#Lots of gore

[going-getting-got-ghost]

A ghost virus spreads across the ghost zone and Amity park that thrives on the ectoplasm of its host basically eating them from the inside out.

When Danny contracts this virus, being half human, instead evolves him into a dissolving elderich horror creature, mending his mouth together in the process.

Due to the viruses need to devour ectoplasm Danny develops a constant hunger to feast on any ghost in close proximity. Even though the efforts are futile.

[sunshiline-writes]

Drabble: Good Dolls Don't Dream

More fucked up Drabble time from Sunny!!! uhh yeah this one's rough stay safe and heed warnings. CW: DEAD DOVE DON'T EAT, GORE, noncon body modifications (so so many), wire's through hands, stress positions, mentions of kidnapping, broken legs, whumpee is thought of and called a "doll" and "thing", stitching a person's mouth closed, some mouth gore I THINK I GOT EVERYTHING but if I didn't just let me know!

--

Eyelids fluttering, breaths came in short gasps as whumpee slept. Whumper always enjoyed watching Whumpee sleep. They were always so beautiful. But today they were immaculate, strung up against the wall like this. Hands above their head held up by the wire through their hands. The sight was beautiful, the wire wrapping from the hole in their palms between each finger, creating an intricate pattern as it weaved in and out of their hand. 

Whumper had worked very hard to get the designs just right. The carvings in their skin, the wig stitched on, through their scalp. That was the worst part getting them to stay still enough to let them move the needle through the scalp. Then they had to start over because Whumpee had moved so much that the wig had gone on crooked. 

They always knew how to make things so difficult. Whumpee made a noise as their eyes fluttered open. Their eyes looked at them blearily. Whumper carded a hand through the fake hair on their head pulling the stitches lightly. They were a bit angry and red at the edge of their scalp, Whumper would fix that later. 

“Are you ready to be let down now darling?” 

Whumpee let out a choked whine before answering. “Please.. I’m so tired.” 

Whumper unhooked the chain that held the wires through Whumpee’s hand and let whumpee fall into them. Gently picking them up bridal style and carrying them to the bed. A mattress in the corner of the basement, and lays them down. They whimper as their legs are straightened and the blanket is put to their shoulders. Whumpee’s legs still look wrong after the last time Whumper broke them. They hated to do that, it ruined the perfectness of their little doll. But it had to be done after they had tried to escape a third time. They had let the legs heal the wrong way. Making sure there was never an attempt like that again. Dolls didn’t need to run or walk anyway. Dolls just needed to sit there and look pretty. Boy, was whumpee pretty. They had big brown eyes that shone when they cried, beautiful skin, their hair was the only thing that had been awful when they acquired the little thing. It used to be dyed a bright green color, now they had the beautiful black wig that was connected to their scalp. They were nearly perfect now. So close. 

“Can you tell me what you did wrong? Why you were punished?” Whumpee whimpered as Whumper gave a little tug on the wig, again pulling at the stitches on their scalp. “I-I.. said.. I wanted.. to go home..” they answered between sniffles and sharp breaths. 

“Mmhmm, and why was that wrong?” “Because… Because I am home..” “Good. Good. You know you’re nearly perfect,” Whumper, rubbed light circles on Whumpee’s back, sighing. “Just one last punishment. It’s not forever. You just need to learn not to say those types of things to me.” Whumpee stared up at them with wide eyes, tears filling them again. God they were so pretty when they were scared. 

“It.. It was just a stupid.. a stupid dream..” Whumpee tried to bargain with them. Whumper smiled softly, a finger placed on Whumpee’s lips. “Good Dolls don’t dream love.” 

Whumpee whimpered again, whumper stood up and left for a moment before returning with a shoe box. It was filled with different colors of thread and needles. They pulled out a needle and a purple thread. “I think purple would really make your eyes pop, don’t you agree?” They didn’t expect an answer as they set up the thread through the needle. “If you move I might rip more of your skin that what’s necessary, so try and stay as still as possible okay?” Whumpee pushed themselves away from Whumper as they straddled the younger person. Laughing a little, whumper shook their head. “You still need some work. That’s okay. I am very patient.” “No no no, please wait. I’ll be good. I’ll take the muzzle, I’ll wear the ball gag like you wanted earlier. Please,” a whimper as whumper brought the needle closer to their bottom lip. “PLEASE!!” They screamed out next. Whumper huffed and slapped Whumpee hard, “shut up and keep your mouth closed or I’ll make this worse. I’ll let you go a week with these in instead of just the rest of the day, understand? Nod if you understand.” Whumpee nodded slowly, sobbing softly as their lips pouted. Whumper laughed, tapping their cheek lovingly, “Just do what I say and you’ll be just fine love.” Then they pushed the needle through the bottom right corner of Whumpee’s mouth, and as the little doll cried out, Whumper grabbed their tongue with a gloved hand. Then they brought the needle through the tip of their tongue. Whumpee screamed and then quickly clamped their mouth shut as the needle was put through their upper lip. Whumper smiled as they saw blood drip down their lips and chin, gently wiping it away. “Good. Yes the purple looks very good on you. I should put you in purple more often.” Then they pressed the needle into their bottom lip again, repeating the process save for the tongue. They watched hungrily as Whumpee clenched their fists and sobbed quietly. By the time they had tied off the last of the stitch, Whumpee’s eyes had a glazed over look. “God you’re beautiful,” whumper whispered, pressing a kiss to Whumpee’s stitched lips, licking the droplets of blood that had collected on their lips. “The perfect little doll.”

Whumpee sobbed harder

—

Drabble taglist: @painsandconfusion ask if you'd like to be added or removed!!

