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thou-babbling-brook · 6 months

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Content Warning: Bloody imagery, implied gore (it’s just pomegranates), and symbolic cannibalism (bro is traumatized)

It’s literally just dramatic pomegranate poetry visualization, but look at your own risk 😎

“I had thought Adha would be the one to lead me to rest… Instead, I held her lifeless body in my arms — saw the terror in her fixed, unblinking eyes…”

*Foams at the mouth* Altaïr and pomegranate poetry and how everyone he loves in his life dies horrible deaths that he feels are all his fault and *shaking* being ready to leave everything behind for Adha only to seek the remnants of her love by destroying those that ruined her which only rids the world of the remnants of her left behind and all consuming love and *sobbing* I am totally normal about this (I am not)

Based heavily on this post

#assassin’s creed #altaïr ibn la’ahad #ac1 #adha #ac fanart #my art #cw: blood #cw: mild gore #cw: cannibalism #ask to tag #it’s truly not too bad it’s mostly just symbolic stuff #this might become a small series bc I’m thinking abt doing one for Maria and Malik too #Altaïr is so cannibalistic love coded and I’m upset #when Adha died Altaïr gave up on a normal life and that makes me upset #bc Adha at the time was the like one person that made Altaïr feel normal and not some weapon to be used and manipulated and misconstrued #bro thought he would never love again BRO THOUGHT HE WOULD NEVER LOVE AGAIN!!!#by killing all the Templars involved he killed her memory too as though consuming her love for himself and I’m I’ll #*ill I’m not redoing that tag LOL #there’s so much symbolism here y’all have fun w that #anyways sorry Altaïr love ya babes

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bear-boi-5 · 3 months

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Stages of Infection #1

Small blood warning

Decided to make the notes Smg1 made while documenting a case. I made them as actual notes cause honestly, it would be cooler if I did it traditionally instead of digitally

Get to make the paper crumpled, make mistakes and cross them out like if Smg1 was actually writing on a piece of paper, it was just fun :3

I will be making the next pieces soon but not today, these took me a while and I'm gonna have a break until my urge to draw comes back

#au #art #drawing #traditional art #traditional drawing #smg4 #smg4 art #smg4 fanart #smg4 au #smg4 smg1 #smg1 #smg4 rob #Viral Virus AU #smg4: viral virus au #Small blood warning #cw: mild gore

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inkymaw · 2 years

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🦇 Ghostober Day 6: Bewitched Ghuleh, your beauty never, ever scared me 💀🖤🖤 ⛧ [twitt] ⛧[insta] ⛧

#my art #cw: blood #cw: mild gore #papa ii #papa emeritus ii #papa 2 #papa emeritus 2 #papa emeritus #secondo #secondo emeritus #the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #ghost the band #ghost fanart #Ghostober #Ghostober 2022

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coffee-in-veins · 4 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Crusader/Highwayman (Darkest Dungeon), Reymas Characters: Crusader (Darkest Dungeon), Highwayman (Darkest Dungeon), Collected Highwayman (Darkest Dungeon) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Darkest Dungeon 2023 zine entry, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Mental Instability, Bittersweet, part of a bigger fanfic, Survivor Guilt, dubious coping mechanisms, Mutual pinning if you squint, i'm in reymas hell and it's cozy in here Series: Part 5 of Nowhereland’s Apocrypha Summary:

Proud to finally be able to show you my contribution to the Darkest Dungeon 2023 fanzine! You can check the zine here: https://www.ddzine2023.com/

Reynauld is trying to rebuild his relationship with his dearest companion... to the horror of the rest of Hamlet, who see this as his slow but steady decline into madness.

#restructured refractured recalled #well a future mild (or not so mild?) spoiler for it i suppose #cw: mild gore #dd crusader #dd highwayman #dismas #reynauld #reymas #fanfic #fan fiction #darkest dungeon #the tapestries of words || my ao3 #the bloodied journal page || my writing #ddzine2023 #darkest dungeon zine 2023 #the collection #headmas

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oceanbluedevil · 5 months

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Hello!

Since my polls showed that people who have discovered me (through Sky content) are OK with both stuff for other fandoms and speedpaints, here's one I made of Il Dottore from Genshin Impact!

I'm definitely obsessed with evil scientists or villains in general, so this is the character I decided to paint. I never really played the game, but I watched Lore recaps of it and found the story really interesting at the time.

