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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 1 year

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Whumpril 2023 - Day 26

@that-one-thespian requested this one!! I haven't gotten to play with Zuriel in a while so this was super fun c:

TWs: Blood, gore, self-sacrifice, human shield

Explosion | Short on Time | “I won’t leave you!”

Zuriel was hurt. Golden feathers dripped silvery, angelic blood onto the alleyway ground. The demon in front of Mariano was far stronger and larger than he could hope to face down. He squared his shoulders and took a breath, fire flying through his veins as his hunting knife lit up. He couldn't let one of this demon's arrows hit Zuriel.

"Mariano you, you have to get out of here." Zuriel whimpered, breath hitching as he struggled to stay standing. They'd been running, trying to find safety. The light from Zuriel's halo trembled behind Mariano.

It looked like time had run out.

"I won't leave you." Mariano said. Zuriel hadn't ever abandoned him.

Mariano darted forward, magic blasting from his other palm. It struck the horned being's face, sending them reeling back and scrabbling at their skin with pain. He leaped, swiping at their abdomen with his blade. He didn't let up.

If you give your opponents a moment to think, you've already lost.

Luis' training echoed in Mariano's head as he stabbed and slashed, gutting the being that had been so doggedly hunting them. All he had to do was injure them enough to open an escape. Bastian wasn't far, now. He was getting closer by the second. Mariano's knife darted upwards, hooking the demon's breastbone and beginning to eat through it.

Their hand caught his wrist, the other wrapping around his throat and lifting him up effortlessly. Blood poured from their body, glowing a brilliant emerald color. Eyes that matched narrowed, jagged teeth bared in glee.

"Not today, little panther." They purred, their nose almost brushing Mariano's. "You fought well though."

Effortlessly, they threw Mariano.

"No!" Zuriel shouted, staggering backwards towards Mariano as his flight abruptly ended against the alleyway wall. He dropped to the ground, stunned. "No--please..."

Zuriel looked back towards the demon, feathers trembling as he spread his wings. His stance widened as he drew his sword. The demon drew their bow.

Just behind him, Mariano shakily rose to his feet, eyes burning. He saw the twitch of the demon's fingers as a burning arrow appeared, and his body moved before he could even think. He grabbed the back of Zuriel's collar, yanking the angel backwards as he launched himself forward.

Mariano watched the demon's fingers move. He saw the glowing green arrow fly through the air. He felt the searing, acrid burn explode through his chest before he realized he'd fallen to his knees. Trembling, he reached for his shoulder, fingers passing through the wicked body of the arrow.

He couldn't stand up again. The sparks flying through his chest kept brushing against something awful and deep, like it was trying to bite at his pact with Bastian. It sapped his strength, pulled his magic away from his hands.

Zuriel was shouting something, ever-careful hands gripping Mariano's shoulders. Dazed, Mariano looked up in time to see a purple, smoky mass tackle the bloodied form of the demon. "What..." Mariano mumbled. "What was...magic?" Was Bastian there? Something else?

He heard screaming.

It almost felt like he'd taken too many pact dampeners. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open, to keep track of where Bastian was. Zuriel was hovering above him. When had he laid down?

"Keep, keep your eyes on me." Zuriel said, one hand glowing with his soft, golden magic. "Don't fall asleep. This might not feel good."

The moment that Zuriel's magic met Mariano's chest, Mariano arched off the ground. It ripped a choked scream from him, his hands twisting into his own bloodied shirt. As the green glow faded and a soft warmth replaced it, Mariano went slack under Zuriel's hands.

Zuriel's look of relief came into sharper focus as the sheer exhaustion started to ebb away. "You--is it working?" Zuriel asked, as if he hadn't expected that to help.

"I'm...you're okay." Mariano breathed. He looked the angel trainee up and down, checking for any sickly green glow. "They didn't...you're not hurt."

Zuriel shook his head, blond curls vibrating as he shook. His eyes started to fill with tears. "I'm not hurt. Don't, please don't ever do that again."

Mariano couldn't promise that. He just nodded, reaching up to pull Zuriel into a hug. As Zuriel's bloody wings shook and the shouts from outside the alleyway cut off, Mariano couldn't bring himself to promise that it would never happen again.

Not when he could survive an arrow like that and Zuriel couldn't.

#whumpril2023 #Whumprilday26 #I won't leave you #Blood #Gore #Self-sacrifice #Human shield #Mage of violence #Zuriel #Did I look at the last few prompts I needed to write and decide to make them all human shield?#Yes I did and it was a very good decision c:#I love zuriel so much #He's little and nervous also so brave and strong #Also who is that there at the end #Who have I decided can absolutely meet in my writing bc they're my barbies and this is my blog?#C:

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hummingbird-of-light · 1 year

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June of Doom Day 14

14. “What were you thinking?”

| Slurred Speech | Impalement | Fight |

TW: blood and gore, major character injury, threats of character getting eaten, major character death(s)

A/N: Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood, based on my story

His heart was beating out of his chest and he ran for his life. He had to escape! He had to get away!

Behind him, the Scotsman heard footsteps.

He was following him! The man - no... the wolf - was right on his heels!

So, Scott did the only thing he could do. He increased his speed, glancing over his shoulder over and over again.

It shouldn't have turned out like this. He had been prepared! But the wolf had been smarter and faster.

When the young Scotsman had tried to stab him with a silver blade, the wolf had instantly grabbed his wrist, had disarmed him.

And then the chase had begun.

It felt like Scotty's heart would explode any moment. He couldn't breathe. How much farther until he'd reach the safe village?

Scott yelped in surprise when suddenly, he tripped and fell.

Right into his demise.

A sharp pain shot through his legs, his arms, his stomach and chest. It was the most horrible pain he had ever endured.

He screamed out, coughing up blood. What had happened?

Without moving too much, the human looked at his surroundings.

A hole! He had fallen into a hole in the ground! And apparently it was studded with wooden stakes.

And now, Scott was impaled on them!

From up above him, he heard steps came to a halt.

"My, my... what were you thinking? That you could flee? This is my forest, pretty boy. Didn't think that there were traps of mine, did you?"

He couldn't look up, could only hear the deep taunting voice of the wolf.

