#cw implied violence

[orbital-inclination]

Narrow Escape! Nightmare and his gang are hot on their trail, oh no!

i originally sketched this out last September for Inktobertale. (for the bones shatter prompt) i felt like finishing it up today. Also playing around with lighting a bit. I have no idea what I’m doing! :) Ink sans @.comyet Dream @.joku US Sans @.p0pcornpr1nce

[sunbit]

the twins

[liauditore]

cw// implied character death, double life nonsense

because you are love itself.

[the-kr8tor]

Hello!! I hope that u r having a wonderful day/night!

I feel like suffering today so could I request reader comforting hobie after a canon event?

I need some more hurt/comfort in my life bc it’s one of my fav tropes even tho it’s sad 😭

🕊️anon

Hi, dovey!! Thank you for requesting! Prepare to be hurt/comforted 😂

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW implied violence, CW Injury, TW blood. Hurt/comfort.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Your hands are covered in crimson, iron fills your lungs as you scrub his hands in the basin. Legs aching from kneeling, tearful eyes staring at Hobie whilst he sits on the floor of your shared flat. His back lays flat on the wall. The same walls covered in the wallpaper you two chose for the place, all smiles and laughter filling the room— it's a stark contrast to the scene in front of you, his soft sobs wracking his battered body, wheezing from his bruised lungs. Yet he keeps his eyes open, red around the whites of his eyes, staring mindlessly at the ceiling he just dusted a few hours ago before it happened.

His entire suit is covered in blood, seeping through the fabric and into his skin. The same skin you brush against every morning, the same skin you love and adore. He thinks you wouldn't want to touch him again after seeing it marred by his blood and someone he failed to save. Their ichor drips on the carpeted floors, mixing into his own, staining the white material like blood on snow.

It's silent, you're silent, and he's afraid that it was almost you. Your blood almost spilled on him if he wasn't fast enough, if he chose the stranger rather than you.

Your face is unreadable, and he's terrified that he almost came home without seeing it ever again.

Your touch is soft against his split skin, and he's furious that green goblin made him choose, he feels he doesn't deserve the softness of your hands against his bloodstained ones.

Your breath hitches in your throat, dust dirtying your face, clothes torn from where goblin gripped you too tight, his mark left on your bicep; tiny pinpricks of dried blood from his sharp nails dot along your arm like grim stars.

And he's terrified of the other outcome where he didn't catch you in time.

“Hobie,” your hoarse voice cuts him like a knife, tone cracking at the simple utterance of his name, the steel twisting inside his gut at the screams you let out. “It'll be okay. We'll be okay.”

At your simple words, he wakes up, reaching over to you even when his wounds protest, even when his guilt screams at him to let you go.

You take him in your arms, kicking away the basin for more space, embracing him fully as he disappears into you. Hiding himself in the crook of your neck, body slotting perfectly against yours.

“‘m sorry,” your heart shatters at his apology. Hobie clings to you tighter, hands balling your shirt, refusing to let you go. His salty tears are gathering around your neck. But it's alright as yours drench his stained cheeks.

“It's okay.” You rock him in your arms, heavy kisses pressed on his temple, letting your love calm him. “Let it out, I'm here. I love you.”

Hobie hopes that one day you'll forgive him. Even though there's nothing to forgive while you cradle him in your arms.

[aluhnim]

My Voice

 An artist, looking for an answer to their struggles, visits a fortune teller. CW: implied assault

This is also available on Ko-Fi as a PDF! It is FREE / Pay-What-You-Want. https://ko-fi.com/s/ce204f2403

[softistdom]

tying a vibrator to them while i beat them so they associate pain with pleasure

[creepling]

imagine johnny just being so touchy feely & yearning for his s/o that he’s just all over them? def wouldn’t outright say he misses them while he’s literally smothering himself into their body 🎀

anon i am so sorry . . . i got dark with this. anytime i hear the word 'yearning' i can't help but get angsty. if johnny ever got into that state well... read to find out lmao. again, im sorry for the angst!! i can't help it!!

tags: gn!reader. angst. dark themes. implied violence. 500 words.

