#tw bodily harm

[tazmiilly]

[kandidandi]

Ok so. Moon's claws yes. He. Sitting in their quiet hide place. Methodically, painfully slowly abrading his claws against the concrete floor. Slowly, slowly, so no one will hear the screeching. But when the claws are gone he just keeps going. Sun is screaming at him to just please please please stop you're hurting us. But he doesn't even hear him anymore, just scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape...

i xitsen i love this idea anyways

[multiversal-pudding]

ep 6 spoilers-

In the cannibal Alice scene, it’s implied Uzi bit off the uppermost segment of Alice’s index finger- we see that’s the joint she fiddles with and the part she replaces

After replacing it, Alice then goes and cuts the exact same finger at the exact same joint off Uzi with the boltcutters, actively pausing so Uzi can see what she’s doing before doing it

Alice wasn’t doing that for oil (mostly), she did that because she was being petty about Uzi biting her-

[cdarkheartzero]

Reupload

Tw- Blood, Guts, Gore, Injury, Bodily Harm

I know I have been AWFUL about uploads these days. I wanna get better. There has been just…. So damn much happening.

BUT-! I want to repost some of my old favorite pieces. Some new ones. I have a Mer-May piece to share. Imma just plop them here and there.

See you guys very soon! Thanks for your patience!

[kronoose]

no need to say goodbye part 2

TW past child death cannibalism religion bodily mutilation loss of bodily autonomy 

Arthur shuddered at the noise he takes a few moments to recompose himself glad he couldn't see “can you call off the other bugs “ 

“A grin has spread across his face he is making his way towards the barricade”

“May I have a hand moving this barricade it seems this arm doesn't quite work right “

Arthur moves over to help move the barricade 

“he is watching us far too close for comfort“ 

Arthur nods slightly as he starts to move the furniture grunting with effort wincing slightly as something shifted wrong under the strain of effort and exhaustion

“Are you alright favored”

“Fine os- scratch “he said with slightly more bite then intended 

“He has tilted his head slightly like a curious dog you've almost move enough for him to slip through”

Arthur chuckled softly “that should be good enough”he raised a fist to his mouth to cover a yawn that escaped 

“He's moved to the opening you've cleared”

Scratch stepped through the door closing it behind himself leaving it open just a crack, as if leaving the invitation open for Arthur to follow an invite that was left unanswered as Arthur collapsed into a chair.

“I don't think I can drive but I also don't know if Oscar can drive ”

A deep laugh escaped from John “scratch has been trapped for 30 years I doubt he would be able to drive anyways “

Arthur laughed softly “probably not”his head jolts up as a series of thuds followed by sickening squelching 

“🎶a hunting I shall a hunting I shall go my favorite has ask me so a hunting I shall go🎶” an eerie mixture of Oscar and scratch’s voice floats through the cracks of the door 

Arthur shuddered “i don't think he's sending them off the way I ”he trailed off as his head drops down 

“you’ve done good Arthur you can rest now” a soft smile graces John's face as he keeps an eye out for scratch glad he can't hear much when Arthur sleeps

Arthur opened his eyes and glanced around the familiar office. It took him a few moments to realize he could actually see “john?” he waited a few minutes, the lack of response unsettled him deeply 

“Who's John papa?”a small familiar voice asked 

Arthur quickly turned towards the source he recoiled at the sight of her blue tinged skin her hair still damp resting on her shoulders “a friend Faroe dear” he stuttered out 

“You ok?”a bit of water falls from her mouth as she spoke oh so softly looking up to Arthur 

“Yes I'm fine“ he looked around trying to take it all in trying to spot if anything else was wrong, when he looked back he did a double take as he watched the colour drain from her skin turning to stone “FAROE!?”

