#Trigger warning implied murder

[faux-ecrivain]

Frightened Ex x Yandere reader

“When Cupid gets it wrong, goodbyes can be messy.” - that private eye who worked for the HPD for thirty years from that one episode of Hawaï Five-O where that girl in a red dress died and the private eye was narrating the story

(Trigger warning: murder, death and amputation are mentioned/implied.)

(Also, you, the reader, are the yandere here)

(Sixteenth Official Post)

(Merry Christmas)

(Happy Holidays)

(name is Anthony)

          When you and Anthony first started dating he thought you were an absolutely wonderful person, he admired you and would go out of his way to please you. Then just 4 years into your relationship, you started to behave… strangely. You were more possessive and would often isolate him from his friends (regardless of gender).     

         Sometimes, you would makes jokes about locking him up and killing all his friends, which made him very uncomfortable. Luckily, after expressing his discomfort, you quit joking like that, but now he was wary around you and he was considering breaking up with you. However, when he expressed this decision to you, you informed him that you wouldn’t let him leave and would make sure he knew his place.

——————————————————————

   Anthony’s breath was muffled by his hands, his eyes squeezed shut as he prays that you won’t find him. He doesn’t know why you’re acting like this, treating him like a prisoner and trying to lock him away in your dreary, albeit big, house. He shuffles further into the closet, his knees up and his legs pulled close to his body. Tears fall down his face and he sniffles, what once was a beautiful, loving relationship, was now massacred beyond fixing.

         He listens as you creep through the hallway, he hears your ominous voice call out to him and he fights the urge to run into your arms. Yes, he’s scared, but often when he was scared you would be there to comfort him. Your footsteps grow closer, the floorboards creak and you stop in front of the closet. You taunt him, calling out for him, even though he’s certain you know he’s in there. “Anthony, baby, wheeere are yoou? Are you hiding from me?” Shivers wrack his body the moment he hears a haunting giggle escape your mouth. 

          “That’s not very nice, Anthony. Didn’t your mommy ever teach you manners?” Anthony’s tears fall faster as you bring up his mother, he’s sure you’ve done something to her, probably killed her. You begin moving again, the creaking of the floorboards lessen in volume and he assumes you’ve moved away from the closet. Still, he doesn’t leave and instead waits inside the closet for a matter of minutes. He listens diligently for your footsteps and hopes you won’t come back. 

          After at least 20 minutes have passed he cracks the closet door open, his eyes roam across the expanse of the hallway and his fear lessens once he sees the hall empty. He sneaks out of the closet, quietly closes the door behind him and sneaks in the direction opposite of the way that you went. For a moment, Anthony believes he can escape, he thinks he can make it to the door and run away from you. He thinks he came leave you behind, but he was wrong, so very wrong. 

          His heart stops when you call out to him, your voice smug and haughty. “There you are, baby, trying to escape, again?” He turns around and his body freezes as you approach. His heart beats erratically and he can barely form a single thought in his brain. Then he quickly snaps to when he realizes the distance between you two is slowly closing. He wills his legs to work and, when they do, he rushes off in a random direction. One that will hopefully allow him freedom or a moment’s salvation. 

         You groan when he runs off again, it was getting quite annoying and each time he ran it made you want to immobilize him. You snicker at the thought, but since you have no desire to traumatize him, more than you already have, you decide against such an idea. You stalk after him, taking your time as you knew he was likely lost in the maze of a house you own. Your throat vibrates as you begin to hum, a tune much too joyful for the present time. You hear Anthony crack open the door to the left wing of your house, well it isn’t actually your house, but does that really matter? 

          Anthony closes the heavy mahogany door behind him and wince at the loud slam it releases. He wrings his hands together and begins to walk down the darkened hallway, he’s never seen this part of the house before, it’s all worn down. He exhales and continues walking, his eyes glancing around his surroundings and taking in the strange decorations hanging up. Some of them seem entirely too old for such a modern house, some seem to be straight from the eighteenth century. 

