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sabo-has-my-heart · 11 months

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Haloo yellow helllloooooo

Is it alright if I ask for like Trafalgar Law x reader? It's up to you if you wanna make them male or female, I'm thinking of having a reader that can summon wings but with a price. Like the wings would literally rip out of their back, leaving a big scar and lots and lots of blood. It's not bad enough? The feathers are made of light steel but has sharp edges at the bottom. Making it more than painful... And I think it should be a curse so that you wouldn't have to think of a devil fruit? It's alr if you did, tho.

omg, this almost made my cry while I was writing it! As a note, Noroi means curse. I will also likely be creating the devil fruit I used in this as well as one based on her transformation (it sounds interesting to me). I made it more than just the wings, but there's reasoning for that... I'm gonna go cry now! (not really, but holy shit, this fic!)

Warnings: graphic depictions of injuries, blood, curses, angst, pain, hurt/comfort, GN!Reader

Word Count: 1675

The first time he saw the scars, he was horrified. Two long, vertical lines down your back about where your shoulder blades were. Starting just above the shoulder blade and running down to your mid back. He wasn’t sure if the scars looked more like tears or cuts. You hadn’t answered him when he asked what they were from, you’d refused to tell him. After asking again and again, he began to assume that something horrific had happened to you, something you were afraid to talk about. Had you been captured and tortured? Had someone betrayed you? Had it been an accident of some sort? Did you even remember what had happened? Maybe it was so traumatic that your mind blocked it out, perhaps it was painful to remember. So he stopped asking, if it was traumatic, he didn’t want to risk an outburst or break down.

You remembered how it had happened, how you’d gotten this curse. A devil fruit, yet it wasn’t you who’d eaten it. The Noroi Noroi no mi. It allowed the user to bestow curses upon other people. Some minor, some… some like yours. Large metal wings, sharp blades that cut through your skin as they tore out of your back. Light weight yet strong, capable of propelling you hundreds, sometimes even thousands of feet in the air. The pain was like nothing you’d ever imagined before, the first time they’d sheared through your skin, you’d screamed in pain, falling to the ground. You’d lost consciousness, the pain too much for your mind to handle. You didn’t pass out from the pain anymore, but it still made you cry out in pain, it was still a blinding pain that left you shaking. With your wings fresh from your back, you looked like an angel of war, metal wings glinting in the sunlight as fresh blood dripped from the sharp tips of the ‘feathers’. Yet the curse didn’t stop there. With each activation, the curse progressed, as if to make your life an endless hell, maybe to ensure that you’d never just learn to deal with the pain. Metal that ripped out of your hair line, forming a beautiful silver circlet, yet dripped with blood, the red liquid running is streams down your face. A burning in your eyes, like acid, as they changed into an unnaturally bright blue, the whites turning a a lustrous ivory, like pearls. With each activation of your curse, you looked more and more like some sort of twisted, bloodstained angel of war. All you could think was it was only a matter of time before armor sprouted from your limbs, a cuirass of steel protecting your chest, until your body dripped with blood and you became a ‘true angel’ of blood and steel. Your worse nightmare. Horrific pain as the metal ripped through every part of your body, dripping with blood as people looked on in fear. What would the others think? What would Law think? Would they push you away? Or perhaps they might comfort you? Would they look at you in horror? Or would their looks turn to ones of sympathy? You couldn’t take that chance. You couldn’t risk losing those you loved most.

Now, however, you risked losing them anyway. Should you transform, you risked losing them as they pushed you away; but if you did nothing, you risked them dying and losing them for good, risked knowing that they died when you could have saved them. So with a pained cry, you allowed the metal to tear from your skin. Once more dripping with blood, you faced your enemies. Everyone’s eyes were on you, the scream, the transformation, drawing their attention. Pauldrons of metal covered your shoulders, your blood covered circlet dripping with blood, your wings glinting in the sunlight as the red liquid dripped from the tips to the ground. Unnaturally blue eyes glared at your enemies as the hilt of a blade formed at your waist. You could feel the metal springing from your skin in the same horrific fashion, yet this time, you didn’t care. This time, you took hold of the metal willingly, this time, you pulled it from your body as if the pain didn’t matter, as if what you had become was trivial. It left a gash in your hip, the hilt burned like red hot fire against your hand as you charged forward. An angel of war? No. A demon of blood, steel, and fury as you cut your enemies down. A metal blade, sharper than any man made sword, sharper than even Law’s scalpels or feather blades. Piercing and slashing through your enemies and suddenly, you were covered in blood once more, yet this blood was not your own. Chest heaving, you dropped the blade at your feet. All around you, bodies littered the ground, blood watering the earth and pooling at your feet. You closed your eyes as tears burned behind your eye lids. It was time to face the others, time to face their horrified stares and terrified faces. But you refused to do so as you were now, refused to face them as the demonic creature you’d become. The wings retracted, the blade on the ground seemed to gain a mind of its own as it turned into liquid metal and shot into your calf. Pauldrons pulled back into your skin, and circlet slipped back into your head. But more had formed during your battle. Blood stained vambraces folded back into your forearms and a gold trimmed tasset slipped into your waist. Your clothes had been shredded by the metal that had sprouted from your body and was covered in your blood. The wounds caused by the curse quickly healed, leaving more scarring. It was a bitter sweet ability of the curse. It allowed you to heal quickly, making wounding you difficult. Because if you bled out, the curse could no longer take hold of you. The palm of your hand now had burn scars and your eyes still felt like they were covered in acid. Still, still you turned to them. Their looks were ones of horror and sympathy, they cradled their own wounds, yet they stood up, hurrying over to you. Bepo was the first to reach you, pulling you close and wrapping his large arms around you, sobbing as he tried to say something that was lost in the sounds of his crying. Penguin and Shachi were soon wrapped around you as well, muttering apologies and words of comfort. Soon the entire crew minus Law was holding you in a group hug, words of comfort surrounding you. Tears ran down your cheeks, yet these were not tears of pain. They were tears of relief. They didn’t hate you, they weren’t turning you away. They were pulling you closer. You lost track of how long they held you before you all returned to the Polar Tang, the crew offering to cook, help you clean up, let you rest, whatever you wanted. It was shortly after you’d entered your room, before you got a chance to shower that Law appeared in your room. The two of you simply stood there in silence. He was the one you were most afraid of right now. Would he leave you? Would he hate you? Would he be angry at you for keeping it a secret? Law walked over to you in silence, gently taking your arm and examining the new scars.

