#cw graphic

[l-just-want-to-see]

it’s the way Apollo doesn’t believe prophecies condemn their heroes and that they act more like guides. it’s the way all of ToA is about breaking out of cycles/narratives, such as Frank and Hazel breaking their curses. it’s the way Zeus believes prophecies do condemn their heroes. it’s the way Jason did believe he was meant to die, for real, no way out. it’s the way he’s the only character to succumb to his narrative.

[teal-fiend]

Someone keeps a large bowl/jar full of tinies that they offer to guests. 

One day, a guest is over, they are offered a tiny from the bowl, which they eagerly accept. The host leaves the room for a while, busy with something. 

When they return they are surprised to see the guest Sitting with an empty bowl resting on their full stomach - Wincing uncomfortably, and complaining about a tummy ache.

The host is a little annoyed at their guest for being rude enough to eat all of their snacks at once; they were only supposed to take one, maybe two. But they let them take their time for their stomach to settle. The guest hiccupping and groaning, whining about how their stomach hurts. 

They can hear the belly slosh as the pred lies down on their side, the many bite-sized prey being jostled around in there. The host can see tiny imprints on their guest’s stomach now and again. The prey try in desperation to escape the giant prison, which is at capacity.

The guest asks if the host would give them a belly rub. The host agrees, to be polite. When they press down on the pred’s stomach, they can feel each tiny body under the skin. It’s a pulpy, almost crunchy texture, in the belly. It’s pretty gurgly too, the host hears a sloshing noise every time they press down. 

The increased surface area over many small prey, compared to one large prey, means that they are much easier and quicker to digest. It doesn’t take long at all.

Later the guest feels better. Their belly is still round but not wriggling so much. Much more energised, feeling smug, having enjoyed a free meal. They won’t be invited back any time soon.

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Kingfisher dethroned

more Bastille! cw for death and graphic art

She emerged from the makeshift tent where she was kept for the duration of her surgery and slowly headed out to the spacious courtyard of Château de Tourbillon. Her step was still unsure from the lingering effects of opium and the left side of her face pulsed with intense pain, but she held her head high, for the courtyard was full. All of Switzerland's remaining combat dragons were kept here, in their rather pitiful numbers, and most were busy hurling insults at the French fighting force who were responding in kind. But one by one they were falling silent as they took notice of her.

Bastille observed them all with feigned curiosity, slowly turning her eye to this or that dragon. Some have lowered their eyes, but to her dismay, there were some who challenged her. Mostly those lightweight Swiss whelps, but what was more infuriating, a few of the French seemed to have forgotten their established hierarchy.

How dare they.

Still keeping her relaxed poise, she continued through the courtyard to the lower parts where most of the Swiss dragons were sat. She let her gaze slowly move from one to another, studying their unfamiliar faces and enjoying their growing antsiness. At last, one of them truly caught her interest. In the back on a slightly elevated platform there rested perhaps the oldest dragon she had ever seen. The Pêcheur-Couronné was more grey than blue and when his eyes met hers, she could see a gray film of blindness. The dragons closest to him raised themselves up on their haunches and shot her warning looks but remained still. Even the tallest of them only reached up to Bastille's shoulder.

This elderly dragon fascinated her. He seemed so well-fed and soft and the only marks on his scales were the result of age. Has he never seen battle?

"My, are you an old one," she trilled and squinted at the Pêcheur who immediately bristled.

"I beg your pardon?" Apparently unused to such crudeness, he pushed himself up on rheumatic feet, matching her height from his platform. Some of the other dragons joined in with annoyed huffs and grunts.

Bastille closed her eye. "Please forgive me. My head must not be quite clear yet. I would never wish to offend an honoured dragon such as yourself." To show her remorse for her transgression, she bowed to the elderly dragon.

Then she struck.

"Oh. I am so very sorry," she said, her tone unchanged as she slowly turned around to face the others in the clearing.

"He was on my blind side."