          He doesn’t have time to dwell on your strange interior choices, as he hears the mahogany doors creak open and slam shut. His hearts begins to race, once more, and he knows you’re near. He fears that he might never escape and that you would catch him. He’s so scared, so frightened. He doesn’t know what to do, should he run or should he hide?

(I know everyone voted yes go back to my old style, but I didn’t know how else to write this oneshot. Don’t worry though, I’ll still listen to you guys and will continue writing in my old style, but I might also write this way.)

(Hope you enjoyed and hopefully you guys are excited for the next part!)

—————————————————-

(Don’t worry, I’m going to post all three (or two) endings, I just need to know which one you want first.)

(Expect another post around 12:30 this afternoon)

[blueequin0x]

Prompt 16] Plants // Art + Speedpaint

Song that this art is based on: https://youtu.be/ZVFfeTIWWco?si=W7eWDUBJW6sBOP2V

Warnings for the song: loud/jarring music, blood, violence, jarring sound effects

The true horror of this drawing is trying to draw hands AND foliage in the same drawing

CONTENT WARNINGS: [all of this is fictional] semi-realistic blood splatters, implied murder/violence, implied dismemberment / an arm in a plant pot [i have no idea how to word that warning without just saying it] // please tell me if I missed any :]   

IMAGE UNDER BREAK

Zoomed in versions

DO NOT REPOST // DO NOT REMOVE CAPTION AND CONTENT WARNINGS

total time taken: 9 hours 40 minutes

link to the speedpaint: https://youtu.be/3NN28bcfcdM

[vilsoo]

‎ 𝑽𝑰𝑳𝑺𝑶𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑺…

‎ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 ‎ ‎ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧… 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫!

‎ 𖤐 ORDER YOUR TICKETS HERE 𖤐 ‎ ֺ [ taglist ]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘; 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘… Inspired by Universal Studios Halloween Horror Nights, indulge in sex and horror galore at our premiere Kinktober event, HORRORLAND! Would you dare venture our haunted houses, experience our exhilarating attractions, and uncover the scandalous, deadly mysteries of Horrorland?

fandoms: jujutsu kaisen, spiderman atsv, fnaf, re4, codmw2.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

ㅤ ↓ 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 (𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓) ↓

FRIDAYS🩸 we welcome our fellow monster fuckers into this territory! deadly creatures preying on their victims, serving their lustful fantasies with wild, animalistic urges! your arousal and fear may provoke them further, so beware of the woods…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟒𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ❞ starring GHOST!LEON KENNEDY (re4)

who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead… and ghosts?

⚠︎ CW: mentions of stalking, slight ooc leon, angst, hurt/comfort, haunted vacation home, voyeurism, paranormal activity, sex with a ghost, gentle → rough smut, mirror sex, switchy!leon, 1980s setting.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟏𝟖𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 ❞ starring WEREWOLF!MIGUEL O’HARA (atsv)

during the bloodmoon on halloween, your werewolf boyfriend feels a rapacious urge to knock you up.

⚠︎ CW: established relationship, miguel in heat, rough sex, soft sex, marking, biting, possession, breeding, knotting, impregnating, degrading/praising, power struggle, multiple orgasms, 1980s setting.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟓𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 ❞ starring RYOMEN SUKUNA (jjk)

a camping trip you planned with your friends turns out to be a total nightmare, all caught on camera…

⚠︎ TW: suspense, horror/thriller themes, gruesome murder, gore, ritual sex, demon sex, satanism, sadism, betrayal, teratophilia, size kink, double penetration, plot twist, ib the blair witch project (1999), 1980s setting.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

SATURDAYS 🍷 the depths of hell fall on this dark and gloomy city bound to corruption and sin, known as the devil’s playground! lurking within the streets beholds the prurient reigns of terror that which may also arouse parkland guests…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟓𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ❞ starring NANAMI KENTO (jjk)

with you and your boyfriend being a regular at this fancy restaurant, the owner became very fond of you…

⚠︎ TW: cannibalism, chef/restaurant owner nanami, poisoning, murder, infidelity/cheating, eventual smut, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, jealousy, dark obsession, slight stalking, gore, mutilation.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟏𝟐𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ❞ starring WILLIAM AFTON (fnaf)

as the new intern and your boss developing a dark obsession over you, he feels the need to corrupt you…

⚠︎ TW: dubcon, mind control (glitchtrap virus), sadism, murder, psychological abuse, manipulation, predator/prey dynamic, implied age gap, degradation, eventual rough smut, mentions of vanny mask.

