#creepy beat

[deadsetobsessions]

Between the whole “clone trying to kill her original version” thing and the whole “trying to find herself after being freed from the millionaire fruit loop halfa” thing, Danielle “Ellie” Phantom figured that she’d fit right in with Gotham.

They’ve got shades, a concerning amount of undead, and the people there seem to have traumatic backstories galore. Perfect.

Danny might die again if she told him where she’s staying, though. So she won’t tell him!

Ellie touched down in an alley near the first bus stop into Gotham, returning to the visible spectrum and returning her intangibility. She wanted to explore everything, and where better to start than the entrance of Gotham?

She slips out of the alley, walking past the terrified looking tourists. Ellie ignores the smell of soot they gave off, attributing correctly that it came from the explosion she heard before she approached Gotham. The city, like any other major city, was littered with trash and odd bits of metal. There’s graffiti too, but less so than the sunnier cities. The clouds- and smog, because Ellie could smell it miles away from the city- that obscured the sky left the city in a chilling atmosphere. Hazy. Like, a graveyard at dawn. Perfect for someone like Ellie.

It’s so different from Amity, stone where she dreaded plaster, gloom and doom where she dreaded seeing sunshine she couldn’t reach. 

Ellie wandered, under bridges, and in between paths. She danced through shootouts, glides past brawls, laughs when pick pockets find their hands empty after bumping into her.

She gets a coffee and one of those delicious lemon bars, with Vlad’s money. Hers, now that Tucker’s gotten his hands on Vlad’s inner systems. The barista gives her a suspicious look, but she brings out her strongest midwestern accent and the look melts into exasperation. And pity, but Ellie doesn’t really care about that. She “ooh’s and ahh’s” at the grimy stone, the gothic inspired architecture that Sam would kill to experience, goggles at the boarded up buildings. There’s a cathedral or two or five, she doesn’t remember, but the pretty glass seems to be broken at most of them. She wonders what happened. Then she remembers that there are vigilantes here, and concludes that she has to remember to look up more often. A giant clock-tower. A district with less people and fancier homes. A university! She might apply after she’s done traveling around and have gotten her GED.

Her shoes pound the pavement, something about the effort it takes to take a step burns in her soul. Yes, this is what it means to be free. She kicks the knees of two would be robbers in as she passes them on her way to purchasing three bars of the best chocolates she’s had in her short existence.

The cashier looks at her like she’s odd. Oh, well.

And then night falls. Ancients, does the city truly come alive. There are screams and sirens and surges in ectoplasm that balances her essence of being out. Ellie, with a new pep in her step, follows the trail of ectoplasm right into an area called “Crime Alley.”

“It feels almost like… a haunt…?”

Ellie hums and keeps walking. Maybe this is the territory of one of the undead Gothamites…?

She’s got a bit of Danny’s saving people thing after all, because the three bars of candy on her is gone in minutes to children with hollow cheek and dead eyes. 



Ellie startles backwards as a body slams onto the pavement in front of her, barely missing the risen steps of the building they were in front of.

“Oh.” She says. Because this is one of the Undead. And he’s Red Hood. Danny is going to flip.

“Run- run, kid.”

Ellie tilts her head. “And why would I do that?”

“You’re gonna get hurt, brat!” The man barks, and winces as his ribs shuttered. The red helmet’s tinny voice doesn’t intimidate her nor does it hide the concern and fear bleeding into the guy’s body language.

“Not really?”

And with that, Ellie slams her elbow into Goon 1, knocking him straight into another building. Goon 2 tries to grab her and she phases out of his reach, floating upwards and slamming her fist into his face. He joins Goon 1 in decorating that building’s new mural, called the two dumbasses that picked a fight with a wandering Ellie.

Hood watches her, cradling his ribs.

“You a meta?” He grumbled at her, wheezing as she crouched down and poked his sides. He smacks her hand away.

Ellie, who has clearly spent too much time near Danny, replies, “Being dead is a medical condition.” without missing a single beat.

Hood, on the other hand, misses several beats.

“What?”

Ellie barrels on, amused at his fumble. “Did you know you died?”

Hood looks at her and Ellie swears she can see the dumbfounded expression.

Ellie laughs, free and sharp. Yes, Gotham is nothing like Amity.

#Gotham #Gothamites meeting Ellie and going this kid is gonna die #(fondly) #Ellie: you can not kill me in any way that matters #Ellie: I’m gonna do all the dangerous stuff #red hood #Jason told #creepy danielle lol #dc x dp #dpxdc #danielle phantom #ellie phantom #Ellie thinks beating people up is part of the tourist experience

[cursedzucchini]

Danny working as a batburger employee.

And now I know that ain't the most original thing on this website, but consider;

When Danny comes into contact with food, it gains sentience.

I mean imagine the jokerized fries coming alive trying to kill each other, bc there can be only one, before seeing the real joker and immediately forming a team to take that bitch down.

Or the poison ivy salad (I think) combining their powers together to try and kill whoever bought them.

Or the batburger hiding in the shadows.

Or like literally anything you can think of.

Just Danny, tired employee, trying to convince ppl to buy normal fries, bc if he gotta deal w the joker version one more fucking time he's burning this whole place down.

Or just trying to convince the food to stay on the plate. (And stabbing it to place if necessary)

So I'm not sure if anyone thought of this, but this is my vision ✋✨✨✨✨🤚

#batburger au #danny batburger employee #danny fenton #dcxdp #crossover #dpxdc #dpxdc writing prompt #writing prompt #like.danny just going /so you really think its ok to order something named after a guy who killed a child huh🤨🤨🤨/ #jason who came to investigate /.../ #idk this could be so much fun just the fries trying to beat up joker on live tv and danny jumping after them #trying to pick them up but also 'accidentaly' kicking the joker once or twice #........or maybe hes just beating him up to listen creepy clowns are creepy- #at one point i think the fries should just develop a mouth and laugh creepily #idk what im doing w my life #why

[kenobihater]

of all the star wars movies, which of them do y'all 1) enjoy the most 2) consider the best quality and 3) think you've rewatched the most. add your answers in the reblogs or replies, i'm genuinely curious how much of an overlap there is within everyone's three answers. mine don't overlap at all! they're revenge of the sith, empire strikes back, and the force awakens :^)