The plan has always been the same. You check in to the motel, enter the room and Johnny follows in after a few minutes. The secrecy of it benefitted the both of you, but you never expressed to each other how it did. There was a lot you didn’t talk about. Maybe it was best it stayed that way.

You were freshening up in the bathroom when you heard the familiar knock. Three simple thumps. You finished up and opened the door, minding not to rush. But Johnny was ahead of you, almost tackling you to the ground. He slammed the door behind him, and the sudden noise jolted you, but he squeezed you in his arms, keeping you in place.

“Johnny-” you fussed in confusion, “is everything okay?”

“Don’t talk,” he muttered. His face buried in your neck, hands roaming your body.

His hurried state prompted you to ask, “You’re not in trouble are you?”

“I said don’t talk,” it was like a growl, putting you in your place. You stood still, resting your hands on his shoulders, resigning to soothe his tense muscles. He smelled like sand dust and tarmac, out on the road for days, the sun catching his exposed skin that radiated a warmth on your own. You relaxed, feeling the stiffness of his body and accustoming to the firm hold he had on you. He let you read him in that moment, his hands firm on your sides. He inhaled heavily to catch your scent, a sigh in his exhale. It had a twinge of relief. He missed you deeply.

Johnny kissed your neck, meeting your gaze, his stare pouring in your travelling eyes. Your body bends under him as he kisses you. His lips deep within your own, beckoning your tongue to meet his. He backed you up towards the bed, laying you down slowly as his arms caressed your fall. You broke the kiss, shuffling further back into the covers, your eyes still searching him. For meaning on all of this. He was more . . . passionate than usual.

A wave of sadness filled Johnny’s core. He gazed at your features, the angles and curves of your body, landing finally on your eyes. He wanted to smile as his heart beat faster. He wanted to get down on one knee. He could see your adoration as it radiated from you, your arm outstretched to bring him into an embrace. You brought your lips to his ear, a smirk curled on your lips. You thought if you said it as quietly as possible, it cannot count as talking.

“Did you miss me?”

Johnny had one rule. Never fall in love. If he does, he has to deal with it. Forgetting you wasn’t enough. That’s why tonight will be the last night you spend with him. It is why Johnny came prepared. He checked the items in the truck before entering. Knife, rope, gag, gloves, body bag.

“Stop talking,” Johnny hissed. Yes, I missed you so much.

[an-albino-pinetree]

Warnings: Suggestive content, eye contact, Carnival jax being carnival jax, mild blood, implied kidnapping I guess kinda?

Minors and ageless bios dni!

There was public outcry over the lack of Carnival lately /j

[morganski-19]

Thumbs

Based on the song by Lucy Dacus cw: implied child abuse, implied violence

Eddie places the phone back on the receiver, not releasing his hand after the little click of the receiver turning off. There’s a far-off look in his eye, just gazing off into the distance at nothing. Mouth slightly agape, breathing deeply while standing otherwise perfectly still. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, walking softly to Eddie. 

“That was my dad. Said he was in town, wanted to meet.”

He reaches across to Eddie’s hand, peeling the fingers off of the phone one by one and holding them in his hand. “You don’t have to see him. You don’t owe him that.”

“I couldn’t say no,” Eddie says, a line of tears filling his fixed gaze. “It was like I was ten years old again.”

“I’ll go with you, so you’re not alone with him.”

A single tear falls down Eddie's cheek as he nods, breaking his rigid stance as he starts to crumble. Steve pulls him in close, holding his head close to his chest while he cries. Tears for his younger self full of fear and pain, and tears that he’ll have to go through it all again. 

When they enter the bar, there’s a man sitting at a table, waving with the smile of someone who thinks they’ve done nothing wrong. Eddie grips Steve’s hand and gives him a look. He knows that Eddie doesn’t want to do this, but knows that he can’t say no. Never could, not when he knew what his father’s capable of. 