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟔𝐓𝐇: ❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐄 ❞ starring CHOSO (jjk)

accidentally bringing a girl back from the dead may have been horrifying, but falling in love with her..?

⚠︎ CW: horror/romcom themes, implied necrophilia (NO intercourse), college au, accidental ritual, romance, mentions of murder, suggestive smut, inspired by lisa frankenstein (2024) and corpse bride (2005).

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

FOR OUR HALLOWEEN SPECIAL . . . not only are you immersed into the stories of our attractions, you get the real experience of being a parkland guest having a fun time at Horrorland with friends! but as thrilling as it all sounds, there are many scandals and articles of what really goes down…

𖤐 𝐎𝐂𝐓 𝟑𝟏: ❝ 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋? ❞ HEADLINE: PARKLAND VISITOR CAUGHT HAVING INTERCOURSE WITH A SCARE ACTOR!

flirting has become a common fear response when encountering hot masked scare actors chasing you at halloween events. this scandal covers a parkland visitor fawning over the hot scare actor in the Deathgasm haunted house, König, resulting in them flirting and sneaking off together…

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

⚠︎ 𝐁𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. ⚠︎

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐎 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. please do not steal my kinktober prompts/works/themes! reposting any of my works outside tumblr that minors can access is strictly prohibited. will be cross posted on my ao3 soon.

[askmafiabobvelseb]

Angry Father..

(content warning! talk of CSA, cussing, and attempted murder!)(and angry bobba)

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

[alilbatflies]

I took part in @thepenultimateword's song-story writing challenge. It was fun!

My assigned song was Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel, submitted by @wacko-weirdo.

...

The fire cracks and sways, warm against the cold night. The shadows of those gathered around it dance much like flowers in the wind, swaying calmly without hurry. A unique form of slow dancing.

The hunter watches from further away. They could listen in on the conversation if they wanted to, but the sounds all smudge in their head. They barely manage to thread the waters of their conflicting thoughts. They’re tired.

The tree against their back is grounding. It’s the hunter’s only comfort. They don’t think to ask for more. They couldn’t possibly.

The group seems so calm. As if they’ve forgotten that there are still soldiers hunting them. The conversation is light, flickering with laughter like the dancing flames, all-consuming.

…perhaps they wish to forget for a while.

The hunter would much like to forget, too.

“Are you going to join us?”

The hunter looks at their old friend. Old friend doesn’t quite cut it. Neither does lover. Neither does any other label that the hunter has tried over the years. Their friend is simply always there.

Their witch friend.

The witch meets their eyes. The fire reflects in the deep brown that is so familiar to the hunter. Its familiarity offers comfort—comfort, which the hunter is unable to accept.

The hunter can’t bear to look.

They turn back towards the fire. Staring into the light is a bad idea, the hunter knows, for one cannot monitor the shadows blinded. And yet, they look. The blazing flames seem to swallow their worries, to soothe. The fire gazes right into their soul and warms its darkest corners. It all feels alright for a little while.

The witch gently takes their hand. They tug the hunter along, towards the fire.

The hunter’s arm lifts to follow the movement but they do not budge. The tree they’re leaning against is their anchor then. They fear losing their ground. They fear getting lost entirely.

They want to go. They want to let themselves be pulled along, they want to join everyone, they want to belong. They want to belong, to finally, finally…

“I’ve killed too many.”

On someone else’s orders. Because of someone else’s ideals. They didn’t know better.

The blood is on their hands.

I might have killed you, too.

The witch steps closer to them, interlocking their fingers instead. They examine their hand, the knuckles, callouses and scars. Those little wounds that tell the stories, if one can read them well enough.

They run their fingers over the hunter’s bandaged forearm, a ghost of a touch. They were the one who tended to the hunter’s injury that day.