#len speaks #star wars #revenge of the sith #empire strikes back #the force awakens #not tagging more films than that bc i cant b bothered. incoming tag ramble ahead bc i have sw brainrot rn and im making it everyones prob❤️ #i rlly struggled 2 remember if id watched tfa or aotc more. i went w/ tfa bc it was formative to me as a teen and ive seen it probably 6ish #times? whereas aotc was the first sw movie i remember (specifically the scene of obiwan serving c*nt in the bar lmao) but i've only seen it #for sure 4.5 and maybe 5.5 times. the .5 is from when i got bored after obi-wan's scene ended and ran off to go play in the mud or smthn 😭 #i'm sure tfa will eventually get surpassed in number of rewatches by aotc and rots bc i don't fw the direction of the ST but that's my #current ballpark estimate of my total number of rewatches #as an adult tho if i just wanna watch a star war i'll go with aotc bc it's fun and ends semihappily and i can turn my brain off for the #spinny lightsabers. it's great background noise or for if you're sick or whatever. rots on the other hand? i won't talk through that unless #i'm quoting it with my brother and i am LOCKED IN 100% entirely entranced by it all #i almost picked rogue one for the best quality answer but i think the character writing is weaker and the facial cgi is creepy. esb beats #it by a hair imho bc of that. the vader hallway scene goes hard tho!!! #also i'm not covering shows or games or books or anything else in this post - simply the films. might ask abt shows later but that might #also give me hives bc so many of the shows suck ass and i don't rlly want ppl extolling the virtues of t.bb in my notes 💀 #and yes i do think one's enjoyment and one's opinion of quality are two things that often overlap. but sometimes you just like something #bad and that's awesome. like rots is the best of the prequels by a large margin and i adore the opening and characters and many of the #scenes but that doesn't mean it's the best star wars has to offer ykwim? it's my specialest most favoritest sw movie but that doesn't blind #me to the dialogue lmfaooo

[chasingthe2000s]

Lil timeline sheet

#Jeff is VERY young when the accident takes place #theres actually two accidents haha #what an unlucky chap #him and liu get the shit beat out of them as brothers ❤️ #dont mind that i got too lazy to draw Doug or Frank they're cool guys #gran is a national treasure #so is 10 year old jeff #theyre precious together #creepypasta #jeff the killer #creepypasta art #creepy pasta #jtk #digital art #jeffery woods #art #jeffthekiller #liu woods #homicidal liu #cottagedragon6666 #cottagedragon

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Ok do the thousands of Bethyl shippers realize it means they're headcanoning Daryl as a pedophile or

#a 40-something dating a 18yo is weird enough but I'm pretty damn sure she wasn't even 18 yet. And they MET when she was 16. #I'm mad because I wanna draw them. Their season 4 episodes were great. But it was platonic. FAMILIAL. #Daryl was like her cool uncle not her *creepy* uncle ffs #did he *really* treat her any differently than he would the rest of his close family in their situation? Be honest. #a man and a pretty young woman have any kind of chemistry and y'all lose your minds #christ on a stick she called him her chaperone. ''mr dixon''. she was being sarcastic but it's literally true #I know Norman and Emily can be kinda flirty but she's fucking 40. BETH aint! #that dude with the claimers was talking smack about him 'losing some tail' and 'it was one of the young ones wasn't it' #and Daryl was boutta beat his ass for that #and I know it's because he was being a deisrespectful asshole but I like to think it's also because That's Gross Bitch #anyways #I really really hate this ship is what I'm saying #twd #I aint tryna pspsps y'all though so #anti bethyl

[wintersleep80]

#heart gif #beating heart gif #gothic #goth aesthetic #goth #dark aesthetic #creepy #horror

[whump-mania]

Alright, here's my idea.

A whumper couple "fighting" over their whumpee, both of them wanting to torment them in their own ways (one can be a brute force trauma type whumper and the other can be a more creepy mind games whumper, i like that pairing) and Whumpee cant figure out if they're glad that they're being "saved" from the other or if they're more terrified that they're being fought over since the whumpers are getting increasingly violent and theyre afraid one might kill the other to keep them forever, and if that happens than it'll be a nightmare either way cause both whumpers are awful

(Thanks for the request!

TWs for cursing, fade to black beating/torture, mentioned drugging, creepy whumper (sfw))

“You’re putting too much thought into it. Just beat them,” Whumper 1 complained in an annoyed tone.

Whumper 2 circled Whumpee’s unconscious form like they were prey, thinking of all the ways they could make their life miserable. Many of the ways didn’t even involve touching Whumpee at all.

“You’re never any fun,” Whumper 2 chided. “You’re not considering how satisfying it is to play into fear,” they said cooly.

“We’re not here to play,” Whumper 1 said gruffly. “We’re here to retrieve information.” They pushed past Whumper 2 and kicked Whumpee in the chest, rudely waking them up. Whumpee coughed and groaned at the force of the kick. They were still a bit weak from what they’d been drugged with.

Whumper 1 stepped forward again to continue the assault, but Whumper 2 stopped them. “No no—let them wake up all the way. We want them to experience all of this.”

Whumper 1 rolled their eyes in frustration and turned around to look for something to hit Whumpee with in the meantime. While they were gone to the other side of the room, Whumper 2 smirked and knelt down next to Whumpee.

“We can make this so bad for you,” they whispered, taking a fistful of Whumpee’s hair and pulling. “You’ll be telling us what we need to know very soon. And after that, you’ll be begging us for death.” Whumper 2 leaned in closer so that their lips brushed Whumpee’s ear. “And we won’t give it to you.”

Suddenly, Whumper 2 was pulled away by the collar of their shirt and up to face Whumper 1, who glared at them dangerously. “That’s enough. You’re wasting time. Use your fists, not your head.”

Whumper 2 looked back at Whumper 1 smugly with no fear. “You don’t want to get in my way, friend.” They pulled a small pocket knife just barely out of their pocket, flashing it. “I can dish it out just as well as you can. I just prefer not to.”

“Is that a threat?” Whumper 1 growled, pulling Whumper 2 closer. The two were in a standoff.

