Curate, connect, and discover
Murder - Blog Posts
Alternatively
Loki (female): I like men how I like emotions
Thor:...how?
Loki: Buried
Thor: Pretty sure that’s called murder. It’s illegal
Loki: Only if they find the bodies
Loki (currently female): I like my men how I like my emotions
Thor: ...how?
Loki with a grin: Buried deep inside me
Thor: *sighs* I really should have seen that coming
And then Holley saves their asses while Finn is in la la land waiting to die.
Holley: Oh Ford, you kidnap a tow truck without doing background check, you yell at me for shocking your informant when you had TWELVES HOURS to say something, and you got caught because you didn’t think to look up. And you call Mater the idiot? He at least no idea what he doing most of the time and I was mostly following your orders!
Finn: Shut up woman! We have to stop this violence with the only way I know how: with MORE violence!
Holley: Should’ve seen that one coming. Just promise me your death count will be less than three today.
Finn: Yes.
Omg I just realized Finn is 100% willing to die for McQueen no question.
Zero
🔪 You actually met when you were in kindergarten. It was love at first sight. He was enamored by you and your cute outfit. He ran towards you the first day.
“Hi, my name is Зиновий, what’s yours?”
And the rest was history.
🔪 Since that day he would always be with you. Following you everywhere and never let other kids play with you. It was always just the two of you. You were always together at school. You two ate together, had sleepovers, had the same classes, cuddled together, did projects together, and even kissed during the first grade play. Monopolizing your time and friendship at school was the goal. No one had what you guys had, and he was hoping it would always stay that way.
🔪 Everything was going as planned until your mom‘s job change sent you out of the archipelagos to the States in the second grade. How dare she! Uprooting your life and ripping you away from your best friend b̸o̸y̸f̸r̸i̸e̸n̸d̸. You didn't even have time to say goodbye to anyone. You were here one minute, gone the next. It was a nightmare.
🔪 When he found out he was devastated. A lot of tears were shed during that time. Tantrums were heard to be the norm for quite a while in the убийца’s household. He looked everywhere for you. But no information on you was ever found. It was like you just disappeared, like you never existed. Like a chilly day in October. Whisked away by the cool breeze.
🔪 She changed and surrounded herself with people. Your missing presence was too overwhelming. Even if she hated it, she would befriend everyone, if only to distract her for a moment from thoughts of you. She went so far as to make contact with some of the people she couldn’t scare away from you. But the void in her heart was never fully quelled. They were not you. And nothing could change that, not in those moments at least.
🔪 She caught her first glimpse of you in a long time through your closest childhood friend. Question ran through her mind, she thought she was your closest friend, and why did they get the privilege of staying in contact when she didn’t. She started to vigorously study your face as quickly as she could. She would never knew if there would be another chance to. It looked like you had matured. Like you were tired, stressed. She could see it. How could she not? She wanted nothing more than to whisk you away so you would never have to worry about anything. And she would.
🔪 It wouldn't be until college that they would be able to see you again. They have matured a lot since the last time they saw you and since your last official meeting. They were cooler, friendlier, and more assured. They mirrored nothing of the needy cat that followed you around, more of that of a wise fox. But foxes are known to be sly creatures by nature.
🔪They approached you carefully, slowly. Taking it step by step. Getting to know you little by little. Learning everything about you that they could. Making your favorite dishes, helping you with your homework, helping you destress, and even assisting you in doing laundry. They were everywhere, always helping you with everything they could. Taking up so much of your time so that they will have successfully ingratiate themselves into your life. Doing so that they are essential to you. Something or someone you can not live without.
🔪 The night lies and deceit fester. As midnight strikes another body is flung into the wall as the fine silk curtains are dyed a hideous red. The body count adds up to fast. Too many needed to die. Even when there are commissions, the important work gets done first. It always does.
🔪 Wiping the blood off the corner of his lip, she prepares to call you. They wait, taking a seat on the throne of bodies they created. A satisfying crackle of bones is made, but drowned out by the annoying buzzing of the phone. You answer, slightly breathless. They chuckled imagining what you were doing before they called. This happens every time he calls…and she loves it. Your call together lasted an hour at most. Just tucking you into bed, while he cleaned the mess he made. You were always bad at bedtime. As your call is near the end, one last word is heard.
“I love you, Mwah”
They swoons, you're so adorable, it’s sickening.
🔪 And so as the night ends, there is not a sound or soul present. As he digests what was said, she’s sure it was in the heat of the moment. But you couldn’t take it back. He wished he would’ve recorded it. She’d love to hear it again. Salivating as they turned back into their male appearance. The form most well receipted by society. The form most familiar to you. Wishing for the dream they live to never end. They walked out the room and went to the nearby alley, skipping the whole way home. They couldn’t wait to see your drooling face in bed. Or the reaction you will have when they tried to snuggle up to you in your sleep.
Then they inquired to themself, it was quite the important question…
Where are they going to store their latest trophy?
houw could yo-aAAAAAAAAAASAFfjdkfjoeiwjdfiomndokfniodks
you have to roleplay your url every time you open tumblr how screwed are you
Yan!Patron!! ♡＾▽＾♡
A/N: I'll be making a masterlist and introduction soon! (˘³˘)♡
CW: gn!artist!reader, manipulation, stalking, candid photos, indebt!struggling!reader, kidnapping, murder, torture, handcuffing, and slight manipulation.
word count: 510!!
