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rowiewritesstuff · 1 year

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TFP Yandere Optimus Prime - The Soft Yandere

Ayo, not too good at writing so I made this blog to try and get a little better. :)

If you have suggestions, I'm down- but not looking for a huge criticism. Thanks! <3

Optimus probably fell in love with you because you were kind and had a motherly aura about you. You took care of the kids- helping them with their homework, making sure they were well fed, and caring for their inevitable injuries they’ll get from the Decepticons.

You were a gentle soul, guiding the kids to do the right thing and teaching them all they would need to know for the future. Any time anyone (bot or human) had a question, no matter how “dumb” they thought it, you would answer with a kind smile gracing your face.

Optimus always thought that you were beautiful from the moment he laid eyes on you- both inside and out. At first, he was content to just have talks with you about human culture. What did this book mean? What are some good books to read?

Soon, as you had given him knowledge, you wanted some in return. You craved so badly to know of Cybertron. Optimus became your teacher just as you became his.

You both would often go on long drives to beautiful places (that were of course unpopulated) such as rivers, mountains, waterfalls, or forests. The two of you would talk all night about Earth or Cybertron’s histories and culture. Sometimes you both would stay out so late, and you would fall asleep on Optimus’ chest or in his cab. Every time he would so gently take you back to base, making sure to not jostle you. When there, he would take you to his berthroom where he had a human-sized bed to let you sleep on.

Obsession didn’t come until later when you got captured Megatron. Optimus had been careless- he took his eyes off of you when scouting for energon, and you had wandered off to look at a pretty flower. Optimus was so focused on the energon tracker that he hadn’t noticed you were gone until he heard a loud scream coming from behind him.

He quickly ran through the trees, snapping branches as he went when he saw it: Megatron had his claws wrapped around your much smaller frame, a wicked grin across his faceplate. Optimus looked to you for any injuries, but he could only see the terror on your face. You were trying so hard to look calm, he could tell- but because he knows you so well it was obvious you were just barely holding back tears.

“Release her, Megatron!” He roared out.

“Hm, you seem fond of the human, don’t you, Optimus? Then again, you’ve liked fragile things since you were a mere archivist.” Megatron opened his hand slightly, with you sitting in his palm. He looked down at you with a sick grin, “It would be so easy to crush you, wouldn’t you agree little one? Then again, Optimus really seems to value you- perhaps I’ll keep you as a pet.”

You shook like a leaf at his words. The warlord intended to keep you as a pet? You immediately looked to Optimus, eyes pleading with him to save you.

Optimus could feel the energon in his veins pumping loudly in his audio receptors. In his barely contained rage he managed to get out a few words: “What do you want, Megatron?”

No matter how hard Optimus tried to hide it, Megatron saw right through him. After all, they used to be friends- and Optimus had hardly changed since then. Megatron could see the rage behind the Prime’s eyes.

Within moments, Megatron transformed around you. He immediately took off into the skies, leaving Optimus in the dust.

Optimus yelled in rage as his human was taken away from him.

For two solid months, the ancient bot refused to recharge as he searched and searched for you. He checked every signal, every transmission he could just to get even a bit of a clue as to where Megatron was. To where you were.

Optimus was angry. Angry at Megatron, and angry at himself. He blames himself for your capture. If he had just kept you at base, this would have never happened. He should have never even left your side.

Every single day he imagined what he would do to Megatron when he got his hands on him. He would end the war right then and there- and anyone to dare get in his way would join Megatron in the Allspark.

Eventually, they found a transmission from an energon mine. Some Vehicon must have forgotten to encrypt their signal- or it was a trap. Either way, they found from the transmission that the Nemesis would be docking there.

Optimus called all of the Autobots into the main hangar, and then they went through the groundbridge. Optimus was running through the Vehicons like no tomorrow to get to the Nemesis.

Soon, he found you sleeping in the medbay. Bruises covered your body and your hair was unkempt. He felt anger at your state and immediately took you back to where the groundbridge opened, and demanded one from Ratchet.

“Arcee, take them to get medical attention right away.” Optimus gently handed you to the blue bot.

“Optimus, aren’t you coming?”

Optimus began his walk to the Nemesis, “No, Arcee. Return to base, I will be back shortly.”

Hours later, Optimus came back to the base. Dried energon coated his hands- some of it a deep purple. Optimus’ optics were slightly dim as he walked into the base.

Ratchet immediately rushed to him, “Optimus, are you hurt?”

“No, I am unharmed. How are they?” Optimus’ eyes glanced over to you. You looked much better than when he had seen you. Your hair was wet from being cleaned, and your cuts were bandaged up.

“They will live. They’re resilient, they will be back on their feet in no time, June believes. Though, they will need regular check-ups for the next few months- medical and psychological.”

Optimus didn’t respond to his own friend, instead walking over to where you laid. He gently combed a hand through your hair.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled gently at him. “I knew you’d come for me, Op. Thank you.” Tears welled up in your eyes. He gently wiped them away with his digit.

“I will never allow you to be taken from me again. That, I promise.” While you clung to his hand, you failed to notice the darker tone in his voice- or the energon that coated his hand as he lulled you back into sleep.

#yandere #transformers #transformers prime #optimus prime #megatron #optimus prime x reader #tfp x reader #yandere x reader #yandere optimus prime #tw yandere #yandere optimus prime x reader #gender neutral reader #reader #tw kidnapping #tw mild gore #implied murder #implied torture #implied death #maccaddam

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connectionterminated13 · 2 months

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AU bad ending, Prompt scars. @ggyweek2024

"Don't move and it will be over quickly"

Extra stuff below

This Page is a reference to the don't move page from the silver eyes graphic novel adaptation

I don't really know what happened leading up to this but I imagined that Gregory spun some lie about knowing who GGY really was and that they really needed to go to this one arcade cabinet in the back room.

