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princess-ibri · 1 year

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So I've noticed you've found some very clever and downright brilliant ways to weave Sofia the First and its lore into your Disneyverse, which makes me wonder if you have any headcanons about what Sofia and the other child characters from the show might be like as teens and adult.

Thanks!! I'm glad you're enjoying them :) I'll admit I don't currently have any real story ideas for them apart from Sofia continuing her roles as the Storykeeper and as a Protector. But here's some designs for the Enchancia siblings as adults!

And adult Storykeeper Sofia

Actually, though I don't have any headcanons about Sofia's future I have had one about Enchancia's past for a while now. Basically I've decided in my DisneyVerse it was the home of the girl from the "Girl Without Hands" fairytale, who found sanctuary in the magic tree that would become the Secret Library, and her son, inspired by all she had to overcome, dedicates his life to ensuring as many happy endings as he can for others and becomes the first Storykeeper.

For those who don't know, The Girl Without Hands is a fairytale where a man sort of accidentally trades his daughter to the devil (in this it would be the demon Voland, a main background villain in my DisneyVerse). But since she's pure the devil can't take her, but through a series of unfortunate events due to him she ends up losing her hands :s (they'd probably be magiced off or something in this, but then again Disney has gone dark before, but either way no gruesomeness would be shown on screen).

The girl wanders for a while but comes under the care of an angel who helps her (a Windwalker in this version since they're the Everrealm version pretty much) and eventually causes her to meet a kind young king who falls love with her and makes hers her a pair of silver artificial hands.

They're happy for a few years until the King is called away to war and the Queen has her first child. At which point the devil comes back and makes trouble again thar causes them to be separated for several years, the queen forced to flee with her child far from the kingdom to save their lives. They end up under the care of the angel again, (lead by the Windwalker to the magical tree) and yeats later are reunited with the King who never stopped hoping they were still alive. And they live happily ever after.

(Added things in my version--the girl, named Manon, has her hair turn white after escaping Voland due to the trauma she's endured, and years later her son Sorrow (his actualname in the fairytale) ends up trapping Voland in a magical mirror, which is in fact the Magic Mirror that ends up in the Evil Queen's hands centuries later)

#asks #my art #disney #DisneyVerse #sofia the first #princess amber #prince james #enchancia #storykeeper #the girl without hands #brothers grimm #fairytales #magic mirror #voland #disney ocs #tw physical harm #tw physical violence #windwalker

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writingquestionsanswered · 8 months

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In a setting I work with, certain people have the ability/trait to come back to life after they die. Their body sort of stitches back together, and when they "come to" afterwards, they experience a great amount of pain + mental (or physical?) shock afterwards as a byproduct of it all.

I'm having trouble conveying all this information when it comes down to actually describing their pain when this happens, though. I understand in my head what occurs, but actually describing out any acute, horrible pain to a good extent is hard for some reason.

I guess tldr, do you have tips for delivering details of pain and physical trauma to a reader in a way that makes it feel like it matters?

Sorry if this doesn't make sense. My English writing isn't always great.

Delivering Details of Pain and Physical Trauma

Any time you want an impactful description, you want to think about the sensory details. So, when this character comes to after stitching back together:

What do they see? Is their eyesight blurry? Does the light hurt their eyes? Do they recognize their surroundings? Do they see any clues on their body or in their surroundings as to what happened/what's happening to them?

What do they hear? Is their blood rushing in their ears? Are their ears ringing? Does everything sound really loud or muted? Do they hear any familiar sounds? Any scary sounds? Any sounds that clue them into what happened/what's happening?

What do they smell? Do they detect the coppery smell of blood? Do they smell any byproduct of whatever happened/is happening to them? Do they smell anything familiar that clues them into where they are? Do they smell anything alarming that makes them worry about where they are?

What do they taste? The acrid taste of bile rising in their throat? The metallic taste of blood on their tongue? The salt of sweat or tears? The bitter after taste of a chemical or medicine? The sweet taste of juice given by someone to revive them?

What do they feel? Are they on a hard, cold surface? A soft, warm bed? Do they feel the air on their naked body? Do they feel the fabric of a strange garment? Can they feel the tautness of their newly stitched together skin? Do they feel like they're having an out-of-body experience? Is their heart pounding against their chest? Do they have a roaring headache?

And finally, don't forget emotional details... what do they feel emotionally and what are they thinking? Different emotions have different internal and external cues. For example, an internal cue of fear can be a racing heartbeat, and an external cue of fear can be eyes flicking around nervously. You can do a search for One Stop for Writers Emotion Thesaurus to get some samples of different emotions and their cues. Or, you can pick yourself up a digital or print copy of the Emotion Thesaurus by Angela Ackermann and Becca Puglisi.

I hope that helps!

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#tw death #tw pain #tw trauma #tw physical harm #tw blood #wqaadvice

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inkblot22 · 7 months

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Jamil Headcanons

Hmm. This would have been a lot longer if I had no self-control or the desperate need for sleep. Enjoy! (It also just dawned on me that it should be more sensible for me to be more scared of Jamil than of Rook, Floyd, or Jade, and I now think this is a very funny thought. Anyways-)

This one is sort of brutal, so TW for yandere, captivity, betrayal (?), physical abuse, emotional abuse, kidnapping, drugging, bone breaking, and a hint of Stockholm syndrome.

I like to think that when Jamil becomes lovesick for someone, that person already likes him. Between the two of them, you would think that you were the creepier one in this situation, since your little schoolkid crush on him has devolved into your every waking thought being consumed by him, his smug little smirk, the way his eyes change color in the light, the silkiness of his hair… it goes on and on and you can’t sleep without seeing him in your dreams.