They walk over and sit down, Eddie releasing his grip on Steve’s hand. The man before them calls over a waiter before even saying hello, ordering a rum and coke. The idea of drinking either of them now tainted with the bile the man emits. His presence is looming like a haze, sending chills down his spine and clouding his vision. With one word, Steve would strike, get them as far away from him, and never look back. But Eddie agreed to this, and maybe this will be the end of this. Maybe he’ll never have to see his father again. 

“Kid, I gotta tell you. You look great. I mean you’re all grown now. What are you now, 23? I sent you a check for your birthday, did you get it?” The words roll off his tongue like they’re meant to be there. As if he was some distant relative you saw at a party once a year. A role that was never his to play. He didn’t get to do that just because he decided that being a father was harder. 

Eddie grabs Steve’s knee under the table, squeezing it. “I didn’t.” The words said innocently as if he didn’t know what question was coming next. 

“You’ll have to give me your address then, the one Wayne gave me must have been the wrong one.”

Steve knew what he was doing. Trying to force himself back into Eddie’s life, trying to get back into his head. It wasn’t going to work, not with Steve. No one gets to manipulate Eddie into anything, especially this. 

Eddie squeezes Steve’s knee harder, digging his nails into his jeans. “I’m sure it was the right one,” is all he says, forcing a smile, a phantom compared to the ones he normally wears. Steve doesn’t even know how he can smile right now at all. 

“I’m sure your friend here would give it to me. Wouldn’t you,” he gestures for Steve to fill in his name. 

“Steve,” he says curtly. “And I’m sure Wayne gave you the right one. The mail can just be slow.”

He glares into the man’s eyes, furious at what he sees. They're the same eyes he looks into every day, the same eyes he loves. But they're different here, crueler, darker. He hates that Eddie got anything from him. Hates that something that makes Eddie so Eddie can be traced back to him. 

The man moves on, unwilling to admit that he lost his upper hand. He just keeps talking, stories of prison mates, and filling in the gaps of Eddie’s life in his mind with stories he could only wish were true. You’re prom was like that, wasn’t it, Ed? I’m sure you’ve stolen a few cars now and then. My son, getting the grades and breaking hearts, right? 

Eddie just smiles when he feels his dad is looking for one. He doesn’t have a right to that smile, to anything that Eddie has. These stories that he’s creating are a false narrative of Eddie’s life, built to make him feel bad for not fulfilling them. In reality, all of what his dad could come up with was wrong. Eddie was so much more than his dad could ever see.

They sit there, listening to the man talk for what feels like an eternity, but was really only an hour. Eddie is so stiff sitting beside Steve, so afraid to move. He’s said so little this entire time, just nodding and agreeing with whatever his dad says. The fear is present in his eyes, Steve knows that’s only fueling the man across from them to continue. He hates it. 

He imagines what would happen if there was no one else here. If Steve would run into this man without Eddie here to stop him. Only one would walk away and he wouldn’t regret it, not for one moment. No one gets to make Eddie feel like this, ever. Not if Steve can help it. Even now he can picture pressing into the eyes that they share, making sure only one of them has them left. That they’re Eddie’s and Eddie’s alone. He doesn’t need to see any reminder of this man in the mirror every day. 

Steve clears his throat. “We should be getting home. We have that dinner with Robin, remember.”

Eddie turns to look at Steve, thanks traveling through with just a gaze. “Right.”

“You boys need a ride?”

“No, that’s alright,” Steve supplies, already standing, making sure to puff out his chest just a bit to look more intimidating. 

Eddie stands and turns without another word, walking away while his father yells out a goodbye, cursing him for not doing the same. When the doors close behind them, Eddie grabs Steve’s hand again, letting out all of the breath in his lungs. Steve says nothing but squeezes Eddie’s hand to let him know he’s here. 

When they start walking, he tenses up again. “I can feel him watching.”