I'm not really engaged with the material anymore, so this is the only piece I have for this fandom.

I'm also still working on some OC content and more Sky pieces, so stay tuned!

And, just to inform you, my uploads will probably get a bit more sporadic from here on, as I still have other stuff to do, such as going to therapy and learning for my finals. I will, however, still try to at least post one artwork per week if possible!

As always, constructive criticism is appreciated!

Music used:

Track: Unknown Brain - Dead (ft. KAZHI) [NCS Release]

Music provided by NoCopyrightSounds.

Watch: • Unknown Brain - DEAD (...

Free Download / Stream: http://ncs.io/UBDead

#artists on tumblr #watercolor #art #villain #il dottore #genshin impact #evil scientist #fanart #gouache #cw: blood #cw: mild gore

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assorted-candy · 8 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Maddie Fenton, Jazz Fenton Additional Tags: Ectober Month 2023, Ectoberhaunt 2023, Dissection, Mild Gore, Blood, Angst, Ghosts Have Ectoplasm Instead of Blood (Danny Phantom), Blood in the DanganRonpa sense where it's just green this time Summary:

Ectoberhaunt Day 6: Tabletop CW: Dissection, Mild Gore, Blood

Maddie tries to make sense of the mess she made and why she couldn't do it.

#Danny Phantom #ectoberhaunt23 #Day 6 #tabletop #dissection cw #mild gore cw #gore cw #blood cw #my fanfic #CW: Dissection #CW: Mild Gore #CW: Gore #CW: Blood #dp fanfic

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transterdanse · 2 months

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Some Gigi concept stuff...

Not pictured, silly sharp teeth~!

#art #mine #furry art #fursona #cw: mild gore

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writernopal · 11 months

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🍄Chanterelles🍄

A study that I did today focused on bringing dynamic elements to dialogue and writing the dreaded duel/action scenes. I'm not sure if this will make it into AASOAF 3 as canon material but I figured I'd take this as an excuse to practice a bit of characterization with Magdalene and Sartor since they are newcomers to the cast! Enjoy or don't! Do whatever you want!

WC: 2412 CW: animal death, language, mild gore, violence Characters: Mariel, Axtapor, Magdalene, Sartor

The forest came alive around us with the gentle din of the barely waking fauna, fog still rolling between the trees. The scent of pine and other such stout evergreens filled my nose pleasantly as the leaves of their deciduous neighbors crunched beneath our careful and deliberate steps. His just a few feet ahead of mine, confidently leading the way as if these forests had hosted him his entire life.

“It’s a lovely morning,” I remarked with a smile, hoisting my skirts in my hands as we went.

“Quite! I told you it was worth slipping away!” Sartor called back, “See there?”

I took another step through the thickets, steadying myself with a single forearm against a nearby tree. He pointed down a gentle slope to a small, shaded clearing. Even from here, I could see the chanterelles we’d been searching for dotting the landscape. Plump and yellow, like meaty spring flowers.

“How did you know there would be so many here?” I asked, coming to stand beside him.

He dropped his arm and let out a satisfied sigh. “Trade secret, I’m afraid.”

“O-Oh.”

He tossed a glance my way and barked a laugh. “You see those logs? With the moss?”

I nodded.

“They like to grow on those.”

“Is that so?”

“The woods here are just like the ones outside of Eves Moore. They are easy to find there too.” He started his way down the hill. I followed. “I spent a lot of time in those woods.”

“Because the town was so lackluster?” I teased with a smile.

He laughed and turned around, walking backward as we neared the bottom of the slope. “Of course! What are towns compared to bundles of fungus?!”

I giggled as he turned back around and made for the nearest patch of mushrooms. “My goodness, there are so many!”

“Mhm!” He exclaimed as he knelt down, fetching a small curved knife from a pouch at his waist. He began to cut at the base of a few mushrooms with a practiced ease.

“Oh, what sort of knife is that?” I asked as I knelt down at a cluster close by the one he’d chosen. I pressed down on my skirts as they puffed out to settle them around me.

“A foraging knife.” He replied in a focused manner as he freed a few mushrooms from the log they’d made their home on, “Ser Achart said I shouldn’t waste battle-tested steel on plants, so I saved up my silvers and bought this first chance I got.”

“Have you noticed a difference since using it?” I asked, pulling the small dagger Axtapor gifted me from the belt at my waist. It was rather different from his—pointed and sharp, similar to a paring knife.