That was until suddenly the creature jumped into the hole, landing right in front of him.

There was a wide grin on the face as the wolf licked his lips. He slowly started to circle his prey.

"You never stood a chance."

The Scotsman wanted to say something, but whenever he tried to make a sound, more blood escaped his mouth.

He couldn't move either. For if he did, he'd surely bleed out. He heard the wolf breathe in the scent of his blood, a satisfied moan escaping the creature.

"You see... you almost had me back there at the tree. I actually fell for you. But... in the end you're just another meal."

A hand grabbed Scott's hair and pulled his head up into a very uncomfortable position. When he opened his eyes, he saw the wolf standing in front of him again.

"Tell me... just why do you look so familar? We haven't met before, have we?"

With all the strength he had left, the Scotsman glared at his counterpart. And suddenly realization washed over the wolf's face and he laughed.

"Oh... oh! I remember! Your father, wasn't it? I knew that the smell of your blood was familar. I killed him, but... I didn't get the chance to feast on my dinner for more of you humans appeared."

Angry tears filled Scotty's eyes and he just spit some blood into the wolf's face. The cold blue eyes closed for a moment, face surprised, before they opened again. The smile returned quickly as the wolf used his fingers to wipe the blood away. A long tongue left the mouth and licked across the pale skin.

"Mhhh, tastes as delicious as it smells."

A hand found its way onto the Scotsman's cheek and stroked across it. When their eyes met, it sent a shiver down the human's spine.

He knew that it was his end. His plan had failed.

"So... you took a walk with me on purpose, huh? You wanted to... get revenge."

The wolf's face moved closer to his and Scotty swallowed hardly. If only he could move his arms and punch into that stupid face!

"Guess that didn't work out. And now..."

The wolf moved even closer and only a moment later, a voice whispered into Scott's ear.

"I will tear you apart like the traitor you are."

His counterpart got up again and moved around him.

"Where should I begin? A leg? An arm? Or maybe a bite straight into the back?"

Scotty felt panic crawl up and down his skin. He didn't want this! He didn't want to die!

"Doesn't matter, does it? The only thing that matters is, that it'll be slow and painful."

Claws buried inside his shoulder and Scotty couldn't help the scream that escaped him. He tried to move, only increasing the pain, the wooden stakes caused.

Silent tears streamed down his face, when his voice died from the all blood in his throat. He coughed, gurgling sounds following.

When the sharp teeth pierced through his flesh, he knew that he had failed.

The wolf would feast on him, just like he had planned right from the start.

But it never happened.

A loud shot rang through the air and only a second later, Scott saw the wolf collapse next to him.

He... was dead.

"Scotty!"

That voice.

He knew it. A soft smile formed on his lips. How often had he dreamed of that voice and the person it belonged to.

"L-Leonard..."

Leonard McCoy. The son of the local huntsman! He had come to save him.

But Scotty knew that his time was up. For as soon as he would close his eyes, he'd never open them again.

It didn't matter though. All that mattered was that the wolf was dead.

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caxycreations · 10 months

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Testing the Limits - A Cyrus Story

TW: Extreme Violence, Gore, Self-Harm, Physical Trauma, Strong Emotions

Cyrus turned on the camera, stepping back as Clark turned on another further back. They had set up a small recording space in a warehouse owned by Clark's family, and were preparing to test Cyrus' regenerative abilities in a way he had never even dreamed before. One of Cyrus' Wards, who was studying to become a surgeon, stood by ready to assist at any moment. Cyrus smiled as he looked at the assortment of weaponry and experiment-related gear they had brought. Blades, bludgeons, fireworks, lighters, and even a few small firearms lay across a table.

Cyrus had also done some research on species with high healing factors and discovered why he'd been so hungry after waking up from his incident: Healing took energy, and his body had exhausted a lot of it to repair the damage to his internal organs and skin. As such, he had also taken the time to prepare a mini-fridge full of carb-rich foods, and one full of water bottles. With a rare, but increasingly common smile, he stood between the two cameras and looked to the one in front of him.

"I, Cyrus Ferrick, of sound mind and body, do hereby consent to any, all, and every test and experiment being done on this day, the 17th of the first phase of Gaius, 2021. I was recently attacked. An attempted mugging, on the 29th of the second phase of Dinora, 2021. During this attack, I was stabbed two times. Once in the lower right portion of my back, in which the blade not only went in, but came out of my stomach in the process, and again in the chest, directly through the heart. As you can see..."

He paused, removing his shirt and making a slow circle for the camera. "I have no scars, no marks of any kind to indicate this is true. I have always healed rapidly, even by the standards set by those rapid healers among the axolotls. This incident sparked a curiosity. How much damage can I sustain before I require true medical attention? In other words, how long before I require outside help to repair damage?"

He motioned for Clark to come over, which his Ward did without hesitation. "This is Clark Bixtra. He is my closest friend, most trusted confidant, and a Ward of mine at the Salvatore University in Tylvin. He will be assisting me today in testing my limits. He is under strict orders to ONLY call for our other assistant-"

With another wave, he beckoned his other Ward, a cocker spaniel named Lyle. "-to help if, and only if, I am in real danger of dying, such as the event of a flatline. I have, however, left it up to his discretion as what other things may be categorized as real danger of dying. In the event of my death, however unlikely, I absolve these two of any and all legal consequences, for whatever that may be worth.

They agreed to this at my request, and we have spoken at great length about how far they are allowed to go, and how far they are willing to go. There will be no murder, nor manslaughter, during these tests. Now without further ado, I would like to begin. Clark?"

Clark nodded and the two moved off camera, with Clark returning a second later with a long-barrel lighter. He lit it, and held it up so that both cameras had a good view of it. "Test number one. High temperatures consistent with the average temperature of your basic flame."

Cyrus nodded, holding his hand against the flame of the lighter, pain visible on his face as he held his breath. As the skin burned and boiled up and began to bubble, he fought the urge to pull his hand away. When he began to, he looked to Clark and gave a teary-eyed nod. Clark grabbed at his wrist and held it in place, ensuring the hand stayed still. After several long minutes, he removed the flame and Cyrus showed his hand to the cameras.