While that sounds fine and dandy, it isn’t. You’re trying to keep it a secret because you’re pretty certain Jamil only wants to be friends, floating by on the thin hope that your feelings will fade with time, but Kalim’s narrow behind has caught onto the fact that you like his one-sided best friend and has made it a point to obliviously make your life a living hell.

It comes to a head when you’re hanging out at Scarabia one afternoon, Jamil comes in to serve the two of you tea- you because he considers you a friend and Kalim out of nothing but duty- and Kalim opens his big mouth and just blurts out your secret.

“Did you know that they like you?” If you could die on command, you would. You want the earth to swallow you whole, but because your nerves hate you just as much as the universe, you end up just sweating as though you entered a volcano and laughing awkwardly as Jamil sniffs and responds in the worst way possible.

They always say that the worst someone can say when you ask them out is no. They never say what the worst thing someone can say when you get ratted out for your borderline obsession for them. Jamil answered that question very easily.

“What? I knew they were a creep, but I didn’t know that I was their target.”

Yeah… So it only makes sense that you decide to give him space. A lot of space. He doesn’t see you for several weeks and he is not pleased by your decision to avoid him.

Where you believe he thinks you’re a raving, drooling stalker, he sees someone pathetic who admires him, as he should be admired. And losing that admiration is something he doesn’t handle very healthily.

In those weeks that you don’t see him, he’s snappy, more sardonic than usual, seeing his classmates and even some of those who he respects as writhing maggots wasting his time. All he wants to see is your shy smile as you compliment him for something minor.

A lifetime of receiving nothing but disdain or flat apathy for doing his best has caused something of a fever to engulf him when he loses the one person whose opinion he cares about.

So he devises a plan- it’s easy. You have a bad habit of compromising your comfort for other’s, so he asks Kalim to throw a party and invite you.

Predictably, you show up. He hands Kalim a drink and asks him oh-so-nicely to give it to you. Kalim’s so amicable, he does exactly as told, and you’re so…pathetic, so you drink it all without question.

You’re slumped against the wall in minutes. You rouse in his room, tied by your wrists and ankles, barefoot and jacketless with a pounding headache.

The room reeks of his skin- a mixture of fresh soil, star anise, and mellow molasses. You figure out where you are almost immediately.

And he enters. And your mind immediately goes to panic mode.

See, where he sees you and is pleased by your presence, you see him and believe that he brought you here to kill you.

It’s illogical. Completely bonkers. But after not seeing him for nearly a month and having your last interaction be so bad? It only makes sense that maybe he wants to hurt you.

Besides that, Jamil is a champ at holding grudges. That’s one of his many talents. He can hold a grudge as though it’s sewn to his skin.

So, unlucky you, for pissing him off by avoiding him. He sort of just talks down to you for a few hours, feeds you some really delicious saffron rice (which he will never tell you he slaved over,) and then unties you so you can go to the bathroom.

That last one struck you as strange, but it makes sense when you reenter his main room and his hand latches onto the back of your neck, dragging you towards his bed. He wrestles you down, ties your arms behind your back, then ties your legs- loosely at first.

He tightens the bonds after he gags you with both a rag and duct tape and stacks your legs, one knee over the other, before he turns to retrieve a few other items.

A railroad spike, the sharp end ground down, two scraps of cloth and some foam padding, and a mallet.

He smooths the fabric and padding down on your knee before lining the blunted spike up with your knee and giving it one strong stroke of the hammer.

You scream, the sound still loud beyond your gag, and Jamil’s lips quirk into a smirk as he tells you everything will be just fine. And then he strikes down with the hammer again.

See, he could have just hypnotized you for this. He could have decided that this was something he didn’t want you to remember, but you pissed him off.

How dare you not spend time with him! How dare you avoid him after he called you a creep! He deserves your attentions and affections, because despite you thinking he didn’t know and simply wanted your friendship, he knew. He knew and enjoyed the special attention you gave him. But you just had to get your feelings hurt when he called you what you were.

So he breaks your kneecap with one more strong, sure strike of the hammer and sews your leg closed as you sweat and drool and howl and cry under your gag, delirious from pain and unable to think clearly. Pain itself is a great painkiller. You don’t even feel the needle.

Jamil secures your leg, splinting your knee and making sure the wound is clean. He waits for you to calm down before he smiles sweetly at you and shows you his pointer finger as though you are a child.

“If you ever want to walk again, don’t try moving.”

So you don’t. Once your leg heals, you walk with a pretty severe limp, and some days it hurts so bad that you can’t move at all.

And Jamil is always there to support you… even when you piss him off.

He punishes you when you do. Punishments are not something that a caring boyfriend doles out, but Jamil is not really a "caring boyfriend" and will treat you like dirt in a heartbeat.

He’ll smack you around, and when that doesn’t work, he gets creative- sitting up all night with one of his coconut-scented candles in your grasp, disregarding your comfort when tending any injuries you have, hiding the broom after he asked you to clean so he can pretend to be even angrier when he gets back…

The list goes on, but his favorite warning is a well-placed gut-kick.

Jamil is harsh, and he’s not particularly kind. He knows you prefer being around him when he isn’t insulting you with every other word in that unimpressed voice of his, but he can’t help it.

You just look so cute when you cry.