“Now I know why you didn’t tell me… are you… are you still in pain?” he asked, eyes looking at you in concern.

“They’re… tender. They will be for a few days.” you admitted, looking away from him. Law gently wiped some blood away from your arm with his sleeve before pressing a soft kiss to the new scar that ran up your entire forearm.

“From now on, I’ll take care of you, You’ll never have to use this ability again. I… I won’t let you. As your captain, I forbid you from using it again, no matter the situation.” he said sternly, yet you could tell that his words were simply out of worry for your well-being. You could only nod as you stared into his eyes. While they were filled with sympathy and concern, they also shone with love. He loved you too much to let this happen to you again.

“Let me help you.” he said softly, gently pulling the remains of your blood soaked clothes from your body before gently carrying you to the shower. He was more gentle with you than ever as he carefully washed the blood from your body, almost as if he was afraid his touch would tear your skin open again. Once you were clean and in fresh clothes, he ‘shambles’ed you to the dining room, the crew already having made your favorite. While they wanted to be there for you, they’d all agreed to leave you be, not wanting to make you feel like a freak by standing there and staring at you or asking you questions. They had questions, they wanted to care for you, but they knew it would be best if they treated you like normal, as if nothing had happened. To treat you like always so that you knew that nothing had changed, you hadn’t changed in their eyes. In a way, it was true, you hadn’t changed in their eyes. You were still you, still the same person who cared about them, still the same person they’d always cared for, who was part of their little family. They’d let you rest more often, they’d treat you with more care, they’d protect you more, but you were still you, even with your curse. Law would be the same. He’d treat you like he always had, yet at the same time, he’d be more careful with you, be softer with you. But you knew it was only because they didn’t want you to have to suffer that pain again. Only because they loved you. They still loved you.

#one piece #one piece law #op Law #one piece trafalgar law #one piece trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law #angst #hurt/comfort #cw: gore #graphic depictions of injury

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luck-of-the-drawings · 1 year

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THAT WOUND. THAT VILE WOUND. it throbs in time with your speeding heart, and the ache it carries through your veins is oppressive, its hot, it tangles around your jaw and through your spine and behind your eyes. there are needles, sprouting from the lacerations like the most heinous ivy, and it strangles your lungs, rips tears from your eyes, lures bile to your throat. it hurts. oh god it hurts. you cant think, you cant breathe, you cant swallow, you cant see. you cant see. you cant see. you cannot see but you know when your eyes are closed, because there are colors stained upon the backs of your eyelids. they form images of loved ones, of viscera, of bile and blood and blackened mud. its jarring, they make anxiety spike outwards, frantic ferro fluid, frightened from faces too scared, too pained, too dead, too piercing with eyes staring straight at you, straight at you. actually, you cant tell when your eyes are open.

SAUCE FREE VERSION UNDER THE CUT.

#jrwi fanart #jrwi riptide #jrwi riptide spoilers #cw blood #gillion tidestrider #cw injury #wadda hell else i tag this as huh #OHH I HAVCE A STORY FOR THIS ONE. IM ACTUALLY POSTING SMTH AS SOON AS I FINISH IT THIS TIME #I STARTED THIS LIKEEE I THINK A TWO WEEKS OR SO AGO. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SCRIBBLE SKETCH similar to that one i made o chip #BUT THEN WELL. I GOT ILL AND MY WRIST STOPPED WORKING N MY PEN PRESSURE STOPPED BEING REAL #SO FOR A MISERABLE WEEK I WAS JUST PLACING PIXELS WITH MOUSE OR NONDOMMY HAND. SLOWLY BUT SURELY #THE PAIN I DEPICT HERE IS REAL. AND ALSO BASED OFF MY EXPERIENCE WITH AGONIZING TOOTH PAIN. I LOVE DESCRIBING PAIN #ALSO so i have limits with how Gross i draw gore. like i cant stand puss or anythign too gnarly like eeeeww i dont like it too yucky #EVEN SO. THIS WOUND? FESTERING? BLISTERING? HOOOWWW FUN EHEHE i wanted to make this wound look PAINFUL and AWFUL and GROSS but not TOO GROS #OH TURN UR BRIGHTNESS UP FOR THIS ONE BTW #THERE ARE THINGS HIDDEN IN THE DARK AND ALSO THE COLORS LOOK LIKE SHIT ON MY DARKER MONITER #im also rly proud o the colors... pink blood on chest vs blue blood on face. the STICKYNESS. BEHOLD MY VISCOSITY. the splatter. the pain.#OKAY OKAy i think im done ramblin for now #if u read all this thankuuuu i loove yooouu