Yan!patron who commissions you weekly for a new piece of art every week or so. Either stating that it's to impress some rich folks or just to display around his mansion(s). No piece goes unanalyzed, he'll inspect the type of paint you use, how thick or thin the strokes were, the way you painted every detail with him in mind, all so adorable.
Yan!patron who is actually a really important figure in political and economical business. Not that he'd ever tell you, he uses a pen name whenever he contacts, though whoever is delivering your new piece actually has to deliver to his door. Even going as far as to order the delivery guy to wear gloves so their fingerprints don't ruin your precious work.
Yan!patron who has a whole room dedicated to you and your art, yes, you too. Candid photos he took of you painting and doing everyday things, it's not his fault he just happened to have a spare mansion coincidentally built recently near your lowly apartment! His favorite one (which is you looking like an angel while sleeping) is framed in old Amazon wood he gained at an auction.
Yan!patron who pays you more than your commissions ask for, but he takes so much pity on you! You're a struggling artist trying to balance bills, deadlines, and college debt! Why can't you let him spoil you?? (And in spoiling means little by little making you feel like you owe him something)
Yan!patron who only wants the best for you, which is why he kidnapped you. Look, he has hitmans on him all the time! What happens if people found out you were valuable to him? They could harm you!! He made sure that the basement is cleaned and there's to be no speck of dust to be found, following with a lavish bed and wardrobe (some which are from your own, and some that are Yan!patron's choice) that could be your old bedroom based on size. Not to mention your favorite flowers, a bathroom, and a pile of welcome gifts!
Yan!patron who treats you like glass, carefully stroking your red, tear stained cheeks like you also were a piece of art. So the saying that the artist was as beautiful as their art was true after all. Not to worry, you'll be out of your binds soon, just as soon as he finds you not wanting to escape.
Yan!patron who still makes you paint, having plenty of canvases and rich paints. Oil, acrylic, water colors, pastels, any you could imagine. He likes the self portraits you make for him, he'll have a room dedicated to those soon.
Yan!patron whose maids go missing after they say something distasteful or even go as far touch touch your art, how dare they? Can't they see your art surpasses the great mona lisa itself? Don't worry, they're not in the basement with you, isn't it great that Yan!patron has a Victorian mansion WITH a torture chamber? What a bargain!
Aeneas taken by the Sibyl to the Underworld (Detail), 17th century. By Jacob Isaacsz. van Swanenburg
Self-Isolation (2020)
You’ve been sentenced to 400 years for multiple murders. It’s been 399 years and your jailers are starting to get nervous.
This legit me sometimes lol
Ope! And there goes my plan of being a murderous racist
🫡
He left me on opened for 40 minutes. Do i murder him or myself?
There are way too many attractive murderers on tv and I hate it because I make excuses for them. I’m like, “yeah they murder girls my age but he’s an absolute snack”
You need someone taken out,
Don't come to me. I don't date people
Okay, okay. even if this was lucid dreaming, it's still murder. If i were to put you in a hyper-realistic VR game of your life, and you didn't know that I did so, and thought everyone around you was real, and alive, and you killed someone, is that not murder? You, from your perspective, caused harm and loss of life to a living, breathing person, even if that was not the case. So it is still technically murder. Hilarious. But still murder
I’m glad ppl on tiktok are doing ok
I just want THIS GUY
To meet THIS GUY
Billy Butcher & Frank Castle
Wait a second this reminds me of something.........................................
A family that kills together.
Mirabel, rushes in panicking. "On no on no no no no"
Augustin "Mijita what's wrong?"
Mirabel, sobbing "I messed up, I messed up so bad!"
Luisa "I'm on it just show me the body and I'll take care of it."
Mirabel "But.."
Pepa "Shh shh darling, Tia will wash away all the evidence."
Antonio, smiling, surround by pigs "Did you know my friends can consume every part of a human other than teeth and hair."
Isa, very matter of fact, "We can bury those in my room."
Dolores, slyly "From what I've been hearing this person was planning to leave the encanto in secret for awhile now."
Camilo, shifting into multiple people "And trust me, we can make that bealivable."
Julieta, reassuringly "And if anyone asks you with me all day helping make Gelatina Negra okey."
Felix, happily "But trust me no one will ask."
Bruno, simply "And if bad comes to worst pin the blame on me, I'm already old and hated, plus everyone thinks I killed that goldfish."
Mirabel "I didn't kill anyone! I accidentally broke a hole in Casita!"
Alma "Then get the spackle and stop forcing us to come up with plans on the spot."
(The ghost of Pedro is laughing his ass off.)
So in French class we created and described two characters (in French) as an exercise. And I made a little comic off them.
Meet Karl Birch, the rainbow non-bianary potato who is sad because someone stole his chicken nuggets (me).
And then there’s Jacque Gordon, a knife three times the size of a school and he’s mean and angry with a single tuff of red hair.
I think their neat
Some more Wilford Warfstache because why not.
