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hopepetal · 1 year

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

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

Masterlist

@applestruda @stiffyck

Magic is a fickle thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh boy. They were both going to die.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And break free it did.

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

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

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

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

But so did you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slowly but surely, they began the long journey home.

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itty-bitty-sunshine · 8 months

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

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

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

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

They do not remember

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

They remember kneeling, the agreement made with the king

They remember tests, and them stopping with lack of results

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

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

That does not mean they never had a family, though

Morbid details under cut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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achenetype · 3 months

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What would happend if Raven reader never left the nest?👁️ Love ur writing

THIS SPARKED SOMETHING IN ME OH MG GOD

MDNI; implied sex, hand wavey consent, abuse, raven-typical cult behavior and stockholm syndrome, riko is his own warning, injury/violence

listening to: sea, swallow me by cocteau twins

you can’t leave the nest, for a multitude of reasons. some of the other ravens still see their families; they go home for a weekend or for spring break every once in a while. they cite living close to the university, their parents being concerned or overprotective.

your family lives thousands of miles away and they hate you, so you stay at the nest. winter break, spring, summer. you know how edgar allan university looks baked in heat, drenched in rain, blanketed in snow.

riko moriyama and kevin day become your lifeline. he never leaves either. you spend more time together with them than you do with any of the other ravens, running perfect laps on castle evermore’s perfect court until all three of you are out of breath. you suck sparkling air into your lungs and laugh on the way back to your dorm, riko’s arms around your and kevin’s shoulders. perfect, perfect, perfect.

riko becomes captain and that perfection turns icelike and cold. he pushes everyone to their limits, especially himself. you and kevin push back. most of the other ravens are too scared to, but the three of you are perfect perfect perfect, the three of you are brilliant and nothing can stop you.

nothing can stop you until riko shatters kevin’s hand and you spend hours picking up the pieces.

nothing can stop you until riko shatters at the same time as your arm, when he does the same thing to you.

you spend weeks in recovery. riko sits at your bedside, murmuring apologies. murmuring we had to make it look believable, murmuring im so sorry.

your arm heals. clean break. clean hole where kevin used to be. clean, perfect number one, riko moriyama.

you still love him, which you’re not sure is a fact or a weapon. he is too tangled in you to separate what you are from what he is, and who hasn’t been cruel, in the nest? who hasn’t broken someone else to get ahead?

you have. riko has. this makes you a perfect match.

neil josten, newly rechristened nathaniel wesninski and number four, leaves as soon as he appears. some part of you resents him for it but a bigger part is, selfishly, grateful for riko’s attention to be back on you. you want your place by his side back—you want your life back.

you can’t leave the nest even when riko beats jean within an inch of his life. you can’t leave when that girl from the foxes appears and whisks him away, when riko breaks a window and punches a hole in the wall and screams about how his perfect court is falling apart.

everything is falling apart, you want to tell him. everything is falling apart and we can’t do a damn thing about it.

(instead you kiss his knuckles and help clean the glass off of the floor. instead you murmur distractions: how good his form was today, how pretty he looks with blood in his teeth, how you want him to shove you up against the court wall and take whatever he wants. you’d give it to him anyways. you’ve given it before, given everything else.)

(you fall asleep that night feeling hollow. riko’s arms around you and his head on your chest are no comfort. you want to hate yourself in a new, sick way, something that sways in your stomach and makes you want to puke or slash your wrists open like one of the freshman backliners did last week.)

(you want to hate yourself, but you can’t.)

and you can’t leave, either.

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ayyy-imma-ninja · 1 year

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The brazin bull I think it's called it's a copper bull that you put someone inside and set a fire under it and when they scream it just sounds like a bull

That's a good one. But the boys like to control how much damage they inflict on the targets.

@moonlit-dreamers and I discussed this question, and we decided that the perfect medieval torture device they'd use would be The Rack. The one that stretches out the body.

They would even make a sick game out of it.

warning: graphic depictions of the torture game below the card-

They would take turns, and slowly turn the wheel to stretch out the target's body a certain number of times based on a dice roll. This is to see who can go the furthest without ripping or dislocating a limb. Whoever dislocates a limb is the one who has to clean up the mess, and the other gets to kill the target. With each turn the target is slowly being stretched and pulled apart. Sun and Moon will ensure that they stay alive just long enough for them to have their fun.