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reliquaryofflesh · 3 months

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Let’s play Fight Club. Slap, punch, kick, slam each other into the walls and tackle each other to the floor. And then let’s fuck nasty. Or nicely. I don’t care let’s just fuck after we beat each other up. Press our aching bodies together, kiss with bloody lips and caress with red-knuckled hands. Maybe fall asleep battered and spent in each others arms and wake up sore but satisfied.

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ravenzeppeli · 16 days

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Claimed

Chapter 27 - A Crack in My Heart |Illuso x Reader Fluff|

Warning: strong/violent language, threats, dark situations, nudity, blood. MA.

Illusos POV

Illuso felt anger rise throughout his body as he gently pulled down your pants, revealing underwear that was stained with your blood. What could you possibly have done to deserve this? "Why?" He muttered, hesitating to pull down your underwear, afraid to see the full damage.

You attempted to pull your pants up, causing Formaggio to grab your hand, refusing to grab your left hand, the cast being a reminder of what he did to you. "I'll call him once she tells us what happened. Go on, tell us." You were silent, your face blank, but Illuso could tell you were close to crying. "I'll call Melone and get him to come over here."

"He said my jeans were too tight," you replied, causing Illusos' face to go pale. He.. beat you because he didn't like the pants that you were wearing?

Illuso nodded his head, walking past you as he snatched up Formaggio phone as it rang again, answering it. "You know where she is, so come over here. Come over here so I can break your fucking nose," he snapped into the phone. "What's your fucking problem!? I saw her jeans earlier bitch, they were fine!"

"You wanna fight me!?" Prosciutto snapped into the phone. "You punched her in the face a few months ago! What's your fucking problem!? You should be thanking me for punishing her!"

"Illuso, you can't do that!" You said, attempting to actually snatch the phone away from his ear. "Just relax! Why would you care anyway!? I came here to talk to Formaggio originally!"

Illuso had this permanent label on him of being an abusive piece of shit because he punched you and allowed Formaggio to break your fingers. He never thought he'd love you this much, and now that he does, he regrets those things deeply. Despite being a violent man, he didn't want to hurt you anymore. He just wanted you to love him. He wanted you to go to him for problems.

"Just let me fucking talk to her, she left her goddamn phone and everything else over here!" Prosciutto yelled, his voice stern, pissing Illuso further off. "Let me goddamn talk to her!"

"Fuck you, Formaggio and I are gonna keep her. And we're gonna keep her as long as we want. You can't talk to her. Don't come over here or we'll go outside and handle this like men," Illuso snapped into the phone, handing the phone to Formaggio. "Make sure that he knows I'm serious."

Formaggio took the phone, pressing it up to his ear, walking down his hallway. "Yeah, I know he punched her, and I know I've done things to her too, but that's besides the point! You beat her ass that badly over jeans!? She's staying here, and you aren't coming here. Illuso is serious. He only punched her because he was drunk anyway!" He heard a door slam shut, Formaggio's voice becoming muffled as Illuso turned his attention back towards you.

He sighed.. he wasn't mad at you. Why would he be mad at you? "Baby," he muttered, "can I see how badly it is?" He didn't want to see.. he was scared to see how badly you were hurt. He didn't like this.. it made him feel sick to his stomach to know that you were beat so badly. Again. "I just.. I'm not trying to be creepy. I promise."

You turned your face and body fully away from him, you slowly peeling the bloody underwear back. His jaw instantly locked as he stared down at your bottom, eyes widening in shock at how badly Prosciutto beat you over a stupid ass pair of jeans. Your poor ass was completely red and bruised. Even your sit spots were fully red. He noticed two hand sized welts, those faintly faded underneath the much harsher belt lines across your bottom.

Tears filled his eyes, tears that he quickly wiped away. He looked closer, noticing that one belt streak that was right in the center of your ass was still bleeding. It was rubbed completely raw from your pants rubbing against it. He.. he wanted to fucking destroy Prosciutto.

"Formaggio," he called out, his voice having a shake to it. You went to pull your underwear up, but he stopped you, gently grabbing your hands. "No.. I think that he needs to see this." This.. seeing this made him never want to put his fucking hands on you ever again. How much pain were you in right now? He felt sick. He was going to break Prosciuttos fucking face.

"I just came here to hide out, okay? I just needed to get myself away from Prosciutto. All of this is unnecessary drama. You're going to get me killed," you snapped at him suddenly, but you didn't pull away from him. You stayed completely still, Formaggio rushing into the room.

"Get you killed?" He whispered, feeling completely broken up over that, considering just a month ago, he foolishly threatened to kill you. It was a mistake. He would never kill you. You're the woman he loves. "Formaggio and I won't hurt you. You're safe here, okay? Don't worry."

Formaggio stood next to Illuso, his eyes wide as he stared down at your bottom. "Go to the bathroom and soak in some warm water. I'll come check on you shortly."

"Formaggio, I don -" you began, getting instantly cut off by Formaggio.

"Now!" He yelled at you, causing you to flinch. You pulled your pants up, quickly heading towards the front door. "Hey, where do you think you're going!? Just relax and listen to me!" He rushed forward, grabbing you and yanking you back. "Let me help!"

You were tough. You were very tough. When Illuso punched you, you showed no fear, despite him almost breaking your nose. You showed no fear every time Prosciutto smacked you. And despite throwing up, you handled having your fingers snapped in half like a true fucking assassin. He's never seen you cry, despite all that, so when he saw your head drop and low sobs coming from your mouth, he immediately snatched you away from Formaggio.

"Goddamnit Formaggio, talk to her gently! She's our girlfriend, goddammit!" Illuso snapped at Formaggio, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Do you want me to just take her? I'll keep her." What was Formaggios fucking problem? This was a time to speak to you gently, not rough.