Whumpee, who was just waking up still, managed to push themselves away a little bit. They were honestly relieved that the two were fighting—it took the attention off of them. Meanwhile, they couldn’t imagine being left alone with one of them. They balanced each other out. Whumper 1 could kill them just with their fists if they were alone with them too long, and Whumper 2 would make them wish they were dead with the psychological torment. They didn’t know which they hated most.

Slowly, they scooted themself to the corner to get away from the two as silently as possible. Upon doing this, Whumper 1 turned their head and dropped Whumper 2. “The fuck you think you’re doing?”

Whumpee whimpered and pressed themselves against the wall. They should’ve just stayed where they were.

“Listen…I think we should compromise here,” Whumper 2 said with a grin. “You do what you’re good at, and I’ll do what I’m good at. It’ll be so much for the poor thing. They’ll have to confess what we need eventually.”

Whumper 1 crossed their arms, thinking on it for a moment. “…Fine. But you don’t get to touch them. I want all their bruises to be mine.”

Whumpee shrunk in terror as both tormentors approached them.

#whump #whump blog #whump community #whump writing #whump scenario #creepy whumper #tw torture #tw beating #tw drugging #tw cursing

[wrestlingindirtpitsdemo]

dean definitely kept sam’s baby teeth.

he probably pulled some out himself. laid one hand on the side of sam’s neck, his thumb pushed up under his jaw to keep him steady but also as a sign of reassurance.

he’d dig his fingers in but hold himself back from moving the pad of his thumb along his brother’s tongue and lips.

“good boy sammy” when he managed to pull the stubborn bastard out. he’d make sure sam put it under his pillow and that the tooth fairy rewarded him heavily for it.

he’d put the teeth in a little plastic bag and carry them around for years. neither john or sam any wiser about it.

#he’s not beating the creepy!dean allegations #samdean #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam and dean #weecest #weirdest #wincest #boy king #child of cain #atlas speaks

[dootznbootz]

Y'all know I adore Epic: the Musical. But I DO worry about Calypso's arc.

I know Jay is making everyone "nicer" but I do kind of worry about it.I don't mind Calypso being "nicer"...But I REALLY hope he makes sure a song slams home on how BADLY he doesn't want to be there.

I kind of worry about "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" with the "I love you...Just not in the way you want me to" which...no thank.

Not only does that feel WRONG, I just KNOW people will use it as a "SEE?! HE WAS HAPPY THERE!" when no. Just NO. I mean Circe's song is very clearly Coercion/blackmail if you have ears and can think. as that's what happens in the book.

I don't blame Jay for not wanting what ACTUALLY happened in the book to happen in the musical (as it's DARK af) but I just really hope he talks about how BADLY Odysseus doesn't want to be there.

#I love “Love in Paradise”. It's creepy. makes it Clear Odysseus is upset. and also a fun beat. #I REALLY hope it stays that way throughout the rest of Calypso's arc #epic the musical #Mad rambles #shot by odysseus #calypso #circe

[whumpitisthen]

I don't know if you take a request!

But, can you write about Whumpee with Stockholm Syndrome who went back to Whumper after finally escaped for a month?

I take requests yes but you must know it takes me four years to come up with a single draft for anything so be prepared to wait an indefinite amount of time!! I tried to keep it short and idk if ive succeeded!! Here you go!!

No Longer a Lie

Their goodbye was the same as a soldier’s going off to war. He may never return, and even if he does, he would return a different man. A sombre, yet loving valediction.

Her smile is watery and proud. The kind, thoughtful, caring old lady that found him that day and took him in believes that he is going home today. He had told her his parents have finally arranged everything ready for him to return. He had explained that they didn't expect him to suddenly show up in their life after so many years again, that they lived abroad and needed time to get his papers in order, that they cannot wait to see him again. She believes he is going to heal and find himself, and be safe under the care of his family.

He was lying. He doesn't have a family. He had lied to this sweet, innocent lady so she would not try to stop him from what he is about to do. She thinks she saved him, and that he is going home. To some extent, that is true.

She packed him a backpack full of snacks, spare clothes, even some money. She bought him new clothes to wear. She walked him to the train station, though her rickety hips barely allowed her to stay standing long enough. She watched him get on the train and waved at him all the way up until they could no longer see each other through the window as the platform grew further and further away.

He only cried once he was sure she could not see.

He retraces every step he took a month prior to this day. He minds the gap, turns every corner. He recognises a flower shop in the suburbs. The large, tilted tree in the park. A large graffiti under the cement bridge is his next sign that he is going the right direction.

Soon, the houses become overwhelmingly familiar. A few more blocks, and he will be there. His legs ache, the new, cheap shoes he got from her rub at his heels with every step, bloodying the rough fabric. He could not stop his journey if he wanted. He feels his very heart dragging him along on a leash, back to where he left a month ago, back to where he escaped.

There it is. A secluded house at the edge of town, fenced off with barbed wire and kept in perfect condition. His soles burn, but his pace only quickens. He knows those chain links. He knows those barred windows. He knows that godforsaken garage door. He is home. He made it.

Oh, she would have never let him go if he told her that he considered this prison his home.

Reaching the outer gate, the intimate feeling of fear choking him arises like an old friend. The last time he saw this place from the outside he only got to for a moment in his haste. A glance over his shoulder in the middle of the night, and then he was gone like a ghost. He wonders what all has changed. He doubts anything has.

He hesitates. They will be angry at him, he's sure. So, so angry. He left without warning, without saying anything. To think he thought he could leave without repercussions instead of owning up to his mistake and suffering the consequences. Now, here he is thirty days later, crawling back on trembling legs, in strange clothing and some fat under his skin to beg for forgiveness. He is the most ungrateful, pathetic creature he can imagine. He's sure he will be told as much once the door opens.

He steels himself and presses the bell. It goes off twice in quick succession thanks to his twitchy fingers. He cannot tell if the overwhelming nerves strangling him are of worry or excitement.

He has been away for too long, trying to function in a place he is no longer meant for. He craves this hell like one would their heaven. He knows it's wrong, he knows he could leave right now and go back to the old lady that took care of him like her own son and he could relearn how to be a person and it would all be okay. He rationalises that it's far too late for that.

The ten seconds that pass in silence after the bell chimes are agony spreading over an eternity. His fingers cramp with how fiercely he fists them to his palm. Eventually, however, the entrance opens, and out steps the devil himself.

