#mention of maggots and blood and decay

[gummybugg]

"A Ten But..." Tag

Thank you very much to @writernopal for this tag! See what she wrote here!

Did I get too carried away with this tag? You be the judge. (warnings in the tags)

📺

“Lights, camera, action!” Someone yells from behind the fuchsia game show curtain. The words “A Ten, But…” flash on Your television screen in a neon, flower-power font that is reminiscent of one of those dating shows from the 60s. We hear the narrator announce, “Live from Jemmah’s basement…it’s the show A Ten, But…!” accompanied by applause and cheering from the “live studio audience.” As the words fade, we start to see our contestants on center stage. They are chained against their will to podiums graciously adorned with overly-saturated flowers. Surrounding them is a cream-colored set covered in retro flower print. Amidst the catchy music, a narrator announces our host: “…And here’s the star of the show, and our host, Clementine!” Our host makes his way to center stage with a microphone in hand, waving to the “audience.”

Clementine explains the rules of the game to the audience. Each contestant is competing for a chance to win the heart of You, the viewer. How lucky You are!

“Thank you, thank you! We are all so very glad to be here tonight…” Clementine turns to look at the contestants’ irritated faces. “Well, at least one of us is!” A laugh track backs him up. He paces around to each of the podiums to introduce our guests one by one: Jemmah, Silas, Dex, and Bianca. Each of their names flash on the screen next to their faces as we are introduced to each guest.

Jemmah, the goth witch who'd rather not be here. Silas, the cowboy demon, who has a penchant for personality quizzes and pretty witches. Dex, the bleeding skeleton who thinks this entire show is worse than the curse that turned him into a bloody bones. Bianca, the cyclops with a usually bubbly attitude, who is confused by it all yet wants to see how this pans out.

"Any questions, dear contestants?"

Jemmah hits her buzzer, alarming Clementine. “Can you get out of my house?”

Clementine adjusts his blond hair and flashes a Hollywood smile, “Ah-ah! Not yet, my love! First, we must complete the first rou—”

Silas smashes their buzzer with record speed, interrupting his spiel. “Oh, shit, my bad. There was a bug on the buzzer. It was really bugging me.” They giggle at their effortless pun and everyone rolls their eyes. A laugh track plays in the background out of Clementine’s control. He takes a deep breath to steady his growing temper. He’s beginning to question why he installed buzzers in the first place.

“Are there any more questions before we begin?” He asks. Much to his surprise, no one answers. They really don’t seem to be having as much fun as he anticipated. Well, no matter. The show must go on!

Clementine walks up to Jemmah. She tries to take a step back but remembers the chain fixing her to her post.

“Now, Jemmah is a ten…” Clementine draws his words out as if priming an accordion before a solo, “And gods is he a ten! I mean look at his perfectly wavy, purple hair and stunning, turquoise eyes…it’s enough to make any man fall to his knees, begging, pleading—” Jemmah clears his throat, bringing a scowling Clementine back down to Earth.

“Right. So Jemmah is a ten, but he has a stick up his ass.” He swiftly finishes. Jemmah scoffs, speechless. Silas rears their fist back but is caught by their chain. Bianca scolds Clementine for the use of profanity on public television. Dex stands there, bleeding.

“Oh, like you’re any better!” Silas stands up on their podium and points at Clementine, “This guy is a ten, but he doesn’t know what ‘no’ means!” Clementine reels back in disgust at such an accusation.

“Oh, yeah? Silas is a ten, but created a false religion that influenced millions of people in a completely different dimension to worship Jemmah—for who knows why!” He snapped.

“They did what, now?!” Jemmah stares at Silas, who throws their hands up in defense.

Bianca joins in the fun: “Clementine is a ten, but he still crawls back to his ex in hopes she still loves him!” Her bubbly giggles fill the air.

Clementine’s face turns even more sour. “Bianca is a ten, but she can’t tell the difference between romantic and platonic feelings!” Bianca crosses her arms and pouts in response.

Clementine points to the podium behind her: “And Dex is a ten, but he just bleeds! He bleeds everywhere! Seriously, you’re a walking crime scene, man!”

Our host straightens his cyan suit and makes his way back to center stage to announce the (albeit short) ending of the first round. Things aren't going as planned. But there's always next time, right?

You notice our contestants slowly turning to the bloody skeleton hunched behind his podium. He had been minding his business listening to Nirvana on his headset the entire game. At the mention of his name, Dex stands up, all eight feet of his stature towering over everyone.

“Clementine, I wouldn’t say shit if I were you, given you were kicked out of the country club in the sky all because you had a Freddy Krueger power trip.”

The entire studio goes silent. Clementine stands with his back to the contestants, gripping his microphone. The spotlights flicker in irritation. The flowers wrapped around each podium rapidly age and fall into rotten clumps on the stage. Maggots begin crawling out from the floorboards, their lifespans fluctuating wildly. The entire facade of the set wavers before us. But this doesn’t faze our contestants, because they know it’s just an illusion.

“Aw, did that strike a nerve, bitch boy?” Dex delivers the final nail in the coffin and puts his headphones back on.

Jemmah snorts. Bianca covers her mouth. Silas bursts out cackling and points at Clementine, who, despite trying to appear collected, turns several shades of pink. Laughter fills the air and our dear host is the butt of the joke!

Before things can get worse, Clementine quickly decides to wrap things up: “Aaand that’s all the time we have! Thank you, everyone, for tuning in!”

Over chaotic giggles, personal insults, and distorted audio clips of a “live studio audience,” we start to see the curtains draw and our beloved game, A Ten, But… come to an end. The lights fade, and immediately after, an ad for kitty litter plays.

Gently passing the tag to @bilbotargaryen, @helenofsmoke, @randomstuff3856, @junypr-camus, @bekandrew, @lyutenw, @lalalovezfrenchfriez, @murosakiiro, @elshells, @jay-avian, @charlesjosephwrites, @talesfromaurea, and anyone else who wants to hop on in because this is an open tag!

#thank you for the tag! #open tag! #mention of maggots and blood and decay #a ten but tag #my writing #my wip #my ocs #ibt wip #indie's bar and thrills wip #ahhh this was so fun to write #yes I went above and beyond #no I do not regret it

[spkyscry-a]

@prankmasterz terrorized: 

The lights died.

This was not an unusual occurrence, not by a long shot. The lights at Spooky High died regularly, what with the arson, and the sabotage, and the property damage, and other some such things. Hell, they died regularly all on their own — faulty wiring and all that, from the repeated damage and age and poor funding.

Nor was it unusual that the room that Vera was in, nestled deep in the bowels of the school, held no windows. It was a big place. Not every room had access to an outside wall, so that was not suspicious in the slightest. It was the pitch black of a cavern in there, nothing to guide her way, darkness swallowing her like an open throat, but that was to be expected. It was an annoyance, a distraction. It was not worrying.

It wasn't even worrying when the door wouldn't open. Jammed lock — most doors had been broken so often that their knobs would often catch, and sometimes all that could be done was call for Martin and get an excuse for your next class, if you decided to go to it. That wasn't even speaking of the rust, or the hinges that long needed greasing, or the heavy doors themselves, or any other number of things. Plenty could go wrong. Usually it was mere minor setback. But something wasn't right.

It couldn't be known what exactly it was, when the feeling first arose. Maybe the air was just a little more oppressive. Maybe the triple happenstance was just a little too suspicious. Maybe it was just a little too quiet, locked in there with a door that wasn't budging, with unyielding concrete walls around her, with no windows to break, with no one else around. Maybe it was just a bit too cold, for an ancient AC that turned the inside of the building into a freezer in summer and walls that offered no warmth no comfort.