[sirpeachess-casual]

Who Killed Danny?

a glitch in time got me re-reading my old ass one-shot/drabbles and found that i really wanted to post this one :) it's a long one >:) and a sad one >:}

warnings for lots of angst (sort of off-screen character death), torture (again, sort of off-screen), and lots of body horror (clone-style) + vlad being evil

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

When the Ghost King screamed, everyone heard it. Clockwork was catapulted out of a deep meditation, books falling off the shelves around him. The Far Frozen rushed out of their homes, gathering in the town square to sing and pray around their alters. Wulf whimpered and covered his ears, eventually howling along with the dissonant tones. Even Skulker paused polishing his equipment, wondering if he was above taking advantage of their halfa king's current state.

Out of the Ghost Zone, Elle Fenton was snapped out of her hedonistic pursuits. She bolted upright in bed, screaming in a voice that wasn't hers. A thousand shouts tore from her throat, a thousand whines of agony ripping her apart from the inside out. It died off with a whimper, leaving her breathless and shaking. The meager possessions she had amassed during her travels were splattered against the far wall, scattered as if caught up in a horrible whirlwind.

"What..." she gasped. She had only ever heard the Ghostly Wail one time before, and had never been able to produce it herself. And while that first and only time had been bolstered by an undying sense of protection, a deep-seated need to keep her safe, this had been different.

This was pain and despair.

"Danny!"

Transforming, she blasted off the ground, zooming through the air as fast as her ghostly self could move. There was only one person she trusted to find Danny and not immediately tear him limb from limb. She needed to find Valerie.

Hundreds of miles away, Valerie was suited up. Her armored knee was bent into the back of some back alley ghost, an electrified garotte wrapped tightly around its throat. She was demanding information on how to get into the Ghost Zone, information this 30s-era ghoul was denying her.

"I know it's possible for humans to get there!" she hissed, tightening the cord. "Tell me how and I won't snap your head off before sending you back."

"I-I don't know!" the ghost choked. "I don't know what you're talking about! You're one crazy dame!"

"Don't lie to me!" Pressing a button, the cord lit up with electricity. It was a small amount, just enough to zap. She had all night to get information, after all. No need to cause real damage just yet.

The ghost under her feet, however, started howling.

Valerie was taken aback. "Oh calm down, ghoul," she berated. "That's barely enough to burn."

Still, the agonized screams forced her to loosen her grip - just slightly. She had been doing this for a long time and had made these foul creatures emit all kinds of noises before. Screams, whimpers, whines, all sorts of begging and promising. But this, though, was primal. This couldn't have been faked, no matter how good of an impersonator this ghost was.

"It's him!" the thing cried. "Our king!"

Valerie blinked. As far as she had learned, ghosts didn't have any kind of royal hierarchy. She hadn't heard of any unionizing leader or governmental figurehead before. Who was it? And how did this ghost suddenly know that it was in danger?

"Your... your what?"

But the ghost was no longer listening to her. It had seemingly gone rabid, driven crazy by its recent discovery of the so-called king being in trouble.

"Hey!" Valerie gasped, leaping backward to avoid its sweeping tail. "Calm down!"

"Our king! Our king!" it kept bellowing, rolling and clawing, desperate to escape.

"What are you talking about? What king?"

"The halfa king!" She froze. That word... she hadn't heard that word since... that night. "What - what do you mean? What halfa?"

Before it could answer, the ghost managed to wriggle free. Its tail slapped Valerie across the chest, sending her flying backward.

"Hey! Get back here!" she threatened, climbing to her feet as the ghost climbed into the sky, screeching the entire time.

It was gone.

"Dang it!" she hissed, stomping in anger. There went the best lead she had gotten her hands on in weeks. Not only that, now she had more questions than ever.

And that word.

The word that she had heard for the first time that one night in Wisconsin. The word and that night she had been running from for so long now. Secretly, she had hoped that ignoring the memories would make them go away; denying the existence of half-human, half-ghost hybrids would let her world go back to the easy-to-handle black-and-white way the world - and her place in it - used to be.

But now, after all this time, it was back. And it was literally shouting in her face.

With a sigh, she figured she had been running long enough. The mythical Ghost Zone wouldn't be going anywhere. But apparently, this halfa king was.

Typing away on her wrist, she summoned all the research and notes she had done on the subject - which was very little. In order to get more information, she would need to go to the source. Or, at least, the only source she knew of. She needed Danielle (or Elle, as she was apparently going by these days).

Leaping into the air, her hoverboard materialized under her clicked heels, and she took off into the air. It had been so long since she had seen that little twerp, what were the chances she would be able to find her again?

"C'mon, brat. Where did you run off to this time?" she muttered. Her visor recalibrated, narrowing the search parameters to Elle's ecto-signature.

Immediately, everything started flashing red.

"What the-" She looked up, focusing past the screen in front of her face.

Just in time to dodge to the right, barely avoiding colliding with the ghost in question.

They shouted each other's names in surprise, with varying degrees of annoyance and urgency.

Valerie recovered first. "What are you doing-"

"I need your help!"

The hunter blinked at that. Today was just full of deja vus, wasn't it? "Are you melting again?"

"No! No, it's not me, it's-" the ghost girl froze, too-vivid-green eyes flickering to the invisible distance as if she was looking at something only she could see. "We need to go, now!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Valerie scolded, grabbing the ghost by the arm. "Go where? Help who? What is this about?"

"It's Danny!"

"Danny? Danny who?"

"Ugh!" Elle rolled her eyes, palm slapping her face. "Phantom? Invis-o-Bill? The Ghost Boy?"

Valerie blinked, physically taken aback. "Phantom?" she gasped. "What does he have to do with-"

"Please, he needs our help! He's in trouble - you have to find him!"

This train was getting out of control. Valerie crossed her arms, squaring her shoulders against the little ghost's panic. "I don't have to do anything! You haven't told me what's going on, what you're doing here - or why I should help!"

Dani blinked at her. "You're kidding, right? Now is the time you want a receipt?"

Valerie jammed a finger into her face. "Hey, don't reappear out of the blue and start demanding I bend over backward to help you freaks! The only reason you aren't in a containment cube right now is because you're different and you know it. I have no obligation to help you, or Casper the Friendly Ghost, or anybody. Especially not Phantom!"