He stops on the porch, pausing to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him, but he then quickly crosses the distance between the two of them to jerk the gate open and embrace him before his lost darling could even rant off his apology that he has been writing in his head ever since he first took a step outside of this house.

They stand in silence for a long minute.

This moment feels absolutely perfect. Better than he ever expected it to feel; just the most idyllic scene that goes exactly as he had dreamed it would. The hug feels better than he had imagined, so warm and tight and all-encompassing. His red nose finds its way into the crook of the man's neck, nestling in there. He breathes in deep, taking in the smell of comfort, of the wonderfully known and expected; the familiarity.

“I’ve told you so many times. You do not belong out there anymore.”

In reality, what he had experienced with his freedom was not joy, but layers upon layers of anxiety. Everything was new, everything was unusual, everything was terrifying. What he had grown so used to during his years in this house he threw away in blind greed, wanting more from life than the perfect world his owner had made for him.

At first the freedom was elating. Long forgotten concepts like privacy and control had returned and excited him. But then his new circumstances became tiring. One or two core differences became dozens of alien rules he had to rememorise. Then came shame at experiencing such trouble with something that is meant to be no issue at all for anyone; anyone but him. Normal people don't expect perfect obedience in return for tolerance. Normal people don't have to ask for permission to eat when a plate is put in front of them. Normal people don't have to keep their owners content. Normal people aren't scared of their owners. Normal people don't have owners. These are all things he had to get used to, among the sea of other more obscure examples.

The final straw was his curse of worthlessness. He felt he did not deserve any of this. He ran away. He broke so many rules. He was having awful trouble with his new rules. He was ungrateful. And yet, the old lady only showed kindness and care. No punishments, no threats, not even any mocking or insults. Just relentless, angelic forgiveness. She would not hurt him even when he offered, even when he had asked. He could not handle this; he felt like he was going to go insane with guilt.

His owner had told him this countless times, but only now does he truly understand what he had meant, — the complicated, scary life of a free person just isn't suited for him. Not anymore. He is different. He cannot be left alone for long. He cannot function without clear cut rules, routine or punishments. He doesn't think like everyone else. Above everything, what was killing him every day the most was yearning for his owner. He needs his owner. He cannot be away from him, he depends on him too much. He missed him every day, feeling dumber and dumber each day for being so cowardly.

But now, now he is here again, in his owner's capable hands. Everything will make sense again, all his mistakes will be fixed and he can spend the rest of his life atoning for his naïve stupidity. He will take being locked up in this birdcage for the rest of his life. He will take the sharp, unending burn of punishments each time he slips up. He will take it all without a word if that's what his owner wants. He missed him more than should be possible. He cries. He is so happy.

His relief is crushed as soon as the door locks behind him, and he is once again all alone with the man. His freshly washed hair is grabbed and he is dragged all the way down to the source of all of his nightmares, sent to the floor viciously. His crying turns desperate. He is barely left time to gasp out a plea before he is grabbed again and tied up much too tightly, rope burning over old, thick scarring along his wrists. His cries are muffled with a gag, and his tears are soaked up with a blindfold.

He becomes inconsolable then. He knew this would happen, he knew he would be punished, he knows he deserves it — but this is all too sudden, juxtaposed horribly by the tenderness of that hug that he waited a month for and needed more than he ever realised. Now it's like his owner is a different man, mercilessly restraining him and not saying a word, just like when he is truly furious. He didn't seem angry at all before. His owner seemed as relieved as he did.

He can tell he is dropped off in the middle of the basement by how cold it is and how his skin catches on the drain under him. He is pulled to kneel, and while he tries his best to obey every wordless order, his limbs have become useless jelly, flowing in all the wrong directions.

The punishment is severe. So severe that he is certain he won't survive it. The first to break are his legs. He might not ever be able to walk again, much less run away from consequences. His arms are wrenched behind and up until his shoulders pop, rendering all his limbs useless. They are left there like that, hanging off him like parasites that feed on his agony. He is beaten with something heavy, made of iron. That breaks several more bones, his ribs mostly. His screams start dying down then, not for a lack of trying. The gag muffles every apology he sobs into it, ensuring he will only be able to say sorry once his owner has decided he is truly sorry.

He is reduced to a bag of flesh to be abused. He cannot fight any of it, he cannot see any of it and he cannot stop any of it. He has never felt so much like an object before in his life, not with the old lady, not prior escaping, not prior to being caught. Still, he never even thinks about regretting coming back. He never holds anything against his master, he never holds a grudge or resentment. He deserves this for disobeying him, and his owner deserves his pain as compensation. He deserves this, he deserves this, please, please let him say he deserves all of it and see how he regrets running. He needs to say it, he needs this to end, he wants nothing more than to grovel at the man's feet and sob over and over how worthless he is and how he will never ever try anything like this again.

The only way this can end is if he is forgiven, but he cannot be forgiven until he has apologised.

The blindfold is never removed, not like his bindings and the gag. This distresses him greatly even as he is cuddled in his owner's arms once again, exhausted. The blindfold only ever comes out for the worst of his mistakes. When his master is angry with him. When a simple slap or two or a couple days without food isn't enough. The fact that it is still on even hours after he was finally allowed to beg for forgiveness — he just cannot relax. He supposes that's probably the reason why it's still on. He can’t just forget about what he did so easily with one round of torment. He hopes it will be taken off soon, but at the same time, he has no hope for it coming off in the coming days.

He doesn't even know if he has suffered enough yet. This small thing could very well signal that he will be atoning for this transgression for up to another month; just as long as he had spent away from here. The thought terrifies him enough to sob brokenly into his owner's chest, huddled up against him as he is. He’s rewarded with a light pet. He whispers a thank you.

The man pauses at that, causing his body to tense in preparation of more pain. Wonderfully, however, all that comes is more gentleness, a hand that has hurt him so many times now digging down to the roots of his hair and scratching in a pleasant rhythm. He has never been more thankful. The smallest of kindnesses from his owner are enough for him to forget all about the month of constant mercy from the old lady that took care of him unconditionally. Something must be wrong with him. He doesn't think about that for too long.

“I am so glad you came back,” — his master murmurs.

