, and nothing else. “You can open your eyes now.”

They continued on their way.

--- A Year and a Half Prior ---

Ash was blindfolded as she was led into the room and tied to the chair. It was a cold, study thing of wood. Chained at the ankles and the wrists, weakened from blood deprivation, she struggled against the chains until she was exhausted. She heard him, chuckling and chiding. “Is the little girl tired? Poor little girl…”

“Maybe the girl needs some friends. Yes, maybe some furry friends.”

She heard the sound of blade against sheath as he drew a knife, and felt it as he drew thick lines every few inches down her wrist and thigh. Blood slicked her skin as he stepped back, and whistled.

It was then she heard them. Skittering across the rafters, across the floor. Ash felt it as they fell onto her body, and tried to throw them off, but they kept piling on. She screamed as they bit into her flesh. She screamed and the man laughed.

--- Present Day ---

The hallway was sparsely lit with dangling, electric lights as they continued on their way. The form of the hallway was made of brick and wood, with a floor of cement. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” asked Vesh.

“I’m fine,” responded Ash, a little too quickly, having been waiting for the question.

“Ash… for gods’ sakes…”

Ash drew Carnwennan, and began the invocation again. The blade sheathed itself in shadow. “I’m fine.”

They reached the end of the hallway, and they saw it.

Sitting in the center of the room was a finely-wrought silver casket, surrounded on all sides by human bodies, blood splattered against the walls. Not catching her breath in time, Ash smelled the blood, assailing from all sides. Gagging, she began the purification invocation to cleanse the room with fire. “Eallgrene sealt adfyr.”

The room flashed green as fire consumed the corpses, leaving ash behind.

“What is this thing?” said Vesh, looking at the coffin.

“An artifact of great power, so they say. The coffin of the progenitors. Capable of bringing a vampire to an almost godlike state.”

“And capable of purifying the blood of a damphyr, my pet,” came a voice from the shadows.

They turned. Ash gasped. “You… you’re dead. I killed you…”

The interrogator stepped forward. “Only a spear of ash and silver can kill a vampire, as you well know.”

Gesturing to a stitched-shut scar around his throat, he laughed. “All you did was offend my vanity.”

He walked forward, touching the coffin with an outstretched arm. “You hurt me, running away like you did. All I wanted was what’s best for you, after all, little cousin.”

He held out his open arms to Ash. “Come to me, pet, I will take you with me and make you my immortal lover.”

Ash held Carnwennan at the ready, taking a step back. Her stance was nearly broken by her shaking.

“Come here, girl, I will hurt you no longer.”

Vesh stepped forward. “Enough.”

Drawing spear and sword, spear at the ready stance, sword ready to guard against blows, Vesh charged, speed and strength enhanced by the magic. The man just jumped out of the way.

“You’ll have to try harder than that to kill me, child. I am a vampire, not some weak-blooded mockery or halfblood pretender.”

Vesh struck with speed and strength, with each strike gaining more momentum and hitting faster. She felt her muscles burn as she fought him, but he dodged each blow with almost nonchalant ease. Growing tired of this, he grabbed the spear by the shaft and struck quickly, knocking the sword aside and biting deeply into her forearm. Vesh let out a cry of pain, as he threw her backwards.

Ash couldn’t stand still anymore. Half frozen in fear while Vesh struck, she steeled herself and struck. The interrogator laughed. “You can’t harm me any more now than you could then, girl.”

Before she could strike his flesh he dodged under the blow and slammed into her, sending her flying across the room, landing next to Vesh.

He crossed the room to where Ash lay, and grabbed her by the throat. “Your blood will fuel my power,” he said, biting into her throat. She felt herself being drained. After a couple moments, he pulled away, lips slick with blood.

“Watch, now, as I ascend to godhood,” he stated, wiping off his lips, opening the coffin. Inside was black velvet. Ripping off his shirt, he lied back into the coffin as the lid closed automatically.

A hissing sound like hydraulic sealing could be heard as the coffin closed.

“Ash,” said Vesh, trying to get closer to her, coughing up blood from broken ribs, unable to move her legs. Ash lay unconscious. Vesh took her wounded arm and put it over Ash’s lips, letting blood drip into her mouth. Still not conscious, Ash’s mouth instinctively bit into Vesh’s arm, draining blood. Vesh grimaced against the pain, but it was not in vain.

Ash awoke, her body repairing itself faster for the blood. She felt a surge of power from her blood, from Vesh’s blood, as Vesh faded out of consciousness.

The coffin opened just as Ash arose, holding Carnwennan and Clarent at the ready. The blood of Arthur she had drunk felt like fire rising in her veins as she spoke in the old tongue. “Cier asprungennes, Vampire.”

