“You’re not going to kill me-” xe starts, cut off with a gurgling gasp as the vigilante put the long blade through xir throat.

“I’m not [Hero] or [Villain]. I will kill you, and I’ll do it fast enough you can’t run.” ze says “Duh.”

“[Hero] isn’t coming for you.” whispers the- whoever the fuck they are. The vigilante gave up on trying to identify every new goddamned player a long time ago “Xe doesn’t care, probably hasn’t even noticed you’re gone. If anything, xe’d be enjoying the break. We both know you’re not pure enough for xir.”

the vigilante breathes through the goddamned pain. Fuck this asshole.

“Maybe.” comes a second voice “But I’m rather fond of this fool.” says [Villain] “And I don’t like it when some second-rate villain touches my things.”

“I didn’t do this.” says the vigilante, coming up behind the hero “Shit, I don’t think I have the stomach for that, even if it came to mind.”

“I know. You’re brutal but you never cross over into…” the hero looks up “You’d never do something like this.”

The body of the mayor swung listlessly from where it hung from the flagpole. Xir lungs had been pulled out through xir back and there were ropes of intestines dangling from where xir belly must have been cut.

“Xe was an ass. But xe didn’t deserve that.”

“I don’t know,” says the vigilante “if xe was dead first, maybe. Mutilating the body is gross but not like, twisted. But live… No. No one deserves that. It’s kinda of sweet though, in a twisted way.”

“Eh?”

“It’s a love letter, [Hero]. To you- you’re [Villain]’s angel, aren’t you? That’s what ze calls you?”

“I’m being murdered!” “Walk it off.” “You can’t just walk off being murdered, HELP ME!” “I walked off being murdered.” “Did you have a KNIFE sticking out of your CHEST?!” “No, I had all of my internal organs microwaved instantly. My corpse didn’t look pretty.” “WHAT?!”

i mean knife in chest syndrome could feasibly be survivable

tails-of-a-dragon-rider:

corvidprompts:

Xe panted, blood bubbling out from between slack lips, jaw hanging heavy with the weight of a bruise and a fractured jaw. Xe lived, barely it seemed, but xe did. Again. Xe always lived.

After what seemed like an hour of lying on cold concrete, they felt that their bones were regenerated enough for them to push themselves into sitting against the wall. They swore under their breath, squinting as the nearby streetlight glinting into the alley nearly blinded them. Their stomach churned with nausea, but a few deep breaths soon calmed that down.

They went through their injury checklist, a unsurprisingly difficult thing to do with their one unbroken arm. Head, a few bumps, but no blood. Jaw, dislocated, possible fracture, knitting up as well as it could. Torso, one of their knifes got uncomfortably close to cutting a deep gash into their stomach, but their magic was healing it up nicely. Arms, one broken and some defensive wounds. Legs, relatively unmarred excepting a few bruises.

Using the wall as support, they pushed themself into a stand. Their legs shook like they were kinda newborn animal. A lamb? A horse? They didn’t have time to think about what kind of f*cking animal they were, they were tired, they were hungry, they wanted a nap. Much more important than f*cking baby animals walking, Aston.

They took a few steps forward and after nearly falling flat on their face and puking up some of their, still weird, black and glowing gold blood, decided that maybe, just maybe, that was a bad plan. They leaned against the wall, pulling out a small crystal from their coat pocket and throwing it on the ground. The portal that opened, thankfully, was much dimmer than the streetlight.

They walked through, walking into their living room and flopping as gently as possible onto their old leather couch. They panted, a bit of blood bubbling out of their slack lips, dripping glowing particles onto the cushion. Their bruised and fractured jaw was hanging heavy and loose.

They lived, barely it seemed, but they did. Again. They always lived. Of course, sometimes, like y’know now, they wished they weren’t immortal and could actually go to a hospital for all of this s*it, but noooo. They had to wait until their magic had healed them, which took at least a day. Bluh.

They closed their eyes, willing themself to go to sleep. As their consciousness slowly faded, a last thought was made in their muddled mess of a brain organ.

I hope that lady got away safe.

YooO! This is so cool!
also no more black friday sales/ wouldve been a hilarious last line but i like the somber feels this piece gives off

hey! i’m writing a scene where a girls 2 love interests are fighting, and it’s gonna get real bloody and gross, but i want her to walk in a see it and try to make them stop, but i don’t know how she’d be able to do it since she’s not skilled in combat or anything? she tried throwing apples but they ignored it, she’s going to cry b/c they’re pm killing each other so now i need something with a bigger impact, preferably not having her faint and them come to her rescue lmao

oh my god love interests what the fuck

anyway if you want her to get them to stop throw violence, an untrained armed combatant is still dangerous to a trained unarmed combatant. Maybe not incredibly so, but enough that they’ll need to focus on her. 

also one of those airhorns that makes a loud noise might be a good option. Startling some people with a loud noise is probably a better option especially if they have combat experience and she doesnt.

Or she could like. Leave. Let the two take it out of each others hide. Fighting to the point of severely injuring each other should be their business- why does she have to provide the emotional labour in response to their physical violence?

She could also try and physically separate them by jumping on one of their backs. No combat training needed, though she might get thrown across the room a little/ a lottle

If she threw an apple and they ignored it she could trough something bigger. Haul a chair at a motherfucker. 

I hope this is what you wanted my guy