#burning tw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

befuddled-calico-whump · 7 months

Text

Hand in Hand (part one)

A Riot Kings AU: When Melchior is betrayed by his men, Wes tries to help him escape. Before long, both men are captured.

@whumptober No. 6: Made to Watch

cw: torture, burning, death threat

///// next

~ ~ ~

The scream is almost loud enough to blow out the speaker, and it's all Dan can do not to cringe away from it, closing his eyes and covering his ears and pretending it's all a bad dream. Instead, he sits straight-backed in the metal chair, poised like he's attending a meeting in spite of the bruises blooming on his skin, the cuffs locked around his wrists. His face is expressionless, in spite of the man on the screen, bound and shaking.

In spite of being forced to watch the torture of the one person who cared enough to try and save him.

Dan almost flinches at the next scream, as the masked soldier presses the hot iron into Wes's bare chest. There are already a half-dozen similar burns scattered across his ribcage, standing out against pale, sweat-damp skin. Dan tries staring at the dingy wall behind his friend in an effort to avoid looking at his face, avoid seeing the desperation there. But every cry of pain only pulls his eyes back, sharpening the deep ache in his chest.

Swift knows what she's doing. She must've seen the burn scars covering Wes's back, must've known how much this would terrify him. If this is a game, she's already several moves ahead of Dan. His only weapon in this scenario, his only defense against this attack, is indifference.

And it hurts so much to play at indifference. But he knows it will be so much worse for Wes if he doesn't. There's no telling what Swift will do if she learns that this is a weak point.

When he's sure it's been long enough, when he can feel Swift's eyes on him, watching for a reaction, Dan finally speaks.

"Why are you showing me this?" he says, and it takes a considerable amount of effort to flatten his voice, but somehow he manages.

"Oh Mr. Melchior," Swift says in an oversweet voice. "Don't you care for the only man who remains loyal to you?"

"One man is insignificant," Dan replies, staring past the screen. "You've already won, Swift. Answer my question."

She doesn't, a smile playing on her lips as she pushes a button with a gloved hand, leaning forward to speak into the microphone above it. "Kill him."

The words rip through Dan like an electric shock. He can't keep his voice steady as he utters a quiet, "What?"

As the masked man on the screen reaches for his gun, Mercury grins at Dan, not even trying to feign surprise. "What's wrong? Didn't you just say he was insignificant?"

He tries to recover, tries to smear the callous expression back onto his face, but he knows it's too late. "Why waste a bullet on him?"

"Would you rather I have him beaten to death?"

The image is in his head before he can stop it; Wes lying bloody and unmoving on the cold concrete, Wes in agony right up until his last breath. "No."

"So you'll see no issue if--"

"No," Dan says again. On the screen, Wes is looking at the gunman, his executioner, with fearful eyes. His face is streaked with tears, and his mouth is moving with frantic, silent pleas. Like he's begging Dan to save him. Like there's anything Dan can do besides prolong his suffering. The gun is raised, pressed to Wes's forehead, and Dan flinches with him.

"Please don't hurt him." The words spill out, the facade fully broken. "Please. Just tell me what you want."

To his relief, she hits the button again. "Stop. Our guest has reconsidered." The man holsters the gun, and Dan wonders if it's even loaded, or if it's just another part of her game. Either way, Swift has accomplished her goal.

"There's a good man," she says, pulling at the edge of a glove. "I knew you were soft."

"What do you want?" he tries again through gritted teeth, but Swift only laughs.

"Patience, Mr. Melchior. We'll discuss terms once you've become more familiar with the stakes."

The stakes? She's already made those abundantly clear. Do her bidding, or Wes gets hurt. But what is her bidding?

When Swift speaks again, it's not Dan she's addressing, but the guards flanking the door. His own men, or at least they had been until last night.

"Put him in the cell," she orders. "We'll continue this conversation in the morning."