Her enemy had changed. Like some monstrous bat, his features had twisted into a vile mockery of the living. His fangs had grown and his teeth grown sharp. He growled.

They did battle, moving faster than sound, booms echoing off the halls. She dodged blow after blow, dealing small wounds bit by bit. Eventually, he failed – mis-stepping, he was impaled on the blades.

“This cannot kill me, whelp. I will return to hunt you. I will return to end you.”

“I know,” said Ash. “But next time, I will not hesitate. In the meantime, let’s see how well you can reform from my namesake. Eallgrene sealt adfyr.”

Flames engulfed him as he screamed in agony, burning as Ash gathered the weapons, picked up Vesh, and began to return up the stairs.

Story Shard 543

You know what I want? I want a Bad Ass Female Super Hero who is afraid of something small and cliche, like bugs or mice, but whose compatriots don’t make fun of her for it. They just step up and take care of the things she can’t. And her fear does not make her any less bad ass it just makes her human.

"He Taught Me That the Hand That Feeds Deserves to be Bitten When it Beats"

-The Hand That Feeds By The Crane Wives

Alternatively!

Corporate Greed Strikes Again

TWs: Corporate Greed, Kidnapping, Human Experimentation, Torture, Violence, Blood, starvation

Danny was running away, it was getting to dangerous in Amity for him to stay. There were new rogues every other day getting more and more powerful as they popped up. The GIW had gotten even more competent in their weapons making, but not in their situational awareness. Just the last week, he had gotten shot at least seven times keeping civilians safe.

For the safety of everyone in Amity, it was bet for him to leave.

For good.

So he packed a bag, made sure there were no current loose ghost, made sure no one was inside Fenton Works, and then promptly blew up the portal with a modified ghost shield to keep the damage to a minimum. Unlike others, he was well aware of where people were and how the could be killed.

So now that everyone thought him dead, he ran. To where? He didn't know. But he needed a pit stop somewhere to get some food. Danny landed on the roof of a building reaching for a map he had stored somewhere in his bag. Shuffling things around he couldn't seem to find it.

"Damn, must've dropped it," Danny muttered. Turning, he only got a second to look at the blur coming for him, but then Danny only knew darkness.

---------------

Danny runs away when theres more and more causalities in Amity. He blew up Fenton Works while inside to make it seem like he died, and to those that did know about Phantom, dead dead.

He makes pit stops, and at one point accidentally cuts himself as Phantom and leaves not knowing there was ecto left behind.

A scientist about to get fired from some big corp trying to get green/clean energy stumbles upon it, and thinks its his big break.

Soon he had the entire company board on board with his idea, no matter that it could be breaking meta laws and could get them all life in prison.

The hunt for the unsuspecting meta, one Danny Phantom, was on.

And then when the bounty hunters, somehow getting their hands on ecto weapons (Maybe the GIW donated them? Maybe they had commissioned them from the Fentons? who knows) get a ping of his location? They sent their best hunter and got poor Danny.

Danny soon wakes up and realizes that "Oh no, where am I?!"

He soon learns that is the least of his worries.

Danny is then tortured, and the people soon realize he has a human side, so they quickly modify the ghost chains to make sure he stays a ghost.

He then Bites a guard and is then muzzled.

The Big Corp soon starts draining him of his ecto while trying to figure out how his body produces it

After all, he who controls the supply controls the market

So while Danny can't turn back into a human, in a low ecto rich environment, and constantly being drained of what fuels his ghostly body, he begins to feel the effects of starvation, because "Ghost are dead, they don't need human shit." and quote.

Well Danny was a special lil halfa and needed food in order to fucking survive

Soon, his hazmat suit starts to become baggy, not fitting anymore and it slowly progress until his eyes start to become clear, becoming the pure ecto green of his flesh in blindness, his bodies way of trying to conserve enough energy until he can get out.

The scientist, seeing the green eyes immediately rip one out, wanting to see if his eyes had a more concentrated ecto that they could use. They quickly learn, no, its clear and has little to no ecto.

Danny's voice has stopped working a long time ago at this point.

The Bats then notice a once failing Clean energy company suddenly thrive.

They investigate and are disturbed to realize that they are using a purified Lazarus water as the main fuel.

They then hunt down the source building and sneak into it, trying to find the source

Bruce is then distracted, going down a heavily guarded hallway unnoticed.

He opens what could only be a vault door, then peering through a black netting with a green sheen, he see's Danny.

What happens after that? Idk but if someone wants to pick up they can :D

———————

Tbh its been a hot min since ive actually drawn smth so im a lil out of practice lol.