It wasn't clear what. Really, it might have been nothing at all. It was, of course, entirely possible that it might have simply been Vera's mind. People did poorly when locked into dark rooms like caverns. When they could scratch and claw down to the nailbed, cutting pale strips into layers of paint over thick walls, until they bent bloody stubs against the concrete and rubbed them down to the bone, seeking an escape that never came. When the silence wrapped around her. It was so loud, so vibrant. There were people laughing, she used to be able to see their smiles, their frowns, the faint etch of worry into the lines of their foreheads, glancing back at her and then back, forward again, aware something was about to happen but unable to tell what, then swallowed up into silence. Into nothing. Into not even the beating of her own heart. Until she couldn't feel herself think, until she couldn't feel at all. But maybe that was Vera too. Who knew where these thoughts came from. Her mind could have created them too. Her mind could have drawn up all the images of what happens when someone can't drop speed fast enough. What happens when they hit a railing. When several tons of steel and metal at breakneck speeds flips over and into itself, what happens when family watches other members of itself shoot through a windshield like a bullet, shredded skin and flesh trailing behind like ribbons, what happens when flesh meets asphalt and skids against it, swaths of skin laying down a red carpet grated so finely from the body. Not enough left for a casket. Not enough to remember them by. Not enough to remember. Not enough.

She knew how to kill someone. She knew what death looked like.

So where did it matter that these things were pouring through from? They knew what happened. They knew what grief looked like. They knew how to utterly destroy someone. They knew how to break someone so wholly that they could not pull themselves back together, no more memories to become anything else.

The room was getting colder. It might have been. Vera's breath might have been curling in front of her face in a fine mist. Hard to tell in this darkness. Hard to tell when it all came so slowly, when everything seemed so normal.

The shadows rippled.

The shadows stretched.

Where once there had been no one there, suddenly there was someone.

Or something.

It didn't feel like a person. Not anymore.

It was pressing down. Down, down, down. Oppressive. Choking not in the sense of wrapping around the throat, but seeming to fill it. Like earth being packed in over a grave, tighter and tighter, no room to breathe, no breath to give, only dirt and worms and insects and things that crawled inside the lungs and were hungry and alive and feasting while she could not, while she had nothing else to be, nothing else to become, gone and missing but not gone, a between-thing, trapped, unable to be who she was, unable to reach back and grab onto herself and remember who she was, but unable to be dissembled, unable to let go.

Something was reaching out towards Vera in the darkness.

Not predatory, to describe it as such would be to give it something that it did not have. It did not want to eat Vera. It was wanting something more. Needing something more. Reaching out and grasping for something it did not have anymore. Something that was taken from it. Something that it wanted back, that it was going to take back, that it was going to take back if it had to rip it out of her and pour itself into her and wear her like a skin puppet and take her breath and her family and her blood and her body and her mind and her memories and—

And that thing was Polly. But it was not Polly either. 

Of course. 

Grimacing initially, the Gorgon’s lids fluttered from the sudden shock of bright illumination to inky blackness that swallowed her sense of sight whole. Eyes adjusted quickly, utter blackness giving way to shades of grey while the snakes on her head hissed with shared discomfort. Ignoring their initial warning, Vera continued the task of ensuring everything was tucked to her bag before going to the door. 

Once, twice, thrice the knob was twisted. The door wouldn’t budge. Murmuring in annoyance to herself, she crouched herself down to get a feel of the frame. Of course, it was one she couldn’t simply slip a card into and start jimmying it open bit by bit. A huff escaped her, annoyance briefly growing to concern. A secluded room, devoid of other exits or light, was certainly an oversight. 

Vera, with as many businesses coiled around her fingers both above and below the board, was no stranger to attempts at her life. The glint of something half a mile away needed to be noted before the bullet that raced past her head turned stone into confetti. The sudden jolt and warmth of a knife sinking into her gut and the blood spilling out after. The tightening of something tight and oppressive, as if trying to squeeze her head clean off through her neck. The burning sensation of water suddenly filling lungs not meant for such.

The laughs of those that were just stronger than her. Sure, Vera could pick up a small car, but she certainly couldn’t throw it. She’d have trouble getting it over her head, even. She didn’t have rows of teeth meant to mangle, a jaw that could crush a steel beam, nor the absurd strength to just cleanly wrench this door from its hinges, reinforced just comfortably enough that it merely thudded with a good kick provided to it. Vera always knew that, compared to most she knew, she was soft. She was something meant to strike first, fast, and not be around for a retaliation. 

Venom and stone, those were what nature provided her. Beyond that, the Gorgon may as well be any old person. She worked her way to being as dangerous as she was. Did what she had to in order to ensure even those with such drastic natural advantages would cower at her mere mention. Think twice about fighting the comparatively frailer monster.

Of course, what was happening, she realized, was not natural. 

A more determined kick, aiming closer to the knob and lock, was provided. Heart thudded, the cold chill of the room blocked out as blood rushed through her fast enough to burn. Snakes flexed and hissed, defensive and cautionary. They saw what appeared before she had. The sudden slight luminance behind her. Hand drifted to knife at pocket as she turned on her heel, red of gaze turning a brilliant orchid as sclera shifted lavender. Had anyone that could have been affected been behind her, they’d have assuredly been given a stone solid reminder of one of her scant advantages she had. 

Had they had blood to course through, perhaps they could have been atrophied from the inside out as fangs jut, popping outward from the oh-so-concealed compartments they rest in. Of course, the presence could have neither of these.

Nothing to petrify. Nothing to atrophy. What had been there had sloughed off and crumbled long, long ago.

“. . . Polly?”

It was in a hushed tone, as if the air so frozen in the room, neither wanted to enter nor leave those burning lungs. Mind raced, wondering what she could have done to her friend to cause this sort of reaction. Hand drifted away from knife, considering it would be useless to her hear. Even her cold iron one, hidden at the nape of her back, would have middling effects at best. 

Polly, the one thing she had very little to stop, was approaching.

“Polly, dear, I’m sure this is very funny, but I have an appointment I’m already somewhat late for. Can we-- Can we do the scare tactics some other time?” 

A hitch to her voice, so rare, came. Venom, prepped and unused, dripped from fangs left unused. It was so uncommon for them to be out, so unseemly on a usually perfect face, that she had never gotten very fine speech past them. 

#Seem So Unsafe ;; Vera #prankmasterz #death mention // #maiming // #drowning // #blood // #dismemberment // #choking // #decay // #venom // #maggots // #worms // #long post // #i definitely missed even more but damn you popped off

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A List of "Ugly" Words

to try to include in your next poem/story. This is a compilation of words mentioned in articles and polls I found online deemed "ugly" or "gross", or are the "most hated".

Bulbous - fat, round, or bulging.

Chunky - bulky and solid.

Curd - a soft, white substance formed when milk sours, used as the basis for cheese.

Engorge - cause to swell with blood, water, or another fluid.

Fester - to become septic; suppurate. To become rotten and offensive to the senses. To become worse or more intense, especially through long-term neglect or indifference.

Hurl - to throw (an object) with great force.

Lugubrious - looking or sounding sad and dismal.

Maggot - a soft-bodied legless larva, especially that of a fly found in decaying matter.

Moist - slightly wet; damp or humid.

Mucus - a slimy substance secreted by mucous membranes and glands for lubrication, protection, etc.

Ooze - to slowly trickle or seep out of something; flow in a very gradual way.

Phlegm - the thick viscous substance secreted by the mucous membranes of the respiratory passages, especially when produced in excessive or abnormal quantities.

Pus - a thick yellowish or greenish opaque liquid produced in infected tissue, consisting of dead white blood cells and bacteria with tissue debris and serum.

Putrid - decaying or rotting and emitting a fetid smell.

Seepage - the slow escape of a liquid or gas through porous material or small holes.

Slobber - have saliva dripping copiously from the mouth.

Slurp - to eat or drink (something) with a loud sloppy sucking noise.

Squelch - to make a soft sucking sound such as that made by walking heavily through mud.

Squirt - cause (a liquid) to be ejected from a small opening in a thin, fast stream or jet.

Yolk - the yellow internal part of a bird's egg, which is surrounded by the white, is rich in protein and fat, and nourishes the developing embryo.