No one loves him like his master loves him. The old lady… was stupid. She was an idiot. Who would take in a stranger off the street, half-dead, and spoil him like she did? That's moronic. Her kindness — it doesn't matter. Any grain of sweetness from this man means more than a whole year of hers. He loves him. She was just a dumb old lady.

He feels awful for thinking this. His brain is at battle with his heart, trying to convince himself that this is what he is meant to be, that this is right, while feeling a dark emptiness building in his lungs.

Later, once his body is no longer useless and he can do as he is told, he does so. When he is told to clean, he cleans. When he is told to stay still, he stays still. When he is told to hold his breath, he holds his breath. Neither of them mention it. His owner doesn't tease him for falling back into old habits so soon. He doesn't even think to resist or think for himself. This is their norm. Nothing out of the ordinary. How it is supposed to be. Every night, he tells himself he is happy and loved. He feels his owner's arms around him, holding him close, pushing on his dark, painful bruises and he thanks him for allowing him to stay. His master tells him he loves him, and he smiles, saying the same thing.

And he means it.

~

Masterlist | Ko-fi

Taglist: @morning-star-whump @whumprince

#whump #my writing #asks #anon #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #whump writing #sadistic whumper #fear #stockholm syndrome #failed escape #broken bones #begging #blindfolded #restrained #beating #recapture #captivity whump

[screamn-robo-drawin]

Made a new charr Hex Egd Elord, mesmer. Hes got a thing for sending hatemail to his enemies and looking fierce.

(I've mained necro so far, so learnin mesmer its gonna be a trip)

#my arts #gw2 #gw2 original character #guild wars 2 #charr #gw2 charr #gw2 oc #oc hex #furry #charr fanart #hes actualy based off my transformers oc Hekaton aka hex #mesmer looks exciting to play with all the clones #eeee i get so excited when theres suddenly two of him!! beating up others #he has so much hehehe creepy oops now hes everywhere vibes

[sealrock]

the major arcana, shuffled: 5/??

THE TOWER; ⤉ disaster, destruction, upheaval, trauma ⤈ resisting change, avoiding tragedy, delaying the inevitable, avoiding loss

#mypost. #ffxiv gpose #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv oc #🏵️ #ffxiv:tma #back at it again with the cursed family paintings!! #i was stumped on how to make this look like a tower ngl. i think i did good but i feel like these needed more post-process editing. w/e #if you see clipping no you don't ssshhhhhh- #yea i know cassie's husband isn't here but this isn't about him. this is about the tatlonghari's collective family trauma!!! #only ones missing are paris and andi. paris doesn't consider themselves fully apart of the family and andi missed a lot of the upheaval #wanted to showcase the entirety of the family and how priam has been the direct cause of all their problems #the symbolism here is that the left showcases the ones who are alive. the right are those who were killed by priam #notice how on the left they're not touching each other despite being so close to one another #they're not smiling either. they're extremely distant even within close proximity #whereas the right they're holding onto each other and smiling (rather creepily but you know) #i made a corrupted version but i think it's important to see their happy faces more clearly. notice how they kinda look demonic #and yea priam's face is scribbled out but you can see that his face was beat in #and pammon (priam's twin) and andromache (who priam thought was dead for years) are choking him #the reverse got flipped wrong when you look at it rightside up but it adds to the creepiness i think #body horror cw #gore cw #<- just in case

[ratking-roleplays]

"-m sorry." Whumpee slurs, leaning their head against the wall. They're on the edge of consciousness, eyes fluttering, head spinning. They let out a whimper as a hand cups their face, tilting it towards the light.

"You did perfectly." Whumper smiled, caressing their bloody cheek. "So good for me... once we get past all that fighting, you're just a pretty little canvas, hm? You know this is all you're good for, dear, and I'd be stupid to deny it. Anyone would. You're only useful when you're hurt, dear heart."

Whumpee whimpered, leaning into the touch foolishly. Most of Whumper's words didn't register, but the shame burned like coals in their chest. It would take years for them to understand that they weren't just a punching bag.

#whump prompt #whump drabble #referenced beating #referenced torture #creepy whumper #intimate whumper

[vaggieslefteye]

THEY ARE LITERALLY 5 YEARS OLD LMFAO

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #alastor #hazbin alastor #lucifer #radio demon #dad beat dad #song: hell's greatest dad #my gifs #BLESS this show for fucking SPOILING US with this entire fucking episode holy shit #i wasn't expecting to see fucking scary-creepy-ass elkdude ALASTOR get to be BOTH TERRIFYING #and fucking SILLY all in the same episode. with LUCIFER. who turned out to be #NOT SCARY but in fact the anxious-ridden autistic depressed nerd representation that we desperately needed LMAO

[astrowhump]

Useful

Tw: torture (past and present), conditioning, asphyxiation, whipping, and just a bunch of other good stuff :)

11:00 p.m., master isn’t home yet, then it must be time for bed. Lucas pushes himself up from his knees, still trembling from kneeling on the cold tiles for hours on end, waiting for his owner to show up. He looks down at his kneecaps just to find them tinted red, caused by the pressure from his own weight.

The Canadian winter snow is still pelting, a ghost white blankets everything in sight. He’s lost in the panoramic scene for a moment, in the dagger-like icicles and the pine trees bending under the heavy shimmering carpet that covers their every leaf and the eery silence of stillness. Through the glass door and French windows, he watches as the moon shines on the pavement that’s covered knee-high, and for an instant, he imagines the tingling of the freezing snow on his legs. Before he knows it, his mind’s filled with thoughts of the unthinkable…the impossible.

The first obstacle would be the locked front door, hardly a challenge, he knows where master keeps the spare keys - where he keeps anything for that matter- Lucas has been the one keeping this place spotless after all, for a good chunk of the past four years and seven months and fourteen days.

He’s built up quite a tolerance to cold by now, thanks to master’s ‘seasonal torture techniques’. Apparently, keeping the poor boy out in -10 degrees Celsius temperature and frozen snow in nothing but his boxers until his body starts shaking violently and he bangs his trembling fists to the glass door as he begs to be let in, is just as much an amusement as burning him or drowning him or beating him bloody. Even though he could survive several hours in that weather, he’d most definitely lose all mobility within the first hour. He will need to cover himself up, with some of his owner’s winter clothes perhaps, not that a 6’ man with an athletic build’s clothes would fit perfectly on a 5’ 3” boy with a much smaller body, but anything that keeps him warm will do.

