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#graphic depiction of violence tw

whatlovelybones-if · 1 year

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DEMO RELEASE!!!

THE DAY IS FINALLY HERE!!! IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE Y’ALL, BUT WE’VE CONQUERED BURNOUTS AND OVERTHINKING TOGETHER TO ACTUALLY GET BACK ON TRACK WITH WRITING! I HAVE CHAPTER TWO ON THE WAY ALREADY AND IT’S GONNA BE LONGER THAN THE PROLOGUE AND CHAPTER ONE COMBINED SO LET’S GO!!!

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: insinuation of child abuse ⚠️

create your friendly neighbourhood killer surgeon.

meet a characters that plays a huge role in the MCs life.

live through a childhood filled with sinister figure(s).

meet a new friend and lose them.

get a glimpse of what has shaped the surgeon’s past.

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: murder, violence, gore & body horror ⚠️

a missing report. a murder. a youngblood cop. surely nothing can go wrong, right?

settle into your quite extraordinary life in helmsford.

WHAT IS THAT MELODYYYY?

deal with a pesky voice in your head.

meet vivienne, the kind psychiatrist, who wants nothing but to help you. it’s for you to decide how you feel about that.

what are you hiding, doctor?

what will you do when someone stumbles on the skeletons you hide in your closet, or should i say, basement.

kill.

A/N: a reminder that i have quite a lot of issues to fix in this update so i appreciate all the feedback i’ll get. they will all get fixed and major changes will be implemented with the update of chapter 2, including adding trans options, tattoo options and the touch-averse option.

fair warning that the graphic contents of this story will get worse, the prologue and chapter one were just the tip of the iceberg. if you get easily disturbed by these scenes, i’ll start implementing the auto-skip option from the next update to avoid the gruesome scenes.

acknowledgements: special thanks to fish (any pronouns) for helping me immensely with the coding aspect and @nikkefort (they/them) for providing a great design to all my imaginations. i have huge respect for coders cause i can’t do it properly even if my life depended on it. without these two superstars, this game would take years to complete so a huge shoutout to them!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, LET’S GET TO WORK!

#what lovely bones #demo release #twine #interactive fiction #twine sugarcube #choice of games #hosted games #oh also #expect to meet the other ROs in chapter two hehe #tw: child abuse #tw: blood #tw: graphic depictions of violence #tw: gore #tw: body horror #tw: body mutilation

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adrift-in-thyme · 8 months

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Whumptober Day 3: "Make it stop"

Read it on Ao3

- Wild & the Chain

- Summary: When Wild is captured by the Yiga Clan, Master Kohga decides to get his revenge

CW for graphic depictions of violence, torture, blood and injury, vomiting, and a character briefly wishing for death

----------------------

“Get up!”

Wild pries open his eyes just as a boot connects with his side. He jerks away with a hiss of pain.

Of all the horrible ways to wake up…

The face of a Yiga assassin comes into view as his vision clears and he groans.

Even better.

“I said, get up!”

Another kick that takes Wild’s breath away.

“Yeah that’s not the best way to get me off the floor,” he remarks, dragging himself into a seated position.

That earns him a sharp smack across the face. Wincing, he watches as the assassin bends down, unlocking his chains. They fall to the floor with a clatter. But Wild hardly has time to breathe a sigh of relief, or rub his wrists, or even to plan a quick escape. Almost immediately, the Yiga yanks his hands behind his back, then ties them tightly with a thick rope.

The coarse material rubs at his already raw wrists. It only adds to the cacophony of aches that have begun to arise now that he’s conscious. Wild blows out an annoyed sigh. As if he could forget how sorely he had lost his last fight.

Rough hands haul him to his feet and he stumbles. His surroundings go fuzzy and dim and for a moment he is certain he’s going to faint. But then it passes. And not a moment too soon. The Yiga shoves him forward and wrenches open the cell door.

The same one they’d thrown Barta into, Wild realizes dazedly. The thought doesn’t make him feel any more comfortable.

“Walk,” comes the sharp order, accompanied by another, hearty push. Stumbling on achingly numb legs, Wild starts forward.

He falls more than walks down the stairs. Between the Yiga’s forceful movements and the haze he has yet to pull himself out of, he can hardly keep himself upright. Even the journey across the main room is difficult.

Especially once he realizes where they’re headed.

“Master Kohga will be so pleased to see you,” his captor hisses, no doubt noticing the sudden increased tension in Wild’s shoulders.

“Didn’t I kill him?” Wild asks, with a forced chuckle. Maybe if he feigns nonchalance it will mask the thundering of his heart. He sends a furtive glance around the space, looking for anything that could possibly allow for a quick escape. But there is nothing.

…and no one. Save for the few assassins who leer at him from beneath their masks.

He swallows, hard. “I think I remember dropping his own weapon onto his head.”

That garners him a swift kick to the shins. He trips, only saved from face planting by the Yiga’s tight grip.

“You are a fool to think our master is so easily defeated. You on the other hand…”

The hallway narrows, then widens into a familiar room. He forces himself to take a deep breath.

“…you will meet your end today.”

Wild lifts his head as he walks through the doorway, heart situated painfully in his throat. Master Kohga sits before him, looking very much alive.

“You,” he snarls as soon as he lays eyes on the champion. “You cocky, undying little punk! You thought you had seen the end of the Great Master Kohga, didn’t you?”

Wild shrugs, a slight smirk on his lips. “I did drop a boulder on your head.”

The Yiga restraining him kicks his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with an “oof.”

“That-that is inconsequential!” Kohga replies, huffily. “I am more powerful than death! But for the pain you caused my beloved, loyal followers” – He rises now, stomping his foot along with every word– “You. Are. Going. To. Die!”

His captor’s grip tightens and he yanks on Wild’s hands. Wild falls back, head bumping against the assassin's hip.

“Shall I take him outside, Master Kohga?” A sadistic sort of excitement colors his voice. It makes Wild’s blood run cold.

Kohga nods. “Yes, take him. I do not wish to ruin my furniture with his blood.”

Again, Wild is hauled upward, though this time a vicious sickle finds its way into his back. It bites into his flesh and he fights not to let out a hiss of pain.

“Move,” the Yiga snaps and Wild stumbles out into the sun.

Kohga sits cross-legged over the crater Wild had been so certain he had plummeted into, hovering serenely just above it.

“Come forward, hero,” he sneers as Wild is shoved toward the gaping hole. “You will be pleased to find that I have perfected my art more than ever!”

With a snap of his fingers, a massive boulder appears above his head. Dozens of tiny spikes protrude from its smooth surface. Wild’s blood runs cold. Abandoning his more measured, methodical tugs of before, he begins yanking ferociously at his bonds.

But then, the Yiga drives his sickle into the back of his leg and all thoughts of an escape vanish. He chokes on a cry. His vision bleeds white. It’s all he can do not to pass out.

One, swift movement and the weapon is out of him, tearing through his flesh as easily as fingers through tissue paper. This time he screams.

He hardly registers it when the Yiga backs away, barely realizes that a large, stone door is sliding over the opening behind him, blocking any exit.

But Kohga’s shrill laughter pierces his ears like knives and he drags his head up to look at him.

“If I were you I would run,” he says, voice nearly brimming with excitement. “Because the time for vengeance has come!”

He begins to swing the boulder over his head. With each trip around it gains momentum, growing closer and closer to the moment when it will break free and careen straight at Wild.

Come on, get up. You’ve got to move.

Gritting his teeth, Wild forces himself to his feet. Pain shoots through his leg anew, like a thousand tiny shards of glass have entered his wound. A scream breaks through his parched lips. His lungs burn, breath coming too fast, heart beating erratically. Stars explode before his eyes.

And still the boulder spins. The motion makes him dizzy.

On trembling limbs he stumbles forward, bile rising in his throat. But each step is sheer agony and he’s slow.

…much too slow.