#whumptober2023 #no.6 #made to watch #oc #fic #torture tw #burning tw #death threat tw #wesgoesbrr #angst #forced to watch #riotkingsau #here's the next miniseries then #whump #i was iffy about this because getting in Mel's head? hard #especially because i get the easy way out by seeing actions and words in a comic #not tagging the comic crowd but i can make a separate tagging list for this! not sure how long it'll get

58 notes · View notes

nerdylilpeebee · 6 months

Text

I have a story idea.

I'm kinda rewriting my story "Pandora" because I kinda didn't find as much enjoyment in what I was writing as I wanted to, and I just honestly got a really cool idea in my head that I wanna roll with. I would like to write it down here, both for y'all's opinions and so I have it written down somewhere.

So, this story is about vampires. Specifically, it is the story of a new vampire.

A young noble girl, named Thalia, is born in a society that treasures magic-users. It's a society as advanced as our own, but magic has been an integral part of it for thousands of years, so it is a bit different than our own.

And she, on the day of her 18th birthday, is to finally go through a ritual all mages must endure to discover what their true magic affinity is. Some can know this even before the ritual just due to the nature of how their magic manifests, but Thalia's magic has always been... Odd. No one could quite tell what type it was. She could cast the most novice spells like any budding spell caster, but her magic energy always gave anyone who could sense it this... Uneasy feeling and the color of her magic energy was a deep violet, an incredibly uncommon color.

Masters of magic and scholars of history had only ever seen the color before in the pages of history books, and always on a figure who would bring great calamity. A necromancer. However, despite the color, Thalia had never shown any real indication she was a necromancer. She was kind, she never harmed anyone with her magic, she could even heal minor wounds on people. Granted it never looked like any healing spell anyone had ever seen before, but there was still nothing but the color indicating she was a necromancer.

But then came the ritual. Mages must cast their magic energy into a magic circle. What happened as a result would reveal their magic type. Some had the circle produce a gout of fire, some an icy structure, some a column of water. Etc. Thalia's... Produced a spirit. But not just any spirit. Rising from the circle as if summoned straight from hell was a being Masters of Magic knew well from their studies. A being that had long been gone from this world. The first Vampire, Lilith, rose before them in spirit form, powerless to harm them, but a clear sign that Thalia was, indeed a necromancer.

Many wanted to kill her right then and there. But ultimately, it was decided the High Council, a group of master mages that advises the emperor, should decide what happens to her. Thalia's family was, after all, very important and influential and held a seat on the council. Killing their daughter without their consent, even if it was, from their perspective, to protect the world from another Calamity would provoke an all-out civil war.

Thalia, of course, receives no explanation. Didn't know what she was seeing or who the spirit was, nor what it meant about her magic. She just witnessed their terrified expressions around her as the spirit appears, and is forcibly detained within the ritual tower. Some time passes, and she realizes she can speak to the spirit she summoned. Tho she doesn't really have anything to say to Thalia, seemingly refusing to converse with a human.

Lilith, who's name is more a title than her actual name, which she abandoned long ago, can see where this is going and frankly doesn't care much to warn Thalia or try to prevent it. In her eyes, there is no point to it. And besides, if they kill her, she is sure of one thing: the calamity they fear so much will come to pass. She's seen it all before, after all, the rage and resentment of an innocent person being condemned to death. That rage resulting in the one thing humans should fear most but are too ignorant to know of: a Lich. And Lilith is eager to see mankind's folly result in their own destruction.

And just as Lilith suspects, the rest of the mages return, taking Thalia from the ritual tower. She is guided to the bottom floor and out to the grounds, where her family awaits. She is grateful to see them, but begs for clarity. What is going on? Why were they so afraid? Why was she locked in the tower? And very quickly, she gets her answer. For awaiting beyond her family is a large stone pillar, surrounded by an awaiting pyre. To the horror of both Thalia and Lilith, who watches from the top of the tower, Thalia's sentenced is the same as all practitioners of the dark arts: death by fire.