Anyways i wanna thank the besties (gender neutral) in the Batphantom Club House discord for giving me songs to put on the list 🤗

I needed smth to make the brain worms go brr and so im making my way through the list.

The songs on the list help me catch a prompt for a drawing, and, well a prompt lmao, whether its the lyrics or the rhythm or overall vibes lol.

Home

Home

Spider was never meant to find Home 

He knows that. No matter what Kiri whispers to him, what Lo’ak insists when the young warriors of the Omatikaya attempt to chase him off, or what Neteyam mumbles when Neytiri whips around with venom on her lips - he knows it, because if it were wrong, it would mean that everything that’s happened was for no reason. He can’t go that route, and so Home is just a concept he’ll never know 

His siblings tempt to sway him many times over the years - they feel so much like Home it hurts, but he’s not so selfish to risk it for them when he knows he already took it from their mother 

He’s seen his father in the photos the scientists don’t know he has, video logs that show a man that’s only been a horror story his whole life 

But what scares him is he sees himself 

He sees his eyes, the scowl when he’s angry, the cinch in his brow. He scowls at the image and sees his own face stare back. 

So yeah. He doesn’t have a home. He has siblings though, and that’s more than he deserves. So Spider is okay. Really, he is.

But then his Dad shows up 

—- 

Quaritch is everything he thought he’d be and…not. 

He’s angry. The man is full of hate and a need for revenge. He destroys the ground beneath his feet and spits on the life that’s surround them. He doesn’t know Ewya but he hates her none the less. 

But he’s protective. Possessive of what’s his (and yet another damn thing he got from his father) and it seems Spider is included in that

He hates it but a part of him feels protected - it’s safe in the that’s holding a poison blade is. He’s one slip up from hell 

But hell was bridgehead. It was the feeling of his deepest parts being pried out and displayed like the pages of a storybook 

No one cared as they saw some of his best and his darkest days. 

No one cared when the whips came out. When he bled so much he worried it was fatal 

No one cared when he starved, when the distant sound of wildlife made his stomach twist with need. 

Except Quaritch. 

Quaritch snuck him food, bandaged his back, and pulled him down. 

His hands may have delivered some of the blows or his lips produced the words to trigger nightmares but he cared. 

Love is complicated, but he knows his Dad loved him

He thinks he may have too 

Quaritch saw him. 

He didn’t know. He thought he did but he didn’t but he wanted to he knows he did - 

Then Neteyam almost dies. No one came for him. They left him, gave him up, except his brothers didn’t 

Neteyam and Lo’ak fought for him. 

They risked their lives when they had the chance to get away

Spider pieces his home together after that

Home finds him in the nights after when he rests with Kiri on his shoulder and Lo’ak’s hand loose in his grip. Tuk is curled into her mothers chest and Jake stands a silent guard at the door. Neteyam is flat on the bed of one of Ronal’s medical tents. His brother has been asleep for a few hours now with Norms assistance, but his family is too afraid to leave his side

He’s been awake the whole time. He hurts in ways he didn’t know he could until his capture but the warmth of his closest friends is too precious to loose right now. Still, he can’t sleep. Adrenaline is running under his skin and anxiety is inching up his throat. Jake is outside, safe and strong, but his tracker could lead the rest of the sky people here again, never mind Norms tempering, or his memories could have a clue, they had to be recorded, or - 

Jake lays a large hand on his shoulder. 

He jumps and a scared gasp escapes his throat before he processes the subtle differences. The thinner fingers, callouses Quaritch hasn’t had time to form yet, the gentleness. 

“You need to sleep, Kiddo.”

Spider shudders and bows his head. “I will, just…can’t. I’ll go lay down in a few hours. When they’re okay.”

He can practically hear Jake roll his eyes. “I’m here. You’re safe, they’re safe. You need to sleep, Son.” 

They both freeze, blood cold and eyes wide, as the silence envelops them.

Then, of course, Lo’ak snores and the moments gone. Jake laughs softly and suddenly exhaustion is pulling at his eyelids. A cushion slides behind him and a hand gently lowers him down. 

“Sleep.” 

The pieces come faster after that.

He cries with Kiri for hours. Laments his father, spills everything he felt. She’s the first one he tells the truth too. She knows more than he thinks anyone else ever will 

He tells her Quaritch is alive. He tells her its all his fault.

She cries, yells, and then they just lay there. She tells him how scared she was of her mother. How lost she felt without him there. 

He looks at her as she cries and another puzzle piece slides into place

Lo’ak and Neteyam came together when they came back for him, but it doesn’t feel settled until later. 