He had since stopped crying, adjusting to the pain over time and becoming numb. Aiming his palm at the camera beside him rather than in front of him, he let it remain there until it was fully healed. The process was no less painful than the burning itself, but he smiled as the skin healed up finally, and left no marks to remind him of the flame at all.

Clark smiled and walked off-screen again to grab the next tool. Cyrus looked to the front camera with a grin, wiping tears from his eyes. "Well, as you can see, I'm fine. It...It hurt. Yes, it hurt a lot. But I am completely alright. Clark is now coming with a standard pocket knife, and I will demonstrate with it this time rather than him."

Clark chuckled, handing over the pocket knife and stepping out of view once more. "Now...As you can see..." He slashed across his palm, his wrist, his forearm, several places across his chest, his stomach, even his throat. Within seconds, each cut healed as if it never existed. "I am completely okay. Slashing proves completely useless. Stabbing fares no better, though...it does hurt a lot more."

He stabbed through his palm, letting out a pained cry as he pulled it out, then into his stomach, a grunt escaping his lips before he pulled it out once again. He repeated the process all along his arms, stomach, and shoulders, wincing as each wound healed over, none taking more than a moment to heal. Handing the knife to Clark, he took a small firecracker from him in the process.

"Once again, I am perfectly okay. This one is...This one is going to hurt. A lot...Oh boy...Okay, ready. Let's do this." As Clark lit the fuse of the firecracker, Cyrus held it in both hands tightly. When it went off, he watched as his fingers took the full force of the small explosion, and his yell was audible from outside the warehouse as he watched them tear off. His breath shaky, he took a deep breath, fighting through the pain.

"I know it looks bad. It feels worse. But...I'll be alright." Over the next several minutes, his fingers grew back, Cyrus facing the side-camera the entire time. "Gods...I don't even know who we're going to submit this to...There's so many ethical problems here it'll never get past peer review..." With a pained chuckle, he flexed his hands as they finished healing. "See? Absolutely fine. Now, for the next test..."

Clark approached with another blade, this time a scalpel. Cyrus smiled, taking it and extending his arm. With careful precision, he created perpendicular incisions, pulling it open for a moment before severing it entirely, watching as the now-missing chunk of his arm regrew over the course of the next few minutes. He smiled as he looked to the camera.

"As you can see, slashes, cuts, missing pieces...None of it is difficult to heal from. Painful to experience, of course, but easy to heal. Now...For this next part...This is why we started before dawn. Clark, please...." Clark nodded, stepping up with a rather long bowie knife.

"Clark is going to stab me in the heart. I am fully confident I will survive. I have before, and that was on an empty stomach. I ate a large, carb-rich meal before coming here, and should heal much easier now. However, should anything happen, please refer to the disclaimer at the beginning of the video. Clark...At your leisure."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I trust you, and I trust in my healing ability."

"Okay..."

With visible hesitation, Clark struggled to bring himself to do it, fear in his eyes. After a moment however, he closed them, bringing the blade down, and piercing into his Mentor's heart. With a gasp from Cyrus, Clark opened his eyes and looked at his Mentor with concern. "Out! O-Out! Pull it- Pu-pull it OUT!"

He quickly jerked the knife back, and watched as Cyrus hit his knees. This time, however, he sat back on them, steadying himself as he bled. Taking the deepest breaths he could, he did his best to avoid going into shock. As the feeling of fire spread from his heart outward, he doubled over, supporting himself on his arms and knees as he let himself cry out. As he clung to consciousness by a thread, fighting the shock and the desperation to sleep, he felt the pain slowly subside, and noticed he was no longer bleeding. Had it really healed this quickly before? Incredible...It couldn't have been more than ten minutes!

As he stood, he steadied himself against his friend. "I...I'm okay. I'm alright. As...A-As you can all s-see...I'm alive...And healing..." He faced the side-camera, the injury on his chest quickly sealing up as he did. "I'm okay." He smiled, looking to Clark who was visibly relieved. He hugged him, and Clark hugged back tightly. With renewed confidence, Cyrus pulled back and grinned.

"Final test. Firearm." Clark nodded, uncertainty in his eyes. He stepped out of view only to return a second later carrying a handgun.

"This is a common, store-bought Colt 1911. It has not been modified. Clark is going to shoot me one time in the right shoulder with this gun. We considered the possibility of a shot to the stomach or the heart, to see how my system would fare with the projectile remaining past the organ wall but not in the way of it, however our medical advisor noted it was possible the bullet could block the flow of blood if in the heart, and could make me quite sick if in the stomach. As such, we felt a shot to the shoulder would be safest, to see how my body reacts to the offending item remaining in me."

He nodded to Clark, who took aim carefully, more confident knowing this wouldn't be fatal even on the average person. As he pulled the trigger, Cyrus staggered back from the impact of the bullet and looked to his shoulder. The pain was incredibly potent, though not as hard on him as the stabbings had been. He watched, and felt, as his body tried to heal around the bullet, squeezing it tightly and eventually healing over it. With a pained groan he tried to move his arm, only to cry out as it sent burning pain throughout his entire right side.

"I...I can't move my arm without feeling like my whole side is just...on fire. I need this thing out of me, quickly." Without hesitation, Lyle stepped forward holding the scalpel. He carefully cut into Cyrus' shoulder, extracting the bullet and stepping away. As he stood there, the injury quickly healed up and once again, within seconds, looked as if it was never there. Satisfied, Cyrus reached off-screen and put his shirt on again.

"I have wanted to test the limits of my healing for some time now, and while we took precautions, I have learned quite a bit about my limits. Shock being the greatest enemy I have. I believe we have learned enough. Again, I have no idea where to put this...We may not be able to put it anywhere...But it will serve as a nice reminder of just how far I am able to go." With that, he turned off the camera and turned to Clark and Lyle.

"Thank you both. I understand it wasn't easy to watch...But I greatly appreciate what you've done for me today. I'd like to treat you both to a worthy reward. Please, think on it and when you know what I can do to repay you, tell me immediately." Lyle grinned.

"You got it, Cy! This was such an experience...I can't imagine how valuable you'd be to the medical community."

"I'm sure. Perhaps I could be your personal surgery doll, to practice on?"