When the boulder flies free, he can’t evade it. It collides with his body and he goes flying. Pain erupts within him. It steals his breath, propels forth a shout of shock and agony, makes his extremities go numb. He can hear his bones cracking even over the rushing in his ears. His vision goes blindingly white, then spotty, then dangerously dark.

He hits the ground, crying out at the agony of the impact. And the boulder comes down with him, crushing his prone body.

Somewhere, Kohga is laughing. The boulder disappears, retreating back to its owner to prepare for another round. Wild knows he should get up, knows he should at least attempt to run. But all he can do is lie there, trying to breathe. Trying to stay awake.

Blood gurgles in his throat and he pitches sideways, gagging on it. Against the blurred sand, the liquid looks far darker than usual. Almost black.

Like the blood of the Shadow, he thinks dazedly.

He doesn’t get much farther than that thought. Because once more the boulder shoots forward. This time it rolls into him more than flies, shoving him against the far wall and pinning him there.

He doesn’t have the strength to scream, even as the spikes tear out chunks of his flesh and his shattered bones protest this newest assault. He yearns for oblivion that refuses to come.

“So, hero, how do you like it?”

It hits him again, smashing him against the cool stone. He gags on blood once more. It drips into his eyes, runs in rivulets down his face, pools in the gashes that run along his body.

“Painful, isn’t it? Well, that is what you did to me!”

Wild teeters on the edge. Of death or unconsciousness, though, he isn’t sure. Death, he hopes.

(Though at the same time, he doesn’t, because that means he has lost the battle again, failed everyone again, but sweet Hylia he just wants this to stop. Please make this stop.)

And it’s clear now that there will be no other escape.

Your brothers aren’t coming for you. Even if they are, they’ll be too late.

It’s already too late.

“But the mighty Master Kogha prevails over pain and death! You, however, are weak! Weak, weak, weak!”

The boulder retracts and Wild watches it dimly. One more hit is all it will take. He is certain.

So much for coming back to life.

He can see bone, he realizes, shining gorily from his left arm. It is at a strange angle too.

Must be broken.

It certainly isn’t the only thing. But somehow, that hardly seems important at the moment.

His eyes slip closed. Everything hurts. The only other time he felt like this was when he collapsed on Blatchery Plain.

I’m sorry, Zelda, for putting you through this again.

I’m sorry…

“Champion!”

A shout rings out across the space, protectively furious and wonderfully familiar. There’s a scream and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. But the blow he expects doesn’t fall on him.

Instead, gentle hands lift his head, cradling it. He blinks open swollen eyes to see the blurred face of Twilight hovering just above him. Legend and Sky appear over his shoulder, seconds later.

“Twi.”

Clumsily, he tries to reach out with his less injured arm, eager to touch him, to prove that he is real. But his body refuses to follow his commands. He doesn’t have to worry, though. The rancher’s hand easily finds its way into his.

“I’ve got you, Wild,” he says, and there is pure fire in his tone. “You’re safe now.”

A head of familiar pink hair leans over him. Gentle, trembling hands nudge his chin upward.

“Here, you’ve gotta drink this.”

Potion is poured down his throat, lukewarm and burning. But the magic of it begins its work immediately, zipping purposefully toward the worst of his wounds.

Wild swallows it with an effort. Then, he drags his eyes back up to meet Twilight’s. “Kohga?”

It is hardly a whisper, yet they hear it anyway.

“Dead.” He thinks it’s Sky who answers, though his voice doesn’t quite have its usual tone. It is a brittle thing. Dangerous. “For good this time.”

Wild tries to grin, but finds he isn’t quite up to it. “Good,” he mumbles instead. “Tired of his dumb belly.”

Twilight’s lips quirk the slightest bit. Gently, he brushes aside Wild’s bangs, wet with blood and sweat.

“Well, he’s never gonna touch you again.”

“Now, rest up,” Legend says, shakily. “We’ve got this handled. You focus on not dying.”

Any other time Wild would laugh and tease the vet about his blatant caring. But all he can focus on is the pleasantly numb feeling that has begun to spread throughout his body, and how warm Twilight’s embrace is as he scoops him carefully off of the ground. His eyes slip closed of their own accord. Before he even realizes what is happening, the darkness swallows him and he is gone.

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iamnotthere-idonotdie · 3 months

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dream of me

part four

…………………………………………………………………………………….

synopsis: reader and bruce have moved in together and their relationship is going well. but a new gotham criminal kidnaps reader and they face sudden death, as well as a secret bruce has been keeping.

content: batman/bruce wayne x reader, cursing, no smut, violence, torture, death, blood, breaking/broken bones, kidnapping, brutality, guns, knives, vomit, graphic descriptions of violence and injuries

a/n: okay so this one took a dark turn, and i’m very surprised i was able to finish it so fast. i knew how i wanted this to play out but i wasn’t expecting it to get as graphic as it did so i do apologize for that honestly. i think what im learning is that as i write, i sort of envision it as a movie playing out in my head so sometimes it can feel more like a script than a story. also sorry if there are some wrong medical terminology and stuff in here, and sorry for any typos as well!

edit: also— i think i was kind of envisioning the joker here as seen in something like the killing joke (movie). honestly i just kind of read this joker with mark hamill’s voice altogether.

……………………………………………………………………………………

“good morning, sleep well, i hope?”

“good morning, alfred. yes i did, thank you.”

you pour yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen as alfred makes breakfast. you grab a mug for bruce and pour his as well.

“bruce still out?”

“yes, he called and informed me that he’ll be back soon from his workout.” alfred says as he flips the omelette in the pan.

“these workouts have been getting longer and longer.”

“he does like to keep active.”

“right, he just seems to get up so early for them. the other day i woke up in the middle of the night and he was gone, it wasn’t even 4am yet.”

“he finds the 24-hour gym is less crowded in the early hours.”

alfred slides the omelette onto a plate and sets it on the small table for you.

“thank you alfred. i just worry he’s not getting enough sleep.”

“oh, i’ve been worrying about his sleep for years.”

“i sleep plenty.” bruce enters the kitchen. “morning alfred.”

“good morning, sir.”

bruce walks over to the table and kisses you.

“good morning.” you say as you hand him his coffee.

bruce sits and alfred sets a plate of breakfast in front of him too.

“thanks alfred.”

“i just hope you’re sleeping enough is all. it seems like lately it’s been less and less.” you take a sip of your coffee and look at bruce. you don’t want to be a nag, but you do worry.

he takes a sip too and looks back at you.

“i’m fine, really.”

you smile unconvincingly at him and continue eating.

the rest of breakfast is quiet, but you don’t mind the still silence. this morning routine has brought you comfort over the last few months since you moved in. alfred set up your own room when you first came, but you and bruce quickly realized you both prefer sleeping in the same bed. that is, when he’s actually sleeping in it.

you finish breakfast and bruce takes your plates and puts them in the sink, alfred already turning on the tap.

you and bruce go back upstairs and you start getting dressed for work. he doesn’t always go in, but even on days like today when his work is to be completed at home, he still drives you. he told you early on that you could work hybrid as well, that you two could work together at home on his off days. but you enjoy working at the desk. and with this new outreach project you’ve been working on, you prefer having the team in person to collaborate.

as you button your top, bruce comes up behind and wraps his arms around you, stopping you from finishing.

“bruce…” he cuts you off by kissing your neck. you leave your shirt half open as you turn around and put your arms around his neck. you kiss, letting yourself forget about work. he slides his hands down your back and pulls you in tighter. you won’t ever get enough of this.

your phone’s alarm sings to tell you it’s time to leave. bruce pulls it out of your pocket and silences it, tossing it on the bed with a smile.

“i really should go today.”

“i think you should stay.”

“i don’t know…”

“it’s not like you’ll get fired, i’m your boss.”

you laugh lightly.

“maybe i should fire you, would mean you’d get to stay home all the time.”

you laugh again and kiss him.

“well maybe i could take a sick day today.”

