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criminol · 3 years

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The Murder and Torture of Kelly Anne Bates

Trigger warning: Torture of a young victim

Kelly Anne Bates was a British teenager from Manchester, England. Her parents remember her as a mature and bubbly girl who was friendly with an 'older crowd.'

James Patterson Smith was an unemployed divorcee whose marriage had broken down due to violence. He had a history of beating and abusing his ex-partners and had attempted to kill his 15-year-old ex-girlfriend by drowning her.

In 1993, Smith, 48, met Kelly Bates, who was 14-years-old at the time, while she was babysitting. He began grooming Kelly. When Kelly left school 2 years later, she moved in with Smith hiding the age difference from her parents. Smith also concealed his real name from Kelly's parents. Kelly's mum described the hairs on the back of her neck standing up when she met Smith and how she tried 'everything she could to get Kelly Anne away from him.' Her parents noticed bruises which Kelly claimed were from accidents and grew increasingly worried by her withdrawn behaviour. By the time Kelly was 16, she had stopped seeing her family altogether. In March 1996, Kelly's parents received cards for their anniversary and a birthday but only Smith had written in them. When Kelly's brother tried to go and see her, Smith stated she was not at home when a concerned neighbour asked about her, she was briefly shown at an upstairs window.

On 16th April 1996, Smith reported his girlfriend had accidentally died in the bathtub, claimed he had attempted resuscitation and that she often pretended to be unconscious. Police went to Smith's address and found Kelly's naked body in the bedroom, her blood was found throughout the house and her post-mortem examination showed over 150 injuries on her body. During the last month of her life, she had been kept bound, sometimes tied by her hair, to a radiator or furniture. Kelly's eyes had been gauged out and completely removed 'not less than five days and not more than three weeks before her death,' she had lost 20kg in weight and had not received water for several days before her death. She had burns scalding, multiple stab wounds, mutilation, partial scalping, her empty eye sockets had been stabbed, a fractured arm and other horrific injuries. The prosecutor in the trial said "It was as if he deliberately disfigured her, causing her the utmost pain, distress and degradation ... The injuries were not the result of one sudden eruption of violence; they must have been caused over a long period [and] were so extensive and so terrible that the defendant must have deliberately and systematically tortured the girl." Kelly's cause of death was strangling and she had been beaten over the head with the showerhead just before her death. Her death was described as a 'merciful end to her torment.' Kelly's injuries were described by the pathologist as the worst he had ever seen, she was just 17 when she died.

Smith denied murdering Kelly and claimed she had taunted him and dared him to do it, this was described as a 'distorted reality' by a consultant psychiatrist. A jury found Smith guilty of the murder and was sentenced to life imprisonment. Jury members were provided with professional counselling to help them deal with the distress of seeing Kelly's injuries and the trauma of hearing about the violence inflicted on the young girl.

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 33

Synopsis: Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, and everything seems to be going well. In fact, their life nearly becomes perfection; no more bullies, better grades, and a lot less stress. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems and that Lyrem has been hiding a very dark, and troubling secret…

taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror & @livingforthewhump

CW: blood, organs exposed, bodily mutilation, torture, gore, not for the faint of heart..

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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

From outside the dining hall, Arch was pacing and shaking their hands out of nervousness with a fresh apron on. They were about to remove Lyrem’s heart. Lyrem’s.

They liked Lyrem. They understood that he was dead. Paimon had to remind them of that fact, since he seemed so alive in Paimon’s realm. The removal of his heart would be a symbolic gesture. Nothing more. The so-called demon compared it to a rite-of-passage, citing the history that Lyrem had with the removal of his father’s heart when he was first working with Paimon. It was just the natural way to do business in Paimon’s mind. Lyrem always knew this day would come. That knowledge comforted Arch to a certain extent, and explained why Lyrem wanted Arch to run. He had gotten cold feet about giving up his position and didn’t want to give his whole self to his work after all.

Arch tried the door. It was still locked. Paimon said he would retrieve them when everything was ready but Arch just couldn’t seem to wait for much longer. They just wanted to get it all over with.

Their fingers fiddled with the buttons on the discman, starting the Peasants, Pigs, and Astronauts album from the beginning. Finally, they heard Paimon clicking his hooves from down the hall. He held up a black blindfold.

“Here?” Arch scrunched their face. “Now? I thought I’d be able to talk to Lyrem before we started”-

Paimon spun them around and placed the cloth over their face.

“Lyrem betrayed me by trying to take you away,” he replied, tying the knot tightly in the back. “And for that, he has lost the privilege of using his tongue for the next five minutes. Don’t worry, he’ll still be capable of speech after you’re finished with him. Alright.”

He spun them around again, and prevented Arch from playing with the blindfold with a quick removal of their hand from their face. Paimon flicked his eyes nervously towards the door, and then looked back.

“Now, timing is everything, sweet thing, so do whatever you need to, to remove his heart. There might be distractions, or you may get nervous, but as long as you do this, then you will never need to return to Earth the way you left it. You can be free to recreate yourself once again with Lyrem’s blessing and under my guidance.”

Arch blinked beneath the blindfold, hearing the rush to his voice.

