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runawaymun · 4 days

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Ask me about my not-yet-written-fics from this list

@linesofreturninggeese

Okay, so this is something I was talking over with @metatomatoes because I wanted Celebrimbor to survive so badly but like, I just could not see how it was possible, and then we got to talking and fucking around with Elvish biology and I think I can make it work.

this is all based on the foundation that Elrond and Celebrimbor were very close in the second age, and/or it piggybacks on the To Partake universe. Either way, they have an Osanwe bond. Not quite a marriage bond. It's a bit weaker than that, but a bond nonetheless.

there are human burn victims who have lost a tremendous amount of skin with medical care and survived, right?

and obviously the greatest risks here are blood loss, infection, and hypothermia

It's reasonable to me to assume that elves have pretty good blood clotting.

We also know from canon that they're better at regulating their temp than we are

If elves are pretty much immune to infection, we can knock that out.

With some sketchy research the general consensus is that a human IRL could, after being flayed, last 36 hours, or perhaps up to a week (if given fluids and semi cared for).

Reasonable to me to assume because Sauron is Sauron that he might continue to toy with Celebrimbor post-flaying, which means he has a vested interest in keeping him alive a bit longer.

Also reasonable to assume that elvish bodies can withstand quite a lot, considering Maedhros survived torture and being hung off a mountainside for a really long time while captured by Morgoth.

So, the final kicker here IIRC was @metatomatoes' idea - which is, what if elves are essentially able to drop into a stasis state? Like where everything slowly shuts down to minimal functions in order to survive extreme conditions? Explains a lot of things, really.

With that, what if rather than dying, Celebrimbor drops into stasis.

Stasis is no fun for Sauron :( Celebrimbor's not making fun noises anymore when he gets hurt.

So at this point Sauron has him shot full of arrows (assuming that he'll be dead soon) and hangs him up to taunt Elrond and Gil-Galad, per the canon events.

Everyone at this point is pretty confident that Celebrimbor is dead as a doornail,

EXCEPT ELROND.

Because he can absolutely feel through their Osanwe bond that there's something left there, and post-siege of Eregion when they finally recapture everything and pull Celebrimbor down, everyone is like "Elrond he's dead, we promise he's dead" and Elrond is like "I promise he's not!!!!!!!!! he's in stasis!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And Elrond by now has Vilya, which enhances his already incredibly strong healing.

Also I have already established within my own universe that Elrond is a bit of a necromancer, so long as someone is only mostly dead (re Princess Bride hehe).

SO, he manages to bring Celebrimbor back from the grave.

And granted, Celebrimbor is like, severely fucked up and perhaps does not even want to continue living, but Elrond is determined.

Once Celebrimbor has recovered (it is a long, slow road) he winds up just living with Elrond in Rivendell, possibly under an alias idk. But hey everyone talks about that weirdly good smith in Rivendell. Like uncannily good smith.

I like to imagine that he's the one who reforged Anduril :3

#torture cw #celebrimbor #elrond

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irrealisms · 10 months

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PERPETRATOR TRAUMA - a c!quackity web weave

[IDs and sources under cut]

Image 1: What Torture is Used For -To Punish or Humiliate: this seems to occur when the victim is perceived as guilty either by action or association.

Image 2: A painting of a slaughterhouse.

Image 3: A drawing of Quackity from behind. He is holding a pair of pliers.

Image 4: Similarly, by becoming an abuser, someone who has been abused can play the role of the more powerful person in the relationship in an attempt to overcome the powerlessness they felt. Unfortunately, this is not effective, and they may repeatedly dominate others in a futile attempt to get over the weakness they experienced.

Image 5: A picture of a calendar. Each day is labeled "Visit Dream".

Image 6: I had his arms tied up behind him We were together all day

Image 7: QUACKITY: Yes sir, yes sir.

Image 8: DREAM: Yes, sir.

Image 9: The word "REVENGE", repeating over and over.

Image 10: There’s a growing body of evidence that torture has a negative psychological effect on the torturer.

