#tw ambush

[serickswrites]

It's meeeee, I am baaaaaaack!

And I have a request :D

Whumpee relaxing at home when some home invaders broke in, tied and gagged them, and threatened them to give up something valuable (an important item, money, whatever). Whumpee refuses them, to which they get tortured.

Then. Caretaker comes in to the scene, and gets grabbed too despite Whumpee's attempted warnings to run.

I look forward to seeing more of your writing :D

-- @whumperofworlds

Hello, my friend, @whumperofworlds! Sorry it took me ages to answer this. This is a series and is fully plotted for 5 parts, including this one. It will be published under the title 'The Strangers'.

Warnings: ambush, physical violence, head injury, restraints, gag, threat of torture, knife

Whumpee was exhausted. They wanted nothing more than to take a shower, crawl into bed, and sleep for a week. It had been a long work week and they were completely spent.

They dropped their keys as they went to open the door, groaning as they bent over to retrieve the fallen keys. Maybe they would have to soak in the tub instead of showering. A long soak with epsom salts, candles, and maybe even a drink. That sounded like the perfect way to start their evening.

"Fuck," they muttered as they remembered they had promised to host Caretaker for dinner later in the evening. They would have to text Caretaker to see if they could reschedule.

Whumpee shouldered open the door, pulling their phone out to text Caretaker. They slammed the door shut behind them. "Finally," a strange voice came from close to Whumpee's elbow. Whumpe froze. "You took a stupid amount of time to open the door, you know."

Whumpee turned slowly to see two masked strangers standing in the doorway to their kitchen. One cocked their head as they watched Whumpee while the other took a step towards Whumpee. Home invaders. Whumpee was being robbed. "What do you want?"

"Unlock your safe," the first stranger ordered, continuing to walk forward.

"No!" Whumpee said quickly. There wasn't much of value in the safe. More sentimental value than anything. But they didn't want the home invaders to take the contents either.

"Have it your way, then," the other stranger sneered and quickly grabbed Whumpee.

"Let me go!" Whumpee said as they pulled back and tried to get away.

"Knock it off!" The stranger said as they punched Whumpee in the cheek.

Whumpee stumbled and would have fallen if the stranger hadn't kept a grip on their arm. Their head swam as the other stranger came forward and took their other arm. The two of them dragged Whumpee to the kitchen. "This could have been avoided," the first stranger said as they dropped Whumpee's arm.

The second stranger threw Whumpee forward and Whumpee fell to their knees. They were unable to keep upright as the stranger kicked them in the back hard. They hissed with pain as they dropped. "Please, you can have anything else. Please. Just leave that."

The second stranger put a knee to Whumpee's spine and leaned their body weight on Whumpee as they grabbed Whumpee's wrists. Whumpee gasped with pain and struggled to breathe as the weight became heavier and heavier. "You don't have anything of value anywhere else. It's all in there. Open it and we won't have to hurt you."

Whumpee's heart was in their throat as they felt thick metal cuffs close around their wrists. They had to get out of here. "HELP!" They roared. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!" They screamed, hoping their neighbors heard them.

The first stranger knelt in front of Whumpee, grabbing Whumpee by the throat. "None of that. If you call for help, I will have Whumper Two here tie you to that chair and gag you. Then you're really in for a world of pain."

"Ooooo, pick that option. Please. That one sounds fun."

Whumpee glared at the first stranger. "Take anything you want. Everything. I won't tell anyone."

The first stranger cocked their head as they considered. "You know what I want, why won't you give it to me? Maybe I will have to hurt you anyway."

Whumpee had to get help now. They were going to hurt Whumpee no matter what. "HELP! HELP! HELP ME!"

Whumper Two cackled loudly as they punched Whumpee in the ribs. Whumpee doubled over, all the breath leaving their lungs as Whumper Two jumped on top of them. "Whumper One did warn you! And now I get my fun!" Whumper Two said gleefully as they continued to pummel Whumpee.

Whumper One glared at Whumpee as they shoved a rag in Whumpee's mouth. "I did warn you. Now I'm going to let them do whatever they want to you unless you tell me what I want."