If any of these words make it into your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them!

#writing prompt #writeblr #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #words #literature #spilled ink #creative writing #writing #writing prompts #poetry #a little juxtaposition to the “pretty”/“beautiful” word lists we always see

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Forbidden Fruit Spoils the Fastest

Pairing: Viserys I Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Crack fic, graphic description of decomposition, smut, mention of death and broken bones. Word count: ~1.2k

Summary: Viserys' chambermaid gets carried away.

Author's note: A request from my boo-bear @em-writes-stuff-sometimes - she wanted Vizzy in his rotting era, so that is what I have delivered. This is a crack fic - please don't read if you are easily offended. Community labels are for cops.

An existence endured in poverty denies you the sight of many things; fine clothing, rare jewels, even a roof over your head. It also stymies the opportunity for rot. Food is so scarce that it is devoured before it ever has the chance to spoil. Disease is rife in Flea Bottom, people pass well before they begin to experience the ravages of old age.

It is only when she finds herself a job within the kitchens of the Red Keep that she ever encounters the wasteful nature of those that live a life of abundance. Fruit, meat and cheese are all left on the side to spoil. She watches in fascination as peaches go soft, the skin wrinkling and collapsing in upon itself. The ghoulish green tinge that tarnishes meat as it lingers for days untouched mesmerises her. The little blue specks that grow upon the cheese seem to have a life all their own.

What isn’t fed to the hounds is simply tossed into the street, where it is either taken away by stray animals, or the poor of King’s Landing. She doubts that those residing within the Keep see a difference between the two.

The cook shrugs. “They will buy more,” he says simply when she enquires as to why so much is thrown away. “Days-old food is not fitting for royalty.”

The sentiment repulses her, yet the decay is fascinating. There is a strange beauty in watching something transform and break down, giving life to mould and maggots, becoming unpalatable.

She is moved from her position in the kitchens to one within Maegor’s Holdfast. With the deterioration of the health of King Viserys, more staff are needed to tend to the care of him.

The smell when she first enters his bedchamber causes her to take a step back. It is as though she has walked into a wall. It is nauseating, akin to the stench of the spoiled meat and fruit that they discard in the kitchens, but infinitely more powerful. Viserys is not ill; he is decomposing, a living corpse.

She is transfixed as she stands over him; he is frail, wasted away as he lays there, his skin mottled in hues of purple and grey. She wonders, if she pushed her fingers against his skin, if it would yield like the flesh of rotted fruit. It’s an arousing thought, but one she is startled from when another chambermaid instructs her that she will need to change the bed linens once the King has been lifted from the mattress.

Her throat runs dry as he is lifted away from the bedsheets, revealing the stain that his prone body has left behind, like the blood that leaches from a rotting venison haunch as it gathers flies. She notes that the scent is familiar as she plucks it from the bed. 

Do his attendants even bathe him anymore, or would his flesh simply slough away from his bones, making stew out of him?

As the weeks press on, she is given more responsibility in caring for Viserys. She is left alone with him once it is felt she can be trusted, tasked with delivering milk of the poppy to him from the Maester.

She takes a sip, allowing the bitter liquid to rest against her tongue for a moment before swallowing and assisting Viserys in drinking the rest, a faint grumble of gratitude escaping his throat as she tips the cup against his parched lips.

“Some for me, and some for you.” She smiles as she feels euphoria wash over her.

The diluted opiate makes the stench more bearable, allowing her to examine him more carefully. He does not speak when she lifts away the golden half mask that covers the right side of his face, simply lays there, barely lucid and groans softly.

The cavernous void in his skull where his eye used to be is a gruesome sight, but she is unable to look away. It’s hypnotic to be able to peer all the way inside of someone’s skull and her fingers twitch with the urge to poke around inside.

She resists, deciding Viserys is likely already in enough pain. It’s probably been an age since he last felt any pleasure. She doubts Alicent has touched him in years and the thought makes her pity him. Does he even have a cock anymore, or is there another gaping hole where it has simply been eaten away to nothing?

Before she has time to think fully about what she is doing, she lifts away the quilt that is laid over him. Nightclothes cover his body, yet she can tell he is in a sorry state. He is skeletal beneath the thin material and, as she pulls it upwards, the flesh not marred by lesions is grey, varicose and wilted.

She holds her breath as she reaches the apex of his rakish thighs, expecting the sight between them to horrify her. She is more shocked by the fact that the rot has yet to spread to this portion of him. It sits flaccid and pale against slightly sagging stones, nestled in sparse curls.

Taking him into her hand, she strokes him softly, her eyebrows raise in surprise when he slowly stirs to life against her palm.

“Once you are too rotten to be King, they’ll throw you away like last week’s pheasant,” she tells him matter of factly, watching as he becomes fully hard. He groans quietly. He’s not the largest she’s ever seen, but what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth. “I may as well give you a good time before that happens. Would you like that?”

“Aemma…” he rasps.

She furrows her brow, annoyance prickling hotly at her skin. “If I’m going to fuck you, you sickly old fool, you could at least use the right name!”

Sighing, she shucks off her small clothes before lifting her skirts and straddling Viserys. She spits into her palm, smearing it between her legs and over his length, positioning him at her entrance and sinking down.

She giggles as his face twists in an expression that is halfway between pain and pleasure, slowly beginning to rock her hips. Her eyes travel over what’s left of his face, attempting to piece together what he might have looked like before he began to waste away.

“I have always wanted to fuck a King,” she murmurs, picking up her pace, buttocks slapping against his thighs. “A pity the rot got to you before I did, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

Moaning softly, she revels in the way Viserys stretches her, her eyes fluttering closed, not caring about the utter depravity of the act she’s committing.

A sickening crack causes her to gasp, feeling something give way beneath her. Viserys lets out a piteous cry of pain and she quickly scrambles off of him, throwing the bedclothes back over him and hurriedly putting her smallclothes back on.

Shit. I’ve broken the poor cunt’s hip.

Panic courses through her, her heart beats wildly against her chest. She rushes from the room, spending the remainder of the day busying herself with laundering sheets and bedclothes, until later that evening the news spreads like wildfire throughout the Keep.

King Viserys has died.

She is unsurprised by the news, smiling to herself as she continues her task of folding a sheet.

At least that rotten old fruit had one last chance to get it wet before being thrown away.

#viserys i targaryen #viserys targaryen #viserys i targaryen x reader #viserys targaryen x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd crack fic

[mothmanperson]

only maggots love the taste of rotting flesh.

cw: blood, gore, angst, really bad attempt at being poetic, reader implied to be from another world/universe(isekai), dead dove: do not eat

no character is mentioned, but it’s a jujutsu kaisen…. thing i wrote, i honestly don’t know what to call this

what were you doing…?

what have you….. done….?

blood rushed to your head and you suddenly couldn’t feel your feet and hands anymore, besides the aching cold that filled you to your bones.

your knees screamed, the rough, cracked ground you kneeled on duh into your skin like needles. but you didn’t move just yet, your body just… refuse to let you turn away from the gruesome scene in front of you.

one that you alone had caused.. this, was your own doing…

at one point a painful sound rung through your ears, piercing your eardrums, red bleeding down your neck onto clothes you borrowed.

you didn’t notice, it felt as if everything around you was dulled yet so enhanced at the same time. you thought if you felt hard enough, you could feel the pitter patter of ants from the park far away, that was spared by the havoc.

god…. have you always been this cruel?

you never thought you could fall this far.

clarity, yet you couldn’t even see your own perspective anymore. you lost sight of something you could barely remember anymore, lost in a war that had nothing to do with you, that shouldn’t have been possible to have anything to do with you.

yet… like a fool, you went with whatever was thrown at you… instead of helping yourself, like you always did, instead of taking things into your own hands, like you knew you had to.

you sat around and did nothing: twiddled your thumbs, achieving nothing to help your peculiar case.

the day you came to was a blur, yet you seemed to gain a sense of deja vu, red filling to much of your unfocused view.

