#burning alive

[tomicscomics]

12/09/2024

(C_C;)

The saints' RPG adventure continues every Monday and Friday through December!

___

JOKE-OGRAPHY: 1. Continuing from the last few cartoons, an angel is running a fantasy RPG for some saints in heaven, namely Sts. Thomas Aquinas, Joan of Arc, Francis of Assisi, and Nicholas of Myra. If you haven't seen the previous parts yet, go get caught up, lest I be caught up in rage. 2. Before they start playing, the angel asks his players if they have any fears or topics they'd like the story to avoid. This is one of they many questions game-masters might ask an unfamiliar group, giving the table a chance to discuss the overall tone they'd prefer. 3. However, for saints, this question is silly. Since they're in heaven, they're maximally peaceful and fulfilled. Thus, they feel no fear. However, because I am a jokey jokester who is liking to be telling the jokes, and because the whole premise of this RPG story arc is absurd on its face, I can't leave things at that. Instead, Joan pipes up and declares that she doesn't want burning alive to be part of the upcoming story, since it's how she was killed by her enemies on earth. 4. Joan is technically not an official martyr, having been sentenced for her private revelations and not for her faith in Christ. However, that’s not very hashtag Sigma, so I called her a martyr in this cartoon. If they have to revoke my Catholic cartoonist license for this, so be it. 5. After Joan says she doesn't want burning alive to be part of the game, the angel looks down at the monster he prepared for the end of the story: a fire-breathing dragon with a ton of fiery attacks. To accommodate Joan, he changes the "fire" dragon to an "ice" dragon and calls it good. He can fix the attack names later.

[vaxolang]

"Burning alive"

Acrylic painting on canvas

Size 50x35 cm

[drawn-corrosion]

Draw the dude (giovanni) drinking toxic acid

“Behooold! My newest edition of Lav-Acid!”

[abhainnwhump]

(Content warnings: Burning alive, implied death, immortal whumpee)

Everything thinks Whumpee is dead, but they're just in a heavily/magically induced sleep. Whumpee's friends decide to cremate their body. Whumpee wakes up in the chamber they're being burned in and scream to get out, pounding on the case.

Bonus points if they have some form of immortality and they are unable to die, just going through it until Whumpee's friends realize what happened. The trust there is forever strained.

[i-am-trans-gwender]

DC Comics: The reason why superheroes didn't kill Hitler is because Hitler had the spear that killed Jesus. The spear gave him control over any superhuman who set foot into Nazi territory.

Marvel Comics: The Human Torch (the android not Johnny Storm) killed Hitler by burning him alive.

(I'm not making any of this up.)

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Decision

Followup to Slow Burn and Refuge

Author's Notes: just really happy I managed to write something :')

Content Warnings: vampire whump, burning alive, impaled, left to die

----

There is no unseeing those eyes or unhearing those words. No going back to blissful ignorance. No just walking away.

Matteo is left with two choices.

Kill the vampire, or help him.

It would be merciful to kill him. It would be kind.

The problem is, Matteo has never killed anyone before. Not even as a wolf. He stays in distant, rural areas to avoid just that. And now he's being asked to, in his fully aware, human state, end another life.

Is a vampire really alive?

He doesn't know, and he isn't sure it matters. The creature is clearly suffering, that's alive enough.

It could be a trap. But something tells him that isn't the case.

So help it is.

"If you bite me," he warns, "I'll leave you like this."

Who is he kidding? The vampire can't even keep his head up, let alone attack. At the very suggestion of being left he lets out a rasping sob that makes Matteo's chest tighten in sympathy.

"Okay. Okay."

He takes a deep breath and approaches. Upon closer inspection it's clear that the only thing keeping the man upright is a wooden stake protruding from his chest.

Here goes nothing.

Matteo braces himself with one foot on the wall and grips the stake. It takes a several sharp tugs and all his strength but soon it pulls free. He stumbles backwards. The vampire crumples to the floor.

Without thinking, Matteo removes his tattered flannel and drapes it over the creature's bare torso before it can accumulate any more burns. Then he hurries to the window and pulls shut the thick, ornate outer curtains, blocking out the light.

His eyes adjust quickly to the dark. He lowers himself to sit beside the vampire's trembling body.

"Guess you need blood, huh?" He sighs and stretches out his arm, making one of the deeper cuts re-open. "Lucky for you, I'm already bleeding. Open up."

----

To be continued..........?