Formaggio threw his hand up, shaking his head. "My bad, my bad," he muttered, his eyes landing on you, trailing down to stare at your ass, visible concern in his eyes. "Fuck.. alright. I'm sorry Y/N. Just.. why don't you tell us what you want? How do you wanna handle this Y/N?"

Your left arm wrapped around him, your cast resting on his back. Your head was buried in his shirt, your tears soaking his shirt. "Just.. can I stay here for a few days? You two take turns, and.. I just need to kind of hide this from Melone. And I need some time away from Prosciutto."

"What about the others?" Illuso questioned, sitting down. He pulled you on his lap, having your bottom hang freely, having you sit on the back of your thighs. "You'll need to call Melone quick with an excuse. We can't really talk to him about you. He'll get suspicious." He couldn't believe he was going through with this lie, and he couldn't believe he was throwing in ideas. Fuck, was he actually giving into exactly what you were asking? What you were asking wasn't right, but it was what they did when they hurt you. They covered it and forgot about it.

"Oh fuck," you actually sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "I'm supposed to stay with Melone tomorrow night. How am I going to lie to him? Hes coming onto my lies!" You seemed in a low state of panic, your body having a shake. "I need to think!"

"Baby, relax," Illuso muttered, his hand raising, rubbing your back. "I'm sure we can come up with something. Alright?" He looked up at Formaggio, having no clue what to do. Ghiaccio wouldn't much question you not seeing him for a while, and Pesci would get sad, but he wouldn't pry or press. Risotto would stay quiet, but Melone? Melone was very serious when it came to you. He didn't just love you. He was downright obsessed with you.

"Did Melone threaten to spank you for lying?" Formaggio questioned suddenly, your head nodding. He snorted, causing Illuso to smack him. "What? It's just funny because Melone ain't gonna spank her. He's just bullshitting. Sweetheart, just relax. We'll make sure he doesn't find out."

Illuso continued to rub your back, this day feeling like an extreme eye opener to him. When he was the one hitting you, he wasn't thinking about how badly you were hurt. He was only thinking of himself. He also never got to see the true after effecfs.. he looked at the idea of 'punishing you' completely differently now. He would never put his goddamn hands on you negatively ever again. You did not deserve this, and if he ever put his hands on you again, then he would be approving of you getting brutalized. All this over a fucking pair of jeans.. that's ridiculous.

"I'm sorry he did this to you," Illuso muttered. "I'm.. I'm really sorry for everything. Don't worry about a thing. Formaggio and I will come up with a great lie. We've got you covered."

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enbygirlblogging · 1 month

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do you ever experience a wild moment of sudden empathy for everyone in the world. like yeah i knew a guy who bullied people a lot, and who i really used to hate, but then i found out he got beaten by his stepdad and watched his sister die a horrible and graphic death first-hand, and suddenly the hate didn't come so easy. yeah i knew a girl who abused me for the better half of my life, but looking back, she also definitely had no one in the world who loved her, including her own family. my issues with her are a lot more personal, but i just don't have it in me to really loathe her the way i once did. i've never had a good relationship with my father, but he never had a parent worth looking up to. and i'm not saying any of that trauma excuses being a horrible human being, and i'm not saying you have to forgive everyone who ever wronged you, or even really that you should.

but i guess i'm saying maybe i forgive the people who wronged me.

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gorkaya-trava · 5 months

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changed "emotional abuse survivor" to just "abuse survivor" in my intro because I suddenly remembered how my parents used to beat me up- the hell is wrong w my life

#I always brush these memories off for some reason.#like if it was just occasionally then there wasn't a problem at all ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ #maybe I'm actually more traumatized than I think I am #tw physical abuse #tw violence #tw physical violence #tw physical harm #tw child abuse

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very-uncorrect · 2 years

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Future chapter genocide/snowgrave route idea: Kris struggling desperately to get the soul out of their chest, hyperventilating and shoving their hand in as hard as they can, scratching around in their ribcage because it wasn't this hard the last times, and the sounds of distress and pain they make cause Noelle to walk in, and they freeze

She notices the glowing red peaking out of their chest, string-like tendrils wrapping around their fingers, how petrified they look, and puts the pieces together in a moment of oh, Kris, I knew it wasn't you

She quietly kneels down in front of them, puts her hands over theirs, and helps them slowly, gently, pull the soul all the way out

Noelle locks it away into a container, turns to Kris, and pulls them into a hug, hushing them as they sob out unneeded apologies

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toxx-apex-727 · 2 months

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[AN ODD VIDEO. WATCH IT?]

[RECORDING START]

Skel wakes up, bound and gagged in the back of a van. He's terrified, yet behind the terror he feels like a complete and utter idiot. Arsène's warning wasn't about Luna. No, it'd been about him. And of course, Skel only realized that in hindsight. But Skel didn't have the time to dwell on the fact that he was a dumbass. He just had to pay the price.

???: Oh look, the freak's awake. Fucker sure recovered quick.

The person who'd battled him. Who'd kidnapped him. Skel wishes he ran when he still could.

The Rocket grunt grabs Skel by the horn, forcing his head upwards and jostling him around a bit.

???: Not a trace of the bruises from earlier. It's sure durable, I'll give it that.

???: Pft, damn thing looks like it's about to cry.

???: Cry? It looks like it's about to break down. Pretty damn pathetic for a monster if ya ask me.

???: Hey, if it's what the client wants then who cares.

Client...?

???: Whaddya say we give it a lil' test run, eh? I'm curious how quickly it heals up.