you breathed calmly, deep breaths that made your lungs want to burst out of your chest in shame of what you’ve achieved.

your heart beating uncomfortably fast, but not enough to be threatening.

it felt like when you didn’t sleep a minute at night, your body doing everything to pull your through the day, while also staying alive and alert, creating an almost out of body experience, you could see yourself kneeling in front of the growing pool of crimson blood.

the one you created, on your own with no one to blame but your own.

god, those hands that were smeared with cake batter just a few days prior, now forever stained with cooling blood of someone you recognize.

you took another deep breath and your lips parted, cracking and tearing apart, fresh dropplets of blood filling the spaces between dried skin, your teeth coated in a lot more of the same liquid, horrifying, as it forced it’s way down your throat.

you didn’t even mind the taste.

your hands shook, as did your vision as you looked at the appendages, moving them in any kind of way hurt as dried wounds reopened, ripping open even more and your bones scratched from below.

your skeleton wanted to escape its sinful bindings, and so did you, run away to a place that wasn’t this, that wasn’t here.

hide from the world and rot until dirty maggots feast upon you like you are a delicacy, loving your taste, your texture, your thoughts and feelings.

loving you, even if they were lowly, filthy things that crawled to the dead like moths to a flame.

eating hole in your heart, finding there is one already, round and empty, black and blistering like tar, bleeding into your live essence, mingling with your blood like old friends. when it shed, only then was it’s true nature revealed, sticking to everything like sweet, sweet honey, everything you once reached for so hopefully, was painted it’s ugly color, the saccharine smell attracting flies to lay their spawn, setting their doom.

yet you were still alive, the maggots loved your flesh, yet you moved and lived and continued on with your live, letting decay fall upon all without a care.

you should‘ve helped yourself, when you still had the chance, now you killed and your fate was sealed, your doom was to come. you felt it in your corroding heart, you felt it.

god, or was that feeling just the larva indulging in your core?

#gn reader #someone help #x gender neutral reader #x reader #gender neutral #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #tw death #cw: gore #maggots #bad poetry #i was in a mood #gojo satoru #geto suguru #sukuna #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #male reader #you killed someone #isekai

[danosrosegarden]

YOU WROTE IT SO WELL TY AND SO QUICK-?? tysm and I’m glad you liked the request isjdjjdjd

Could I request something to do with Eddie giving reader (with female anatomy) head and reader becoming overwhelmed with pleasure and their hand that guided him in his hair pulling away so their thighs can pull him in instead,

Post climax, fretting over him and asking if he’s alright, kissing him all over etc, brushing slicked hair to the side, wiping his chin, and him being absolutely winded but incredibly aroused from the experience, he probably came in his pants let’s be honest,

This is more a scenario than a request sorry for writing so much !! Ty again !!

- 🦷 anon

devotion - edward nashton x fem!reader (NSFW) ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{contains: cunnilingus with an obsessive edward, sacrilegious comparisons, very mild mentions of past trauma (nothing in detail), and one usage of a pet name (puppy).}

The way his velvet tongue laps and swirls around you is devotion. The way your fingers dance up his sweat-slicked forehead and lace themselves into his hair is prayer, joy-injected worship with both arms outstretched. His muffled groans are the striking chords of the echoing organ, bouncing off the walls and ringing in your ears. He could gorge himself on your taste, gobble up your grip on his hair and binge your moans until he was a stumbling drunk.

He starts off slow. Meek. It's the quiet click of soft kisses on the plush of your thighs, gentle hums as he travels lower and lower. It's not enough to just have his wandering hands rub around your legs. It's not enough to just suck splotches of wet bruises on your thighs.

This is my body, this is my blood. He wants more.

The buck of your hips is the air that snakes from his nostrils into his wavering lungs. The quiver of your legs is the blood beating from his jackhammering heart. The taste of your slick on his lips is the ground he gets down on both knees to kiss and worship. He cannot help the snarling beast he morphs into when he swipes over your throbbing clit and hears you whine, feels you jerk. He cannot control the claws that sink into your flesh when he swallows your juices and instantly needs more. More of your taste, more of your whimpers, more of your hips grinding into his mouth, more of you and you whole.

And nothing feels more glitteringly euphoric, more sparklingly fulfilling, more shiningly enough than watching you crumble for him. Because of him. He needs you bangingly louder, blindingly brighter, more, more, more, and when you unleash that final sharp cry, he knows he's done good.

Good. What a strange concept, to do good. Nothing he's ever done has ever really felt good. It has only ever been stinking rot, moldy decay, maggot-chewed blight. But how could he not glimmer with pride when his hands are gripping your hips so tightly? How could anything from the blackened, corroded past matter when you're staring down at him with those eyes, clouded over and glossy with satisfaction? He feels accomplished. He feels full.

His cheeks burn a flaming carnation pink as your thumb swipes across his chin.

"Good puppy."

He feels safe when he's in your arms afterwards, one warm hand stroking his hair and the other petting the curve of his waist. It's difficult to calm himself, to still his beating heart, but he can breathe easy when he's in your glistering bubble of love. He can see clearly when your warm kisses coat his cheeks. You're his fluffy scoop of cloudy comfort. His refuge, his worship, his answered prayer.

His heaven.

#eli's writing #danonation #paul dano #edward nashton #the riddler #the batman #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x you #the riddler x you #edward nashton x y/n #the riddler x y/n

[ace-of-trppls]

「𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈: 𝐁𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃」 Twst x Dark Deception Au

After Getting into an accident you awaken to find yourself in a place found between the boundaries of the 7 circles of hell, A mirror chamber, with and an odd birdman named Crowley as your only company

Upon waking up Crowley bribes you into going to each circle to “help” him fix mirror that is told to be able to bring back the life you once had, with no other choice you agree

Crowley decides to graciously tell you a bit about the circles and the madness that you were about to venture

TW: mentions of dead bodies, blood, graveyard, cursing, mentions of memory loss, cannibalism

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈: 𝐃𝗼𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝗼𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝗼𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

「SAVANACLAW」 Realm of the rebel from savanna

Now, after avoiding losing your head in the red tyrant’s realm also known as Heartslabyul, you and and fun-sized friend wanted to take a rest but did Crowley let you? Absolutely not!

So next thing you know you are thrown into a new realm unlike the Heartslabyul which was a fairly lush garden this place was a large sunny desert

Honestly if you thought the heartslabyul residents were bad at least they couldn’t track you based off your scent alone, so they’re constantly on your tail chasing you around like a game of cat and mouse

Luckily Crowley had mercy on you and gave you an ability were you can basically speed up and get ahead of them but then again it has a cool down so you can’t use it often

Now this map has two sections first a large maze like canyon , and second is a large dark area or what most of the residents call it an elephant graveyard

The the first section of the map the canyon has twist and turns every corner although tiring, the constant twist and turns help you out run their residents even by just a little

The second section is more barren less colorful than the first sect. True as it’s name suggests it was no different from a large graveyard except, in a graveyard the bodies are actually buried.

skeletons both large and small where scattered throughout the waste land some where old and withered, some where still harboring sickly green skin and bodies slightly bloated, some where in the middle of decomposition masses of maggots and flies swarming the sickly green bodies some of there eyes where still open limbs lost in a way to at seemed like they where bitten no that would be an understatement torn to shreds would be more appropriate

it feels terrible walking through the graveyard but then you begin to think some of these bodies are new and are just began decaying, but Crowley never said you where the first right?