Thalia resists of course, but she has no real power. No strength. She can't escape and is dragged to the pyre and tied to the stone, each wrist restrained by rope. She does as all innocent people do as they are told they will die for no wrongdoing of her own: she cries. She asks her family for help, her mother, her father. But they only answer her with cold, unfeeling eyes.

The high council declares Thalia a threat to the natural world, and declares she will be cleansed by fire. A formality of course, as all present already knew the sentence. As the wood beneath is set alight, Thalia's eyes lock with her parents'. She asks them for help one last time, but is again met by silence.

The fire rises, and Lilith smiles, sure now that she will become a Lich, and humanity will regret this day for the rest of eternity. She can almost feel it coming, the anger, the pain... But as she watches Thalia's head lowers, rising moments later to look her parents in the eyes again... instead of rage and resentment at being abandoned, Lilith sees... A smile. Thalia, with death closing in, says she doesn't understand what is happening or why she needs to die, but if her parents wish it then it must be for a good reason. Her final words are the last thing anyone was expecting, least of all Lilith: "I Forgive You."

No one has time to process this. Thalia's smile is quickly replaced by screams of agony. The fire quickly consumes her, engulfing her entire body.

Lilith looks on disbelief. For the first time in a long time, she began to feel it; empathy for a human. Absurd, she thought. Why should she feel sorry for a human? Humans had exterminated vampires a long time ago. They had shown no mercy, not even to their own. Why bother feeling for beings that did not even seem to feel for each other? She tried to force it down, to stop this rising emotion, but as Thalia's agonizing screams began to fall silent, tears began to fall down her face. And she made a decision. Maybe there would not be the hate required to produce a Lich, but this crime would not go unpunished. She would not let it.

The fire raged until nightfall, Thalia's body being reduced to ash. Lilith, now free from the circle binding her to the tower, quickly makes her down to the now-burned-out pyre. The crowd once surrounding it had long dispersed, a sole priest left behind to cleanse the ashes and lay her to rest. As she looked upon the evidence of mankind's folly, of yet another attrocity committed by mortalkind, she raised her hands before her, channeling all of the dark magic she could muster.

"hear me, innocent one," she cried, smiling as the life essence of the Priest, who only just noticed her presence, was drained by her spell. "Unjustly killed, unfairly judged."

The stars in the sky begin to flicker out and die as she speaks.

"Forced from this world by this worthless sludge. Hear me now in your slumber, death cannot contain such a worthy grudge."

The moon begins to shine a blood red.

"Rise from your ashes, as nightmare to all. Rise in darkness, Nosferatu, and bring about humanity's fall!"

Her voice echoes through the night, magic swirling around Thalia's ashes. A skeletal hand rips out from the remains, grasping at the earth around it. Slowly, the skeleton of what once was Thalia begins to pull out of her ashes, its muscle reforming itself around her.

She gasps for air as her lungs reform, pulling herself further out of the ash until finally her entire body was free. Her teeth began to sharpen as her regeneration reached it's final stage. Her skin reformed around her, then her hair, fingernails, everything reformed until finally Thalia was whole again. Breathing deeply, trembling on the floor as her psyche struggled to recover from the agony she had experienced.

Lilith waited with a smile, relished the dark magic permeating through the air. She knew it wouldn't be long until the humans reacted to this darkness, but it didn't matter now. A new Nosferatu had been born.

As Thalia's eyes finally opened, glowing blood red in the crimson moonlight, Lilith's smile became almost manic. Finally, her kin walked the earth again. Finally, the vampires extinction was overturned. Finally...

The wheel turns upon all human-kind.

_______________

I honestly may try writing this in third person, but yeah, this is my story idea. It's basically the prologue to what's going to happen. It's obviously gonna take place over several chapters, and since Thalia's the main character it will be told from her perspective. I'd love any and all feedback. :3

#writing #my writing #original story #vampires #yuri #vampire #magic #burning tw #trigger warning

19 notes · View notes

cipheramnesia · 2 years

Text

Okay, so the first thing to realize is that you should not under any circumstances be in the middle of an explosion. If you can avoid it, you should, and most of the time of your life is already spent not in an explosion, so it's not much extra work.