Wilford Warfstache and Darkiplier. Wilford is convinced they’re bestest of friends Dark not so much. @markiplier
Unhinged Angel
Short inspired by a fanart in the 14dwy discord server :3
mdni !! / 14 days with you / cws in tags / Ren belongs to @14dayswithyou
Angel calmly leads the man into the alleyway. He had challenged them to a fight after all, and though Ren had done his best to de-escalate the situation, the man had just turned on him instead.
That’s what made Angel snap.
Day in, day out, they dealt with disgruntled customers yelling at them about something or another as though Angel had personally gone out of their way to ruin this person’s life. They were used to it by now. Not happy, but desensitized, numb.
But when that man turned on Ren and started calling him vile, filthy names, mocking him for standing up for Angel, something inside them broke. Their face changed from an empty stare to widened eyes and a tight smile.
And that brought the unlikely group here. A clearly nervous Ren, his hands clenched into shaking fists and a wide-eyed, concerned look on his face. An eerily calm Angel, leading a fuming man deeper into the alley, away from witnesses, though he was too angry to realize the danger. It isn’t until Angel turns around, a dead look in their eyes and their smile nowhere to be seen that he finally pauses. But it was already too late.
Angel makes eye contact with Ren, indicating for him to leave with a tilt of their head. He wants to do anything other than leave his Angel alone right now, but figures he would be more use as [Redacted], so he reluctantly leaves, mumbling something about calling for help. Angel carefully watches them leave before they refocus on the man. He was now pushing up his sleeves, posturing for a fight. Before he even gets a chance to advance, Angel reveals a pistol, aiming and pulling the trigger without even a flinch.
It takes the man a moment to react, staring for a split second before crumpling with a howl, grabbing at his leg in pain. Angel calmly cocks the gun, and aims once more, hitting his right arm this time. Rolling their eyes at the man’s screams, they unravel the scarf from around his neck and shove the end into his mouth, causing him to gag and choke on the fabric.
Without a change in expression, Angel cocks the gun one more time, regarding the man beneath them. He was openly sobbing now, though his cries were muffled by his own scarf. He writhed around, making sounds and gestures adjacent to pleas of mercy. Before he could crawl too far away, Angel pinned him with a shoe on his back.
They shake their head exasperatedly, “You know… I don’t care about you. I don’t care about much of anyone, including myself. But you know who I do care about?” They pause before answering their own question, clearly not expecting an answer from the sniveling man, “Ren. And you know what happens when you threaten the last fucking thing someone cares about when they have nothing left to lose?”
Angel chuckles, their tone devoid of humor, “Ah, but I suppose it’s too late for you to do anything with that information, isn’t it?”
They straighten, stepping off the man and watching as he futilely resumes his desperate crawl before ending it with a final smoking round from the gun into the back of his head. Blood splattered all across the alleyway and onto Angel’s skin, blemishing it with a dark shade of red.
“A- Angel?”
Angel’s head whips up, meeting a pair of baby blue eyes. There Ren stood, outlined in light like an angel, a hand obscuring the lower half of his face. His eyes were wide, shocked, horrified; no doubt at the scene that lay before him.
Angel’s impassive exterior melts into a look of panic, “W- Wait. No- Ren, it isn’t- It was self defense I swear!” They click the safety on before tossing the gun away and opening their hands in innocence, advancing on Ren as they did so.
Inexplicably, instead of drawing back away from them, he stumbles forward, eyes flicking between Angel and the man on the ground, motionless. Angel pauses maybe ten feet away, unsure of what to say and wary of the wide-eyed look Ren still carried.
Ren mumbles between his fingers, still treading towards them, “Angel… I never thought… I didn’t know you would do something like this…”
Angel’s eyes tear up at his words, “Ren please, I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t! Please just- just don’t… don’t leave me…” Their words trail off and they look down, unable to meet Ren’s eyes that were always filled with such innocence.
Or at least, that’s what they had thought. But as Ren’s hand slips from his own face to cup theirs, Angel sees something entirely unexpected. He was smiling. A deranged kind of smile that they would have been wary of before, but now, they lean into his open palm, accepting him fully and practically begging with their eyes for him to do the same.
Luckily, he needed no convincing as his breaths were shaky, catching in his throat as he looked at them with the most intense eyes they had ever seen. Love-struck through and through, as though Angel was the only thing that kept the sun rising and falling. His state of mind was clear as day when he tugged them in closer, his hands trembling with excitement and his hold reigned in just enough to not inflict pain.
Ren leans down, burying his face into Angel’s neck with a helpless laugh, “Oh, my Angel.”
His gaze locks on to the unmoving body behind his love, his smile growing hopeful in a sinister way as he murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Taken (Part 1/5)
Uhhhh this is my first time posting a fic anywhere lmao, idk what I'm doing but enjoy ig? :D Ren and image belong to @14dayswithyou content warnings are in the tags
Summary: Angel runs into trouble after hanging out with Jae and Teo
2.1k words
14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI
“Get away from me!” I yell as loudly as I can, hoping to either get the guy to back off or get someone else’s attention. Of course the one time I decide to go to a bar and try to be social I get some creep trying to follow me home.