The Rocket let's go of Skel's horn, punching him in the face. Skel yelps, unable to do or say much of anything.

???: What, can't handle a little pain?

They taunt, stomping on Skel's tail. Skel cries out in pain, trying to do anything to get the agressor to stop.

???: Oh will ya shut up-?

The Rocket stops stepping on Skels tail to kick him in the gut. Skel yells again, earning him another punch to the face, drawing blood this time.

???: Learned your lesson, ya damn freak?!

???: Lay off it. The client won't be happy if we give 'em damaged goods.

???: Yeah, yeah, whatever. It'll heal off the damage by the time it's ready to be shipped, anyways.

???: True, but we don't want Boss to think we're being careless with the package.

???: Yeah, you're right. Whatever, damn thing's no fun already broken anyways.

???: You're damn sadistic, ya know that?

???: Heh, what else is new?

Goods? A package? Is that all he was? Is that all he is now, that he's lost everything, just a package to be delivered? Skel silently cried. He'd tried so hard to hold on to what little he'd had, and now here he is, battered and beaten, bound and gagged in the back of a van.

He failed. Skel had lost everything, again.

[RECORDING END]

#offscreen post #lost and found #tw kidnapping #tw physical harm #tw human trafficking #pokeblogging #pkmn irl #pokemon irl #rotumblr

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sickdokidoki · 9 months

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You can't get out... even if you wanted. Part 2

Unisex reader x Harry Potter (both are adults and this is post Hogwarts)

909 words

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

It was a honey moon atmosphere in those first few months. He was loving, caring, sweet, a total darling. Ginny didn't know what she was missing, you thought, as he brought you the fourth bouquet of that week, with a loving card written by him. It was like a dream, everyone at work was jealous... you had bagged The Boy Who Lived, the Chief Auror! You didn't care what the others said, though, he was just Harry to you, the sweetest man ever, the one who loved you and the one you loved.

Yet, slowly, as the days went by you started to see little things. At first you brushed them off as being trauma related. He had lost his family and had gone through so much since he was a baby after all... It wasn't weird that someone who had been in a war and died and came back had little quirks and weird tiny details to his personality. Completely normal.

But then one day you realised that it wasn't normal when you found a magical tracking device in your bag. It was disguised as a keychain, but you didn't remember that keychain being that way... so you took it and ran a diagnostic spell with your wand.

"What is this?! You don't trust me?!" you had yelled, throwing the keychain down on the table one day when he arrived at your house for "alone together" time. He blinked, looked surprised, took the keychain and then looked at you.

You thought there was anger in his bright green eyes, but then he talked to you in worried tones and you realised it had been anxiety and fear... right?

"Oh, my darling, my pet, I'm so sorry... I should've told you. I'm just so scared about something happening to you!" he had said, looking morose and down at his shoes. "I should've talked to you. Being the beloved of the Chief of Aurors isn't a safe thing. That's why... G-she left... that's why I've been single for so long..."

Wait, you had heard differently...! Was all that a lie so the media and the public would leave them alone...? Was it a ruse for their own safety, did Ginny actually leave to protect herself and Harry...? That would explain his sadness, why he can't say her name, and it made so much more sense now!

So you let it slide, the same as you let his outburst after an old classmate had come into the café to say hi slide, the same when he had stormed into your house demanding to know where you had been and why hadn't you answered your daily owl, the same when he had snatched you out of the street and told you in no uncertain terms that he wasn't comfortable with you going to work anymore, that it could be dangerous...

At first you had been very compliant, it was Harry after all. If anyone knew about safety it was him. But as his grip slowly started to tighten more and more around you you started to rebel.

You had always been independent, making your own way even in school, making your own decisions, ready to handle the consequences of your own actions, learning from your own mistakes... but now...?

Now, curled up in the corner of the dark dungeon, you regretted not seeing the signs. They were so apparent, your friends had told you it wasn't okay... that he was acting too weird at times... but love had blinded you, and now there was no way out...

"Ready to obey me?" Harry's voice carried through the darkness and you snapped up your head so fast your neck popped. "Ready to listen to only me?"

How long had it been since you saw him, or anyone for that matter? Was someone asking for you outside? Looking for you? Or had he made it seem like you left... like... when... like when she left...? Oh Gods...

You screamed, and screamed, and screamed, reality setting in. She had never left, they had never split... HE had gotten to her, she had been down here, that explained the flowery smell that had wafted up towards you as you peered down the chest at his request and then when you were pushed down, landing softly due to his magic. It explained all the paper and broken quills that littered the dungeon's floor. She had been here, and now... where was she? ...Would you end up wherever she was...?

At your screams he pulled you up with his wand and yelled at you to shut up, to stop it, then shook and slapped you hard enough till you went quiet, terrified, his hands big and strong, bruising you. You were a shaking mess, crying quietly, curled up in a terrified ball on the bed.

"Oh, pet... See what you made me do...?" he cooed softly, sitting next to you, caressing your hair softly. "I just love you so much... All you need to do is listen to me! That's all you need to do! Obey me and I'll always be at your feet, my beloved... Why can't you see that...? Why can't you see how much I love you...?"

His hand slowly caressed your bruises, touching them with hot fingers. You winced and pulled away, but you received another slap to the face and you went slightly limp, letting him touch you. His hands travelled all over your body, the same way they had done that day at the forest, during one of your strolls...

