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plumassieres · 3 months

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location: stage of the local theatre content warnings: death, graphic imagery of violence and well, essentially, murder, implied depression and related triggering content.

February.

The month he lost his first tooth and almost swallowed it. The milk tooth, as they used to call it, had barely wobbled at first until it finally gave into the pressure of his prodding curiosity. He was like that, to poke and jab until it bruised, but the damage was already done, all the King’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again. The month he found salvation at the dinner table, but there was no God, unless God was a home, his siblings’ laughter. The month that was forgotten, but still rooted within like sprouts of memories awaiting the rain. Mundane things, like eating arroz con leche on a Monday morning, buying Mickey Mouse band-aids for his scraped knees; painful things that were covered with a cadaver pouch of grief. The month his mother died.

Stuart’s life was an ode to those who stayed and didn’t. And he’d stayed, by some miracle, so the biggest piece was dedicated to himself. His mother was kind, but the world wasn’t kind to her; but it was the world in which Stuart did not exist, the upside down in her ailed mind. He would tell her tales of a kingdom come, about princesses carried into the light—come out, come out, mama, I can feel you, but I want to see you. Then come out she did and the world was right again, mother and son aligned on the same axis. Until an earthquake shook the Earth, a tsunami towered over to wash her away.

Stories woven with threads of life. His last one unraveled by death.

The ladder swayed with the tremble of his startled hands, then grew steady to the beat of his heart; the dim glow of the stage highlighted the enigmatic shadow backstage to shape a silhouette of familiarity. He climbed down the ladder and they talked. They laughed. Embraced. A temporary distraction defused his bomb of frustration.

Pause. Rewind. Frame by frame.

He climbed down the ladder, then felt a crushing weight pinning him against the hard metal. An electrical jolt coursed through him, but it dulled the ache of the stab in his chest cavity; in his imagination, his lung hissed like a deflating balloon, and with each breath, he felt like his head was being pushed underwater, minutes ticking by like hours. Betrayal surfaced in his eyes and he was nine years old all over again, the attic window was ajar and the February wind stung his cheeks like a bullet ant burrowed into the skin.

“Mother—” Stuart gasped out in a plea, but then it wasn’t “—fucker.”

The film reel was cut and dry, but he was the tortoise and reality was the hare. There was no moral of this story and the tortoise did not win. But the tortoise did try, relying on the pressure of Stuart’s hand around the person’s—hare’s—throat. Pump. That was the adrenaline. Squeeze. That was the hand. Pump. Squeeze. Pump. Squeeze. Pump. Pump. The more he prodded, the harder it was to breathe like they were mirror reflections of each other; bruise, bruise, bruise, chanting in his head. His siblings’ laughter echoed distantly in his mind’s hallway, growing louder with each step. Don’t come, you shouldn’t see this. His own voice was alien yet familiar, his mother’s lullaby. He’d said something, he was sure of it, but his words bubbled like a witch’s potion in his throat, choking on the metallic tinge of his blood that poured, poured, poured until it filled up the frame. Why? was his silent scream.

He closed his eyes and hoped that when he opened them again, there would be no slit in his throat, no puncture in his chest. Maybe he would be a nobleman or a thief, a cowboy or a priest, a dog or a father. A better son and a better friend. A friend turned lover.

It had meant to be his show, but someone else had told the story for him, using his lifeless force as a ventriloquist dummy. His wrists, tied up against the beams of the makeshift balcony, made a biblical icon out of him that rained all over the stage. No! This performance was going south, he had to put a stop to it. But he could take a break, they could laugh and talk, and embrace again. A temporary distraction to defuse his bomb of frustration. Sleep.

A story he wanted to tell.

There was a bed in the middle of the tortoise’s path. He’d traveled such a long way, he wanted to rest. His family and friends gathered around his bed, they wiped his wrists and neck clean and tucked him in.