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hopepetal · 1 year

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Part nine pog :D I have no strong feelings about this one but hey at least it's done hallelujah

We have some content warnings for this one! Graphic depictions of violence, murder, blood, kinda cannibalism ig?

Masterlist

@applestruda @stiffyck

Magic is a fickle thing.

When people are born, they all have life energy. This is what keeps them, well, alive. It is the beat of their heart, pumping blood through their veins. It is the inhale and exhale of air, the hum of the earth and the music of the stars. It is the feeling of peace one has when finally laying down in their soft bed after a long day. It is the joy in laughter, the tenderness in love, and the healing after heartbreak.

To say someone is born with magic would be, while widely socially acceptable, is factually incorrect. To be born with magic is to be born with a surplus of life energy that manifests itself in what everyone calls “magic”. Hence, magic is not something anyone is born with, but rather a side effect of life itself. Magic is energy, and a very demanding energy at that one. It must be used, for otherwise it will build and build until it breaks through whatever tried to hold it in.

For Scar, his magic was like water. The less he used it, the more he held it in and tried to control it, the hotter it got. Every time he suppressed the growing urge to transform, the pressure built. Soon, it was as though his magic was simmering under his skin, just about ready to boil over if he wasn’t careful. It was harder than he would’ve ever thought. Borrowed magic, contractual magic, or otherwise non-naturally received types of magic were much more heavily reliant on emotions than magic one got naturally, and the past few days had been… emotionally charged, to say the least.

Scar knew that Grian had noticed his condition. At this point, he couldn’t do anything about the white streak in his hair or the soft glow to his eyes. His fingers had begun to become pointed into claws that pierced through the palms of his hands whenever he clenched his fists, drawing blood. The avian was glancing over at him in concern, every so often leaning slightly closer and brushing his shoulder against Scar.

“I know,” Scar had whispered when Grian’s eyes flicked up to his white hair. He had shrugged, trying to keep a handle on the worry that was beginning to rise in his chest. He had never gone this long without using his magic before, ever since he got it he had always done his best to go along with his instincts and general “magic urges”. Cub had told him it would be bad if he fought his magic.

But going along with his instincts and letting his magic get the best of him was the whole reason he was in this mess. He hurt his friends. This was just the price he had to pay for his mistake.

Grian and Scar were walking along in silence for the most part now, with Opal and Fern both in front of them, talking too softly to be understood by the two walking behind them. Every so often Opal or Fern would look back to check on their captives, but for the most part Grian and Scar were left unsupervised.

Which gave Grian the time he needed to cut through the ropes tying his hands together behind his back. Brushing his shoulder against Scar to get the other man’s attention, he grinned and held up the cut ropes with one hand and used the other to press a finger against his lips in a silent shushing motion. He shuffled over to be right against Scar, starting to work on the other man’s bonds.

Opal and Fern seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion, meaning they weren’t paying any attention to the two knights walking behind them. Scar felt the ropes around his wrists loosening, then finally dropping. He fought the urge to shake his arms out to get the blood flowing again, settling with rubbing his hands together and interlacing his fingers behind his back. His eyes met Grian’s and he tried to silently ask what the plan was. Met with nothing but a shrug, Scar had to hold back a groan.

Oh boy. They were both going to die.

So focused on the fact that they didn’t have a plan, Scar didn’t notice that Fern and Opal had stopped walking. He slammed right into Fern, which caused him to yelp and stumble back. The two turned around as Grian cursed and drew the small dagger he had been hiding, flaring his wings out in an instinctual defense mechanism to make himself look larger than he actually was. In doing so, he pushed Scar behind him and obscured the other knight from their captors.

There was no time for talking then. Fern and Opal instantly drew their weapons and attacked, and Grian was barely able to keep up. It was over too quickly for Scar to do anything- one moment Grian was standing and shouting insults at their captors, and the next he was pinned to the ground on his stomach and Fern’s sword was at Scar’s throat.

Scar put his hands up, smiling nervously. “Hey, hey now, there’s no need for that!” His eyes flicked over to Grian, who was struggling against Opal as she put a knee on his back between his wings. “Hey, be careful!”

Fern pressed their sword against Scar’s throat, just hard enough to draw blood. “Shut up,” she snapped, before glancing back to Opal. “You got more rope?”

“Yeah,” Opal grunted, still trying to keep Grian down, “but not enough for these stupid-” She squawked when one of Grian’s wings, which she had been so desperately trying to pin down, smacked her in the face- “these stupid wings! Void, will you stop?!”