The smell was horrible even your furry friend comments on it, It took a lot for your not to throw up at the mere sight of the bodies but the smell? It might push you over the edge

The graveyard itself was eerily quiet it seemed the residents wanted to avoid this place you would too if it wasn’t for Crowley’s wishes

Even thought the place was unsightly a few residents still managed to follow you A hyena and a wolf an odd pair for sure but you are not one to judge

Upon reaching the middle of graveyard like waste land, you come face to face with this realms ruler A Rebel from a savana

The bones underneath my feet keep making an unsavory sound a I wander toward where the fragment is

It smells horrible here

I stop for a moment feeling your stomach churn at a horrid feeling god damn it the smell was getting to you but either way you had to continue

“We’re close…”

Grim muttered his eyes where casted downward brows furrowed as if trying to desperately remember something by looking at the multiple decayed corpses

And here we are the mirror fragment was right there, I reached for it my hand feeling a static like feeling as I try to reach for the fragment but an odd lightheaded feeling pulled me into a trance

I can’t move

“OI!”

Grim was screaming, I can’t move, what’s happening? They’ll find me I have to-

“Shi shi shi shi”

Eh?

“Your guess was right boss”

Someone is here who?

“Of course I always am”

Shit

“Who else sends useless herbivores here aside from that dumbass crow”

They found me

I have move, grim is yelling in my ear, before a hand took him by his collar I hear a husky chuckle behind me, my body started moving on it’s own, turning around I’m face to face with my captors A lion, a hyena, and a Wolf

“you’ve came back with a new meal, It’s been a while hasn’t it pest?”

“WHO ARE YOU!? WHAT ARE DOING TO MY HUMAN?”

“Ah right, I remember, you don’t”

The lion knows, grim but he doesn’t? My gaze turned to the figure behind him

One stood firm, gray hair stood up like spikes, gaze hard yet he seemed hesitant

The Second standing lankily a posture mirroring mine, dull gold hair, and mischievous looking eyes staring at me as if he was taunting me reminding me of the fate that awaited me

I have to move

“HUMAN!”

I have to…or I will..

My gaze drifted to the rotting corpses, panic rising more by the minute

“Well, as fun it is messing with you I’m getting hungry”

The lion is seems done playing with him tossing him like a rag doll towards the wolf who catches grim obediently, his gaze narrowing at me still unable to move

please

The lion placed his hand on my shoulder, gripping it, his nails into me I want to react, pull back, push, kick anything just something to tell me I still somewhat have control over my body, but all I can do is yelp, and hold back my tears

“Aw, is the rabbit crying already?”

“Shishishishi, Leona-san your so mean!”

The hyena spoke, grim was still trying to escape the grip of the wolf, while watching them I began to feel a tingling sensation in my fingers that gradually went through my body I realized what was happening

I was slowly regaining the my control over my body I could finally move my fingers

“What was that?”

The mens gazes where on me their gazes piercing hole right through me,

“They moved”

Shit, the wolf noticed me, I looked at at the Mirror fragment it was right there, I was thinking of making a run for it, suddenly the hyena raised is arm abruptly

Fuck

I quickly ran to the mirror fragment Grim reacting just as fast, quickly conjuring fire in between me and the lion then attack both the Hyena and the wolf, had done this before his movement where perfect, flawless enough to keep the at bay while I take the mirror shard and ran

“GRIM!”

I called out, he followed me but not before attacking the hyena and lion leaving the wolf I wonder why

we ran to the portal, I was in sight but the wolf was in pursuit he was fast

it was the last stretch but just before he could catch up he stopped

eyes no longer hard and steady, it seemed more sure and apologetic

“I’m sorry…

Good luck”

What?…

But before I could react my body was teleported to a familiar chamber

“I see! You have the second piece!”

Hello! Author here! I apologize for the delay my tumblr has been acting up and I plan on editing the first part a bit so please reread that a bit

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland dark deception au #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #savanaclaw #jack howl #twisted wonderland gn! reader

[whumpacabra]

Day 1 - Distress Call

Angst, surgery mention, animal death, descriptions of decay [graphic]

[Follows Stray Dog]

They lied. To themself, mostly, when thinking about the way the phone rattled on its charger. They would later pretend that they felt their blood still and heart drop, that they knew this was coming. They pretended that they didn’t smile seeing one of Liza’s aliases on the caller ID, that they weren’t thinking of how they wanted to tell her that they had finally finished the puzzle she had gotten them for the solstice.

Because if they were happy, if they felt safe and secure and untouchable, then they were weak. Vulnerable.

“Liza! What’s - ?”

“Hospital. Now.” Her voice was hoarse from crying. It wasn’t until she spoke that RJ realized their mistake. That they were relaxed, and that they had forgotten the first and most important lesson Ghost had taught them.

‘Don’t get too comfortable.’ They remembered how he didn’t look up from his newspaper, too-sweet coffee in hand. ‘This is temporary.’

He didn’t need to add that their life temporary was too. Even if the temporary lasted months, then years under a roof with good food and gentle hands and soft voices. Everything came to an end. Even him.

RJ forgot about the deer half butchered on the back porch and the whetstone they had come to grab when they heard the phone ring. They would return days later to find the bloated corpse, untouched by fox or wolf or feral dog. Only ravens dared to pick at empty eye sockets where maggots writhed.

They stretched the phone cord as they were torn between bolting for the door and listening to Liza’s strained words.

“He’s still in surgery. He - you should be here.”

“I’m on my way.” They could feel their voice constrict, words strangled to a rumble in their throat as they dropped the phone, letting it dangle from its coiled, cream colored cord.

The car keys were cold, their arms were still spattered with warm deer blood and their boots damp with snow and mud. Sitting alone in their truck, they paused. The morning was bright and quiet, sparrows whistling between the trees and tall grass. Not-quite-spring sunshine beat down on the muddy dirt road that led through the countryside to their house.

Their home.

They had a message on their back up cellphone. A 6 second voicemail. It was protocol when he was in an area with patchy service, a check to make sure he could still reach them.

They hadn’t noticed until they got back from hunting that there was a message - they kept their phone silenced, even when not hunting. They hadn’t thought to check it. Not that it would have made a difference, with Liza’s call coming not half an hour later.

It wouldn’t make a difference now if RJ was at the hospital 6 seconds later than they already were.

If he was going to die without them there, it was his own damn fault. Theirs for not knowing, for not being ready, for not being there -

The first second was silence, the second a bubbling, unsteady sound of pain.

“Emanuel Hummel. You’ll find him.” Three and four seconds, a shaking inhale. “You always do.” Five, six and silence. End of message.

They forced their breathing to even as they turned the key in the ignition and tore down the muddy road, birds scattering from the trees in their wake.

[Directly before Waiting Room]

(Part of my Freelancers: Boy Meets World series)

Happy Whumpril! I’m going to be using my Freelancer series for this month - these pieces won’t be in chronological order to in-universe events. A chronological masterpost of the series can be found at the link above.

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday1 #distress call #emotional whump #animal death #graphic descriptions of decay #not a particularly whumpy one but a piece I’ve had in mind since the beginning that I’ve never had an excuse to write :]

[confuseddipshit]

sorry for the lack of a cut, mobile tumblr isnt as fancy.

as promised, here it comes

⚠️tw: gore; mentions of death and decaying; mentions of body fluids and body horror; unhealthy relationship with emotions.

⚠️cw: proposital grammar inaccuracies (use of "its", "ones" instead of "one's", etc; use of lower case in beginning of phrases/ paragraphs)

-> let me know if i missed something.

within the confinement of a ribcage, deep down inside the flesh and blood and bones, emotions are laid down, left to rot. the entire purpose of this abandonment was to be able to think properly, freely from the influence of feelings and their fangs, biting and scraching for crumbs of attention, while reason is torn to shreds under its claws.

of course, how wrong could one be to leave the decaying residues, with its pungent smell and gooey texture, inside ones own cage, and hope for it to go away? hope for the maggots to not find their way through ones chest, right into ones heart and, consequently, thoughts.

nothing is created, nothing is destroyed; everything is transmuted.

the once tamed and controlled emotions, now seem to crawl their way from their grave, digging up like the goddamn devil, skin raw in the places where it still clings to its torn, atrophied muscles; eyes bloodshot, at least the ones that are still inside its socket or swinging from its optical nerve; tongue out, swollen and green-tinted, collecting the yellow infection and dark, rotten blood that flow from its wounds.

no longer tamed, no longer soft; now, those emotions come in waves, angry, with bloodlust stares, gnarling at ones attempt to run and hide, teeth bare as they get closer; one cant hide from what is inside one.

the pale greenish tone covering their gums is noticeable, to this distance. the more one runs, the closer they get, loose limbs eventually dropping to the ground from the force they use to keep chasing, to stay on the hunt.

if the effort was made, their helplessness would be seen; "why did you abandon us", "why did you wound us", "why did you leave us to rot". like children in the absence of a responsible adult, the translucent eyes silently begged for answers; comfort, at least.

theres no comfort in the face of a creator that runs from its creation; theres no peace in knowing your monster is free, let out by your own hands, except from the relieve of not holding it back anymore, not burning your hands in the rough rope and chains anymore.

when your hands are no longer sore, remember; you are the one to deal with the destruction they left behind.

hope you enjoyed, feedbacks and notes are appreciated; see you next time.