“Sweet dreams, little tortoise,” they all said and, one by one, they kissed him on the head.

And so the little tortoise slept.

#ARCHIVE: QUINN STUART FRANCISCO.#death tw #graphic violence tw #implied depression tw #sexy person dying tw #im shaking

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knifefightscene · 2 years

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I don’t think people actually believe Johnny Depp is innocent. I think they know he abused her, they just also think that she deserves it. I say this as recently the news of a husband chopping his wife’s hands off just went viral on facebook and people were defending the husband. Even saying he should have killed her. Their reasoning for this is because she cheated and she’s “a bitch”.

#violence tw #graphic violence tw

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bigg-city-riders-au · 29 days

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Fatal Encounter

This is a crossover fic between my curse!au for tugs and the district!AU for Starlight Express. The reader can be bonded to any tug, or just a generic tug in general. You can find content on ny blog: @welcome-to-the-districts . Major TW for graphic violence, and death. This particular one shot is not for the faint of heart, as it is labelled mature for a reason. One-shot under the cut.

Summary: You have been sent out by Dusk to investigate the recent attacks on a ship, but something just isn’t adding up. Will you and the tug your bonded be able to figure it out?

You, a Rider, have been sent out by none other than Dusk herself to scope out the area a good ways away from the port under the cover of darkness. Apparently, something has been attacking the ships. Dusk didn’t seem to concerned. However, the tug you are bonded to, who has insisted on being with you, wasn’t exactly sure about Dusk’s intentions. You have been trying to learn more about Dusk in general. So far, it isn’t exactly the best. She did the cast the curse and is responsible for so many deaths, yet she formed the Riders in an attempt to keep the curse in check. You’re not sure if she’s actually trying to make up for her mistake, or if she’s planning to use the Riders for her own ill will. It’s odd how she specifically chose you out of the other and more experienced Riders the moment the problem arose. However, oddly enough, the only attacks on the ships have been from the tugs themselves. Perhaps there’s a rogue tug on the lose? Regardless, you have to follow orders from the leader of the Riders.

The tug you are bonded to looks around and sniffs the air. They reach out to you through the bond. Their presence feeling like a warm comforting blanket around your mind.

I smell, see, nor feel nothing. Something isn’t right. I told you not to dig too deep. She’s not one to be trifled with and you know that. She’s dangerous and she knows it. She knows the power she holds and wields it like a weapon. Her name carries weight. One snap of her fingers and she could have Titan incinerate anyone within a split second if she wanted to. We have to be alert.. I have a bad feeling about this. They look down at you, baring a concerned expression on their face. You nod and make sure you check behind you and the tug you’re bonded to. Nothing.

You’re right. There have been no known reports yet.. unless, they went straight to Dusk instead of the media. Which wouldn’t surprise me. If a rogue tug is out and about then the Navy would have to go to the Riders. They know their weapons are pointless. Well, most of them. Missiles do damage.. but that’s besides the point. Yes, I might have dug a little too deep, but why would Dusk stab one of the Riders in the back? It’s her job to lead, to guide. I mean, sure, she’s done a lot of bad stuff, but she’s done a lot of good stuff too. If it weren’t for the curse being cast, you and I wouldn’t have been bonded. You look back at your tug. There’s a moment of silence, yet you can feel the tug’s unease.

That may be true, but she should’ve chosen someone more experienced than you and I to go out and do this. You barely even begun your training. She wouldn’t send you out here to investigate unless something is up. Something is wrong and I just know it. The tug replies. The tug goes silent as they look around. You sense an overwhelming wave of fear through the bond and you look out into the open ocean. The ocean is mostly still and quiet. The moonlight reflecting off it like a massive moving mirror.

What is it? What do you sense? You ask as you draw your blade from it’s scabbard. The metal sparkles in the moonlight.

There’s something beneath us. I felt a disturbance in the water. We are not alone. Be ready. The tug glances towards you as they pinpoint the general direction of where they last sensed it. There’s a few long agonizing minutes of silence and the tug you’re bonded to slowly relaxes.