The man was swaying just a bit, clearly intoxicated, with shoulder-length black hair falling over their flushed face in greasy strands. I was pretty sure I could take him down if need be, but the fact that he was blocking the only way out from the alleyway concerned me. I had used the back exit specifically to avoid him, but he was a step ahead of me, probably not the first time he’s done this.
He began speaking again, slightly slurring his words, “Awww, c’mon, a pretty girl like you walking home alone? S’not safe, let m’come with you.”
I glare, “Listen, I’m not interested in anything you have to offer me, what I would appreciate most is if you got out of my way.”
He takes a step forward and I take a matching step back. He croons, “I’m not gonna hurt ya, stop being so paranoid.”
This time when he steps forward, I hold my ground, shifting my stance and holding my hands out in something between a placating gesture and a guard, “I’m warning you now, if you don’t back off…”
I don’t finish the threat as I don’t really have any leverage. My phone’s battery is dead so I can’t call for help, and my knife is in my bag, which I had forgotten to even bring. Sure, I knew martial arts, but that probably wouldn’t mean much to this guy.
So as he staggers closer, giggling, I follow his movements, recalling some of the simplest ways to take someone down. But just as he gets within range, his entire demeanor changes, his dazed look and swaying stance fall into a predatory glare and light-footed lunge. I catch the glint of what was probably a knife slashing from behind his back and sloppily swing my arm down to block it. I intercept his forearm, but don’t have the strength to hold back a full-bodied swing at a moment’s notice, so the blade catches my shirt and burns across my hip.
For a moment, the world freezes. I can hear a thousand thoughts and regrets flash through my mind, but they sound distant, detached. The man steps out of my reach and gives me a disgusting grin while I stand in shock. My hand shakily moves to cover the open wound, and I can’t help but look down at the thick liquid smearing on my palm. I try to step backwards, but the twisting of the wound sends jolts of searing pain up my side and I fall, holding my hip as hard as I can as I yell out expletives.
From my collapsed position on the ground I raise my head to keep track of my attacker, but he just stands laughing at me, apparently reveling in the first blood he had managed to take. What I didn’t expect to see, though, was a different figure, clad in all black and wielding a sledgehammer above their head, aiming at the black-haired stranger in complete silence. I can’t see their face clearly since their hoodie shadowed it, but I can feel their anger as the sledgehammer makes impact with the stranger’s head, flinging his entire body to the side with the force of the blow.
I stare at what's left of the man’s head as it makes impact with the wall of the alley and slowly slides back down. Red. Everything was red. The walls, the ground, the body that was laying crumpled at their junction, and the face of the person who undoubtedly just killed him. As I follow the trail of red, I notice its hue doesn’t stain their clothes, only turns it a richer shade of black. But their face…
It's twisted into an ugly expression, something between disgust, frustration, and utter apathy as they consider the body before them. The splashes of red sharply contrast their pale skin as it drips down their cheek. I shuffle backwards as best I can, fighting the morbid curiosity to look back to the silent body on my left, instead keeping them fixed on the cold face in front of me. I see a flash of blue as they turn away hurriedly, dragging a neck gaiter higher over their nose and pulling their hood low once again before approaching me.
I belatedly notice the tears running down my face and try to wipe them away, not wanting to appear weak before this new opponent, though there probably wasn’t much chance of that at this point. My efforts accomplish nothing but smearing my own blood and dirt across my face, but I have no time to worry about that as my back hits the dead end behind me.
I can’t hear anything except the roaring pain in my side and my heartbeat thrumming in my ears louder than any bassline I’d heard before. I glance behind me to confirm that there was indeed no escape before returning to the shadowy figure now crouching just out of my reach.
To my surprise, when his gloved hand returned from the depths of his pocket, it held not a weapon, but a phone. He speaks into it in a foreign language, and a million thoughts run through my brain, piecing together what I can from my shaky understanding: Fuck, he called someone. That’s Japanese. I know Japanese! Daijōbudesu? It’s okay? No the fuck it’s not! Is he even talking to me? Something about this place? Someone staying here? Fuck, is he calling in reinforcements? Who’s on the other line? Kudasai? This bitch is being polite??? Is it the police?
When he finishes speaking, he immediately turns the phone to face me. I read the displayed text:
‘All right. Called an ambulance. Please exist here and keep stress on the defects.’
Despite the situation, I let out a choked laugh at the shoddy translation, though luckily it managed to convey the pieces I hadn’t understood. The blue, red, yellow, and green logo in the top right corner confirmed my suspicions, “Google translate? Really? That’s not even close to what you said. Google sucks at translating Japanese; you’d be better off with Spanish or another romance language, if you know it,” I ramble out what comes to mind, whether he can understand me or not.
It seems like he understands me since he makes a surprised sound and shakes his head before turning the phone back to read it himself and letting out an irritated sigh. He pulls off a glove to attempt typing but I speak up again, despite my voice shaking and hitching so badly that he might need google translate to figure out what I’m saying, “I think I know what- what… you mean. Do you- do you- do-. You- FUCK,” cursing to dispel my stutter, I continue, “You want me to stay here for the ambulance and keep pressure on the cut, right? Thank… you?” It feels weird to thank someone who just smashed a guy’s head in, but staying on their good side was probably the best idea for now.