Whumpee tried to speak around the rag, but couldn't. They growled their frustration. "What's that? Cat got your tongue? My turn!" Whumper Two said as they dragged Whumpee to the chair. They quickly tied Whumpee to the chair and pulled a long, sharp knife from their belt. "This is going to be so much fun."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[voltaical-art]

anytime I think about Wyll's back scars I go a little crazy

[cosmiccookiekid]

tw: loud audio

Rush is definitely the reason babies cry on airplanes

[riddlemearose]

Phoning a Friend

Warriors watches the two Champions blearily, forcing his eyes to stay focused on them. He knows one is the Shadow but he can’t let himself entertain the possibilities of who the other one is. For now, he has to think of it nothing more than another potential enemy.

The one with the odd spear that gleams gold, its green gem ornaments clinking softly against the shaft as he twirls it, keeps himself between Warriors and the twisted Champion. The golden spear spins and spins, batting away a sickening dark blade every time the bloodstained, withered Champion tries to break through his guard.

Watching the spinning spear is actually making Warriors feel nauseous. Well, he mentally amends that to ‘more nauseous’, glancing down at the blood spreading across his tunic.

And this weird noise, whatever it is, isn’t helping! There’s something heavy weighing the clearing down, pressing into Warriors’ skin.

All he can hear is this pulsing loud tick tick tick in his ears, accompanied by an odd warping sensation in his limbs.

It’s magic, he knows that much, but he’s never felt it before and has no idea which Champion it may be coming from, if it even is either of them casting the spell.

He turns his head to spit out a mouthful of blood and it feels like the movement takes an eternity to complete.

So either his blood loss is more severe than he thought, or there’s something else going on.

The spear-wielding Champion darts backwards, his grip along the spear finally shifting into a proper stance, grinning wildly.

Ha, Warriors is hilarious.

A large shining gem sitting at the dip of the first Champion's throat lights his face up from below, all deep shadows and softened edges. He’s breathing heavily, a slight tremble visible in his fingers as he readjusts his grip.

The other Champion across from them makes a sweeping gesture with its withered arm and something red and alive spurs into life, lunging forward. The shape twists, absorbing what remains of the rotted flesh, and large, monstrous fingers stretch into existence. They reach through the darkness for the first Champion, wicked under the moonlight.

The first Champion raises the spear slightly in response, his grin vanishing as it's smothered under a blank, smooth expression that Warriors refuses to recognise. The fingers, the vile magic, get closer to his face, closing the distance rapidly—

And Time shoots out of the bushes, the Biggoron sword catching the moonlight as it arcs through the air and severs the arm from withered Champion's body. The arm hits the ground and melts into a writhing pool of furious magic, thrashing around that Champion’s feet.

The ticking in Warriors’ ears stops so abruptly he's thrown off-kilter, reeling at the sudden silence left in its wake.

Time glances at him, a quick look filled with concern and worry, then shifts his gaze to the spear-wielding Champion — Wild, Warriors lets himself finally acknowledge.

Dozens of micro-expressions fly rapidly across Time's face before he finally decides on grim determination.

“That,” he says in an almost wobbly tone of voice, taking up stance next to Wild, “is loud.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told. Sorry about that.” Wild agrees, still focused on the withered copy of himself standing in front of them. He shoots Time a small grin, barely there but blindingly obvious if you know what to look for. “Worked though.”

Time lets out a quiet huff of laughter, his own small smile twitching across his face. He shifts, sword held tightly in both hands. "You're definitely not wrong about that, Wild. When we get back to camp, you'll have to tell me how you managed to make your magic even louder than it already was."

[autumnmobile12]

My Hero Academia AU: What Happened on Friday

An Ambush Simulation comic.

Fair warning, this is not one of my usual lighthearted ones. If you’ve read the fic, you’ll know the scene, but if you haven’t, be warned there is brief domestic violence and some blood. Nothing more serious than what's already in My Hero's canon.

Read right-to-left.

Ah, yes. The inciting moment for The Summer Camp Ambush Simulation.

Addressing the reason why things escalated so quickly, since the answer is not really given in the accompanying fic either, we need to look at Endeavor’s point of view. He’s invested twenty-three years into his goal of trying to complete his perfect successor. He has almost succeeded with Shouto, except the events of Hosu City nearly jeopardized that beyond repair. Shouto is his last chance. He can’t have another kid, it’s unlikely he can train a grandchild to succeed him. (You can’t tell me he didn’t consider that.) Shouto being charged with vigilantism and having that black mark could have ruined everything he’s worked so hard for.