“Let us go!” Grian shouted, trying to kick at Opal, his wings still beating the ground as he attempted to get her off of him. “You’ll regret this, just you wait!”

Opal let out a frustrated growl, her hand tightening around the hilt of her sword. For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, glancing over at Fern. Her eyes were dark, and Scar felt anxiety rise in his chest as she spoke. “You have a health pot in your bag, right?”

Fern frowned, keeping her sword at Scar’s neck as she nodded. “Yeah, I have a few. Always do. Why-”

Opal interrupted Fern as she stomped down on one of Grian’s wings, earning a shriek from the avian as the limb was pinned down. “I’m cutting off these stupid wings.” With that, she raised her sword to do the deed.

Over the course of four or five days- really, who was counting anymore- Scar had been suppressing his vex magic. It showed in his too-sharp nails, his eyes that had turned an icy blue, and his fading hair color. It showed in the slight tremors in his hands, the bags under his eyes, the pain that just kept building and building in his chest as he tried to hide an essential part of himself.

Magic does not fade. Once in existence, it will continue to circulate until it is used. When a person uses external magic without a spell focus or an idea of what they’re doing, they are simply putting their magic back out into the world, allowing it to become ambient magic. When a spell is chanted, or used with intent, the magic forms into something real. Of course, this is only for those who use external magic- for Scar, a user of internal magic like transformation, things are a bit different.

For internal magic, the basics are the same. It does not fade. But unlike with external magic, internal magic does not have anywhere to go. It cannot become ambient magic and rejoin a cycle through the world like external magic. It can only build up until eventually, it forces itself to be used.

Scar’s vex magic, being internal, was influenced by emotion. Not so much where he would get scared and his hair would turn white, but when he felt a strong enough emotion, he would change much more easily than normal. For example, a strong feeling of rage would leave him with glowing eyes and white hair for a while, until he could get himself calm at least. And that was just on a normal day.

Scar’s vex magic had been building up for the past few days. It was simmering under his skin, a raging tide ready to break free at any moment.

And break free it did.

Scar’s eyes burned blue as the color instantly fled from his hair, his skin changing to be the grey-blue of the vex. His nails sharpened into talons and a growl ripped from his throat as he grabbed the blade of the sword and yanked it away from Fern, not caring that his hand cut and bled. Fern let out a panicked shout as they stumbled back, giving Opal pause. She looked over just in time to see Scar lunge forward and tear through Fern’s chainmail chestplate, talons ripping through both armor and flesh.

Fern let out a choked wail as they fell back, blood pouring from the wound as she frantically tried to put pressure on her injury to stop the bleeding. Opal pulled her sword away from Grian and swung it at Scar, but it was too late. The vex was already right in front of her, and with a cruel snarl, he bit down on her throat before tearing away a huge chunk of her flesh. Choking on her own blood, Opal fell.

Scar let out a roar of anger, the sound haunting as it echoed throughout the forest. In the distance, a wolf howled in response. The sound of a goat horn cut through the screams of death and panic, and Scar whipped around to see Fern blowing into the horn. His anger surged, and as fast as lightning he was at Fern’s side, yanking her up by the collar of her shirt. “You,” he growled, his voice echoing with magic, “what have you done?”

Fern spat in his face, and in return Scar tore out her throat. Throwing her body to the ground, Scar looked around, his brain screaming at him to find them all kill them they hurt you they hurt your friends-

But so did you.

A haunting wail rose from his throat as he sank to the forest floor, knees hitting the dirt with a painful thump as his magic continued to rage and swirl around him. The veritable hurricane of magic formed misty blue ribbons of smoke around him, miniature bolts of lightning at his fingertips as sparks of raw, burning magic flew from his glowing eyes. Blood dripped from his chin and talons as he screamed in agony, failure echoing in his voice. Hugging himself tightly, his talons dug into his skin, drawing small beads of blood that dribbled down contrasting blue skin in bright scarlet red.

The howl of a wolf sounded again, this time much closer. Scar could hear there was someone shouting- his name he thinks, but he can’t hear much over the magic roaring around him, whipping his magic-bleached hair in his face. His eyes were now glowing completely, shining like miniature suns as the magic just kept pouring out of him. The dam had burst, and it was impossible for him to stop it.

There were more people now, Scar could see a faint blur of red and white through the haze of magic. He let out an echoing cry, reaching out with bloodied hands toward whoever was there, his anger and fear giving way to a crushing loneliness and grief. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He had never meant to hurt anyone, really! He just messed up- he always did, why was anyone surprised- and… and he just…

“Scar! Scar, can you hear me? It’s okay, please. We’re here for you.” Grian. That was Grian, that was his friend… “Come on, please, it’s okay. We’re all here for you, and we’re not leaving you ever. No matter what. Promise.”

The magic died out as soon as it began, and Scar felt himself hit the ground. Darkness descended, and with one last sob, he let go of consciousness.

Impulse and Mumbo followed behind Pearl as she led them through the forest. They had left their horses back further in a secure location with plenty of food and water. They would be a lot more stealthy on foot, Pearl had explained, and the other two agreed.

