wotanon | Prompt Meme: Gore Prompts

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Prompt Meme: Gore Prompts

General Rules:

1. Don’t be a dick.

2. No kink shaming. People like what they like.

Requesting Rules:

1. Submit a prompt here for gorey fics. You can do this on or off anon.

2. Please include the characters or pairings you want to see in the subject header, as well as a kink or situation.

Example: Pythia/Exael; college roommate AU

3. In the body of the post, you can go more into what you want from the fill, but try to give the writer some wiggle room.

Example: I’d love it if this fic could be fluffy and cute. Bonus points if Exael asks Pythia on a date to the ice-skating rink during the winter holidays!

4. One request per submission, please! If you have more than one request, post them separately.

5. Try to warn for any potentially triggering content.

6. Don’t forget to fill out requests, too!

Filling Rules:

1. Please reply directly to the request with your fill. Fics and art are both okay!

2. Please include the word Fill and the title of your fill in the subject header of the reply. If the fill is multiple parts, indicated the part number.

Example: Fill: And They Were Roommates (1/3)

3. Please warn for any potential triggering content.

4. Try to make sure you’re giving the requester what they wanted. If someone asks for arranged marriage, don’t spring vore on them without warning, and vice versa.

5. If you have a great idea that you really want to run with, but it includes other kinks or situations that were unasked for, you can reply to the person who requested and ask if that’s okay before you start writing.

6. When you’re finished filling, please consider submitting your fic as fanmail to the involved characters!

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Same feel as this fanmail from way back when, but in fic form:

[It's a very detailed and gorey fantasy, detailing everything the writer would do if they could lock Hurricane in their basement. It's 6 pages long, both sides, and at the end there are a bunch of hearts that appear to have been drawn in blood.]

Bonuses:
-He's there for at least a few weeks
-Beating + starvation + duct tape binding
-Nemesis shows up to pull off a rescue
-Hurt/comfort

Let Eichi's wildest dreams come true. Let him eat an angel.

Intensity discovers that, order to become the Ultimate King of Hell, he has to permanently kill everyone he cares about one by one.

This includes all of his employees (B, C, A, Hurricane, Talon, Cardigan, Shrike, Anubis, Persephone, Lucifel, Yvette, Kohime, Cobalt, 99, Tatsuya, ...who else? idk,) plus Nemesis, Man Eater, Maki, King, Blue Eyes, and finally, Angel.

How does he kill each one?

Graphic guro is not necessarily but obviously there's plenty of violence to go around.

SFW or NSFW either is fine

Thank you, glorious anon. I tried to do as many as I could.

Gore and violence is not overly graphic, but contains the following warnings:
asphyxiation, beheading, blood, broken bones, burial, captivity, corpse manipulation, dismemberment, drowning, forced suicide, gun violence, organ removal

Victim Listing (by part):
- Requiem, Nemesis, Hurricane
- Talon, Yvette
- Persephone
- Cardigan, Shrike

- Kohime
- Cobalt, Anubis, Nine-Nine, Luficel (gore warning)
- FiN

- C, B, Silver, Gold
- Maki, Blue Eyes
- King
- Little☆Red, Man☆Eater, Angel (gore warning)

The meddlers had to go first.

They were always in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, they were the most likely to stumble upon what he was doing. To find out the steep price he had agreed to.

So they had to go first.

He tapped the edge of his desk nervously as he formulated the text for the first of many lies. His ridiculous stupid lies. But they foolishly trusted him. So when he claimed he had a lead in contacting their angel friend, they came when he called.

Requiem had to be dealt with first. She trusted him the least. Synthetic sunlight - the first test run.

Thank whatever-name-he-would-take-at-the-end-of-this that it worked.

Nemesis retaliated next. Just as expected.

She really shouldn't have trusted the new arm he made her. Shouldn't have trusted him with anything that hooked up to her nervous system. She didn't even make it two steps.

Which just left Hurricane.

Poor betrayed and sobbing Hurricane.

He didn't want to believe he was capable of this. He wanted to think this was all part of some grand master plan to save them all. And so he pulled his punches.

It wasn't. He shouldn't have.

Requiem was left in an abandoned building, artificially generated sunlight sapping her strength until she was little more than a charred and smoking skeleton.

Nemesis in a shallow grave in some unmarked location.

And Hurricane at the bottom of Tokyo Bay. Undying.

When whispered rumors of their disappearance started, he played his role of outrage admirably. He circulated the flow of information just as he always had. Rescuers wandered to and from the hotel in packs, always checking in with him. That made it easier to slip in false leads of his own. No one suspected a thing.

The first step.

There was no turning back now.

-----

He fucked up. He fucked up. He fucked up.

And Talon and Yvette were on to him. They knew the lies didn't add up.