False alarm. Must’ve been a large fish. The tug sighs in relief. It all happens. The coils of a gargantuan serpentine creature wraps around the tug and squeezes tightly. The coils are easily thicker than a redwood tree. There are purple stripes similar in appearance to lightning bolts running along the creatures spine, leading up to spined fins that are an absolutely stunning mix of blue, purple and black. Each fin has a series of white specks, as if they were stars in a stunning and colorful night sky. They glowed softly in the darkness. On the beast’s sides are large white glowing spots that run along it’s body. The purple underbelly of the beast seems to illuminate with a crackle of electricity. Electricity visible coursing up and down the beast’s long winding, and powerful body. You cannot see the head of the beast, giving you the horrifying realization that you’re only seeing a very small portion of the monster. Whatever this is massive. You and your tug don’t stand chance.

The tug you’re bonded to screeches in pain as the coils squeeze around them tightly. You had the right mind to wear rubber boots, or you would’ve been electrocuted as well, but that doesn’t spare you from the pain felt from the bond. You cry out as you feel the searing pain rip through your body as you shake uncontrollably. You feel as if your heart is about to burst from your chest from beating so rapidly and irregularly. You feel as if you can’t move, paralyzed by the feeling of the sheer agony your tug is feeling.

You feel the tug desperately reaching out to you. The coils become tighter and it’s almost impossible for the tug to breathe. You feel the burning sensation in your lungs, desperate for air, yet the immense pressure from the creature’s powerful coils are far too much for your tug to handle.

Run! Run! Go get help! Find a ship and get to safety. Demder Rocks are not too far away. Go find Lillie, anyone to help you! The tug cries out before they finally withdraw from the bond, freeing you from the immense pain you have been feeling for what felt like an eternity. You gasp for air and nearly collapse, reminding yourself you’d be electrocuted if you so as much as even let another part of your body touch the tug you’re bonded to. You look towards the water and a sinking realization hits you. The moment you hit the water, you will be electrocuted as well. You are trapped with this beast.

You reach out to your tug, but just before you could make contact, you felt a sharp pain in your head and you’re forced back into your mind as the mental barriers are raised once more. Your gaze shifts to the coils as you holds your head. The crackling of electricity has stopped and the coils loosen slightly. You try to reach out again, only to be remain trapped within the confines of your mind. The bond has been broken. Realization turns to sorrow and rage as you realize what had just happened. Your tug was no match for the beast. Your tug was dead. You let out a scream of rage as the coils disappear beneath the surface. In a blind fit of rage you clench your blade in your fist, cast a spell that would create a bubble of air around your head and dive headfirst into the dark cold waters of the ocean. The spell allowed you to look around under the water. Your surroundings are pitch black.

You see a bright light ahead of you and you have to shield your eyes to keep yourself from being blinded by the light. Your eyes grow wide with fear as you finally see the face of the monster. It’s head is similar to that of a great and wily serpent. It’s jaws agape, showing off rows of sharp teeth similar to that of an angler fish. The light you’re seeing is coming from a bulb attached the beast’s head. It’s deep blue eyes glow softly in the dark water as it examines you. It has six limbs in total and is a beast of gargantuan proportions. It easily dwarfs Hercules and Titan combined, far larger than any other sea serpent you’ve seen. It’s claws are a sapphire blue and the webbing between each finger is the same colors as the spined fins along it’s spine. It’s tail ends with numerous spines, no doubt a deadly weapon. It’s purple draconian ears pin back slightly at the sight of you before it almost smiles at you, clearly amused by your bravery.

You realize your mistake far too late as the beast charges. It all happens so fast. A flash of sharp teeth and then darkness.