And now Touya, his past failure and current problem child who has been charged repeatedly with vigilantism, is stepping between him and Shouto and mouthing off. He’s interfering, just like his mother did.

Old 'habits' die hard.

...

I thought about cutting the comic short with the brothers heading to the bathroom, but I thought it was important to also include Touya's toxic behavior. Yeah, he has PTSD, abandonment trauma, and who knows what else, but acting like this isn't healthy either.

In Chapter 2, Touya fixates on the fact that Endeavor hit him. He barely pays attention to the fact Shouto was there.

In Chapter 3, Shouto is the one whose pov provides the whole picture. He was being scolded and then Touya stood up for him. Touya has never stood up for him, nor does he really understand why he did it. During the confrontation, Endeavor hits Touya. Endeavor has never done that before. Two of Shouto's 'normals' got overturned in the span of two minutes. He's confused, but he still tries to do the right thing by his hostile sibling.

And rather than accept his help, Touya lashes out at him again once the shock wears off. As he is in canon, he is still spiteful, self-destructive, and a bit self-pitying and returning home after the coma in this AU did little to change that because the core issue is Endeavor being a bad parent.

...

And if there's any confusion as to why Shouto sees Rei briefly after Touya is knocked to the floor, this is a bit of dialogue from the fic it's from:

"I spent my entire childhood listening to my mother crying because you hurt her over and over.  I refuse to live through that again with my brother."

...

Fun fact: I did not draw these pages in order.

Through the whole bathroom scene, all I could think was, "Shouto...baby...gloves."

...

Further comics for this AU, click here.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee part 31

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, ambushed, a traitor in the midst, karma/revenge dealt, bleeding out, severed spinal cord

"I wonder why," Whumpee laughed bitterly. "But... I believe you. I can tell you're not lying." His eyes were dark and cruel. "...So I don't need you alive anymore."

Reed's eyes widened with terror. "Wait! D-Don't kill me, okay? We were on the same team! Even though I'm a traitor, don't you at least feel some attachment to your fellow soldier?" He sputtered, grasping for shreds of reason. As though that would spare him from Whumpee's wrath.

Whumpee shrugged impassively. "Not really," he answered simply. "But if you're so desperate for me not to kill you... I have a single question. It sounds like you would rather have any punishment over death, right?"

Reed's eyes flickered with hope, frantic for a lifeline. "Yes!" he immediately blurted. "Anything!"

Whumpee grinned viciously, teeth bared, and flipped Reed over onto his stomach before pinning him down again.

"W-What are you doing?!" Reed stammered.

"...'Anything', like you said," he answered coldly. Then he dug his serrated blade into Reed's back right above his shoulder blades, making him shriek in agony. Whumpee shoved the sharp blade in between two vertebrae, severing the spinal cord and instantly paralyzing him from the neck down.

Reed went limp beneath him, gasping raggedly, and he casually grabbed one of his wrists now that he couldn't move anymore.

"Wait... what are..." Reed's croaking voice turned into a sharp inhale as Whumpee careful slit his skin with the tip of his blade, intentionally nicking the wrist artery in a short spray of blood -- not completely severing it.

"Apologies, but I'm an eye-for-an-eye kind of person," Whumpee rumbled darkly. "You killed some of this team. So death is the only fitting punishment."

"N-No..." Reed choked out, watching with his eyes as Whumpee set his limp arm back down, angling his wrist so it was perfectly visible to him, blood rhythmically pulsing out of it with every terrified heartbeat. He was going to be forced to watch himself bleed out all over the floor, paralyzed and unable to tie a tourniquet around the injury. Whumpee had made this punishment intentional and calculated, only nicking the artery to slow the death down a little, draw it out as long as possible.

(Before anyone notes it, yes, I know my injuries, and I KNOW that someone who is paralyzed from neck down usually can't even breathe on their own, let alone speak -- but that's no fun, is it? So I bent the medical rules a little for Reed because I knew it would make the perfect death scene, so just roll with it guys LOL 😂)

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

[phospolipid-bilayer]

Been rotating this scene in my head for a while now. Tfw the girl who just died right next to you and whose blood you are drenched in is standing upright. Looking at you. Walking toward you.