“you have failed Me dada” a far too old voice for the body it's coming from answered “and for that you shall pay when I get him back you will never wake from the hell I will put you through “ 

“What are you”he glared down at this being using his child’s image 

“I'm a being of fear that will make your time in the prison pits seem like a luxury vacation” a dark smile graced her lips “and there's nothing that petulant king or that blood soaked demon will be able to do about it”

Arthur scoffed “I'd like to see you try”

“Would you like a taste of what I'll do to you when I hunt you down in whatever realm you find yourself in” 

With that she waved a tiny hand and the scene changed to a church Oscar stood behind the Dias palm facing the sky as he spoke “Take and eat this is My body” he lifts his severed arm and bows his head to the arm he paused for a moment before setting it back on the golden plate he raised a crystalline goblet the red liquid sloshing lightly “Drink from it, all of you. This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” he bows his head to the goblet. He set it down and nods to the man standing off to the side. Arthur turned to look over the man he'd not payed any mind to as he was a bit lost in admiring how hot Oscar looked in the robes 

A large man with graying brown hair who moved to lift the goblet as Oscar continued with the blessing of the blood and body 

Oscar turns to look Arthur dead in the eyes as he digs his fingers into his dismembered arm ripping a decent chunk of flesh away with a sickening noise he moved the bit of meat in the gesture of the cross over the goblet before dropping it in 

Arthur watched in horror finding he couldn't move or look away 

Oscar continued staring into his soul as he rips of a second piece repeating the sign of the cross before placing the bit of flesh in his mouth Oscar moves around the dais with his arm Arthur felt his legs moving as he started towards the dais he cups his hands with palms up 

“The body of Christ “ Oscar holds up a bit of his arm 

“Amen” Arthur respond without thinking allowing Oscar to place the bit of flesh in his mouth he chewed it as he went back to his original position he falls to his knees as he watched the not quite right patrons eat of the flesh every time the taste started to fade from mouth he was forced to return to accept this fucked up communion once more

It was the silence that woke Arthur “John?”he called out with a shakily there was a long pause 

“You're awake already?”the shock evident in the entity's voice “you should try and rest more it's only been an hour maybe two ”

“Where's Oscar i assumed he'd be back watching over us ”he shuddered slightly 

“he hasn't returned I heard him moving around a while ago “

Arthur nods “we should keep an eye on him who knows what we may have missed”he pushed himself out of the chair

“You're right but you still need sleep” john spoke firmly but with a gentleness 

Arthur said nothing as he made his way to the door 

“The bugs Arthur they're gone i can see marks of some kind i cant tell if they're claw marks or dents “

Arthur shuddered and moved his head slowly side a gesture that would seem like he was scanning his surroundings but hes blind so more accurate would be letting his demon scan the area “see him?”

“Not yet the hall looks less ominous in this lighting”

Arthur paused at the top of the stairs tilting his head listening for any movement from scratch

Both man and god are shocked at the smell of burning which prompted Arthur to take the stairs two at a time as they head towards the kitchen where they were greeted by the smell of burning worms

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

“I,” He raises a hand, barely touching the edge of the slightly mismatched part of your skull headcasing, “I like your patch here. Makes you look a little more like... you.”

He chuckled, a funny suppressed cackle, as he pulls his hand away, and you silently congratulate yourself on not shrinking away from his claws- hands- being so close to your face. The laugh is a little awkward, maybe forced, but you appreciate the effort.

And you know that he means that it makes you apart from the rest of the Staffbots. You weren’t meant to be memorable, so you used to look as carbon-copied as the others, but now you had the section of your headcasing welded on that was tinted a slightly different color. You knew he was right- it was, at least, one thing that could be used to pick you out of a crowd of other bots made of the same parts as you. You tried to look at him directly, and couldn’t quite manage it.

You wondered, if you had a voice with which to speak, you would have told him that he was the one that gave you that patch. Or... caused you to need it, maybe. 

As it was, you just nodded, giving a shuddery, static warble that went up and down quickly in cadence- an attempt at mimicking the sound a laugh would make- and moved your shoulders in time with the sound. He seemed pleased at the positive response, eyes brightening slightly. He looked a little like Sun like that, you thought.