“don’t worry, i wont tell anyone.”

he smiles and kisses you again. all that time getting dressed was for nothing as bruce unbuttons the rest of your shirt and you slide your pants off. while this isn’t a usual part of the morning routine you’ve established, you welcome the variation.

you run your hands through bruce’s hair and watch his chest rhythmically rise and fall as he sleeps. you let him sleep as long as he seems to need to, which is much longer than you thought it’d be. you eventually drift off too, the sound of his quiet snoring lulling your eyes closed.

it’s not until late afternoon when you both wake up again, the thick curtains unable to hide the sliver of sunlight peering in.

“you let me sleep so late.” bruce sits up in bed.

“you seemed like you needed it.”

he leans down and kisses you then gets up and starts getting dressed.

“the weather is supposed to be nice today.” you sit up. “maybe we could go to the park.”

he looks at you and smiles.

“that would be nice.”

you get up and get dressed too.

“i’ll go ask alfred to pack us some lunch.”

“okay, sounds great.”

he gives you one more kiss before heading downstairs. you finish getting ready and grab your phone off the floor. a text from tim, your former coworker in california, sits in your notifications. he and his husband have adopted a young girl. you smile at the family photo he sent and reply with your congratulations. as you look at the message, you let your mind wander and start to think about the prospect. of course you know bruce would be an amazing parent. but you’re not sure if you’d be. or if that’s even what you want. your life is so perfect now and you don’t think you want any of it to change. at least not for a while.

you go downstairs and find bruce packing some sandwiches into a bag. he zips it up and looks at you.

“ready?” he asks.

“ready.”

you decide to walk to the park since it’s only a few blocks away. the sun sits on your skin like a warm blanket as you and bruce walk. the two of you sit by the pond under an oak and eat your late lunch. the sound of birds and ducks paired with the cool breeze rushing through the tree leaves make for a perfect spot. you and bruce lay down in the grass and kiss, your picnic site offering enough privacy that you don’t have to worry about people seeing you. it’s not as if either of you care anyway, really. you’re not trying to hide your relationship, and with bruce’s status it’d be nearly impossible to try. but you still try to avoid paparazzi when you can. you and bruce lie there in the park together until the sun sets slowly behind the hill.

“we should get going before it gets too dark.” bruce sits up.

“i suppose we should.”

bruce grabs the bag and holds your hand as you make your way back home. night falls quickly as you walk. with only a couple blocks to go, you hear a commotion up ahead in an alleyway. sounds of a fight echo down the street. bruce stops walking and lets go of your hand.

“stay here a second.” he hands the bag to you and starts walking toward the source of the sounds.

“wait, shouldn’t we call the police or something first? or maybe we just wait for the batman to come and take care of it. you shouldn’t go down there by yourself.”

“you can call the police.” he continues.

you let out an exasperated sigh and watch bruce turn the corner. you press the numbers 911 into your phone. you finger is just about to click the green button when a strong hand covers your mouth and drags you backwards. you scream into the glove as loud as you can but the fight drowns out your attempts at getting bruce’s attention. all you can do is move around as much as possible to try and shake this person off you but they tighten their grip and then you’re being pushed into the back of a van.

three other people are inside and they grab you. you feel the rope burn your wrists as they tie your hands together behind your back. your throat already feels like it’s being torn apart from screaming. one person spreads a strip of duct tape over your open mouth but you still try to scream for bruce. suddenly a sharp pain strikes the back of your head. the tears have been blurring your vision but now everything is even fuzzier. you let out one more sob before the pipe hits you again and everything goes black.

pain.

that’s the first thing you feel when you finally come to. that’s the only thing you feel. a throbbing, deep pain throughout your entire body like you were just spit out of a cement mixer. you’re hands are still tied behind you and your ankles are stuck to the legs of a metal chair.

you force your eyes open, but everything is still dark. have you gone blind? is your sight gone? where are you? who took you? why can’t you move? you cant see you can’t move you can’t breathe you can’t hear you’re hurting you’re crying you’re screaming you’re shaking you—

the sound of a heavy door swinging open makes you freeze. strong footsteps slowly get louder and louder, closer and closer. the footsteps stop behind you and then you’re assaulted by a harsh bright light. it was a hood over your head, and the figure has now taken it off. the footsteps make their way around you and he stops in front of the chair you’re tied to, his back toward you. your breath shakes as he just stands there, staring straight ahead.

then he starts… crying? his shoulders shake and he gets louder. no… he’s laughing. he slowly turns around to face you, his red painted on smile sending a chill down your spine.

he bends down so his face is level with yours, your noses so close they nearly touch.

“good morning sweetheart.”

the tears continue streaming down your face as he straitens back up and turns, walking toward a table against the wall in front of you. he stops at it and slowly picks up an almost comically large knife.

you sob at the sight of the weapon, knowing it’s intended for you.

“i have a problem.”

he sets the knife back on the table and turns, walking towards you. the door opens again and you see a man in a clown mask rush by and place a camera on a tripod in front of you. he presses a button and a red light comes on and flashes at you.

“a problem that can only be solved by you.”

you somehow find the strength to open your mouth and speak, the words coming out hoarse and quiet.

“…m—me?”

“yes. i am in need of some… capital. some dineros, some cold. hard. cash. now i know you’re dating ol’ brucie and i know he has some access to just a bit of money.” he walks around you and stands behind the chair. “so, brucie boy, from your friendly neighborhood joker, deposit some dolores for me in a safe and lock it up real tight. bring it to the chaplain bridge, in person, at midnight tonight along with the key and you’ll get to see your precious little babe once again.” he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks together.

“oh, silly me, i forgot to tell you how much! let’s see, oh, how about, $50 million. that seems fair enough, don’t ya think?!”

he bends down so his face is next to yours.

“isn’t 50 million enough to save the life of your dearly beloved?”

he pulls something out of his pocket. you feel the cold barrel of a gun press against your temple and let out a sob.

he pulls the gun off your head, still pointing it at you.

*click*

you scream and jolt away. terror runs through your body like electricity.

you look over and he’s still staring at you with the gun pointed in your direction. out of the barrel popped out a banner, with the word BANG! on it. he turns back to the camera and waves.

“see ya tonight.” his tone is sinister and he laughs again.

the man in the mask flips the camera off. he tosses the gun behind his back and it clacks as it hits the concrete. he claps his hands together.

“so! now’s all that’s left to do is sit by, hang tight, let loose, and wait for midnight!” he laughs again and he and the other man leave the room with the camera. the clang of the door closing echoes throughout the room as you sit there alone.

you let out an ear-piercing, guttural scream and continue sobbing. all you want is bruce. you call for him, over and over, hoping by some miracle he’ll hear you through the thick concrete walls. you keep screaming, so hard and so loud that you vomit. now bile covers the front of your shirt and tears cover your face.

the echo of the door rings through the room again and fast footsteps approach. another man in a clown mask with a syringe in his hand unties your arms. before you let him stab the needle in, you punch him in the throat as hard as you can muster. he gags at the blow at stumbles backwards, dropping the syringe. you lean to try and grab it and the chair you’re tied to tips over onto the floor. your face slams into the concrete and you hear a crunch in your nose. you cry out and now all you see is red. you fight through the pain and reach for the syringe. it’s right there, just centimeters away, when a large boot stomps on your hand, surely breaking multiple bones. you scream in pain as the chair is reset upright. you scream and sob as the men grab your arm and stab the now-dirty needle in your vein. you keep crying, but as the seconds go by, you hear yourself getting quieter. the room around you spins in slow motion as your eyelids get heavy. the last thing you see is the joker’s white face and red smile.

your eyes slowly flutter open again. you didn’t know this was even possible, but somehow you wake up in even more pain than before. the joker is still standing there in front of you. smiling. laughing.

“you’re spunky. i like you.”

you all but growl at him as he walks toward that table in the corner, picking the knife up again.