Also there's probably a goofy long-winded William monolog that we aren't seeing that Tony had to deal with so just imagine that in your head.

BTW sorry if I didn't do this right. Also haha I posted this at like 12:01 AM

#ggy fanweek 2024 #fnaf #fnaf ggy #Tony ggy #tony fnaf #fnaf gregory #implied child death #tw knives #tw eyestrain #tw eye contact #Connectionterminated13 art #No one take mimic #Fuck I just realized I forgot to add his scars bandages on his hands....#Don't murder me #Sorry it's not the best I hope you guys like it anyway

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shaykai · 3 months

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Was thinking about bloody wedding dresses and what an aesthetic those are

And then I realized I’ve got a murdery little guy who could and would steal a wedding dress from a murder victim

#doodle #sketch #oc #Vat’il #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 oc #durge #bg3 durge #the dark urge #tw blood #tw implied murder #tw implied death #tw body parts

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writingforatwistedworld · 1 year

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Otome au-Character introduction: Rollo Flamm

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR GLORIOUS MASQUERADE EVENT, Yandere themes, death, murder, implied stalking, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, violence, family problems

Position:

Judge of the city of flowers

Backstory:

It was no secret that judge Rollo had a rather… radical streak when it came to magic users. Whenever he could hear someone utter a spell, or simply someone voicing that they liked magic did not matter. Although, you did earn a pityfull look from him before being questioned if you knew someone with the ability to wield magic if you were a normal person. No magic. Simply normal.

Judge Rollo despised magic. It took and burned everything away like the destructive force it was. And as such, the young judge saw himself in a position in which he needed to be equally as destructive when it came to cleansing the world of that power. Even if it meant lying to himself. Although less lying, more like burying a part of him deep below where even the ghosts of the dead could not reach. Rollo was aware that he was also someone “impure”, someone tainted by magic.

Although sometimes he remembered a small boy, equally as stained and yet also so full of light.

If only the light hadn’t gotten burned to ashes.

How did he become Self-aware?

The process of noticing that this world was controlled by a higher power on a whim was something he did not start on his own. Quite the contrary. One day when Rollo was once more looking over papers, trying to get some sort of order into the sea of pure chaos on his desk, a place always seemingly to be full with these, he did notice something odd though.

Hadn’t he seen this case before? But it wasn’t noted down in the records. Then why was he so certain the lead investigator had been given a large sum of money to hide details, leading to an innocent person being locked away?

And like this it began. At first Rollo thought that it was his “impurity” which told him these things. Much later though he did notice that this was not the case. A strange individual set foot into his beautifull city, bringing with them the wind of foregin lands. Rollo heard a voice saying something along the lines of finally getting the DLC, whatever that was, even though the stranger did not talk.

As such his descend into the depths of the truth of this world started but if he was honest, he didn’t mind. He did not mind as he flung a spell at someone, making them breathe their last breath all so they wouldn’t get between him figuring out who, no what kind of enigma, you were. He did not mind to do all of that as long as he could follow that light at the end of the tunnel, you.

To not even meant to be part of your path throuh this world and yet to foster such feelings, wouldn’t it be only fair for him to act upon them?

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hey-imma-fangirl · 3 months

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Sorry these drawing look bad, I’m really sick rn

But since I’ve been sick I’ve been watching movies and I came across the Emperor’s New Groove and I forgot just how amazing the movie is. I love it, I definitely recommend it if you haven’t seen it yet :3

Anyways, I got bored and I thought Yzma’s and Kronk’s personalities were somewhat similar to my Gabriel and Micheal soooooo—

I’m so sorry to the people who have never seen this movie and don’t get my references 😅

*Demon!Gabriel is not cannon to my au, they’re just a silly gag that @tomasitaoficial and I created on an Aggie because we were bored (they came up with the design so credit goes to them for it ^^)*

#cuphead au #welcome back to the casino au #archangel michael #archangel gabriel #the emperors new groove #<< i love this movie sm #i definitely recommend it #I’m sick so don’t judge the quality of my drawings XD #yes this implies that luci is kuzco in this au lmao #idk who would be pacha in this au tho lol #my art #my designs #white backround #tw white background #tw bright colors #tw mention of murder #tw mention of death

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propertyofwhitney67 · 5 months

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More in depth of my dark Whitney imagine

Dark Content : a dead body, death, implied murder,

Fair warning, I don’t usually write in 3rd pov (if you could even call this that.) so it might be a rough read. Also, I cried while writing this.

𝘱𝘵2

Whitney expected his slut to be waiting for him at the bus station when he got back, but they were nowhere to be found. He waited for a while but went home, tired of waiting for a stupid slut.

By the next day and they still hadn’t sought him out, he goes looking. He checked the orphanage first, finding their room taken by another orphan. He interrogated said orphan, who cried and directed him to Robin. Robin breaks down in tears, explaining they had been gone almost a year now.

Whitney didn’t want to believe it. ‘Maybe they just left town’, he kept telling himself as he sought out Kylar.

He found Kylar at his usual spot in the park, staring at his phone and looking at pictures of PC. “What the fuck did you do with them?”

Kylar just shakes his head and begins to cry, “I-I…I don’t know where they are.” He choked on a sob, “I looked everywhere, the last place I saw them was going into the brothel and I haven’t seen them since.” He fully breaks down into sobs.

Whitney sits beside him and puts his face in his hands, crying silently. If this freak didn’t have them or know where they were, things must be bad. They sit like that for a while before Whitney decides to leave. He fully breaks down once he gets home, crying into a stuffed animal PC got for him once.

The next day he wanderers, checking all the spots he knew they frequented. He ends up at the pub, wanting to drink away his sorrows, when Mickey approaches him. “You’re looking for PC, right? I knew them, we did work for each other.” Whitney grabs him by the collar and begins to threaten him, but Mickey interrupts. “Not like that. I know someone who can help find them.”