You tried, tried so hard, to push away the looping memory file of Moon pinning you in a closet a lot like this one and pulling a handful of wires out of your shoulder so your arm hung limp and useless, with the sound of his laughter repeated and repeated and repeated like a broken record skipping on the worst part of a song as a backdrop to the clearest of retained experiences.

You knew it wouldn’t work.

[DELETE FILE.]

[PERMISSIONS NOT GRANTED FOR THIS ACTION. ENTER COMMAND:]

[DELETE FILE]

[PERMISSIONS NOT GRANTED FOR...]

You tried anyway. 

He said something else, and laughed a little again. His laugh was different than how it was back then. You clung to that knowledge, nodding to whatever he had said. This boosted him again, and you focused on the parts of him that were different than the ones in your memory.

His laugh was different. So was his manner of speaking. Even the way that he moved had become less rigid and jerky, though now at times it seemed unsure. You watched one of his hands as he described something, as expressive and mobile as a humans. You tried to keep your focus on the him that was here, and not the one in your head.

Of course it wouldn’t be so easy, but...

[OVERWRITE FILE ?]

[UNRECOGNIZED COMMAND. TRY AGAIN]

[OVERWRITE FILE]

[UNRECOGNIZED COMMAND. TRY AGAIN]

You wanted to try anyway.

[spade-andthe-microwave]

PYXIS BACKSTORY

For those who know, I do have a Marvel OC named Pyxis, and there is in fact an RP account for them. Finally got around to writing their backstory, and in classic Spade and the Microwave fashion, it is pure angst and pain. TW: Blood, Gore, Religious Trauma, Torture, Bodily Harm, mentions of burning alive

“- which is why God of Purity, God of Serenity, and God of Equality are who we become. One within the three. With the exception of the twelve.” The “teacher” droned on. Every word pronounced in the same tone. Each of the nameless others all nodded in unity, brown eyes glossed over as each of them absorbed the information. “The twelve are those who do not stand for peace, for unity, for equality, or for purity. There is no peace, there is no equality, there is no unity, and there is no purity if one is not the all and all are not the one. To be different is to be the twelve. To express an identity is to be chaos. To express is to be impure.” Each of them nodded their head again, brown bobbed hair shifting as heads nodded on even shoulders. “Dismissed.” Each body adorned in silver and white rose at the same time, each nameless face blank as they filed out of the room. Each hall was the same white and silver. There was no color, there was no variation. Except for the twelve. Twelve red tapestries with silver thread embroidered into the tapestries forming a number. And beneath the tapestries, a single spear made out of bone, long silver rope tied to the end of the spears. Above the twelve were the three. God of Purity, God of Equality, God of Serenity. And between the twelve and the three was a spot left empty. It had always been empty. Nothing could be missed if it was never there, right? A single nameless figure stopped, straying from the path of the others. Blank brown eyes staring at the empty space like it was an itch.

Against the figure’s cold skin, there was suddenly warmth. They raised a hand, liquid rolling into their palm as it pooled, tears continuing to roll. They were not granted the mercy of unity, and soon became subjected to individuality. Another figure approached and spoke nothing as the expressful one was dragged away. “You have fallen. Such a waste. Such a young one, our thirteenth. Prepare a tapestry, prepare the spears.” Another spoke, looking down at the thirteenth, the expressful one. The thirteenth, the expressful one, turned to the other figure, staring up with new found horror. “Birth-giver. I am not the thirteenth. I can be useful, I can be kept around. I will not express.” The thirteenth, the expressful one pleaded. “Mother, please.” The figure said did nothing, staring down at the thirteenth, the expressful one. “You did not need to be useful. You needed to be us. You are the thirteenth.” The figure spoke plain as day, had day and night been a thing to them. The thirteenth could plead no longer, being dragged away once again, their steps stumbling down the hall as the others walked with grace as though they were floating. The thirteenth was soon stripped bare in the presence of another twelve, each holding the spears of the twelve. The expressful one was laid upon the ground, a pure white tapestry laid beneath them. GOING PAST THIS POINT WILL BE GORE, TORTURE, A LOT OF BLOOD, DID I MENTION GORE AND TORTURE? AND EVEN WORSE RELIGIOUS GUILT! BE WARNED