He nods and reaches out a hand toward my head, which I would have withdrawn from if my head wasn’t already against the wall, but since I couldn’t, I just squeezed my eyes shut, hoping whatever came next wouldn’t be too painful. When I feel a gentle ruffling sensation of my hair, my eyes pop back open in surprise. I clearly see their own eyes for the first time, looking at me far more softly than they had any right to.
My confused look seemed to shake them out of whatever reverie they were in, and he abruptly retrieves his hand, looking down again and mumbling, “ごめん, 目をそらす.”
To reinforce his meaning, he covers his own eyes before pointing at me. I hesitantly raise a hand over my eyes, but peek through a sliver to make sure he wasn’t going to try anything. He didn’t, instead turning and standing, approaching the dead man. I close the gap, not wanting to see what he did.
The swirling, sickening feeling in my gut only increases the more I think about the stranger’s eyes. A strikingly beautiful color, ocean blue with a hint of pink swirling through them if you looked closely enough. I was sure I had seen them before but couldn’t recall when or where. What bothered me more though, were their eyebrows. Pink. I only knew one insanely tall person with pink hair.
But of course it couldn’t be him, it’s not like pink hair is unheard of. And he would never be able to wield a sledgehammer like that, he’s always so timid… and those definitely weren’t his eyes. His are a much lighter baby blue. Plus he speaks English, he probably doesn’t even know Japanese. I reassure myself. Surely my partner could never kill someone with such ease.
Despite my conclusion, I can’t help but spread my fingers again, peeking out to see the person’s form dropping a half-full trash bag on the spot where the remains of the man’s head was, covering the worst of the remaining viscera. I couldn’t see the body anywhere, but the dumpster was closed now, and I wasn’t about to check it. I evaluate his height, placing it at about six and a half feet. The same as… No. But what if?
I see him pick up the serrated knife that was left on the ground, inspecting it closely, though for what I wasn’t sure. I drop my hand from my eyes, instead using it to brace against the wall as I try to stand up, but hiss in pain and slide right back down. This grabs the attention of the black-clad figure and he takes a few hasty steps towards me, gesturing for me to stay down.
I warily eye the knife in his hand, and he gets the message, tossing it behind him somewhere carelessly before opening his hands, showing that they’re empty. They then back away, glancing between me and the entrance of the alleyway a few times before turning to leave.
I call out desperately, “Wait!” I’d never be able to face my boyfriend if I didn’t confirm this wasn’t him now, but how could I do that? I continue in a timid voice, forcing a few more tears to roll down my face, “Don’t leave me, please. I’m scared…”
He hesitantly turns back to me but stays where he is, clearly uncertain.
I let my bottom lip tremble, “Could you just… could I hold your hand?” I cringe internally at the insane request, but to my surprise it seems to convince them as they return to my side, kneeling on one knee and offering his right hand to me.
But that’s not what I needed, so I winced and snatched both of my hands back to my hip. When he reaches for my hip with his left hand, I grip onto it as though it was the only thing keeping me from dying. To my shock, I feel what I was looking for. A ring on their ring finger, the same thickness and width as the one he always wore around his neck.
I freeze, not able to meet their eyes. Turns out I knew nothing of my boyfriend of three months. I pull my hand back as unobtrusively as possible, betrayal and horror coursing through my veins as I murmur, “Sorry, you probably should go before the ambulance gets here.”
I watch as they pause, clearly thrown by my sudden change of heart. But when we hear sirens closing in from the distance, they shoot to their feet and briskly walk out of the alleyway, casually grabbing the sledgehammer they had left standing in the middle of the path as though it weighed nothing. I shivered at the comfort he handles the weapon with.
When the ambulance arrives, they asked me a multitude of questions, most I didn’t know the answer to. When they asked me who was responsible for my wound, I just pointed a shaky finger towards the dumpster, “I think he’s in there…”
When questioned further about the second figure, I only gave vague answers, not anything that would be helpful in a search. Luckily for me, my swimming vision and pounding headache finally gave way to sweet unconsciousness, the blood loss finally catching up to me.
ya gotta do what ya gotta do.
Hi, I just noticed it was mentioned in the one post that 049 killed his father. Can I have some elaboration on that?
(Thanks for the ask, this is my first!)
The Corvonus family was a very tight knit one. Isac the father, a duke. Mary the mother, black hair and fair skin that all the other nobals envied, and their yet unborn child, Florence.
But tragedy struck the family, Mary died in child birth.
All Isac saw when he looked at that infant was a monster, a monster who took his beloved wife. Why should he care for that thing? That creature with golden eyes, that stole life not of its own. The maid could care for the infant. He wasnt going to have any part of raising a murderer!
Florence was bright, learing to read at only three years of age, and to write not long after, but he was off. His eyes had a calculating look and an almost emotionless gaze. Florence was also shy, and his father throwing bottles at him didnt help.
When Florence was seven, his fathers mistress gave birth to Jay, his brother. Whom he would protect with his life. Even during 'punishment' Florence would take the blame, be on the receaving end of a belt, a bottle, or even the cellar.