“You’ve helped us get away.” The witch meets the hunter’s gaze. “You’ll help us still, won’t you?”

“Of course.” For you.

The witch keeps staring into their eyes. They might be trying to look right past, into the hunter’s mind and soul. They might just be able to read each and every of the hunter’s thoughts.

The hunter has thoughts. The hunter has many thoughts, flying around in their head, possibly causing more harm than good. The hunter can’t seem to stop them.

The hunter knows nothing of herbs. They know nothing of healing. With each moment passing by, they learn that they know nothing of witches, either. They try to learn.

They were told witches are dangerous. They were told they were vicious, vile creatures, evil beings beyond salvation. They were told death was a witch’s only comfort.

It used to be their only truth. The only thing that could help them carry the weight of their sword somewhat, when all of the life seeped out of another pair of silver eyes. It was their shield when the weight of taking a life threatened to slit them open.

It has all shattered so easily.

The hunter vividly recalls the moment their friend’s eyes flashed silver. Their friend was pushed to the edge, looking to them for help. The pieces fit together perfectly. The soldier next to them lunged forward. Their blow never landed.

The hunter met the others a little later on. The other not so evil creatures, who just want to live.

The hunter knows a little better now.

Witches are curious about the world much like their friend has always been. They bear their own weight, the magic running silver in their blood. They desire to live. To be safe. To be understood. The hunter can relate perfectly.

They try to learn.

“Thank you,” the hunter says.

“For what?”

Thank you for opening my eyes. For trusting me. For not letting me stay in the clutches of their truth.

“Being such a pain in my ass.”

The witch laughs. The sound wraps over the hunter like a soft blanket. Nobody ever told them that a witch’s laugh could heal.

The witch lifts the hunter’s hand. They press a kiss to it, holding their gaze.

The hunter shivers.

“I should thank you,” the witch whispers, “for protecting us.”

“Always.”

The witch pulls them along again. Towards the fire. Towards their family.

This time, the hunter lets them.

[midas-well]

Bid

Staring into the mirror, I cannot recognize myself as I once was, nor as I came to be. The girl in the mirror is not me. With a complexion manufactured to be bright and warm, full of life and vitality. She shares my dull, lifeless eyes, and yet I know that, deep down, that shouldn't be me. That the bright, innocent shine of curiosity and wonder was stripped away long ago.

I don't listen to what they are saying. A lady decorates my mask with a brush softer than a beloved kitten's fur, in stark contrast to the stony hands that hold me down in my seat, making sure I can't leave even if I fought. Sometimes I feel the chains that bind me start to dig deeper into my flesh, as though it were threatening to shatter me into a million beautifully broken shards of fleshy glass; a meat pie that everyone wants a slice of.

I can barely focus, my body's bruises having been sealed away with the liquids and powders generously applied, ensuring nobody sees it. Nobody likes the discolored fruits. The body encasing my battered soul is jostled, handled as though I were not a human being, like I were a doll they saw fit to move and tilt and bend and break however they pleased. The angle of my head is tilted painfully, allowing the lady easier access to more of my face and jaw, and denying me the ability to look into my own lifeless eyes.

I'm barely even present for the presentation. They talk up how beautiful I am, sweet poison as they pretend I hold value. If I did, why would one wish to be rid of such value? Is it simply to find amusement in the dogs who slobber at the sight of 'quality meat'? Do they believe I will lose it so fast that I need to be traded out within a certain number of days? The puppet I pilot is walked out on stage, showing off the pristine appearance the lady gave me. Give a little spin, show the good stuff. It's demeaning.

Numbers blur together past my ears, only able to catch a couple of them clear enough. The way he speaks to me tells me the numbers are too low to him. And as such, more is demanded of me to prove my value, because it has to be proven. What can the little doll do? I have grown too accustomed to the way this vessel is treated that I feel nothing as they show off how obedient of a plaything I can be. No tears; it would ruin the pretty lady's makeup job; it would show weakness, emotion, violation; it would be ugly—or maybe some people are into that, but that's not how I'm being marketed. I'm to be completely compliant to any handling with no complaint.