He shrugged. “It’s mostly the same. I suppose the hook on the end helps get closer to the base of the plant. A more precise cut.”

“Hmm.” I turned my attention to the cluster of chanterelles before me. With one hand, I delicately gripped the head of a single mushroom and, with the other, sliced away at its base. Once freed, I tossed it in my basket and continued, making my way all around the cluster.

“But it still takes just as long…” His voice traveled as if he’d just turned his head to one side. “In any case, it makes Ser Achart happy I’m not dulling valuable steel anymore.”

“She seems rather particular. Axtapor uses his knives for just about anything.” I lowered my head to peek under the crown of a shorter mushroom.

He chuckled. “He’s not a knight.”

“That’s true, but he is skilled and knows all about different weapons…and he’s rather resourceful.”

He tossed another mushroom into his basket and fixed his eyes on me. I didn’t entertain the look, pretending instead that I’d not seen it.

“Look, I’m not going to argue who is better between Ser Achart and Lord Oxlo—”

“Lord Axtapor.” I corrected him as I placed the final mushroom into my basket and wiped my knife clean, “In the Empire, men are addressed as ‘Lord’ followed by their first name.”

“Well, we’re not in the Empire. And here, men are addressed as ‘Lord’ followed by their surname.” He countered from his squatted position.

I stuck the knife into my holster and smiled pleasantly at him. “Lord Axtapor.”

He wiped his knife clean and stowed it away in the pouch it had come from, tossing me a tight-lipped and capricious smile. “Lord Axtapor.”

A small but forced laugh rose from my throat as I got on my feet and dusted my skirts off. He returned it with more zeal, clearly attempting to project some superiority. I cleared my throat as I made my way to the next patch of mushrooms, doing my best to conceal a frown.

“As I was saying, I won’t argue who is better between Ser Achart and Lord Axtapor. That wouldn’t be fair to your lord. He falls sorely short behind my ser.” He said as he overtook me with a self-satisfied look on his face—eyebrows nearly risen into his hairline and eyes closed in a carefree way.

“Ser Achart is quite brave, but I don’t believe she can count the storming of Seyes Palace as one of her many achievements,” I said as we knelt down to collect more mushrooms.

“Nor can you count leading a battalion of six hundred men and sacking the city of Catelesmar among Lord Axtapor’s.” He replied in a huff.

“Axtapor is an expert sailor.”

“Magdalene knows how to steer a chariot.”

“Well, Axtapor is a talented hunter!”

“Magdalene is too! And she’s a great shot!”

“As is Axtapor!”

“Well—!”

A threatening growl vibrated its way through the air. I froze, as did he.

“Did you hear that?” I asked in a whisper.

He quickly nodded. “We have to get out of here— Gods above! Mari! Run!” He yelled as he abandoned his basket and shot up to his feet, pointing at something behind me in a panic.

I looked over my shoulder and screamed. A massive bear was charging straight for us! I scrambled to find my footing as the pounding of the creature’s giant paws could be heard behind us. Sartor danced on impatient and fearful feet, shaking his hand in my direction.

“Hurry!”

I clapped my palm to his and he swept me off my feet, carrying me under his arm as one might an oversized bedroll. Our screams bounced with each step he took, staying just ahead of the bear’s roaring. I chanced a glance back and saw the mass of brownish-black fur bounding after us, somehow gaining speed.

“Sartor, faster! It’s catching up!”

“BEAR! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!” He shouted at the top of his lungs.

At first, I thought he was silly for doing that, but we weren’t that far from camp. There was a chance someone might actually hear us and come to our rescue.

“Help!” I screamed, “A bear! There is a bear!”

“ORRAN BE BLESSED, A BEAR!” Sartor continued.

I drew in another breath to call out for help once more when I noticed that we’d not gone up the hill we’d come down. “W-Wait! Sartor, where are we going?!”

“Away from the bear, you little idiot!”

“This isn’t the way back to camp!”

“Who cares! We outrun the bear first, then figure out how to get back!” He said, tossing a glance behind him.

“Look out!”

“Shit!”

We collided hard with a wooden fence, bursting through it on impact. Each of us grunted in pain as we tumbled across the nearly bald but grass-covered ground. My instinct was to lay there nursing what would surely become many bruises, but there was no time for that now. I struggled to my feet, bumbling my way over to Sartor, who was now limping.