Fuck. He didn't want to lose them at this early stage. They were valuable. Too valuable. But he didn't have a choice.

So he let them corner him.

They called him to "talk." Let him pick the spot. He chose a graveyard on the outskirts of Tokyo-F, rows of stone children statues adorned with bright red hats and matching red scarves. A tribute to the lost. Completely devoid of any technology for miles around. They arrived cautious but not hostile. At least, not at the start.

He didn't waste any time.

Talon was shot point blank between the eyes as soon as he landed on the stone walkway. Yvette puppeteered him in retaliation. He expected that, too. But he had also devised a counter since their last encounter.

She couldn't puppeteer both him and Blue Eyes.

He stared down at their still and cooling bodies, swallowing down the nausea. He couldn't keep hiding people like he did the first batch. The risk of them being found was too high.

So he dragged them to the back row of statues. Found two that were just the right size. Flesh merged easily with stone, the faces eerily taking on the appearance of his victims. Corpses were inanimate after all.

Try and have pep!pep! revive that.

-----

"How did you figure it out?"

He remained silent, face impassive as it always was.

"Is it because you can talk to the dead?"

His eyes flickered with something. Finally, a show of emotion? No. No, that wasn't right.

That's not how he wanted to remember him.

Branches entrapped his limbs in a way that could only be described as elegant. The strongest one wrapped delicately around that slender throat of his.

Truly a work of art - a pinned and delicate butterfly, caught in the maze of his own creation. He briefly considered spinning the tale of the Minotaur to his captive as a parting gift. How appropriate in this situation. And how ironic that the way they met should be the way they part.

But there was no time. No time for such indulgences.

"I'll take that as a yes."

And so with a sharp tug, the branch tightened. Cutting off his air supply.

"Good-bye, Maiden."

-----

"Commander, I require your assistance."

They nodded, firm and supportive as he laid out the mission. It would be risky. All high-stakes and high-rewards. The exact type of mission that they always enjoyed back at home.

It was time to let the rest of the production know that he was making his move. That he'd signed away his soul in blood and darkness. And what better way than to best a future -- no, this demon wasn't worth being called an opponent. What better way than to crush a real demon into the dirt.

He laid out the blueprints of the demon's quaint villa in Hell. Described the artifact that they were to retrieve. One that would give them, there was no more them no more us, an edge in the battle to come. He explained the source of the demon's power and carefully detailed the demon's weak points. As thorough as always.

Except for perhaps one crucial detail.

The one that left Cardigan's body broken and spent, now just one more corpse littering the alleys of Vengeance Hell. A trophy of the demon's allies, silent and still for eternity.

Shrike was the only one to make it back.

She handed him the artifact, proud and strong as she held back her tears.

He nodded solemnly. Thanked her for her hard work as he ushered her to sit. Offered her something warm and soothing to drink and calm her nerves.

She never woke up after that.

It was her own fault.

If she had been better, stronger, faster, smarter -- this wouldn't have happened.

If she didn't fill him with a slow burning anger every time he looked at her. Like he was looking in a fucking mirror.

If they both weren't failures.

He handed her the latest weapon prototype. It was sleek and smooth and silver and everything she liked about the last one. Except better.

She was thrilled. Enthusiastic. The rumors whispered about him didn't phase her in the slightest. In fact, she enjoyed his company more because of them. Tossed the occasional jab his way about how he was really living up to that creepy mad scientist reputation.

She didn't know the half of it.

The weapon vaporized her instantly when she tried to use it.

They'll never find the body. There just wasn't one to be found.

"If you're too weak to make sure your rival is yours and yours alone, then what good are you?"

Though he stared angrily at the scorch mark on the earth that ws the last remnants of his Force Captain, it was clear that the words and sharp tone were not aimed at her.

The laughter that followed was neither safe or sane.

-----

His Servant knelt before him as he perched atop his floating lab chair, one leg carefully crossed over the other. Close enough to kiss his shoe if he so desired it.

He didn't. This was business.

"Did you complete your task?"

He steepled his hands, revealing a three-headed dragon tattoo on the back of his flesh palm. Or correction - former three-headed dragon tattoo. The left-most dragon was now a pale blue scar that blended in with the color of his skin.

"Yes, Master."

The Servant brought forth a heavy burlap sack that had been propped up against his side. With very little ceremony, he turned the bag upside-down to dump its contents out.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

Three heads rolled across the tile floor.

His former trusted associates. The three he had tossed the ante of his life to. Even before they knew about the existence of Lilith.

In retrospect, it was cowardly of him to not do the dirty work himself. Disrespectful even. But with people getting more and more suspicious of his actions, he had little choice but to rely on his Servant for help.

And that help would be repaid accordingly.