The voices get harsher, louder as a select handful from the crowd get excited at the prospective goods they can get their undoubtedly gross, tainted hands on. Higher and higher, everything goes. Every sense is being ravaged by the onslaught of stimuli. The greedy bastards, whom intend to take full advantage and profit off their enjoyment.

When I come to once more, I am sat by the east side of the auction hall, back to the warm, biscuity looking wall. The floor under me feels simultaneously cold on some areas of the tile, whilst others are an almost unnerving kind of warmth. It takes several long moments for my brain to catch up, for my eyes to be capable of focusing on the sights before me, to truly feel what was so disconcerting about the situation.

It is dead quiet. That's the first thing that caught my attention proper, as I was not being directed by the taller beings, nor was I swamped in the overstimulating cacophony of number calls. Then the stench, though surely it must've become familiar enough to not seem so bad in the moment. It's not an easy feat to ascertain the distinct scents of a myriad of scattered corpses, yet if given the chance, surely each would be just slightly unique enough—though I fear what it would give away about their past life.

I can only bear to catch brief glimpses of the gore surrounding me. Piles of soft pink and deep red flesh, plenty of parts with dried brown blood that is nearly black in an oozy stasis. The air is foul, death hanging in the air and weighing it down. Many mangled corpses are unrecognizable, features struck out and mashed, limbs and organs impossible to trace back to the host bodies. Of the few that are distinguishable, most are far enough away to be difficult to identify... save for one in particular that can't help but be seen.

A woman's head, near untouched beyond the proof of decapitation at the neck, rests like a trophy where the auctioneer takes the bids. An indescribable feeling of unease washes over me at the sight. Flickers of memories that are not mine come to me, flashing in my mind, recontextualizing the way I look at the carnage scattered about. The insurmountable rage and pain at the injustices dealt to me, how it must feel to pounce on a tall being that is suddenly so small to me. The feeling of blood on my raw skin becomes vibrant like a neon sign, impossible to ignore.

...Did I do this?

In the bits of memory I can recall, however, it is not my body doing this. Not what I have grown to believe is my body. It is far more insectoid in form. A looming mass, standing tall from my body as though it has shed its skin and revealed itself and the danger it can pose. Many spindly, long limbs, sharp enough where it matters. Thick and tough, tougher than the humans that provoked it. Everything is tinted red in the memories.

I feel nothing towards these memories, even the few explicitly violent scenes. They do not feel like me, they feel foreign and strange, as though I'm simply watching a movie. But it is connected just enough to leave a different churning sensation in my stomach, one that deep down acknowledges that it is undoubtedly this monster, these memories, that caused the fleshy mess that lay before me. And with the only sound being any vehicles driving past outside, I feel something drip down onto my skin. For the first time in… however long, I'm crying.

[henriiiii-1001old]

FUNNY REMAKE OF THIS!!!!!!! i was just like "what if this was lineless" and i went w it BUT IM SO PROUD OF THIS SO YEAH!!!!!

also yeah for those who are td fans, puppet gets the signature green jacket bc haha funny reference to the music producer whose mascot is literally a serial killer CFVGBHNJ

other versions under the cut!

[bunsuuu]

[Ghostly presence]

TW: blood, 🔫 wound / implied murder ig

A bit of lore about Haylee's mom;

* She died practically a week after her birth from an "accidental" gunshot to the head from her husband. She was 26

* Haylee cannot see her but can feel her presence from time to time (she doesn't actually know it's her mom

* She's always around Haylee, watching over her like a hawk even in death. She is not bound to supernatural rules, she is only bound to her daughter

* She was raised in a cult, growing up to become the cult's oracle. She was forced to give birth to Haylee as she would eventually become the next oracle (family traditions am I right-)

I got lazy, I didn't want to draw Haylee's mom's hands, bear with me lmao 💀

[straws-berries]

meant to post this earlier, but heres chris!! she is definitely very normal and doesnt stalk or kidnap people at all 😁😁

[daily-lego-sets]

LEGO System:

Concentration Camp

Set: 6772

1996

April Fools!!!