The ghost girl growled in frustration, pulling her long white hair. (Valerie found herself having to remember that this creature wasn't human, not really, no matter how real she seemed.) "You're insufferable, you know that! How many times have I asked anything of you? Or Danny, for that matter? You don't hear from us, ever, we let you do your whole ghost hunter/destroyer routine without interfering-"

"Hey, I am a professional ghost hunter! I don't need permission from the likes of you to do my job!"

"And I'm trying to do mine!"

"Oh, and what's that? Dragging me around on some ghoulish scavenger hunt to find some public menace I would just as soon shoot myself?"

"Trying to save my cousin's life!"

"Phantom is a ghost!" Valerie shot back. "He doesn't have a life to lose."

"He's more human than you will ever know!"

The hunter scoffed, crossing her arms. "As if. As far as I'm concerned, Phantom is a good-for-nothing troublemaker. Don't act like he hasn't destroyed property or wrecked lives, not to mention kidnapping the mayor and going up against the Fentons themselves. We all saw him rob that jewelry store. Seriously, that freak has issues and if someone finally got the better of it then all I'm gonna do is offer to shake their hand."

Elle stared at her and for a moment and Valerie almost thought she saw real emotion in the bright green eyes. The ghost girl put on a convincing display of shock and hurt but it wasn't enough to dissolve Valerie's rage. It did at least slow her down long enough to consider her options.

The ghost girl sighed. "Listen, I don't know what he did or said last time to get you to help when I was literally melting into nothing, so can we just pretend I have his same people skills and that you do, actually, have enough of a heart left to give a crap? Because he is in danger. And pain." She shuttered, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. "...So much pain. And I can't explain why or how I know but I do. And I have to help him. But I can't find him on my own." The girl blinked and her trepidation was replaced with a fierce determination. "If you want to shake the hand of whoever is killing him, fine! Ask for a selfie for all I care! But at least give me a chance to save the only real family I have."

Valerie frowned, considering the plea. Someone should tell the ghost girl she did, in fact, have her cousin's persuasion skills. It was almost the same line, word-for-word, that Phantom had fed to her all that time ago.

She had fallen for it then.

She wouldn't be duped twice.

Though, she had to admit, the possibility of meeting the ghost hunter capable enough to finally take down the menace that was Phantom was a tempting offer. And she couldn't shake the feeling that this was somehow connected to that king nonsense from earlier.

That was a mystery she couldn't just ignore.

"Fine..." she eventually agreed. "I will help you find him - it. But only that! If Phantom really is in trouble don't count on me lifting a finger to help. In fact, I can't promise I won't make it worse."

Elle grinned, overjoyed. "Yes! Thank you, thank you! Just get me to him and I can take care of the rest!"

Valerie doubted that much, especially considering that the last time she saw Elle, the ghost girl resembled a snowman in the desert more than a ghost.

Still, she shrugged. "Let's go, then."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Unsurprisingly, and to the knee-weakening dismay of Elle, her cousin's ecto-signature lead them straight to Vlad Masters' mansion. It was a long flight, even with Valerie's hoverboard going at top speed, and the longer they spent in the air the more and more Valerie hoped this trip would be worth it. At this point, she wasn't just expecting a selfie; she wanted a chance to punch Phantom herself for all the trouble this was turning out to be.

And no, she wasn't just being mean because she was nervous about going back to Masters Mansion.

As soon as it came into view, Danielle slowed nervously. "Are... are you sure he's in there?"

Valerie checked her HUD. "Yup. His ecto-signature is coming from those coordinates."

The ghost girl sighed. "If he's in there, you can turn off the tracking. I know where he'll be."

Valerie frowned but complied. The mansion was huge and the less time they had to spend pacing the endless halls the better. "You haven't been here since that night, right? So how can you be so sure?"

Gulping, Elle continued forward. "Just trust me on this."

"Uh huh," Valerie replied, unimpressed. "You're down to your last IOUs, you know that? This better be worth it."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Carefully, they made their way forward. The exterior of the mansion looked fine, untouched and unscathed. Except for the ground along the Western wall. The dirt was cracked and bulging as if an explosion had gone off under the earth. It was the only anomaly in an otherwise pristine exterior.

"The basement," Elle informed unnecessarily.

Of course it was the basement. The images of that secret underground lab had plagued the back of Valerie's eyelids ever since that night. She'd rather give up her hoverboard than go into that basement again, but a promise was a promise.

They entered through the main entrance, stepping across the threshold into the large expanse of blackness. Every flat surface was dented and cracked, glowing green and red slime splattered across the room. The gore acted like so many morbid nightlights, illuminating the floor and walls as the industrial lights overhead flickered and failed to come to life.

Valerie took a step forward, her armored foot slipping on the tile. She yelped involuntarily, Danielle being quick to keep her from falling.

"Ugh, stupid ectoplasm," the hunter muttered. With a tap, she turned her headlamp on and looked down to inspect the damage.

Surprisingly, she hadn't slipped on gore like she had expected. In actuality, the slick tiles were covered with a thin layer of frost and ice. And then she realized how cold it was in here. Cold temperatures were to be expected when it involved the supernatural. Ghosts dropped the temperature of the room and ectoplasm would destabilize if overheated. She knew from experience - labs in particular were kept fairly cold to keep the samples and specimens docile. This lab, though, was beyond those levels of cold. It was downright frigid in here, the icy air seeping through the thermals in her suit.

She shivered. "Why's it so cold in here?"

"I don't know..." Elle replied. "I don't remember it being this cold last time."

Dissatisfied, they continued forward, Valerie having to pick a path through the destroyed equipment and containment cages. She didn't know a lot about this Plasmius character that had apparently been haunting Vlad Masters' basement, but she very much disliked him. And for good reason; he was more sinister than anything she had faced before. If Phantom had been in his clutches, she almost felt bad for him.