Image 11: people who carry out executions or torture,

Image 12: His work already finished by 8am, he slowly sipped on a brandy

Image 13: Associated substance use disorders

Image 14: a picture of a pair of scissors, open and somewhat rusted.

Image 15: three pieces of blood-soaked, dark red cloth, on top of a red-brown canvas.

Image 16: with a sound that mimics the heartbeat of the victim, and with the narrator driving aimlessly through the desert, trying in vain to find peace.

Image 17: SLIME: Is it ever worth it? QUACKITY: No. No, it’s not.

#mcyt #dsmp #quackity #c!quackity #web weaving #torture cw #abuse cw #gore cw #alcohol cw #web weave #collage #my edit

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pianokantzart · 2 months

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@jell-o101. My friend. Are we forgetting the image of Lumalee with his back full of spears or the red hot coals forcefully shoved into KP's mouth?

#torture cw #also ''an amputated foot'' as though it was done in a hospital #as though he wasn't held down and had it slowly torn away with a serrated hand saw #YE WHO HAS NO SIN CAST THE FIRST STONE #I am pretty proud though hehehehe #VENGEANCE!!!

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yandere--stuck · 3 months

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if you have any more thoughts on the Joker Junior extending the family take I'd love to hear them!! Would J be interested in having Nightwing with them? Or Alfred? I'm not sure how well either of them would take to the venom, but if they have Batman anything's possible

Less ideas and more of an actual fic, oopsie!

---

Three weeks. Three long, agonizing weeks without Tim. Three weeks of hoping beyond all hope that he was somehow fine. That they'd all look back on this and laugh.

But, no. Eventually, Bruce was able to get word that The Joker and Harley had holed themselves up in the abandoned Arkham Asylum, and something in his gut that made him sick knew there was some correlation.

Part of him hadn't wanted Barbara to come along, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to stop her even if he tried. So, the two of them traversed through the crumbling asylum together and followed the echoing sound of Harley's voice singing a lullaby.

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word,

Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird,

And if that mockingbird don't sing,

Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring….”

Closer, closer. It took both of them every bit of will they had not to sprint through the halls as fast as their legs could carry them. As Harley’s voice grew even louder, Barbara split up to find another way in while Bruce took the lead. His heart nearly leapt from his chest with anticipation as he closed in on her location.

“And if that diamond ring is brass,

Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass,

And if that looking glass gets broke-”

The moment Harley saw him burst through the double doors, she perked up, greeting Bruce with a smile. She was cradling a flower vase in her arms, which she set down onto a covered table. Craning her neck, she shouted over her shoulder. “Puddin’, Hubby's home!”

Bruce’s eyes followed Harley’s gaze, spotting Joker on the second floor where he rested on a recliner. With a flourish, The Clown rose to his feet, turning away from his rabbit-eared television set and popping a pipe from his mouth, tossing it aside.

“Well, hello, dear!” Joker strolled down the stairs, stopping just shy of Batman. He wrapped an arm around Harley, the two of them smiling sweetly at their bat. “Welcome home.”

Bruce all but snarled in their faces, leaning close and baring his teeth. “Where's Robin?”

Both clowns shared a quizzical look.

“Robin?” Joker repeated with a quirk of his head. “There's no Robin here!”

“Maybe he means our little J,” Harley offered.

The Clown Prince of Crime snapped his fingers. “Of course! That's it.”

Meeting the Bat's eyes, smiling back at his scowl, Joker gestured to the other side of the room. To whatever was being concealed behind the large blue curtain. And Bruce couldn't help his rage, shoving the couple aside roughly as he moved to cross the room.

The Joker stumbled back, recovering with the shake of his head and click of his tongue. “He must be so stressed out from work.”

“I hate it when he gets like this. He never knows when ta relax,” Harley shook her head and reached underneath the table, pulling out a bazooka from beneath the tablecloth. She fired, and a band of ribbons erupted from the muzzle, knocking Batman to the floor with a hard thud and wrapping him up like a gift - bow and all.

“Good thing he has us. Hmm, now what say we bring this little gift of ours back to the bedroom to unwrap?”