“Your leg!”

“I know! Keep going!”

“No—!”

We screamed as the bear roared once more, barreling its way through the broken fence. I grasped Sartor’s tunic, struggling to pull him along. The fence meant we were close to town, we just had to keep going!

“Come on!” I shouted.

“Just go!”

A flash of lavender painted itself across my vision. A familiar and fierce hissing followed as I watched Axtapor collide against the bear’s body. I shrieked, both out of shock and worry, as the creature shook off the blow and ran toward Axtapor. He whirled around, sidestepping the creature, and struck it decisively with his tail. It bellowed painfully as Axtapor faced it once more.

“Stand clear!” A voice called out from behind us, accompanied by the galloping of angry hooves.

I whipped around, catching the surprised and awe-stricken look on Sartor’s face before laying eyes on the heroic-looking Ser Achart. She was seated astride on her dappled mare, dressed in riding pants and a loose tunic, an arrow-knocked bow resting against her cheek. Sartor pulled me out of the way, landing us both in the grass. I braced myself against his arms, trembling as the bear reared up on its hind legs. It was nearly a foot taller than Axtapor.

“Take the bloody shot, Achart!” Axtapor called out.

He and the bear collided. Axtapor hissed, the comb on the back of his head, neck, and spine raised threateningly as his tail whipped violently behind him. The bear roared, beating him over the head, neck, and chest with its massive paws. Pained grunts flew from Axtapor’s throat as his muscles knotted angrily beneath his scales. He struggled to steady himself beneath its blows.

“Take the damn shot!” He commanded. This time a high-pitched cry escaped him as the bear planted a bite on his shoulder, shaking its head to tear his flesh.

“Axtapor!” I screamed.

With some summoned strength, he gripped the bear’s fur, lifted his feet off the ground, and sliced into its belly with his claws. The bear released him as it cried out—the two stumbled back, reeling from the exchanged violence. Axtapor stiffened his tail against the ground to hold himself upright as he struggled to catch his breath. Ser Achart rode in an arc behind Axtapor and fired two quick shots at the creature. But they did not more than enrage it.

It charged forth once more, rising as before, but this time Axtapor did not grapple with it. He launched himself at the beast, clamping his jaw shut around its neck and burying his claws into its shoulders and chest. It wailed loudly, struggling to separate itself from Axtapor. My eyes darted to Ser Achart just as the bowstring’s twang cut through the chaos. Both the creature and Axtapor hit the ground with a dull thud.

“No!” I wrestled myself free of Sartor’s grasp and ran toward the heap where they both lay.

“Mari, wait! It’s not safe!” Sartor warned.

The bear’s body began to twitch, stopping me in my tracks—a loud growling, the knocking of another arrow, and then a triumphant scream. Axtapor threw the bear’s corpse off of him, announcing his victory over the beast with violent coughing. He sat up and spit out some gruesome mix of flesh and fur, wiping his gore-stricken mouth with his forearm. I’d never felt more relieved, despite how covered in blood he was. I was just glad to see him alive. I glanced at the bear, spotting the final arrow buried deep in its eye. The blood drained from my legs, and I dropped down to the ground.

“What were you two thinking?” Ser Achart scolded as her boots hit the grass.

She was standing just beside her mare, arms crossed with a frown on her face. The horse, no worse for wear or nerves, had already started munching on the grass at its feet.

“We— we were collecting mushrooms…” I admitted like a caught child.

“At sun up? Told ye’s nay to venture out at this hour.” Axtapor chided, still panting from the ordeal as he found his feet.

“The patch is just a mile from camp. We were about to come back.” Sartor retorted as he rubbed his injured leg.

“These woods are dangerous. You should have taken an escort.” Ser Achart continued.

“We were just foraging.”

“Sartor.” I hissed and shook my head at him, hoping he’d understand that we were in serious trouble.

“No at sun up, ye daft cunt!” Axtapor yelled, “Ye nay even know these woods proper! If’n we had no turned up as so ye’s both would have been dead!”

Ser Achart flicked her eyes at Axtapor but didn’t seem to disapprove of his choice of words or the volume at which he expressed them. Sartor looked like he was already trying to nurse his ego back to health, so I doubted he’d have more to say.

“We’ll be more careful next time,” I replied, fighting away tears as I observed the bite mark on Axtapor’s shoulder.