[shes-some-other-where]

“Nowhere to run, crook.”

Prompt: “Take me.”

Contains: betrayal, ambush, surrender, recapture, arrest, police/soldiers, physical violence, restraints

Her fiancé’s face. Not hers. That was what he saw when the cellar door opened.

A face full of triumph. Radiant with glee. Brimming with spite.

“Nowhere to run, crook.”

Furious shouts echoed outside.

Soldiers.

Her fiancé stood aside, and armed men poured in.

The fugitive—the prisoner—sank to his knees.

“Take me, then,” he said, resting his hands on his head. He wondered: would she ever know what had happened while she was away? Would she resent him for never saying goodbye?

“On the floor!” a soldier barked. Kicking him down. Shackling his wrists.

Just like that, it was over.

suggested reading order | MWM event masterlist

<<< previous | next >>>

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[idk-im-just-here-now]

Leo and no. 23?

I'm really praying I read the right number lol

WARNING FOR BLOOD, INJURY, VIOLENCE!

“Leo, what are you doing?”

The crackle of the communicator on Leo’s wrist buzzed unbelievably loudly in the quiet of the building, and the slider had half a mind to shut it off before someone heard him. Trying to get a hold of this stupid artifact was difficult, and Raph snapping at him every moment through the communicator made trying to be stealthy pretty hard.

“Relax, I got this!” Leo answered, making a familiar gesture with his hand as he moved through the dark. “I’ll be in and out, no problem!”

He scooted down another hallway when he felt the corner under his hand. This place was fairly straightforward - it wouldn’t be long before he got there.

“Leo, you need to start moving faster if you’re doing this.” Donnie’s voice crackled to life over the comm. “There’s-”

“Can it, I got this!”

Leo clicked the communicator off. That would get him in quite a bit of shit later, but for now he needed to move carefully so he didn’t trigger any traps.

The wall texture changed, and Leo squinted, trying to get any of his vision working. Another few step’s, and he’d be there.

Leo let out a small sigh of relief-

Sharp pain jabbed through his heel, and he didn’t have time to spin around or draw his sword or do anything before something slammed into his back and forced him to the ground.

Leo yelped and rolled away, the sound of tearing fabric reaching his ears as he moved. His attacker dropped silently to the floor as he twisted away. His hand reached for the odachi on his back-

His hand closed around empty air.

Leo’s eyes widened, but had no time to get any kind of joke or banter in before another sharp pang sliced cleanly through his arm.

The attacker grabbed him, fingers digging into the open wound, and Leo shrieked as he was dragged up by the hand. He could feel skin and scales tearing as he was lifted back to his feet.

Another sharp stab hit his face, much too close to his eye for his liking.

A split second decision had the attacker’s arm in his mouth, and he bit down hard. The taste of metal seeped between his teeth, but the stranger made no sound, instead cutting his arm again.

He clenched his jaw, the bite digging in past skin and into muscle. Whoever this was was not going to have a good trip to the ER, or at least he hoped they didn’t.

They let go of the cut on his arm, the warm trickle oozing down his hand, but Leo was grabbed again, this time by the front of his plastron.

He kicked out, his foot hitting something that might have been their face, something else that maybe was their hip. The slider reached for his odachi again, but remembered it was gone a split second too late when his hands closed around air again.

A hand bashed his harm backward, jerking it much further back that it was supposed to go. With a hiss, Leo tried to snap at them again, but his teeth closed around empty air as well.

The hand holding his plastron raised him up, and Leo struggled. He was not going down to some jerk he couldn’t even see. The slider kept kicking, definitely hitting something, but receiving no confirmation that his attacks were doing anything to this creep.

The grip on his plastron tightened, and he started moving.

Leo realized a second too late what was happening.

He was thrown into the wall’s corner, way too forcefully for this to be any normal human. He felt his shell crack, the previously unbroken scutes breaking where he’d made contact with the corner.

Searing, white hot agony ripped through his back, and Leo screamed, the sound tearing his throat raw.

The attacker picked him up again and threw him against the corner again. More fractures danced across his shell, and the slider’s scream could have broken glass. Had it?

Leo thought he heard something shatter, but the world hurt too much for him to pay attention, his arm burned, the nerves felt life they were freezing and searing all at once, everything was chaos, why didn’t anything make sense-

A flash of red illuminated the corridor, and a large hand rushed past him, hitting the hidden attacker without mercy.

