#tw: (mild) violence

[anissa-mason]

"Never let the same snake bite you twice."

Family get togethers had almost always been hell since as far back as Anissa could remember. The only time she was able to stomach them was when both her father and eldest brother, Kian, were in attendance. The two Mason men had a way of handling her mother, Jolie as if she were a harmless garden snake instead of the venomous and calculating viper that Anissa and her sister, Serena, knew her to be. 

While Anissa loathed her mother for her inability to keep from injecting her family with her venom, Serena seemed to idolize her for it, making the relationship between the sisters strained. Which was exactly why Anissa had ignored the first text Serena sent her early that afternoon. Just seeing the name wicked bitch appear on her phone screen was enough to sour her mood. It was only a moment later that another arrived. Then another. And another. Reluctantly, Anissa checked the text messages. 

I know your instinct is to ignore anything I send to you. 

But I'm not going to allow it this time. 

The bridesmaid fittings are at 3. 

If you're not there I'll send mom to get you. 

With a groan of frustration and as if Serena could feel how hard her thumbs hit her phone screen, Anissa furiously responded that she would be there. 

Everything had been going so smoothly for the first hour that Anissa forgot that she was in the presence of two venomous creatures. Serena was awful, but her friends weren't nearly as hard to stomach and the presence of mimosas helped to ease the nerves and take the edge off that Anissa had been feeling. Even then, she couldn't entirely relax. Not while her mother was in attendance. 

Anissa was grateful that she wasn't the maid of honor for her sister's wedding, that kept her mother's attention off of her throughout most of the fitting. She was too busy focusing her reptilian gaze on Ashlin making sure she fit the picture of perfection she required for her golden child. She was so close to finally making it out of the bridal boutique and back to her car when she felt the familiar scaly grasp of a hand wrap around her arm. 

Without much time to think, Anissa was yanked to the side, out of sight, cornered by the wretched beast she hated most in the world. Her mother. She didn't speak, just glared at the woman. As if the heat of her glare could cause the woman to burst into flames. 

“Don't be like that, Anissa.” Jolie Mason said in a harsh whisper. She had that fake smile plastered on her face, the one everyone else in the world fell for, the one that her patients trusted. The very smile that Anissa had always seen straight through to those massive fangs dripping with that deadly venom. 

“What do you want?” Anissa finally spoke, nearly choking on the rage she was trying so hard to contain

The smile fell from Jolie’s face. Displeased with her daughter's tone. “Isn't it obvious, sweetheart?” The concern in her voice almost sounded sincere as Jolie reached towards her daughter to tuck some of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “I've been so worried about you.” Jolie embraced Anissa then and that was when she felt the dig of her nails curling hard into the flesh of the backs of her arms. Inflicting pain where no one could see if they happened to be watching. That was Jolie, always careful about her image, not willing to tarnish it in the slightest. And then she began to whisper, a barrage of things she felt Anissa had done wrong.

“Those friends of yours. That man you've been seeing. The things you've been doing. You think I don't know simply because you're not living under my roof, but that's just not the case. I hear things. I see things. Do you have any idea how terribly your behavior reflects upon me? We've been over this so many times, Anissa. I have a reputation to uphold. You should be proud to call yourself my daughter. Instead you're parading around tarnishing my name and everything I stand for.” Each word was sharper than the last, dropping with more venom, her fingernails digging deeper. 

Anissa tore herself  away from Jolie, refusing to let that snake squeeze the life out of her. “Fuck you.” She hissed, spitting venom of her own before she turned and bolted out of the door to the bridal boutique. The slight breeze hit the backs of her arms and it stung, but she didn't stop until she was back in the safety of her car. Reaching one hand around she touched the place on the back of the opposite arm where Jolie had dug her nails into her skin. When she drew her hand back, her fingers were speckled with fresh blood. 

As she drove home, fighting the rage that stormed inside of her, she promised herself that the next time she had to face that viper, Anissa would be the one making her bleed. 

[icelandic-slenderwoman]

You seem kinda evil to me

I mean. The necromancy-..

...and the fact you've kelilled other slenders with no remorse because they crossed you...and the cannibalism and human consumption-...and uhm....more stuff...

-...

SEGÐU ENGUM. EKKI SÁL..

[TELL NO ONE. NOT A SOUL..]

*He grabs the anon with his tendrils, crushing their body.*

[the-quiet-light]

Dusk wanders about the sky, chatting nigh-endlessly with her angel…

…Before she sees a body on the ground.