"That'd be perfect! I wouldn't have to worry about messing up cause you'd just heal back by yourself!"

"Mm. Go on back to the campus. I'll meet you, say, Wednesday, 9PM?"

"Sounds great! Thanks, Cy!"

With an eager skip in his step, Lyle left the two alone as Clark looked at Cyrus, worry all over his face.

"Cyrus, you can't do stuff like this...I only agreed to help because you just...You seemed so hellbent on it. But it scared me, man. YOU scare me lately. It's like you're trying to kill yourself just to see if you CAN. I get it...You want to see how much you can take. You want to see if you're some invincible freak of nature, or just an insanely fast healer. But this? This isn't the way to do it. If something happens that should kill you, and you live, great. But I can't watch you actively search for the point of no return. Pay me back by counting me out."

Cyrus looked at his friend in shock and fear. "I...Count you out? Clark, I need you for thi-"

"I'm not arguing this! I'm telling you, flat out, I'm DONE! I won't help you fucking murder yourself just because you think it can't be done, or because you think it CAN and want to see how much it takes to do it! If it takes a gunshot or a grenade, a severed hand or a severed head, a slashed artery or disembowelment!? I don't want to find out!"

"Clark..."

"NO. I won't let you do this to yourself, Cy. You're too damn important to too many people to be taking risks like this!"

"You're right."

"STOP ARGUING!"

"I'M NOT!"

"I-...You aren't. You KNEW you were taking it too far!?"

"No! Not...Not at first, no! I got carried away, but..Gah, I won't do this again! I won't push myself this hard again! Because you're right! And I don't want to die, I don't want to put everyone through that!"

"Good. Because if you'd said anything else, I'd have knocked your ass out, dragged you back to your dorm, tied you down, and locked you in."

"A bit extreme, given-"

"Given nothing. You made me stab you in the heart, Cyrus. A person doesn't just walk away from that. I felt every inch go through you. I will carry that, FOREVER."

"I'm sorry...I didn't think about these things."

"Weeks of plan and prep, and you didn't consider how it might affect ME to do this to you."

"No, I-"

"And it's fine...Cause neither did I."

The two stood there in silence for a long while before Cyrus, giving in, stepped forward and hugged his Ward. Clark felt tears well up as he hugged back tightly.

"I don't ever want you to do something like this again."

"I never will."

"Promise me, damn it...We both know you're too stubborn to stop yourself if you haven't promised."

"I promise, Clark, I will NEVER do anything, or have anyone else do anything, that even has a CHANCE of resulting in my death."

"Good...We can't lose you, Cy..."

"I know...I know."

Tag List

Tagging these folks cause they seem to like my work! If you'd like to be added (or removed), just let me know!

@heavensfallenfaction @moremysteriesthantragedies @thetruearchmagos @a-scaly-troublemaker @leisoree

#tw gore #tw violence #relan #literature #fiction #modern fantasy #anthro #furry #writeblr #anthropomorphic #short stories #this probably isnt medically accurate #but its a magic world so #oh well

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arsonistslut · 3 years

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TW: This part of the story is inconceivably violent, so if that triggers you or you're uncomfy with this sort of stuff, please skip this chapter of my rewrite.

Chapter 18: The Killer's Rampage

CRASH!

The hospital chair proved more than effective at breaking the locked window that held him inside, the moon shining in and providing miniscule light for Jeff Woods. He knew he had to be quick to get outside, as the faculty would probably be barging into his locked room any second now,so he scrambled through the broken window frame, ignoring the glass shards cutting into his bandaged body and hospital gown as he jumped down from the room. It wasn't a long fall, as he was on the first floor of the building, so he quickly proceeded off the hospital grounds and on the road toward his house, grabbing one of the larger shards of broken glass on the ground, just in case he might've needed it. He wasn't waiting anymore. It had been far too long already.

Randy Ellsworth was still thinking over his decision to split off from Keith and Troy on his way home. His mind wandered through ideas, questions he had. Did he really hurt Keith and Troy, or were they just caught up in the moment? One thought led to another, and soon, his thoughts were back at the party. He had invited Jeff there as a peace offering, something that could keep everyone happy for a bit and let everything settle down..but he just had to do that, didn't he? He had to glass him, send him tumbling into that fire..he could only hope and pray he was doing alright. His train of thought about his transgressions was stopped when his headlights highlighted a figure walking down the road, wearing some sort of hospital gown. The figure looked like they were bleeding, so Randy pulled over and got out of the car, cautiously approaching the figure.

"H-Hello? sir, ma'am, whoever you are..you need a ride or something? I can drive you somewhere, if you want."

Randy looked at the person standing before him, before looking into their eyes..the black hair was a start, but those black, sunken-in, terrifying eyes that peered out from the bandages wrapped around their head were a dead giveaway.

"J..Jeff..is that you?"

Jeff's breathing got heavier, gripping the glass in his hand so tightly that his hand bled, until he let out a gutteral yell and charged Randy, driving the shard deep into his chest and tackling him onto his car. Randy screamed in horror and pain, and Jeff took the shard and stabbed him with it, over and over into his gut as blood sprayed onto his face and body. Ellsworth cried and screamed as Woods proceeded to reach into one of the open wounds on his body and violently string out his intestines, his guts flowing out like streamers. Randy hurled a mixture of vomit and blood onto his car, before finally perishing in the killer's grasp.

Jeff shivered as the cold nipped at him, the wind howling as he opened the door to his family's home with the spare key under the floormat. The house was much warmer than the outside, as Jeff just took a moment to soak it all in..the warmth, the stench of blood on his body, what was to come next. Making sure his footsteps were muted, he made his way to the drier and began rummaging through for clean clothes, something warm to replace his hospital gown. A white hoodie and a pair of red jeans would fit him nicely, so he threw the gown aside and slid his new clothing over his athletic frame, hissing as the cloth made contact with his tender, bandaged flesh. His spare pair of steel-toed military boots tied off the outfit quite well, so he proceeded upstairs, retrieving his switchblade from his drawer and pocketing it. He then went to the bathroom, wanting to see his face after not having seen it in over a month. When he peeled away the medical tape from his face, the sight he saw horrified him. His face..it was horrible. All of his skin was a cadaverous white, now, and the old mouth scars he had were gone, overwritten by the hypodermic scarring that had turned his body into a chilling reminder of the party that had gone terrifyingly wrong. He began to chuckle at the sight, the grisly state his face was in, before taking his switchblade and digging it into his cheeks, letting out awful sobs and laughs as bloody tears began to slide down his face.