Joker's grin stretched just a little wider as he noticed the movement of Batman's hand - holding it up just so as if to signal someone, just out of eyesight, to stand down. Joker's eyes crinkled. Perfect. He wondered, was it the eldest birdboy? Or maybe they'd be getting two bats with one stone?

“Y'know, Bat's, we've been doing this little run around for years,” Joker spoke again, approaching his prone enemy. “It's been loads of laughs! But the sad fact is - none of us are getting any younger.”

Harley joined his side, patting her stomach. “That ol’ clock's a tickin’!”

“Quite right, Pooh! So, Harley and I were thinking it's about time the three of us finally settled down together.”

“But rather than experiencing the joys of pregnancy, we decided the best way would be to just marry into the family.”

Hand-in-hand, the clowns walked over their Bat's prone form to each rest a hand on the curtain in front of them.

“But no matter how happy we are to join you, we were a bit disappointed that we didn't really have the chance to nurture them, too,” Joker lamented. “And after all, what better way to officially join the family than to impart a little bit of our personalities to the kiddos? He needed a bit of molding, of course, but-”

The couple yanked on each side of the curtain, the blue cloth sliding and billowing out as it parted - revealing a child strapped to a medical examination table.

“... What kid doesn't?” Joker finished with a grin, drinking in the Dark Knight's reaction.

Bruce couldn't help the exhale of ‘no’ that left him. Couldn't even blink, too horrified to look away from what had been done to Tim. The horror set in all at once, like freezing water flooding through every nerve in his system.

Joker brought Tim forward with the click of a button, the table rolling forward and bringing the boy into the light.

Tim...

His face an acid-washed white. His hair an unearthly green. His Robin costume now replaced with an exact recreation of Joker's own suit. And his face… Contorted in a pained smile and his eyes wide and afraid, unblinking.

“Say hello to Dada, JJ,” Joker cooed.

Tim's eyes, seeming to glow red in the light, shifted from Joker to Batman. He leaned further into the light, locking eyes with Bruce, and laughed. He laughed in a way Bruce had never, ever heard before. He unbound himself from the table, leaping to the floor on scrawny legs - God, how much weight had he lost in such a short amount of time. What had they done to his boy?

All at once, the cold shock and dawning horror inside Bruce shifted - and his whole body was alight with rage, like a fire inside threatening to escape through every orifice as he ripped through his bonds. The shout he made was near inhuman, launching a batarang he had cut the ribbons with directly at Joker's head, only for the Clown to dodge it with ease.

Harsh giggles flooded from Joker's throat, wiggling a finger in a ‘come hither’ motion before jumping onto the now vacant medical table, rocketing off with the click of a button, causing Bruce to almost stumble and reorient himself to take off after him - and leaving Barbara to deal with Harley.

—

Giggles bubbled from Tim JJ's throat as he stared unblinkingly down at his father, body crumpled on the floor, cape draped almost protectively over his prone body. And with giddy glee, The Joker Papa J hopped down from the giant building blocks he was perched upon, where he had sliced at Batman and sent him tumbling down only seconds ago.

It was all a blur for Bruce. The chase. The horrific videos of Tim… Tim's torture. Three weeks. Three weeks of that Hell. Electrocution. Beatings. Torment. Starvation. And it was all his fault. He'd failed him. The rage that had filled him nearly completely, made him seen red, had all been snuffed out.

First Jason. Now Tim. And Bruce still couldn't bring him to end this. His vision swam, and he could barely even focus. Not on Tim. Not on the man who tortured him. But… Wait. Where was-?

With a final hop, Joker landed in front of Batman in a crouch, hovering over him with a sly grin.

“You've lost, Bruce,” He rasped, and just hearing the name on the clown's lips made JJ seize up, his forever-smile momentarily twitching and a flood of nervous giggles escaping him. The clown continued, voice low. “Robin is mine… And now, so are you.”

And with a hearty heft, Joker lifted Bruce up by the scruff of his cowl and cape, as if presenting him. The grin of his face, the look in his eyes, as he looked down on his enemy. So proud of himself, so smug.

And Bruce. He looked in a daze, lost and beaten. Blood dripped from his lips.