#yandere x reader #tw yandere #yanderecore #yandere #harry potter #fanfiction #fanfic #tw abuse #tw physical abuse #tw physical violence #tw physical assault #tw physical harm #tw sex assault

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daintydoilypon · 1 year

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Do you think Silo's parents hate you because you've taught him how to be more independent from them?

It's probably a mixture of that and something else. Silo was very reliant on his parents. I had to do a lot of teaching of things that would be considered basic technically: Laundry, dishes, cooking non-packaged food, budgeting, basic car maintenance, etc etc.

The other thing, I said I might break up with him over, jeez, 5 YEARS AGO NOW? Reason below.

It was 100% a valid reason, he put hands on me. Yeah, that's kinda a BIG RED FLAG. Did he ever do it again after I went off about it? No, but that doesn't make it okay even if he was "panicked because I shut down". I had no friends, no family over here at the time, I had nowhere to run and so I vented about it on my blog to strangers that don't know Silo personally. They got mad that I talked bad about Silo and completely ignored the fact I stated he PUT. HANDS. ON. ME.

I will ALWAYS be absolutely VENOMOUS towards them for that.

#tmi tuesdays #tw physical harm

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inkblot22 · 8 months

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Spirit Crusher: Riddle

Okay, forgive me but I just wanted to write some good old gory death junk. This is heavily inspired by this post. This user has since changed blogs, please go follow them @lacrimariums (If you want me to untag you, please let me know.) That being said, please pay attention to the trigger list, which will be larger than usual, because this one is not a light post at all.

TW for reader death, murder, physical abuse, verbal abuse, captivity, confinement, descriptions of pain, descriptions of violence, descriptions of gore, abusive relationship dynamics, yandere, misuse of unique magic, enabling behavior if you squint. DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

Like any other day, you wait. Riddle is fond of your patience, fonder still of your eyes lighting up once you see him.

You've only seen him and fleeting glimpses of Trey since… Since the two of you began your courtship. You smile at the ghosts of your memories, the vague image of you and Riddle in the rose garden, in the maze, having tea.

Riddle smacking you upside the head with his canestaff in a fit of rage.

You shut your eyes and turn to look at the door as he enters. Your smile returns and you stand up, crossing the room to greet him.

"Good afternoon, housewarden."

"Yes, hello, beloved. I trust you've done what I asked of you?"

It was simple chores, organizing his closet by color and function, things such as that, so you nodded, "Of course I did. Um… Riddle-"

"You should run us a bath." He doesn't do that often, cutting into your words like that.

You nodded and tried again, "Yes, sir. But, Riddle, do you think we can go out to the garden later? I'm going crazy, cooped up in here."

His eyes narrowed on you for a moment, but he turned away, looking into his closet to inspect your organization. "Why are you still standing there? Go do what I told you to."

You swallowed and ducked your head, walking into the bathroom and turning on the water. You watch until it reaches the small scratch you discreetly placed there to measure how high the water can be before Riddle gets irritated.

The one and only time you got it wrong, he made you scrub the bathroom, ceiling to floor, with a soft-bristled toothbrush, all while wearing one of those magic collars. You felt so weak afterwards, as though it were sapping your body of life…

You turned off the water, stepping towards the doorway of the bathroom, "Riddle? What bath salts do you want today?"

Riddle was seated at his desk, looking over his assignments. He waved an uncaring hand at you, "You can choose this time."

That's never a good sign. Riddle does not enjoy your autonomy. You took a stumbling step backwards and he flicked his eyes towards you, then turned back to his work.

The bath salts and bombs and flakes were organized by date acquired, appropriate usage, and quantity. You loved the smell of the bright red, cherry sized bath bombs, since it reminded you of going to the garden, so you picked up two of them and turned, fingertips peeling uselessly at the plastic.

"No, not those. It's a Tuesday." Riddle's voice was cold.

"I-is it?" He had that irritated look in his eyes. That wasn't a good sign. "I'm sorry, I entirely forgot. It reminds me of the garden, so-"

"You need to release this silly garden nonsense. We are not going out today."

"Please, Riddle, I haven't seen the rosebushes in so long, and I'm going insane in here."

You could see the flush of anger, starting in his cheeks and spreading outwards, "Are you implying that my company is not enough?"

This is how it always started. Your fingers shook and you fumbled one of the bath bombs, "N-not at all! I… I just wanted to spend time with y-you outside."

His eyes shut, then opened to pin you with a glare.

You dropped the other bath bomb, lips opening and closing before you tried again, "I… I've been very good. You said it yourself, this morning, that I'm doing a good job. And I never… Never ask for anything, really, so-"

You only heard the whistle of the wind between the fingers of his gloved hand before you were sprawled out. Riddle was not a large person, not in the least, but you weren't expecting him to hit you just yet. You clutched your cheek and looked up at him.

"I didn't know you were so arrogant. Just because I compliment your performance does not mean you are entitled to privileges. I will not allow this… This insubordination! I refuse to allow you to continue speaking to me as though we are equals!"

His face burned crimson, a prominent vein in his forehead standing out. You scooted backwards on the bathroom tile.

Riddle knelt, getting in your face, "I deigned to raise you up to my level, and yet you continue to break rules and-"

"I don't even know half of the rules!" You shouted, "I'm just trying to make you happy!"

Riddle jerked back as though you had struck him, then stood, hands clutching at his canestaff until he pointed at you and screamed the last words you wanted to hear him say today.

"Off with your head!"

It always felt suffocating. Like you were trapped underwater with a felled powerline and covered in acupuncture that you did while drunk at 3am. You wailed, shock and pain turning to fury. You do not necessarily have an eager temper like Riddle does. You do get angry when it makes sense.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Your shout has a snarling edge to it, and Riddle looks taken aback.