Steve turns his head, seeing the man a block behind them, watching from a distance. “Turn left, we’ll walk the other way for a while.”

That while ended up being a mile. It didn’t need to be, after a few blocks the man gave up, leaving them to the road. That didn’t matter though, it was better to be safe. When it was finally far enough away, Steve hailed a cab, bringing them home. 

Eddie collapses into him when they get back to their apartment, hugging him close, not letting him go. “I hate him,” he cries. “I hate that I’m related to him.”

“No, you’re not. Not to me. Other than blood, that man is nothing to you. Nothing important anyway.” Steve takes Eddie’s face in his hands, wiping away the tears. “Blood means nothing, not when it treats you like that. You don’t owe him shit, never do, never will, no matter what he says.”

More tears stream out of Eddie’s eyes as Steve presses a kiss to his forehead, wrapping him up in another hug. He holds him close as the tears come and just keep coming. 

The fact that Eddie can even smile at all after what that man put him through is an amazement. He’s seen joy shine through his face more times than he can count, and not once has it been fake. The person who he clutches to his chest is nothing like his father. And that only makes him better. He grew up to be the exact person that his father would hate if he ever got to know. To Steve, that’s an accomplishment. As far as he’s concerned, that man is the epitome of everything that’s bad, and Eddie is everything that’s good.

“If he calls again, give the phone to me, ok. You’ll never have to hear his voice again if you don’t want to. You owe him nothing, not another word.”

And it’s true. Eddie gives him nothing more than he already gave today. The next time the man calls, he gives the phone to Steve. He didn’t hold back that time, filling the line with how much the man failed, how much of a disappointment and a terror he was. Steve hung up before he even got a word in. 

It wasn’t the last phone call, but it was the last either of them ever paid attention to. Every other time, the phone was hung back up on the wall before he could end the sentence. Because he didn’t deserve anything, so they didn’t give it to him. 

[silly-ehggy]

Yahoo !!!

(Plz reblog if you like)

[sunbit]

little red riding hood and the big bad wolf

[theultimategaebread]

This audio is so azula coded it's crazy.

pls don't steal

[a-loving-ghost]

Ok I'm starting to think that Luca's prison was just INHUMANELY SHIT because this was like 80 years before he was committed right

ouh if this was in the 1800s then yeah i think you would be right because w the amount of bullshit we can assume based off of even stuff like his promo art here

(link) it's clearly. not humane at all from the various details like the blood on the floor + flowing from a (presumably) recent head wound (upon closer inspection there's also blood in his mouth ouh) and the only thing resembling a bed is what looks like a giant steel shelf with nothing on it. he's also attached to a ball in chain i believe, plus his only two dislikes are "loud noises" and "torture devices" which. uwah

[the-kr8tor]

After the Fall

Tags: No use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, set after 'The Fall'. The aftermath of either endings you chose. TW blood, TW gore, TW Death, TW animal injury, CW implied violence, CW body horror. Fae au lore

A/N: Surprise! Have a lil something that's been eating at me since TF ended. The series is a must read for you to understand this one 🫶

Navigation

The Fall Masterlist

The large doors dance in the freezing blizzard. It's sound clunking and banging against the ancient walls of Mudwood Manor. Miguel wades through the ankle deep snow, the ice freezing him to the bone, the snowflakes pricking his skin instead of the gentle kiss it usually brings.

The fog obscures the Manor, but before he even steps inside, he knows there's something wrong, from how the wind howls right in his ears, whispering death and blood. After living in the cursed place since birth he just knows. It's just like that morning again. He dreads going inside his own home.

Something horrific lies inside.

The smell hits him first, the rot and decay of flesh and bones. His boots thump loudly in the dead quiet, he doesn't want to disturb whatever awaits him inside or it might just wake up.

He walks on something soft, the squelch sending shivers down his spine.

His eyes stay ahead of him like an army man, his hand shakes as Miguel finally sees the once pristine Manor.