"Who's there?"

His mother's voice called out into the darkness, and with rivers of crimson pouring from his wounds, he patiently waited. Carla turned the corner, a switchblade to the throat quickly silencing her. Her eldest son watched her gurgle and choke on her own blood, a cold, unforgiving glare meeting her gaze as she died on the floor. The cathartic sensation that washed over Jeff felt unending, his breath growing shaky as he entered his father's room. Carla had gotten out of bed and left Jeff Sr. asleep in his bed. Woods slowly approached his father, before raising his blade and driving down into his head, his father's eyes widening as he realized what was happening.

He was going to die.

Liu was asleep, downstairs, his earbuds blocking out any commotion he might've heard otherwise. He was a light sleeper, so the overpowering smell of blood and sweat that wafted into his room as his door opened was quick to wake him up. When he turned around, he saw his brother standing in the doorway, holding a blowtorch he'd surely gotten from the garage and sliding something down the back of his pants.

"Jeff..is that you? W-What're you doing here?"

A sickeningly prideful chuckle came from Jeff, turning on the blowtorch in his hand and holding it in the air so Liu could definitely see it.

"I am the devil, Liu. And I am here to do the devil's work."

Liu had no time to question his brother about anything he just heard, as Jeff had pinned down the boy with his left hand, igniting the flame of the blowtorch with the other. Then, every neuron in the boy's brain shocking him with pain as his brother rammed the blowtorch into his face, laughing at his screams and cries of pain, a smile soon charred into his face, much like Jeffrey's. Drawing his switchblade from his pocket, the elder sibling jammed the knife into Liu's shoulder, his screams delighting Jeffrey as his blood sprayed onto his face. Jeff, however, was soon knocked away by a lamp thrown at his head. He dropped the blowtorch and held the side of his head, looking to see who threw a lamp at him. He had just enough time to make out Natalie's face as she then struck Jeff with a wrench, knocking him even further back. Liu's body slumped off his bed as Woods tried to kick Natalie away, to no avail when she struck his ankle aside.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!"

She cried out as blows from her wrench followed, each one more and more painful than the last. However, Jeff had an ace up his sleeve. Reaching into the back of his pants, he grabbed his father's 1911 pistol and pressed it against her cheek.

"Go to sleep, bitch!"

The gunshot that then rang out was deafening, Natalie screaming as her face bled, both of her cheeks blasted open by the 45. ACP that was shot right into her face. Jeff groaned as he stood up, his body still aching from those wrench strikes, and reached down to Nat's face, gripping her right eyeball and beginning to yank it out of her head. With a disgusting snap of her eye's optic nerve, he succeeded, dropping the eyeball next to her. Natalie screamed until her vocal cords no longer let her, Jeffrey running his bloody, bandaged fingers through his hair without a single notion of guilt for his terrible crimes as she eventually passed out from blood loss. With 3 people surely dead at his hands for sure and 2 more in a less certain state, Jeff proudly smiled as he wrote a message in blood on one of the walls, Liu's sobs the only audible sound in the house.

"Why...? Jeff, why did you do this?"

Jeffrey turned to his brother..his crying, bleeding, surely dying brother. A member of his own family, laying in a pool of his own gore. He just looked at Liu, unable to conjure an answer.

"...Why?! Answer me, damnit.."

As Jeffrey began to walk toward the front door, he internally struggled to find an answer for Liu's pleas. The truth was..he didn't have an answer. These were crimes he committed out of impulse, out of a blind hatred he felt for the world. Jeff felt that his brother hated him anyways, so the truth wouldn't change anything. He slowly walked out of his home, not a single word leaving his lips as his brother pleaded for a reason for his killings.

Jeff had a moment of peace outside, his hoodie shielding his body from the cool winds around him. Then, he saw an old '68 Dodge Charger pulled over on the side of the road, and when he caught sight of Keith Winchester at a nearby payphone, he knew killing him would get rid of the aches his body faced from Natalie's attack, and take Liu's seeming demise off his mind. The car's hood was up, and as he got closer, Jeff was able to catch a glimpse of Troy trying to fix the engine.

"Yeah, our car's broken down and it needs to be towed somewhere it can be worked on. Yeah, we're on-"

Keith suddenly felt the phone cord wrapped tightly around his neck, Jeffrey strangling the life out of the boy from behind. The chuckle that sounded out from behind signaled to Keith that somehow, someway, Jeffrey was out of that hospital.

"I can't decide, whether you should live or die~ Oh, you'll you'll probably go to heaven, please don't hang your head and cry~"

The cord tightened around his throat, as Jeff softly sang into his ear, he desperately tried calling out to Troy, but the boy was unable to.

"No wonder why my heart feels dead inside, it's cold and hard and petrified!~ Lock the doors and close the blinds, we're going for a ride~"

Winchester eventually grew limp in the killer's arms, so Woods dropped him to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Hey, Keith! I think it's the timing belt, it got fucked all the way up!"

No response.

"...Keith? You okay?"

A series of hard thumps running up the car was the eventual response he got. Before he could even scream, the stick holding the trunk up snapped as Jeff jumped on top, crushing Troy's hands inside with a sickening crunch, the bones in his hands shattering under the combined weight of the heavy hood as well as Jeff's full body weight. Troy yelled at the top of his lungs in pain, his horror only growing as he saw the mess that was his assailant's face. Woods squatted down so he could talk to the poor bully face to face.

"Hi, Troy! How are ya? Hey, quit screaming, I'm talking here."

When Troy didn't stop, Jeff shook his head in annoyance.

"Okay, how about we teach you some anatomy, huh? It takes about.."

His bandaged hand took hold of one of Troy's ears, ripping it clean off.

"15 PSI to rip off a human ear. The same applies for both, actually! Why Mike Tyson was able to bite his opponent's ear off so easily."

As he talked, he ripped off his victim's other ear, reaching into his mouth as he cried and then yanking out his tongue, throwing it aside with disgust.