It.

Almost felt bad for it.

Suddenly, a hologram crackled to life, making the two investigators scream in surprise. "Welcome back, sugar lumps!" it greeted cheerily.

Valerie blinked at it. "Mrs. Fenton?"

Elle, though, seemed unfazed by the fact that this AI perfectly resembled one of the world's most notorious ghost hunters. Or its apparent proclivity for pet names.

"Where's Danny?" the ghost girl questioned, rounding on the projection. "What did Plasmius do with him?"

Valerie reached forward, intent on telling the ghost off. Surely this thing couldn't speak back. It was probably set up to a motion sensor or something and programmed to give some pre-recorded greeting or update. It couldn't actually speak.

Except then, it did: "I'm so sorry, apple fritters, but I'm afraid I don't recognize your wonderful voice! Please confirm it's you, butter bread."

"Ugh. It's me? Elle? Danielle Fenton?"

Valerie blinked. "Fenton?"

"So sorry, cream cakes. Please try again."

"Danielle Fenton! Why don't you recognize me?"

The hunter stepped forward. "Phantom?"

"What?"

"Enunciate. It sounds like you're saying Fenton."

The ghost rolled her eyes. "Of course!" Pivoting, she faced the hologram again. "It's Danielle. Danielle ...Masters."

The hologram beamed brightly in response. "Thank you so much, candy cane! I'm so happy to have you back!"

"Yes, great. Me too. About Danny though - where is he?"

It blinked at her. "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry, rice cakes. It seems all of the clones have expired."

Elle paled visibly.

Behind her, something caught Valerie's eye and she stepped off the investigate.

"I - I'm not asking about a clone..." Elle argued. "I want Danny. The real Danny! MY Danny!"

Valerie rounded a tossed-over fridge, eyes widening as she saw what was beyond. "Um, Elle?"

"Your search parameters are unclear. Please specify."

"Danny! Daniel!"

"Danielle!"

"What!"

Valerie jerked her chin forward, prompting the ghost girl to float over and investigate. As a clone herself, one who had melted and personally witnessed a multitude of failures before her succumb to the same fate, nothing could prepare her for what was waiting around the corner.

"I think I know why it couldn't find the one you were looking for..." Valerie offered as they took in the scene. The room was covered in what Valerie could only describe as living (but rapidly dying) corpses. They half resembled the Phantom character she had grown to hate, but something about their dilapidated features looked much more... solid. Much more human.

They almost reminded her of Danny from school. The Fenton kid she had tricked into going out with her a few times.

One monstrosity was gasping for breath on an exam table, its innards exposed and melting. Another was slumped inside a large containment tube, its wrists still shackled in place above its head. More were piled on each other, moaning and wheezing, in various states of decay. In the corner was a pile of similar incubation tubes, green and red slime dripping from cracks in the glass.

"What the hell..." Valerie gasped. This was unlike anything she had ever seen. Sure, she knew ghosts could melt. She had seen it with her own eyes. She'd even caused some creatures to destabilize slightly a few rare times before, back before she knew what she was doing, before she could stop her methods from getting out of hand. She'd shocked and prodded and, sure, she'd seen some ghoulish insides and been up to her elbows in ectoplasm more times than she could count. But this... these corpses, they looked completely different.

For one thing, they were alive. Or at least badly pretending to be. They moved and whined and she heard wet wheezes bubble out of one that had to have been drowning in its own fluid. For all intents and purposes, they seemed to be in pain. As if they were dying.

But once she got closer, she got a better look at their physicality. Which would best be described as... physical. Usually, ghosts were otherworldly. They were cold and defied gravity by nature and she could stick her hand through one if so inclined with very little resistance. They lacked the normal rigidity that humans did; their bones and muscle structures were different. When she punched a human in the arm, she felt layers of skin and muscle and bone (if she hit hard enough.) Punch a ghost, however, and it felt more like hitting a bag of stiff gelatin. It bounced back and it molded to her fist, like thick liquid poured into a sleeve.

These clones, though, were a mind-boggling mix of both of those realities. The gelatinous qualities of ectoplasm remained, except it somehow adhered to a surprisingly human-looking bone structure. Gravity pulled on their flesh and limbs and wispy hair, but she could still see the cracked floor tiles through them if she looked hard enough.

They were ghosts.

And they also weren't.

What was obvious, though, what she knew beyond a doubt, was that none of them were Phantom.

Also, they were dying. Slowly and painfully.

Before she realized it, she was kneeling before one mangled corpse, sweeping her scanner over its twisted remains. It huffed curiously at her, its one working eye watching her movement curiously.

She shushed it, fighting the urge to run her hand through its goopy hair. It looked so much like Danny (from school) she almost couldn't take it.

Behind her, Elle had recovered from the horror show around them much quicker than Valerie had. The ghost was zipping from pile to pile, asking for Danny, wondering where her cousin was.

The hologram materialized beside Valerie and she had to bite back her growl. "What happened here? Who did this?"

"Would you like to watch the security footage, pumpkin bread?"

The clone at her feet gave one last wheeze. She could have sworn its eye flickered a familiar blue before going dark.

"Yes."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

The two gathered around a tiny monitor, the only operating screen in a 4x5 set of them, watching curiously as the AI of Maddie Fenton rewound the footage to "about fourteen hours ago," as Elle had so helpfully supplied.

Shortly, they had found the right scene: The lab was in order, neat and arranged. A stark contrast to the disaster they had walked into. The floors were polished and the equipment was arranged in a way that must have made sense to someone. Valerie recognized the portion of the room they were looking at now as the same area they had found the corpses in. The containment tubes lined the walls, the pile of discards already starting to grow. The exam table was off to the side.

What threw her off, though, was the additional piece of equipment that simply didn't exist in the present. It clearly had been the centerpiece of the room before whatever had happened had happened. Looking at that spot on the floor now, she realized that's where the explosion had come from. The icicles clinging to every surface pointed to this spot as their origin. Even the cracks in the floor started there. It was the epicenter. But what had happened here?