[ilona-mushroom]

Maybe I’m just a commie but I think people are way too used to/desensitized to homelessness. The fact that people are out there sleeping in the elements doesn’t bother some of y’all nearly enough.

[awlimagines]

NSFW - Pit of Bones

Possessive Reader x Flora

TW: Implied Deaths, Murder, and Serial Murders

I pulled mostly from the numerous documentaries/podcasts I've listened to over the years. Some of the themes and the location and title are from the Pit of Bones/Sima de los Huesos at Atapuerca in Spain.

Flora captured your heart the moment you first saw her. You found time to help at the dig site each day. Spending the silent time with her chipping away for artifacts was all you needed. But everything changed when Carter proposed to her. Even worse, Flora accepted. You tried taking your usual calming walk on the mountainside. The rugged area off the paths had always been a relief for you, even living in the city. You stopped, seeing a familiar blonde braid through a gap in the overgrown forest. 

Flora was walking along the path, seemingly lost in thought. Hidden in the vegetation, you watched her walk along. Your rage silently bubbled as you considered your situation. She never indicated she had any interest in romance. Least of all, Carter, who had been her teacher at one point! You could feel your fury steadily burning away your love for her. People like this were your least favorite. You blinked, returning to the present as your emotions settled. 

Flora lay bleeding on the ground, groaning as blood seeped into the dirt around her head. Your hammer felt heavy in your hand as you glanced down at the bloodspecked metal. It was okay, you told yourself. This wasn’t the first time you had blacked out. You knew what to do. After quickly wrapping Flora’s head with spare cloth to stop the bleeding, you pulled her limp body into the trees. You took only a moment to kick the drag marks from the dirt path before resuming cleanup. You dropped her legs as you approached the clay-filled pit in the ground. You found it years ago after seeing an animal drop from the surface. 

You paused at the pit’s edge, staring into the inky blackness. You hoped that one-day archeologists would discover and study her. It was almost funny to you. An archaeologist discovers another skull and tries to uncover their death and identity. The one bone of many but the only one to suffer a visibly violent death. A mystery centuries old that could never be solved but make you immortal. Maybe they would think it was a sacrificial pit. They wouldn’t be wrong. The collection of your spurned lovers were the sacrifices to maintain your sanity. They couldn’t reject you if they were gone. You didn’t regret marring Flora’s skull. She had been your favorite so far. Sighing, you kicked her body into the pit. 

Carter came by that evening asking if you had seen Flora. You assumed an innocent look and asked what happened. He explained Flora left for the Hot Springs earlier that day and had yet to return. Carter was trying to see if anyone had seen her before searching the area. The mountain connecting Mineral Town, Forget-Me-Not Valley, and the city was massive. You would be happy to join any search parties to help find her.

[drjdorr]

"So how long has it been since you heard from that facility now? Five? Ten minutes?" Zarra asked the crime lord, a cocky smile on her face despite the ropes binding her to the chair

"Quite" the crime lord said as he nervously paced

"He should be here soon, I'd make amends with any gods you worship"

"I said quite!" His hand smacks against her face out of frustration

"Hehe," she chuckles, the smile still on her face, "you call that a smack? Where I grew up, a hit like that is a sign my mother was having a good day." Suddenly the lights went out and the machinery around them whirred to a stop. "I'd start praying if I was you, before it's too late"

With the power cut the room was dark save the light from the skylight above but these guys hadn't gotten so high in the organization to work directly under the boss by not being able to deal with a bit of darkness. Anyways, there was only one way in and the moment he stepped through that door, he'd be swiss cheese

The room was silent. No one moved, no one even breathed.

Then with a CRASH of shattering glass Jysgo landed as two thugs crumpled to the ground, two bullets expertly placed in the base of their skulls. Jysgo's eyes then rose to meet the crime lord's who saw only death in the drow’s.