Mickey leads Whitney to Landry, who saddens at the mention of PC. “I’ve heard some things…things I don’t want to believe.” he takes a few moments, “I know someone who might be able to find them, it will cost you though.” Whitney tries to ask what they know, but they both refuse to answer.

Landry knows just about every secret in this town, and Mickey knows how to find things. Landry heard through the grapevine about what happened, and from some whispers at the bar. He asked Mickey if they could find anything, he does. It’s not good. Pictures and videos…

It costs him a pretty penny but he gets the information he wants, or at least a location. He finds himself in the moor and eventually at a large tree. He’s confused and looks around, trying to find any clue that PC was there or had been there.

He finds one of their shoes, the ones they always wore. Those stupid cheap tennis shoes that he always made fun of. He gets a sinking feeling and starts to frantically dig with his hands under the tree. He stops when he finds a hand, a hand wearing the rings they always wore. The ring he got them before he left. He keeps digging and eventually uncovers their body.

He wants to throw up, he wants to cry, and he wants to yell. It’s unfair! He was supposed to come back and get them out of this town. He was too late.

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

#tw death #tw implied murder #dark content #dol #degrees of lewdity #dol whitney #whitney the bully #whitney dol #dol pc #dol fanfic #dark whitney #my writing

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lighthouseas · 6 months

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stealing past the windows of the blissfully dead

Sure, Mike’s agnostic even though his parents want him to be a Catholic—but he does think, sometimes, that if Heaven really exists—Will might be a manifestation of it. Or a glimpse into it. The point is, he knows Will by heart at this point. Inside and out. It’s a privilege only Mike gets to have. And so, the voice echoes in his head, louder this time: He should’ve noticed the signs earlier on.

fall. 1988. vecna has been defeated, and all should be well. except that it's not.

(in which mike wheeler takes the matters of will byers into his own hands.)

written for @bylerween2023

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fluffyfangirl · 6 months

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@bylerween2023 Day 2 - Slashers, Gore & Body Horror (Mind the tags please before opening!)

Inspired by @light-lanterne's ficlet "Anthropophagy" I changed the hammer out for the axe tho, I'm still sorry for that Angel ;-;

#bylerween2023 #bylerween #Byler #Day 2 #Slashers Gore and Body Horror #Mike Wheeler #Will Byers #not spoilering the third person just lying there #dark byler au #dark byler agenda #tw murder #tw blood #tw death #tw implied death #tw cannibalism #tw implied cannibalism #as you don't see a whole lot #FluffyFangirlArt

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 2 months

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When a Tomb Becomes a Womb (Part 1: Rings)

Well, it’s finally happened: I wrote a story for a movie rather than YouTube Egos. (Not that this is gonna become a regular thing, mind you. Lisa Frankenstein just so happened to check all the right boxes for my hyperfixation and brainrot.)

(Disclaimer: While I agree that Creature doesn’t really need an actual name to be a great character, I still decided to give him a headcanon name—which is Callum, since I think it would fit him— just because this entire story is from his perspective. Mentioning his "true," pre-death name just seems logical. Neither of the characters in this story belongs to me. Lisa Swallows and The Creature are the property of Zelda Williams and Diablo Cody.)

(Trigger Warnings: implied murder/death, implied violence, gore/blood, mentions of electrocution and fire, scars, body horror, dismemberment. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

The soil was loose and soft. It yielded to the shovel’s rusty spade quite easily.

Though many emotions were thrumming through Callum’s skull at the moment, surprise wasn’t one of them.

While dark clouds had clogged up the night sky, hiding the stars and moon and bloating with rain that would fall sooner or later, the current season was warm, and so the ground wasn’t too firm.

This plot had only been filled hours ago. This grave was fresh; infinitely fresher than his had been.

By now, Callum estimated that it’d taken at least half a day for him to crawl up through the ground and breach the surface like one of the several worms slithering around inside him.

He hadn’t exactly been in the right headspace to consider it at first; back then, all he’d been able to know was light and electricity and shuddering and pain and. . .Lisa’s words.

Lisa’s words.

The same thing that fueled Callum to escape his tomb was now guiding him to free Lisa from hers, all with the same amount of violent tremors and desperation.

It was poetic, honestly.

Perhaps it would’ve been a bit more poetic if he didn’t have to get so filthy in the process.

Oh, well. He could take care of that later. (Besides, the stains on his clothes were nothing compared to the layers of grime and mold and fungus that had been caked all over him on that first, fateful night.)

Right now, unearthing his beloved without getting caught seemed like a much more important thing to focus on.

His grip was vicelike around the wooden handle as he threw one shovelful after another to the side.

Almost there, Callum thought. (If he could speak, he’d be repeating that mantra in a whisper like his life depended on it. Which. . .well, it logically didn’t, but it technically did. The same went for Lisa.) Almost there.

He’d wanted to take her away sooner. He would’ve been perfectly fine with forcing her family to waste money on a casket. Really, what good was a casket if you buried it empty?

But the distinct lack of a corpse would have just caused more problems. As dense as her family seemed to be, they’d still know that the shiny, glowing box (Lisa had called it a. . .tanning bed? If memory served?) wouldn’t have been capable of reducing a person to ashes no matter how dangerous it was.

He knew she wasn’t dead. Not completely; not truly. Yes, the combination of electrical currents and fire may have worked its horrific magic on her body. . .but that magic just hadn’t followed through altogether as it probably should have.

The way the bed had convinced foreign limbs to function as intended mere minutes after Lisa sewed them onto him. . .the way it had rejuvenated his centuries-dead flesh bit by bit. . .

It had some kind of similar effect on Lisa. The vast majority of her had died, but there was still a strong, stubborn ember of something in her that was very much determined to live.