“I figured you were smarter than that. Have I really chosen such an incompetent partner?”

“Fuck you! I didn’t even want to be your partner at first!”

You hear the sharp intake of breath, see the way he stiffens, and you see his grip tighten on his canestaff. Then it comes down on your head. You’re already down, so it just makes you try to protect where he hit you, right in the soft spot on your temple. Riddle has struck you with his canestaff before. He has always stopped as soon as he breaks or bruises skin, but this time he doesn’t stop.

Over and over, the canestaff cracks into your skull and fingers until you’re in too much pain to keep your hands over your head and in too much pain to stay fully conscious.

“How dare you?!” He screams at you, raising it once more, “I love you!”

You slip in your own blood while trying to get up and do not try again. When you speak, it sounds like you’ve just been unearthed, like your corpse is bloated and you’re speaking through mud, “You love the idea of me.”

It’s only after you pass out that Riddle registers what you said. He’s under the impression that you’ll wake up and patch yourself up. Like you usually do.

You don’t wake up. He finds you in the same place after dinner, when he brings in your plate. You’re not in his main room, so he assumes you’re pouting, which you hardly ever do, ~not since he “trained” that nasty habit out of you.~

Riddle only registers what he’s done when he sees the mess that the bathroom is in. He only realizes how big of a mistake that he’s made when he sees the red puddle that has been spreading from your temple, your skull cracked open and brain exposed, not moving like it should be.

Riddle doesn’t bother calling to see if you’re still alive. He doesn’t kneel and shake your shoulder, he doesn’t demand that you get up. He simply casts a glance at his canestaff and notices the gore dripping off of the top, screams at the top of his lungs, and vomits.

He’s got such wonderful friends. He really does. As soon as Trey hears the shriek, he comes running, assuring the other guys that he can handle whatever happened.

He can’t. Riddle is inconsolable, and you are dead. No matter how mature anyone is, no one is prepared to handle the murder of a close friend at the hands of their supposed lover.

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reliquaryofflesh · 3 months

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Seriously though I think a good fight before fucking might fix me. Been slapped before, definitely liked that. Love wrestling anyway because it’s fun (not that I’m good at it lmao). Would like to see what being kicked in the ribs is like, that’s a longtime fantasy. These cvts on my leg hurt real nice sometimes…I dunno. And I know I like to hvrt partners who enjoy the pa!n. I just think it would be fun to have some mutual (consensual, obviously!) sadomasochism is all.

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ravenzeppeli · 16 days

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Claimed

Chapter 26 - Stupid Pair of Jeans |Prosciutto x Reader Angst|

Warning: strong language, threats, physical abuse, spanking [detailed, brutal], nudity, blood. MA.

"You actually decided to wear this in public?" Prosciutto questioned as he entered your room without knocking, his face slightly red as he stared at your pants. "Why are you dressed improper? What's the matter with you?" He closed your bedroom door gently, locking it.

You looked over at him, raising your eyebrows. You were wearing a black T-shirt and skinny jeans. You saw no problems in what you are wearing. "What are you talking about? I'm wearing jeans and a T-shirt." What was his deal? After what happened between you and Prosciutto two days ago, you assumed he would be nicer to you. What was his deal? Risotto told you when you stayed with him yesterday that Prosciutto wasn't a mean man, that he was just too invested in his beliefs. His beliefs are ridiculous.

He shook his head, rushing over to you, grabbing your right wrist. "These jeans are tight. These fucking jeans are showing off your goddamn ass! I can tell your wearing thongs!"

You looked away, eyes widening. "Why would you point that out!? My underwear is not any of your concern!" You couldn't believe that he could tell that you were wearing thongs. Was it really that obvious? You were just wearing an old pair of jeans that you had.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" He questioned, voice suddenly going dark. "You know what? I've been very lenient due to your fingers still healing but I've had enough. Wearing these pants in public was a stupid fucking decision, and you're in trouble." He pulled you over to your bed, forcing you to bend over, his hand violently crashing into your ass. "I've been wanting to beat your ass for a very long time, you had this fucking coming girl."

You froze, knowing that fighting back in this situation was foolish. "I didn't know the jeans were that tight! I just wore them because they're an old pair I found!" You felt a dull sting on your right cheek, face heating up. Was he really about to spank you over this? You were actually starting to like him. You actually thought underneath all of his anger was a good man, but in reality, he would never be a good man.

"Well, you'll never wear them again now!" He snapped as he grabbed the back of your pants, ripping the fabric in half, the fabric tearing down the middle, exposing your ass. "Fuck these pants! You don't wear skinny jeans! Wear normal pants only, your ass is too nice for you to be flaunting around in skinny jeans!" He yelled at you, his hand crashing into your left cheek as hard as he could, a loud smack sound filling the air. You felt a huge welt the size of his hand forming with one hit, hot tears suddenly spilling from your eyes as your right hand balled into a tight fist.

Fuck, you had no idea that Prosciutto was this strong. He's never hit you this hard before. All this over an outfit? You had a feeling that it was something deeper than the outfit, but you actually felt fear, you didn't want to piss him off further.

His hand crashed against your right cheek with much more severity, a welt in the shape of his handprint forming on your cheek cheek as well, causing you to bite down on your lip even further, blood filling your mouth as more tears poured from your eyes, clouding your vision. You weren't a pussy, you wouldn't beg him to stop or cry and beg. Fuck that.