Jay was slow but not dim, and this irritated Isac, why couldnt he have one normal child?! Not a killer! Not defective! He blamed his children, the demonic, stupid, children!
But to the children this was normal, right?
Florencre was bright, maybe even bright enough to get away with murder.
---
I was thinking of maybe writing this into a full story, thoughts?
Mrs. Blackwood
CONTENTS: Murder - Mentions of SA - Sexism - Harassment (?) - swear words - Mentions of potential sex
★☽A/N: I really hope this gets attention, also please be aware of the contents!! It might be graphic. Enjoy!!
┉┈◈◉◈┈┉
Abeautiful lady stood in front of the festival, long black silky hair with such a beautiful dress that amazes men who looked her way. Sadly she was taken, married to one of the town’s many authorities in the government. The town, Azera, was small and was managed by a small group of people, 5-8 people and one president that was changed every year, though the government was rather- Cruel to the women. Treating them badly and even harassed and assaulted some younger women and none of the governors did anything about it! How cruel can they be?
The only reason why some women are protected from these cruel assaults, was because they were wives to the governors… But they weren’t saved as well, they were cruelly abused and mistreated by their awful husbands who thought of them as nothing more than a toy, servant, and tool.
Many men have tried to assault this black haired beauty but was left to burn at the stake by the wife’s husband. Hale Blackwood, the top governor. The most recent one was a young new governor who was of low ranking, he thought he had authority over women who were married to the other governors.
How foolish.
Just after he tried to assault Hale’s wife, he was sentenced to death by being hung up in front of the entire town as the president stated, “This is your consequences if you dare assault one of our women! They are ours and ours only to control and do whatever we like too, especially those who think they are higher than us to think they could do whatever they like.”
Hale’s wife looked at this scene in pure horror, ‘Is this what they do to others? …How cruel can men be? Thinking we are toys…’ She was disgusted by men. They think they have superiority over women. ‘I’m going to kill, every, last, one, of them.’ She has set a goal for herself, to rid her town of these cruel men.
Day by day, she would flirt with the lower governors of Azera, to simply have them executed by the end of the day. It was going according to plan, 4 of the lowest governors have been executed which left 4 more and the president. She was going to do it as smoothly as ever.
◈◉◈
Mrs. Blackwood wore a stunning tight red stress that showed her chest a little with a slit on the dress, showing her legs. She was stunning and attracted men’s eyes little by little as she walked along the ball’s floor. “She’s so fucking hot, I wonder if her husband won’t mind if we made love with her in our suite?” A man jokingly whispered to his friend, both of them chuckling together as they eyed the lady walking with such elegance.
‘This is going according to plan’ She thought as she walked towards her target. “Reggie! How lovely to see you at the ball.” She charmfully said to Reggie, one of the top governor's of Aszera. “Ah, Mrs. Blackwood… How lovely to see you.” He charmfully, gently grabbed her hand and kissed on the back of it as a gesture.
“Oh it’s good to see you too..” She cooed with a smile. “Why don’t we have a dance? Hm?” She suggested with a hint of affectionate flirt. The male fell for it carelessly and took her hand to take her to the dance floor
They swept the floor with such a clean and elegant dance, gliding to the dance floor like a pair of swans. “So, may I ask where’s your husband?” Reggie asked with a soft voice as they danced, “He’s… rather busy.” She whispered into his ear, “So, why don’t we have a bit of fun? How about that, handsome?” She cooed. He grinned and grabbed her tightly, “ Yes.” He agreed and she faked a smile.
‘Such a naive man, consumed with power..’ She smirked, as he grabbed her hand and they walked out of the ball. There was no need to stay at the ball, afterall, it was just a huge ball to celebrate a governor's birthday.
Just as the man was gonna open her dress, his head between her legs, she grabbed a knife from the pillow and sat up quickly and stabbed him on the neck, blood gushing out like a fountain. He screamed like a child, “Y-You bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you!” He angriluy yelled, his whole body getting painted with his blood. “You men are disgusting, thinking women as an object.” That was the last words he heard before a gunshot pierced his head. BANG!
He fell towards her with a thud. “Digusting!!! His blooding is gonna stain my legs!” She yelped, quickly pushing the man’s dead body away but ended up dropping him on the floor with another thud. “Ugh, let’s just get this over with.” She sighed, standing up and picked him up to put him back on the bed. She grabbed thick gray ribbons from her purse and started to tie his hands and legs to each pole of the bed. Grabbing the knife she stabbed his neck with and stabbing it on his chest, more blood gushing out.
She then walked away from the scene and to the bathroom. She grabbed the exact replica of her dress from her purse and changed from her blood stained dress. She touched up her makeup and did a small twirl in the mirror. “Perfect.” She smiled, walking out gracefully, leaving Reggie naked, bloody, and dead. Luckily she walked out and was out of sight when they found his body. They thought a man killed him, but they were wrong.
After that little act, she started to kill every governor she seduced. And everytime, she was not caught. The day she killed her husband, was the day they realized.
It was a simple act really, but was somehow caught by the highest governor.
“Hang her!”
“Slut killer!”
“Digusting woman!”
Those were words of men from the twon, yelling at the woman who was making her way to her punishment of death.