As the recording continued, they saw a figure bent over the piece of equipment. A second, smaller humanoid was strapped to its surface, squirming and wriggling against the restraints. It was mostly obscured by the looming silhouette, though its clenched fists and... red sneakers(?) were visible. The taller figure - Valerie could almost be convinced it was Mr. Masters himself, what with the gray hair and black suit - was hard at work putting its captive through hell.

Valerie recognized some of the techniques and tools being used. She had wielded her own makeshift versions before - except, to her credit, she had done so with much less... mangling than this person was. While her methods were meant to pry information, the figure here seemed to delight in causing pain. They wanted something, she could infer that much, but she guessed at some point their original purpose of hurting to get information had warped into hurting for the enjoyment of it.

It made a small part of her stomach turn. When she was working, she could separate her captive from itself. They weren't human. And the closer she got, the more obvious it was.

With this distant view and grainy sound quality, though, she could be tricked into thinking the captive's screams were, in fact, human. They certainly seemed genuine.

"How long had this been going on?" she wondered aloud.

"The most recently processed experimentations began the first Thursday of this month, sweet tart."

"That's over a week ago," Elle gasped.

"Thirteen days, to be precise, goose lips."

"Unbelievable..." Valerie sighed.

Danielle wiped her eyes, forcing herself to refocus. "Fast forward to the scream."

Valerie frowned at her. "The scream?" she asked, but before the ghost girl could answer, the footage reached the intended time stamp and the AI started wailing.

The two investigators reeled back, covering their ears against the sudden noise.

"What's happening?" Elle asked, wincing as the screeching tore through her head.

Valerie turned to the AI. "Hey! Hologram! Shut it!"

It refused, continuing the ear-piercing scream.

Suddenly, Elle had an idea. "The footage!" she gasped as if Valerie had any idea what she meant by that. "Maddie! Pause the recording!"

Instantly, the room went quiet. It was so sudden it left their ears ringing with the delayed echoes.

"What did you do?" Valerie demanded, watching suspiciously as Elle approached the many monitors.

"She was trying to translate."

Still, Valerie was lost. "Translate what? A banshee listening to heavy metal?"

"No. The wail. Maddie," Elle turned to the AI and Valerie really wanted to tell her to stop calling it that, "resume the footage. But muted this time."

"Muted footage will not be translated. The translation may be lost, lamp chops."

She sighed. "Then let me listen to it. The actual sound, not the translation."

"Elle, what're you-"

"Can do, kind heart! And what a wonderful idea, too!"

This time when they pressed the play button, they heard an entirely different yell: it was the voice of a human boy, one that was strained and crying and in immeasurable pain and fear and sounded so much like Danny (from school) that Valerie had to do a double take.

"Vlad, stop! You don't know what you're doing!" he was pleading. He sounded like, well, like he had been screaming his way through thirteen days of torture.

The taller figure hovering over him was undeterred. If anything, it seemed more and more excited the harder its captive squirmed and begged.

"No one knows what this will do, Little Badger," it teased. "Least of all those idiotic parents of yours. Oh, imagine how excited your mother will be when I present this bombshell of a scientific discovery to her! My sweet Maddie, finally leaving that moron of a husband for the man she deserves - the man that will compliment her immense intelligence instead of constantly bringing her down with his buffoonery."

"Dude," he wheezed, "there are, like, a million other less insane ways of getting my mom's attention. Write her a letter, rent a billboard - hire one of those sky writers! Anything but this." A wet hacking sound garbled the audio. "Please."

"I'm disappointed in you Daniel. Aren't you your mother's son?" They leaned over their captive, snickering menacingly. "Don't you want to, what is that ridiculous phrase your father keeps shouting, 'rip it apart atom by atom'?"

The boy coughed harshly, his strained vocal cords creaking. "It's - and I can't believe I'm about to say this - 'tear it apart molecule by molecule' and no! I don't! I rather like being me - the not-cloned, not-ripped-apart version."

The captor sighed. "And that's where we differ, Daniel. Unless you choose to be with me, and your mother, this version of you simply won't suffice. So I must make the version that will. I will clone you, Daniel. And from your grave will rise the perfect son - MY perfect son!"

There was a pause as the figure on the table resumed tugging at the restraints in a renewed sense of panic.

"Vlad - do, do you hear yourself? Do you hear how crazy you sound? Snap out of it! You don't want this. You don't want to... to kill me."

"Again, you're wrong." The taller figure suddenly pulled out a giant pair of clawed gloves. "I'm not killing you, Daniel. That would involve ridding the world of something it would miss."

Suddenly, the captor plunged the claws into the boy's chest.

And then the wailing started.

"It... it's cold," Danielle said quietly.

Valerie frowned at her, startled by the unexpected words. "What is? What's he doing?"

"...His core..." the ghost girl collapsed to her knees, suddenly too weary from the shock of it all to stay floating.

Valerie was at her side in a moment, checking her for injuries.

"That's what my dear Vladdy-poo was digging out," the hologram chimed in happily. "Quite the genius, my honey biscuits." It waved its hand, the other monitors displaying coordinated sections of a larger image. "Every ghost has a core; it's the source of their power and life force! When fudge nutters tried to extract Little Badger's core, there was an explosion!"

"An explosion?" Valerie questioned. "What kind?"

"The cold kind! It froze everything and destroyed everything else. It was catastrophic!" It clapped its hands together. "Isn't that fun?"

"Danny..." Danielle muttered. "Maddie! Where is he? What happened to him?"

"Unknown!"

Valerie leapt to her feet, really wishing she could punch a hologram in the face. "What do you mean unknown? You have to know! You're this place's security or something."

"Unknown!"

Teeth grinding with determination (and more than a little bit of rage), Elle climbed to her feet. Slowly, her weightlessness came back, lifting her into the air. "We have to find him!"