…

Dusk watches from Demder Rocks as she smirks. She knew Abyss would pull through. Sending the one Rider and tug who were a little too close to finding out just who she was to investigate a reported series of attacks when there was never truly public reports made. She didn’t expect it to work, but at least she has rid the Riders and tugs alike of a would be traitor. She already knows what story she would tell them. Most likely strayed too far, as she knew they were both in experienced. She watches as Abyss’ massive coils wrap around his kill before dragging it deep beneath the waves where he can feed in peace.

She shakes her head and looks off towards the distance, towards Sodor. The magic buffers are a gateway, allowing anyone from any dimension to enter. In this case, the universe where giant humanoid machines born with a taste for blood and far more animalistic urges than the tugs have been mingling here and it didn't take her long to figure out they could shapeshift into monstrous beasts. Abyss, was an electric engine, a prototype. She recalled meeting him and decided to strike up an alliance. He notifies her when he’s around and she will send out anyone that may be getting too close to finding out who she is and what she’s capable of out in the open ocean so he may be able to feast at his leisure. She’s merely holding up part of the deal, now it’s Abyss’ turn to hold up his, to get rid of the evidence, to feed. With that, she calls for Titan through the bond. She needs to get back to the headquarters before she’s missed. She can’t let anyone get wind of just how she truly is. At least.. not yet.

#my writing #this is tugs #tugs au #curse!au #not tagging it as the choo choo musical as it's mainly tugs #graphic violence tw #death tw

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heirbane · 5 months

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I have it hidden deep within a longer hc post somewhere, but the fall of Agrius in Mor Dhona was what truly caused Gaius to begin living in his legatus armor, so to speak.

Prior to the push into Mor Dhona, seeing Gaius in his armor, helmet in his hands, was not uncommon. To appear in full regalia in the Palace was to be expected, but so was removing faceplates, an attempt at earnesty and honesty between peers and superiors.

(Solus rather liked being able to look a soldier in the eye when they displeased him. Words were not needed: the disgust in his golden eyes spoke for itself.)

Praetorium had left his gait uneven and his face marred by burn marks. The Agrius, however, had come incredulously close to disfiguring his features. Even the best of Garlean science and technology still had months worth of healing time involved.

The force of being so close to the blast had, essentially, crumpled his helm. When he stumbled off the broken husk of his ship, it was out of sheer adrenaline.

His helmet had to be cut off entirely. It fractured part of his orbital bone and jaw, the impact dislocating several teeth and chipping multiple others. Even as he began to heal with aid of metal wiring in his jaw, he would need a surgery or two to replace the lost teeth in his mouth.

He had failed before, aye - but none had been worn as obviously as this one. He could no longer look his superiors in the eye without them seeing his downfall. The swelling in his cheek and jaw took weeks to fully subside, speech slurring from the lack of teeth in one side.

Until his implants were placed and his tissue fully recovered, Gaius was not seen without his helmet, an act that truly turned man into monster. No longer could he look himself in the mirror and see himself: now he saw where he had gone wrong, again and again.

He could not allow a second mistake. He wouldn't.

#ⅹⅳ tertius oculus ( hcs. )#war tw #injuries tw #graphic violence tw #eye gore tw #mouth gore tw #broken bones tw

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hlcynsouls · 6 months

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→ CONT . FROM HERE . @violentdesires !

THE PRINCESS SHRUGS with faux modesty . " just paying my dues . to king and crown and ... all that . " her gaze has dragged back to the demon hanging from her fist , blood sputtering , and her gaze promises that his debts remain astronomical , despite his current situation . she's far from done , here — but for once , protocol must be observed . patience isn't usually her virtue , and although she rarely indulges in it , she's old enough to exercise self-control when needed — enough , at least , to carefully test the boundaries of this reinstated court and exact her earned revenge both . " your majesty is too kind for the offer . " but why choose between answers and a trial ? the crime deserves her ( violent ) dissection of ... the facts , of course , and a fitting punishment . for all involved . camilla's smile is angelic as she replies : " if it's all the same to you , i'd advocate for both . all in the spirit of appropriate judgement , naturally . " the sincerity in her tone might fool all but the king — and ciaran , who can feel her fingers twitch under his tongue by now . if she twists a little more , she might shake loose a couple more teeth . it's hard to suppress a grin at the thought . " i've some ideas of the details , but it's not a complete picture by far . there's some questions left to answer before we have all the information necessary for a complete trial , no ? "