This isn't what Papa promised. He said everything would be okay now. That he'd see Dad and Dick and Babs and Alfred again and he wouldn't be mean or hurt him again, because Papa knew he would be good now…

But when Joker met his eyes, something in them changed - his smile warping to somehow become comforting, happier. The darkness in his eyes dissipated, replaced with an excited shine. And with a free hand, The Clown grabbed for a large gun that looked more like a toy than anything.

“Here ya go, sonny-boy!” He said, tossing the weapon.

JJ scrambled forward to catch it. He couldn't help but notice how light the gun felt as he cradled it in his shaking, gloved hands. For a moment, he couldn't look away.

“Make him one of us,” The Joker urged, voice like a hiss.

It wasn't a conscious decision to aim the gun. It just happened. Like one minute, JJ was there and gone and back again. His hands shook so hard that he could hardly keep the weapon straight. Could barely even look at him. At the mask. At the man behind it.

“Tim…” Batman breathed. JJ had never heard his voice sound so small.

JJ would swear he couldn't breathe if it weren't for the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the wheezing, giggling exhales that escaped him as he struggled to calm down. Tears threatened to pool from his eyes.

This wasn't right. But, Papa knows best. He said everything would be okay afterward. He said he wouldn't be punished again. But, he couldn't. But, he couldn't run, either - too scared. Too weak. He wanted to be home. He wanted his family. He wanted to stop crying, to be able to breathe, to run into his fathers’ arms-

“It's alright now, JJ,” The Joker soothed, recapturing the boy's attention. “Just pull the trigger, and everything will be okay.”

JJ wanted his Papa to be telling the truth. He just wanted everything to be okay. He just wanted it all to stop. Bruce, please forgive him.

His finger squeezed around the trigger-

Joker's laugh filled the room, just as a green mist began flooding from the gun’s opening. It spread through the air and quickly covered both men. Joker laughed long and loud as he clung to Batman. He pulled his Bat into an embrace, a smile so bright and wide it made the corners of his mouth rip, as Bruce began to choke and hack.

The man seized up and shook in Joker's arms. Slow at first, but soon trembling and writhing in agony, barely restrained and pained chuckles escaping him. So much hurt flooding through every nerve and system that almost faculties left him. His lungs burned, his face ached, he couldn't feel his extremities and wouldn't have been able to hold himself up without Joker's hold on him. Bruce wasn't sure if he could speak or even breathe anymore, but somehow his body found it in itself to betray him, forcing laughter from gritted teeth.

Joker took a knee, gently laying Batman to the ground. The bat spasmed and jerked. Tears began to fall from behind his mask, shining on his cheeks in the light. Gloved hands caressed the sides of Bruce's face. Green eyes glinted in the light as they watched each movement of the other man - every sputter, every gasp, every choked out laugh, every pained, slowly blooming smile that wobbled onto his face.

“You must be so scared, aren't you, sweetheart?” Joker cooed. “You've been scared this whole time, haven't you? Ever since that night in the alleyway...”

Batman didn't reply - couldn't. His eyes crinkled as his smile grew involuntarily. All he could do was return the man's gaze with a manic smile that wasn't his own.

Joker stroked the top of his cowl lovingly. “But it's okay now, Bruce. You don't have to be scared anymore. You don't have to be strong. Don't have to hold yourself back. Me and Harl will build you back up to what you were meant to be. We'll be brave for you now. And do you know why?”

Bruce couldn't respond. For one, the agony of whatever this was, whatever Joker had planned for him, blotted out almost all thoughts in his mind completely. Could only tremble and writhe and cry and laugh. Laugh. Laugh. The laughing made it hurt just a little less. But he could still barely even register what the other man was saying. What he could register, though, was the image of Joker slowly leaning down to press his lips to Bruce's cloaked forehead.

“Because we love you.” Joker finished.

—

“Ohhhh, Harley!” Joker's voice rang through the cavernous halls of the abandoned asylum. “Barbie's turn!”

Barbara's stomach sunk to her feet and her heart skipped a beat. Barbie? No. No, there was no way, he could have known her name. Oh God, what happened to Bruce-?