Bloody, beaten, and half dead, here lies Sigil Anon. In the dying anon’s hand is a book of sigils…opened to a page with power and great risk written into its paper….

But the anon is on their way to being a corpse.

…Dusk paints the sigil onto their arm in indigo.

@sigilanon @theoneandonlysun

[ghosts-and-glory]

This page fought me every step of the way.

I’m trying to get the pacing back under control cause starting on page 6 instead of 1 messed up the way pages lead into eachother. I spent like an hour shuffling the panels around trying to get a nice layout going and had other people helping me. Don’t even talk to me about colouring. And I had to redraw like 50% of the panels cause I’d initially drawn this out like two months ago.

Narinder is built like a bag of bones, does not take much to send him across a room.

First // Previous // Next

[cubbihue]

Have there been times the Turner parents have suspected something but shrugged it off?

They have never suspected Timmy Turner of anything! Despite often expressing regret or disappointment, they still very much love their son! And all the benefits he brings them!!

The Turners are a well established family in the neighborhood. It wouldn't bode them well to go around casting doubt against their own son. It'd affect their reputation terribly!

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[cavycaptain]

[TW: divorce, cassettes as MegaSound "kids", some mild violence]

Two Worlds Apart for @tf-bigbang -- "When Megatron left the Decepticons, he abandoned more than just his Cause. Soundwave intends to remind him of that". Thank you @mxbenz for writing my prompt, please go read the fanfic its AMAZING!

[sanchensky]

Eclipse have had enough of Vigilante!Y\N's disregard.

It's gonna be their final talk.

TW Possesive behaviour, Mild (?) Violence

// there's a happy ending tho :)

~ ~ ~

Here's my little passion project based on Naff's Sleuth Jesters :) I'm still not quite happy with it but I really wanted to finish animatic before Christmas

♫ Used song: The Scorpion and the Frog / Trust Me

Sleuth Jesters by @naffeclipse

Detective!AU belongs to @starlightcloudbaby

Kudos to @crystalitar who originally recommended this song to Naff.

Also much love to @pure-plum who's art I've been shamelessly using as reference :)

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

------------

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[apolaskiart]

"Please don't make Hootsie an orphan..."

[godofautism]

[oddthesungod]

Last night my barbarian Garlan did a murder by killing an evil guy in cold blood after he showed himself to be remorseless at having abused his own children and attempting to kill one of them. Garlan who's a very protective and proud dad had heard enough 😌✨

Old boy is lawful good, but there are some things he draws a hard line on and he sees as monstrous and unforgivable 🔪

[via-the-cryptid]

so we rejoin the story to find the Riddler having a crisis over the fact that Ellie somehow Does Not Know Who Batman Is. Ace is trying to explain it to her, except the Riddler can’t see Ace and is therefore considering the fact that the weird little girl he picked up might have a legitimate mental disorder that’s causing her to hallucinate. however his prevailing theory is that the toxin from the bullet (because of course it’s toxin, why else would it be green?) is messing with her head, so maybe she’ll make more sense once that’s dealt with.

except then he tries to say something about cleaning the wound and trying to get all the green out so she doesn’t get poisoned any further, and she fuckin goes.

“Oh, it’s supposed to be like that.”

“What?”

yeah, so fun fact for you, Eddie: Ellie’s insides are just green sometimes. and she’s not explaining why. there’s a reason, yes, allegedly a very good and normal reason according to her, but she’s not going to tell you what it is.

Lovely.

“Well, will you at least let me clean it?” He asks, not entirely believing that her blood is Supposed To Be A Little Bit Mostly Green. “Infections are a serious business, you know, they’ll eat away at your flesh if you don’t know what to—”

And Ellie just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. As long as I come out of this with as much flesh as I went in with.”

And what the fuck does she mean by that. Is that an issue for her? Tissue theft? Do people regularly attempt to make off with her flesh? Every word out of this child’s mouth makes him more and more baffled and concerned.

Ellie, of course, is well aware of the fact that sometimes she would go into Vlad’s lab and then leave with less mass than she had before, so it’s quite a valid concern for her. Ellie also does not entirely know what a hospital or infirmary is, and therefore is under the impression that all people-fixing happens in a lab, since that’s how it went with both Vlad and Danny. Ace’s account of experimentation only supports that, although Ace is at least somewhat aware of what a hospital is.

so Eddie takes his newly acquired headache back to his base, grabs the first aid kit, and comes back into the room he left her in to find that yes, her blood is both green and red, and yes, it’s now on his floor. and so is the bullet.

“Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, Jesus Christ,” he mutters, punching the bridge of his nose. Ellie is unsympathetic.

“You were taking too long and I wanted the bullet out.”

Above her, Ace is sighing, though Eddie can’t hear it. “I told you to be careful. You could have waited for tweezers. I know he was bringing them.”

“Yeah, well, my fingers worked, didn’t they? I don’t need his tweezers.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Ceiling ghost.”

“…What?”

“I said what I said. She’s unimpressed by you, by the way.”

“I— what? Why is a ceiling ghost judging me? And for that matter, whose ghost is in my ceiling?!”

“That’s irrelevant! You should work on being someone the ceiling ghost can be proud of, dammit!”

(Eddie is very close to throwing something, but Ace is laughing for the first time since Ellie’s met her, so. Ellie can’t really bring herself to regret antagonizing the question man.)

[fungus-no69]

hope lovecraft is rolling in his grave as I write this. I hope more people write about eldritch horrors being gay and shit. lovecraftian gay sex… (i do not write smut)

Context: it is a beautiful day in rapechestershire and you are a horrible monstrosity

Content: Body horror I guess, reader is a little petty (deserved), dol typical bullying, brief and non graphic gore in Kylar’s, mentioned animal death in Remy’s (you are Eating The Cows), some spoilers for Ivory Wraith’s lore

Remembering to oxidise your body is a burden, making your heart beat is a chore, remembering to move the rest of your vessel with your expressions is tiring. What do animals even need these rigid pieces of flesh for?

…though you quickly realised the value of muscles when your meat began to droop around your faux bones which is something you’re fairly certain does not happen to mortals.

Of course, you can’t maintain a full rest while above water in this fashion. You’ve come to learn that humans do not particularly enjoy a mass of greasy limbs, mottled flesh and gunky mucus spread on the floor. 'Sleeping' is nice though, as limited as your opportunities are. Humans are fickle creatures and that also applies to their sleeping habits.

Nonetheless. You need to practise your human-form-making skills. And what better way to learn about appearing more human than to attend the industry of learning itself?

Whitney:

Why this blonde mortal took an interest in you? You're not sure.

One day they were there and they never left

They’re always poking at your vessel. Rude…

Thanks to them and their lackeys you had to learn how to fake falling over when punched because apparently it’s strange to just stand there and take a hit without flinching.

They know somethings wrong with you but they can’t put their finger on it, this leads to even more bullying

Most of their harassment is about how you look and act apart from the straight up sexual assault.

They once saw you slip up on your transformation because it was a particularly irritating day and you briefly reintroduced your habit of scaring off others by posturing.

Not your finest moment, I say. They passed out because your mutilated structure was too much for their poor human mind to handle.

Thankfully you can help them forget the incident or write it off as some weird drug induced hallucination. (by distracting them with something inconvenient when they wake up. Like an ice cube in their mouth. Or a cut to their gums.)

You can’t let something like that happen again

Sydney:

You don't know why they're looking at you weirdly. You have the correct amount of teeth this time. You checked.

They help you out when people ask you stupid questions like 'are you a ventriloquist?' 'how can you bend that far?' and 'hey where'd your elbows go?'

It’s always awkward to dismiss yourself during those encounters, considering your ‘schoolmates’ don’t tend to let things go and are rather fixated on following their more malicious instincts towards you than letting you leave. So Sydney’s help is appreciated.

You leave little gifts for them in the library. A book you found in the lake and dried, the foot of a rabbit (humans find that lucky right?), little shiny objects you discover while walking around.

You’re far from weak or incapable but Sydney’s interventions make keeping up the act more bearable.

Over time they find that they become enamoured with you and that’s terrifying to them. One, because they’ve never felt like this before and two, Jordan seems to disapprove of you in some way? They don’t explain why but they warn Sydney about you. Which raises some issues which you don't completely understand for all of your infinite (old) wisdom.

As they become more corrupted, they get a bit more pushy with their ‘subtle’ questions about you- thankfully they never nag for too long.

You fear that Sydney, loyal and kind Sydney, will leave you when they find your true nature. That they will find you repulsive like many before them.

Thus, you will hide your true nature from them. No matter how often they ask or the fact that they know something is off- you can never let them confirm those suspicions.

Kylar:

You see the way the shadows loom over this mortal- they are more connected to the other worlds than they realise.

This draws you to them in a way, having someone who is more connected to your home than everyone around you. And them to you, though you suspect this may have happened regardless of your identity.