Jysgo rose to his height and began advancing on the crime lord, his guns smoothly snapping from goon to goon, each bullet another death as his eyes never left the leader. The crime lord had been in many shoot outs, you don't get into his position without getting your hands dirty on occasion, but he had never seen someone be so casual surrounded by gunfire, not even breaking stride to dodge the knife stab before blowing out the over extending attacker's brain or having a fleeing criminal's brain touch the door right before his fingers would have. Soon only Jysgo, the crime lord, and Zarra remained in the room as Jysgo looked at the crime lord

"Kneel" Jysgo said, his tone almost bored as he glanced over to Zarra to check on her

"I'm sorry, you do not get to-" the crime lord drops to the ground screaming as Jysgo rolled his eyes and used a pair of shots to cause his kneecaps to shatter

"I said kneel" Jysgo said as he sat the muzzle of the gun against his forehead, a pull of the trigger and the crime lord's brain stem would receive a new open concept floor plan.

"P-please" the crime lord begged, the tears unclear if they were from fear or pain "l-let me go, I'll go straight, I'll leave town, you will never see or hear from me again, just let me go please"

Jysgo looked at him, so pathetic, only two bullet wounds and a gun to his head and he's begging for his life. The man wouldn't last a day among Jysgo's people.

"You know," Jysgo said, "I believe you." his gun began to lower, a glimmer of hope entering the crime lord's eyes. But as his gun was passing over his stomach Jysgo continued, "but you hurt Zarra" before firing into his gut twice.

the crime lord shuddered from the shots and was about to topple when Jysgo caught him by his suit coat.

"not risking you having this" Jysgo said as he pulls out the dying man's gun from his pocket and releasing him to fall onto the floor. "not a bad gun" he says before pocketing it.

he walked over to Zarra "are you ok?"

"I'm not a baby Jysgy. Is Grabbyhands ok?" Zarra knew her brother cared but this was a slow Tuesday compared to back home, though he probably wasn't to use to it given he was the reason someone's Tuesday quickly became less slow

"your rat is fine" Jysgo dismissed her customary correction as he gave a whistle and the door handle gave a jiggle before opening to a racoon that quickly ambled over toward Zarra excitedly

"Mr.Grabbyhands! I'm so happy you're ok" Zarra stepped out of the ropes she had untied an hour ago to embrace her pet

"found him near where you were taken. turns out they didn't want a little garbage eating dog" Jysgo said watching the reunion

"Racoon! And he doesn't eat garbage he eats your food"

"not really endearing me to him, but he was almost as impatient to find you as I was. darn mole almost got me shot trying to attack a thug when he didn't stand a chance against"

"Racoon! but... thank you for saving him Jysgy. I know you aren't fond of him but it means alot that you tried to save him" Zarra hoisted up the wriggling mass of fur as Grabbyhands crawled onto her shoulders

"don't get me wrong, he drives me up the wall, but that little skunk makes you happy." Jysgo said looking at the masked critter "that being said, the moment that isn't the case he is getting kicked out of my house"

Zarra gave Jysgo a small punch on the arm "you will have to wait a long time then"

"ughh" the dying man moaned in pain

Zarra walked over to the man before taking out a case from her pocket and setting down a few small flowers "Hemlock" she explained before walking over to leave with Jysgo

[explodingsaturn]

i rlly wish the people who tried to kill me had just finished it off for me. tried a bit harder instead of leaving the job to me.

[katyon2020]

‼️‼️TW: Blood, Gore, Aftermaths of Mutilation and Murder‼️‼️

Day 22: Guts spill

I'm sorry it's so fucking bad...

[of-sea-and-light]

… yeah right.

… look, I’ll tell you EVERYTHING I know about my past life:

I had horrible parents.

I had awful Schizophrenia

I was dirt poor, and I was the only one providing for me and my little brother.

and, at that ONLY job I had, I forgot to take my meds, and murdered 3 kids, ALONG with my only brother, who was SEVEN by the way.

SO THE ONLY THING LEFT TO DO WAS TO JUST, GIVE UP WITH A 12-GAUGE AND-

… *sigh* sorry.

— Carbine

Yelena covers her ears, wincing back. The room starts to turn blueish and blurry at the edges.

“…please at least warn me next time-“

She fidgets with the now-glowing ring.