Callum knew that very well. He’d seen proof of it before being forced to flee from the fire.

But Lisa’s family didn’t. As far as they knew, she was gone and never coming back. So, if she just disappeared before they could bury her, then they’d have an excuse to try and track her down. And if that happened, neither she nor her husband would get another chance. . .

Callum ground his jaw, putting even more force behind the shovel.

The hole grew deeper.

The pile of disturbed earth beside it grew bigger.

The dull, scraping tempo of grave-robbery began to sound like hitching gasps and sobs.

Just as the clouds started ominously humming about their plans for the night, the shovel reverberated after finally, finally, finally striking something much more solid than dirt.

Callum tossed the tool aside in favor of getting down on his knees, now using his hands to clear away a blanket of finer, thinner soil.

He hoped Lisa could hear him digging. (Though if that was the case, then the state of her brain could potentially make her think that the sounds were echoing from somewhere farther beneath her. Which would be. . .less than ideal, as Callum didn’t enjoy the idea of scaring her again. )

Even in his anxiety, he subconsciously shook his head. Lisa had taken him in and repaired him even after being initially terrified. Lisa trusted him, loved him; if she didn’t, then he never would have woken up in the first place.

More time passed, and a soft, cold gleam suddenly manifested in the darkness.

Glossy wood.

The coffin’s upper door.

Callum groped at the edge of it, tugging with all his strength.

An odd, warm feeling skittered up his spine and shook through his ribcage.

A low creeeeaaak rattled through the air as the lid was pried open.

. . .And there she was.

___

Callum had always been a fast learner, and yet he still had no idea what to make of his pulse.

It’d been extremely jarring when he’d first awoken. The days that followed, it was irregular. Sometimes he could feel it, sometimes he couldn’t. It was always soft—following more of a murmur than a steady beat—always irregular, barely there at all.

Right now, however, it both sounded and felt very far away. More present than it had been when he’d performed a highly unorthodox beheading on that stain of a man who’d upset Lisa.

Hell, it almost seemed louder and stronger than it had been on the most recent evening he’d spent with Lisa; the one that saw the two of them embracing and reeling and dreaming together. . .

Everything else was a blur as he brought her to her new bed, carrying her like the bride she was. He had to move slowly, carefully, feeling more anxious and unwieldy than ever.

Well, at least until he laid her down, making sure the pillow offered enough support for her neck.

After that, he was much, much more erratic.

He sprinted about the house, tearing almost every other room apart as he searched. It felt like several hours had passed by the time he finally found what he—what his beloved—needed: a white, sterile-looking container. He opened it, just to be certain, then tucked it under one arm and hurried back over to the bedroom.

Every square inch of Lisa’s body was blistered to hell and back, adorned by a network of puffy, angry-looking veins that, had her heart still been beating, would have more or less threatened to burst at any given moment. Red and raw, several sections on her arms, legs, and chest having peeled off to reveal glistening tissue.

Her mane of thick, curly auburn hair had been reduced to a few small, fried patches that clung to the charred flesh of her scalp with a strength similar to bubblegum and well-intentioned vibes. There was a possibility that she’d died with her eyes open, but the awful swelling of the skin around their sockets had sealed them shut.

None of that mattered, of course.

Lisa was still just as beautiful as when Callum had first met her. She always, always would be.

. . .Even so, those injuries had to be dealt with. Despite what Lisa had said before about accepting a person’s flaws, Callum’s instincts told him she wouldn’t appreciate being left to resemble a puppet made of half-raw-half-cooked steaks.

Callum set the medical kit down on the nightstand, ferreting out generous rolls of gauze as he loomed over the side of the bed.

The world finally seemed to slow back down as he got to work.

It didn’t take long for him to find a gentle, precise cadence as he wrapped bandage after bandage after bandage around his beloved’s form. Something in the back of his mind wondered if this was what spiders felt like when they spun strands of silk together to make their webs.

Although Lisa’s skin hadn’t been rendered translucent, the burns in some places went deep enough for Callum to catch a glimpse of her organs. Both of her lungs were blackened, seared, sunken. Her heart was equally misshapen, now boasting a similar appearance to a blob of melted wax, looking like it was seconds away from collapsing in on itself.

But even as all the carnage was swallowed up by more strips of gauze, Callum could still see the heart twitch. The movement only lasted for half a second or so, but there was no doubting that it’d happened. . .

Lisa still had a chance. She would never be truly alive again, but she could still come back.

She couldn’t wake up by herself. . .but she wouldn’t have to.

He’d find a way to help, just as she’d done for him.

Callum blinked for the first time all night, and his hands were suddenly free; he was suddenly sitting at the foot of the new bed.

Lisa was cloaked quite literally from head to toe in clean, snow-white bandages. It was like he'd made the perfect combination of shroud and wedding dress for her to wear.

The thought made a small smile tug at his lips.

Then he shook his head.

He couldn’t relax just yet. There were other things to be taken care of right now. Two other things, to be specific.

Callum got to his feet and crossed the new bedroom to quietly close the door. He ventured down a narrow hallway, peering at an assortment of unfamiliar pictures hanging on the walls around him. Disposing of them would probably be another chore for him later.

His footsteps sounded hollow and heavy as he descended the staircase. (Unlike Lisa’s former home, the floors of this house were all hardwood rather than carpet. True, they wouldn’t muffle noise very well, but it was still quite a lucky coincidence.)

He’d found this house completely by accident, when he’d still been trying to follow Lisa’s path.

Even with the remnants of that lightning bolt sparking in his stagnant blood, even with Lisa’s voice echoing through his resurrected mind, it’d still taken so much time for him to truly wake up. He grimaced at the thought of how long he’d had to crawl around the cemetery before he could stand upright.