#jack is writing #tw gore #tw mentions of death #decaying #emotional #body horror

[reverenceforthedead]

Vulture Culture Observations

Hello Everyone

I’ve recently started to collect some roadkill for their bones and to study the rate of decay with my son, whose pretty interested in it! 

As a practicing funeral director apprentice, a death enthusiast, and a practicing Death Witch, I’ve been having a great time learning more about death with my deities. 

So let's dive into some observations I’ve gained! 

Observations 

Pick Up Roadkill Immediately. 

This one should be obvious but sometimes you might be curious to see how far into the decaying process you can go without something gross happening. Jokes on me, yall. It’s all gross. 

I made the mistake of picking up a young raccoon three days ago in 95 degree weather here in New England. It wasn’t smelling too bad so I didn’t think anything was wrong. Until I picked it up. Yikes. It was purging blood EVERYWHERE. 

So to keep a long story short, if you can help it, grab it early. If you can’t, make sure to bring a good garbage bag, a cardboard box to help keep the blood off the car, ideally a pair of gloves if you got any on you, and some hand sanitizer to keep your hands clean until you can wash them at home! 

Tubs vs the Outdoors 

At the start, I read somewhere on here via another blog I can’t remember the name of, that if you want protection from the elements like other animals from getting to your corpse, you may want to put them into some tubs. 

Currently, I have a porcupine, a fox, and a hawk inside two tubs out near my garden. I keep them covered to protect them from the forces of nature. They have decayed slowly. I think its been two months since I got the hawk and porcupine, and a couple of weeks since I got the young fox. 

I “burp” the tubs regularly. What this means is, I release the gases from confinement because I don't want any explosions of gas in my face. Trust me on that one. 

Today I observed the bodies have become black with purge, which means they are ready to be sprayed and cleaned down with bleach. My husband and I will move them into the forest behind our house, get some screens, and hose out the tubs to hopefully get some cool stuff (bones, feathers, etc). 

As for the raccoon, I have kept it outside by a couple of trees on the garbage bag I picked it up in. It has been four days, and already the maggots have exposed a some parts of the rib cage, and a femur. 

This tells me that although the risk of a coyote or a vulture getting to my roadkill may be high (I have some foxes and coyotes around my area that like to prowl every once in a while), the rate of decay is still faster when exposed to the elements. Which makes sense. 

None of it smells good. Im having a great time learning, though! I'll share some photos of the bones and my goodies that I get once we clean out the tubs!

Preserving Remains 

I haven’t mentioned it yet, but I also have a young owl. Right now, it is currently in my deep freezer waiting for us to decide if we want to get it stuffed or let it decay naturally.  

If we do decide to let it decay, I’ll keep you informed about how a deep-frozen body does during the summer/ early fall. If we get it stuffed, I’ll let you know about the cost and the final product. 

#vulture culture #vulture #culture #death and decay #decay #rate of decay #bones #roadkill #deities #death witch #witchcraft #science #big yikes #smells horrible #why am i doing this though #devotional act #devtional project #letslearnwithghastly

[saturnberry]

Devil's Retreat

Luke x Jan fic request for @tenukiichaud <3

content warnings: blood, sibling incest, mention of monsters

A Halloween tradition dating back to the ripe era of psychedelics, cheesy horror flicks, and teenage rebellion, the Valentines found themselves reverting back to nostalgic shenanigans of tresspassing private properties. Not properties anyone cared for, no not some rich man's creepy mansion, or a private graveyard, but abandoned buildings lost to time. Jan came up with the idea, he wanted to hunt for ghosts or in his own words, "See some dead guy's body in a weird ass position. Like on a toilet!" And Luke being the protective older brother, followed along, complaining of the safety hazards along the way. This year proved no different, while they had stopped since they joined the ranks of Millennium, they have seeped back into old "bonding activities". Once again (judt like old times) Luke was cuffing the bridge of his nose while Jan bellowed him to climb over the rusty fence.

"Thank god Dok was so kind to offer us up-to-date shots."

Jan cast an amber glare downward from atop the fence before climbing down the other side, making a face at his brother when he passed him.

"Haven't got all night, fuck face. Move your ass would ya'?"

Luke stopped midway up the fence, letting the too-warm-to-be-a-proper-fall air blow his hair in his face. He wanted to have a nice afternoon inside, probably watching a psychological horror film with the rest of Millenium, not fuck around in abandoned places catching diseases with his brother. But, he figured quality bonding time with his brother could sacrifice what he wanted to do, if it got Jan out of everyone's hair for a day.

"Please remind me what we're going to be doing tonight."

Jan gave an uncomfortably long pause, eyes narrowed, mouth hung open enough to watch his tongue play around with his piercing, a gross habit Luke learned to hate.

"What do we do every year, dumbass. God sometimes I pray for stupid people like you, then I realize it's an uncurable disease. . ."

Jan helped Luke climb down the rest of the fence before letting on towards a sidewalk leading to an abandoned resort.

"We're here to hunt for cryptids . . . spooks. Or maybe get scared of by a squatter of those chat forums wete just tryna get a scare. But if you wanna make it cheesy, it's a Halloween date."

A date. While tresspassing wasn't the most romantic idea, Luke wasn't turned off at the thought that Jan planned for the two of them to spend quality time together, and possibly end the night with a kiss, a dance, or something more exhausting. However, that something exhausting could be running from police if they got caught.

The unlikiness of that happening was high, both were equipped with weapons to defend themselves as well as abilities to make a swift getaway. However, it was still a thought to digest. Even within the unfamiliar corridors of the resort and rusty wreckage that was strawn about, one wrong slip and they were done for. But, this was a grand challenge for both brothers. The various rusted cars, moldy carpets, and caved in ceilings built in the ambience of decay and what used to be.

They found a calm in the chaos of mess. Being in an abandoned location with wildflowers growing from various cracks and through bathroom tiles reminded Luke (at least) that even through those who are unloved, beauty still exists, in some miniscule type of way.

No that was dumb. Luke cursed himself internally for thinking of such a "cheesy" comparison.

"Yo! Come look what I found!"

A corpse. A man with an exit wound in his chest, piercing where roughly his heart would be. The blood was caked into the tiles of the drained pool, seeping into the grout. Flies and maggots had already made themselves a new home in the wound as well as animals stopping by for a nibble. It was nasty, revolting, the smell making Luke's nose wrinkle in nausea inducing disgust. Why would Jan choose to show him this when he was actually enjoying himself.

"Ya'know, a date isn't a date without food."

Luke exchanged a glare, one that said he would throw his brother onto the already decomposing corpse, but softened, knowing Jan and his gruesome teases. He found joy in watching Luke's pale skin turn the faintish shade green from some macabre remark.

"I'd rather not eat someone's leftovers thank you, Jan."

The blond gave a blunt smile before a figure darted in his peripheral vision. Too swift to be an animal or human. Maybe they'd be making a swift escape afterall.

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #jan valentine #luke valentine #fanfics #hope this is okay!

[the-flower32]

Writeblr Garden Pumkin Pitch Event!

