Augusnippets Day 7 - Tumblr Posts

Augusnippets Day 7: Waterboarding

Fandom: Spy x Family

Summary: Loid is waterboarded

    Loid didn't know what had given him away. All he did know was now he was in enemy territory. He had been on a mission to infiltrate a popular gang in this area. One of the members must have found out he was not there to truly join them.

    Despite his abilities, Loid had not expected the gang members to attack him. All it took was one lead pipe to the back of his head and he was lucky to be alive. When Loid woke up, he was in some room. His hands were tied together and he heard what sounded like a sink running.

    "Who sent you?" A gang member asked. Loid stayed silent.

    "We don't have time for your fucking games man. Who sent you?" Still, Loid didn't answer.

    "Alright, you asked for it." One of the gang members grabbed a bucket while another grabbed a cloth. They soaked the cloth and brought it to Loid's face.

Dropping the rag over the spy's face, the gang member poured more water in it. Loid struggled under their grasp, trying to escape. It felt like he was drowning, even if he wasn't. The water coming into his lungs, was painful and had the potential to be deadly. However, at the time he should be okay.

After a moment, Loid tried to calm himself enough to think about how to get out of the situation. Escape was all about the timing. If the man could plan it out to where he used his strength against the others when they didn't have water on him.

So he waited for a moment. Once they ran out of water, Loid took his chance. He attacked them, freeing himself. Shaking the cloth off of his face, Loid headed for the door. Forcing the door to open, he ran down the hall. Now Twilight just had to figure out how to escape the building.

@augusnippets day 7

Drowning/ waterboarding/ choking

Murder, loan shark situation, kidnapping

°

Whumpee squirmed in their bonds, screaming through the gag in the back of the car. Whumper rode shotgun, while his personal driver took them god knows where.

One of Whumper's henchmen sat on either side of Whumpee, dressed in sleek black suits. They paid Whumpee's struggles no attention, watching out the tinted glass of the vehicle's windows.

Eventually, the car stopped. Whumpee was dragged out into the chilly night, finding themself on a bridge. The gag was pulled from their lips, and they were thrown to their knees before Whumper.

"Please, Whumper," they begged, looking up pleadingly. "I can have your money soon, i promise. I'm good for it, really!" Whumpee knew what was coming. They'd be beat again and dropped off at home, just like every other time. Maybe Whumper would even take a finger or two.

Whumper chuckled, kicking Whumpee onto their back. He snapped his fingers at his guards, ordering, "Untie him."

Whumpee's limbs were freed, Whumper's boot pressing down on their chest. Whumper's voice was smooth and unhurried as he spoke, "Whumpee. You've missed your payments for six months. I'm afraid it's over for you, friend."

"What? Whumper, come on, buddy! We're friends here, we can work this out!" Whumpee raised his hands, laughing nervously. "Let's see, ah, I've got some money back at home, if you'll just drive me over th—"

Whumper kicked Whumpee in the face, and they groaned in pain. "Fuck, come on! I promise, man, i just— what are you doing?"

One of Whumper's men was securing a rope to Whumpee's ankle, tied to a cement block.

"Hey- hey! No, no, please, we can work this out! Stop, Whumper, please stop them! No!"

The henchmen lifted the heavy brick over the bridge's edge, holding it and waiting for Whumper's command.

"Whumper, No!" Whumpee cried out, shaking their head.

Whumper's boot came off Whumpee's chest. "This is why you don't fuck over my people. Goodnight, Whumpee."

The brick dropped, and Whumpee was pulled with it, plummeting towards the dark, unforgiving water.

Try, Try Again

Augusnippets day 7: waterboarding | drowning | choking

Word count: 498

Trigger warnings: child abuse, depictions of drowning, symptoms like vomiting(?)

——————(0)——————

Aristaeus only realizes that the hand in his hair has yanked him up when he’s choking on air for long, agonizing seconds. Water in his lungs, water in his stomach—all of it comes spluttering out, dragging pain behind it like yanking hooks along his esophagus. He heaves, and he is wretched—

“I remain convinced that you are not taking this seriously, morseling.”

—and he has failed. Again.

The hand in his hair tightens, just a bit; in response, all his breathing cuts off for a terrifying moment, before in a great rush, water floods out his mouth and nose, splattering into the river. The force of it makes him grasp at the shingle around him in weak, desperate movements, but when he can finally inhale, it comes clean, free of any damp rattle in his lungs, though it rasps in his abused throat. Teacher is merciful, even after his many failures.

“I am,” Aristaeus croaks, “I swear, I am.” His next words are practiced, and resonate with the scorching, acidic mass rooted deep into his chest: “This is within nature, so it is within mine.”

He cuts it off there, as he’s learned. Anything more sounds like begging to Teacher—the divine, even pale, reaching imitations like him, do not beg, as Teacher says.

“And yet,” Teacher says, “the lesson remains unlearned.”

Her hand in his hair pulls him back, back, back, and his breath shudders as the arch of his spine lets him meet Her eyes, pebbles for irises surrounded by mossy sclera. Her face is set in statuesque, forbidding disapproval, as always.

No mouth is needed to speak the tongue of the gods, only a will to be heard, and so Her lips remain sealed as She proclaims, “You will stay under for as long as it takes for you to learn how to breathe.”

The sentence nearly makes his hands fly up (to grasp at her hand and plead? To rip it from his head?); he stills them, and they hover somewhere above his knees. He knows She doesn’t mean what they’ve been doing so far. The notion makes him start trembling.

“Teacher, I am mortal. Prolonged drowning will kill me,” he says. She needs the reminder, occasionally—their existences are so far apart. Maybe ….

“It will not be drowning if you are breathing,” Teacher says, implacable. “I can expel water from your body in the river as easily as out of it. You will learn, splinterling, or you will stay.”

Aristaeus knows it’s coming. It doesn’t make the push forward into the water any less jarring, or the shingle wrapping around him to keep him under any less frightening. Her hand is still in his hair—he is trapped utterly in Her power, and it’s a cold comfort to know he won’t die, no matter how painful.

As he breathes in, tries to convert the water to magic he can sustain himself on, fails again, and starts to seize, he hopes he’ll learn Her lesson quickly.