#gore tw #graphic violence tw #( she has;;; zero chill left i'm so sorry hsdfgsdfs )#violentdesires #& camilla → interactions .#& camilla / zion → 02 .

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opalescent-apples · 1 year

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This is my ongoing prequel fanfiction for Discord Murder Party! It starts as a road trip with Murder God and Aelethias and Baku, but spirals into something else...there are moments with all the Awakened, and explorations of the relationship between the Black Stars Pantheon. There will be mood whiplash. There will be games. There will be eldritch evil. There will be poetic bullshit.

Please heed all the content warnings in the tags. The mature rating is for the violence and abuse depicted in the story; there is no smut. I'm not sure my depictions of the sensitive topics are accurate or handled well, so please proceed with caution.

#body horror tw #abusive relationships tw #psychological horror tw #graphic violence tw #discord murder party #charlie dmp #fanfiction #prequel #aelethias #baku #cernos #road trips #spoilers #dmp spoilers

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prurienthellhound · 2 years

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‘𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝐵𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒶𝓃,

𝐼’𝓂 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎𝓈, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝐼 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇, 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒿𝑜𝓎, 𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓀𝓃𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈, 𝓃𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃’𝓈 𝒻𝓁𝑒𝓈𝒽. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓇𝒾𝓅 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓊𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓋𝑜𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝓈𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝓇𝒶𝓅𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈.

𝐼 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉’𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓅𝒾𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝑜𝓃𝒹– 𝒶 𝒹𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓃𝒸𝓎 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃. 𝐼’𝓂 𝒶𝒹𝒹𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹, 𝑜𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝓅𝒽𝓎𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓎 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓈… 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒. 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒸𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑔𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓃𝑜𝓌.

𝐼 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇.

𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑒𝓉. 𝐼 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓁𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒩𝑒𝓅𝒽𝓈 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒾𝓃𝓋𝑜𝓁𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈? 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓈, 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎’𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓊𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁. 𝒜𝒸𝒸𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎, 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒.

𝒲𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝒶𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉? 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓂 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓀𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓌𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓇𝒶𝒹𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂.

𝒫𝓁𝓊𝓈, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓋𝒾𝓃𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑒. 𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓁𝓁, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓂𝑒.

𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹.’

As he scribbled the last period, Najelon stared at the quill they borrowed from Teddy’s desk. The bastard was old fashioned even for his stationary. Yes, his clothes weren’t so bad but the long lived Incubus liked mixing things up, spicing them so he didn’t look like he was a time traveler refusing to blend in, ugh. It sure looked good on the Vampire, somehow.

The Demon stepped up towards the small altar for Bastian he built in his new, temporary home. A dark flame danced around atop an even darker candle, black as Demon blood. The paper was consumed faster than the human eye could capture and the remaining flames dug into Naj’s skin as if they came from him. Heat that as many other things reminded him of the absence that tortured his existence. It had been so long since the last time he felt so empty and furious. He had been once more ripped off his lover, although this time he could actually bring her back, the real Raven, not some twisted prank the universe was playing on him.

The Incubus sat down on the armchair that was now theirs, black eyes focused on the spacious void in front of him. He knew what Bastian would say, he’d just want Najelon to try out his strategy, so there was no time to waste. One plan to solve all of his problems. Well, at least the main two. He just needed the right people to do the right job. And souls, as many as he could get.

Sighing, a small spark of excitement ignited within him. Eagerness for all the blood he would shed with his own hands.

#self para #about him #violence tw #graphic violence tw #rape mention tw

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imsobadatnicknames2 · 2 years

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Made OpenAI write a Seinfeld lost episode creepypasta.