“Are you nervous?” They inquired after a pause.

“No. Not at all.”

Arch didn’t believe that for a second. Their ability to detect bullshit was heightened at the placement of the blindfold. It bothered them that they could not see anymore.

“Now, we’ll start the music first. You can put your headphones on,” Paimon briefly instructed. “Take your time to get started. Once the first incision is made, I’ll time your progress. Understand?”

Arch nodded, placing the headphones over their ears. The speakers even without music were dense enough to prevent any sound from interfering. They pressed play.

A hand gripped theirs- Paimon’s, leading them forward, straight through the door. There was a momentary pause where Arch didn’t move, because their leader had suddenly left them alone without direction. The hand returned, pressing their upper back and then they found themself at the end of the dining table as they bumped into it. Paimon took both of their hands in his and then allowed Arch to feel the two objects on the table. When their hands brushed over them, they knew immediately what they were.

One was worn-out and almost warm to the touch, while the other was cold, and metallic and never seemed to age at all.

Arch took their time, feeling both blade handles over completely. Paimon wanted them to choose. They were well practiced with the bowie. It would be the obvious choice.

Paimon watched on curiously as Arch made their decision. They placed the bowie down with a sigh, and picked up Lyrem’s jeweled blade instead. Arch nodded, indicating that they had made their decision. Paimon led Arch by the hand until they stood beside Arthur. Quickly, he helped them find their tools sitting on the table nearby. A bone saw, and clamp waiting to be used as well as a handy cloth to wipe any excess blood from their hands they didn’t want.

When Arch was comfortable, Paimon left them there and took the other side of the table. He pulled a grin over the man who seemed to be realizing all too suddenly that Arch, really was going to start pulling him apart only because Paimon had told them to.

“I thought I’d let you know, that I’ve decided what I want.” Paimon declared, unbuttoning Arthur’s shirt.

“What are you talking about?” Arthur growled, enraged and equally humbled by the almost tender action that Paimon was performing on him.

“For when I win this little bet.”

“You won’t win.”

“I will win,” Paimon argued, pulling Arthur’s shirt open and baring his chest. “And when I do, I’ll make sure that Arch eats your heart, fresh from your body. Raw and make you watch.”

“They won’t”-

“Ah, ah, ah. Are you really sure you want to make another bet on that?” Paimon shot his eyes up from Arthur to Arch and then back down again. They would likely start at any moment. Arthur fell silent.

Paimon left the stage. His brow furrowed at the sight of Lyrem and Apollo’s arrival. They were now sitting in audience chairs that he had not set up for them with a look on their faces like they didn’t think they belonged either. Quite simply, Paimon didn’t summon them. Thinking it odd they would choose to be present for this moment, he glared at the two and made his approach.

Creating two more small yellow programmes for the newest arrivals, he handed them out, hoping his startled demeanor was not noticeable. He ignored the uncomfortable itch to ask how they removed themselves from the basement and sat between them both. Neither of them looked happy to have found themselves there.

“Glad you both could make opening night.” He grinned, patting both of them on the shoulder.

Arthur’s head turned towards Lyrem, waiting for some indication that there might still be rescue- a plan, at least. Lyrem shook his head and his eyes cast downward, then back up as Charlotte was addressed by her little brother.

“Char, turn away. Don’t… Don’t watch this. Please,” Arthur pleaded.

Paimon sniffed and muttered, “it’s beginning so tragically. I was hoping for an opening number of some kind. You know, to lighten the mood.”

Arch adjusted their stance over the body. No such opening number would spare the crowd from the hellish scene. Arch reached out a hand, feeling first the bare skin over a set of ribs, and then trailed their fingers higher until they found the right area. The knife came in close to Arthur’s chest and immediately, a loud shout filled with expletives ripped out of his throat as the blade started to dig into his flesh.

Arch grunted, removing the blade and pulled the discman from the belt loop of their pants. They altered the volume buttons until they were satisfied.

“No! No, Arch! Listen to me! Hear me!” Arthur shouted at them and tried his mightiest to lean up.

Arch paid him no mind. The natural reactions like screaming were simply another distraction. They would do better if they spent ten seconds to up the volume instead of pausing every time Lyrem had something new to say. They returned the system to their hip, and continued.

“Oh, see. I suppose there are some funnier parts,” Paimon mentioned off-hand and let out a quick breathy chuckle.

Lyrem turned to him with a new and profound look in his eyes.

“How can you find any humor in such gore?” he postulated rhetorically. “I am not a fan of Arthur myself, but this”-?

“Is a masterpiece,” Paimon interrupted and then he hushed Lyrem with a finger to his lips. “Just allow it to happen.”

Lyrem scanned the room for a timer, and he found one off to the side. A sandglass sitting on a wooden stool by the wall.

Arch had finished the first cut, and the blood from the incision began to pool in the center of his chest. Arthur’s jaw had been fully clenched to prevent himself from screaming as the pain ripped through him. He didn’t want Charlotte to hear him. His tears were hot against the sides of his face as they pooled into two puddles near his ears on the wooden planks. He opened his eyes during the reprieve while Arch planned the spot for their next cut. He caught sight of Charlotte who was watching every moment with steadfast terror. Her eyes were wide, and her face shined under thick black lashes.