Impulse had frowned when Pearl said she’d be bringing Tilly. “I don’t see how the dog is crucial to the stealth mission, but…”

“Excuse you!” Pearl had exclaimed in mock offense, “Tilly is very important! Yes you are girl, oh yes you are!” And with that, they had set off, with the dog that Pearl kept insisting was a wild wolf.

They had been close to their destination when they heard screaming, and the sound of a goat horn. Tilly howled, and Pearl stiffened up, looking back at Mumbo and Impulse. “Something’s wrong.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” Mumbo muttered, and the three had taken off in the direction of the commotion.

When they had gotten there, it took all Mumbo had to not freeze up in horror. Scar was in his vex form on his knees, magic as sharp as a blade swirling around him. He was covered in blood that Mumbo could only hope was not his own- something he confirmed upon seeing the two bodies next to Scar.

Glancing over, he noticed Grian on the ground, struggling to push himself up. He rushed over and helped the avian to his feet, checking him over to make sure he had no grievous wounds. “Grian! What happened- are you alright?!”

Grian winced, nodding. “Scar, he’s- I need to help him!” He sounded desperate, and Mumbo had to hold him back to keep him from running straight to the vex.

“It’s dangerous!” Mumbo warned him, “do you see that magic? You’ll be ripped to shreds!”

Grian pushed Mumbo away. “We’re knights! It’s an occupational hazard!” He took a few steps forward, before kneeling down and calling out to Scar.

As he spoke, Tilly began to growl. Pearl glared at the treeline, drawing her sword. “Others are coming. Most likely summoned from that goat horn.” She looked back at Mumbo and Impulse. “I need you two to get Grian and Scar out of here, alright? I can handle this.”

Impulse shook his head, stepping forward. “Absolutely not. We’re knights. We stick together.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow. “Are you doubting my capabilities? Go. Grian and Scar need you more than I do.”

Mumbo turned to look back at Grian and Scar as the magic storm died down, the color seeping back into Scar’s hair as he collapsed. Grian caught the other knight and held him close, though he looked close to passing out himself. Mumbo brushed his hand against Impulse’s arm, jerking his head toward the two other knights. “Pearl’s right. We should go.”

Reluctantly, Impulse nodded and sheathed his sword. “Right, then. We’ll meet you back at the horses?”

The sound of footsteps and faint shouting grew louder as Pearl nodded. Impulse scooped Scar up, and Mumbo helped Grian to his feet. “I’ll see you all soon.” She turned away, pulling up her hood and facing the sound of the approaching enemies. Tilly padded up to stand beside her, growling softly.

Impulse looked over at Mumbo and smiled wearily. “Let’s get out of here.”

By the time they were back at the horses, Pearl was already there- covered in blood and smiling brightly, but there nonetheless. Grian had passed out halfway through the trip and was now being carried by Mumbo, though there were moments of semi-consciousness that made the mustachioed man chuckle.

Carefully, the unconscious knights were settled on the horses, with Impulse sitting behind Scar and Mumbo sitting behind Grian to keep them steady. Pearl spread her wings, saying she’d watch from above and keep an eye out for them all.

Slowly but surely, they began the long journey home.

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itty-bitty-sunshine · 8 months

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im curious, how did perkeo become immortal? you say theyre the dont age dont die type but theyve still aged to the point of an average adult. so was there a point where they became immortal? were they born immortal but still aged to the point where they seemed like the average human then stopped?

this is a bit more morbid but im curious about this too

how severe can injuries get if they cant die? how does their body handle situations where the average person would bleed out? would they heal faster? would they just have infinite blood? what if they got into a coma? would they ever wake up? or is it just not possible? how would they heal from injuries that would make it impossible for the average person to come back?

if youre not willing to answer the second stuff thats fine, im just really curious

They do not remember

The earliest memory they have is on the kingdom, and they were already a grown person by then

They remember kneeling, the agreement made with the king

They remember tests, and them stopping with lack of results

They remember doing their job afterwards, and the years that went on as they remained the same

They remember making people smile and laugh and how they cherished that feeling more than anything

That does not mean they never had a family, though

Morbid details under cut

Very. They had to crawl their way out of things no human could even dream of surviving, things no one should have survived — or even lived enough through it as it happened

They can still get dizzy, they can still faint, things can go to black, but eventually their brain will pull them back awake again. Die, but come back

The wound would close, but they can bleed out. They can feel the dizziness, the cold, the pain. If severe enough, they could pass out — either until the wound closes or until their brain decides it gotta keep fighting still. That said, they very likely could deal with a stab wound without passing out if outside factors are not included (if anything, they would just be annoyed)

Sewing a wound would likely make it close faster than leaving it alone

Their heart would always start beating again even after stopping, so I guess you could say they have infinite blood?