"That was your tongue, won't be needing that anymore..now, for the teeth! Good God, your teeth are bad..they aren't usually piss yellow, lemme just.."

Two punches to the boy's mouth and a face slam onto the car's hood loosened one of his front teeth enough that Jeff was able to yank out one of his front teeth, the blood flying out of the stump Troy once called a tongue soddening Wood's bandages with even more blood, to the point where they were beginning to fall off his hand and reveal the burnt, pale skin underneath.

"There! Now, it takes about 1,000 to 1,250 pound-feet of torque, or force if you're a neanderthal, to break a human neck! Here, I'll show you!"

Jeff then slid his hands into position, finally ending Keith's misery by breaking his neck, killing him instantly.

"I think this surgery went pretty damn well!"

The killer hopped off the hood of the car and continued down the road, his mission becoming clear in his head. It wouldn't be long before the police caught up to him, so before they found him, he needed to hit one last place.

Ingrid groaned as she made her way downstairs, having decided to crash at Jane's place for a bit since she recently got thrown out of her house. She began rummaging through the freezer when she heard the wail of several police cruisers speeding past.

"What's with all the cops at this hour?"

She went to look out the window, but a hand soon clasped over her mouth, a knife quickly slitting her throat as well. As her blood dribbled from her throat, her attacker spun her around so he could look at her..look at the girl Jeff felt he was replaced by.

"You..You took my Janey away from me..and now, she'll die for her nerve, to leave me when she knew I had issues, and you'll die for daring to touch her!"

3 more strikes to the neck followed, Ingrid's head coming clean off and rolling along thee floor after the 3rd slash connected. Jeffrey took a look around the house Jane brought him to when they were together during one of the only meaningful relationships Jeffrey had. So many hateful, vile thoughts ran through his head as he grabbed a canister of gas from the garage and 2 chairs. He used the chairs to barricade Jane and her parents in their rooms, before pouring the gasoline around the house. Jeff then struck a match he found in a kitchen, walking outside and carelessly dropping the matchbox as he went. He gazed into the small flame for what felt like ages, all the memories he had with this house flashing before his eyes as he threw the match on the gasoline. An inferno quickly started, Woods turning around and walking away as his former lover's house burned. 3 police cars soon pulled up to the burning home, the officers seeing the blood-soaked perpetrator of the crime calmly walking down the driveway.

#creepypasta #jeffery woods #liu woods #jeff the killer #clockwork #sully #tw so much violent murder omg #i think i went overboard

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

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Eight Tries //Obey Me Yandere! Asmodeus x reader //

Thank you so so much for this wonderful prompt @feedmestraycats. Icon made by the lovly @bbelphie!

TW: attempted suicide, mention of rape/noncon, gore, murder, cheating

This was getting old, he still wasn't home and there was no point in pretending that he was just running late. No, you knew that your husband was not coming back home tonight, maybe if you were lucky you would find him passed out on the couch sometime in the late afternoon once you returned from the marketplace.

There was no reason to spend the dreary and dull night alone. If that spoiled hero you called a husband could be spending such a gorgeous night, out with some prostitute from the slums then you could also be having some naughty fun~

--To call your current like a nightmare was an understatement. People awake from nightmares, they could open their eyes and be back in the safety of their warm beds, next to the person they loved. But the second your eyes opened you entered a hell on earth, there wasn't any escape, no freedom...and the worst part was that there was not a single soul to comfort you--

Five red candles set in a circle each one a blase with a tiny passionate flame. Two twigs inserted parallel to one another, caging in the dried corpse of a scorpion. Next is the demon's sacred seal written in the summoner's blood, elegantly and delicately. Sprinkle it with salt and state the ungodly words. "Oh, great Asmodeus lord of love, aviator of lust, I become thee come forth to me, I offer you my body and soul"

--You had been born to a noble family in a small and rather poor town. Despite the town economical standpoint, the natives were tremendously kind and neighborly. Everyone shared whatever little of anything they may have had. Your family, in particular, was the most charitable. Giving and giving as much as humanly possible. When it came time for you to chose a husband, your father requested you marry someone from the town, someone you truly loved disregarding how poor or wealthy they may be. Marry for love he insisted but keep it in the family. Regardless to say that's what you did. You found a man and fell in love, married a month later in a joyous celebration in which the whole town had been invited to....but then HE came along--

The circle in front of you puffed with a cloud of thick pink smoke. It invaded your sense, plunging into your mind and sending waves of ecstasy. It was a rush pure lust was infected into your entire body...

but then it stopped, neglecting your corpse and leaving you you confused and sweaty. It was in that eerie moment that the demon decided to manifest himself. He stood tall in all his glory, petite bat wings spread out. If it weren't for the dark shadow and uncharacteristic bitter frown spread thinly across his face, he would have looked as beautiful and perfect as the first miserable night you played eyes on him.

--In the dead of night Asmodeus had murdered your husband in clod blood. He had made you watch as he shredded your lover's corps leaving only a messy pile of blood and organs on the bed. But that had not been enough for the lord of lust. On that same blood-soaked bed he had defiled you, raped you and stolen what was meant for the man who's blood you now laid in, a weeping mess reeking of that demon's stench. Your parents had found you the following day. They were sent into an accentuated frenzy. How could such a horrifying thing happen? By the following year, you'd been wed again, only for Asmodeus to return on the night of your marriage and decimate your new husband. By the fourth accurations, the townsfolk had deemed you cursed, at first they tried all that they could to save you from this dreadful beast. But all too soon it had turned into a competition. "Who could marry the nobleman's daughter and survive the next day." Desperate to wed you off your parents accepted any challenger who arrived....and each was dead by the morning of your marriage. By the sixth time, the townsfolk had already tried to kill you on multiple occasions. The sweet and caring town you knew had been annihilated replaced by this bitter, angry village of unkind and untrusting residents. And Asmodeus? Well, he'd made a game out of this, each time he'd find a new grisly way to slaughter your new husband and a new repugnant way to rape you. By the seventh husband, you'd already attempted four suicides. All resulting in fallierur, by some black miracle that dreadful demon was always able to save you and keep you alive. All hope was lost or so it seemed.--

"He's out again..." Was there any need to explain why you'd summons him. Over the last two years since your wedding to the "hero", these summonings had been almost routine.