The first two spears pierced through the thirteenth, one through each wrist. Before the thirteenth could scream, a third was pierced through their throat. The thirteenth remained alive and awake, crimson blood staining the tapestry beneath them, but it was darker than the twelve before. The fourth and fifth spear were pierced through, one through each elbow, but the thirteenth could not scream, blood continuing to run a deep crimson. The sixth and seventh were pierced through the thirteenth’s shoulders, pinning their arms down entirely. But the thirteenth could not plead, could not scream, could not cry. The eight pierced through their stomach, ensuring they could not rise back up. “Before your blasphemy can spread to others. You will have no legs to stand upon, you will be given no ground to support you.” One of the Three spoke. God of Purity. The other two of the Three approached. Equality and Serenity were anything but. Each holding a crude saw, kneeling down next to the thirteenth. The thirteenth could not scream, could not plead, and soon could no longer stand as their legs were sawed off and the bones removed to form a new spear. Crimson continued to stain the tapestry beneath them, the thirteenth silently crying to heavens that would never answer, pleading to the Three that would ignore their begs. The ninth and tenth spear pierced through their ribs, breaking skin as it impaled through the thirteenth’s lungs. Breathless gasps came from the thirteenth as blood continued to run down the tapestry, leaving no white beneath them, body bare except for the bone spears pierced through skin from the twelve before the thirteenth. The eleventh and the twelfth soon came, one through the heart and one through the forehead. But the thirteenth remained awake and aware of the pain, more than they’d ever felt their whole life. How long had they been alive? Were they alive?

“Cast the thirteenth into the sun. Collect the silver blood to dye new string.” God of Purity spoke in that same cold tone. The thirteenth was dragged from the ground, the once white tapestry now stained a dark crimson, darker than any of them had seen. The thirteenth then felt a warmth… and then a heat. The ropes attached to the spears now strung tight, crimson blood funneling upwards as they worked like tubes. The Three stood and waited, watching as the thirteenth never quite burnt up. The Three tilted their heads, watching the blood crawl upwards. Gold dripped into the jars and stained the threads, the machines clicking as the gold dyed threads were embroidered into the dark crimson. God of Purity spoke once again. “The thirteenth, yet also the Fourth… give them a name, they cannot remain here.” God of Equality spoke next. “God of Emotion.” God of Serenity followed in their words. “God of Impurity.” God of Purity spoke yet again. “Pyxis. God of Emotion, God of Impurity. The Thirteenth yet the Fourth. Embroider these names, and the scene. Hang the tapestry and fetch their time. Then open the port and throw them out with their name and their time.” And so it came to be. Pyxis, God of Emotion, God of Impurity, the Thirteenth yet the Fourth. Cast out into the cold vastness of space, spinning with no direction as the last thing they saw before they closed their eyes was a bright sun and the number 98.

And when they woke once again, the clock showed an additional 23, and the world around them was bright and colorful. “Oh, you’ve woken up. Was scared that plane crash would’ve taken ya out, kid.” An elderly man spoke up, smiling a bit and ruffling the top of Pyxis’ head. “Hey, hello. Welcome ta Earth. You got a name?” Pyxis turned to the man, eyes bright as they stared at the messenger bag slung from his shoulders and a bright blue shirt brushing against their skin. They opened their mouth and found they could speak this foreign tongue with ease. “Pyxis… My name is Pyxis.”