#graphic violence tw #i guess

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tittyfixation · 1 year

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Each one of the Reaper Pirates believed to always pick and choose their battles. Why get mad at someone who chooses to spill their drink on you? Or call you stupid? It always said more about the other person than it did about you. But when someone insults or hurts one of their own?

They better start praying before any of them start moving.

Some may say Masahi was needlessly cruel when it came to people insulting his crewmates, especially his captain. But Etsuko was one of the most important people in his life, taking him in when nobody else wanted him. Well, before he at least figured out everything with his mom. Etsuko and Anaya both were the first ones to accept every square inch of him, unconditionally. Even Etsuko makes him love his spider traits a lot. Anaya always makes sure that each one of his spiders that he creatures are gently taken care of and brought back to him safely.

So who could blame Masahi then for strangling some shitty pirate captain for calling Etsuko and Anaya both some mean names? And leaving the rest of them strung up by his webs? Masahi stared up at his work as all of the people dangled up in the tree branches while their captain laid dead in the sentence. Paler than he was when he first saw them.

“Look, kid, we’re sorry on behalf of our captain, just please let us go,” some random pleaded, the end of his sentence being choked out as the webs moved to tighten around his neck. Masahi used his other arms to tighten the webs for the rest of the crew.

“I’m not interested in apologies. I want you all dead,” Masahi told the crew. Their eyes all widened, besides the random guy who turned purple. With a second thought, Masahi loosened the grip on the ransom’s neck but never letting them go out of the webs. “But I am feeling generous. I won’t kill you.”

A suppressed laugh bubbles up out of his chest at their relieved expressions, watching them immediately drop. Masahi crossed a pair of his arms over his chest. He eyed all of his prey in their webs, a large web of its own being formed. Like a black widow, Masahi had them trapped.

Masahi was also many other things. A pirate. A navigator. A criminal. And to his current enemies, he was a liar.

Pressing his primary right hand and left hand together, he bent both of his ring fingers at the same time. Masahi’s smile widened at his gesture and he giggled as he listened to the sound of venom traveling through the webs. With how he ate today, the venom should get them in about 20 minutes. Masahi hoped nobody was out in the woods watching them.

“Be grateful when something else kills all of you,” Masahi shouts at all of them as he walks away “because it will hurt you all more when it’s me.”

#33/365 #noor.writes #masahi;#a diamond in the sea #graphic violence tw #just to be safe

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angelnumber27 · 1 year

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The Tyre Nichols Memorial Fund

Tyre Nichols was loved by his community and was known to be gentle, kind, and joyful. He loved skating and was originally from the Bay Area in California. He was known as someone “you know when he comes through the door he wants to give you a hug” and that “he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“He had never been in trouble with the law, not even a parking ticket. He was an honest man, a wonderful son, and kind to everyone. He was quirky and true to himself, and his loss will be felt nationally.”

Btw, the link includes a photo of graphic injuries. View with discretion.

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one-time-i-dreamt · 3 months

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There was a murder in my school and Chloe Decker was investigating it, but instead of Netflix Lucifer being there with her, it was Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel.

Also Alastor (also from Hazbin Hotel) was just there, lurking in the technical graphics classroom.

#dream #lucifer netflix #hazbin lucifer #chloe decker #hazbin alastor #murder tw #death tw #violence tw #netflix #lucifer #hazbin hotel #classroom #graphics

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heirbane · 8 months

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81. red <3

one word prompts.

He wasn't going to die. That almost made it worse.

Gaius had, throughout his years, faced many a foe - his own people included. Such a thing was not common, but to see soldiers attempt to turn sides and instigate violence came part and parcel with being in Garlemald.

It never ended well for them. Even then, it was a surge of instinct and decades of training that had him able to look his comrades in the face as he disemboweled them, a terminus est tearing them limb from limb. It was not until they staggered to their knees, the sound of blood bubbling into their throat, that the legatus truly realized he had bloodied his blade on his own countrymen.