Arguments may or may not ensue over who wins, possible accusations of cheating. Sibling banter at its finest, all while the target is just in agony.

#answered ask #dca!serial killer au #serial killer duo #serial killer sun #serial killer moon #SK!Sun #SK!Moon #SK!boys #medieval torture #cw mention of torture #cw bodily harm #graphic depictions of violence #they are a little unhinged #The Rack #thank you to moonlit for helping me answer this

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cavalrysystem · 3 months

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How Janus got his scars.

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

(Fic under the cut)

The argument had started off so small.

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

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

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

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

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

Virgil grabbed Janus by the neck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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jrwi-fic-recs · 3 months

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

by Solkatter

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

Word Count: 8,440

Status: Not Complete (1/2)

Submitted by @soupiguess

Please always remember to read the tags!

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

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lostcauseinc · 26 days

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Heyy it’s the silly lagomorph again! :3

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

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

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

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

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

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

So that’s the thing! Hope you enjoyed!

-Your Dearest 🐇

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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iliketowatchmyblobrossuffer · 6 months

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Fuck it I’m posting my zal Whump. Zal got their brain Invaided by a party member who has the ability to see their memories, this memory was blocked before this point. It’s from 2nd person because of the nature of retrieving the memory.

Cw!

Blood, torture, child abuse, loss of a limb, medical torture. Forced amputation graphic depictions of violence, manipulation. mind the cws

You open your eyes and the world is painted in swatches of color. It reminds you of the impressionist style of various artists you’ve met over the years . You Try to look around but you soon realize your tied to the chair. You yell. Scream even. But your voice is scratchy and ash still burns your throat. Somewhere across the room a door opens. rats rush around your feet. You know this place you spent hours and hours here experimenting trying to impress…

Him.

You can’t make out his features. He’s like a blob of paint in the shape of a person. You scream and beg and he just sighs “such a disappointment… if you hadn’t run away…” there is a metallic click and suddenly your laying down. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to do this zal” he says. all you can muster is a sob in response. As he leans over you studying your arm you see it. Hanging there from his neck are two horns you recognize. Those are Jax’s horns. he…

He..

You feel sick.

Finally the man leans close enough for the paint to form a face you know this man

That is your father.

He doesn’t say anything as the knife digs into your shoulder he doesn’t even blink when you scream and scream until you can’t anymore blood soaking into your feathers.

“You know… I Found the Arm” he says finally , discarding the blood covered gloves reaching for another pair. “And I thought, I’d never find a subject to test it on” there’s a note of excitement in his voice “ but…then… well i found you” he looks at you. His voice fades again you can’t make out anything else as blood loss causes the darkness to wrap around your brain. The last thing you hear is the sound of your own bones being sawed away

#cw: gore #gore #cw torture #cw medical torture #there isn’t any sedation and that’s a problem.#cw child abuse.#child abuse #torture #medical torture #Whump #medical Whump #Whump for science #this period in Zals life actually lasted a few months #so if you have science/medical Whump ideas shoot me an ask I might use them haha #abusive father #graphic depictions of violence #I’ll answer any questions about zal here btw the person I don’t wanna spoil is blocked from this blog so dw #manipulative Whump cw

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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 years

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Drown

Danny knows what his parents are. He’s seen things people don’t tend to see. He’s grown up around the arcane and unrealistic.

Doubting it’s reality was never something he did. Not the way his sister always tried to.

But then, Jazz had spent her early years in house, going to school and having friends, ignorant as the people they passed by. All Danny remembered was traveling.

Danny’s earliest memories were of the RV, of his parents doing government work.

That’s why Danny knew without a doubt, monsters were real. Every kind was strange and spectacular; Danny wouldn’t have minded the idea joining his parents professionally if what they did didn’t always end up so violent.

He thought of a writhing black thing, a cat with too many tongues and too many teeth, caught in a glowing green net.

He thought of seals strung up like butchers meat, skin pulling in places like a slow-falling coat.

He thought of a hydra’s fallen heads twitching, a harpoon thrust through their body.

Danny’s parents were hunters, and they hunted monsters.

This wasn’t something Danny was too-strongly opinionated about.

Sure, he didn’t like the way people would look at his parents like they were insane sometimes, and he always tried to avoid staying near the RV when things got messy. But, he got to see a lot of places. And he didn’t really feel like he was missing out on much, being homeschooled.