Even then, Leo’s world was swimming, his head hurt, why did everything-

He screamed again as pain flared through the cracks, even with the cold dripping through every part of him, and his mind started to drift. Nothing made sense except the bright flare of pain.

Leo slammed his eyes shut, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

[queeniethevampire]

((Halloween practice (open rp, mild arachnophobia potential warning))

Queenie glanced at someone outside her castle. “Hey. You. Wanna practice something before Halloween. Can ya help. And…. How are you with spider like objects?”

[remitiras]

Will we ever be able to just exist online without facing antisemitism at every mention of our culture?

(vent under the break)

There was a shitpost I commented on on Pinterest about salad being related to the Illuminati, I just corrected them that the star of David (called it a hexagram) is a different shape than the devil star.

And maybe there was part of the discussion that got deleted but suddenly I get a bunch of antisemitic and political comments and like dude tf I didn't even call it a Star of David??? I called it a hexagram for the exact purpose of not bringing Judaism into the discussion because it was unrelated??? Also why does every time something Jewish is mentioned people bring up i/p like it's not relevant to every single Jewish discussion??? Stop???

[licht-hex]

Stuff from an AU me and @aesthetiqchaii are working on that I made but didn’t post here, so now here it is

The first image is an illustration I did of an OC of mine named Samuel, the second is of an idea for a hallway layout that exists in the AU as a safe refuge that can only be accessed through a brush with death (“The Light and the Tunnel”), and the third is of a redesign I did of Ambush for the AU (they are now a weird fungal dog-horse-person thing)

Enjoy ^^

[whereserpentswalk]

Some people sat the grim reaper is cruel, others say he is kind, he is neither actually. The grim reaper is basically a creature, he may be intelligent but he has the mind of an ambush predator. If he's nice to the people he's taking its basically the equivalent of an orca playing with its food, same goes for if he chases you or plays chess with you or something. He doesn't think about things like good and evil, he just finds reaping souls fun and it nourishes him. Sometimes he'll chase someone and then let them go for fun. Some people are spared by him simply so that he can hunt more people later. He's not good or evil, he's part of nature, just a part of nature that hurts humans.

[constantvariations]

One of Hello Future Me's videos on revolution brought up an event from the Philippines back in the 80s: the dictator sent a battalion to crush a supposed revolt, only for the soldiers to be met with nuns and children offering food and water. The majority of the army defected as a result

I'm going to use rwby to try hammering this abstract concept into a coherent thought, but this incident got me thinking about how nonviolent protest is theater

If a similar event were to occur in rwby, for it to be successful, the protestors would have to be the cutesy faunus types: rabbits, cats, dogs, and the like because they're non-threatening. Attacking a sweet cat faunus would be akin to attacking a child or nun, paragons of innocence and virtue respectively. Only a monster could cut them down, and no one wants to be seen as a monster

A scorpion faunus, though? Their mere existence is a threat. That tail is dangerous, a weapon available at all times. Bull faunus have horns they can use to gouge out eyes and organs. Claim they attacked and most people would agree that killing them in self-defense is justified

Because nonviolent resistance relies on public perception, people who could possibly taint the image of the movement will get left in the dark no matter how important they are. Bayard Rustin was the one who taught Dr King about civil disobedience and was an organizer for many major events, but he opted to ride to events in the trunk of people's cars so his status as an openly gay man wouldn't harm the movement's image

There would be little wonder why the White Fang would be more popular with the "scarier" faunus. Public perception is already against them, so it's not going to change much for them if they join a violent organization, but this in turn will be seen as justification for discrimination against these types of faunus. A hellish self-perpetuating cycle

These faunus would also be far more likely to experience violence at a much younger age, akin to how black children are treated as adults even if they're literally six years old

The strategy behind nonviolent protest like the ones Dr King did is to show the world the mistreatment of the innocent, but when your existence is deemed a threat, there's little hope that you'll ever get enough support to change the system. This is why bigots constantly spew the "queer groomer" and black crime "statistics": by portraying someone's freedom as a danger to the innocent, any level of violence is justifiable defense. The police aren't attacking queers, black, and brown folk discriminately, they're attacking dangerous criminals, so it's okay!!1!