“i thought you’d be asleep until our appointment with good ol’ bruce but the tranq must have been watered down!” he turns to you and laughs.

he carries the knife as he walks toward you.

“at least now we can have a little fun!” he takes the knife and you close your eyes, preparing yourself for the pain. but instead you feel the rope around your wrists and ankles fall.

“what’s say we play a game, hmm? i’m gonna bring in three of my best boys. and the longer you can stay upright and fighting, the more likely i’ll be to not kill you and your dear dear bruce tonight.”

the door opens again and three sets of footsteps walk in behind you.

you just stay sitting in the chair. how are you supposed to fight these huge men?

the joker sighs.

“if you’re gonna be a party pooper, then i guess we’ll have to find another game to play. maybe… target practice?” he throws the knife above your head and it hits one of the three men square in the chest. he falls backwards. dead.

you gasp and try to hold back tears as the joker just laughs.

“guess i do need some practice… i was aiming for his head! haha!” he buckles over in laughter again as you try to catch your breath.

“well good news now is you only have to outlast two goons!”

you slowly stand up, not wanting the next knife to land in your sternum. one of the men walk over to you. the joker takes the gun from before out of his pocket and holds it up above his head.

“ready? fight!” he pulls the trigger with a click.

a huge fist comes flying at your face and makes contact with your cheek. you fall to the ground in pain. he kicks you in the stomach and you just stay there, laying on the ground. he stomps on your chest, your stomach, your head. all you feel is blow after blow. the joker is just laughing at your misery.

you feel a rush of adrenaline run through you and you growl in anger. when the next stomp comes toward you, you grab the booted foot and yank as hard as you can, bringing the man to the ground. you’re surprised you had the strength to do that. you quickly stand back up and kick him in the face, breaking his nose too. you kick him in the crotch and he screams. you sit on top of his chest and punch him with your unbroken hand. over and over and over. all you hear is the sound of the joker’s maniacal laugh and your own grunts as you beat the guy’s face in until he no longer resembles even a man. finally you stop, feeling proud of your strength but guilty for your brutality.

before you can get up from sitting on him, the other man is picking you up and slamming you into the concrete. your shoulder hits the ground hard and you scream. he picks you up again and throws you back first, your head colliding with the concrete so hard you’re sure they’ve both cracked. he grabs the front of your shirt and lifts you up. your body goes limp from exhaustion and he forcefully sits you back on the chair. he punches your face. one. two. three. four. five. six. times then he finally walks away. your vision is blurred and you’re seeing colorful stars flash all around you. you look down and see blood dripping down from your face and onto your lap. the joker just laughs again.

“well, you fought off one! bravo! of course that means only one of you will die tonight. shame. lovers dying together is the sweetest ending of all. romeo and juliet… swan lake… the notebook...” he pretends to wipe a tear. “but oh well. at least now you get to pick who dies! haha!”

“me.” you immediately answer. “kill me. not him.”

“awww how noble! sacrificing yourself for the love of your life, it’s a beautiful thing! very well. you’ll be the one to die.” he takes out a pocket watch. “my oh my look at that! it’s showtime, baby!”

you get tied up again and dragged out of the room. the hood is placed back on your head before exiting, and you’re thrown back into a van. the drive is longer than you expected. how far out of town were you?

the van stops after what you guess was about a half hour long drive.

you’re dragged back out of the van and onto the street. the hood is removed and the joker is gripping your neck and leading you onto the bridge.

you make it to the middle and he shoves you to the ground. you only now notice the gun in his hand.

“oh bru-uce! show me the money, baby!”

his voice echos across the water under the bridge and you wait. you hope he doesn’t come. you hope he’s decided to let the police handle it. you hope he didn’t choose to risk his life for you. because although the joker assured you that you’d be the one to die, you obviously can’t trust that he won’t pull the trigger on bruce too.

“come out come out, wherever you are!” the joker yells in a singsongy voice. “well isn’t this a disappointment! at least it was gonna be fun to kill you. now i almost can’t even enjoy it.” he points the gun in the center of your forehead. you close your eyes and let yourself cry.

you picture bruce’s face. flashbacks of when you first met him come to mind and you go through it all. you think of his smile, how it was crooked and always made you smile back. you think of his hair, how it was always just a little tussled and never quite laid flat. you think of his skin, how it was warm and how it felt against yours. you think of his laugh, how it can at times feel rare but when you hear it, it’s like the world stops. you think of his eyes, how they’d glow like warm honey when the sunlight hit them just right. tears stream as you think of every part of him. how you wish you’d spent more time memorizing him.

you hear the cocking of the gun and you gasp. you only now realize how afraid you are to die.

suddenly a loud clang behind you startles your eyes open and the joker stumbles backward. a large, dark figure comes swooping in and tackles the joker to the ground. the gun is kicked away and you watch as the batman punches the joker in the face, repeatedly. the men from the van come rushing in and the batman takes each one down with little effort.

soon, he’s standing in the lowlight of the bridge, looming over the bodies of his victims of vengeance. he walks back over to the joker and picks him up by his collar and holds him over the bridge above the water. the joker laughs.

“well then what’s it gonna be batty-boy?! you gonna kill me?! do it!”

the batman hesitates to drop him into the rough rushing river water below.

“do it!” the joker laughs in his face again.

you see the shine of red and blue lights flashing behind you and hear sirens. the sound of many footsteps come rushing onto the bridge as officers take the bodies off the ground and into custody. a few more train their guns at the batman and instruct him to let the joker go. after some time, he flings the joker back over the railing and slams him onto the ground. the officers rush to handcuff the joker and the batman walks away, back toward you.

“this isn’t over, batman! it’ll never be over!” the joker laughs again as he’s dragged away by the officers.

the batman bends down behind you and unties the ropes around your wrists.

“are you okay?” he asks, quietly. his low, gravely voice tinges with familiarity.

you just nod and he scoops you up and carries you to the ambulance. he gently sits you on the gurney and the paramedics begin treating your wounds and setting up an iv. the batman just stands there and watches, as if to make sure you’ll really be okay. you stare back at him, trying to place this strange gut feeling. the medics walk away for a moment to grab something else, leaving you and the batman there, just looking at each other.

the medics come back and start to bring you into the ambulance. up until the moment the doors close, you and the batman just continue staring. the medicine you’ve been given starts to work as you feel your eyelids get heavy. your last thought before passing out is of bruce.

the tubes in your nose and the cast on your arm are the first things you notice when you awake. your eyes adjust to the light of the hospital room and you look around, your eyes landing on an unexpected face.

tim is there, sitting by the window sleeping. alfred is in a chair next to him. he notices you’re awake and presses the alert for the nurse.

“hello, dear.”

“alfred…”

“i’ve called for the nurse. just relax.”

“…where’s bruce.”

“he… had to go to the police station. to finish up the case.”

“but he’s okay?”

“physically, yes. but i don’t think i’ve ever seen him so distraught. i’ll call him now and tell him you’re awake. he’ll want to see you.” alfred leaves the room and you see him dial his phone.

the nurse comes in and checks your vitals, making sure you’re getting enough medicine. you have a concussion, a broken hand, your shoulder was out of socket, and your nose had to be realigned. apparently it’s been days since the incident.

the joker is in custody at arkham, but that’s doesn’t give you much reassurance since he apparently has broken out of there before.

tim wakes up and walks over to you with tears streaming down his face.

“are you okay?” he asks.

“just peachy.”

he laughs lightly and wipes a tear away.

“i was so scared.”

“me too.”

“but you’re gonna be okay now. you’re okay now.” he reassures himself. you didn’t know you meant so much to him.

“thank you tim.”

he smiles softly.

“i should go call chris and let him know you’re okay.“

“okay.”

tim walks out of the room as alfred comes back in.

“bruce will be here soon.”

“thank you. i’m glad you’re here alfred.”

“of course, love.”

tim comes back in and says that chris sends his regards.