He let out another howl as Arch found the proper point of incision and cut across. Again, they found the third incision point and finished the I shape that would soon be widened by the clamp to hold open the area for the saw to separate his breastbone. It had been two minutes. They worked quickly to adjust the metal bar to their desired length and then pulled the portions of flesh aside. They picked up the saw, giving it two quick whirs before carefully finding the correct spot to break him open without accidentally taking one of their own fingers off in the process.

Calmly and quietly, they sang to themself as the saw whirred jaggedly through the bone until it was only their voice they heard in their mind:

“-Are you glad to see how far you've come?

You're a wizard in a blizzard-

A mystical machine gun

Bwow, wowowow, benerner! Bwow”-

They felt a little silly mouthing the words and tune, but it was only Paimon and Lyrem. Surely, they would understand Arch’s need to keep calm as the guilt racked through them. The buzzing stopped, and Arch inserted the clamp forcefully. They pried open the chest cavity with a sharp crack. They leaned over their subject without any tools. They just wanted to feel around and yep, they found the heart and the aorta first in all that squishy, squelchy, softness. Arch wondered for a moment whether there would be any practical use in keeping the blood from shooting out when they remembered that they needed their knife to sever the many arteries and ventricles.

Now, where did they leave the knife? They felt around the table with a bloody hand, brushing the top of Arthur’s arm. Arch got in a bit close and the man’s hand strained just far enough to take one of Arch’s small hands into his own. Arch paused.

It was just another distraction.

They pulled their hand away, but not before something tiny, metal, and attached to a chain had been placed in the palm of their hand.

The audience watched Arch stop suddenly. They felt the small gold crucifix and held it tight. A gleam of a single teardrop rolled down one cheek.

Paimon shifted to the end of his seat, watching the sandglass pouring out of time. There was perhaps one minute left. Not much more.

“What the hell are they doing?”

“Nothing,” Lyrem answered. He too was at a loss for as to why Arch had stopped, but recognized that Arthur must have been able to tip them off somehow throughout the ordeal. “And you can’t do anything about it, remember?” He quickly reminded Paimon. The god looked like he might just launch out of his seat and shut the whole performance down.

It was all a distraction.

Arch dropped the crucifix. There was no going back now. Definitely no going back. It was a trick. Their mom wasn’t with them. She was stuck in another realm. Thinking the little gold man ended up somewhere on the man’s stomach, it had actually fallen directly into the cavity they created. They found the knife stashed near the shoulder and got back to work with maybe thirty seconds left on the clock. They searched around for the bloody tubes connected through the heart again.

Twenty seconds.

They started with the aorta first and severed it cleanly at the top. An arc of red was released through the air that nearly hit them in the face.

Fifteen seconds.

Next, the right pulmonary vein, pulmonary artery, and superior vena cava. All severed and done. Inferior vena cava and then left ventricle on the bottom: severed- though the chain from their mother’s crucifix distracted them once more as they found it sitting in the midst of all the blood and gore.

Ten seconds.

Pulmonary vein on the left and the descending aorta- severed. Moving up again, their fingers found the heart slippery and difficult to grip the last of the veins and arteries that needed disconnecting. Arch grunted, trying to find the last step. Their fingers brushed the top of the left ventricle. A short strand-no several short strands of hair, or maybe fur, caused Arch to furrow their brows in confusion.

Just a distraction. It had to be.

They followed the top of the ventricle, searching for it to lead them to where the blood was supposed to flow in from the rest of the body. They cupped their fingers underneath and gasped, pulling their hand out with sudden shock.

“Ow! Fuck! What the hell was that?!”

Paimon watched the timer run until not a single grain of sand was left on the top tier.

Arthur cried with a silent relief and then stared down at his open body. He would have hurled on sight if he had anything to heave up, because he could feel something…

Something was moving inside of him.

Inside.

Inside of him.

Slowly moving, up and down, covered in red, and sticking up like spikes with some grey underneath, and then came an unmistakable purring noise. They all heard it- except for Arch who hadn’t pulled off their headphones yet. They stood against the wall, knowing they had failed miserably and cradled their scratched hand. It was a deep one.

Paimon strutted towards the table with an enraged announcement on the tip of his tongue:

“It’s over! I’m sending you all back to the Labyrinth!”

Charlotte turned toward Persephone who looked back in just as much concern and reminded herself of the deal they made. Arthur and Arch had been damaged beyond repair in one way or another.

Paimon clapped his hands, expecting the action to produce an instant portal into his realm, and none came. Apollo also stood up, and walked toward the human on the table. Paimon tried to push him back into his seat, but was unsuccessful as Apollo tried to get a look at the interruption that had saved them all. He smiled, looking down into the gaping hole and reached inside.

Arthur grunted in pain as Apollo’s hand dug into him. Soon the Sun god’s arms were filled with the weight of a familiar family member.

“Arty, it’s been ages,” Apollo muttered, as the cat looked up to her brother with eyes of steel blue. “What were you doing inside of this human, huh?”