Such a fate was deserved, he had once believed. Maybe he had gotten soft over the course of his own betrayal: their actions almost seemed pitiable, not damnable. One didn't defect without a reason, and he was no longer blind to the Empire's cause.

They were not perfect. Their ends did not justify their means, something he had once believed with ease. He knew that now.

This was the cost of returning to a land he had abandoned. This was the price for betrayal, he believed: the cold was no longer a friend but an ache in his bones, the corpses of those he left behind no longer stagnant and abandoned.

He hadn't heard their approach. The rustle of fabric was lost in the wind whistle; the slurred speech ignored in his deaf ear, softened under a thick woolen hat.

He was so ensnared with attempting to scrounge parts and pieces from the abandoned road machina that Gaius only caught 'Garlemald' - and by the time he turned his head, the rotting maw of a tempered soldier was upon him.

It was Hyur in form but not in reality. Blackened talons and sharpened teeth ripped through the fabric of his coat with ease, causing the man to stumble away from the machina he had been harvesting from.

Gaius pulled a knife from his waistband. He stared into the glazed, shrunken eyes of a soldier half his age, uniform baggy on his decaying form, and stabbed his knife into the man's throat.

He gurgled, blackened blood spilling from his frostbitten lips. With another yank of his weapon, the soldier's neck opens, sinew and muscle ripping apart against the serrated edge of the blade.

Gaius had scarcely caught his breath and gathered his wits when the corpse began to smoke and disappear, glittering, soot-like aether dissipating into the air.

He hoped the parts the Alliance wanted was worth the scare. He patted his pockets, ensuring the pieces were still there, and motioned to stand. It wasn't until he pulled his hand from within that he noticed the slick against his leather gloves.

The tempered man hadn't simply torn his coat. The blood on his glove was too fresh to belong to the corpse, and it took little more than him setting his sights on it for his adrenaline to wane.

He was back in a cot in Eorzea, a gray-skinned Elezen unwrapping the gauze from his wounded, misshapen arm, barely able to focus to truly be aware that the appendage belonged to him. The same coppery nausea crept into his throat.

A gloved hand peeled back what remained of his coat and underlayers, already wet with blood and beginning to freeze. The skin here wasn't red with burns but with viscera, a palm-sized strip of flesh ripped from his abdomen and weeping into the winter air.

( "Keep your hands out've it," Valdeaulin had snarled. "You'll make it fester."

What was it with wounds, he thought, that had sufferers wish to touch? What part of their mind saw their own body, bloodied and disfigured, and wished to ensure it truly belonged to them?

Gaius wasn't sure. But he was back there again, smelling of soot and ash and sickness, staring at the charred, half-there remains of his left arm and wanting desperately to ensure it wasn't his. )

It had been his. And this was his, too. How far had he fallen, he thought, to be wounded by one of his own so easily - and to be pulled into his ruminations by so little of a reminder. He recovered the exposed tissue, pressing his hand against the fabric in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

He had gotten the part. It was little more than an ignition for the engine, something they hoped to use in one of the dilapidated ceruleum heaters. And he would not return to become a nuisance to those who had been without for too long already.

He grit his teeth, swallowing down the bile at the memory of his broken body, and steeled his resolve. He would handle this himself.

He had to.

#my first thought when i saw this: something sappy w/ My OTP Ship regarding blood signaling death until it signals new life #my thought now: suffer you old man :)#ptsd tw #blood tw #gore tw #suffering tw #graphic violence tw #violence tw #i'm always on the fence abt tagging d.ead dove on this blog #it's not THAT bad but also where is the threshold for 'that bad'???#i like to imagine this is one of those outings from broken glass where he Had to be Babysat bc he can't be trusted #g.aius pretending he's not bleeding: im fine thx

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