Valerie held out her hands. "Whoa, ghost girl. We aren't even sure there's anything left to find. You heard what happened. I mean, look at this place! If he survived, then where is he?"

"I... I don't know. But I know he's out there!"

"How? And don't say I have to trust you on this. I've been trusting you and look where it got us! Unless you start explaining and start right now, I am not taking another step."

Elle's shoulders slumped. "You... you wouldn't understand. Danny - Phantom - he's... he's different."

"Oh, I'm sure he is. What, does he donate to a local dog shelter? I bet he serves soup to the homeless on the weekends when he's not too busy terrorizing the city."

The ghost turned her back to Valerie, arms crossed. "I knew you wouldn't understand. Even if I told you, you still wouldn't help."

Valerie mirrored her pose, swinging a hip out to one side. "You're darn right I wouldn't help! You ghosts are all the same. You show up out of the blue, stick your noses into our business, and then get mad when we want you to leave."

"Not all of us."

"Sure, ghost girl."

Elle sighed. Then, she huffed. "Fine."

Valerie raised an eyebrow at her sudden determination. "Fine what?"

The ghost turned on her, using her flying height to hover over the hunter. "I tried to be nice! I tried to do this the right way - to appeal to your humanity, your sense of preservation, your heart. But clearly, I misjudged you. Clearly, you're too wrapped up in your own drama and angst to care about anyone else-"

"Hey, ghosts don't count and you know that!"

"And apparently neither do humans, either!"

Valerie blinked at her. "What, what do you mean?"

But the ghost girl wasn't listening, too focused on her own seething rage. "As if it even matters! You don't care about anyone other than yourself, that much is clear. So forget it! I'll find Danny on my own. I don't need you."

"Says the ghost that practically begged me to help track down your 'cousin' - if you two are even related."

"Yeah? And apparently that was my mistake. So forget it, Valerie. Forget what you saw tonight, forget about all of this. ...Forget about me."

The hunter was taken aback. "Danielle..."

"I'm serious," the girl sniffed angrily. "Lose my number. Don't contact me. Don't look for me. Go on with your life, hunting down ghosts that have done nothing wrong just to fill some empty black hole inside of you or whatever. I don't care." And with that, she kicked off, zooming toward the ceiling.

"Danielle!" Valerie called after her. "Elle, wait! Come back!"

But she was gone. Invisible or fazed through the ceiling, the hunter couldn't tell.

[royal-dragon7]

I just watched “The platform” and I’m not really sure how to feel about it :,D

The only thing I know for certain is it would fit extremely well with either an sbi family dynamic or Destiel. Maybe I’ll do both. I dunno man it just… it just has those nice dystopian but everyone KNOWS it’s messed up but can’t do shit about it vibes

Like for the ending it could be like the four of them on the platform and techno trying to balance food on his head and defending, Phil defending as well as giving rations, while Tommy just kind of threatens people and Wilbur is trying to hand out rations but also trying to serenade people into joining their quest (he’s failing miserably)

This is one of those times I just accept I wouldn’t survive

Man I’m a vegetarian I can’t DO cannibalism, even if I talk about it more than is appropriate. It’s an interesting subject! And even if I DID eat people WHICH I DONT! I could NOT eat them raw. I like my food well made, I’m picky like that.

Like I could totally stab people, I’m fine with that… so I guess I could ride the platform down to the bottom and then use it to ride to the top to get food

I’m also very short so I could probably survive longer without food.

Edit: so the issue here is the fact that the only way I can gain enough body fat to survive a month without food is by over-eating, which essentially means I’d be continuing the cycle of starving lower levels…. Dammit.

So maybe I ask if I can have a shit ton of matches so I can cook the human meat? I could probably wash it in the sink first then-

Stfu me you’re a vegetarian

Okay so the best option is bring- like- some kind of long range weapon, ride the platform down, get food at the top, and then go back down to my level.

Ez wiinnn

Except people trying to cannibalize me on the way down

Hmmm

I mean I’m good at martial arts but that’s a lot of people to fight

[clovercalliber]

oh yeah goretober is a thing, isn't it

huhhh don't hit keep reading if you don't want to see: way too many teeth, guts, lots of guts, way too many eyes on one guy, weird shapeshifter mutations, impaling, big centipede-like creatures, broken bones, sewing needles, a really fucking big safety pin, someone frothing at the mouth

i hate my day 1 so much it's not even gore

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[warmcupofbloodinfusedcoffeebeans]

Memorial Drive.

There is a house in a field at the end of Memorial Drive. The field occasionally has cows in it, sheep, horses even. There's a little concrete milking barn in a grove of ancient peach trees with bearded wheat wrapping around the cinderblock foundation. Nature has begun to cling to it, and has begun to rip apart the walls with Her slow, unyielding prowess that continues onward no matter the circumstances.

Within the abandoned cinderblock building, under the rotting rafters and moldy shingles, there is a rotting skull. Bovine, in nature (If you'd mind the pun.) The skull is picked clean around the base - Ants, most likely. The most jarring thing, however, is the crying and bloody person in the corner, holding onto their stomach and trying not to cry out in pain.

They were soaked. Blood, sweat, their hair hadn't been washed in weeks. It was knotted to their skull like a nest. They cried, cried, cried silently as the repeated wracking sobs sent flaming-hot searing pain down their side, and into their gut.

At the end of Memorial Drive, there is a house in a field. The house is just as abandoned as it's little milk barn - the concrete foundation is falling apart, the timbers are so wet and termite-infested it's like you could touch it and the entire house would fall on top of you. It looked like it had just rained - brimming with soaked-up water. The ground was dry, the clay dirt was crumbling and filled with gopher holes.

The door falls easily under your palm. The frame crumbles under you and your hand feels soaked, chunks of old rotting wood coming off and sticking to your hand. As you enter the building, there is a stench. A stench so powerful it practically punches into your lungs - violating your very insides. Such an unwelcoming, gut-wrenching stench that you debate turning back, it's like it was ordering you out, but your curiosity still lingers, and you look back for just a second.