As a person who spent time in the middle of a gas explosion, I've been learning a lot about the nature of being exploded. Probably the most important lesson was that I was very lucky because explosions can put fire into your throat and lungs, your eyes, and even your hair. Fortunately my explosion didn't get into any of those places allowing me to continue having hair, seeing, and breathing.

If you have ever done the thing with a lighter where you let out a bunch of the gas and make a tiny fireball in your hand, or had a gas oven take a bit too long to light, then you know roughly how my explosion sounded at the start. As a matter of fact, my explosion was a lot faster than my brain at the time, which admittedly was pretty tired. Regardless, there was a period which in real time was very fast but mentally very slow where the explosion was a little "wumph" just like your tiny lighter or gas stove. Unlike those examples, the little wumph just kinda... kept going, defying all my rational expectations which were not exactly ready for fire to be happening at that scale.

It's not the best way to find out, but I remember how beautiful the fire was, crawling up the wall in a sweeping arc of electric blue, yellow, and astonishing magenta. After that I was inside an explosion, and screaming.

I've had experiences which may help understand the way being in an explosion feels. First, if you've ever had a blast of heat from opening an oven, it has some similarity. The heat hit me in a solid mass, over and around me, surrounding me in the same way that wash off a hot oven does. Where the explosion was different was the way it didn't stop. It persisted enveloping me, while internally I was fully in denial, unable to understand why the heat did not just stop.

Second, if you've ever experienced difficulty breathing, being in an explosion felt like the air was pulled from my lungs, as if I was underwater, but the water was fire and hot air.

And third is wind. More than anything else, it resembled the bitterest cold, northern lake effect winter I've experienced. Those winters had wind so cold and so strong and so bitter that gusts of it would make breathing impossible. I had to walk backwards plenty of times just so I could breathe. And if wind has ever hit you so hard your body was shoved around, or if you've been through subzero winters with gale winds, then you know already the physical force, and the physical pain, of air at extreme temperatures buffeting your body.

Combine that with temperatures like your oven on broil, and that's an approximation of being in an explosion.

After that, there's a blank spot where I moved six feet and somehow managed to get out of the room with too much exploding. I was able to breathe again and the room was fully engulfed, and I don't mind telling you my arms didn't look great at the time.

But anyway, if you ever wanted to know how explosions feel, that's my best description. While the experience was interesting and did not kill me, I think I wouldn't do it a second time.

#house fire cw #fire #burning tw #ok to reblog

180 notes · View notes

selfshippingquotes · 2 years

Text

S/I: F/O, how did you manage to set a lemon on fire?

F/O: I microwaved it for forty minutes.

S/I: Why were you microwaving a lemon?

F/O: I wanted to cover up the smell of burning oranges, and I read somewhere that boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells, but I didn't have any pots so I microwaved it instead.

S/I: You burnt oranges, too? How?

F/O: I microwaved them for forty minutes.

119 notes · View notes

another-whump-sideblog · 10 months

Text

Jane’s Pets Chapter 82: The Point

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

You are empty.

You don’t know how long it’s been. A long time. Your life is nothing but pain and pain and pain. Several of your wounds are infected. You wish she would just kill you.

“Are you thirsty, Liam?”

You recoil at the name. No point in trying to convince her you’ve forgotten it, though. No point. Never any point.

You never should’ve left. None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t left.

Pain erupts in your side. “Answer me when I talk to you, Ethan.”

“S-sorry. Yes, master, I’m thirsty.” You rasp.

“I’ve got an idea for how you can earn some water. Do you want to try it?”

“Yes, master.”