[jacksepticeye-simp]

Welcome Home (Darkiplier x reader) Part 5- A date gone Dark

(TWs: Mentions of drugging,Manipulation, Forced kiss, Yandere behaviour if you squint. Dead dove do not eat I think?)

You entered your room and sat down on the floor, slamming the door behind you. You were beyond upset at Mark, he’d been cancelling out on your get togethers for years now but the moment you did? Suddenly it was wrong.

Mark was allowed to push you aside and replace you as much as he wanted. Merely thinking about it caused you to clench your fists incredibly hard. But no more, no longer were you going to deal with that bullshit. Damien would never do such a thing to y- Wait, why are you thinking about Damien? Your argument with Mark had nothing to do with him. Maybe Mark was right. Going on this date might be a bad ide- Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through your head, followed by a piercing ringing in your ears that made you squeeze your eyes shut.. You groaned and held your head in pain, stretching out your legs. You blinked once it stopped, feeling lightheaded. What were you thinking about?

Oh yes, Damien. You felt like you could go on for hours about how sweet he’s been to you. “You deserve somebody who won’t take you for granted..Somebody who could give you the world..” He’d told you. You didn’t want to think about Damien too much, but he just kept invading your mind, taking hold of it with his sweet words or his smooth voice. 

Your foot suddenly made contact with something, a deck of tarot cards. It piqued your curiosity so you picked it up and shuffled the deck before spreading it out. You picked up the first card, turning it over to reveal the seven of swords.

Deception.

You shakily place it down before picking up your second tarot.

The Devil.

The creature in the illustration looming over a chained subordinate kneeling to him. The room felt colder and the strange scar on your wrist started to burn again.

With a shaky hand you picked up your final tarot.

The moon.

Something was lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right time to pounce.

The pain jolted through your body again, and in a moments notice you've suddenly found yourself fully dressed for your date. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling of apprehension before meeting Damien. You couldn’t back out on him now. It’d be rude. What was the worst that could happen anyway? 

You entered the restaurant with Damien, taking in its magnificent glamour. You’d only really seen places like this in your dreams or just passing by. Damien pulled out a chair for you and smiled gentlemanly at you while you sat down. His charming demeanor made you melt inside while making you uncomfortable at the same time.

Damien sat in front of you, smiling charmingly while he poured wine for the 2 of you. You smiled at him. “I’m so glad I chose to come out here with you. It really takes my mind off the whole situation I had with Mark.” You said, taking a sip of the wine. It tasted odd and much more..bitter than it should be. You took another sip to confirm you weren’t imagining it. Damien smiled at you. “Of course. Anything for you. I could take you to the places you want to go..” Suddenly, your vision started to blur and you felt drowsy.

Your head started to hurt.

“I can especially take you to the places you don’t want to go..” Damiens grin turned sinister. You quickly shoved your hands into your pockets and made an attempt to call Mark with whatever remained of your strength. Damien stalked towards you. “There is nothing that you, Or he could ever do to stop me. You’re powerless now, little mouse..” He grabbed your chin forcefully and pulled you into a rough kiss. “Don’t worry, mon amour. You’ll never leave me again..” A quiet cry of panic escaped your lips before everything went dark.

[idontshitpostbuttheolympicpark]

[harbingerscry]

This is my submission for the 50-Word Fic Challenge hosted by @deadbranch . This is a dark piece that can be triggering so please do not read it you are bothered by bodily harm or suic!de.

Passion turned obsession 

made nails turn to daggers with punishing force

If only you weren’t wishing for your demise

“Come on luv, just a little bit more.”

Once pure sheets stained in blood drawn under heavy hand

'Please forgive me for my transgressions'

“Just a bit more until you’re forgiven.”

-

Aka: Yandere captor (any Cod man but I wrote it with Gaz in mind) punishes you for your failed suicide attempt.