In the middle of her ruminations, Harley caught her by surprise. A jab to the face, the pull of her leg to trip her up leaving her scrambling to correct her fall- only for her to feel hand grasp tightly at the nape of her neck, coiling painfully at the root of her hair. She was shoved onto her stomach, face-to-face with the dirty, cracked tiles of the former asylum’s floor.

“You know what that means! C'mon, Barbie,” Harley grunted, fingers twisting in the roots of her hair. She lunged forward, slamming her face to the floor with a sick crunch. “Let's go party!”

And everything went dark.

… Barbara awoke with a groan. The smell of pennies flooded her nostrils. Her vision was bleary and swam as she struggled to open her eyes.

A dark figure entered her vision from her periphery, and it loomed over a figure clad in purple. And for a moment, just one moment, she allowed herself to hope.

But, that hope crumbled just as quickly as Joker's voice entered her ears.

“You're okay, Bruce, you're okay, sweetie. You're gonna play nice now, right?”

Barbara couldn't help but shudder at the sound of Bruce's laugh in reply.

Hands found their way to Barbara's hair again, this time much softer. Not grabbing, just brushing and stroking almost soothingly.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs ‘n bakey,” Harley sang as she carded her hands through the younger woman's hair. “Y'know, I've always wanted a daughter. A little girl of my own. You think you'd ever want Mama to braid your hair for you? It's so pretty!”

“Ah, welcome back to the land of the living, Barbie,” Joker greeted. “Your Dad and I were just talking about you. A real chip off the ol’ block. Now all we need is to make it official.”

Barbara watched as Tim approached Bruce, pushing a gun of some kind into his hands. The Batman held it in his hands, smiling down at the weapon - but seemed almost hesitant. Unsure. Like he knew this was wrong. Like the weapon would somehow come alive and bite him.

“Batman, listen to me,” Batgirl pleaded. “Don't do this. Whatever they've done to you, this isn't you.”

“Oh, but it is! And soon it'll be you, too,” Harley corrected, walking back to give herself some distance.

“I know you're torn, Batsy, but I promise this is for the best,” Joker rubbed circles into the other man's back. “We'll all finally be together. Once we get Barbie here, then we'll get Dick and Al. And we'll be a family! They'll never be hurt again. You'll never be hurt again, sweetheart. I won't let anything bad happen anymore. You'll get your happily ever after. You won't be afraid ever again, I promise.”

Tears stung at Barbara's cheeks as she begged. “Batman, please!”

And for a moment, she thought she somehow got through to him. They locked eyes and Bruce smiled at her with a smile that isn't his own. But, she thought she could see understanding or recognition or something in his eyes, and was sure he'd toss the gun away and start kicking Joker's ass.

But, she was wrong.

With a hiss, green toxin flooded all around her. Even over her screams, the sounds of Joker, Tim, Harley, and Bruce's laughter smothered her completely. And soon after, so did her own.

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aarontveit · 7 days

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When I was a child, I heard voices Some would sing and some would scream You soon find you have few choices I learned the voices died with me

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vague-humanoid · 6 months

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#torture cw #state violence #Palestine

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crivalsduo · 4 months

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now i'm thinking about c!techno being locked up in the prison but in a different cell and hearing c!dream scream and c!quackity coming by with blood dripping off him and telling him all the things he did to dream and techno not being able to do anything about it. this is the man he loves and he can't do anything.

#p.c. post #dreamnoblade #torture cw

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thecorvidforest · 8 months

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I need you all to know about the Judge Rotenberg Center in Massachusetts.

(Content warning for below the cut: ableism, electroshock torture of developmentally & intellectually disabled people, mention of death)

Two days ago (Sep. 7th, 2023), the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled that a residential school called the Judge Rotenberg Center can continue to use electric shock devices called GEDs (graduated electronic decelerator) that are worn 24/7 to attempt to control the actions of developmentally & intellectually disabled people.