"Of course he is darling~ did you really think you were enough to satisfy him? hm?"

The words stabbed your heart like a million needles at once, the reality was all too fragile and could come crumbling down at any given time. You had never been enough, this was a well-known fact at this point. You had never been enough for your lovers, parents or town's people and now you weren't even enough for your own husband, the man that had saved you from all your miseries.

"Love, he's a hero. Hero's don't settle down and live domestic lives with their loved ones and children. They need the torture of missions and anguish of journeys to feel alive. When they leave it all behind they wind up as hollow husks filling out the rest of their existence with alcohol and street women."

--After having prayed to God for too many days and nights to count, he's finally sent you a hero. Tobias was sent to vanquish the demon Asmodeus and merry you as a reward. At the time you'd all thought he had succeeded, that the avatar of lust was really dead. The thought had brought you joyous days and depressing nights. A part of you was beyond thankful that he was finally gone. The other half missed and longed for his lips on yours, for his hands brushing against your skin, the feel of his honey-colored lock tangled in between your fingers. You missed your tormentor...

At first, you and Tobias had been like any young couple so in love to notice the conflict of the world around you, so in love to disregard each other's sharp edges. So in love, until you were no longer. The first year had been sweet and peacful, every day was a harmonious dream...but then Tobias started coming home late, neglecting your presence. Some nights he wouldn't return at all and you'd run into town finding him in some pub drunk and with some random woman clinging to him. You spent those nights crying yourself into fitful revolting dreams of happiness and death. The old pre-suicidal habits had returned. One night the blade slipped and slashed a vain to deep, mentally exhausted you simply laid there waiting for the blood to run out. That's when you saw him again. Over the years he hadn't changed one bit, flirty smile and reddish-yellow eyes still playful and dark. He'd brought you back again and stayed with you until morning. The occurrence repeated it's self like clockwork until one night it was no longer dying and talking but summoning and...more. It felt right to feel him all over you again. His toxic presence made you feel complete, filling up holes in your soul.--

Asmodeus stalked closer, arms slinging in that all too causal way. You didn't dare take a step back, having played this game enough times to know every result before it even sprouted.

"(Y/N) why won't you listen to me! How dense do you have to be to repeat the same mistake eight times! Eight freaking times before it dawns on you that you are wrong! You will always be wrong! No worthless human or "holy hero" can ever love you as I do. I'm the only one. I'll always be the only one!"

Your brain screamed that he was wrong, that you could have had a prouspoures, dazzling life had he not killed your first husband or second or even third. Ir was his fault that your beloved town had been plagued with riots and corruption. He taught your people to sin, to ignore the words of God and his angels! Yet your cracked heart knew that he was right, no man would ever love you again... hey all married you for some selfish obligation or another. And Tobias....Tobias was the worst of all. He was forced to marry you by the holy on. Thrust into a loveless marriage with the suicidal "beauty" he was forced to save. Why couldn't God have just killed you all those years ago? Given the poor "Miss wanna die" her sole wish. He was right, this MONSTER was had always been right! No one loved you. You were less than the rubble under people's feet. Even noble god had turned his back on you...but he, this evil demon...Asmodeus had always come back for you. Hw stole your innocence, your purity, your life! your destiny was forever ruled by him. Maybe that's what you were so constantly in pain and isolation. You were trying to outrun your furutre. Why? What was the point of escaping your inevitable faith? Let it go, submit, your miserable life would finally become less of a burden. Give up, hand over the crumpled misery you called life to Asmodeus, let him take over. It would all finally be over. No more pain, loneliness, the misery would come to a sweet end!

In a daring, insanity driven moment you lunged yourself forward gripping Asmodeus' toned shoulders with all your strenghth. Fingernails digging deeper and deeper into his creamy skin. Crashing your lips onto his, trying to let the kiss speak for you. Begging he would comprehend your actions, praying he would accept your submission. In no time he took over, dominating the kiss, slipping his wet muscle into your mouth. Running his larger hands to your lower back. Dipping lower and lower, squeezing anything he could get his hand on. He was the one to (shockinly) break the kiss. He slowly pulled away leaving behind a thin string of saliva. His lush lips were pulled into a smug smirk, his eyes were lightening up with the most joy you'd ever seen. Forcefully he pulled you closer to his chest. Holding your head where his heart would have been.

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caxycreations · 10 months

Text

The Immortal and The Kage

TW: Graphic violence, gore, fighting

Peter watched as his mark stepped ever-closer to the alley. Given the fact he'd been attacked in this very spot not all that long ago, it was surprising he would risk it again. He muttered under his breath, a spark of irritation flashing in his eyes.

"Arrogant bastard..."

As Cyrus stepped just in front of the alley, Peter struck, lunging forward and swinging hard into the tribrid's stomach. Cyrus doubled over in pain and surprise, only to be thrown by deceptively strong arms further into the alleyway. As he stumbled and staggered forwards, he lost his footing and fell. Slowly standing up, Cyrus barely had time to get onto his hands and knees as he was kicked, harder than the punch had been by far, forcing him to cough up a fair bit of bile. As he looked up, he saw his attacker was masked, and could hardly even make out the shape of their head due to the darkness. All he could see were the eyes, which radiated a near lustful sadism.

"Heard you can't die. How 'bout we check!?"

Cyrus, for once, felt a pang of fear. However, the man didn't seem to be armed. He was allowed to stand, and as he righted himself he let out a sigh of annoyance. An unarmed opponent could never outpace his healing factor. No matter how quick they might hit him, bruises and cuts from blunt forces never lasted longer than it took for the offending instrument to reel back from the swing.

"You really think you're going to push me that far?"

There it was again...The arrogance, the sheer confidence...On some level, self-confidence was respectable, but this raw overestimation of himself, and the intense underestimation of his opponent, did little more than piss Peter off.

"I sure do."

Peter grinned, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a switchblade. As he darted forward, Cyrus spread his arms to his side and allowed himself to be impaled directly in the stomach. With a groan, he quickly wrapped his arms around his attacker and gritted his teeth.