They’re on their ilu with Spider behind Lo’ak as they race out to meet Payakan. He’s giant and beautiful and damn terrifying, but Lo’ak describes him as his soul brother. An extension of himself and a badass of a friend. They tell him how Payakan saved them. How he helped get Spider home

He’s scared and excited and now sure what to make of the beast, but then Lo’ak is leaving him on the ilu and falling into the water 

He rises on a fin the size of a small marui with a loud whoop that can’t help but make Spider laugh in astonished awe 

“Paya, meet my other brother, Spider.” Then a wave of water is splashing over him as Lo’ak laughs in a way he hasn’t heard since the forest 

His breath leaves his lungs as he laughs and laughs, happy for more reasons than one. Neteyam meets his gaze from across the surf and smiles then one quick nod. He holds his gaze and feels the warmth spread in his chest. 

“Team up?”

“Team up.”

Tuk has been his little sister since he held her in his arms for the first time. Neteyam snuck him over when they were barely into puberty and put a baby the size of his torso into his arms 

He remembers her being the most terrifying thing in the world. He was so sure she would be terrified of him, that he would make her cry as soon as she was in his arms and the other kids would realize he’s a monster 

But Tuk has always been Tuk and she just grinned and pulled his hair. Her Tswin fluttered with her affections and he knew he would do anything for her 

He had never seen her angry, truly angry, until she stumbled into him cleaning the cuts along his hips and back. The cloths on the floor are bloody and his skin is angry and mottled but he had been decent at hiding the level of it until now. Behind her, Neytiri stops in her tracks as she takes in his scars 

Tuk’s eyes fill with tears and then he has a bundle of 5’7” child in his arms 

Her eyes flash and she looks like her mother when she growls out; “What happened? They hurt you?” 

He stutters, not knowing what to say when Neytiri kneels down in front of him. She takes the ointment and the bandages in front of him, moves his arm from his side, and begins to apply. Her hands are shaking and he realizes he’s never seen her frazzled 

“You’re a child.” 

He looks up, Tuk now angrily crying in his arms while she cleans and gently bandages the wounds. “I..I know…look, I’m sorry Tuk saw, I-I didn’t think anyone was coming back for a while..” 

“You’re a child. Children are precious. I-I didn’t realize they…that…” She scowls down at the drying blood and puts the wrap down. She pulls him forward so he rests against her with Tuk snug between them. “I’m sorry, Spider. This will not happen again.” 

His face is red and words don’t seem to work but he manages a scared nod. “O-Okay?” 

She nods, decisive, and resumes her work. Then, lifts a dirty dread with a disgruntled finger. “These next. My children will not be seen looking uncared for.” 

And that’s that. He has a family, a home, and it’s all he ever wanted. 

He doesn’t think it could get better. 

Part two coming cause holy shit it's 2000 words

"My son was tortured by separatists (those who believe Donbas and Crimea are russian). His documents were handed over to the International Criminal Court in The Hague. Inhumans carved a kolovrat on his face." - mother of the soldier of the Armed Forces of Ukraine Ivan Isyk.

A month after his death, the body of 30-year-old Ivan was given to his parents.

An autopsy performed by Ukrainian doctors revealed that his internal organs had been cut out and later sewn back into his body. A piece of the Ukrainian flag was found in his throat, and brain fragments were found in his stomach. And Ivan Isyk, who was still alive, had a kolovrat carved on his cheek (the symbol of the "Rusich" battalion, where maniacs Petrovsky and another ghoul named Milchakov served.)

This photo shows Russian neo-Nazi Yan Petrovsky, who was arrested by Finland in July 2023:

We must never forget that back in 2014, the Ukrainian Hero, a simple boy from Drohobych IVAN ISYK, died at the cost of his life with a terrible death":

Whump ABC #23 - Whipped

Based on the results of this poll.

_

Whumpee's hands shake from pain and exhaustion and henchman rips their shirt apart, revealing their back. Exposed to whumper, whumpee closes their eyes when they hear them walk closer.

Warm hands touch their cold skin, leaving goosebumps on their way. They hear whumper scoff, who bows down so their mouth is right next to whumpee's ear.

"Your old scars will be nothing against what is about to follow," they coo and walk back again, whumpee bracing themself for the pain that comes with the crack of the whip.

The burning sensation makes them grunt, but it's not enough to make them scream. Again and again, the thundering crack rings in whumpee's ears, hot blood running down their back now.

Whumpee's body shakes from pain, their mind racing, wanting it to stop. Barely holding onto consciousness, whumpee coughs and closes their eyes. The whip licks at their skin another time.