[artistsfuneral]

(this contains graphic description of violence and is absolutely skippable if that's not your thing!)

the VOTE and FANART are UNDER the cut because of this

✨🌿🌼✨

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.6

“Gentlemen,” he greeted the soldiers with a face-splitting grin and a courtly bow of his head. “It appears, there has been a misunderstanding.” The men stared at him, unmoving, tense. Behind them Aiden was still caught in his rage, not able to recognize Jaskier by his scent or sound anymore. “Why don't we all just sit down and talk about this like civilized people? I'm sure we can find some common ground.”

The bard's smile never wavering, he took a step forward only for the five soldiers to draw their swords at him. Steel for humans, Geralt's voice echoed in his thoughts as if any of that mattered. Silver had never stopped Jaskier before. Holding his hands up in what he knew was commonly understood as a surrendering gesture, he cocked his head to the side, watching as the archer reached behind his back for his bow. “How about some tea? I have this lovely mixture of zerrikanian spices that goes great with the apples you can buy around here. Oh, that reminds me! I wanted to keep some for apple cakes! Which would mean we can't use all of the tea, but surely some of you would prefer chamomile anyways, there's always one person that-”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Jaskier's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of his teeth. His initial smile had fallen off his lips as he stared at the man that had interrupted him with pure bewilderment. “Well that was incredibly rude. You are not getting any tea from me now.”

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” The same soldier as before yelled at him, spitting towards Jaskier's boots as he did so. The bard pulled a face in disgust.

“In the name of the crown of Redania, you are under arrest to be executed in the capitol!”

The forest was quiet around them, silent except for the wind in the trees and the metallic sound of the redanian soldiers readying themselves to arrest him.

The bard stared at them unblinking.

“Drop to your knees, this instance!” another soldier ordered harshly.

Jaskier's head fell back as he started to cackle loudly. The sound coming from deep inside his chest and forcing way through his throat like creature of its own.

“I don't think so, darling.”

Jaskier took a deep breath and exhaled it as the world slowed down around him.

They had hurt Aiden. Five soldiers in front of him, despicable creatures, faceless and worthless. Throats easily accessible from above. Exposed ankles. An unprotected back.

The Archer; almost too easy to kill.

A sixth trying to sneak up on him from behind. Useless.

His pack and lute slipped from his shoulders. The dull thumb cushioned by the forest floor. Aiden cried out in pain.

Jaskier inhaled and spun his body around, faster than any witcher ever could. His short sword was off his belt and in the man's eye socked before the soldier could even react. It popped with a horrible squelching sound that turned into the cracking of bones as the blade dove deeper and deeper into his skull. He was dead before his scream could form in his chest. Jaskier took hold of the man's throat and pulled his sword out, blood and chunky bits of soft tissue being forced out of his skull. He had been the one that made fun of the scar in Aiden's beautiful face. Now his body dropped to the ground lifelessly. Jaskier released his breath.

An arrow seared past his head and struck the bark of a tree not an arms length behind Jaskier. The archer's face lost all color as he watched the body of his fellow soldier hit the dirt floor. Freezing blue eyes fixated on their new target. Pulling a knife out of his blood splattered sleeves, Jaskier mourned the death of his favorite teal doublet and threw the barbed knife at the archer. He dropped to his knees like a puppet who's strings had been cut, cradling his stomach as a fearful scream broke from his lips. They always screamed in the end.

Running towards the next soldier, Jaskier couldn't help but to roll his eyes when the archer pulled the knife out, gutting himself in the progress.

The horses whinnied in panic, fighting against the reigns. Aiden snarled.

The soldier closest to him raised his arm high above his head, ready to strike down at the bard. Jaskier scoffed. Angling his own short sword upwards he closed the distance between himself and the other man and stabbed him right into the pit of his raised arm. The tip of his blade tore through flesh and bone until it hit the underside of the soldier's shoulder guard. Jaskier's opponent let out a primal howl as he dropped his sword to the slowly reddening forest floor. The bard ignored him, jerking his blade back out with brute force and kicking him to the side, eyes already focused on the next one.