Kylar is another anomaly in a sea of others who look different but are fundamentally indiscernible. If you were to cut open a human and pry open their ribcage, you would find the same thing in each one. But not yours. And perhaps not Kylar’s.

They seem to feel a strange compulsion to protect you. You’ve seen this type of behaviour with Sydney and maybe Whitney to an extent, but never to the intensity that a knife was procured.

You understand that the utensil is sharp but you're a little bit confused to why the students run away when they see it? Stabbing someone requires strength and you're fairly certain Kylar is not very strong.

Surprisingly, they were the first one to ask about why you speak the way you do. When asked what they meant they told you that you speak in a very formal manner. Your expression must have made a change in some way because they quickly apologise profusely for offending you. It doesn't.

If you sulk about it a little then that's nobody's business other than your own.

Harper:

You get sent to the asylum for your silly behaviour (crimes and general strangeness that does not pass for mentally healthy) and Harper tries to gaslight you "there are no tentacles they aren't real" explain this.

You don’t have a firm grasp on human behaviour yet, especially when it comes to being polite but c'mon. Even you know this guy is a weirdo.

They will inevitably learn about your true nature regardless of how hard you conceal it.

Hypnotism doesn’t work on you, your blood is too dark and thin to resemble a human’s, sometimes you forget to make your heart beat etc.

They’re not as freaked out as you thought they’d be but they do want to run some tests on you

You say no thank you because even if it’s just for ‘personal research’ you don’t want your inhumanity on record (and Harper’s a creep)

They attempt to blackmail you in a sense but you stand strong on your opinion. Who would they tell and even then, who would believe them? And then there’s the fact that there is no human nor invention that can contain or incapacitate you.

You may meet them on your vacation to Remy’s farm, they’re initially confused to see you there but just as easily accept it. As much as they want to understand you- you’re not exactly human, so they don’t expect you to act by the rules of humans.

It would almost be nice if they didn’t finish their little spiel by dragging you to a stage. Stares make your epidermis feel like there’s little bugs underneath it and you feel the urge to peel it off to escape the unpleasant sensation. You don’t, because that would reveal you.

You end your holiday by trashing their office.

Remy:

You originally came across their farm because you were hungry. Remy, of course, noticed the dwindling population of their cows and went to investigate. Lo and behold- they found you.

They don’t know for sure if you’re involved in the missing cows but they suspect you’ve stolen them or something. Not that you ate them.

You allow yourself to be captured, you could annihilate these puny humans if you wanted to but something tells you this place will grant you rest and food.

The fact they stole your clothes was mildly irritating but you can easily get some when you return 'home'. What do humans call it? The five finger discount? You're not sure what having five fingers has to do with saving currency but you appreciate it regardless.

You don’t develop transformations. You lack the biology to do so, but seeing other cattle develop their features tips you off to the fact you’re supposed to be gaining ears and such so you try to replicate them…

The farmhand who opens your stable in the morning almost shits their pants

You don’t try again after that.

Remy is wondering why their cattle are STILL disappearing.

Ivory Wraith:

They are much similar to yourself, tethered to this mortal realm through an object. Though their emotions are a bit more… uncontrollable than yours.

But perhaps that came with being human. Formerly, you suppose. Not that you would know what it’s like to be human.

They know your existence is eternal, will last for much longer than their own given their own circumstances.

Inevitably, they belong to this world and you do not.

Nonetheless you understand each other to a point, with both of you being non human and somewhat incorporeal.

They vaguely recognise you from long ago, a painting or two within the temple depicting a monster. They had never really examined it, being too unsettled to do so.

They also remember that during the schism, they felt the presence of something much larger than themself. They suspect it may be you, though they’re not certain.

No matter, you're here now.

…

It is the first time you have felt desire for something other than rest in centuries.

You have never been one to want. You do not experience emotion as deeply as mortals (or former mortals) do, somehow simultaneously deeper but so shallowly. You do not feel affection, and even if you have, it has surely been so long since then that you have forgotten. And yet…

You think this strange feeling in your fleshy midsection is the closest to love you can get.

[frownyalfred]

remember when Bruce got mind controlled and fought Dick and broke his arm so hard he screamed? well it turns out if you look that clip up, tiktok will continue to feed you edits of that scene forever

[dross-the-fishs-bowl]

"Vices"

Edward hyde pin up.

Finished the background.

[itsnotjustgibberish]

A hand over your chest; a hand behind your back, fingers uncrossed. A bouquet of purple hyacinths and white tulips refuse to rot.

I’ve been working on this on and off for about two months and finally finished it yippee! My beloveds