Arch had finally had enough and ripped their blindfold down. They saw Apollo, holding a bloody Maleficent in his hands, Lyrem, frowning from the corner in confusion, their mother Charlotte and two strangers standing in a line on the opposite side of the table, and Paimon glaring, not at them, but everyone else in the room.

Then they looked down. Instantly, Arch paled with the realization of what happened; who they had been mutilating for the last five minutes without mercy. They could hardly speak.

“U-uncle Arty…”

Arthur met their eyes weakly and breathed raggedly.

“Hey, kiddo.”

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nep-nomer · 3 years

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You wanna read a fanfiction where you're almost a absolute asshole to Vlad with the added aspects of shrinking and Torture? You do!? Well this is the fanfic for you!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28178691/chapters/69048867

#danny phantom #vlad plasmius #danny phantom fanfiction #shrinking #TWtorture

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novaelee · 5 years

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Étant devenu fan de kpop il y a 2 ans, j’ai voulu lire ce livre sur un homme qui s’est fait torturer pendant 15 jours en Corée. Vive les liens ! 😅 ______________________________ Pour être plus sérieuse, j’ai voulu lire ce roman graphique pour en apprendre plus sur une période de l’histoire coréenne, car en découvrant la kpop j’ai eu envie d’en apprendre plus sur une nouvelle culture et un nouveau pays. Comme je le mentionnais, l’histoire n’est pas des plus joyeuses. Il s’agit d’un homme qui, pendant une période de changements politiques importants et de rébellion du peuple, c’est fait kidnapper et torturer pendant 15 jours. Et dans cet ouvrage, on suit son calvaire. _______________________________ C’est sûrement horrible à dire, et j’en suis consciente mais j’ai été déçu par cette bd. C’est un véritable pavé qui ferait concurrence avec les misérables, mais qui est beaucoup trop long. Est ce un lien avec la torture que subit cet homme, afin qu’on ressent également le long temps qui passe ? Je ne sais pas. Mais au bout d’un moment, je me suis vu lire en diagonale, voir juste regarder les images pour avancer. Il y a aussi l’histoire parallèle qui m’a légèrement confuse. Je ne suis même pas sûr d’avoir tout compris. Je ne sais pas si c’est à cause de moi ou du livre qui n’explique pas totalement le lien entre les deux. _______________________________ Le gros point positif reste le dessin. C’est gribouillé, c’est sale, c’est confus, et c’est parfait pour l’histoire qui est raconté. Quand on lit les tortures qu’à subit cet homme, on est soulagé de ne pas voir chaque détails de l’horreur et de la souffrance vécue. _______________________________ Un livre intéressant, quoi qu’un peu long, mais qui m’a permis d’en apprendre plus sur une partie de l’histoire de la Corée qui n’est pas si lointaine que ça. _______________________________ Ma note: 💧💧/5 _______________________________ Traité comme une bête De Park Kun Woong Éditions La boîte à bulles _______________________________ #livrestagram #bookstagram #bd #bandedessinee #romangraphique #traitecommeunebete #parkkunwoong #editionslaboiteabulles #twtorture #southkorea #triggerwarning #coreedusud #violence https://www.instagram.com/p/B5GdokQIgVY/?igshid=ioiuivpcd3zg

#livrestagram #bookstagram #bd #bandedessinee #romangraphique #traitecommeunebete #parkkunwoong #editionslaboiteabulles #twtorture #southkorea #triggerwarning #coreedusud #violence

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celebrimbor-of-eregion · 5 years

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Last Christmas

I gave you this ring,

But the very next year

You hid it away.

This year,

To save me from tears,

YOU’RE GOING TO TELL ME WHERE IT IS OR I’LL TORTURE THE SHIT OUT OF YOU ELF BITCH

#celebrimbor #tyelpe #sauron #annatar #christmas #sauron christmas #tw torture #twtorture

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tyelp-with-a-spear · 6 years

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Flying Away

(Another sad angsty capture-time silvergifting. Warning for rape (no graphic details), mentions of self-harm, and references to tortures and injuries. Tyelpe's cute angst)

Annatars soft lips pressed to Tyelpe's, hot and impatient. Loving hands open his robes, fingers brushing against his nipples, hands caressing the smooth skin, sliding down to his hips, only to turn Tyelpe's light sigh into a moan. His head is so dizzy when he bends over for his love, to be entered, gently, slowly, Annatar's sweet lips on the back of his neck.

So tender. So kind. So very welcome. And so long gone. Right now, he has to bite his lip, not in a seductive denonstration of pleasure but to hide his pain. His captor is particularly harsh today.

He would like to say the betrayal hurts more than anything Sauron has done to his body, but that would be a noble lie. He would choose to be betrayed several times more, to cry over a candle and a journal on a cold Eregion night but keep his skin safe from whips and knives. He would have his heart shattered but not his bones. He would be lied to, cheated on, but please, none of _this_.

It is so shameful, to think of what they had. To recall how happily he would give himself to this man he barely knew, how he believed himself to be attractive and loved. Tyelpe hated his body now, ashamed and disgusted to no end. His tormentor gave him enough markings, yet he would add more still, even if mere scratches. Useless. Corrupt. How could he think someone could truly like him that much? He'd never even been kissed before Annatar. He'd barely held hands with anyone. Nobody wanted him, and for a reason. The only time someone did was a lie. He wasn't made for these things.