“Excellent. We haven’t done a lot of stress positions, have we? I’ll start simple. I want you to hold your arms straight above your head. I’ll keep track of how long you manage to hold the position, and for every second, you’ll get one drop of water in this bottle here.” Jane is holding an empty water bottle. “Understand?”

“Yes master.”

“Alright! Let’s begin.”

You hold your arms straight above your head. It hurts immediately, especially on your back, where it stretches open gashes that have only just managed to close.

You count in your head. One, one thousand; two, one thousand; three, one thousand.

You want to get to at least two minutes. One hundred and twenty drops of water has to be something, right?

She won’t let you die. You could just give up, act like the pain is too much. You’d get water eventually. But she’d just do something else painful to you, and you can handle this pain, so you might as well keep going.

“Ah ah, keep them straight.”

You hadn’t noticed your arms had started to move out of position. You straighten them again.

You don’t think you would’ve been able to do this, before. But you know your limits much better now. You know that you can and have withstood pain worse than this for longer, without any chance of reward. So you keep your arms up.

—

Jane holds a knife glowing with heat. You can’t stop crying.

“I learned my lesson! I know, I know! I don’t remember the names! Master!”

Jane slashes the knife from your shoulder to your hip. It burns and aches and you think you’re going to vomit.

“Say ‘thank you, master.’”

“Th-thank you, master!”

—

Hot needles. Jane seems to be very interested in heat, lately.

“Do you want them under your fingernails, or under your toenails?”

You try to speak, but what comes out is unintelligible. Your throat hurts so bad…

Jane smiles. “Both it is, then.”

—

“Oh, poor boy, poor Bunny. Do you think you’re ready to go back upstairs?”

Hope rises in you before quickly receding. She’s not just going to let you upstairs. She’s going to want you to prove you’ve forgotten the names, like last time.

“Are you ignoring me? That’s a very bad idea, Bunny.”

“S-sor-“ you can’t quite form words. Everything hurts.

Jane doesn’t say anything. Just gently combs her fingers through your hair.

You hate it, but it’s better than torture, so you sit still and let her pretend she’s comforting you.

It hurts, like everything else, tugging at barely-healed gashes on your head. But it could be worse. It can always be worse.

“Hmm. I think that’s enough. I think we’re done. I’ll have Puppy and Kitty come and get you.”

Jane buckles a collar around your neck. You don’t let yourself feel relief. It’s another trick, you’re sure. But Jane vanishes, and soon enough, Puppy and Kitty are coming down the stairs.

Even if it is a trick, you’re happy to see them. You shouldn’t be. You should be glad that it’s been so long since they’ve been in the basement, but you’re not. You’re glad they’re here with you.

Puppy gently scoops you into her arms. It hurts- of course it hurts, everything hurts- but you don’t even have it in you to whimper.

Puppy caries you upstairs, and Kitty follows behind. Is it… really done? Is it really over?

You’re worried you’re dreaming, but you don’t check. Using the methods you and Diya devised right now would feel awful, and you don’t really want to know if you’re dreaming, anyway.

Puppy and Kitty feed you and bathe you and bandage the wounds Jane didn’t feel like treating (most of them). Then they lay you gently down on your bed.

It’s really over. It’s really…

Everything hurts, but you have the sinking feeling that you got off easy.

—

The next day, Kitty drags you out of bed and out into your garden. You hate how moving makes your pain exponentially worse, and you hate that this thing that you wanted because it would give you more time away from Jane has turned into another way for her to control you.

But you like the sun. It’s been quite a while since you saw the sun.

You weed and water your little garden. You don’t know if you’re doing it right, if you’re giving the plants the right amount of water, but no one’s corrected you.

Kitty lies in the grass and stares up at the clouds.

You remember cloud gazing with Diya and Ray. Joking with them, laughing with them, spending time with them like you had all the time in the world.

“…This happened to you?” Your voice is croaky and painful to listen to. “You escaped… you made friends… you loved them… and she killed them?”

Kitty doesn’t look away from the clouds. “Yeah.”

“…What were they like?”