“There will no be a next time,” Axtapor replied at a lower volume, clearly doing his best to avoid frightening me. He bundled a kerchief to his wound, grimacing as he put pressure on it.

“It was an accident…” I pleaded softly.

“You will take Ser Fonsa with you next time.” Ser Achart said, eyeing Axtapor with a nearly imperceptible scowl as she put a cape around my shoulders, “Let’s go.”

“Get the bear.” Axtapor barked at Sartor.

“My leg is injured.” He replied with a sneer as he got on his feet with some effort, “Come on, Mari.”

“Sartor, he’s hurt,” I said.

“Why can’t we just leave it here?”

“Creature as so nay needed to perish! Least we can do been to honor it by usin’ it whole. Now do as ye been told and gather it to ye!”

Sartor tossed an incredulous look at Ser Achart, who was waiting patiently on horseback. Her quick absolution from the conversation was surprising, even though I supposed it was in her nature to do something like that.

“I’ll help—”

“Nay. Let him handle it. Go on.” Axtapor gestured toward the camp with his chin.

I chewed my lip and did as he asked, listening as Sartor struggled but eventually heaved the bear across his shoulders.

The camp ate from the creature for several days, its fat was rendered, and the pelt was made into a fine coat for me. Less as a gift and more as a reminder not to wander off again. So that was the last time Sartor and I foraged together unsupervised…that they knew of.

#my writing #writing community #writeblr #aasoaf #axtapor #mariel #magdalene #sartor #cw: animal death #cw: language #cw: mild gore #cw: violence

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gunchtastic-christmas · 8 months

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ISAACTOBER DAY 3

Corpse

Hugs <3

#cw: mild gore #tboi fanart #isaactober

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cactiired · 2 years

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Mordra, a changeling oracle commissioned by @/diceofwinterwilde on instagram

#pathfinder #dungeons and dragons #fantasy art #commission #cactiired commissions #my art tag?#cw: mild gore

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psuedox · 1 year

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Who's crying, now on my shoulder?

#len'en #len'en project #art #kurohebi #tsubakura enraku #cyborg!kurohebi #cw: mild gore

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dovahcourts · 2 years

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Peter could only look back in horror seeing Andre, whose face and body almost decayed and eyes pale and almost lifeless, his expression soon softened. He glanced back at the mirror with a sad look. "What's wrong, Qeet?" Andre asks, it wasn’t weird for Peter to act like this. He's always been like that sometimes.

"I look like Frankenstein's monster," he pouts as his fingers lightly ran across the staples, they felt like speed-bumps for his fingers.

Andre laughs a bit, holding a hand over his mouth. "I guess you could say that."

---

[IMG ID: a doodle of Andre Strickland and Pete Walken. They are both looking at the mirror, facing the viewer. Peter has his hand on his neck that has staples on it. Andre has faces major deterioration, causing left eye to not have eyelid, his hand covers his mouth as he looks at Pete. There are two sticky notes that are blurred out. end ID]

Snippet and art for an upcoming fic before I work on requests!

Andre has no lips so most words that have p, v, m, b, f will sound off.

This is for my Sewer Gators revived AU

#Doodles #Fanart #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 7: Biohazard #Peter Walken #Andre Strickland #CW: mild gore #ask To tag #Sewer Gators Revived AU #Pete Walken #Andre Stickland #Art

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shortformtheatreblog · 25 days

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Untitled Atomic Shelter Sketch

(A man, CHARLES, sits asleep on a folding chair. Across from him is another with a table separating the two. There are a few water jugs with varying degrees of fullness scattered across the surface of the table and some empty cans of food on the floor. He’s been here a long time. A single spotlight illuminates the small set. The lighting is sterile, fluorescent. CHARLES wears a white button-down, the top button open, the fabric rumpled. He stirs awake and walks over to a calendar, marking October 23rd, 1962. This date troubles him. From the surface above enters KETTE, his wife. She wears an apron over her best Sunday dress.)

CHARLES:

Good morning, dear.

KETTE:

It’s 10; hardly morning.

CHARLES:

(Frustrated) Forgive me for not seeing the sun in this bunker.

KETTE:

(Turns to him) You’re awfully snappy today. What’s got you down?

CHARLES:

Oh, it’s just… we’ve been trapped in this bunker for a whole week now. And—(gestures to the radio)—nothing. One would think the president would have something to say.