"Rise, my Servant."

His Servant rose to his full height as the Master also rose from his chair. With a cold appreciative smile, he rested his hand on his Servant's shoulder. And for a moment, he gave him a genuine look of praise.

No. Now was not the time.

"I have one task left for you to do."

The Servant inclined his head, ever polite.

"What is it, Master?"

A pause. And a wicked smile.

"Do the same to yourself."

The sharp blue glow of the middle dragon tattoo accompanied the spoken command. And then it too faded to the color of cool flesh.

His Servant nodded solemnly, reaching up to gingerly touch faded scars upon his throat. And after a steadying intake of breathe, undid the healing that had mended his body together after so many terrible games and trials. Blood poured from injuries uncountable as his body hit the floor with a heavy thump.

His Master took a step back so it wouldn't splatter on his shoes.

And then, as one might admire a particularly well-done manicure, he considered the last remaining Command Seal on the back of his hand.

Better save that for emergencies in case Lucifel did attempt to carry out what he started before he was brought here. In the meantime, he was running out of places to stash bodies. Even only parts of them.

-----

No one comes to visit Future is Now anymore.

Perhaps it's because the door to the dorm is welded shut, bright black and yellow tape indicating that it's down for maintenance. And since no one has seen hide nor hair of any FiNs in the past few days, there is no one to repair it.

Perhaps it's because no matter how many times you push the button for the floor, the elevator skips it. It never stops there.

Or perhaps it's because if one did manage to break their way inside, they will find nothing but corpses. A moment of violence and chaos that stains the bright silver walls red with blood.

Shine protectively draped over Silence's body, the number of his scars double hers. Duality slumped near the entrance with marks indicating that he scored multiple hits on their attacker before he was overwhelmed. Medusa and Zephyr stabbed and tossed aside like two rag dolls. And Erika just... dismembered.

Their robot assistants, like so many scattered broken toys, lay in metal heaps around them.

Prepare yourself, Imeeji.

End game has begun.

The tea is sickeningly sweet.

He hates it.

But he suffers through the sugary concoction and the high pitched and shrill whine of his newest demon underling as she fusses over B's outfit for the umpteenth time that day. The overly glittery purple wizard's hat, acceptable not five minutes ago, is tossed upon the table as she trades it in for something in black and golds. B tirelessly accepts her hemming and hawing.

He doesn't have much choice with his ankle shackled to the table like it is.

Bored, he picks up the hat and hangs it over the gaping neck of the headless body sitting across from him. Surely something that gaudy was more befitting of a god to be. Yes. That would do very nicely.

He gestures to his companion's own neglected cup of tea.

"Drink. You're being a poor guest."

With shaking hands, his former head of PR does as he is told. The liquid is scalding. It burns him. His ex-boss continues talking as if he doesn't care. Because he doesn't.

"Two is a little lonely for a tea party, don't you think?"

Is he talking to B? His new demon? Impossible to tell.

"Some new dolls should be arriving today. Two adorable foxes. Make sure they receive an appropriate welcome."

B snaps to look over at him, eyes wide. Horrified.

He smiles back. All teeth.

"I'm just giving you what you wanted."

He did promise him that they would live together happily ever after.

-----

She betrayed him.

They both betrayed him.

He coughs up blood, the physical scars on his neck already mending from the deep marks of the garrote. She hadn't held back. But then she never did.

How unfortunate that the smalls signs had given her away. Those resigned glances when she thought he wasn't looking. The unexpected request for a night out after leaving him to his own devices for days and weeks on end. That was her downfall. Unbeknownst to her. Every day, every defeated opponent made him that much stronger.

If only she had acted when she first become suspicious. Saved by the power of love.

How ironic.

He leans down to close her eyes, feigning the appearance of peaceful sleep. Though that was impossible with each limb askew at the wrong angle. All major bones broken one by painstaking one. He couldn't help himself. It had been so satisfying to see her rise to her feet, legs broken or not. To have her challenge him again and again and again and again. A vision of vengeance indeed.

Even when his beloved dragon had come to her aid. He'd had to put her down as well. But what chance did a creature of wire and electricity have against him?

As he turns, a ghostly figure appears before him. Long flowing white hair. Blue eyes. It's not the first time he had seen her.

But today was definitely going to be the last.

The apparition reaches out to him, expression a mixture of longing and concern. Even after all this, she still believed in him. Ridiculous. He slaps the hand away, arm passing through air.

She looks at him, disappointment evident. And turns away.

There was no saving him from the darkness this time.

-----

He taps the well worn cards against his chin as those glorious hateful red eyes stare him down. He knows by now. He has to.

Then why isn't he doing anything about it?

The glance down at his meaningless hand is just for show. Always for show. He calls for a card he doesn't even have.