[fictionkin-am-i-the-asshole]

AITAH for trying (and kinda succeding) to bite off someone's arm

For a little bit of context Quackity had been my partner for quite a while before this and was the only reason I even ended up on this island

So the QSMP prison was quite a stressful time and place due to trauma which lead me to be in a more animalistic state where I would easily pick a fight if me or someone I deeply cared about was messed with. This had already been tested by the guards more than once and often ended with me being sent to solitary confinement and guards being badly injured, to the point where people had learn to be patient with me and not touch Quackity. Yet one day Etoiles had decided that he was bored and wanted to fight and decided to punch Quackity to start a fight with him, to which I react by jumping Etoiles as revenge and ended up biting his arm and refusing to let go to the point where some guards had to try to separate us and only managed to do so with me ripping out a pretty decent chunk of Etoiles arm Ever since this happened the rest of the islanders seemed quite distant and somewhat cold with me

-QSMP oc fictive

[hauntsect]

⚔️ 👻 🖤 heh.

❥ ❝ why remember the moth? ❞

⚔️ CROSSED SWORDS — do you have any skills that you are absolutely grateful you have and that mean a lot to you? how do you usually use these skills? would they come in handy if someone you cared about was in trouble?

"Indeed! Being able to conduct surgery, mostly being able to efficiently use a scalpel. It's one of the earlier things I got to learn, I've been using it for a while now, too. I use it a lot in my laboratory... So many of my projects require some kind of exposure, extirpation, the works. ...If someone I cared for were to be in danger and I had a scalpel in hand, per usual, yes... it would definitely come in handy. I wouldn't let anyone touch them, but I cannot guarantee that their components will not touch my loved ones accidentally... Ah, maybe I need a more practical approach."

👻 GHOST — is there someone or something that you feel is missing from your life? do you know if there's any way to find it/them?

"Yes, there is... So many things feel missing. Pieces of the puzzle I cannot truly see. I feel complete, I think of myself as complete and yet... There is a longing, my... being feels empty. A significant other, a soulmate, any other synonym they have for it... I've come to the conclusion that there is none for me, but I still look for it. I've been called stupid before, I believe it whenever I throw myself back into the thought of affection. I'm missing someone else, someone who understands me and I cannot find it, because it does not exist. There is no way to find it. On a lighter note, I am unsure if I am missing a protein, a part of my brain, something that could help me express emotion like my fellow companions and coworkers do. I was told children mimic what their surrounding humans do, I've done the same, but... it does not work for me. Something must be wrong, whether it is execution or a component inside me. Maybe, I should conduct a surgery on myself to find out!"

🖤 BLACK HEART — what would you say is the darkest thought you've ever experienced? what do you think caused you to have that thought? have you ever planned on or fantasized about acting on it?

"Darkest thought? Oh, do not be silly! I am not the type to have dark thoughts at all! Instead, I have gentle desires. You know the ones... Like when you look at a stranger you really like and you wonder: Wouldn't it be lovely to consume them – or a loved one – down to every minute detail? Rip off the ribcage hiding their heart from you just to watch it race as you take over them. Maybe with beastly thrusts against their holes, bites ripping off organs and skin, words of affirmation... To watch it react as you lay down the union of love... to be able to touch it right there, soothe it, alter it... Witness it. It's alive right there, it's all yours. If they asked you to eat them raw, would you be able to do it? Hyles, would you be able to please your loved one, bathing in their blood and drinking it? Basking on the taste of their body, bile and mucus. Would you savor it... or would you run away? Of course I fantasize about it... I fantasize about it so much, every single day, at every hour, every minute, with every twinkle of the dead stars above and the ones to come later. After all, it's love... All I think about is love."

[writingquestionsanswered]

Would it be a major turn off if a character, in a world where almost everyone has magic, only had a few chances before they have to cause like actual bodily harm in order to continue using it?