Her death was horrifying to all. Why? Because, when she was about to be hanged, her laugh haunted everyone, it was sickening, dark, laugh. Her last words was “I will forever haunt you, may bad luck follow you and your male ancestors. I hope you all rot in hell with me, Lady Roseta Blackwood!” Before she jumped and the rope around her neck tighten as she fell off stage but was caught by the rope, bring herself to her downfall.
┉┈◈◉◈┈┉
★☽A/N: I didn’t know what to name the man Lady Blackwood seduced so I just named him after Reggie from Riverdale since it was a pretty decent name to call him, lolol. Hope you enjoyed it!
Demons and Drag pt. 4
Jem is sitting on their couch peacefully sipping their tea and watching Anitri swoon over the guys on TV when Surri walks into the room, phone in hand and a bored look on her face.
“Anitri, quit your drooling, we’ve got a job.”
Anitri whined and slide off the couch onto the floor.
“Do we have to go now? They’re almost to the part where they get shirtless.”
Jem groaned and turned off the TV, making Anitri yell.
“What’re y’all doing this time?” Jem said putting the remote behind them so Anitri wouldn’t grab it.
Surri glanced up from her phone and leaned on the wall.
“We were told that this guy; Mickey, they call him, is testing lethal injections on randos on the street. Has been for about two years, but the cops turn a blind eye cause he’s a white pretty boy.”
Jem’s brow lowered as their look of mild interest shifted to utter disgust. Jem looked away for a few seconds before their face lit up with what appeared to be an idea.
“Can I come?”
Surri was taken aback.
Not by the question itself, but the fact that Jem asked. Jem doesn’t ask for anything.
“Uhhh, sure? I guess it’s fine, but you got to bring something to defend yourself.”
Surri just looked at Jem.
Waiting.
Waiting to see what they came up with.
And much to Surri’s surprise, Jem reached in between the couch cushions and pulled out a bat.
“Let’s go.” They said, and mad their way to the door.
“Where the Hell did that come from” Anitri called from the floor.
Surri shook of her surprise and walked over to her brother and pulled him of the ground by his jacket.
“Listen to the scary Enby.”
***
Jem, Anitri, and Surri were sitting at the bar of Meh discussing there plan.
“So when we find Mickey, Anitri will walk up to him and act like the twink he is. If our source is correct, Mickey will be to enthralled to notice us anything around him, so we can shoot the dart and it will inject the poison.” Surri explained. “Any question?”
Jem shook their head and glanced towards Anitri, who was touching up his hair in the bar mirror.
“Sis, what if the source is wrong?”
Surri pursed her lips as she thought for a moment.
“Well we’ll be there if anything goes wrong, if he doesn’t have a react to you ‘wiles’” Jem gags “then just distract him until I can get a clear shot” Surri told him.
He turns to face her.
“It’ll be fine, we got you.”
He glances at Jem and they nod.
“Lets do this.”
***
They’re strolling down the street, Anitri in a grey sweater and shorts, his hair swept to the side, his tail swaying, and his glasses slumped forward in his nose.
Surri was in her normal black dress, but with a dark, red jacket today. Her hair was pulled back into a small bun, showing the tattoo on her neck. A spider with an M on the thorax. In her jacket was her concealed dart gun.
Jem was wearing a green tank top and maroon pants under a long trench coat which concealed their bat. They had their hair tucked away in a moss green beanie.
“What does this guy look like again?” Jem asked, tucking a of green back into their hat.
“A Kyle.” Surri said.
Jem snorted a laugh while Anitri shuddered.
They turned a corner and they saw a guy wearing a tank and shorts, holding a kitten and a syringe. He looked as if he was about to use it on the kitten, which was meowing and squirming.
Surri watched as Jem shot forward and smacked the guy in the back of the head with their bat.
He dropped the cat and it scampered into a nearby bush.
“What the hell!!!” The guy said, turning towards the group, and Jem hit him again, this time in the face.
The guy, who Surri could now tell was Mickey hit the deck.
Jem just kept smacking the guy, muttering about how sick you have to be to try and harm an innocent kitten.
Anitri shook off his shock and rushed forward to pull her away from the now bloody and battered Mickey.
Jem huffed, handed the bat to Anitri and calmly walked over to the bush the kitten hid in.
While Jem looked through the bush, Surri walked up to the pile of blood and limbs that was Mickey, who was surprisingly enough still breathing.
Anitri looked at her, a question in his eyes.
She looked from Anitri, back to the battered form. With a roll of her eyes, she drew her gun and shot the dude in the forehead.
Anitri and Surri watched as the form shook and then stilled. Anitri was the first to walk over to Jem, who was now sitting on the ground next to the bush with a wiggly, ginger furball.
Anitri sat next to them and looked at the kitten. It had a scar above it’s right eye, which was green, the other eye being brown. It had a clump of thick fur in the middle of his head that looked like a Mohawk.
Jem held him up to show Anitri. Surri also turned to pay attention.
“This is Westley. He will be comin home with us.”
Surri gave a confused look.
‘Another cat?’ she thought to herself.