Your little red truck is out there parked outside the gate. The cattle grate was rusting and old, a testament to how those old things are so resilient. For just the split-second you look back there, you think you see the silhouette of a figure, shadowy behind your shitty two-seater. You glance back again, only to see it gone again.

Odd. You think. Must've just been my imagination. You turn back into the little house. Rotting stairs on either side of the foyer, with a banister connecting them. There is absolutely no way that those stairs are safe - yet you can see very clear foot steps impressed upon the soaked wood, like someone had just recently been inside.

Blue hells this place is nasty.. You think. As you make your way into the house, you flick on the little flashlight you brought with you, flashing it up into the banister, and over to your left and right.

The foyer opens up into five paths. Left, into what looks like a dining and kitchen room. Forward, in between the stairs into a living room, and the two sides of the banister - both leading into incomprehensible darkness. On your right, there's a door. The door, in fact that entire wall, seems much, much newer. Like it had been replaced recently. The wall was clean, apart from some water damage. The door was of solid oak, and there was a bronze handle on it.

It is bright. Too bright. So bright you can barely look at the door and wall for long enough to take any details in - yet it stays in the wall. The rest of the house is dark, musty, and moldy. The fuck? There's no way this is normal, but you must just be seeing things. Maybe the mold was getting to you.

You cough. The stench had mostly settled into your lungs, but you could still smell it. You made your way into the living room, not daring the stairs, and apparently not feeling too hungry. As you do, you hear loud creaks on each and every board you step on. Your boots leave deep imprints with each step you make.

The living room is a mess. A torn couch sits in front of an empty entertainment center, filthy books are littering the floor, and there's chairs set up around the, again, rotting, entertainment center. pulling your shirt up to your nostrils, you can barely help to not run out of the house. You look back - the door was still shut. The windows on either side of the farmhouse door were still musty and dirty. The shapes of dirty form into people, and you shake your head. Did you know that the human brain is so good at recognizing people that it makes it incredibly easy to create faces in specks of dirt, in bark, and in other, non-human things?

You look back to the living room, and notice a door to your right. There are no windows in the living room - it's darker and mustier here than it was in the foyer. You flash your light across the entire room, and spot a little black nightstand in the corner, set up very delicately. As you approach it, you notice it's not a nightstand at all - it's an altar. One you've never seen before. It was made of a blackened wood, curling and writhing into a platform that held unlit candles. There was a deepened bowl fit within the curling wood, filled with a liquid you couldn't make out. Black, with writhing shapes within it, it almost screamed for you to leave - to never come back - but you shook off the feeling as stupid metaphysical bullcrap.

Probably just nerves, right? You turn around, and you walk towards the books on the ground. You've always loved a good book, but these ones are incomprehensible. What pages weren't wet and burned, were made up of incomprehensible scribblings. These looked like journals, in some language. Chinese, maybe? Japanese? They didnt look like any sort of language you'd seen before - maybe they were just chicken scratch.

You look to the hallway that shot off from the living room. It's silent, and you look around with your flashlight, but you swear you can feel eyes on you. Like you're being watched. Like theres intense, angry eyes looking down on you and telling you to leave. You're being watched, and you can feel it. There's someone here that wants to leave.

You stand up from your crouching position and you dust yourself off. Your knees are soaked, and you can feel water inching into your boots. That's weird, You think. These boots are sealed pretty tightly. Feels like i need to get new boots though. You make your way to the hallway, creeped out to say the least, but not enough to make you leave. You never believed in that hocus-pocus bullcrap anyway. Nerves are nerves! You tell yourself, stuffing those feelings down and ignoring them.

Imagine what they'd say if i came back without any sort of cool stories to tell. You think. This isn't exactly urban exploring but it'll definitely make some of the guys at home happy. You make your way to the hallway, and shine your light down it. Before you can even react, there's a loud, uncompromising BANG behind you, and you stumble forwards, into the wet, moldy carpet and through the floor.

You land on a hard, rough concrete floor - and you cry out in pain. Tears well into your eyes as you feel the moldy carpet under you seep it's disgusting fluids into your open wounds - freshly ripped open from the rough landing, and from the sharp concrete under you.

You sit up after a while, and get ahold of your surroundings. Your hand clutches at your arm, and you try to wipe the filth off of it, only partially successful. You find more success with your t-shirt. Your surroundings are cluttered. The smell of mold isnt as strong here, just dust and old things. Insulation is scattered below you, and you look at the rotting boards surrounding you. You're extremely lucky no nails got stuck into you, there were quite a few still in the wood.

There's a creak from above - You can hear feet sloshing around in the soaked, muddy carpet of the living room. You inch away from the hole you just made - scooting from your position under the hole and towards the darkness of what seems to be a cellar. You bump into a crate, and wince. Something in your back hurts like hell, your right arm has begun to throb, but you ignore it. Fuck.. you think, wincing in pain as you clamber into the deep darkness of the basement. You look back - and there's a shadow looming over the hole you made, and a single shaft of like - almost taunting you - beams right onto your flashlight. You dropped it when you fell, and didnt pick it up.

There was no time to waste - you'd deal with the consequences later. You stumbled further into the darkness, stubbing your toe and running into crates as you felt your way across the maze of crates, cardboard boxes that were soaked in only certain places, and a new, much less welcoming stench filled your nostrils. One of metallic copper. You pushed past the smell, ignoring it. You finally stumbled into a poorly-lit room, one with dim, flashing florescent lights that made it just barely better too see. As you stepped into the room, you noticed the change in flooring - no longer was it rough-hewn cellar, it was a checkerboard black and white tile, ever so slightly tilted, your feet struggled to find solid ground.