(And that wasn’t even mentioning the state his vision had been in. The layers of rancid slime and dirt clinging to his face had made everything around him blurry and distorted. The fact that his eyes were also full of maggots at the time certainly hadn’t helped.)

He’d had to wander the surrounding woods for hours and hours before he could finally walk. The rot in his bones had kept his movement slow and uneven, but a bad limp was still better than collapsing every other moment.

Callum wasn’t sure how the house’s previous owners hadn’t seen or heard him that night. They certainly had a few hours ago, but that wasn’t a factor anymore.

He crept into the living room, where he paced a few slow circles around the fresh corpse lying in the center of all the controlled chaos. The crimson splatters now adorning the floor, the walls, the sofa’s floral print almost seemed to glitter.

Another carcass could be found just a few feet away, sprawled across the wide threshold that led into the dining room. The face was obscured, as blood was still leaking out to add to a large puddle that continued to slowly spread, inch-by-inch.

Callum folded his arms across his chest, drumming the nails of his replacement hand against his cheek. He remembered what Lisa had said when he’d silently begged her to help him find new parts; a contemplative murmur about there being bad people in the world. . .

Her relief and gratitude when he’d bludgeoned that horrible excuse for a mother to death.

Her cathartic happiness when he’d dismembered the scum who’d tried to put his filthy hands on her.

Her tearful joy when she eventually realized why he’d risked so much to take a particularly crucial piece from the ignoramus who’d dared to play with her emotions. . .

It had all been so wonderful to see.

Those victims had all hurt Lisa, and they likely would've hurt others as well. Their deaths wouldn’t be an actual loss to the community.

But this. . .

Lisa definitely wouldn’t have approved of this. Yes, she’d understand why Callum had done what he’d done; after everything they’d been through, of course the two of them needed a quiet place to stay, if only for a while until they found somewhere better. A place that was a fair distance from both the town and the cemetery. A place just like this.

But. . .

A raspy sigh escaped Callum’s lips.

He'd work with more tact in the future.

Once Lisa was awake, things would be better. He’d listen to her input. They would make important decisions together.

Callum’s eyes wandered about, eventually settling on the axe—the same one Lisa had taken from her father’s garage—he’d left propped up against the adjacent wall. It was slathered in gore, to the point that its wooden handle was just as red as the paint on its blade.

He approached to pick it up, letting the weapon’s belly rest on his shoulder. Then he stooped down, using his free hand to take hold of the first corpse’s wrists. More of the floor was painted red as he dragged it into the kitchen. He retraced his steps to collect the second body, coming dangerously close to slipping on the blood as he hefted his victim onto the countertop.

The next hour or so was filled with dull thuds, with splintery pops and cra-A-a-cks, with the drip-drip-drip of thick fluid oozing down the lower cabinets and plopping onto the floor.

The axe was too heavy to be the most precise tool, but it was still efficient. It only took a few good swings to sever limbs from torsos and heads from necks.

Callum couldn’t bury either of these bodies. Not right away, at least. Fortunately, he soon discovered that there were more than enough black trash bags under the sink to work with.

Lisa’s body obviously needed repair, but he wasn’t sure which repairs should come first. (He knew she’d require a new pair of eyes, but he didn’t want to risk forcing her current ones open just yet.) Would it be better to take off her old limbs and put new ones in their place, or to simply slice off layers of skin and attach a new barrier to her burnt flesh?

Wait and see, a voice in his head suggested. Callum nodded to himself; when Lisa was able to communicate again, he’d organize these plans with her. It was only right, after all.

Callum set the axe down by the sink, now focusing on wrapping up the detached pieces of human in tight, layered cocoons that crinkled with every second. Packing all the bundles into the freezer and refrigerator in a way that kept them from sliding right back out was far more aggravating than he would’ve cared to admit, but he managed.

He gave pause, however, when it came to the two remaining pieces.

A pair of forearms, to be specific, with their hands still attached.

One from each corpse.

Something small and metallic glinted around the fourth finger on each of them.

The first ring had a very simple design: just a smooth, golden band.

The second ring, meanwhile, was silver, mounted with a shiny stone.

It wasn’t a diamond by any means. Callum couldn’t tell what kind of gem it was, honestly. But it was gorgeous—it’d been carved into a smooth, perfect orb. It reminded him of an ember at the heart of a firepit, boasting a graceful mix of orange and red with a few soft hints of yellow.

The colors reminded him of that one night.

Callum shoved the forearms into hiding with all the other parts, the two rings now nestled in his palm. With that, he exited the kitchen, an unfamiliar spring in his step as he ventured back up the staircase. Yes, he still had an enormous bloody mess to clean up, but this took priority.

His odd, partial heartbeat echoed in his ears as he re-entered the new bedroom and knelt down beside the bed.

Slowly, delicately, Callum took one of Lisa’s hands in his. He pressed a small kiss to her bandaged knuckles before sliding the new ring onto her finger.

It fit perfectly. Just like the gold ring did for him.

As for the odd-yet-sweet candy loop he’d made do with for the original proposal. . .well, he decided to leave it on the nightstand.

Just in case Lisa wanted to keep it when she woke up.

@mblume125 @upstartgeek @paper-cuts-and-fresh-bruises @queenofcandys @magpierose753 @therulerofallpotatos @blue-spider-official @chofisaquino @strangewerewolf @alienbactria @aphroditeinarms @weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral @scootis-the-scoot. @cherryycocaine @sammispook @creepycrow31 @radisyn @allthesecottoncandyskies @that-random-assassin @shelf-life-of-the-party @big-sad-world @lisascreatures @we-were-d3stined-t0-expl0de @artnormal @cr-0-wsworld @bllops-world @night-writer-writer @bunnygirlgracesworld @occasional-trash @a-live-wire @babi-gir @secretly-larry-daley @fawns-things @confused-hufflepuff-screaming

#my writing #my stories #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein spoilers #the creature #lisa frankenstein creature #lisa swallows #lisa x creature #(my headcanon name for creature is callum)#(I just think it would fit him well)#tw implied murder/death #tw implied violence #tw gore/blood #tw mentions of electrocution and fire #tw scars #tw body horror #tw dismemberment

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alilbatflies · 5 months

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I took part in @thepenultimateword's song-story writing challenge. It was fun!