JRC calls itself an education & treatment school for “emotionally disturbed students with conduct, behavior, emotional, and/or psychiatric problems, as well as those with intellectual disabilities or on the autism spectrum” (according to their website). They have around 50 residences throughout Massachusetts. Their strategies center around restraint and punishment for unwanted behaviors. At least five deaths are attributed directly and indirectly to their treatments.

They say these electric shock devices, which are stronger than a police grade taser and are irrefutably shown to cause permanent mental & physical damage, are “life saving” and that they’re used on people “for whom all other treatment options have been tried and failed”.

Here’s a short list of things their “students” (who are placed there by their families and very likely have no choice in the matter, and are disproportionately Black/Brown/Indigenous) are shocked for:

hand flapping/stimming

standing up

sitting down

swearing

speaking

not fulfilling a simple task

any perceived disobedience

making noises because of their disability

making noises while being shocked (such as screaming or crying)

sitting in the "wrong" way

acting without permission

incontinence

More info on JRC here and on their history here (content warning: graphic & disturbing descriptions of ableism & torture in both links, death & suicide in the 2nd link).

This is just the latest piece of an ongoing battle to stop electric shock treatment on disabled people. In 2023 we are still not seen as human enough to be the victims of human rights violations.

Info on how you can help here. Disabled people have been trying to get eyes on this fight for decades. Please talk about it. Please don’t let this go unseen like it always does.

#stop the shock #ableism #cw ableism #tw ableism #ableism tw #ableism cw #judge rotenberg center #shock therapy #torture #tw torture #torture tw #electric shock #cw torture #torture cw #disability #disability advocacy #developmental disability #intellectual disability #disability justice

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sn0id · 8 months

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In honor of Spooky Season, this is yet another PSA that McKamey Manor is a scam and a cult. The so-called "scariest haunted house in America" is not a haunted house, it is a janky yard to which the sadistic creep known as Russ McKamey lures victims with the potential of a cash prize, assaults these people to the point of hospitalization and disability, and will do anything to ensure he never has to pay the prize money.

Do check out the youtube channel Reckless Ben, where they are currently in the process of exposing this scam. They are far from the first to try, but have gotten close enough that they are currently being sued by Russ. Unfortunately, shady business has youtube suppressing this content so it hasn't blown up as it should have. I won't go into specifics here because there's too much history, but it is a wild ride and an issue that is in desperate need of more recognition. So please look this up and reblog. Whether you're in it for the entertainment or because it's an important cause that's way overdue, I really don't care, the word just needs to get out.

#spooky #spooky season #mckamey manor #russ kckamey #torture tw #torture cw #torture mention #long post #psa #this has been a psa #important #this is important #important information #important psa #just a psa #good to know #halloween #haunted house

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wren-kitchens · 2 months

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oooo dredge au drabble (pretend i’ve actually mentioned this au on tumblr shh) it’s not really long enough for proper formatting but it took me two weeks so. it’s going great over here

cw for torture

“must we always endure this? is my word not enough?”

gem turns, anger rising in her chest like a solid thing as she resists the very tempting urge to punch the stupid collector right in her stupid jaw. maybe then, gem would at least get answers about whatever this ‘crucial task’ she has to prepare for actually is, rather than vague messages about how she’s destined for it—whatever that means. it’s no real answer, that’s for sure; it sounds more like a cop-out of explaining whatever is actually happening.

“is your word- no, it absolutely is not!” gem snaps, and the air in the room seems to thicken. “you come in here with your demands that I get you the rarest items in the game, and not only do I not get payment, but you just keep giving me more jobs!”

the collector merely watches as gem tries her best not to start throwing stuff. honestly, she should be happy gem hasn’t already tried to strangle her, what with how ridiculous she is. “such performances are pointless; I will not elaborate.”

“oh, you’re one to talk.” gem scoffs indignantly. “your ridiculous claims that ‘the ocean does not wish to provide for you’, and i’m being dramatic?” gem takes a step towards her. “I don’t have to do this, you know. I can just stop- you can either do it on your own, or the outcome that you refuse to tell me just- won’t happen.”

something catches in the collector’s eye—a red light from somewhere in the room. “I recommend that you do not chose that course of action.” her voice seems louder somehow, echoing around the room.