They would wake up from a coma I'm pretty sure (how long it would take would depend on the cause), unless it was like, medically induced (which would mean constant upkeep to keep em like that) because yk. Strong drugs

They do heal from injuries that would be impossible for a normal person to survive. Their body puts itself back together – and when it can't, it just makes a new part to compensate

So, for example: let's say they get decapitated. They could put the head back on the neck, and the body would work to glue the two together again

Now, let's say they lost a leg and for some reason could not try to put the leg back in place: then the body would make a new leg. It would take a lot longer, and be infinitely more painful, but it would be back in place one way or another

(Now for what happens to the lost limb — idk it probably rots as the body regens. They are already immortal, might as well throw some nonsense in the mix)

How can they grab their own head and put it back? Idk that's too much to keep track of. Maybe magic who knows

Also! Burned skin will heal and fade, take that was you will

Essentially I would say it's just kind of nightmarish but they do heal pretty fast (how fast? Idk, but pretty fast), and that they would also be pretty used to some level of pain rn

#dont worry im more than willing to talk about this kind of things #surprisingly i thought a lot about it because i wanted it to be more biologically-based than just magically and painlessly fixing yourself #though theres still some holes where and there that i could not fill #whatever angst i could throw into this story i did #this au is deep wounds disguised as hope and never ending search for a better ending #they had to crawl their way through hell. but they will have their happy ending #its the least they could have after creating them for so many people #dca au #immortal au #immortal au ask #cw mortality #cw: gore #tw gore #cw loss of limbs #cw amputation #graphic depictions of violence #cw graphic depictions of violence #cw character death #cw medical trauma #(?)#idk putting it just in case #cw decapitation #cw blood #blood #im not good with cw so if theres anything else i should put please let me know and im so sorry in advance #cw coma #?

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noneofusareverno · 5 months

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Saturn Devouring His Son, 1636

by Peter Paul Rubens

Saturno devorando a uno de sus niños, 1819-1823 (1/10th of the Black Paintings)

by Francisco de Goya

#this has been in my drafts since dec 2021 #cw depictions of gore??#reboot #saturn devouring his son #art #Paul Peter rubens #francisco de goya #francisco goya #baroque #romanticism #greek mythology #Greek myth #roman mythology #black paintings

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kayzero · 5 months

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So I had an anxiety attack came up with a theory that if I put forth energy on January 1 then I will sow similar energy throughout the new year—for example, if I don’t sleep at all from midnight to midnight then surely this year I will have more energy in general. (My anxiety takes pleasure in consorting with my insomnia.)

In that spirit, because I want to actually write more Zero Win Game and just write more in general this year (there was an impressively small amount of words written by me overall in 2023), here’s…

A random fucking monologue by Akane that popped into my head while I was waiting for FF7R to download. It has now been an hour and a half since I started that download, and it gave me an estimate of about ten minutes.

…I’m pretty sure I can’t fit this into the Fragment where it originated from. “We have sixty minutes to escape or we all die but I guess we can indulge little miss Reversed Moon Arcana in one of her deranged fucking monologues.” I dunno. If you find yourself reading this aloud can you time how long it takes you?

Actually you know what, fuck it, I’ll shoehorn it in. It’ll be my own little Ice-9 lecture.

(Time yourself anyway I’m curious.)

“Akane, can you tell me what you remember from today?”

…

I remember…

Isn’t that funny? I remember. They said I wouldn’t, but I do, they said they’d be muddled, but they’re clear, I can see them so clearly.

They said they wouldn’t inject me, but they lied. They said it would make me forget—I guess they lied. They must have lied. I didn’t forget, I remember. I can see…

No. I can’t see them. I can’t see it.

I was looking at you.

But I can feel it. I feel it straining, fighting against me, getting stuck—it won’t turn, the wheel has to turn, the wheel always turns, the wheel can’t get stuck, it can’t stop, except when it does. Sometimes it does stop. The wheel stopped. And I had to push it to get it to turn again, WHY AM I ALWAYS THE ONE WHO HAS TO PUSH?!

I feel the moment that I push too far, but it’s not too far, it’s exactly far enough, I had to push you this, far, or else people would’ve just been hurt with nothing to show for it. I know it hurts, but I can’t just stop when it hurts, or else other people get hurt, everybody else gets hurt—so isn’t it better that I hurt just a few people, isn’t it better that I push you not too far, it’s never too far, it’s just far enough to change you forever, shatter your fragile humanity and make you something…

Less. A pile of ash that used to be a scared little sister. Then more. A functionally immortal being that can see and speak into the future, into the past, into a different present where someone was shot instead of spared, a proto-god that can see everything everywhere and everywhen… that used to be a scared little sister.

…Was she scared, do you think?

Her blood was warm when it hit my back, warm like an embrace, like the final embrace she’d ever give to anyone ever again in this timeline, and she gave it to me instead of her soon-to-be-grieving brother.

It didn’t dry. I would’ve felt it if it did. They must’ve cleaned me up. How considerate of our kidnappers, to respect proper hygiene as they force us to kill each other. Don’t share needles! Don’t injest mysterious substances! Don’t walk around covered in the blood of your victims!

God, I can smell it. It’s weird that I can smell it, it’s weird that it’s so overpowering, ‘cause isn’t blood supposed to be odourless? It’s not the blood that’s so overbearing, not really, it’s the iron in the hemoglobin trying to do its duty of carrying oxygen throughout the bloodstream, and it’s the iron that reacts to the oxygen in the air, and there was so much hemoglobin, there was so, much, iron. But it isn’t completely overwhelming, blood is supposed to be odourless, after all, and there’s only so much iron, it only takes up so much of the blood that’s spilled.