Your boots were still soaked from the carpet up above, and you slipped a little while stepping into the room. The metallic scent was strong here, and as the lights flickered on for just a second, you saw what horrifying sight was causing it - The room was coated in blood, hanging carcasses stared at you with empty eye sockets that told you off for even venturing onto the property. These weren't cattle, you could tell. No cow has skin like that.

The smell of blood sickened you - it penetrated your deepest crevices and forced its way into your lungs. You could barely take it, and you held back the vomit you oh so wanted to expell. You stepped forwards, and slipped - landing face-first into the pool of blood that wasn't your own, tears driping down your face as you struggle to stand again, and you heard the slam of a door - crying out as you slipped, and slammed your head into the tile. You tried to stand, your own blood mixing with the other's as you clambered back towards the cellar, but you could hear the soft, calm footsteps of a figure entering the killing room. You heard a door open, god knows where, the room didnt have any that you could see, and you felt a rough hand grab you by the hair.

"NO, GOD PLEASE NO!!" You scream, begging for mercy as the hand dragged you further into the killing room, soaking your already nasty clothing in stranger's blood, suddenly, you heard a grunt of irritation from the figure who had a hold of you - you heard a sickly RIP as they ripped something out of the carcass on their right, and then you felt a disgusting, wet, slimy thing be stuffed into your mouth and tied behind your head.

There was a painful crack across the back of your head, and you were out cold.

[clownnstuff]

Anyone want the cut ending of Liminal?

you do?

Major TW- lots of gore (very detailed), sharp teeth, lots of dying, and bad words

You look up to Spring. He stares back. His jaw is unhinged and it shows off his razor-sharp teeth. Cotton and blood drip from them, black ichor as well.

You feel yourself shake. Your chest is tight and your sight is blurring as tears threaten to fall.

All this work.

You look to your side, Sun's bloodied corpse lays still, tossed carelessly. A tear rolls down your face at the sight. You blame yourself. You couldn't save him. You couldn't if you tried. Even so. You didn't even try.

You grab your chest, bunching the fabric of your shirt in your hand. More tears roll, falling into the puddles that surround you.

You hear steps from behind you. But you can't look. you can't do anything but sob. You never could do anything. No matter what you did, you could never do it right. You always fuck it up.

you feel a clawed hand hook onto your shirt, slicing your skin in the process. It drags you towards Spring. Your limbs drag across the floor, scrapping your skin till the bleed and leave little red lines across the floor.

You feel like screaming. You feel like flailing around till the grip on your back loosens or tears you out. But you don't. You don't know why, you don't know when, but you've given up.

You wonder how Avery is. Is she looking for you? At this point, she'd probably given up. Just like you have. It's probably less painful for her. At least physically.

You're glad it's finally ending.

But all this work. For nothing?

You feel yourself being tossed forward, hitting something hard that bruises your back. Everything thing stings and burns. Your cuts feel almost as fresh as when they were first sliced. Even your old cuts burn and ache.

You hear words above you, the voices of Moon and Spring. Spring's voice is deeper and boomier than when you first met him. Moon sounds so angry. You can tell he blames you. You deserve it. You should've helped Sun. He's helped you so much. But when he needed saving, you gave up. You froze, letting him get stabbed and beaten. You deserve a fate as painful as this.

2 hands that are far bigger than humanly possible flip you over onto your back. You see bright red eyes glow from above you. You can barely make out the faces of Spring and Moon through the fat tears that continuesly fall.

You feel a sharp finger trace along your body. Starting from your hairline to your ankle, then back up again. The sharp point stops at your heart. With the slightest amount of pressure, it cuts your skin. You feel more warm, wet blood stain your shirt.

You see Spring's face inches towards your chest, where the burning cut above your heart bleeds. You feel his teeth graze over your chest. You curl yourself inwards, but large hands stop you.

This is your fate.

You finally accept it was painfully sharp teeth crush your body. You don't feel it when they reach your heart. The sudden intense pain was enough to let you pass quickly.

fuck.

Avery'll never know why you left her.

[wanologic]

fortunately, or unfortunately, they only see each other like 3 times a year…

[voltaical-art]

do you guys ever think about how Wyll is introduced as an archetypal fantasy hero, but then it turns out he’s a warlock, who made a pact with a devil. Do you ever think about how Ansur is described as this fantastical dragon of myth, but then when you find him, he’s turned into an undead monstrosity. Do you think about how when Wyll does the right thing, he is punished to become more monstrous. Do you think about how as Wyll’s warlock powers grow, his spells get more horrific. Do you think about how Ansur was killed by his closest friend. Do think about how Wyll was cast out by the most important person in his life. do you guys ever think about Ansur and Wyll.

[cloudmancy]

lapin & keradin for the "all gore goes" d20 zine!

poem excerpt: where it begins, erica jong 1971

[umblrspectrum]

"smaller mass" you say

[dappy-dappernette]

I keep on hearing people go all "The voice of the Smitten is such a creep. All he wants in the princess is someone to control and keep as a pretty object. He'd drop the princess if she wasn't the perfect petite maiden like in the damsel route." and I will not stand for the Smitten slander.

Like- He's been in love with her as a burning corpse ghost lady:

A terrifying ghost woman who wants to bring fear and chaos to the world:

And even a murderous blade monster woman who would kill you and enjoy every second of it:

Like, he ALWAYS loves the princess no matter what she looks like or how she acts, he loves her for being herself no matter what or who she is. That's the point of his character and I'm tired of people slandering my boy.

[jadenvargen]

posted this on twit but rejected draft for a transgender horror anthology. based on my youth experiences having dinners with bigoted family members while closeted. (deemed too gorey to fit the theme)

[shepscapades]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [PART 6] [Part 7] [Don’t Let it Reach the Heart]

[This comic is part of my dbhc au, following the chaos and panic that ensues after Doc and Xisuma try to get Etho back online at the start of s9 after a very rough s8 finale that leaves him a little. broken. It's set to the vibes of Joywave's Destruction!]

[r1ngfinger]

that was so movie