Surri crouched to get a better look at the kitten. He mewed at her in the tiniest little cat voice she’d ever heard and Surri decided that this cat was her new favorite roommate.
a rather specific prompt for you :)
whumpee is/ was trained and used a a guard dog. during their time with their master they sustained an injury that causes them to not be able to fulfill their job properly anymore. still wounded, they get thrown out, chained in some allay. whumpee expects to die alone and cold, when caretaker comes along and accidentally stumbles across the abandoned whumpee. they (caretaker) think whumpee is just a regular pet and don’t realize they have a still dangerous guard dog at their feet and decide to rescue them and help them recover. whumpee has never experienced anything like this kindness, especially after becoming so useless, so (after having lost their old master) they immediately bond to caretaker as their new master, and would do anything to protect and please them
tw pet whump, amputation, abandonment, past trauma, broken bones, medical setting, caretaker new master, murder, gore, dehumanisation
"Oh, dear..." Caretaker crouched down by the shivering figure, putting the back of their hand against their forehead. They looked... half-dead, honestly, so the feverish warmth eminating from them was almost a relief. "Who did this to you...?"
The poor thing whined, and they reminded Caretaker of a wounded dog; but maybe that was just from how they were chained up. This was all so horrible.
"Okay, don't be scared. I'm gonna get you out of the alley and to a vet, alright? We'll get you all fixed up."
Another whine, and Caretaker suddenly realised there were other issues apart from the visible sickness. The pet's ankle... it was twisted in a way they'd never seen before. It was swollen, a mix of deep red and purple, bent in a way no healthy foot was supposed to.
"Oh... Oh, this is way worse than I thought, isn't it?" They immediately regretted the comment when the thing looked up at them with those wide, fearful eyes, probably expecting them to just give up now and leave them. "That's okay!" they added hastily. "It's okay. Nothing that can't be fixed! I... I hope... I'll call someone for help."
-
So they'd been wrong. Some things were in fact beyond saving, and Whumpee's foot turned out to be one of them. Amputation, prosthetics... Whumpee was handling it badly.
"I know," Caretaker soothed. "I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But it'll be better later on, I promise, the doctors know what they're doing."
Whumpee let out a soft whimper, a scared one, and Caretaker thought their heart was going to shatter even further. The pet hadn't uttered a single word yet, — maybe they couldn't? — but their face was expressive enough to make Caretaker tear up.
"I'll be here," they said gently. "Every step of the way, yeah? I'll be here for you. I'll help. We'll figure it out."
How? Caretaker didn't know. They weren't planning on adopting a pet, but... they couldn't just leave Whumpee alone after all this. They had an obligation, a responsibility.
If anything, Whumpee's awe-filled eyes just made them more determined.
-
"One foot in front of the other. Slowly. There you go."
Physical therapy was a lot, but Whumpee seemed dead set on achieving every goal weeks earlier than planned. The staff had said it would take four to eight weeks for Whumpee to be able to walk again... and many more before they fully got used to their artificial foot. They were out and about within two weeks, much to the dismay of said staff.
"They'll hurt themself," they'd said. "They should be resting."
"They're very eager to come home, I guess," Caretaker had replied awkwardly, but Whumpee had nodded along, completely serious.
So now they were walking along the corridors, Caretaker supporting Whumpee's weight less and less as they learned the ways and limits of their new life.
-
"I know it's not super fancy..." Caretaker opened the door and stood aside, motioning Whumpee inside. "But I guess it's... homey."
The pet surveyed their surroundings curiously, then turned back towards Caretaker with a bright smile. If they'd had a tail, Caretaker wagered they would've been wagging it.
It made them smile, too. "You like it?"
Whumpee nodded enthusiastically, walking over to the new pet bed Caretaker had bought just a week prior. They carefully set their belongings down next to it, — a shirt, a pair of pants, a pair of socks, and a collar — then made themself comfortable. Testing it out.
"I think we'll get along nicely," Caretaker commented absently. "I mean, I like you a lot. And you seem to like me. I don't see how this could go wrong."
-
Caretaker couldn't believe their eyes.
This couldn't be real.
Was that blood? Was that blood on Whumpee's clothes, and hands, and... face?
When the pet spotted them they immediately fell to their knees, whimpering in terror. They tried to wipe their hands on their victim's shirt, to no avail.
"Whumpee, what– what's– what's going on...?"
Whumpee was crying now, getting more and more desperate about ridding themself of the blood, as though that was the only evidence as to what they'd done. As though they could erase it all, if only they managed to erase the stains.
Caretaker walked closer, eyes wide with shock and horror. So much blood. So much gore.
Their sweet pet had done this?
"Why...?"
Whumpee scrambled to pick up some sort of equipment, struggling to hold it between bloody fingers. A lockpick, Caretaker noted distantly. They put it down on the floor in front of their feet, then quickly grabbed something else: a knife, this time. They put it next to the lockpick. Then they crawled back, flattening themself against the floor like a dog who knew it'd done something bad, whining as they waited for the verdict.
The stranger had been a burglar. Was it... self-defence? No, this had been a brutal murder.
"You're– you're a guard dog," Caretaker said softly, because they didn't think their voice could handle anything more. They got but a whimper in response. "This... Oh, dear. This is not... This is not good."
~
general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps @anonymous-tiangou @whump-kitty