You’d wish it was completely overwhelming. I wish it was, at least. Because then it would mask the other scents, the worse scents. The scents of human waste being released upon death—because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you die. When you’re alive, you’re so tense, you’re so clenched, you keep everything inside, you just hold it deep inside, and you never let it out, you can’t let it out, you keep it bottled up forever, no matter what, no matter who—but when you die, the part of your brain telling everything to tense up dies first, and every other part of you forcibly relaxes, and everything comes rushing out, and everyone will know what was hiding inside this whole time.

Assumably. It’s never really happened to me, relaxing is for other people to do once I’m done, not that I’m ever done, ‘cause I always have to push. I don’t get to relax, not even in death.

…I can hear it.

Pulling. Screaming. Tearing. Splashing.

Ends are always so loud.

A quiet death would be nice, I think. I’ve never experienced one before. It’s always loud. Useless pounding and roaring jets, futile arguments and falling axes, reminiscence and splashing water

Yeah… When I’m finally done… When it’s my turn to relax…

I just want everything…

To be…

……

I’m sorry, what were we talking about?

#zwg #zero win game #zwg spoilers #cw blood #cw gore #cw graphic #i don’t actually know how to tag ‘a graphic depiction of waste release upon death’#there. that’s a tag.#zero escape #zero time dilemma #akane kurashiki #you know something? this was originally like. half of the monologue.#in my head she goes on to talk about other rounds as well #and then i started to write and i’m pretty sure akane kurashiki just fucking possessed me #maybe there will be a part 2 after i post the rest of this timeline #if i remember

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cavalrysystem · 3 months

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How Janus got his scars.

Tw: abuse, graphic depictions of violence, unsympathetic!Virgil, blood and gore.

(Fic under the cut)

The argument had started off so small.

Janus had been telling Virgil he wanted Virgil to stop drinking, and to put the bottle of bourbon down.

"You fucking slut!" Virgil screamed, smashing the bottle against the wall. He stared at Janus, face flushed from drinking, vision blurry.

Janus flinched when the bottle shattered, and put his hands up, palms out, to show he meant no harm. "Virgil, my love, please- you've burned through three bottlessss alrea-"

"Shut up!" Virgil screamed, grabbing Janus by the hair and forcing him to come closer, a clump of Janus's hair falling after he slammed the broken end of the bottle into Janus's eye.

Janus stumbled back, hands touching his face. Cold blood began to pour from around his eye, and the side of his mouth. He breathing shakily and looked up at Virgil. "Virgil, I'm ssssorry! But you can't keep doing thissss!"

Virgil grabbed Janus by the neck.

"Virgil, ssstop!" Janus cried, as Virgil sliced open his human cheek with the end of the broken bottle.

"You don't fucking talk to me like that, you whore." Virgil threw Janus to the ground and kicked him. "Don't get blood on my fucking carpet." He spat on Janus, and walked off.

Laying there, hands pressed to the wounds on his face, Janus began crying. But only from his human eye. Snakes can't cry, after all. He slowly sits up, taking a shuddering breath and using his extra hands to push himself up. The young deceitful side felt his way to the bathroom, turned on the sink, and splashed his face with water.

Dark crimson blood stained the marble countertop and the steel inside of the sink. Janus placed his gloved hands, now stained with blood, on the counter and looked in the mirror, eyes still wide. He was met with the sight of blood pouring down his face, his hair ruined from Virgil pulling out a massive clump of it.

He felt frozen, staring at his reflection. His vision began to grow spotty, and he quickly finished cleaning the blood off his face. He searched the cabinets for a healing plant or potion or something- he found a bundle of the plant Remus had discovered in the imagination that would heal wounds. He untied the bundle and ate the plants quickly, slowly starting to calm down.

He checked his phone. Another apology text from Virgil. Janus wiped the tears off his cheeks and cleaned the sink and countertop.

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its-desca · 9 months

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Not paying attention in class is my favorite hobby Anyways

#ultrakill #Ultrakill v1 #v1 #v1 Ultrakill #I’m tagging filth he deserves it #cw #gun #blood #this game contains realistic depictions of blood and gore #filth #filth Ultrakill #Ultrakill filth #my little scrungly wungly #my art

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14dayswithyou · 2 years

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what kind of streams does ren do? 🥰🖤

✦゜ANSWERED: Oh you know.... your typical live streams :)

Ren went through a "phase" where he would livestream with his... favourite victims on the dark web; in which he would often cut out and disembowel their organs and sell them to the highest donators. This also included any dirt/blackmail material he found as an added bonus, and Ren would use all the money he earned to upgrade his tools and set-up.

Granted, this "phase" was very short-lived and only happened when his victims got a bit too close and personal with you. Ren eventually stopped doing it altogether once he lost interest in the activity, and found that he could be better spending his time watching you instead. He much prefers learning about his victim's psyche and using it against them anyways, since people are ultimately more useful to him when they're alive rather than dead.