“he’s been worried sick, watching the news while also taking care of the baby.”

“if you need to go tim, go. i understand.”

“im sorry i can’t stay.”

“really tim, it’s okay. thank you for being here.”

tim smiles and holds your good hand.

“i’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“thank you.” you smile back at him and he leaves.

alfred moves the chair to be closer to your bed and he holds your hand as you wait in silence for bruce.

bruce comes rushing in wet from the rain with tears in his eyes. alfred gets up from the chair and gives it to bruce. bruce sits in the chair, holding your hand, and the two of you just sit there together.

you’ve never felt fear like that before. of course you were afraid when your mother died, but you were so young. and your father was sick for a long time before he passed, so this crippling feeling of terror was something you’ve never had to experience before and something you hope you’ll never experience again.

“i’m so sorry.” bruce fights back tears. “i should’ve never left you alone. i should’ve known better. i thought i was protecting you but really i just put you in danger. this is all my fault.”

“no it’s not.”

“it is.”

“no, bruce. it’s not.”

“i was just so… angry. at him. i still am. i really thought i was going to kill him.”

you furrow your brows in confusion.

“you mean… like… if you’d have been there? at the bridge?”

you notice alfred looks up at bruce with a curious look on his face. bruce turns his head to look back at him. alfred just nods.

you look at both of them, perplexed by this silent agreement between them.

“what’s going on?”

“there’s something you need to know… about me.”

“okay…?”

“i… i’ll show you when we get back home.”

“alright.”

bruce and alfred clear you with the doctor and confirm that you’re ready to leave so you get in the car to go home. you just lay in the backseat with your head on bruce’s lap. he runs his hand through your hair as alfred drives you all home.

the press is already there, ready to get a statement from you and bruce about the whole ordeal. of course you and bruce don’t say a word as he carries you inside.

he sets you down on the couch and lights a fire. alfred goes to the kitchen to make you something to eat. you lay on bruce’s chest on the sofa, watching the flames rise and fall. the heat of the fire brings you comfort, but bruce’s warm touch makes you feel at peace for the first time since that day at the park.

hours go by, the fire has become just a few orange embers, and you and bruce have eaten dinner. you suddenly remember what bruce said back at the hospital.

“what is it you wanted to tell me?”

bruce sighs and helps you up off the couch.

“i need to show you something.”

you slowly walk hand in hand to the library down the hall. you don’t come in here much but you know bruce and alfred do.

bruce goes to a wall in the back and pulls a book off the shelf. you hear a click and he pulls the wall out, revealing it’s a door to an elevator.

“what the fuck…”

bruce opens the elevator door and leads you inside.

“what is this?”

“something you need to see.”

the elevator slowly brings you down to a lower level you didn’t even know existed. bruce opens the door and leads you out of the elevator and into a basement. or at least what you think is a basement. inside, you see computers, televisions, and other tech items around. a motorcycle sits there too… along with a familiar-looking car. bruce lets you wander through the area. you try to absorb what this all is.

“what exactly am i looking at here, bruce?”

he walks over to a door and opens it to a closet. what’s inside, sitting on the shelf, makes you gasp. you slowly pick up the mask.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you.”

“why… how…”

“i’ve been doing this for years now. i just… this is how im able to try and help. only alfred knows.”

“and you couldn’t tell me? why?”

“everyone who knows about this is in danger. i couldn’t knowingly do that to you. but you deserve to know.”

“i… don’t even know what to say.”

bruce closes the closet door.

“i come down here every night. that’s why i’ve been gone so early in the morning. i’ve known about joker for a while and have been trying to track his whereabouts.”

“but now, he’s locked up. he’s gone.”

“as long as he’s alive, he’s a danger. and it’s not just him. you’ve lived here your whole life. you know what these streets are like.”

you just nod.

“so… this is what you do every night. you go out, after i fall asleep then return before i wake up.”

“i try. but some nights are longer than others.” bruce walks up to you and holds your hand. “but now you know.”

you just nod again, not quite knowing what to say.

“i will never forgive myself for leaving you alone that night, and i will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”

you look up at him. a tear rolls down his cheek and you wipe it away, leaving your hand on his face.

“i was so afraid of losing you.” he speaks barely above a whisper.

“you’re not gonna lose me. i’m here. i’ll always be here.”

he kisses you. in this room, this room that’s been kept a secret from you. this other side of bruce that’s been kept a secret from you. you want to be angry, but all you feel now is peace as he holds you in his arms.

whatever future may come, whatever troubles you will inevitably be forced to face, you know that you’ll now be able to do it together.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

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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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bye-bye-sunbird · 2 years

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Theres no doubt in my mind Capitano is well-known man throughout Teyvat, and should his name not be as recognizable as his comrades, he should be known enough to have built up a sizeable list of enemies. So this rises the question, how would he feel if his darling was stolen away from him?

I can imagine it now, It was a plan so meticulously crafted down to the very last dot. His enemies have no limits in taking this behemoth down, perhaps they'd studied the dove long enough to know they like to sit in their shared garden, seemingly less supervised. Or maybe they watched long enough to know that they're weakened by the sounds of wounded animals and just has to answer the calls of an injured bird or fox. No matter the situation, by some miracle, they've been stolen away.

And it makes me wonder, which of darling's captors will live longest to see their brethren ripped to absolute shreds?

WARNING: Under the cut is a graphic depiction of violence, murder, and body horror (not against the reader)

He is used to what true fear looks like.

He grabbed one man's head and squeezed. It deformed easily as if it were nothing but a boiled apple. Of all the terrible screams that ever fell on mortal ears, none could surpass that man's animalistic cry. As soon as he releases his grip, the corpse falls to the ground, its warm blood gushing from his eyes and ears.

The rest of them tried to run away and were seen squeezing and crushing each other in their eagerness to flee, running frantically with faces horribly contorted by the fear that devoured them. Not one would manage to escape him. Capitano loomed over them, his great sword a giant in the dark that drew red patterns against the far moon as he swung.

"Y-you... you tried to warn us."

The man appointed to be your guard had curled up against the door when he heard the screams and the horrid sounds of blood and guts spilling everywhere. But the dreadful silence that followed is what droves him half-mad by terror.

He crawls towards you, unable to stand due to the tremors on his legs.

"Please... please stop him, t-tell him... tell him I never harmed you."

You look at him with pity, tears running down your face, and barely manage to whisper: "He won't listen to me."

Slow, heavy steps are heard outside.

The man nods shakenly, the impossibility of his request heaving down on his shoulders, and, coming to terms with his fate, takes your hands to his temple.

"... Will you pray for me?"

#the capitano agenda #yandere capitano x reader #capitano x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere harbingers #yandere fatui harbingers #tw: violence #tw: graphic depictions of violence #tw: murder #tw: body horror #anon ask

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wayward-sherlock · 7 months

Text

goodbye stranger.

They’d already made it to the end of the world. There was no point in waiting, not anymore — Will was almost certain that if he waited any longer, the words he wanted to say would be his dying ones, melting on his lips with warm blood and his last breath.

Will loved Mike.

And now he was going to kill him.

will's been taken by vecna. he's killed mike hundreds of times, and he has no idea which one is going to be real.

for @bylerween2023 day 4!

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odysseussolar · 4 months

Text

I caved.

Writing it right now, the first chapter has zero gore but that will be changing in the next few chapters, trust 🙏🏾

I did link the post by tooncraze on the fic

#trolls #trolls fanfic #tw: graphic depictions of violence #warning y’all now #dark trolls fanfic #kinda scary #this is so interesting #trolls alternate universe #branch is a cannibal #cannibal branch au

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barryallenhotpants · 5 months

Text

Dark! Reader x Dark! Rafe Cameron x Dark! JJ Maybank

READ TAGS

In which reader gets her revenge after being SA at a bonfire party. She likes it a little too much and JJ doesn’t know what to do about it, but Rafe does. Debating on turn in it into a series.