Another hard smack landed across the middle of your ass, your body going stiff as you tried to stop yourself from shaking or crying out in pain. You knew that that's what he wanted. He wanted you to cry and beg like a weak and pathetic little girl, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. You couldn't. Despite how badly it hurt, you would take it. You didn't deserve it.. did you?

"Got nothing to fucking say for yourself?" He questioned, and you suddenly heard the unbuckle of his belt. "Apologize and promise me that you'll never wear skinny jeans again. You're lucky I'm allowing you to wear fucking thongs. Apologize and I'll stop."

You weren't weak, you weren't a fucking pussy that they could beat into submission. You weren't going to fucking back down, you were going to say something that you would more than likely end up immediately regretting. "Fuck you, I don't like you anymore," you snapped at him, your tone filled with thick aggression, your fear hiding behind the pain that you felt. "I'm sorry I ever thought you were a good man!"

You heard the swish of his belt, the thick leather immediately crashing into your ass in five swift motions, your head immediately burying into your bedsheets. You stayed completely frozen, body stiff, and your ass was on fire. Fuck.. you.. you fucking hated Prosciutto, but you knew that saying the word hate was a foolish decision. So.. you were done speaking to him. For good.

"Good man!? Good man!?" He screamed at you, his belt smacking into your untouched sit spots with three swift licks. You closed your eyes, beginning to bite down on your lip again, another smack hitting the center of your blistering sore ass before you heard the belt drop. "I am a great man to you! I said to never wear improper things in public, I said to dress appropriately because I don't want random men looking at you! Because I love and care about you! I am protecting you, and me spanking you is good for you!"

You stiffened as you felt his hand rub your left ass cheek, a low sigh escaping his lips. You gave him nothing but silence, the confession of him loving you after beating you only making you furious. You wanted him away from you, and you wanted to get the fuck out of here.

"Theirs some pain pills in the kitchen," he muttered, his fingers tracing against your damaged ass. "This is all your fault. If you just would have apologized, then you wouldn't have gotten punished so severely. I hate having to punish you so harshly."

You refused to speak to him, staying completely silent, his hand squeezing your left ass cheek suddenly, causing a small, pained moan to escape your lips before you bit harshly back down on your lip.

"Fine," he muttered, removing his hand from your bottom. "Don't speak to me now, that's fine. As long as you learned your lesson." You felt him pull your thongs down, taking them fully off of you. "I'll go get the pills." As soon as you heard him leave, you quickly shot up, grabbing a pair of underwear from your drawer.

You weren't safe here with him. He could hurt you worse if you say something wrong. You always say the wrong thing. You needed to get out of here. Running away would just cause problems, and you had no family or friends. You were even allowed to go too. You suddenly remembered a conversation you had with Formaggio a few days ago, remembering his promise to cover for you or have your back. All you wanted was somewhere safe to go, somewhere away from Prosciutto, and you needed to go to someone who wouldn't cause drama with Prosciutto or hand you over to him. Formaggio said he would have your back with whatever you needed so you would test that.

You yanked the underwear on, grabbing a pair of loose jeans as you ran over to your door, closing and locking the door. As you pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped on your shoes, you opened your window and climbed put. As soon as your feet hit the concrete floor, you ran as fast as you could, ignoring the stinging pain on your bottom.

-----

Yeah.. this might have been your most foolish idea, but you had limited options right now. You couldn't go to Risotto because he would automatically side with Prosciutto, and you had a feeling that Illuso would as well. Melone would want to beat the hell out of Prosciutto, and Pesci would be extremely upset. Ghiaccio would more than likely call Melone, so your only option was Formaggio.

All you needed was a place to stay away from Prosciutto. You tip-toed up Formaggio apartment stairs, not wanting to alarm Illuso and have him come out. You stood in front of his door, pulling out your key and unlocking his door. Slowly, you shoved the key into the hole, unlocking his apartment door and pushing in, immediately freezing when you saw both Formaggio and Illuso sitting on the couch, papers spread all over the coffee table.

"Hello," you said. In your defense, Formaggio gave you a key and said that his place was yours. And you didn't knock because you didn't want to trigger Illuso, but you saw that it didn't matter. He was already here. These two seemed to be pretty close. You wondered if they considered themselves as being close friends or simply just colleagues.

Formaggio grinned, looking over at you, his green eyes seeming to light up. "See, I told you Illuso, Y/N basically lives with me now. I got her to move in with me first." He paused, looking over at Illuso. "In your face."

Illuso looked you up and down, his eyes narrowing. "Who hurt you?" He questioned, causing Formaggio to stand up. "You seem different right now."

You shook your head, "it's nothing major. I just.. needed somewhere to possibly stay tonight." Your eyes landed on Formaggio. Should you tell them? You only came here because you had nowhere else to go. "And the next few nights." You had to hide this from Melone. What if he ends up hurting Prosciutto? You couldn't cause physical fights between the men. That wasn't right.

As you said that, Formaggios cell phone went off. You stepped forward, looking down at his phone on the coffee table to notice that it was Prosciutto calling him.

"What's that on the back of your pants?" Illuso questioned, voice dropping to a whisper as he poked the back of your left cheek. The sudden poke caused you to flinch, his hand immediately pulling away. He held his finger up, his finger stained with blood. "Formaggio.. answer the phone and make sure that Prosciutto doesn't fucking come over here. I have a feeling that he did something very fucking stupid that may cause me to break his nose."

#tw everything #tw abuse mention #tw abuse #tw verbal abuse #tw physical harm #tw physical violence #tw physical abuse #tw blood #tw mature #tw nude #tw spank #tw nudity #tw emotional abuse

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