My assigned song was Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel, submitted by @wacko-weirdo.

...

The fire cracks and sways, warm against the cold night. The shadows of those gathered around it dance much like flowers in the wind, swaying calmly without hurry. A unique form of slow dancing.

The hunter watches from further away. They could listen in on the conversation if they wanted to, but the sounds all smudge in their head. They barely manage to thread the waters of their conflicting thoughts. They’re tired.

The tree against their back is grounding. It’s the hunter’s only comfort. They don’t think to ask for more. They couldn’t possibly.

The group seems so calm. As if they’ve forgotten that there are still soldiers hunting them. The conversation is light, flickering with laughter like the dancing flames, all-consuming.

…perhaps they wish to forget for a while.

The hunter would much like to forget, too.

“Are you going to join us?”

The hunter looks at their old friend. Old friend doesn’t quite cut it. Neither does lover. Neither does any other label that the hunter has tried over the years. Their friend is simply always there.

Their witch friend.

The witch meets their eyes. The fire reflects in the deep brown that is so familiar to the hunter. Its familiarity offers comfort—comfort, which the hunter is unable to accept.

The hunter can’t bear to look.

They turn back towards the fire. Staring into the light is a bad idea, the hunter knows, for one cannot monitor the shadows blinded. And yet, they look. The blazing flames seem to swallow their worries, to soothe. The fire gazes right into their soul and warms its darkest corners. It all feels alright for a little while.

The witch gently takes their hand. They tug the hunter along, towards the fire.

The hunter’s arm lifts to follow the movement but they do not budge. The tree they’re leaning against is their anchor then. They fear losing their ground. They fear getting lost entirely.

They want to go. They want to let themselves be pulled along, they want to join everyone, they want to belong. They want to belong, to finally, finally…

“I’ve killed too many.”

On someone else’s orders. Because of someone else’s ideals. They didn’t know better.

The blood is on their hands.

I might have killed you, too.

The witch steps closer to them, interlocking their fingers instead. They examine their hand, the knuckles, callouses and scars. Those little wounds that tell the stories, if one can read them well enough.

They run their fingers over the hunter’s bandaged forearm, a ghost of a touch. They were the one who tended to the hunter’s injury that day.

“You’ve helped us get away.” The witch meets the hunter’s gaze. “You’ll help us still, won’t you?”

“Of course.” For you.

The witch keeps staring into their eyes. They might be trying to look right past, into the hunter’s mind and soul. They might just be able to read each and every of the hunter’s thoughts.

The hunter has thoughts. The hunter has many thoughts, flying around in their head, possibly causing more harm than good. The hunter can’t seem to stop them.

The hunter knows nothing of herbs. They know nothing of healing. With each moment passing by, they learn that they know nothing of witches, either. They try to learn.

They were told witches are dangerous. They were told they were vicious, vile creatures, evil beings beyond salvation. They were told death was a witch’s only comfort.

It used to be their only truth. The only thing that could help them carry the weight of their sword somewhat, when all of the life seeped out of another pair of silver eyes. It was their shield when the weight of taking a life threatened to slit them open.

It has all shattered so easily.

The hunter vividly recalls the moment their friend’s eyes flashed silver. Their friend was pushed to the edge, looking to them for help. The pieces fit together perfectly. The soldier next to them lunged forward. Their blow never landed.

The hunter met the others a little later on. The other not so evil creatures, who just want to live.

The hunter knows a little better now.

Witches are curious about the world much like their friend has always been. They bear their own weight, the magic running silver in their blood. They desire to live. To be safe. To be understood. The hunter can relate perfectly.

They try to learn.

“Thank you,” the hunter says.

“For what?”

Thank you for opening my eyes. For trusting me. For not letting me stay in the clutches of their truth.

“Being such a pain in my ass.”

The witch laughs. The sound wraps over the hunter like a soft blanket. Nobody ever told them that a witch’s laugh could heal.

The witch lifts the hunter’s hand. They press a kiss to it, holding their gaze.

The hunter shivers.

“I should thank you,” the witch whispers, “for protecting us.”

“Always.”

The witch pulls them along again. Towards the fire. Towards their family.

This time, the hunter lets them.

#songsandwords #writing challenge #and it was definitely a challenge #i think it turned out pretty good #snippet #writeblr #writing #creative writing #no beta we die like uh... we just die #witches #implied death #implied murder #tw implied violence #i think its very mild but just to be safe #im not sure how to tag trigger warnings but i did my best #fantasy snippet #witch x witch hunter #hunter x hunted

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yourleastfavoriteguyinthechairr · 1 year

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for whatever reason i just find it fvckin hilarious in the firefly episode where the guy working for niska is being so dramatic like ‘i will hunt you to the ends to the earth and the blade of my knife will be the last thing you will see’ and mal’s just like ‘darn’ and kicks him into the spinning engine like lol you dead

and when he does it with the other guy working with niska and he’s just like ‘YUH UH HUH ILL GET HIM THE MONEY oh god please don’t kill me-‘

#firefly #captain mal #malcolm reynolds #mr niska #tw: death #implied gore #murder #inara serra #shepherd book #kaylee frye #river tam #simon tam #jayne cobb #hoban washburne #wash #zoe washburne

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wreckrinho · 1 month

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whenever I get sick I have the extreme desire to simply do extreme bullying with my characters (I did the kidnapping comic when I was almost dying of a fever lol) so if my future drawings are angst or just really bad fights, dont judge me

its my way of coping (ig???) Sprry if it look weird, i know it does

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rowiewritesstuff · 1 year

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YAN EARTHSPARK SPIDER?!?!?? PLES

Yandere TFE Tarantulas- The Possessive/Manipulative Yandere

Normally, this bot had a general distaste for humans. Most of them weren’t to be trusted. When he had first started his work at the cemetery he was sure that no humans would go to such a dreary place.