It hurts, the heavy body on top of him, squeezing the pain out of his numerous injuries, making his damaged skin bleed and sting. It hurts, the way he pushes into Tyelpe, no trace of that gentle lover he once was. The grip on Tyelpe's wrists does not hurt, yet it is sickening, maddening, outrageous even. This cannot be true. It must be a nightmare of some sort.

Sauron's heavy breath tickles his ear as that tear does his cheek. Tyelpe closes his eyes calmly and counts all the battles he's been in. By today, he's run out of wars, kings of the Noldor, family members, rulers of Numenor, big buildings of Ost-in-Edhil, and, finally, dots on the ceiling. He knows there is five on the left and one slightly to the right, and that the other one to the right is not a dot, it's a fly, she just likes to sit there. When Tyelpe is done with the battles, he silently tells himself a story about the fly.

Little fly was born in Lindon. She travelled to the Misty Mountains, but it was too cold there, and there weren't other flies, so she left. She sat on the door of Moria and waited until Narvi returned from a trip to Ost-i -Edhil and spoke the password. Then, she flew in and ate so much food in the King's kitchens she was barely able to run away from the angry cook. Little fly continued travelling Middle-Earth until she arrived to Barad-Dur. In the dark fortress, there were many evil things, and the food wasn't very edible. So the fly returned to Lindon and sailed with many Elves who had kind smiles and good food.

Tyelpe wouldn't mind kind smiles. He agrees to give up good food for that. Ignoring Sauron's grunts, he thinks that he would like to end his life here and have another chance on the white shores he'd left so long ago. Then, he would not do any of the shameful things, only innocent activities. He would read books and travel like they used to do with father, uncles, and Fëanor. Perhaps he could meet some family? Great-uncle Arafinwë was very nice to him during the War of Wrath. Maybe he would be nice to Tyelpe still, even after all the mistakes he's committed. He would meet grandmother Nerdanel and her father Mahtan, and Vala Aulë, the friend of Noldor. Surely he must be there, bathing in sunlight and talking to his family; why is he here, in such a miserable place, and why is _this_ taking so long?

Ah, there. Finally. Sauron leaves promptly - perhaps he has war matters to deal with, and maybe he is losing? Tyelpe is left here, soiled and exposed. He sits up on his cot and closes his eyes, pretending that he is in his bed in Fëanor's house, and he only needs to sit here for a few moments before getting dressed and going to the town square. He wipes the tears with the old blanket he imagines is his tunic. Everything will be alright. He would only rest a little bit, and it will be fine.

#all his nice plans woukd come true and i will write about it #tyelpe drama #fic #my fic #angsty silvergifting #silvergifting #silverfisting #annatar #tw rape #twrape #tw torture #twtorture

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justsnail · 5 years

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Unseen Point (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/tOKJUw7lfS Every story has a different perspective, a different story within the story. A different point than the one you see. So here's mine. And be careful, the point of the story is unseen, unless if you look deep enough. (Dystopian society story, discover what makes this world so bad, and realize the point has been there the whole time.)

(Hey Yall. I know i’ve been sharing way too much of my writing but i’m going on a writing thing and i’d really appreciate it if yall checked out my story. ^_^)

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dead-smiths-society · 6 years

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Okay, so I told the apprentices not to splash water into Tyelpe's face, and I had to explain why because Narë had that "don't tell me what to do" look, and... Telion didn't know Tyelpe had been tortured?? Seriously, Telion? Now he's sitting and staring into space. I'm a bad apprentice mom. - Namba

#heavy hammer and gentle heart||namba #young and eager||telion #our silver lord #tw torture #twtorture

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tiny-ink-dancer · 8 years

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[Memory Prompt, Blood Moon Shen] A notable kill other then her mother, perhaps the one where she decided for herself that she was not doing evil, but good? With the intent for Shen to make her... relive it, in a nightmare.

Valyra found herself walking a familiar path through the village she once lived in, further inland from her childhood home, she had been shopping for food when she heard the angry shouts. She turned towards the source, watching as a man roughly dragged a young girl that was clearly his daughter away from a toymaker’s stall. She frowned at the tone in his voice, at the tears of the young girl. She turned away from the shop she had been about to enter, following them at a great distance. It was early evening, so it was safe for her to presume that they were going back to their home. Clutching a bouquet of white roses in her hands that she had previously purchased, she didn’t stand out from the crowd at all.

She took note of what house they went into, waiting nearby until dark. When she at last had the cover of darkness, she entered the house silently, preemptively releasing her ink beast from its bottle. She could hear muffled crying from a different room, indicating the child was out of her way. The flowers were set on the table as she silently approached the man, he not having noticed her arrival. She flicked one of her fans open, throwing it into the back of the man’s knee and bringing him to the floor reeling in pain. She grinned darkly as he started to curse at her, dragging him into what she could only assume was his bedroom, if the empty liquor bottles were anything to go by.