He knew this guy was tough, but taking a knife to the gut in stride like that? Peter grinned, twisting the blade sharply. Whatever plan Cyrus had melted away as he let go of Peter, reaching between them with a scream. Grabbing at the knife, he fought Peter's motions as hard as he could, but was unable to keep the blade still. He finally jerked back, pulling himself off the knife and breathing heavily, trembling for a moment as his wound healed.

"So you do heal fast...Good! Means I get to enjoy this!"

Without a moments hesitation, Peter rushed forward, stabbing rapidly at Cyrus with a sick grin across his face beneath the mask. Time and time again, the knife pierced the tribrid's flesh, slashing, stabbing, twisting, carving. Each time, Cyrus stepped further back until he was pinned to the wall of one building, and finally Peter relented.

"You really don't care if you get carved up, huh? What about that buddy of yours? Carl? Carson...Clark! Think Clark would mind if I cut him up a little~?"

Finally he got what he wanted. Cyrus seemed shocked at first, but his shock was quickly replaced by anger. He rushed at Peter, and as Peter thrust the blade forward, Cyrus let out a cry of anger as he swung his fist hard. With a sickening pop and a resounding thud, his knuckles met Peter's jaw. Rather than pulling his arm back, he followed through completely and as Peter rubbed his jaw and looked back to his toy, he saw what had caused the popping sound. Cyrus' right arm was somewhat longer than his left now, and was hanging limply at his side. Cyrus simply grabbed at his arm and shoved it, and with a pop similar to the first, it was back in place.

"Damn, you hug me for trying to kill you, but I just threaten your pal and you dislocate your arm just to take a crack at me? You have a little fire in you after all!"

"You talk too much."

Another pop, another thud, and Peter was ducking low, only to find his chin meeting painfully with Cyrus' knee.

With a laugh, Peter wiggled his jaw a bit, making sure it hadn't been dislocated or broken, and satisfied with his lack of damage, he rushed at Cyrus again, easily dodging yet another punch and now weaving to the side of the rising knee, he thrust the knife upward, embedding it in the man's stomach and dragging upward hard. As his stomach was torn open, Cyrus cried out and quickly popped his arm back into place. As he held himself closed, Peter stabbed at his arms and hands, eager to make him let go to allow his guts to spill. Despite Peter's efforts, Cyrus gritted his teeth, holding on tightly as he healed at an agonizingly slow rate. After what felt like eternity, his stomach finally healed up and he looked to Peter.

"What's wrong, don't you like being a pincushion?"

He pushed forward again, pinning Cyrus to the wall once more.

"You have a lot of fight in you, but none of it's for yourself. I can respect that. But a little self-preservation-"

He raised a hand, plunging the knife into Cyrus' neck, through his jugular.

"Goes a long way."

The tribrid hadn't even tried to block, or escape. Peter felt his enjoyment drain as he realized the fight was over, and as he watched the body drop to the ground, he kicked it once more in the chest as hard as he could. A stab like that and a shock to the heart should do the trick. Especially with the knife keeping him from healing over. Though left unsatisfied with the anticlimactic finish, he turned to walk away. Halfway to the far end of the alley, he heard a pained groan and the sound of a blade leaving the wound. Turning and sprinting back to the scene of the fight, he saw Cyrus sitting up and pulling the blade out. With a grin, he jumped, extending his legs straight out and planting his feet firmly against the tribrid's face, dropkicking his head into the wall. Getting up, he noticed the knife had been pulled free, and Cyrus' neck was healing rapidly. Picking up his victim, he slammed him against the wall, hard.

"You just won't stay dead, will you? That's fine. That's perfect!"

He spun, throwing Cyrus down the alleyway before grabbing the knife and running over. Cyrus coughed up a bit of blood, and before he could get up, he found himself pinned with his attacker on top of him. Stabbing at Cyrus, Peter deliberately aimed for key points. The joints of his bones, sliding the knife just beneath the skin, severing the thinnest layers of skin from the first layers of muscle, even piercing his heart a couple of times. As Cyrus gasped and cried out, tears running down his eyes, Peter let out a laugh. The sound of his pleasure was sadistic, malicious, and to Cyrus sounded entirely demonic. After several long seconds, Peter finally stood. Cyrus' body was half covered in blood, many injuries, or the lack thereof, obscured by it. Peter, finally satisfied, took a deep breath and retracted the blade of his knife before putting it back in his pocket.

"You survive that, and we're going to have some problems."

As his injuries healed, Cyrus had fought every instinct to close his eyes and give in. He had fought as hard as he could to retain consciousness. As Peter stopped his assault, Cyrus grabbed the other male by the head and pulled himself up while pulling Peter down, slamming his head against his attacker's as hard as he could. With a crack, Cyrus felt his skull fracture. If the headache and triple vision were any indication, he'd also given himself a concussion. However, that meant it was likely he'd done the same to his opponent. With what little strength and lucidity he had, he rolled them over, putting himself on top as Peter recovered from the blow to his head. He hardly had time as Cyrus slammed his head down onto him again, and again, and again. Finally, Cyrus let go and stood, stumbling and falling against the wall of the building. Peter, for his part, lay there to gather his bearings. A concussion was nothing. He just had to rest a second, and he could follow the bastard.

Cyrus made it to the end of the alleyway just as a car drove past. With a screech, they stopped to check on the blood-soaked creature. The sound of the car stopping, and the voices that followed, alerted Peter, and he quickly scrambled up. The last thing he needed was to get caught. Grabbing his knife and putting it away once more, he ran out of the other end of the alleyway, using the wall to steady himself.

He would have to keep tabs on that thing. Whatever Cyrus was, Peter couldn't allow it to exist outside of his control. This wouldn't be his last meeting with that freak.

Notes

Another old one, but this one is actually still within canon! The details are still up-to-date, so while it may be an older piece, and one I may go back and re-write to improve, it's entirely current. ^-^

Tag List

Tagging these folks cause they seem to enjoy my work ^-^ Let me know if you would like to be added to the list!

@heavensfallenfaction @moremysteriesthantragedies

#relan #literature #fiction #modern fantasy #furry #anthro #anthropomorphic #writeblr #short stories #violence #tw violence #tw #tw gore #gore

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