Kitty doesn’t answer for long enough that you think they might’ve fallen asleep, but then they softly say “they didn’t believe me, about Jane. But they comforted me through flashbacks and nightmares anyway, and listened without judgement. I named myself… something else, when I was with them. I don’t remember now.

“It was three people, just like with you. Erik, Alison, and Zoe. They were… they didn’t deserve to die. I guess that’s obvious. You would’ve liked them.”

“You would’ve liked Diya and Ray and Barron.”

“I’m sure. That’s why I didn’t go with them. Among other reasons. I just… couldn’t go through that again.”

The two of you sit in silence. The wind rustles your hair. It’s getting long.

After a while, Puppy leaves the house and comes and sits next to you. She hands you a water bottle, but you just set it on the ground and collapse into her arms.

You feel like crying, but you don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re still pretty dehydrated. You close your eyes and bury your face in the crook of Puppy’s neck.

Puppy taps gentle patterns on your back. Ouch. It hurts, but you don’t want her to stop.

Puppy hasn’t hummed since you got back. You don’t know why, but you can guess that Jane’s cracked down on her making any noise at all. Because Jane can do whatever she wants and you can’t stop her.

It’s a nice day. Warm and sunny with a slight breeze. The smell of dirt is strong.

You don’t feel better, necessarily, but you feel… settled. Settled into the aches and pains all over your body, and settled into Puppy’s arms.

“My dad died when I was 16.” You say. You’re not sure why. Puppy squeezes your hand. Ow.

“That sucks.” Kitty says. “I mean, I assume, based on the context. I wouldn’t mind so much if my parents died. But it seems like it sucked for you.”

That tears a weak laugh from you. You turn so you’re not talking directly into Puppy’s shoulder. “Yes, it sucked. I… didn’t handle it well. My aunt took me in, and I just- it was like the world had ended. I didn’t really do anything. I didn’t graduate high school. My aunt tried to help, but… she wasn’t great at it. When I was 19 she said that I couldn’t live with her if I wasn’t even going to try, so I left.

“I figured I’d just… die. But I didn’t. Something always pushed me to keep going, to get my next meal, to find where I would sleep that night…

“And then I let a torturer who looked like a 12 year old bring me to her house because I wanted things to be easy again. So that worked out well.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I want you to know, I think. I’m just… so tired. And I know you are too. I just… I don’t know. I miss Diya and Ray and Barron, and I miss my dad, and I miss feeling safe. And you said, once, that we were chosen, that us being here means no one else is here in our place, but that’s not true, is it? Cause you being here didn’t stop her from taking me. And none of us could stop her from taking a fourth pet, if she wanted.

“It all feels so… empty. Meaningless. I guess I just need to focus on the next step. The next meal, where I’m going to sleep tonight… well, the next step is different in this situation, but I’ll figure it out.

“I know it started hurting less after a while, when my dad died. But… that wasn’t my fault. I’m worried I’ll just go between feeling this and complete numbness, back and forth, for the rest of my life, however long Jane wants that to be.”

Your voice has gotten less croaky as you talk more, but it still doesn’t sound great. Puppy and Kitty don’t seem to mind, though. Puppy taps your back. Kitty stares at the clouds.

“It does get better.” Kit finally says. “Even if you feel like it’s your fault.”

No one voices the obvious- that ‘better’ doesn’t mean much when you’ll still be being tortured. That there’s nothing to really hope for, at this point.

Fuck, you’d do anything to give them a little hope. You don’t know how you’d do that, but once you figure it out…

You’d give anything. Anything, for them to look forward to the future again. That’s the point. That’s the meaning.

For now, though, you rest in Puppy’s arms, and you feel the sun and the breeze Puppy’s soft shirt, and you smell the dirt, and you hear the three of you breathing, getting deeper and more relaxed as time goes on, and that’s enough. You wouldn’t mind staying in this moment forever.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz @quins-whump-stuff

14 notes · View notes