Scottie in Toyland (<— WIP title, will be changed)

A bold and restless rag doll named Scottie and her best friend, a wooden doll named Louis, travel outside their home town to inform the Queen about something, or someone, infecting their water. Along the way they face perils, their worst fears, and make friends. All the while the one responsible for this infected water is trying to stop them, and he’s not above tearing some seams to get his way.

Inspirations: Winnie the Pooh, Wizard of OZ (the books), Raggedy Ann & Andy (Movie).

Trigger warnings: descriptions of rotting & decay, characters falling down a waterfall, descriptions of anxiety, death, injury (they’re toys so no blood, but stuffing is lost), infected water, angry mobs, rockslides, characters trapped in a cave, characters facing their own fears, mentions of dead bodies (again, they’re dolls/toys), descriptions of maggots & fungus growing off of a dead body, low-key bullying.

Excerpt:

Louis and Percy hadn't noticed the body when Scottie stopped walking, it wasn't until Louis followed his friend's gaze that he saw why she had froze.

“Holey Polyester fabric.” Louis covered his mouth in shock and disgust at the decomposing corpse of some poor toy who lost their way in this forest. Percy soon saw it as well and had to avert his eyes. 

Thankfully the corpse’s face was to the dirt, sparring them of having to look into the soul vacant eyes of this unfortunate doll.

“Scottie, Scottie we have to keep going.” Louis said in a calm but firm voice as he tried to snap Scottie out of her horror and disgust filled trance, 

“Cottie. Cotton.”

He raised his voice a bit, but she couldn't take her eyes from the cadaver. It was so rotted she wouldn't be able to recognize it if it wasn't daylight.

“Cotton. Farm girl- Scottie!” It was his shouting that snapped her out of it, as soon as Louis saw she was out of whatever trance she was in he grabbed her arm and led her ahead, keeping her head turned forward so the rotting doll was out of her line of sight. Percy followed after. 

#writeblrgarden #Pumkinpitch #Pumkin pitch #Writeblr garden #Toys #tolls #oc’s #my writting #my characters #wip #Dead body #fear #Nicknames #Scottie-ragdoll #Louis-wooden doll #Percy-teddy bear #Yeah its a little cheesy #I had fun writing it

[cringedndplayer]

max, the first victim

helloooo? I'm Dallas and I write random things that come to mind, this is a random horror character I made up. mainly about its first victim and how it kills though

BIG WARNING mentions of bugs in wounds, extreme gore (i think lol)

Max was an ordinary kid. Everything she did was normal. She wasn't a bad kid. She never got poor grades, and she never made a mess. So why was she being chased by this demon? She ran fast, her feet hitting the ground, creating a painful sensation. Her breathing was heavy, and tears streamed down her face as she heard it running close behind her. It was running on all fours. She could tell. She cried out desperately when she felt it tackle her to the dirt. She was looking through the corner of her eye to see it, to comprehend its motive for wanting her dead, but all she saw was an unhinged jaw in her view. Saliva leaked from its mouth down its sharp teeth. It looked like it was decomposing. Not metaphorically, but genuinely decaying. Maggots fell from its mouth onto max as she wailed louder. She continued crying out, hoping for anyone to help her. But the beast merely leaned down into max's neck and tore it open. Blood leaked from its mouth as Max's screams died down. Her eyes were wide, and her face was pale as the being tore her flesh away. It seems max wasn't strong enough. Her corpse was hung in its cave like a puppet waiting to be used like a mere toy. It used bugs to keep her as alive as she could seem, filling her through her wounds and rotting with cocoons. It kept her there until she was nothing but rancid blood and matter-covered insects flying.

#horror #horror fans #fanfic #fanfiction #tw #writing

[darkpostruins]

Masterlist

Poetry

I Wish

If I Die Tomorrow (TW:Implied Death)

Present (TW: Disassociation)

In The Event Of My Death (TW: Death, Dark Topics)

Dear Maggots (TW: Bugs, Vent, Family Trauma)

I Still Hope For You (TW: Mentions Eating Disorder)

A Thousand Life Times

I Like To Think (TW: Death,Decay, Idolization of Death)

Jump (TW: implied Death, Family Trauma, Vent, Idolization of Death)

Orchid (TW: Death, Mental Health Issues)

Daisies (TW: Mature themes)

Lunch

Call

Sweet Pea (TW: Mature Themes)

Tulips (TW: Death)

Lets Run Away Together

Home

Roe V. Wade

Forgotten History

I'm Here

Library

Cooper

Rose

Stories

The Witch Of Yellowstone

Chapter 1 (TW: Death, Drowning, Violence)

Chapter 2 (TW: Mentions of Drowning, PTSD, Past Trauma)

Chapter 3 (TW: Kidnapping, Past Trauma, Injuries, Blood, Potential Death, Violence)

Chapter 4 (TW: Mentions of sickness, minor violence, Kissing)

Final

The End Of The World

Whole Story (TW: War, Death, Blood)

Fears In You

Chapter 1 (TW: Therapy, Medication, Mental Health issues,Horror)

Final (TW: Implied Death, Mental Health Issues, Divorce, humanoid creatures, Violence,Horror)

Reaper

Full Short Story (TW: Death)

NSFW

Shorts

His Gun (TW: Gun, sexual themes, 18+)

Camera (TW: CNC, Sexual themes, 18+, sensitive topics)

[yourdeepestfathoms]

So I just found out, the girls bathe in blood baths. Bela mentions is when you fight her that she "would love to soak in a nice hot blood bath", sooo headcanon based around this?

okay, so here’s the thing: that shit is gonna be nasty if it ain’t fresh. the worst fuckin bath ever. because blood rots like flesh. the plasma will evaporate and the blood will begin to decay and all that will be left is this thick, oily, coagulated mass of meat that is infested with maggots.

all i can really say in terms of headcanons is that they bathe in only fresh blood because they have class and don’t want no worms crawlin up their coochie. but to fill entire tub takes a lot of maidens, so they don’t do it too often.

#ask #I bet it squishes #like the rotten blood #I bet it makes a squish sound when you get in it #like jello #but with maggots #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil headcanons

[viviae]

The Red Plague: An Analysis

Ok, I’m to preface this that I am not at ALL a student of medicine or science I am just a humble blogger who really likes diseases, literary analysis, and the science behind death. This will also be a STUPIDLY long post so I am letting you all live by putting it behind a readmore this time

This goes without saying but there is a content warning to this. I’m talking about death, stages of decay, rotting, corpses, vomit, and other gross medical stuff. There will be NO images however. I subjected myself to viewing those images and I will not condemn you all to view them. 

I’m going to start this off making sure everyone is on the same page and post an image from the art book about the Red Plague itself

So let’s start with the canonical facts about the plague first

Average life expectancy was 3-7 days once symptoms show, Averages are also liars which means it could’ve taken a little bit more than 7 days or under 3 days to die. 

Spread by the plague beetles, exact method of transfer is unknown but Julian was force fed one and contracted the plague however they are safe to keep in containment.

Plague beetles also infected nonhuman objects like the water supply which is shown as a thick ichor. This ichor no longer possesses infectious properties at the time of the story

Julian believed that it had to do with a corruption in the blood hence the usage of leeches 

The Lazarus started as a containment center before becoming a crematorium, meaning people believed that it was spread from contact or things like that

HOWEVER This is not the first appearance of the plague as it would show up at locations Lucio stayed for too long but no note if it spread from these locations. 

It’s not a disease, its a curse.

So, this is one nasty plague on our hands. Most diseases that are this lethal would never be able to spread as much as it did unless it could spread from corpse contact or through other means like a carrier. I think that it could be spread through a combination of both which would add an additional need for cremation. 