One day when he was returning with some materials, you were there. You had a small kit with you- a brush, a spray bottle, a bag, and some cloth. Gloves adorned your hands as you gently scrubbed at the tombstones.

He soon realized that you were cleaning the tombstones. Quietly, he went back into his lab. He hoped that you would go away, lest he have to take more serious measures. After a while, you left.

A week later, you returned. This time, you were cleaning the grave in which he made his lab. He was so focused on his work that he failed to see you enter.

“Ah, hello there. Is this your home? I’m sorry to bother you,” your gentle voice sounded. He quickly turned around. You had a blank look on your face as you looked at the spider bot.

He quickly stuck you to the ground with his webbing and skittered over towards you. “You will pay for entering my lab, human.”

“Ah. Okay,” you shrugged, leaving him stumped. All he could do was stare at you as you looked around his lab. A light sparkle shone in your eyes. “What are you working on?”

Tarantulas squinted at you. He was going through all of the consequences of telling you in his processor, before you spoke again. “Oh- are you working on some kind of projection? No- this is more advanced than that. Hmmm.”

His mandibles clicked lightly in shock. So you had some semblance of intelligence, unlike most humans. “It is a holomatter avatar. I haven’t been able to perfect it yet.”

“Ah. Sorry, I’d help if I could. As much as I like looking at science, I’m not too good at it.”

Tarantulas made a spur of the moment choice and cut you free of your webbed prison. You quickly moved over to the tech that he’d built, looking on with fascination.

Slowly but surely, you became his assistant. You knew some basics enough about tools and such that you could help him with minor things. He taught you as you helped him, too. You slowly became more knowledgeable to the point where you could make some suggestions to him.

Eventually, a few months had passed. His lab had grown, and so had his compassion for you. You were an intellectual like him- you could be made into a scientist like him.

You would stay longer and longer at his lab. Sometimes you’d be there for days on end, working away. Tarantulas had gotten you a bed for you to sleep on so that you wouldn’t have to leave as often.

Every time you would have to leave for food or work, he got frustrated. He wished you could stay here all the time- which gave him an idea.

“You don’t have to work, you know. You could live here, and I could provide you with anything you might need. I could get you all the money you’ll need, and anything you want.”

You looked up at him with sadness. You knew he was lonely when you weren’t there. “I’m sorry… but I have to work. I like to work. I love helping the animals.”

He scoffed at you, “Don’t you like to help me? Am I not enough?”

You frowned at him. “I don’t mean it like that. I just… I like my job. I don’t know where you’d get the money from, either. Stealing is wrong, you know.”

“It’s from G.H.O.S.T., so it shouldn’t matter. They’re a horrible organization. Stay here, with me! Every time you go out, it’s a bigger risk that I may be caught by them. Staying with me is safer.”

Even being a little emotionally stunted, you knew something was off with what he was saying. “Tarantulas, maybe I shouldn’t come by as often as I do, then. I have been falling behind on paperwork at my job. I’ll see you later.”

As you turned to leave, he jumped in front of you. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you really think I’d allow you to leave just like that? After everything I’ve done for you? I’ve taken care of you- I’ve given you a place to sleep, taken care of that rotten boss for you. You’re being selfish.”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion. Your boss? The one that had gone missing a month ago? “Tarantulas… you didn’t…”

“Oh. I did. You see, my dear, I’d do anything for you. Only I know what’s good for you. You’re a little lost right now- but such is the nature of a human. Don’t worry, I’ll guide you in the right direction. It’s my job as your teacher.”

You began to back up. There was a back entrance to this grave that you knew about. As soon as you moved to get away, your feet stuck to the ground. You collapsed to the ground with a grunt. Tarantulas had pinned you to the ground with his webbing. You reached for your pocket where your utility knife was held. Before you could reach it, another web pinned your entire upper body to the ground.

You looked up in fear as Tarantulas loomed over you. “Tarantulas! Let me go! You’re being…being… a monster!”

His mandibles clicked in anger and he webbed your mouth shut. He picked up your webbed form and wrapped you tightly in more web so that only your head peeked out. He placed you on the bed not-so-gently.

“Someday, you’ll see this is for your own good. Now, I’ll release you when I get back from my food run- since you clearly can’t be trusted to go by yourself.” Tarantulas stood at the exit before turning back to you, “If you somehow manage to escape, just know that I’ll pay those precious little animals a visit for you.”

Tarantulas then left the room, shutting the heavy rock door behind him.

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perpetualexistence · 2 months

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An Appetite for Knowledge: A Prologue to A Total Drama Noah as a D&D Monster AU

So, I came up with an AU for Noah as a D&D monster. It was supposed to just be one post. Then I started writing a scene for it. Then more context to the scene. Then I came up with a cool name for the AU.

The next thing I knew I was editing the scene immensely and whoopsie daisy I have a horror one-shot.

For extra shits and giggles, I decided to be experimental with it. I wanted to try to do more with less. So I'm not going to name what kind of monster Noah is in this one-shot. If you think you've figured it out, please do leave a comment or put it in the tags because I'm curious.

I plan to post more about the AU itself, including exactly how Noah works, in a separate post that should only be stream of consciousness paragraphs. Do keep in mind that I don't plan to make this an actual fic series, this just serves as a prologue to the AU itself.