She used her fans to pin his hands to the floor, ensuring that he wouldn’t be getting up any time soon. Pulling a thin knife from within her sleeve, she proceeded to carve intricate patterns across his skin, relishing in the screams that left his throat with each cut. When shock finally set in and he stopped screaming, she grew bored, slitting his throat before standing. She checked the time, realizing that she had been working at him for almost two hours.

She dusted her kimono off, moving out of the room, locking the door from the inside behind her. All her weapons had been returned to their hiding spots within her sleeves, the ink beast left behind to finish feasting on the man’s soul. She worked at the lock on the door behind which she had heard the girl crying before, after a few minutes the door swung open to reveal a young girl, no older than seven, huddled in the corner crying quietly. She started to cry louder as Valyra approached and she saw much of herself in that little girl huddled in the corner. She lifted a hand to her mouth, “Sh, your papa’s sleeping, you don’t want to wake him right?”

The little girl nodded slowly, growing quiet as she stared up at Valyra. “You’re the Lady of the Mountains aren’t you? Mama used to tell me that if I ever needed help that I should leave sweets out for the Lady and that she would come and help.”

Valyra spotted the small candy on the windowsill, looking down to herself for a moment, she remembered hearing that story and realized that she probably looked as the fairy tale figure had once been described to this young girl and nodded slowly, “Yes that’s right. I came to take care of you tonight, but it has to be a secret, you can’t tell anyone that I was here or then everyone will want my help and I’m simply too busy already for everyone to call on me, understand?”

The little girl nodded, offering her arms up when Valyra moved closer. She swept the child into her arms, carrying her into the kitchen and setting her down at the table, “What’s your name little one?” she asked, rummaging through the cupboards to find something for the child to eat.

“Hasu.”

She let out a soft hum, “Lotus, what a pretty name. Now we’re going to have some dinner and I’ll do you hair up nice and pretty with these flowers if you want, but then you have to go to bed alright?” The girl nodded quickly and they spent the rest of the evening playing. Late into the night Valyra sat on the little girl’s bed with her, weaving white roses into her hair to form a flower crown for her. When she was finished, she tucked the girl into bed, sang lullabies to her until she was asleep and then slowly made her way out of the house. She knew that it was likely the body would be discovered in the morning, but she took comfort in the fact that she had saved this child as she made her way back to her home.

#twabuse #twtorture #twblood #twdeath #tw alchoholism

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estella-ashwell · 9 years

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Tortured

MN: Please note the threat warning tags before reading. (tagged: twDeath, twBlood, etc.) This is pretty graphic, even to me.

rcgalism:

She should have known that something was off, should have known so when he had been utterly chipper, almost happy. It never meant something good when he was happy. Stepping into the basement room she knows he doesn't want her in, she knows why. It's tied up blonde with tear streaked cheeks, her eyes fall on first. Their neighbor. She had just moved a week ago into the house across the street. Regina hadn't liked the way he had looked at her, it had left her feeling uneasy, left her skin crawling in the worst way possible. Now she knew why. He had looked at the blonde the way he had looked at her before he had forced her into the life she had today. "ENOUGH!" Regina's voice booms, filled with anger and fury. Going after her was one thing, but going after another? An innocent? Someone that had nothing to do with all of this mess? That was something entirely different. "GET AWAY FROM HER!" another scream, followed by the sound of something snapping, something breaking. the metallic clink of the iron bar hitting the ground echoes through the suddenly silent room. "I am so sorry." Regina breathes, scrambling to stand beside the table he had tied her up on. "I am so sorry I couldn't protect you." she adds, feeling tears welling up in her eyes while she unbinds the blonde, and helps her up before dragging her out of the room. "It's over now." she states, once the door falls into it's lock behind them. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

It had only been a week. A week in the nice, suburban community, and she’s already been kidnapped. By that damn creep across the street. Stella couldn’t help but blame herself for not installing her security system in sooner, or doing a background check on this guy. She didn’t even know his last name.

It was just a little after seven in the afternoon when she noticed the sound of breaking glass from the back door. When she ran to see what happened, her door was wide open and there was glass from the door’s window all over the floor. Before she can even begin to look, she heard footsteps from behind her. Then, a sharp pain began to throb in the back of her head. Everything went dark.

“Wakey, wakey.” Echoed through Estella’s ears. The voice was deep, low with malice. Her head felt heavy, and a migraine overtook her thinking process. She was on some cold, hard floor and couldn’t move her hands or legs. Apparently, her captor saw her wiggle against the tight rope restraints. He made a ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ sound before speaking. “You’re not getting out of those anytime soon, I tied you up real good.” The blonde could hear the sick grin in the man’s voice. She began to try to open her heavy eyelids. Everything was blurry at first, but after a few blinks, it all started to become clear. Too clear.

She was in an unfinished basement, or a storage room. The floor was made of cement, and it smelled like dusty wood. There were storage containers full of random things, holiday stuff, sports things, antiques. But what really caught her was the man in front of her, the man that took her from her new home. It was her own neighbor. The man with that sleazy, dark look in his eyes. Leo... Shit, I don’t even know his last name. Estella cursed herself as he leaned over to stare her right in the face. “You...” His hand reached out and grabbed her by her jaw. “Are going to be my new pet.” Leo said with a shit-eating grin. Stella spat in his face and remained silent.