Really Danny’s life is good. Everything is fine.

Or at least, it was.

It was, before his parents took a boat out on sea, the shore still relatively close.

It was, before his parent caught some massive scaled thing that looked a little to human for him to be comfortable with, and he couldn’t go far as it’s screeches grew quiet, because they were on a boat.

It was, until Danny gone to the railing and focused on the waves, knowing from experience he wouldn’t throw up if rode out his nausea.

And then all of a sudden it wasn’t, because the boat was rocking, and Danny had tipped over the edge, and something much bigger than whatever his parents had caught was dragging him down, down, down.

If he didn’t panic, he might have lasted longer, but he thrashed and struggled and tried to swim up.

It was no use.

And the water filled his lungs. And the pressure filled his ears. And his throat burned as he tried to scream between each intake of water.

His eyes stung, both from the water and unshed tears, as his vision darkened.

He got one good look at the one that had pulled him down to this fate. A woman, he thought, with a salmon hide and green skin, and matted white hair.

“A child for a child.” She might have said, voice like venom.

Then everything went dark.

oOo

Danny dreamt.

He Dreamt of magic and moonlight making him new.

He dreamt of waking up, his eyes too round, taking in a world of darkness like it was made from light.

He dreamt of feeling every wave and fish around him through the twitch of whiskers.

And in that dream, he swims with flippers and tail, contorting through waters until he remembers the blinding shore. All blurry shapes and sand and sharp smells as he drags himself up.

And then he wakes up.

oOo

Danny will wake up and draw a too-far line of what were and weren’t dreams.

He will wake up and see himself shivering on the sands of a shore, his parents boat not too far in the distance, and he will think washed up on the beach after falling off the boat.

He will let himself think it was only an accident and will try to keep tears from his eyes as he thinks of drowning.

He will hug his coat comfort, only to realize he hadn’t been wearing one.

He throw the garment away from himself reflexively for its too-close resemblance to the seal skins his parents seemed so eager to destroy.

He will struggle to his feet, and try to stop turning back to see if the coat is still there, unharmed and safe.

He will receive help calling his parents back to shore, will face comfort and relief that soothes him.

He will think of how much more soothing the coat would be.

He will be wrapped up in the RV and be safe and tended to, inexplicably not sick, but he will still feel like there are a thousand grains of sand pricking his skin.

He will listen Jazz argue with their parents, unable to mediate or reassure, because all he can think of will be soft furs on a beach and a dream that felt too real.

He will wait until the dead of night, the day before they’re set to leave, and he will return to the beach.

He will dig for hours until he finds his coat.

He will feel hands running down his own skin as he gently dusts its furs clean.

He will see the spotted pattern ripple underneath his fingertips.

He will wear it and look to the sea and consider.

He will decide.

He will wrench himself away, and hide the coat so deep in his mess of clothes it’s suffocating, and try to never think of what happened to every seal his parents caught, to every cloak his parents found.

He will try not to remember dying.

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jasperjazzie · 8 months

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Drawlloween Day 25: Horned

cw: mild blood/gore, graphic description under the image

made art for my friend's oc ozul, friend doesn't have tumblr unfortunately

sometimes deer get into fights and the winner ends up tearing off the loser's head, and the head just gets stuck to their antlers, and this peryton boy does the same thing, and he is not happy about it.

he's traumatized but i love him

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hpmort · 1 year

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In Defense of The Glass Princess

I didn’t properly appreciate the extent of “a million is a statistic” before today

When I was a little kid I watched a lot of nature documentaries

Because it was the new noughts and on-demand sucked

(I didn’t think so at the time

TiVo was a separate service that had just been invented

The ability to watch something that wasn’t live

That the cable box didn’t have to have watched live

That you didn’t have to go out and buy

On a disc or in a box

Was new and exciting)

A series of rectangles within rectangles

Boxes folding in

Silvery blue and blueish grey

In the upper right hand corner

A video on-loop played

A category

A subcategory

A channel

A show

An episode

I was a child with a clear sense of

RIGHT

and

WRONG

Which, of course

Was not necessarily the most reasonably

The boxes I limited myself to were

Kids

(Where I mostly play favorites

Not for moral reasons

Just brand loyalty)

Premium Channels

(Subcategory

Kids/Family)

and

Documentaries

(Or something like that

It was over a decade ago and I was probably younger than six)