There's dried blood on the walls, painting the oak in a morbid artwork. The sharp pieces of his mother's old vase lie across the floor, dotting it like sharp edged stars.

There's a hand, a kneecap, and a head turned home for the maggots right next to his father's armchair.

His heart pounds against its confines. Palms sweating on the leather straps of his bag. Even the strong stomached would empty out their dinner after seeing all the gore laid out in front of him.

Miguel's eyes search for you, the picture from your resume serves as his reminder of what you look like. Carefully moving along the bloodied mess, he looks under a mauled body for you.

Nothing.

On the couch there's only a severed arm on the expensive leather. He hopes that you still live, that you're still hiding somewhere, thinking that these people were still after you.

He sees a gun on the ground crawling with black spiders.

Miguel knows you're not here anymore.

But he still hopes, prays that you're hidden beneath the floorboards or inside the wardrobe. So he yells your name, his voice bouncing off the gut filled walls.

Nothing.

He screams again, his tonsils hurt but he continues to yell again. There's scattered teeth near his boots. Again. There's a fountain pen covered in dried blood, the finger prints still dirtying the silver. Again. There's bloodied fur on the ground next to the gun. Nellie

He changes course. “Nellie!”

Nothing.

“Fuck! Come on old girl, where are you?!” Miguel hears metal clinking upstairs.

He jogs up to the stairs, avoiding coagulated blood on the narra. There's dog footprints on it, hope blossoms in his chest.

Your bedroom doors are open, burst at the hinges. The smell is much worse in the smaller space. A splattering of blood decorates your floors. A body lies cold, the face completely gone, unrecognizable.

Miguel hears a whine from your bed, he turns around to see Nellie curled around herself, eyes big and watery, her snout covered in gore.

“Nellie” He says softly, walking over the corpse to get to her.

She whines sadly, huffing yet her tail is straight and alert.

“You're alright now, girl. Nothing’s gonna happen” Miguel sits on your bed carefully so he doesn't disturb the sheets you've left.

Nellie whines again, nuzzling the sheets that still smell like you.

“It was her again, huh?” He pets Nellie behind her ear, Miguel feels the matted fur. “You alright?”

It's not his first time encountering death in the manor, he'll bury the dead and scrub the floors and walls clean but he'll still know that blood was spilled in his family home, crimson once flowed between the gaps in the floorboards like a river. He'd know that you once lived here, and that he was too stupid to ignore the signs. Miguel's mind races with what ifs but he could only cling to Nellie who's been here before him, and who will be here after he leaves this life.

Nellie closes her eyes painfully. She's still hurting. She feels you in the trees, she still smells your scent that's slowly fading away but she can't feel you anymore. She can't feel your soul anymore.

She failed. Again.

She should've tried harder this time, warned you, hell, even bit you just so you could stay away. But her aging mind prevents her from doing that. Centuries of sorrow and blood have fogged up her mind, her vision wasn't what it once was. Her claws are not as sharp as before. But she had hope this time, hoped that you'd stay away from the woods, hope that you won't fall for him once again.

But hope is a fickle thing, she shouldn't have relied on it.

As if Miguel knows what she's thinking, he whispers. “Not your fault, it was destined. But I'm still sorry. I don't know what happened here or what has become of her but…you can rest now, I'm here and when you wake up we'll wait, then you can try again”

She nuzzles against Miguel's hand. Remembering the day she first met you, all kind eyes and soft touches, you had heart and she's willing to protect that no matter how long it takes. Whether you've finally decided to break the cycle or you chose to continue once again like the hundred versions of you have done before you. She'd shield you, help you in finally ending the rotten fate that has befallen you.

Until you fall again, she'll be there.

A/N: to all the lovelies who read TF, thank you! This one is for you 🫶

[tetanusvaccineofficial]

mutilator

[holyhounddog]

I have no idea where I was going with this drawing lmao. It’s been sitting in my files for a few weeks debating on if I should post it.

Decided to post it.

Hopefully I added adequate trigger tags.

Lyrics are from this song