And in your carnage, you grinned. Taking in JJ’s creased brow and slack jaw.

“What?” You purred, tilting your head. “Never seen a girl kill a man?” You felt good. You felt strong. His blood had splattered across your face and you could still feel him on your tongue. You could still taste him in your throat.

The knife plunged into his body once more, the broken and bloodied carcass shaking from the the force.

Once. Twice. Three times. You kept going, but it wasn’t enough. You would stab him for each time he took you. It would never be enough.

There was nothing left, just a cosmic void that rendered you lifeless. No, you were above life. As if you were a ghost, you floated above the scene. You felt as if you were only watching, not participating in the vengeance against your captor.

Before you could land another blow, JJ’s hand wrapped around your wrist, gently. He pulled you back, against his chest; caged in by strong thighs.

“Y/N, that’s enough. It’s over. You did it. He’s dead.” JJ sounded desperate, broken. You let out a humorless chuckle as you allowed him to hold onto you, his head buried in the crook of you neck and shoulder.

“No, it’s not enough, JJ.” You spat the words out, gazing venomously over at the unmoving body. He died too soon, too fast. You hadn’t been able to enjoy it. You didn’t get to relish in his screams. The same screams he had pulled from you every night. Every morning. Every day.

“It was too quick.” You stated, emotionless. Your head lolled against JJ’s broad shoulder as you peered at his disturbed expression. He looked sick, his cerulean orbs glossed over with black. You snorted. JJ remained silent as he held you. What could he do? What would he do?

You found yourself not caring, flashing back to the memories of bloodshed. Your pulse raced with excitement. It’s the first thing you had felt in months.

JJ’s silence was deafening. You groaned, almost feeling defeated. You were foolish to expect more. He had come to save you after all. You had expected retribution, but was met with a sinking disappointment when all he did was punch the bastard, repeatedly. He could have at least bludgeoned his face before you got your hands on him.

What he lacked in passion JJ tried to make up for in comfort. As if holding you would make it all go away.

You felt as if you wanted to crawl out of your skin. You didn’t want comfort, you wanted action.

You broke free from JJ’s hold and stood up, feeling relieved to have your feet back in solid ground.

“We need to discard the body.” You uttered, matter-of-fact. You felt detached, emotionless as you began to flit around the crime scene, taking mental notes on what you would need to do to get rid of all the evidence.

“Y/N.” JJ whispered. You crouched over the decaying carcass of your rapist, muttering a quick, “Hmm?”, in response to JJ.

JJ bristled, stalking toward you and grabbing your arm, forcing you up. Your blank gaze traveled up to his uneasy glare.

“You need to stop.” He declared. You shook your head.

“There’s no time to stop,” you started, “ we need to get rid of the evidence.” You tried to bend back down to the body to prepare it for transport, but JJ’s grip on your arm steeled. You nearly growled as you squared your stance, the hairs of your arms standing on edge. Why was he stopping you? He was supposed to help you. He said he would help you.

“You need to turn yourself in.” He stated, his stance clear. You felt betrayed.

“I need to turn myself in? What the fuck, JJ? You suddenly side with rapists?” Your harsh statement shocked him, his grip on your arm loosening. You yanked your arm out of his grasp and barred your teeth.

“You said I only needed you.” The vulnerability of your statement made you feel weak. He promised you. He said he would be there for you. He said you didn’t need anyone but him. He lied.

JJ sighed, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. He was stressed.

“We’ll say it was self defense.” He insisted, stepping forward and attempting to reach for you. You recoiled away from him, disgust etching onto your features. You opened your mouth to retaliate when a voice cut through the darkness.

“Self defense isn’t going to cut it, blondie,” the harsh voice in the dark declared. Relief flooded your body. Rafe.

His lithe form came into view as he cleared the tree line, aimed in a beeline toward you and JJ. JJ grew tense and moved to step in front of you, but once again, you stepped away.

Rafe sauntered towards you and tucked a finger underneath your chin, tilting your gaze up to him as warm breath fanned over your face.

“She did quite a number on him,” Rafe whispered, crowding your space as he leered over you. You melted into his touch, your head careening to take in more of him.

“As she should. The bastard deserved more.” He finished, blue eyes drinking you in. He looked proud. You sniffed and thanked whatever God might be out there.

Your savior had returned.

JJ bristled, inching toward you slowly and placed a gentle hand over your elbow, tugging you softly in his direction.

“Y/N, let’s go. It’s not too late.” He said, his eyes fixing on Rafe with the king of hatred that Pogues reserved only for Kooks. It ran deeper than that though and you knew it. JJ wanted to do what he felt was the right thing. You were scaring him. He thought you were a monster.

Something swelled within you as you harshly elbowed him away. JJ stumbled and looked at you with a shocked expression. You parted from Rafe and edged toward JJ’s retreating form.

“No.” You snarled, pushing at his chest.

“You go. I’ll finish what I started and Rafe will make it all go away. He’ll be everything you’re not.” You could tell your statement elicited a certain kind of pride from Rafe, hearing him chortle in JJ’s direction.

“Run off and be a good boy, yeah Maybank? You wouldn’t rat out Y/N would you? Don’t you love her?” Rafe taunted, shuffling forward to stand behind you, strong hands gripping your hips as he pulled you taut against him.

You let out a lewd moan as Rafe tucked your hair over one shoulder, his tongue flicking out to lick the slender column of your neck. Lapping up the flecks of blood that had scattered there, painting you in a shade of red that you’re sure stoked his need. You could feel his arousal against your lower back. Hard and wanting. Your own arousal pooling in your belly like a coil.

JJ blubbered and regarded you, taking Rafe’s affection with a certain calmness. His face hardened as he realized that you were too far gone.

He shook his head- a promise laid out in the action. He wouldn’t tell. Of course he wouldn’t, he loved you. At least whatever pathetic and discordant version of love he reserved for you. It was the kind that made figure eight girls hearts flutter. The kind that promised bonfires and easy nights at the chateau; it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be.

Rafe nipped at your skin as you fully relaxed against him, his arms moving to cage you in fully, wrapped over your waist in an action that shouted mine.

You spared JJ a glance over hooded eyes.

“He’s all I need, J. All I will ever need. Only him.” You admitted. It was both a confession and a promise. You’d never stray from him again, never run away from how you feel. How he made you feel; powerful, beautiful, and perfect, like you were made only for him. And he, only for you.

Tears streamed down JJ’s face as he bowed his head and walked away, fleeing for the safety of the trees.

Whatever disappointment you felt melted away, Rafe’s fingers skimmed over your jaw as he cupped his lips against yours.

The kiss was searing and bruising. Fire flushed through your veins as you tugged on the lapels of his sport coat, coaxing him further into you. Your teeth clashed together as you fought to consume one another.

He separated from you suddenly, clenching your throat in a vice like grip.

“Who do you need?” He rasped, pupils blown with lust as he stared into your soul.

“You.” You careened, moaning from the pressure against your windpipe. You were soaked, you could feel your slick on your thighs even through your thick pair of jeans.

“Who else?” He pressed, ghosting his lips over yours, his large hand still wrapped tightly around your throat.

You leaned into him as your hand overlapped his, pushing his hold around you, tighter.

“No one.” You answered breathlessly. Your whole body quivered with the truth. No one could satisfy you like him. No one knew you, like him. No one could love you, like him.

His nose nudged against your cheek affectionately.

“That’s a good girl.” He praised, turning your body toward the masterpiece you had created.

“My good girl,” he crooned. He let you grab his his hand as you led him to the lifeless and shriveled body of your assaulter.

“Let’s get started.” You chimed, excitement fluttering your senses. Rafe stopped your advance toward your project with a hand in your wrist.

“Let’s string him up, doll.” He offered, eyes searching yours eagerly.

Elated you nodded your head, dropping down to slip your hands underneath the assailant’s tattered and bruised body.