It’s gonna be an exhaustingly long walk before he sets foot outside the property and even then, they’re probably somewhere far into the woods, they couldn’t be more than a day of walking from the city though, master goes to the city quite often for work so it must be a reasonable distance.

The thought of escaping seems more and more like an absurd fantasy as his trail of taboo thoughts continues flowing. It was never gonna be anything more than that anyways. Besides, even if he did make it outside on his own, the owner would definitely find his astray mongrel somewhere along the way and when he does, he will make sure that ungrateful mutt knows the definition of real hell. First and foremost, he will bash in his kneecaps, turn him into the dog he is, just as promised. He’ll have to crawl on all fours for the rest of his pathetic life, And that’s not even all. The mere thought of the length of consequences that await him if he steps out of line makes him freeze in his place.

11:45. Did he just spend that long thinking about escaping? It’s almost funny; after years and years of training, this is where he belongs, this is who he is, he doesn’t have a purpose in life but to obey and please his master.

At last, his legs drag him to the upstairs bedroom where he changes into his sleeping t-shirt. The room is warm and his stomach is full, a fact he will never stop being grateful for. Just as he slides under the covers, the door to the living room is opened forcefully and then slammed shut and heavy shoes stomp downstairs. Lucas sits up in the bed, expecting to greet his exasperated master, but the footsteps never make it upstairs.

Naked feet touch the wooden floor and sneak down the staircase.

“S- sir?” He calls softly.

Light peaks out of the doorway to the study and that’s where his feet take him.

“Welcome home maste-“

An empty whiskey bottle flies towards him the second he steps through the door, but his head instinctively ducks and the glass shatters as it hits the wall to his back.

“Why the fuck is my whiskey bottle empty.” It doesn’t sound like a question but Lucas answers anyway.

“I’m not allowed in the cellar when I’m alone.” His voice is small.

“I’ll fetch you one right away sir, I’m sorry” he quickly adds as he feels the angry gaze bore into his quivering figure. He looks up to the vexed man and finds him fidgeting with his tie in a failed attempt to loosen it.

“Let me.” He carefully steps closer to help his master. He’s stepping on eggshells, every step he takes might be a step too far, but master allows him to get close and slowly hook his fingers around the tie and pull. He loosens the loop enough for the man’s head to easily slip through.

“Did you have a bad day, sir?” He speaks softly, placing the tie on the desk behind him and starts unbuttoning his owner’s white shirt.

Lucas looks up at him when he doesn’t hear an answer. The man’s mind seems to be rushing with irritating thoughts, however, his attention is grabbed as the busy hands on his shirt stop wriggling.

“Very.” He sounds tired. The hands continue undressing his top until his muscular form shows as the shirt is taken away. Big hands wrap around bony wrists.

“Weren’t you supposed to be asleep by now?” The pressure on his wrists increases and the boy’s nervousness along with it. He tries to back off a bit, but his movements are blocked by the desk behind him and master’s vigorous form in front. Helplessly sandwiched in between, he presses the palms of his hands to the tattooed chest holding him captive.

“I- I heard you enter and you seemed pissed. Thought that you uh…you might want to blow off some steam, sir?” His eyes wander off to the floor in shame, he does mean what he said, but he didn’t think it through, he shouldn’t have done anything before he was ordered to and now…now he has fucked up. Although, if he is to be punished, master might appreciate the distraction. His idiocy may prove helpful afterall.

He hears a chuckle, not threatening or derisive, rather…sweet.

The man’s breathing no longer seems ragged by irritation and his heartbeat calms under Lucas’s palms.

“Oh you sweet thing. You came to me willingly, to be used and abused. Such an obedient little puppy!” One of his hands let go of the little one’s wrists to card through his silky brown locks. Lucas moans softly into his touch.

He feels like a proud owner, turning that stray animal into this adorable domestic pet, ready to serve and please, needy for his master’s touch, ready to jump off a cliff without hesitation if master orders him so. He has been trained with such delicacy, his prized possession.

The hands in the pet’s hair firmly grip the roots and they pull and twist until he winces and looks up at him through defeated eyes, only to find a sadistic dark gaze thrown his way, he keeps his hands flat on his chest, there’s not much fight in him. The fingers pull until he feels his scalp tearing from his skull and he cries out. Master smiles at the sounds he makes, like a father watching his child sweetly speak gibberish. Finally, the hand lets go, but Lucas’s eyes stay leveled with his owner’s.

“On your knees.”

He drops to his knees like it’s instinct.

“Heel.” He starts stepping towards an empty wall between the bookshelves. On the wall hang two chained handcuffs, fixated by nails on the green wallpaper, his personal modification to make the study feel more like home to his precious little pet.

Lucas follows behind him with ease, used to the scratching of his knees as he crawls by his master’s feet, the hard wood beneath him gives its place temporarily to the soft wool of the Persian rug as they cross the middle of the room and then the uncomfortable wood again.

He extends his arms so that they can be restrained. An air of superiority lines his owner’s smile and he can’t help but pat the willing puppy on the head.

Once his wrists are firmly secured, the sheer fabric covering his upper body is ripped through. He sits there awkwardly as master pulls the remains aside.

His vision is limited to the wall in front of him now. Footsteps track distant and stop a few feet behind him. He listens intently now, all his senses heightened, they always are in these situations, when his brain knows something bad, something painful, is going to happen and his body is unable to do anything but stay still and notice every sensory trigger possible. Now even his mind won’t do anything but sit still and take it all in, defiance is no longer defined in his dictionary. The sound his hypersensitive ears catch next is that of a belt undone, followed by his next command.

“Stretch your back for me darling”

He does as told, moving his knees and elbows in opposite directions until every inch of his back - littered with wounds and physical implications of mental trauma - is exposed and stretched to full capacity.

“You ready sweetheart?”

Lucas keeps his head down and squeezes his eyes shut as if that makes anything better. He belatedly answers when he realizes he is expected to.

“Y- yes, master.”

The belt cracks in the air before it lands on his back. The leather is thick and heavy, and the pain that spreads through his bones and muscles is sickening.

His sweet voice breaks into a scream, so pleasant that his tormentor stops to appreciate it for a second. Another blow brings another sweet cry out of him. He could do this forever.