“oh yeah?” gem folds her arms. “you think I care about- whatever you think you could do to me?”

the collector’s eyes are cold. “I believe you should.”

“you believe, do you?” gem snorts. “you can’t even leave! what do you think you can even do to me?” she turns around, ready to walk away. “look, grian was asking for my help with the underwater horse track, so i’m gonna-“

within an instant, it’s as if her blood has turned to fire, and gem crumples to the ground, a guttural scream tearing at the inside of her throat. her breaths are ragged- is she going to die- she’s going to die. grian mentioned something- code disintegrating- is that what this is? gem wouldn’t be surprised.

time seems to be disintegrating along with every fibre of her being- how long has gem been stuck in this seemingly eternal state of torment? her voice splinters- surely someone must have heard her by now; gem has certainly been suffering for centuries by now.

her mind is decaying, her skin festering, her blood evaporating- she’s beyond any kind of help anyone could ever give. no one has ever felt this kind of debilitating agony before- no one has ever survived this far.

and then- as soon as it came, the torture dissipates, leaving gem choking out sobs on wet soil. that awful voice rings through her mind, dark and unforgiving; the ocean personified.

“yes. I believe you should.”

#dredge #i’ll figure out a name for this au at some point I promise #geminitay #hermitcraft #hermitctaft s10 #wren writes #torture cw

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pianokantzart · 3 months

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I've seen quite a few times the scenario where Bowser would torture Luigi to get to Mario but I've been thinking: What if King Boo would torture Mario to get to Luigi. How do you think Luigi would react to that? How would Mario react to that situation?

You know me anon. You know me well.

Okay, so... I headcanon that unless murder is his end goal (which it often is to be fair), King Boo is way more averse to physical torture than Bowser is, even with the powers of his crown's gemstone at his disposal. This is not because of a sense of pity or dignity, but because he's been dead for so long that finding the fine line between making someone suffer and accidentally making a new ghost out of his victim is kinda difficult.

What he lacks in ability to deliver controlled physical damage, however, he more than makes up for in his ability to deliver psychological damage. He likes toying with people's fears, making them feel small and helpless, dangling hope in front of them before violently ripping it away.

Also! In Luigi's Mansion Dark Moon, he was referred to by E. Gadd as the "Master of Illusions." So... let's say... he learned how to make someone experience intensely realistic hallucinations of anything he desires.

That would quickly become his go-to move in terms of delivering the most trauma possible, and he'd do it well, using Mario as a guinea pig to fine-tune his powers. So, for as long as Mario is in captivity he's living the most horrible, visceral nightmare possible, rewinding and replaying with a new terrible twist every time, watching loved ones suffer and die, unable to do anything about it. By the time Luigi reaches his brother, Mario doesn't know what's real and what's fake. He's too frightened to speak, too frightened to move, unable to believe anything he sees. No matter what Luigi tries... no matter what he says or what evidence he tries to provide... Mario can only brace himself for the moment everything is once more ripped away.

King Boo is proud of his handiwork. He not only found the perfect form of vengeance, but he broke the most revered hero in the surrounding kingdoms like a cheap toy. His first mistake was showing his hand– indirectly revealing to Luigi and E. Gadd the full extent of what he can do. His second mistake was assuming Mario's pathetic state would render Luigi crippled with fear. His third mistake was being so bold as to confront Luigi right at the moment he discovered what had happened to his brother.

Luigi wasn't frightened the way he expected him to be. Luigi wasn't even mindlessly enraged, which King Boo counted as a possibility. The green plumber went absolutely numb, pursuing the ghost with the cold determination of the machine he carried, unflinching and unmoving no matter the attack thrown at him– psychic or physical.

He only allowed himself to break down long after the fight was won. When he was ushering Mario toward E. Gadd's lab, Luigi at last crumpled to the ground, arms wrapped around his brother as he sobbed. Mario... though still unconvinced this wasn't another hallucination... could not help but hug his brother in return.

#mario headcanons #torture cw #askbox #anon #king boo #Luigi #Mario #Luigi's Mansion Dark Moon Spoilers #I may have thought about this a lot

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