Their swords met, loudly crashing against each other. The screeching sound of steel carving into steel seemed dull to Jaskier's ears. He inhaled and the world slowed down once more. He easily parried the next attack, taking hold of the man's elbow and twisting both of their bodies around, so they were chest to chest. As a result the redanian soldier that had tried to surprise Jaskier from behind found his sword stuck in his comrade's back. Jaskier slit the wounded's throat without hesitating and shoved his dying body towards the other soldier who easily crumbled under the unexpected weight. Mercilessly, the bard jumped on top of the fallen man's chest, breaking his rips and crushing his organs within seconds. This one had dislocated both of Aiden's shoulders for fun. Now he was choking on his own blood. He deserved worse.

Jaskier snarled and took hold of a stray sword, ramming it into a whimpering mess of human flesh on the ground. Two left. His face-splitting smile was back.

Aiden woke to the familiar taste of swallow in his mouth and a pounding headache. His first attempt to open his eyes failed miserably, the midday sun so bright it hurt enough to make him hiss out loud. It still hurt like a bitch the second time, but Aiden was now prepared for it and could work through the awful sensation, thinning his pupils through sheer will.

He found himself lying on the floor, free of chains and rope and with his wounds slowly mending themselves together thanks to the potion. The bard was kneeling right next to him and when he noticed that the Cat had woken up, his cornflower blue eyes softened with relief. During the last month Aiden had been in this exact same situation often enough that he could call it familiar. And yet something in the back of his mind was gnawing at him like a feral dog. “Thank goodness, you're awake again. You honestly had me worried there for a moment! Didn't I explicitly told you not to get caught?” Jaskier scolded him lightheartedly as he helped him to sit up. Nothing about the bard's gentle scent or the typically playful behavior warned the witcher about what he was moments away from seeing.

Aiden's breath caught in his throat as he took in the fucking massacre around them.

The corpses of the redanian soldiers that had overpowered him a few hours earlier littered the floor, broken and mangled as if they'd been mauled by a full pack of werewolves. The stench of blood and death was overwhelming and yet, Jaskier was completely unharmed.

His hands and face were covered in drying blood, as well as his boots and the rest of his clothes, but the bard himself had not a single scratch on him as far as Aiden could tell. “I thought about searching through the camp, see if I can find anything worthwhile, but I wanted to be here for you when you wake up. I hate waking up alone, but the troop leader had a sword that could possibly replace your broken one and hopefully we can find some spare clothes and other useful stuff. If we take their horses with us we can carry a bit more,” Jaskier babbled happily on, completely oblivious to the witcher's inner turmoil. “Not like they need the horses anymore,” he laughed.

Aiden grabbed him by the wrist, finger nails digging into Jaskier's blood-caked skin.

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[hopefullystillliving]

You ever get lulled into a false sense of security during the first two thirds of a kid's movie that's good with a serious plot but mostly a pretty fun time, only to have the entire final third tear your heart out, chew it up and spit it out, crush it into even finer paste beneath its heel, and add the fine powder your ribs have been turned into by the sledgehammer it whammed you with as a seasoning?

Anyway Nimona was great, 10/10 would recommend, I was crying on and off for what probably totaled 20 minutes of tears.

[howtoliveasahumanbeing]

Mitsuyo lore drop!

Inspired by @findyourfuckingdignityplease

Warning for pretty graphic descriptions of violence

Their ability formed very young (around four years old) after a near death experience, their ability keeping them from bleeding out after a limb was nearly removed. After finding this out, their parents began testing that, cutting into their own child to see what could and couldn’t be fixed by their ability, Mitsuyo being completely aware of what was happening.

When they were five, a local lab asked their parents about them and their ability, and their parents gave them up without hesitation. It was much worse in the lab, since they had surgical equipment and didn’t just go skin level like their parents had. The scientists at the lab would half amputate limbs and see if their ability could heal it, as well as seeing if their body would function without certain organs, and they’d be fully conscious for all of these experiments. The scientists also wouldn’t feed them since whenever their stomach acid started dissolving their stomach, it would just heal.

Safe to say once they escaped the lab, they now think that they’re not worthy of being considered human anymore since they don’t even know what’s inside them or if what’s inside them is even their own, leading to them start hurting themself a lot to try and prove to themself whether or not they’re still human.