Theater can't save those already condemned and to try is wasted effort

[hostradio]

❝  ALASTOR!  GET  THE  FUCK  BACK  HERE,  YOU  SCRAWNY  BITCH  —  ! ❞

any  words  that  follow  are  lost  amid  a  cacophony  of  hurried  footsteps  and  frantic  breaths.  that's  fine;  he  doubts  he's  missing  anything  of  value.  the  sinner  has  more  important  things  to  worry  about,  for  that  matter.  he  winds  his  way  through  claustrophobic  alleys,  trying  frantically  to  recall  where  his  path  is  taking  him.  this  way,  that  way.  hell  is  still  so  new  —  jarringly  different  from  the  streets  he's  spent  his  past  life  memorizing  down  to  each  unremarkable  pebble.  (  he  could  navigate  them  in  even  the  dark,  free  of  fear.  an  apex  predator  on  the  hunt.  )  he's  unknowingly  grown  so  complacent  from  his  home  field  advantage  that  he's  scrambling  now  that  the  tables  are  turned.  his  pursuer  has  been  here  longer,  knows  the  terrain  better  —  and  he  would  DAMN  HIM  for  that  a  second  time  over  if  such  a  thing  were  possible.

…  no.  it's  fine.  alastor  is  nothing  if  not  accustomed  to  overcoming  the  odds  even  when  they  might  be  stacked  against  him.  he's  better  than  this  rotting  detritus;  he  needs  no  advantages.

spinning  on  his  heel,  one  foot  lashes  out  —  kicking  over  a  garbage  can  hard  enough  to  leave  a  dent  in  the  rusted  metal.  waste  skitters  down  the  opposite  end  of  the  alley.  bottles,  cans,  things  he  cares  not  to  think  about.  (  nor  has  the  time  to.  )  he's  been  operating  out  of  a  small,  unremarkable  room  with  walls  comprised  of  more  mold  than  wood.  temporary  lodgings  while  he  plans  his  next  move  —  only  temporary!  yet  alastor  knows  it  would  be  too  risky  to  return  while  he's  still  being  followed.  the  last  thing  he  needs  is  this  fool  interrupting  his  beauty  sleep.  turning  around,  vermillion  gaze  sweeps  about  his  surroundings.  where  to  go?  what  to  do?  time  is  limited  —  he  only  has  a  matter  of  seconds  before  his  pursuer  rounds  the  corner.  fortunately,  that's  all  the  sinner  needs;  inspiration  sparks  like  a  matchstick  dipped  in  oil  as  eyes  finally  settle  on  his  salvation.

❝  ALASTOR!  ❞  the  demon  again  bellows  his  name  like  a  broken  record. irritating.   ❝  you  don't  GET  to  run  away!  ❞   glass  crunches  under  his  shoes;  he  can  hear  his  approach  as  he  draws  closer  —  stomping  thoughtlessly  over  the  debris.  (  closer.  closer.  closer.  )  ❝  do  you  have  any  idea ...  how  LONG  i've  been  waiting  for  this?  do  you  have  any  idea  how  many  nights  i've  spent  laying  in  bed,  just  thinking  about  all  of  the  ways  i'm  going  to  BREAK  YOU  the  SECOND  your  ugly  mug  showed  up  here? ❞  a  breathy  chuckle.  (  closer.  closer.  closer.  )  ❝  i'll  make  you  regret  ever  meeting  that  stupid  broad!  ❞   just  a  little  more.  ❝  always  knew  you  were  a  freak.  i'll  bet  you  thought  she  was  gonna  FUCK  YOU  if  you  just  killed  her  HUSBAND  —  ! ❞

fortunately,  he  doesn't  have  the  chance  to  finish  that  thought;  alastor  lunges  lightning  quick  from  his  hiding  place  —  a  gap  between  two  buildings,  just  barely  wide  enough  for  someone  of  his  wiry  frame  to  slip  through.  he's  always  made  it  a  point  to  keep  a  small  pocketknife  hidden  on  his  person,  and  he's  carried  the  habit  over  in  death.  the  blade  plunges  deep  into  the  sinner's  neck.  he's  a  bull-like  demon;  alastor  envisions  bleeding  cattle  and  drags  it  across  his  neck  in  one  smooth  motion.  gore  spurts  from  the  wound,  warm  as  it  splatters  against  his  cheek.

experimentally,  his  tongue  darts  out  to  sample  the  blood.  hmm.

he  watches  as  the  sinner  collapses  to  his  knees,  gasping  and  wheezing  and  gurgling.  hands  scramble  furiously  to  stem  the  waterfall  of  red  dripping  from  his  throat.  it  sounds  as  if  he's  still  trying  to  form  words  —  a  rather  futile  effort,  all  things  considered.