You sent Rafe an affectionate gaze as he bent to grab hold of the body’s feet.

“I want to show the world what happens to someone that tries to take what isn’t theirs.” You state, confidence swirling in your chest as Rafe shot you a wolfish grin.

“Let’s finish the beautiful work you started, sweetheart. Show them what happens when bad men try to pray on strong, godly women.”

Your chest blossomed with an overwhelming sense of love. It was almost painful what you felt for Rafe Cameron. He was your co-conspirator.

Your savior.

#dark!rafe cameron #dark! JJ Maybank #dark! reader #bloodletting #mentions of sa #tw knives #tw dark content #graphic depictions of violence #mention of noncon

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cinderspots · 4 months

Text

UNHOLY

CHAPTER ONE

Lebkuchen is cursed.

A LGTS Vampire AU! Brought to you by brainrot! READ THE TAGS!!!!!

#cinderwrites #fanfiction #little goody two shoes #lebkuchen #Elise #leblise #vampire #psychological horror #graphic depictions of violence #graphic depictions of death #tw blood #look at me. this will get very intense.

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urarakasdiary · 2 years

Text

yandere!kokushibo x reader x yandere!yoriichi

please leave a like if u enjoy this story! really motivates and helps me to grow my account and content! enjoy 💗

you couldn't believe the news at first- your husband turned into a demon, he was strong and he would never agree to be a demon at any cost!

you had such a lovely and loving family, including you, Kokushibo -your husband, your daughter, and your toddler son.

the children kept asking you about their father, you would tear up not knowing what to say. Most importantly what to say to your 3-year-old son who barely got to bond with his father. and now, he was gone.

Kokushibo's brother Yoriichi was utterly upset when he heard the news, more upset when he found out about the widow he left behind, along with the 2 children.

He wanted to meet his brother's poor family but he never had the time to. Coincidentally, the day after the event took place he had to go on a rather easy mission in the same town as you and your family.

he was beyond astonished to go there.

when he arrived at the house he was so flattered by your beauty and maturity

he was proud that his brother picked someone like you and shocked at how he managed to find someone so perfect as you

you were so polite even offering to wash the clothes where demon blood had been scattered, so rich in energy but calm at the same time

never the less he was obsessed over you, he wanted to feel everything from you, love, lust, hate everything in the name.

Yoriichi sent out a special request to the demon slayer corp that he wanted to stay here longer because there were "too many demons" around here and that the people in town were in danger.

of course, the corp was hesitant at first but when he reported seeing an upper moon they quickly agreed. it was always better to be safe than sorry.

Yoriichi, even though he made a lie about seeing an upper moon, it was actually true- the most powerful moon was here- upper moon 1.

Kokushibo was here. he remembered everything- every single little detail of his life as a human. most importantly you and his small little family.

He saw how Yoriichi was always latching onto you- he was fuming with anger and jealousy why did Yoriichi always have the best? why the fuck does he have to ruin his life?

back at the house, you were growing quite fond of Yoriichi, he was a really sweet gentleman, he was super kind and protective over you. probably because of all that has happened to his dear brother you and the children were the only things left by his brother and he wanted to protect them at all cost, well, that's what you thought at least.

In reality, he was happy his brother was gone, he could have you, feel what he felt with you, he was over the moon.

over time, you grew a strong attachment towards him and a crush as one might say.

when he demanded he wanted to go back to his own house, you were so upset at a point where tears would threaten to spill your eyes. he liked seeing you desperate for him to stay close by so of course he agreed.

while you and Yoriichi were having your sweet-sweet time together Kokushibo was pissed- so fucking pissed.

why the hell were you hanging out with him.

Kokushibo went too close to the house, and now Yoriichi could smell him, Yoriichi and you were having dinner when he suddenly started choking. why the hell was Kokushibo here? he's so fucked because Kokushibo knows.

Kokushibo's last straw was when he saw you hugging Yoriichi for comfort. that's fucking it. He knew for sure he was gonna beat Yoriichi's ass today.

as soon as nightfall came Kokushibo broke into the house, he didn't give a flying fuck that his brother was stronger than him.

Yoriichi and you were talking to each other so peacefully. it made kokushibo's blood boil.

as soon as Yoriichi noticed Kokushibo there was an epic battle scene

while fighting they were talking about something you couldn't hear due to the intense fighting.

you recognized who Yoriichi was fighting. Kokushibo. You instantly started balling your eyes out.

the men noticed this. staring at each other before quickly flashing their way to you, both of them stood at the opposite side of you.

all you knew was these two grow ass strong men were pulling your arms from opposite directions screaming "LET GO! SHE'S MINE"

it hurt so bad you screamed at them to stop, but they were too busy arguing

you felt the skin in your shoulders ripping. what the actual fuck where these shitheads doing. before you knew both of the men pulled you to their side so hard that your body spilt in half. literally. they saw your horrified face which once gave such a gentle smile.

blood was everywhere, this was the most vicious scene ever just the mention of it would make anyone puke. human organs were everywhere.

the men looked at each other disgusted at what they had done.

"Mommy?" came in the 2 children

"i-im sorry," said Kokushibo and Yoriichi

the poor children. poor you. you didn't deserve this. Yoriichi nor Kokushibo forgave themselves for this and they never would.

the children, at last, became demons themselves, trying to seek revenge on their so-called father and their uncle. once they succeeded they killed themselves too. not wanting to live this awful life anymore.

#kny x y/n #yandere kny #yandere blog #tw yandere #tw graphic depictions of violence #yandere x reader #yandere kokushibo #yandere yoriichi #yandere kokushibo x reader x yandere yoriichi #yandere headcanons #demon slayer #graphic death tw

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morganlefaye79 · 7 months

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I was tagged by @wanderingaldecaldo . Thank you so much for the tag and make me share something. 💜💛

I started a new run for Cyberpunk with Val in v2.01 and try to get my lighting, raytracing and ReShade back to what it was before, so I do many shots at the moment just to test things.

I summoned the "vigilante" ( I use a reskin from AMM because I don't like the open hood) and this happened. I (affectionately) call this car roach now. ( I tested raytracing on the car paint)

Val is having a breather in Reconsiliation Park. (I tested the fall of sunlight on surfaces and clothing and also a few ReShade filters)

I love when it rains in NC, but I need to tinker with the rain still to make it more visible in shots. (yes I know there's a mod, but I want to see how far I can get without it)

I was tinkering with sharpening tools and dof, to have the structures of the clothes in front sharp, but not e.g. the faces bc it looks "too much".

How much saturation is too much, mama Welles?

Increase the sharpness on faces without being unrealistic.

This disapproving Johnny you get as a treat.

And since I'm bored ( I'm certainly not, my workload atm is horrible) I also started a Halloween fic at the start of October, which isn't finished yet, but I try to get it to y'all asap 😅

TW graphic depiction of violence TW blood There were two other guards outside that were alerted now. They each had a shigure and started shooting at Val. The bullets hit his body, but they just left faint scratches, nothing more, and when the guards realized that they couldn’t kill him, they tried to leg it but weren’t fast enough. Val made just one forced jump and landed on them. One of his hind legs on one of their backs. Val was now hungry for blood and bit the throat of the first one while crushing the other one's skull on the pavement. The blood made him rage. He finally turned into the monster that legends told about lycanthropes. It made him more powerful and dangerous. When he looked down on the one he had bitten, he felt nothing other than the urge to do it again.

So that's what I'm wasting my time with. (affectionate)

Tags are under the cut.

