#their concept is horror so tw for blood flashing and other creepy stuff

[conartisthaiji]

in honor of dreamcatcher’s comeback, odd eye, i’m rating dreamcatcher MV’s by whether or not they have swords in them! 

Chase Me: a stunning debut! unfortunately, no swords. 0/10

Goodnight: no swords, but they trap a man in the mirror, so bonus points for that. 1/10

Fly High: no swords, but there are knives, which are also sexy, so. 5/10 

You & I: no swords, but Dami has a cool cane thing, so bonus points!! 3/10 

What: unfortunately, a severe lack of swords. 0/10 

Piri: amazing, but could be made even better with swords. 0/10

Deja Vu: swords!! the sword even changes hands!! the sword is a major feature!! 12/10 

Scream: sword!! Not as prominent as Deja Vu but the sword is there!! 9/10

Boca: no swords, but someone does shoot things, so bonus points for that. 5/10

Odd Eye: amazing comeback but no swords :(. 0/10

bonus 

the dreamcatcher light stick: have u seen that thing? it could kill someone, easily. 10/10

[whimperwoods]

Vampire Labyrinth 2

All of the work I got done today might have been life stuff instead of work stuff, but I deserve to write this anyway!

Continuation of this post. This got long and is basically all whump but I promise part 4 will have a caretaker?? Also thank you for your nice comments, people who made nice comments!! I’m super excited about it!!

tw: forced nudity, tw: noncon touch, tw: creepy whumper, tw: intimate whumper, tw: bound, tw: blood, tw: dizziness/lightheadedness, tw: claws, tw: torture (kind of? I feel like torture implies a different goal than is actually at play here but whatever. It still is, just a little off to the left. He doesn’t really want her to suffer. He just wants blood and screaming.) (No straight-up sexual content, but nameless whumper vampire continues to be a big ‘ol handsy creep.)

tag list: @waywardwhump @justwhumpitwhumpitgood @insanitywishes

*****

Lianna took half-steps backward as far as the rope would allow her, and the vampire’s lips quirked upward into a nasty grin as he continued walking steadily forward, still slow, his eyes roving one more time over her naked body and then locking onto her own until she couldn’t look away.

He closed the distance and then took another step, so close she could feel his breath on her forehead. She pulled instinctively backward, tugging at the ropes, and they stung, rubbing again at her mildly chafed wrists. She remembered not wanting her wrists to bleed in the same vague way she remembered what she’d been trying to accomplish in a dream for those first few minutes she was awake.

Her sour stomach twinged, and her head still felt clogged. She sniffled quietly and he chuckled, his voice dark and rumbling as he stepped forward again so far that their bodies pressed together, the fine cloth of his shirt surprisingly soft against her bare skin.

She pulled backward again, onto her tiptoes, her lungs gasping desperately for air, and wrenched at the ropes hard enough that they finally rubbed their way into her skin, tearing into her. After a brief flash of pain, she felt a hint of wetness there, soaking into the ropes. Blood. She was bleeding.

He raised his head and smelled the air, then reached a hand up and ran it along her arm, starting just above her armpit and dragging his grip slowly upward, over her upper arm, her elbow, her forearm. Her eyes started leaking tears again, but he ignored them, his eyes locked on her arm, and on his own hand wrapped almost completely around it.

As he reached her wrist, his grip relaxed, and he trailed just his fingers up to the edge of the rope, prodding at the binding itself. Suddenly, he grabbed her arm and pulled, hard, harder than she could have without completely hanging her weight on her bindings, and the rope dug in further. She gave a sharp, hoarse shout of surprise, and he responded only by twisting her forearm sharply, spinning her wrist inside its ropes as his other hand seized her other forearm and gave another hard tug.

She was bleeding in earnest now, a thin stream running from both wrists as the vampire pulled and twisted viciously at them. His grip was crushing and her chafed wrists stung fiercely, the rough surface layering scratch on scratch on scratch until the feeling went from uncomfortable surprise to throbbing pain. She breathed shallowly and raggedly, fear and pain and his nearness compressing her chest until her head began to feel light.

He lifted his head and sniffed deeply. “Getting ahead of me, aren’t you, pet? It’s like you know what’s coming.” His fingers ran lightly, almost tenderly up the sensitive insides of her wrists and pressed against the torn skin at the bottom of the ropes, coming away bloody. A hoarse, quiet noise groaned out from her throat, the only sound she could manage with so little air.

Then his eyes were locked back into hers. He smoothed the tears away from beneath her eyes with his thumbs and then smeared her own blood across the tops of her cheekbones instead. She flinched, squeaking in surprise, another choked noise as she struggled to breathe.