KETTE:

Well, we can leave, just not for too long. Speaking of, I just cannot find my Excedrin. I’ve had this dreadful headache for days.

CHARLES:

That’s strange. Why, I remember going to the general store just the day before. But, with the state of the world right now…

KETTE:

You don’t suppose it’s been stolen?

CHARLES:

Perhaps. In any case, I’ll have to return when it opens back up.

KETTE:

That may be a while. (beat) You don’t think we should have waited longer before going out?

CHARLES:

That’s nonsense. After 6 hours, the radiation should have cleared out. That’s what the booklet said. And it was quite a windy day.

KETTE:

I suppose you’re right.

(A beat. They sit down. CHARLES begins looking around the bunker. Nothing. He sighs.)

KETTE:

What is it, dear?

CHARLES:

We’re out of food. (He rises) I’ll go up to the surface.

(And he does just that. KETTE grabs a water jug and takes a sip. She sees something under the table and grabs it. It’s a small yellow booklet, Fallout Protection: What To Know And Do About Nuclear Attack. She looks it over until she coughs into her handkerchief. She holds it up, with a fresh new blood stain to accompany the others already there. CHARLES enters with a few cans, clearly in a bad mood.)

CHARLES:

Well, we’re nearly reaching the end of our rations, here.

KETTE:

I wonder why. We stocked up so much.

CHARLES:

(Setting the cans on the tables) Well, I’m sure it has nothing to do with how many you’ve been eating.

KETTE:

Come again?

CHARLES:

(Frustrated) You’re eating all of our rations. We’ll starve here if we’re not shot by some wasteland bandit. And it is a wasteland out there.

KETTE:

Listen, I know you’re in a bad mood, but I’ve been eating just as much as you, and–

CHARLES:

And what? Do you have food?

(A beat. KETTE looks at CHARLES, shocked. CHARLES turns back and begins eating a can of food. KETTE decides not to have any. She instead turns her attention back to the booklet. She opens it and flips through a few pages. CHARLES turns to her.)

CHARLES:

What are you doing with that thing?

KETTE:

Oh, nothing, just curious.

CHARLES:

Give that to me. The bombs already dropped, nothing you can do to prepare.

KETTE:

…No.

CHARLES:

(A beat) Excuse me?

KETTE:

No. I wish to keep it. I have reason to believe that I got radiation poisoning.

CHARLES:

I just explained to you why that’s impossible.

KETTE:

This book says that both my headache and my coughing up blood are symptoms. And I’m going to test that “6 hours” idea of yours.

CHARLES:

Give that to me–!

(CHARLES and KETTE struggle over the book. He accidentally grabs her hair and tugs a whole clump out. They stare at each other, shocked, for a few seconds. Then, KETTE storms out of the bunker, book in hand. After a few seconds, CHARLES follows her, cans of food in hand. They emerge on the other side of the stage in the remnants of their house. It’s so much worse than we’d thought. CHARLES runs after KETTE in the wreckage.)

KETTE:

That’s a symptom too, you know. Loss of hair.

CHARLES:

Stop being hysterical! You’re going through shock. And when did you get this attitude?

KETTE:

When I learned I’m dying, Charles. (She opens the booklet)

CHARLES:

Kette, what are you doing?

KETTE:

Here: “In the event of a nuclear attack, be prepared to live in a shelter as long as two weeks, coming out for short trips only if necessary.” And here–! “Fallout would be most dangerous in the first two days after an attack, and even if you were inside a shelter you probably would have absorbed some radiation … So, never expose yourself unnecessarily to radiation.”

(CHARLES’ face falls. The effort causes KETTE to cough blood up all over her dress. Her face goes pale and she tips over, sprawling on the remnants of the kitchen tile.)

KETTE (CONT’D):

(Faintly) I told you so…

(CHARLES stares at his wife: weak, covered in her own blood, pale, unconscious. “How could I have been so careless?” He grabs her ashen arm to drag her back to the bunker. At a noise offstage, he looks up. His mouth drops and he puts his arms in the air in surrender before being shot and falling next to his wife. On runs A WASTELAND BANDIT. They’re dressed in all black with a gas mask over their face. They grab CHARLES’ cans of food and some other materials from the cupboards before running off. Blackout. End of sketch.)

#nuclear war #speculative fiction #short story #theatre #theater #short play #nuclear bunker #cuban missile crisis #cw: mild gore

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rabbithub · 4 months

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