@dreamskug @wraithsoutlaws @vox-monstera @faepunkprince @a-pirate @maimaiapologist @ghostoffuturespast @gloryride @dustymagpie @jaymber @fereldanwench @genocidalfetus @cinnamon-mey @katsigian @chevvy-yates @kittenchrissy @sammysilverdyne @rindemption @imaginarycyberpunk2023 @kharonion @neonbutchery

#wip wednesday #cyberpunk 2077 #oc: Valaire Dercks #johnny silverhand #rogue amendiares #mama welles #tw graphic depiction of violence #tw blood #for the snippet

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y0url0verb0y · 1 month

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"You have your father's eyes"

Quick micro fic based on a comment from this post I made. Thank you sm for the idea, @gods-graveyard

Barty looks up into the mirror, the reflection staring back at him one he despises. He looks so much like his father, too much like his father. He bows his head staring down at the sink, he can't bear to look anymore. It's so unfair that he holds so much resemblance to the cruel man, his mother's features but a ghost on him.

He looks up, head still down towards the sink but he's looking in the mirror once more. He's staring into the reflection of his eyes, the most vile colour of brown stares back at him. He winces, gripping the sink 'till his knuckles turn white to refrain from punching the mirror. He wants to claw his own eyes out and squeeze them 'till the pop.

He thinks about Evan's eyes, so unique and alluring. One a beautifully light jade green and the other a soft baby blue. Both colors he's come to favor over the years. When he looks into Evan's eyes he feels serenity, his personal safety. However, when he looks into the reflection of his own, he feels unease, it makes him physically ill.

Before he can even think he slams his head into the mirror, the glass immediately shattering upon impact. The glass pokes into his skin, blood falling down his face into the sink. He curses at the sting, yet the pain is relaxing in a way.

He takes a second to calm himself, knowing he'll have to go meet Evan soon. He turns on the sink letting the chilling water run over his hands. He cups his hands letting them fill with water soon splashing it onto his face. He lets out a short breath feeling content enough, then reaches into his back pocket for his wand. Grabbing it out he points it at the mirror first to fix it with a quick "reparo." Then he cleans up his wounds, quickly missing the sting. Finally, he points the wand at each of his eyes individually using "colovaria" to change the colour from a vile brown to a striking green.

He never wants to hear, "You have your father's eyes," again.

#marauders #marauders harry potter #barty crouch jr #angst #reese writes #graphic depictions of violence #mention of blood #tw sh destructive behaviour #he slams his head into a mirror #barty crouch jr needs a hug #barty crouch sr sucks ass #evan rosier #rosekiller

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silverutahraptor · 4 months

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Asian Drama Tropes 2024—January

For the @asian-drama-tropes event 2024. I’ll be publishing one true drabble (100 words exactly) per month for the event :)

January | Prompt: Blood sworn siblings

“From this day on, we shall be as sisters. Our goal is to find peace between our Clans, and though we are not born on the same day, we hope to die on the same day. This we swear.” The words ring hollow in Madara’s mind as she chokes on blood. The sword piercing her chest feels like it’s burning. She, at least, had not come expecting to survive this fight. It seems Hashirama has forgotten even their oath, though; her face for once rivals her cursed brother’s in coldness. “Liar,” Madara sighs, and prays for the gods’ wrath on her friend.

#Asian-drama-tropes-2024 #January | blood sworn siblings #SilverUtahraptor #Naruto #fanfiction #Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara #TW: Graphic Depictions Of Violence #(just to be sure)#Drabble #raptor writes #naruto founders #HashiMada #uchiha madara #Senju Hashirama #my writing #the oath part is shamelessly stolen from romance of the three kingdoms

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vyuntspakhkite-l-darling · 25 days

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Hate, hate, hate

READ THE TAGS! This one is ugly :3

This needs cleaning up but honestly for something I whipped out in like an hour? I'm pretty happy with it. This kind of stuff... maybe I have a little too much fun writing it.

Arsioly stalked towards the old, rotten house. It was half-collapsed, covered in moss and plants, but looked just sturdy enough that a soldier could be hiding in there. The door refused to move much, and he had to squeeze himself through the opening, ducking his head under the bowed doorframe, watching and listening for any sign of a threat. All he saw was a weasel scurrying away through a hole in the sagging wall. Every one of his breaths, every rustle of leaves in the wind, every chirp of a bird had him on edge. A few more steps inside the humid shack, and he checked behind the door. All clear.

He sighed, lowering his knife and wiping his brow with the back of his wrist. Mildewy air clogged his nose, wood straining and creaking under his feet as he made his way back out, glancing around for any sign of his team, though he knew he was unlikely to see them until he went back to the rendezvous. This was a bigger area than they normally covered in one mission.

A click behind him got his attention.

Just as he turned and locked eyes with an imperialist not five paces away, a bullet zipped past his head. Heart pounding, he raised his knife again and launched at the lone soldier before they could get another shot in. He smashed his shoulder into their chest, forcing them tighter against the wall they’d been pressing themself up to to hide, rotten wood cracking under the force.

The soldier grunted and tried to get an angle for a shot, but Arsioly twisted and knocked the gun out of their grip. A flat palm slammed into the side of his face, and he stumbled back, a kick hitting his stomach before he could react.

Wheezing, he backpedaled, tensing against the onslaught of hits and lashing out with his own.

“Fuck–” the soldier hissed, glancing at the gash Arsioly had managed to make in their forearm.

He rushed at them, a glint of silver catching in his eye too late. Their uninjured arm had drawn their dagger, and now blood slicked the silver blade, and pain cracked along Arsioly’s side.

The forest was too quiet, his cry of pain and the heavy breathing of the imperialist lonely in the silence. Arsioly was used to fights where any of his squadmates could come and help him finish off something like this without breaking a sweat, but none of them were here now. He was on his own.

Full of fresh, sharp fear, Arsioly tackled the soldier to the ground in a thrashing mess of limbs, wrapping his hands around their neck and pressing his thumbs as hard as he could into their throat, hate and disgust rising up in his throat like vomit. He knew he should grab his knife and end them quickly. But he didn’t want to. Their nails dug into his arms, leaving tracks of blood. Hiccuping gasps left their parted lips as they tried to breathe, eyes wide and frenzied. They deserved this. For everything the imperialists had done, this was just a fraction of what Arsioly should put them through. He felt a rush of satisfaction. It ended quickly.

A flailing hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him down. He managed to keep his hold on their neck while his forehead met the collar of a uniform coat.

A burning pain seared across the right side of his head, accompanied by a sick noise of ripping and crunching.

He yanked his head back with a scream and let go of their neck, staring down at the chunk of flesh in their mouth. The pointed tip of his ear, his blood and cartilage trapped between the teeth of this scum. His hands were numb and cold. His ears rang. The soldier looked like they were in shock themself, sputtering and coughing blood onto the front of Arsioly’s shirt.

As soon as what had happened to him registered, he snarled, grabbing the front of their hair and bashing their head against the ground repeatedly. He wasn’t sure which one of them was screaming now, or if it was both. Blood rained around them, cries and sobs mingling with the crack of bone and the calls of birds fleeing the trees around them.

“Arsioly! Holy shit! Stop it, you got them, you got them!”

The world shifted as he was lugged off the twitching body. He blindly thrashed, trying to get back to it, and two sets of hands held him to the ground. They were talking to him. He didn’t care.

He wasn’t breathing right. He panted and coughed, gritting his teeth against the pain throbbing in his body, looking down, watching his chest rise and fall like a rabbit’s.

His eyes, stinging and fuzzy, looked from his hands, bits of hair and flesh and blood plastered to them, to the body laying in a position that mocked the one his teammates were holding him in. The top of their head was caved, sloughing in like the walls of the wrecked shack in the background. Blood and brain matter clung to the foliage around them. Arsioly turned his head just in time to retch onto the grass instead of himself.

There was a third set of hands now, familiar and grounding, cupping his cheeks. A shaking palm wiped his mouth for him, then held his head steady to inspect the damage to his ear.

“Visra,” he whined, “how bad is it?”

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Calm down.”

#tw: gore #tw: violence #tw: cannibalism (?) not really but there are body parts in people's mouths and that's the closest word I can thing of #tw: death #tw: graphic depictions of violence #tw: vomit #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #biting the bullet vld #writer #writerscommunity

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