He was so close, and when their eyes met, she felt trapped, unable to look down or away. He spoke in a low growl, so quiet no one else could have heard even if they’d been there. “I already know you smell lovely, but we’ve got to make sure good old Enzo can smell you from a long way off.”

He took a half step back, but without the pressure of his body keeping her up on her toes, she found herself falling forward toward him, reclosing half the distance.

He chuckled again, making her shiver, and grabbed her by the hips. “Don’t tempt me, darling. This is a quick job.” He ran his hands up her sides, his palms pressing flat against her ribcage. “You know you’re going into the caves.” His hands found her breasts and squeezed once, then slid around to her back. He pulled her close against him and leaned down, burying his nose into the side of her neck and shoulder again. She shuddered, squeezing her eyes closed, and tried not to sob this time while he held her tightly and sniffed hard at her skin.

“You’re a quiet one,” he said, lifting his head back up. “We’ll have to fix that. He’ll need to know you’re coming.”

He stepped back again, truly back this time, two or three whole steps, and she suddenly found herself able to breathe again, her panting breaths deepening into frightened gasps that filled her whole chest but did little to stop her from feeling lightheaded.

His gaze still made her feel like her face might catch fire with embarrassment. He was studying her again, and she could feel it even with her eyes closed.

She didn’t hear him move closer, but all of a sudden, his hand was on her shoulder, and her eyes opened in surprise.

He wasn’t quite so close this time, but his eyes were locked into her own, and as soon as her eyes found his, she couldn’t close them again.

He reached up and stroked along the bottom of her jaw with his other hand. “You can scream for me, can’t you, sweetheart?”

All of a sudden, she didn’t know. Yesterday, she’d have said that she could scream. Yesterday, she’d been safe in her own little room, and screaming had been a theoretical concept at best.

Before she could answer, his claws dug into her shoulder and raked downward, carving through her flesh in one long, cruel swipe that left five bleeding scratches from shoulder to her hip.

To her own horror, she didn’t scream. She gasped in shock, her lungs trying desperately to fill, with a sick, ragged groaning noise inward.

He rubbed his bloody claws sideways across her face, leaving lines of blood behind. “I don’t think he heard that.”

His claws sliced into her again, starting between her collarbones and dragging downward, pressing forward to keep cutting as she instinctively tried to back away and scoring her open from chest to navel, these cuts slightly deeper than the last.

She tried to scream, but her throat was tight and her breath was still ragged and useless. The noises she choked out were low and strangled, louder this time, but turning into haggard retching in her throat instead of shooting upward into a scream.

He clicked his tongue at her, but his face didn’t look displeased.

“Please,” she panted, “Please, I can’t.”

He held his bloody hand up, away from her, the palm out as if to placate her, and his cruel smile widened. “Oh, I think you can. Give it another try for me, won’t you?”

She could feel a scream there. It was there, somewhere in her throat, but every time she drew breath to let it out, her throat closed up around it again, and the only thing she could manage was another mangled noise before her dry, desperate panic made her gag again, retching and then choking, only the ropes around her wrists keeping her upright as she coughed so hard she almost fell over.

Her head was still light, and her eyes teared up again as she looked, desperately, into his eyes and hoped he knew she was trying. She was trying.

The vampire stepped forward, and she flinched away, but he just clicked his tongue again and ordered her to calm down. He helped her straighten up, his hands gentle on her shoulder, and when he told her to breathe, his voice momentarily lost its menace. She found herself sobbing, relieved and confused and terrified, and too much of all of it. She was bleeding. She was bleeding.

He smoothed the tears away again, and then ran his hand gently through her hair, shushing her. “Come on now. Crying’s no good. Come on.”

She gasped, fighting through the tears until she could stop them, and then her breathing evened out for the first time since the last of her dress had fallen away from her.

“There,” he said, rubbing a hand gently across her unwounded shoulder, “There, see. Let’s try again.”

This time, the claws were a surprise again, shredding through her skin from shoulder to hip, but again, in spite of how hard she’d just tried, she found herself shouting instead of screaming, the loudest sound yet, but low-pitched and hoarse and nothing like the carrying scream she knew he wanted.

He clicked his tongue again, disapprovingly, and her head swam. Her whole face felt full of tears and snot, throbbing in time with the 15 long scratches bleeding down her front. She cried, dully and inattentively, and made herself keep breathing.

He started walking slowly around her, prowling in a wide circle.

She didn’t hear it when he abandoned the circle. She didn’t know he’d stopped and come closer until all ten of his claws dug hard into the top of her back, his full weight behind them, carving deeply into her flesh and dragging slowly downward, making her feel every inch on his way down her back.

This time, she screamed.