The older, large man suddenly scowled and punched her with the hand that was on her jaw. She knew screaming out wouldn’t help, no one would hear her. Except maybe his wife, but hell, maybe she was in on this. She didn’t know, much less trust, these people. Stella was glad that the blow didn’t knock any teeth out, but she was definitely bleeding somehow, since she tasted the metallic liquid on her tongue. She looked up at him with as much rage and hate in her eyes as she could muster, then spoke up in a threatening tone. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Everything hurt. Estella felt weak, cold, and broken. Her throat burned from his cock being shoved into her throat repeatedly, as a lesson to ‘keep quiet’. She almost suffocated three times. If she made a sound, he would burn her wherever he pleased with the cigarettes he was inhaling. He figured that wasn’t enough, so he ripped her clothes off... Estella’s eyes clenched shut when she saw him reaching for her. His slimy, filthy hands ran over her body roughly. He would laugh as he slapped and grabbed at her. Then he had slammed her on to the table in the damp room and raped her, over and over. There was blood between her legs, dripping down every time he pulled out.

The blonde prayed for it all to be over soon, or for death to suddenly hit her. But it went on for what felt like hours.

She didn’t even realize she had been crying the whole time until he was off of her. Something stopped him. Stella opened her reddened eyes to see a woman helping her... The wife... Regina. She was about to thank her, but she couldn’t even speak. Her neck and throat were in too much pain, so resistance was met when she attempted to say anything. Instead, she just let the woman practically drag her back upstairs. Moving brought so much pain and soreness to her body.

When Regina mentioned cleaning her up, Estella shook her head rapidly while wincing. Not here, no. Anywhere but near the damn monster in the basement. Stella tried to swallow, to help her speak. “P-police.” Was all she managed in a hoarse whisper. God, I hope she lets me call the cops. A shiver ran through her as she thought of her new neighbor denying her of reporting the incident. “Please.” The word was said as her voice cracked, then the blonde began to break down, sobbing silently. Her bright eyes looked at Regina pleadingly as she leaned further on to her. She was afraid her body may just give out, causing her to land on the floor. “Please.”

#v?#tortured #twTorture #twAbuse #twRape #twBlood #rcgalism

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mysteriousbadboy-blog · 9 years

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Sweet Revenge

Tagging: Tanisha Puckerman and Judy Fabray Location: A warehouse in Lima Heights Time: Sunday Night into Monday morning Notes: Tanisha finally gets some revenge on Judy with the torturous form or revenge.

The lights were dim in the warehouse, her eyes are narrowed as she approaches the woman tied to the metal chair. Smiling at one of the boys, she pulls her cart of ‘instruments’ over to her and removes the black cloth bag off of the woman’s face. “Judy Fabray.” Tanisha smiles wickedly. “Long time no see.” She circled the woman, whose make up was smudged by crying and Tanisha could only laugh. “My son, you know the one you fucking shot!? He’s in a coma, lying on a hospital bed and the doctors are not sure if he’ll live or not and if he does live? He only has one god damn lung- so there goes dancing, there goes basketball, there goes every god damn dream he ever had because of you.” Tanisha’s open hand collided with Judy’s face and a painful scream echoed through the halls. “So you wiped those fucking tears away, cause you shouldn’t be crying- not you. No, you dug yourself in this hole, so now you gotta lay in it.”

Tanisha gave her a faint smile as she walked over to her tray of goodies. “I was thinking of ways that I could make you feel his pain, our pain. My mind was swimming: should I shoot one of your bitch daughters? But then I realized that it would be to easy and besides, Franny paid for my recovery…thank you for that by the way. So I had some very handsome men track you down and bring you to me- it’s you that needs to pay.” She mused. “Tip her chair boys, she’s gonna get a taste of Lima’s finest water supply.”

“Wait, wait- ” Judy pleaded. “Please, I can give you anything you want, I’ll pay for his hospital bills- I’ll…please don’t kill me!”

“Oh I’m not gonna kill you Judy, I’m just going to make you wish that you never put that bullet in my son.” Tanisha dipped a dirty piece of fabric into the bucket of water and placed it over Judy’s face. “Let the fun begin.” She smiled before grabbing the jug and began to pour it over the other woman’s face.

~x~

Hours passed and they were well into midnight. Tanisha wiped some sweat off of her brow as she sat down in front of the woman again. Her eyes studied the bruised up woman for a moment. “We had fun, didn’t we?” Tanisha asked and Judy just replied with a sob. “My favorite was the volts of electricity that went through that chair that you’re sitting on- oh and how I broke your knee cap- have fun trying to walk or talk at that matter- losing ten of your teeth will be pretty hard to cope with, but you have money that can fix that and one more thing?” Tanisha’s hands wrapped themselves around Judy’s throat and her eyes went into slits. “You ever even think about telling the cops about this, I’ll have you killed- and you keep your dirty, filthy gang away from here and if I so much hear the last name Fabray, well- you know what will happen, right?”

Judy nodded her head quickly. “Good, now my boys have set up a little scene for you, they crashed your car into a tree and you’ll be planted in it, if you are found before you freeze to death, you will tell the EMTs that you were in a car accident, you understand?” Another nod and Tanisha smirked. “Good, boys- she’s all yours now.”