“Your body’s such a beautiful canvas, it would be a shame not to cover it with art.”

Lucas doesn’t move his composition an inch, offering his naked back for his owner to take his rage out on. However, he yawps as the belt whips his tender skin, one blow from the right and one from the left rhythmically, and the occasional cracks in the air just to make the already tremoring boy flinch even harder in anticipation of pain.

His tears slide straight onto the parquet and his head falls down between his strained arms, chin touching the chest. Master must see it because the next blow comes down on him harsher and faster than the rest and the edges of the belt cut into his skin.

His head rises, he shrieks and tears stream down his reddened eyes, his perfect posture is disturbed slightly. Such a sight. Though it is fun to break defiant brats, it’s even more enjoyable to crush an obedient mutt.

“M- master- “ he sobs. Several cuts on his back are bleeding now.

“What is it, pet?” He stops and walks closer to the bleeding trembling boy.

Lucas ducks his head back down. He had learned time and time again that asking for it to stop only brings him punishment. That word was involuntary, he regrets saying anything at all, even more so when his head is yanked backward by his brown curls drawing a wince out of him. Master’s dark eyes drill a hole into his blushing cheeks.

“Don’t be shy now boy. Beg me to stop. Cry for my mercy. All your wishes just might eventually come true.”

He smiles. It’s frightening and hits the naked boy’s body like a winter blizzard, sending visible shivers down his spine.

His head is let go just to fall limply between his arms again and he can hear footsteps retracting through loud sobs.

Suddenly, something soft grips his neck, silky…the tie. The loop he helped loosen earlier, tightens around his neck more than it should and it’s pulled up until he chokes out. Master looks at him with pity eyes as he loses composure and chokes himself even harder. He claws at the floor with his feet to keep his head up but the noose moves higher and higher, blocking all oxygen from ever touching his windpipe.

“If you want to breathe, ask nicely.”

His eyes turn in their place to stare innocently into those of his master. There’s not much air left in him to form coherent words.

“S- sir…p- nghh; please…Ah” only whispers leave his mouth. He gasps for air with his mouth open and a stream of tears down his messed-up face.

“-ease p-..mas- Ha- hngha.. mast- “ his face turns a dark shade of purple, matching the violet tie around his throat.

His owner only lets go of his lead a moment before he loses consciousness, or maybe one after. Either way the boy’s head falls to his chest, his weak naked body spattered across the room, only hanging up by tied-up wrists. The gradually fastening rise and fall of his chest is all the movement he makes. He mercifully undoes his restraints so the boy can catch his breath

Master pulls a chair to sit beside his panting mess of a pet on the ground and lights his cigarette calmly. Lucas slowly regains consciousness and pulls himself to sit on his knees, the tie still wrapped around his slender neck and vision still disoriented, back still hurting and bleeding, the exhaustion overtakes the pain by the slightest.

A snap of fingers. That means there’s an order to follow. His eyes look for the source of the sound. Master gestures for him to come closer.

His numb limbs are having a hard time trying to follow his brain’s orders but eventually, he pulls himself to all fours and crawls to the bigger man in the chair. The tie dangles around his neck like a runaway dog’s leash; except he could never run away, he has an extremely thoughtful owner, always alert and cautious, even after…four years and seven months and fourteen days - well fifteen now.

His sweaty palms make sticky sounds against the floor until he’s at his sir’s feet. He fits his body between his legs and rests his dizzy head on the lap of the other.

He knows this ritual by heart, after every single play or training or punishment or ‘let me take everything out on you because I can’ session, master smokes his cigarette as he winds down and then…zzzz…signs his brutalized body with the hot end of the cigarette. He hardly even flinches at the burning pain anymore, he’s way too beaten and it’s way too familiar. It almost feels reassuring even, a sign that agony is over for the time being. He’s relieved.

His body is carpeted in these marks, he couldn’t count them even if he wanted to. Most of them overlap, but master has his favorite spots, his neck and shoulders for example.

A loving hand sorts out his tangled locks and he dozes off to the touch, right there on master’s thigh. His eyes open sluggishly and look up for another order, or permission to pass out.

“Ah. Thank you pet, I feel much better now. Bring me that whiskey after you’re done cleaning yourself up, would you?”

“Mmhm…yes, sir”

He gently brushes off the stray strands of hair sticking to his sweaty face and bends his neck to press a gentle kiss to the boy’s temple.

“Up now. You’ve been such a good boy for me tonight. You can go to bed when you’ve done as I said. It’s way past your bedtime.” He whispers into his ears with a deep calm voice.

“Mmm..” Lucas nods and gets up on his feet lazily. He tries his best not to stumble over his own feet as he makes his way to the cellar.

Lucas is glad he proved himself useful for his master tonight.

Inspired by one of @whumpitisthen’s dialouge prompts.

#i need to stop writing broken whumpees but idk they’re so fun to write #whump #pet whump #sir/master #creepy whumper #choked #conditioned whumpee #sadistic whumper #torture #references to past torture #my writing #captivity whump #beating #broken bones #stockholm syndrome #mental whump #physical whump #manipulation #whump community #whumblr

[felidacy]

Rambles and small ideas for a Batfamily Bloodborne AU

(It is not that cohesive I am sorry and I was forced to make some lore changes. Especially with how it begins. Don't beat me up about it.)

Gotham gets enveloped by a dark shroud that covers the whole city and makes it near imperishable, let alone letting people pass through. The city is forever shrouded in a dark loom with merely a everlasting full moon shining upon them. With no sun and the isolation, it soon takes a tool on the people. They grow sickly and depressed, if not that they become near deranged and highly irritable. Crime rates in the already vicious city steadily increase.

There is a sudden shift then - for the worse. A blood moon occurs and people begin to change. Their bodies twist, grow and even rot away. Meanwhile their humanity seems to decrease. A few attempt to research the phenomenon and hold them captive in facilities like Arkham Asylum or Blackgate Prison, however those are halted when the victims fully cease being humans and transform into eldritch monsters that lash out when the old blood gets overused by the Healing Church. A mass outbreak occurs and the monsters roam the city from then on.