Corpse Disposal & Spreading

Historically during plagues you would simply toss bodies into mass graves or ‘plague pits’. This would be, substantially, easier than what they do in Vesuvia. Cremation is not an easy process and is an art form. The heat needed for a cremation alone is incredibly hot and needs special methods to be contained. Not to mention the tedious cleaning process to make sure ashes don’t damage the heat element. So you are telling me that Vesuvia... went through the process of rowing away their dead to the middle of a lake to do mass cremations because it was the easiest? Yes they would’ve run out of grave space a while ago but no one is saying they can’t go make a plague pit out in the woods for half the work.

Now granted, I understand the imagery of making Asra wade through bodies of rotting corpses to find the apprentice’s bloated corpse is uh,,, graphic. Or making us stumble upon an open plague pit of bones in the woods with you LI is not what most people call romantic. (you’re welcome for that image) So they could’ve just made mass cremations on a separate island for tone reasons but that’s BORING.

Not a lot of diseases are actually capable of surviving in dead body simply because when we die our bodies lose the necessary high heats for them to multiply and survive. But this isn’t a disease in a traditional sense, its a curse to Lucio. And this is Lucio we are talking about, some one who is famously afraid of death and dying, which was grafted by a demon of pestilence who is obsessed with worms (cough maggot symbolism and death by disease cough). So I propose that the plague is spread in addition to plague beetles but by dead bodies themselves. This would put additional pressure on proper corpse disposal and the need for cremation. This fact would also explain why plague doctors were present at the boats leading to the Lazarus instead of simple plague carters (rowers?) as doctors would probably have to keep a closer eye on proper disposal of bodies.

As for how I think the beetles themselves spread the plague, I think it’s probably in a similar way as to how Lyme Disease is spread. I can’t name any disease that is spread by beetles themselves off the top of my head but ticks are pretty similar to beetles (I am not an entomologist). Lyme disease is spread by infected ticks biting into the hosts skin and regurgitating its stomach contents that includes the bacterium for the disease. 

This would explain why Julian got the plague pretty awful real quick. He consumed all of the plague beetle’s contents and Lucio didn’t have to try and force a beetle to bite Julian, which would’ve given Julian time to fight back. This is also working with the fact Lucio got bit by a plague beetle when running from Morga in his tale. He most likely contracted the plague, or perhaps he contracted the curse then and later on got re bit, in that bite. This would also explain the ichor that infects the water in the south end. Beetles are significantly larger than ticks, and so they might have a need to empty their stomach contents more and its more waste produced. 

Symptoms and Inspirations

The Red Plague is obviously, influenced by the Bubonic Plague in terms of symptoms and Tuberculous in treatment. I will list some of the common symptoms of Black Plague and signs and be comparing these to the Red Plague. I cannot stress enough that I do not have any knowledge in medicine but I don’t think the dev’s are all doctors so we are on even ground.

There are generally speaking three types of plagues; Bubonic (Most common type of The Black Plague and mainly targets your lymphatic system), Pneumonic (When the Plague enters and infects the lungs), and Septicemic (When the plague enters the blood stream, either form can lead to Septicemic)

Bolded Symptoms are what are obvious symptoms the Red Plague has taken from these three variations of plague. Italic is Lucio specific. 

High Fevers

Chills

Headache

Muscle Pain

Weakness

Seizures

Swollen black lymph nodes known as Buboes (Bubonic)

Internal Bleeding (Septicemic)

Gangrene (Septicemic)

Shock (Septicemic)

Vomiting Blood (Bubonic & Septicemic)

Coughing Blood & Mucus (Pneumonic)

Shortness of breath (Pneumonic) 

The Red Eyes

By far the most obvious symptom of the plague and its trademark. Consider this the equivalent of Buboes to the black plague. This is the first obvious symptom that marks you for dead and probably one of the first symptoms to show after a possible resting phase. 

Apparently it takes each eye individually as seen with Julian or it may not take both? The stage we see Julian in isn’t the clearest but I’m assuming he was rather early on with a pretty serious case. 

It’s also a debate of what exactly is going on with the red stringy bits under neath the eyes. For the sprite models it appears to be veins under the eyes that have been aggravated. While in the concept art above it has a more liquid and viscous look which is probably blood. And in Julian’s CG of him dying of the plague he has no marks around his eyes. So I’m saying its a fun combo of all of the above.

Essentially I think that the plague is causing the blood vessels in the eyes to pop and do serious damage. There can also be a foreign growth to occur behind the eyes or just magical nonsense, doing additional damage to the veins surrounding the eyes and cause bleeding from putting stress on the veins. 

The Arms and Lower Extremities

Ok, remember how I talked about Lucio’s fear of death and how its incredibly likely that the plague is manipulating his fear? In death there are various stages of decay, and different functions occur at each stage. And one of these functions is Livor Mortis. 

Livor Mortis is when your blood cells rupture out of your veins and die. These dead blood cells sink down to your body based off of gravity where they settle. This is seen as a purple color on the skin based on gravity, normally the back. This can be disrupted by any disruption to the body, but depending on time you are likely to receive lighter marks based on its previous position. 

What I think is going on all over the body is veins are rupturing and the body is going through an extreme form of living Livor Mortis. Just that it’s in red and not purple because this is the “Red Plague” and not the purple plague. And due to the patients still being alive when Livor Mortis is occurring it simply pools into the extremities instead of one specific location, with the fingers and bottom of the foot being the most severe. To add to the veins popping suddenly the subtle bruising through origin points to where the red vein-y look begins remind me of my own experience of having four veins burst in my arm. 

Julian had reason to believe he could use leeches to treat the plague and in typical plague doctor fashion of “They were right but not exactly” he was on the right track! Using leeches to drink the settled and dead blood would be beneficial to the patient. As likely leaving these areas to accumulate dead blood would put it at serious risk of rot, since maggots first grow on open wounds and areas affected by Livor Mortis. 

Julian might not have been curing the plague but what he was probably doing is preventing a lot of people from developing gangrene and needing amputations. A beneficial skill for a previous combat medic to utilize and what might have drawn additional attention to him. Julian’s uses of leeches could also explain why Lucio does not have any of these red marks since Julian is his personal doctor and Lucio would spare no expense for his treatment. 

Lucio’s Unique Symptoms 

Portia’s route mentions that due to Lucio’s longer surviving time he developed unique symptoms. We don’t know much details about this besides he was extra miserable and was confined to his bedroom most the time. From my provided list above I think that generally speaking the Red Plague is a combination of Bubonic + Septicemic plagues.

However, Pnuemonic plagues were considered especially deadly, but rarer. Lucio is described as having a cough when he has the plague and generally a wheezy voice. It wouldn’t be odd to think the plague had spread into his lungs due to the increase longevity he had. 

There is a dramatic irony in Lucio losing his lungs to sickness as well. Morga tells us about how when Lucio was very young he almost drowned and that instilled a fear of death in him at a young age. He’s also a man with a lot of stamina who can run in the freezing cold carrying a fully grown apprentice on his shoulder or run away from Morga who also possesses a lot of energy. Lucio has trained his lungs to be stronger more so than the average person, and now with his downfall he loses them. 

It goes along with his general want of having a new body as well. You can rebuild muscle mass although hard, but recovering from illnesses that target your lungs? You’ll almost never get back to the same degree you previously were. 

The imagery of the dead is also present in the animal itself used to spread the plague. Although the beetle comes from Lucio’s tribe, beetles play a role in decomposition. Beetles like to come after the body has been nearly completely rotten, after the maggots and wasps consume most of the dead flesh beetles come in and eat the scraps. Beetles are also used in skeletonizing items, one example I think of off my head is a man who had his amputated foot skeletonized by beetles for keeping.  So these beetles are coming in and spreading a plague that forces the body to go through stages of decay while living, for their own food. Just like Lucio’s tribe came in and slaughtered other tribes for their own need to eat.

The plague was handcrafted to torture Lucio for his inability to finish his end of the deal. That’s why it uses imagery of dead bodies, it steals Lucio’s lungs from him, and why even the dead can cause severe damage. 

Of course this is all my own theory and analysis of the plague but thank you for reading all of this. 

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