After all, he can't blackmail a corpse into ruining their image and convincing you to cut ties with them ^^

#💌 — answered.#💖 — about ren.#queued post #cw gore #cw depictions of gore #cw torture #please let me know if you'd like this tagged as anything else!!

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jrwi-fic-recs · 3 months

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And with all your grief in my arms (I am losing you to the sea)

by Solkatter

Underneath an endless canopy of shimmering stars, with each step accompanied by the grinding of black sand beneath their feet, the echoes of forgotten lives converge and intertwine, unveiling secrets left untold.

Word Count: 8,440

Status: Not Complete (1/2)

Submitted by @soupiguess

Please always remember to read the tags!

#riptide #spoilers from episode 115 #derealization #cw: gore #fnc #gillion x chip #angst #hurt/comfort #canon divergence #graphic depictions of violence #gillion tidestrider #chip jrwi #jrwi #jrwi fanfiction #jrwi fic rec

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lostcauseinc · 19 days

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Heyy it’s the silly lagomorph again! :3

I saw your latest post and it reminds me of this fantasy I have of something similar so I thought I should let you know <3

I sometimes fantasize about being kidnapped by a very meticulous serial killer who would keep me chained up in a cramped, yet clean, basement. It’s dark but I can not a single molecule of dust on anything through my teary eyes.

Back to me being chained up. The first time I wake up they begin cutting up my clothing with surgical scissors but pays no mind to my bits that would arouse them! They’re after something different. After I scream and write and cry at being thrown in such an imminently dangerous scenario. But no matter how much I struggle I barely move an inch. Even if I wanted to, moving would only make what follows more painful than it has to be…

They slowly and carefully cut off pieces off me in ways where I wouldn’t instantly start bleeding out. Chunks of my skin and flesh sliced off like I’m a pig to a skilled butcher. Smiling every time he hears me coo and whine in pain and discomfort at seeing my own inside out. I sob and beg for them to stop. Does a scientist listen to the croaks of a frog they’re dissecting?

They enjoy the thrill of examining my inner parts, taking pleasure in showing them to me like I’m meant to congratulate them on their fine work. And when I continue to beg for mercy, they get annoyed…

“Quit it. It’ll end sooner if you don’t.”

So that’s the thing! Hope you enjoyed!

-Your Dearest 🐇

(P.S: There is a different version involving cannibalism but I’m not sure how you see that)

(P.P.S: (hehe pp) i also saw your post about the less nsfw sides of sibcest/fauxcest and I do plan on writing out a thought for that too <3)

This gave me such vivid memories of being younger and reading the most gorey, awful pieces of fiction I could. Trying to learn how to flay skin so it doesn't bleed all too much, where to cut without hitting anything vital, using different substances to slow down a victim's system so the shock doesn't hit them quite as fast.

I would just sit and fantasize about the idea of butchering someone or being butchered. It's genuinely wild to hear someone recite my own old fantasies back to me, like deja vu but drenched in familiar blood.

I don't think I can add too much more here, you've really written everything out exactly as I would've envisioned it. Although I will offer a thought I've always liked; your captor promising you that if you just hang in there long enough, they'll fix you up and you can go home. Giving you some little piece of hope to cling onto so you don't just give in to the wooziness of blood loss and let your conciousness slip. Assuring you over and over again that just a little more, and then we'll be all done. Won't that be nice? I'll fix you right up and you'll be just fine.

And you're too far gone to really piece together the fact that you're not surviving this, that you're never seeing the outside of this awful room again. So you cling on for dear life, giving them more time to play with you as you writhe in agony and cry out in pain, not realizing you’re giving them exactly what they want.

Maybe they pull little pieces from you slowly, methodically, always holding them up in the light and demanding you look at it. Explaining exactly what that part of your body is called, what it does, what happens to you when it's removed. And if you dare to look away they grab your face and force you to look, to take in the art they're presenting to you. Blood and tears mixing on your cheeks as you try your hardest to obey.

Time all just bleeds into this nonsensical mess, and you can’t tell if it’s been minutes or hours or days since they started working on you. Maybe they let you fade in and out of consciousness, keeping you alive for far too long until you finally bleed out.

I honestly forgot what a pretty mental image it all is. Thank you for the reminder. 🖤 I may or may not sit here and obsess over the idea of being an observer to the whole ordeal, holding your hand and encouraging you to hang on just a little longer and getting to see the pretty look of betrayal in your eyes every time you see me. Or cutting you up myself, even if I couldn’t be precise enough to keep you alive long. I think either would be a lovely time.

I did very much enjoy, little rabbit. You've got such a way with words (a horribly rotten way, but I'm a fan, personally). And don’t think I wouldn’t appreciate cannibalism… or any other awful thoughts you’ve got bouncing around in your little head, for that matter. It’s cute how much effort you put into sharing them with me. You’ve been doing a fantastic job so far.

(I thought I posted this already? Why is it in my drafts? I’m sorry to keep you waiting, little sib.)

#🐇 anon #cw: gore #gore kink #cnc kidnapping #autassassinophilia #erotophonophilia #graphic depictions of violence #but in a cute way #like aww aren’t you adorable I’m going to disembowel you #disembowelment #that’s a tag???#okay I’ll stop goofing off in the tags #lostresponds

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