"Got any Kings?"

The reply is sharp as his opponent glances down at his own cards, smile tight.

"Go Fish."

Long trembling fingers reach for the top of the deck. He's close to victory. So close he can taste it. So where was it? The final trap card. The cocky grin and haughty laugh as the tables were turned on him.

He draws the card.

It never comes.

He shows the card to his opponent in a overly dramatic flourish. The Ace of Spades. Impossible considering that King already has two pairs of aces laid out before him.

"You---!"

His rival's movements are quick and sure, incredibly so. The hilt of his Heart Weapon already materializing in his hand as he closes the gap between them.

But it is so so effortless to tear a card in half.

The two ripped pieces of paper flutter feather-light atop the fallen corpse.

"I win."

-----

"I'll stop you."

She says with fierce determination in her eyes. The effect is dimmed by the fact that the star-speckled night sky is clearly visible through her pale colorless skin.

His smile is equally cruel as it is relieved as his heel digs into the back of Man☆Eater's broken skull. An equally broken hand twitches, still curled around that of his sister's as she stares up at the moon with unblinking eyes. Her final expression is one of surprise and giddy delight, lips twisted as her body lies torn to shreds by dozens and hundreds of sharp wires.

It had been easy. Too easy to catch the both of them unaware.

They had all been so trusting as he lead them farther and farther away from the familiar lights and sounds of Tokyo-F. As the skyline shimmered when they entered his new domain. They never questioned it. Questioned him.

Is this was it meant to be family?

Man☆Eater's final struggles still as one last vicious length of cable digs into his chest cavity, ripping out his treacherous heart. His weakness. It rolls and lands with a squelch in front of him.

He crushes that under his heel, too.

Angel wings flare in defiance, unperturbed that she's having a hard time remembering the names of the broken bodies before her. Of her - her what again? -- sneering down at her.

"I'll find you. And I'll stop you."

He reaches out in a mockery of tenderness, fingers threading through silver hair so faint he can barely distinguish one strand from another. A final pat to the top of her head.

She doesn't flinch.

With a laugh that she knew so well though it was never directed at her, he shoves her away and she shatters. A thousand glittering fragments that fade into silver pinpoints of light.

The final piece.

"I'm counting on it."

This was excellent. It was like one long series of increasingly painful gut punches, and I loved it all.

Some circumstance leads to Harpy trying to test whether she can kill one or both of the members of Avante she didn't manage to kill in Viewscream. Bonus if whatever happens is messy.

C loses his head. Literally. But for some reason he can't be killed by decapitation, so now he has to exist as a body and a disembodied head until he can get someone from sensitIV to help him. Head chasing shennanigans ensue.

It's a special occasion, so Eichi takes his time to make sure it's a day to remember.

He picks his recipes with care.

He accounts for every ounce of meat; he butchers the limbs with hands that are surprisingly gentle. When he's finished, he packs what he thinks he can't eat in plastic bags, labels them, and puts them in the freezer for later.

Even with all the leftovers, there's plenty for today.

He'll start with eggrolls, the tender meat from the wings minced and mixed with finely sliced vegetables before he wraps and deep fries them. He'll make a sweet chili sauce, for dipping.

Next, he'll prepare a salad, arugula and watercress, the bitterness of the greens offset with bright pops of dried cranberries and a light, refreshing vinaigrette. The meat for this dish will be sliced thin and delicate, marinated and flash fried.

The main course is steak, naturally. He couldn't possibly have this meal without steak. He selects the cut carefully, and he goes light on the seasoning; with fresh meat, less is more. He'll serve it on a bed of polenta, with broiled mushrooms and a side of bleu cheese butter.

Dessert is a challenge, but Eichi is up to the task. After consulting several cookbooks about how best to utilize meat in a dessert, he decides on brown sugar ice cream, topped with crispy bits of caramelized fat.

When it's all finished, it will be a feast fit for kings.

It will be a feast fit for him, and with the freezer overflowing, there will be plenty more to follow.

Eichi sets the table, fine china and linen napkins. He leaves a prayer book open, the proper page marked with a velvet ribbon.

God created the founder of this feast, after all. It's only fitting to give thanks.

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Prompt Meme: Gore Prompts

Rando crazy fan/Hurricane, Nemesis; kidnapping and torture

Eichi/Mehniel, vore

Intensity + his CR

Deprecation Path (1/4)

Deprecation Path (2/4)

Deprecation Path (3/4)

Deprecation Path (4/4)

Re: Deprecation Path (4/4)

Yugi & King, body horror/body sharing horror

Harpy/(Cardigan and/or Shrike)

C; body horror/candy gore

Hadassah/Dva Vore

Fill: A Heavenly Feast (1/1)