❝  ...  ❞  seconds  pass.  alastor  stares,  confusion  gradually  building  in  the  back  of  his  skull.  amusing  as  the  sight  is,  there  is  something  terribly  wrong  here.  ❝  how  are  you ... ❞  he  starts  to  say.  a  wound  like  that  should  be  FATAL  —  why  isn't  he  dying?

and  suddenly,  his  world  explodes  with  pain.  damn.  the  bastard  had  an  accomplice  —  a  hulking,  canine  looking  demon  with  suitably  devilish  horns  in  place  of  ears.  alastor's  blood  stains  the  grayish  fur  of  his  knuckles  bright  red.  (  a  dog.  of  course.  to  add  to  the  humiliation  of  it  all.  )  did  he  kill  him  too?  probably  —  ugh,  he  hardly  recognizes  any  of  these  beasts.

the  force  of  the  blow  throws  him  against  an  alley  wall,  head  cracking  against  the  bricks.  a  glint  of  steel  catches  his  attention  —  and  it's  only  on  pure  instinct  that  alastor  lurches  away  with  barely  a  moment  to  spare.  the  blade  still  grazes  his  cheek.  it's  only  a  shallow  cut,  but  something  feels  HORRIBLY  wrong.  (  if  he  didn't  know  any  better,  he  would  suspect  it's  been  laced  with  poison.  )  his  skin  burns  at  the  point  of  contact  unlike  anything  he's  ever  felt  before,  as  if  fire  has  been  sent  racing  through  his  veins.  the  sinner  cups  the  lower  half  of  his  face,  gash  on  his  cheek  and  bloodied  nose  swiftly  coating  his  palm  in  slick  red.  with  a  touch  of  dismay,  he  notes  that  his  pocketknife  has  gone  missing  in  the  scuffle.  fuck.  fuck.

eyes  flick  up.  something  about  the  blade  his  attacker  holds  appears  strange.  too  bright,  too  unearthly,  too  wrong.  with  a  touch  of  sickening  dismay,  alastor  notes  how  the  sinner  he  thought  near  death  is  gradually  staggering  back  to  his  feet.  (  hooves?  )  oh,  this  IS  troublesome.

a  few  voices  shouting  close  by  manage  to  catch  them  all  by  surprise.  more?  just  how  many  of  them  are  there?  no  matter;  alastor  takes  advantage  of  the  distraction  to  fling  his  own  blood  directly  in  the  canine  sinner's  face.  a  direct  hit,  fortunately  —  though  it  wasn't  exactly  difficult  to  miss.  the  demon  howls  in  pain  and  shock  alike,  scrubbing  fiercely  at  his  eyes.  blinded,  if  only  for  the  moment.

and  alastor  runs  because  he  doesn't  know  what  else  to  do.  alastor  runs  (  shameful  as  it  is  )  because  he  doesn't  know  how  to  kill  something  that  seemingly  CAN'T  die  a  second  time.

hell  indeed.

[askfacultystaff]

Consuming all the air inside my lungs Ripping all the skin from off my bones

I'm prepared to sacrifice my life I would gladly do it twice

Reverse! 22-years old Boboiboy Gempa: Consuming all the air inside my lungs.

Reverse! 22-years old Boboiboy Gempa: Ripping all the skin from off my bones.

Reverse! 22-years old Boboiboy Gempa: I'm prepared to sacrifice my life!

Reverse! 22-years old Boboiboy Gempa: I would gladly do it twice...

*Reverse! 22-years old Boboiboy Gempa uses his power to make earth protector to protect his partners from the priest and his assistant, even pushing him so he is safe from getting injured*

Oh, please have mercy on me Take it easy on my heart Even though you don't mean to hurt me You keep tearing me apart

Ambush: ....... We'll be dead together.... Forever.....