Tim Drake is still in the position of the CEO Wayne Enterprise after the mysterious disappearance of the Gotham Prince (Bruce Wayne) and openly funding doctors and scholars in his tower to research their Gotham phenomenon and the monsters. He takes over the Role of Provost Willem and does not shy away from finding out the truth by any means necessary. He isolates himself because of his hunger for knowledge and shuts people out.

Researchers of his discover the tombs/Labyrinth and the usage of the old blood when coming across Ebrietas, some desperately trying to change his opinion and use blood healing to attain a new beginning. Tim is forced into a position where he needs to give up on his constant desire of evolution and progress, which goes against his nature, for the sake of the people and instead how far he can go sacrificing himself in order to attain knowledge that makes him look beyond the "now". His good-hearted start for the peace of humans turns into a obsession to achieve something which is beyond the capability of a mere human.

Damian has been put in a dire position, a child that hears and dreams of the voices of those beyond that nobody else can comprehend. With his artistic skills he puts down the words after transcribing them, he holds the Role of Runesmith Caryll. He desperately attempts to hold on to sanity as he hides himself away from all prying eyes despite the praise of those around him. He only ever hears the words of the Great Ones now.

Two people Tim trusted most "betrayed" him, Tam and Cass that take on the Role of Laurence as his trusted students that end up leaving him. Cass knew that Stephanie must secretly be alive and after having grown immensely close to her not-sister-not-lover, she could not live with herself if she didn't rescue one she loved. She had lost too many already and followed Tam, along with others. Tam had noble intentions much like Cass, although Tam held more resentment for Tim. Her father was affected by a terrible illness that was since then called the Ashen Blood and even after dozens of years where he was loyal to the Wayne family he did not wish to use the old blood to heal him. He actively even discouraged her. Tam gave her goodbyes one day to never see Tim again and began the Healing Church. To her disappointment Dr. Leslie Thompkins was not one of those that followed after them and when the blood failed to heal her father, instead actively killing him, it were Tim and Leslie that got blamed. Since then Tam began desiring evolving into something greater through the use of the blood in order to bring him back. While Cass worked as a blood minister (later on white Church hunter), Tam focused later on at the work of seeking contact with the Great Ones and became the leading figure of the Choir.

Leslie Thompkins suffers a cruel fate. Her loyalty to save the people and towards Tim cost her greatly and when Tim gets the epiphany that more eyes are needed to understand the Great Ones and evolve, she is one of those that get affected and turn into one of the many hundred eyed monsters roaming the tower and trapping Tim there.

The Healing Church grows in power as their influence in Gotham rises because of their special infected blood that heals those in dire need should they come to them. Gotham citizen began to practically worship the Healing Church when gods they previously believed them did not act and show mercy, others turned away out of fear and that soon enough began to rule the city. The Healing Church becomes a belief, a bloody beacon of hope in their endless night...a cult.

When the sickness of the Ashen Blood spreads the people falsely believe in The Healing Church and that they will save them. Instead the bridges connecting the lands to each other get torn down when they least expect it and watch on as the other half gets overrun by beasts and the ravaging sickness alike. To make sure nobody ever passes through the remains get bordered up. Tim remains on the other half in his Tower overlooking the raging City with a faraway gaze.

They mainly reside in the abandoned underground of Gotham and at the edge of the Bowery, planted right at the opposite site of the Wayne Tower, and gets called the Labyrinth as the layout changed under the influence of the shroud. In time the Healing Church began to change and it split into various branches, the Choir, the school of Mensis and the Hunters of the Workshop that evolve into the Church Hunters.

Jason and Dick had been getting Damian out of old Gotham when the great fire happened and they were unable to return to their left behind sibling. They desired to hid Damian from the Healing Church because of his connection to the Great Ones and there was no better hiding spot than directly under their nose. As such they've become hunters for the Church.

One faithful day Barbara after a long search discovers Damian when he is having one of his seizures, when he dreams of the Great Ones, and she desires to help him. She has been kept in the dark as she had been stuck in the Clocktower until the Healing Church came to free her, which causes her to make unwise decisions by mistakingly trusting Tam and Cass. Unknowing of what occurred with the lack of still functioning technology she was part of the School of Mensis. However upon touching the Great Ones overwhelm her mind and her sanity crumbles. Barbara holds the Role of Micolash. After she becomes aware of herself again she causes the School of Mensis to break away from the Church and just like Tim to find and use an unbiblical cord of the Great Ones.

Stephanie was one of the few that broke through the shroud even when nobody knows why she was permitted through. Trusting her idol and not-lover her ignorance of the state of matter makes her join Barbara. The use of the Cord brings blocked memories back to Stephanie as she recalls that she faked her death because of her pregnancy, just shortly before the shroud fell over Gotham. In fact she does not recall what she had done those months outside of Gotham, neither were the supposed baby was. That is when the Great Ones enlighten her when she connects to Mergo. That child was never born as she went through horrible complications early on and lost it, although there was no body. The child was not of human descent, but of a Great One. Broken apart by this knowledge the Cord pulls Stephanie, Barbara and others of the School into a nightmare state where they remain forever trapped while their physical bodies die. She is the Queen of Yharnam.

Alfred was thought to have died that night when the Great fire happened as he had been away from the Wayne Tower, yet neither with Damian in the Manor. However, as it turns out Alfred had gone to seek out Tam and Cass in hopes to change their minds. When he thought all his wards dead when the land was burning there was no other way than to stay with his last remaining: Cass. And as someone who only ever knew how to work through grief by helping others, he had become the leader of the old Hunters Workshop. He was Gehrmann. Still caught in his own grief the purpose was ripped from him again and he was left alone, a mistake. Like many he called upon the Great Ones and as such started the dream, the start of it all with a promise that needed to be fulfilled.

#batfamily #bloodborne au #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #barbara gordon #tam fox #stephanie brown #bruce wayne is trapped in the timestream #he could be the final boss in the moon because he too got affected by the great ones #i am not that familiar with bloodborne lore but damn it this idea took hold of me and made me watch a video about it #please dont beat me up bloodborne fans #this is just pure horror and angst #eldritch horror implied #stephs baby but make it creepy in a way different way than in canon #I ran with that awful comic storyline and made it tragic #how could Jason and Dick not be hunters beating up monsters tbh #and I am sorry Damian but someone needed to suffer some madness and be forced to live