If you know nothing about D&D monsters, that's also okay! If I've written this story correctly, you shouldn't have to know anything about D&D in order to enjoy it.

I might end up posting this on AO3 eventually, it really just depends on how I'm feeling. For now, without furthur ado, An Appetite for Knowledge!

Content Warnings: Implied murder, blood

It needed a real body.

It grew tired of hiding from creatures larger and dumber than itself. It could not feed properly from them. It had no collective knowledge to work from. It could only wander in a direction and anticipate.

It came across a stray child hiding himself between the roots of a tree.

The child made not a sound. Not even an aura of magic around the child. I could feel the child's thoughts racing inside of his fleshy cocoon. The child is reading a book far beyond his reading level. A clever hiding spot for a clever child. Not much older than itself. Perfect.

It sent memories into the child's mind. The pain of being dragged from a cranium unknown and melded with paws and claws for travel. The ceaseless chatter of voices commanding it to obey and feed. The utter apathy for a purpose unbidden until now. The knowledge of exactly what was to happen next.

The child screamed. He threw his book to the ground. He used his free hands in his futile attempts to scramble through the roots. They were clearly a tight squeeze without the throes of panic. They were mere inconveniences for a creature the size of a fist.

"No! No no no-AAAAAAAH-"

He's 8 years old and is from the border. He comes from a poor family, but is himself blessed with magic. He was scouted by a magic academy for proper training and accepted immediately.

He's among the first of many students that are being taken back to the academy through a traveling caravan. He couldn't stand for being around others for so long. The second they settled for a break, he fled to seek solitude.

He can understand the sentiment. That's what it did when the demands of the hivemind stopped and he was blessed with free will. It wasn't going to stick around for the fights for power in a state of anarchy. But he'll have to be smarter than that now. He can't have another monster picking his body off while he's alone. Not to mention, he is soon to be among wizards.

They have many spells for finding creatures like him. He must find a way to counter them, or he must flee. He peeked into the spells he now knew. They are not many, but the fact there are any given his age explains why he feels almost stuffed with knowledge. He won't have to eat again for quite a while.

He found a spell that would allow his aura to appear as human as his body is. He would have to spend most of his energy casting this spell every day. But once his body grew, and he learned how to better yield his magic? Oh it would very much be worth the constant risk of discovery.

He slowly tilted his head up from his curled position. Light peeked from between the roots to irritate his closed eyelids. He slowly opened his right eye. The light hit his retina to reveal brown roots, brown skin, a brown book still clutched between his arms. He opened his left eye to reveal the same view. Muted colors. Colors nonetheless.

He opened his mouth slowly, and closed it again. He opened his mouth again, and stuck his tongue out to look at it. Closed it again.

His face stung from the scratches it had inflicted. He moved a limb, his arm, to touch his face. He brushed his middle finger against blood. He brought his bloodied finger into view. He took his thumb and rubbed it against his middle finger.

Sloppy work, but it was his first time. He was proud. Proud. Such a nice feeling. He couldn't wait to find out what else could make him proud.

He let out a squawk of indignation as he felt arms burst through the roots and drag him out.

"Kid!" the voice shouted. Based on the armor he was now staring at, this was a guard. He wore a tabard emblazoned with an insignia of runes and sorcery. He recognized that insignia. It was that of his new school. He recognized this voice. This was the guard he had snuck past to look for a place to read. "I heard the screams! What happened to you?! What were you even DOING out here?!"

He hasn't had enough time to parse through his social skills. He'll have to wing it, as his new knowledge of idioms provided. At least he doesn't have to worry about motor skills as he's being carried with two hands around his torso. His limbs dangle as he puts his effort towards speaking.

"I wanted somewhere to read alone." he said. His voice is flat. It's a chore to open his mouth to produce sounds. But that's what human children are capable of, so that's what he must do. The guard's eyebrows furrow in...concern? Ugh, right. Emotions are a thing he needs to account for now.

"Read al-Kid! Just because that weird brain thing got killed, it doesn't mean the woods are safe!" the guard shouted. Oh. That would explain the silence. "This is still a forest swamped with monsters!"

"They were safe enough for you to fall asleep on guard duty." he retorted. It was hard to place where this instinct came from. It had never liked the authority of the hivemind. He had never liked people looking down at him for his age.

The guard's face flushed red. Oh, pride was back. He'd have to do that more often.

"You little-" the guard started before he forced himself to stop. He looked to the ground to calm himself and noticed the claw marks. "Just...tell me what attacked you."

"I didn't see it clearly. I think the little creature that lived here came home. You must've scared it off."

The guard looked directly into his gaze. He couldn't fail this test. He was too exhausted to try again.

The last time he tried to hide something was when his mother caught him a few months ago. He'd stolen his sister's practice wand. He wanted to use it, and she was being selfish. His mother didn't know which sibling had stolen it. She was asking each of them individually. He had watched his innocent siblings meet her gaze, and she relented. He had tried to meet her gaze, but guilt overcame her and he had looked away from her.

He looked directly at the guard. The guard was the first to look away and sigh.

"Just don't do it again kid, next time you won't be so lucky." The guard slung him over his shoulder like a sack of grapes.

"You're right, I won't be."

"Let's just get you back to the others....uh..."

The guard is trying to pull for a name. His body's name is spoken in a tongue unfamiliar to most in this country. He was not lying. He will never be so lucky as to find an opportunity like this again.

What to say, what say? He's never had the ability to be creative before. He only knew what his body last knew before he moved in. Including his last words.

He tried going for a grin. He could only settle for a smirk.

"Noah. You can call me Noah."

#an appetite for knowledge au #total drama au #horror #total drama noah #td noah #total drama #dungeons and dragons au #dnd au #dnd monster #tw implied murder #cw implied murder #tw implied death #cw implied death #implied murder #implied death #blood #tw blood #cw bloow

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