With a final nod of her head, Tanisha stepped out of the warehouse and into her car, she needed a nice drink before returning to the hospital.

#sr #solo para #twtorture

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tyelp-with-a-spear · 6 years

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Breaking Free

(A ficlet where Tyelpe commits suicide, Namo protects his soul from being dragged back, and he receives the biggest freaking hug from Aulë. Tw for tortures.)

Tyelpe tried to breathe, but it was so, so painful. With an arrow in his side, every small breath felt like he was being branded with hot iron.

"I am. Losing. My patience," Sauron stated, his voice hammering the words. As if he ever had any patience. "Tell me where they are, or by Morgoth I will invent something else."

He would not speak even if he wanted. It was too painful.

"Tyelpe, don't be silly," the Dark Lord's voice softened.

Don't listen - don't listen - don't listen, Tyelpe, you know this well by now, this is where the lies begin. Do not trust a single word that comes out of that rotten mouth.

"Look at yourself, Tyelpe," he all but purred. "You're so broken and tired. Do you remember how gorgeous your hair used to be?" Sauron leaned in to pick up a strand of his long hair, and Tyelpe realized with horror that it was no longer black. It was white. "We'll fix all that, darling boy," Sauron reassured. "It will be alright, my sweet Tyelpe. I just need those rings of yours. You tell me where they are, and we'll take that arrow out. It will heal, I promise."

No. No, no, no. Nothing will ever heal. Not his heart - and, at this point, even his body probably will not either. He no longer entertained these hopes - that was the first stage. The next one was pride. He would make Finwë proud. He would be worthy of Fëanor's legacy. He would be as strong as Fingolfin. Soon, that was gone too. After that, Tyelpe held on to the memory of his friends and family who he had to protect, but the memory was sweet and happy, and nothing sweet and happy lasted long in this place. What was left now was spite. His Noldorin stubbornness was the only thing that kept him going. No, I will not tell you where the rings are, JUST BECAUSE I CAN, now what are you going to do?

His strength was running out. Another arrow did not make things better.

"That's what you get," Sauron hissed. "You want one more?"

Absent-mindedly, Tyelpe scanned the archer with his gaze, and... Merciful Valar. The orc was TIRED. He had been here, guarding Tyelpe, for HOURS. Surely his reaction could be a little slower than usual...

This was the only chance. The only way out of this was to the realm of Lord Mandos, and Tyelpe knew it very well. His mind was racing now, quick, comparing opportunities, calculating consequences like in the best days of Ost-in-Edhil, not for construction and trade now but for his own death.

Think, Tyelpe. THINK. That shackle around his left wrist, the one that was attached to the wall a little carelessly, was now loosened due to his careful, stealthy work. If he makes a mistake, the chance will be forever lost. Sauron will make sure everything is checked ten times, and he will stay in this kingdom of horror for who knows how much longer. He cannot, he cannot, he cannot.

Sauron leaves him no time to think. "Shoot him," he drops lazily and waves his hand. The orc draws the bow.

Please, lord Aulë. Please, please, PLEASE, if you can hear me, if the plead of a humble Noldorin smith means anything to you, please, let this erudamned shackle move far enough. Please, lord Namo, take me into your embrace. I'm ready. I've never been readier.

He barely even realized how soon that happened. Slight sting in his left wrist, burn in his chest, Sauron's terrifying growl...

He followed the light, light, finally, but long black fingers followed him, swirling around his waist, trapping his wrists, wrapping around his ankles. No, no, no. Please, no. He saw a figure in front of him, pale face, white robes. The figure tried to combat the fingers, but they took over, dragging Tyelpe back to that nightmare. Oh, stars!..

Another figure, a black one, much taller, emerged in front of him. "You are threspassing, Mairon," the figure roared. "This is MY kingdom. Be gone!"

The fingers untangled and slipped back into the darkness. Tyelpe was free. Free, free!

"My lord Namo..." he whispered and attempted to bow. Suddenly, there was a hall around them, a bright and ornate one, and not at all the dreadful place he had imagined so many times.

The black figure grew smaller in size, acquiring the usual proportions, and the Lord of Mandos removed his hood. "Welcome, Tyelperinquar. It is my duty to..."

"Oh, my boy!" a loud voice interrupted him, and Tyelpe found himself wrapped into a warmest embrace. Lord Aulë!

"Aulë," Namo's voice sounded even, but he sure was irritated, "I have work to do."

"My small son," Aulë sobbed, not paying any attention to his fellow Vala, "I know you're distressed, but it will pass, I promise, Fëanaro was very distressed at first too... It will be fine."

Tyelpe smiled, for the first time in months. Over Aulë's shoulder, he could see a familiar figure. Fëanor. A smiling woman next to him... Miriel?

He closed his eyes and sighed. His part is over now, and he will rest. Then, he will be happy. Not in spite, not for his people, not for his family and friends. For himself.

#tyelpe drama #tw torture #twtorture #sauron #celebrimbor #silvergifting #silverfisting #aulë #namo mandos #fic #tw suicide #twsuicide #my fic

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