[yummychiknsoup]

hmm yeah... "just jokes" apparently.. ok brah

[skulldetergent]

being a COD artist is not for the weak, every time i want to look for HEALED scars or gunshot wound references google just shows me pictures of literal corpses that have been stabbed or shot

WHY

[m4ggotm0ld]

I read smut for the first time so here my reaction to some parts idk(all on the notes app btw)

the authors grammar was so bad istg☹️

it just cut to the smut so quickly so I was reading it just like :0

and then it became super funny after that

is it normal to find graphic smut funny

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

Hi sunsun. I'm tired, but I've got dumb idea, so if this doesn't make sense and it is illegible, I'll try to decipher later, luv u.

Imagine if the virus corrupting moon, corrupted his memory bank. So even if Perkeo "stole" his memories, there was still something left from the virus distorting him. It could bleed into Sun's memory, flashes of their Beloved Perkeo maimed and caked in blood. He'd have no idea what was wrong with him for thinking such things. For the dark thoughts of Perkeo getting hurt. For thinking about hurting his friend. He'd have no clue if it was him or moon in the memory. Their shared hands coated in the thick blood. Unable to differentiate He'd assume it's him. As Moon dominates Perkeos' crumpled form. Holding their struggling body and killing them slowly. Sun would be terrified that these thoughts flooded his brain. His mind endlessly shoving it in his face. Unable to turn it off, it becomes more frequent. And all he feels is shame and guilt about the visualization of Perkeo in such a state. He doesn't want his friend to be hurt, so why does he have twisted fantasies about it? Eventually, these thoughts would spill to when he sees the real Perkeo. Standing in front of him, seeming completely fine. Soon flashs of the imagery would replace Perkeos form. Standing slumped, bruised and beaten. Blood soaken and mangled. This would become more frequent, with sun becoming avoidant. In order to not see his best friend dying. At some point Perkeo would seek him out, trying to understand his sudden reclusiveness. And he'd just snap.

"Sun, are you here?" Perkeo whispers.

He is closing in on himself, trying to hide. To find comfort in this suffocating small supply room.

"Sunny, are you alright?!" Perkeo immediately rushes to their side. Oh what a mistake.

Sun's head raises as he catches their wrist, stopping them from grabbing him. His blank eyes seemingly lifeless, when his lack of irises was usually like a blinding lights full of passion only his soul possessed. His dead eyes meet Perkeos.

He sees a sobbing mess before him. Perkeos skin torn, clothes ragged. Skin peeled down to the bone, the blood gushing out of the open sores lining their body. Sobs rack their collapsing chest, head violently lolling on their neck. Lacerations don't even begin to describe the claw marks raking their body. Blood gurggles through their open mouth, as well as one of their eye sockets. Oh dear where was their eye?

...

"Sun!" Perkeo cries.

Through his mind, he heard a gutteral scream. A cry worthy of a battlefield. Watching as Perkeo collapses, trying to reach for him. So so hurt, yet distressed by him. Oh no, if only they knew of his horrid daydreams.

He pulls them in closer, holding them still. Trying to comfort the hurt, the hurt that had passed. The hurt Perkeo didn't know he saw, the hurt Sun carried.

He doesn't rock them back and forth, not wanting to aggravate the "wounds". He shush them. Not wanting to hear them choke through the blood, a gurgling babble unable to form words.

In reality, Perkea is sitting in his lap, held close. Protectively. Thsh go along with it. Letting sun work out his inner turmoil. Not wanting to push him.

"Oh pear, perky I am so so sorry!" It sounds like he's starting to sob.

Perkeo sits silently.

"I didn't want this to happen! This shouldn't have happened!"

What does that mean?

Perkeo asks this in a whisper, this registers in sun's receptors as a pained whine.

"All I could see was you hurt Perkeo! I don't want this! What is wrong with me?! Why why. I dont like seeing you like this, what happened? ...did I do this?"

His hysteric voice barely saying the last line.

Oh no. Oh No.