Some additional context I have to justify it are that 1. It's almost OP and I need some things to balance it out. Like, it's literally immortality that's kinda like save points, just done so it isn't completely videogame style (since that world isn't a video game) 2. Most people's powers do have side effects. However, to be fair, they're supposed to make sense (e.g. former protagonist has fire powers, so she's also heat resistant but is naturally very hot, so cold hurts more before it heats up and she can't touch things that need cold because she can't just switch off the heat, or one that's probably more cliche but they've got super strength and don't know how much force they're actually applying, gentle to them still is pretty rough a lot of the time, etc), and I'm not sure if having to actually injure yourself is a good side effect to near-immortality 3. She also has a sort of healing ability doubled with it, where no matter how awful the injury it heals in 24 hours (like from light paper cut to the loss of a limb, it is always 24 hours, it just made more sense to me that way), so as long as she stops the bleeding she'll be fine the next day But then I feel like it's a bit too much since 1. She would lose any motive to use it - she doesn't worry about death, so with the injury and pain it'd likely just be like adding 0+-1 when you're trying to get 2 (if that makes sense), 2. She's in single-digits still, so it'd be a child harming themself because they don't want to die, which while the tone is definitely supposed to get dark at some point I feel like that might just be a bit much both to read and to write, and 3. There's already another balance in place - if she dies, she'll appear back at the last "save" (considering it's inspired by video games that's the quickest way to describe it), and will lose any memory or development that happened in-between. It also only lasts ~a month so that she won't be completely immortal, she has to keep redoing it if she wants to be. So she'd physically and mentally revert back to up to a month ago, in the exact place she was no matter what happened there in-between, no matter where she's been or what she's learned in-between. Still debating whether or not there should be a way to regain the memories or not.

I'm also not sure if I actually want to give her another reason to hesitate to use it, or if it's just because I like letting characters suffer in my head, but the story isn't going to just be in my head so I want it to be actually fun instead of just agony lol. I don't want my story to be too affected by my sadism exclusively reserved for fictional characters.

Sorry it's long and probably awkward, and that it probably has way too much info when I just needed a little bit, I just want to write my story (and current protagonist) decently and not be TOO harsh on the characters. While the way I wrote probably made it kinda clear which way I'm thinking of going, I just wanted an outsider opinion that I trust before choosing one way or the other. Sorry if it's too uncomfortable or morbid or anything, idk where else to ask and I'm embarrassed to ask people I know irl (personal issues 💀)

Thank you for reading this whole ask, sorry again about how long it is!

Bodily Harm as Consequence of Magic Use

I feel like "bodily harm" is really broad and random consequence of using magic. So... after a few uses, if the character uses magic again, their arm or leg just randomly breaks? Or a huge gash opens up on their back? It doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

Typically, the consequences of magic are more logical:

-- Physical fatigue (lots of energy coursing through your body) -- Mental fatigue (extreme focus, quick thinking, mental stress) -- Loss of source (source of magic is limited so lost once used up) -- Harm to other (someone/something related is harmed by use)

You would typically choose one of these consequences (though physical and mental fatigue often go hand-in-hand), then the extent of the consequence is greater with the power/amount of magic used. In other words, a smaller spell has a smaller consequence. A bigger spell has a bigger consequence. A small spell would cause a little bit of physical exhaustion. A big spell would cause the person to pass out for a little while.

If you can find some way for the injuries to make sense, then you could still do that. But I would also add the consequence that injuries incurred via magic use don't heal in 24 hours. And while injured, no magic can be used. That way there's an actual cost to using magic too often. It's not just a superficial cost like an injury. They're putting themselves in the position of being powerless until the injury heals naturally.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[mximitator]

Update Character Reference Sheet!

(it's fancier and has colors, oooooo)

[r4t-g0d]

Me making a spidersona: yeah make it tear off its own limbs

Also me making a spidersona: yeah yh what it's canon event was Brexit

[paim0ntheclown]

No clown update today! Did do some sad clown doodles tho

Been experimenting with cheap oil pastels not sure how I feel about them

Tw! (Minor ?) blood /bodily harm