[s4int0fthep1t]

Arsony but not in a “2020-discord-bunny-hat-monster-energy-gun” way more like a “Lingua Ignota-Ethel Cain-Saint Maud-Joan-Of-Arc-Lord Of The Flies” way

[crownsandbishops]

hey narinder,

What happened to x-.. elon after lamb overthrown you?

[liesandnights]

[echojengine]

killing geraldo

[vaxolang]

Burning alive

acrylic painting on canvas

size 50x35 cm

[pinkyberet]

TW// Melting/Burning 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Burning Alive

[supernightynight]

[thats-by-the-by]

Collapsed Building

This fic was crossposted on Ao3. Find it Here. Mind the tags.

Jacob isn't quick enough.

The Alhambra is burning, the roof is falling, and Jacob can't reach the door. The ash burns in his throat and lungs, his arm blisters and boils under his hidden blade. He should have told someone he would be here. He should have told Henry that if he didn't return by sunrise, he was here. He should just stand up. He needs to stand up. Why can't he move his legs?

Jacob pulls himself towards a burning table, determined to use it to pull himself up. He has to stand up. He has to go home. He has to escape, he has to live. For the Rooks. For London. He can't die here.

Some puddle of something wet and red makes him slide under the table

"Fuck." Jacob swear. "Fucking, shit, fuck I can't-"

Then the world goes dark and dust envelopes him.

~~~

Jacob coughs as he wakes, coals blistering the skin on his back. Jacob screams in pain, desperately trying to scramble away from them.

He can't move.

His legs are pinned by flaming rubble, the wooden table keeping the building from collapsing on him entirely set alight by Roth's final act. Jacob is alive, but he's burning alive and the air is thin. He's being baked in this building. In the monument to all his mistakes. He never should have listened to Roth. He never should have responded to that letter.

Jacob doesn't know if he should scream or cry.

So his body settles for laughter.

It's ironic, isn't it? He's going to die in the same building as the man he killed. He's going to die in the same building that he first met that man, in the building he continued to meet Roth in. He's going to die moments after Maxwell. All because he didn't want to play these games anymore. He should have left well enough alone. He should have decided not to come to the performance. He should have seen the invitation as the threat it was - not as a challenge to take Roth out before he could harm any more innocents.

Ash coats his lungs.

He can't feel his arm anymore.

He remembers is aching, remembers the searing heat that scorched him as he fled. His hidden blade had been boiling his skin, hadn't it? He can't feel it anymore, can't move his arm to even check. He laughs more at this. Is he already dead? Is that why there's no more pain - not the coals on his back or the iron on his skin? Has he already died, and his soul just not realised it yet? Did he die already, and this is hell, the punishment for his sins? He would have thought it would be more painful.

Tears slip from his eyes, clearing a track down his soot covered face. The air is thin.

Jacob's tired.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Slow Burn

CW: Vampire whump, mild gore (depends how vivid your imagination), burning alive, cruel whumper, impaled, broken bones, ambiguous ending

Hazy light diffused by sheer curtains catches on the dust-filled air of the warm, stuffy room. Once the bedroom of a stately home, now the gate is rusted and the wallpaper crumbles.

Decades have passed since the home's owner disappeared without a trace - or so people thought. In reality he had been there all along, hiding in the shadows whenever someone came to investigate. Unseen, unheard, and eventually...forgotten.

It was by chance that a vampire hunter happened upon the place, seeking shelter from the downpour outside. Then it was only a matter of time before he found the creature. Weakened after days of rain prevented him from hunting, the vampire doesn't stand a chance. With resignation and, perhaps, relief, he leans back against the wall and bares his chest willingly for the stake.

With three swift strikes of a mallet the wooden spike plunges deeper into his chest - tearing through flesh and muscle, shattering his sternum on its way in and two vertebrae on its way out.

Missing his heart.

No merciful darkness follows. The hunter is long gone but his victim remains, parched and half-conscious but alive, rasping and groaning while his skin sizzles.

It is just after noon, and the window faces west. Hours remain before sunset. Hours to spend burning and blistering, withering away in agony. Even if he had the strength to move the stake keeps him pinned to the wall. Unable to stand anymore, his weight sags around it, his limbs and head limp and heavy.

Downstairs a door slams. Floorboards creak.

The vampire, lost in his own suffering, can't begin to think of who it could be, but some part of him knows this:

He is no longer dying alone.

----

Part 2 ->

[tobisoundx3]

ITS 33°C OUTSIDE IM DYING HELP ME