How could Perkeo have forgotten about sun? Sun was as much a part of this as Moon, was he affected by the virus? He has been here the whole time. And it seems he is hallucinating the memories Moon's lost. Oh no. Perkeo how could you have done this?! You took Moon's recollection, and now sun is paying the price. All because of your selfishness. Sun is hurt.

Sun has been hurting this whole time.

MIHEJWHWJWHWIEHEOWHIWWHIWWJWKJW CRYING SCREAMING SCRATCHING RUNNING

SUKI

SUKI MSBEUEHEIWHIW PLEASE IM

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH I WOULD GRAB YOU AND KISS EVERY SINGLE INCH OF YOUR FACE AND HUG YOU SO MUCH I'D TAKE YOU OFF THE GROUND AND SWIRL AROUJDB WITH YOU RIGHT NOW

NOT EVEN ALL THE RUNNING AROUND WOULD BE ENOUGH TO CALM DOWN THE EUPHORIC ENERGY BOOST THIS JUST GAVE ME

YOU'RE AMAZING AND THIS IS PERFECT PERFECT PERFECT PERFECT THERES NOT ENOUGH WORDS IN EITHER THE TWO LANGUAGES I KNOW TO DESCRIBE HOW GOOD THAT IS

I love Sun's distress at everything and how much it affects him the idea of their friend hurt and how gruesome it is and how Perkeo is trying so so hard to take care of everything but it still ends up being too much to do on their own

It was never their fault but they blame themselves for not doing enough, for not flawlessly protecting both Sun and Moon from the morbid reminder of actions that not their own but still made by their hands. They wanted to care the weight of it on their own buy against their best efforts they are still forces to share it.

Suki I'm kissing your brain and all the ideas you come up with I swear at this point you are just writing this au's fanfic for me

[kitchen-of-the-flesh-glutton]

"Gggha.. ugh.. I can't see, I can't see- where am I..??"

*Some.. silver colored humanoid-like toon stumbled in and- oh my that is literally the top of their head gone except for their eyes.. what the hell happened?? Also looks like some sort of attenna in the middle of their head that has a singular cymbal, seemingly dented from force being put into it.. how are they even alive??*

(If you know about Incredibox Sprunki.. then you know who it is..)

CW GRAPHIC

Like. Really. If you know what sprunki is you know what this guy looks like. you can just scroll past if you dont wanna see that

" wwhat the-"

Cosmo just stares for a long while, a bit concerned and probably even horrified. Like yeah he knows what he does himself of course but whatever twisted did that is.. wow. red blood too. thats new.

" .. gardenview. "

[michael-the-warrior]

Michael’s Mission

((Tw for graphic depictions of violence, heavy manipulation, gore, torture, severe angst, suicidal ideation, and religious themes after the cut.))

@nadia-nicole @crimsonknightly @morningstarscratch

((Part 1 of 5))

[loujestrous325]

cw horror/graphic content

peekaboo!

[ask-eyefestation-archived]

You can have my eyes. They fell out

"WHAT THE F-"

[descimatedpiggydreams]

oh wait sorry for the notifications but i HAVE to know what you think of the pig episode

*my eye twitches... or should I say, my eyes... my usually raging pulsing all consuming black holes of lightless fire exude light... RED LIGHT.*

*this is the point where you know youve fucked it. what were you even thinking?!?! bringing up that infront of me... fucking idiotic... its your funeral, and I will be decorating it...*

what did you just say to me?

*I croak out. but not in a croaker way. in my own special way. your bones shiver.*

I said... WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?!?!!?!??!?!?

*I pummel my massive fists into you until you are just a pile of goo beneath my beutifuol black stripper heels. I laugh at your corpse, but a single tear falls down into your mouth. its so fucking powerful that you come back form the fucking dead. you gasp and cough up blood and guts and watevr. I laugh maniacally. then suddenly I stop.*

listen, buckaroo... ill let you get off easy this time... but you ever, EVER mention that episode to me again, and I will bring you back a million times over just so I can crunch your bones into a powder so fine I can snort it.

Kapesh????

[isitme-2001]