The Grotesque Meme

[shark_girl]

WARNING: This meme focuses on guro, or grotesque, kinks. This means it concentrates on sexualized violence. This meme will inherently include themes on death, mutilation, amputation, abortion and miscarriage, executions, and interrogations. It will potentially include themes on the following; dub-con, non-con, power-play, child abuse, incest, and mind-fuck. If you cannot handle those sorts of themes, or are under-aged, please turn back now.


GROTESQUE MEME

(Because it's Halloween, so why not?)
( Reposted/Swiped Shamelessly from April and originally from kaufhaus )


Perhaps you like a little blood and torture with your pleasure.

What to do:

1.Post with your character and it would be helpful to include name and canon in the subject line.

2.Please put in the subject line if you have preferences in the following:
a.Sex and/or gender
b.Limits on age
c.Prefer to not do certain scenarios
d.Want a rating limit or fade-to-black
e.Giving or receiving; basically if you’ll be the one receiving or doing the selected kink
f.Anything else you want to make known right away
Not that all of these are necessary (or you may want to add more) but it is more helpful for all involved if you give people a general idea of what you want.

3.Tag by either selecting a number(s) from both/or the lists of kinks and settings below or you can go to random.org for a random number generator. For example if you have selected kink 1 and setting 22 you can put “1;22” in your subject line. If you only want to play kink 6, only put “6” in your subject line then.

4.Have fun!

Scenarios:

Kinks:

1. Eye on you. Eye Gouging. Perhaps it was an accident, or you wanted a token of your lover to keep. Either way, it’s coming out. Now is the jar ready? Or will you be crushing it between your fingers?

2. The rabbit done died. Abortion/Miscarriage. Perhaps things didn’t go to plan, or you just couldn’t keep it. Either way it’s over, and there is gore in the wake of the event.

3. The cage around your heart. Rib gouging or breaking. Are those lovely slender bones exposed or just crushed beneath black and blue skin?

4. Hats off to you. Decapitation. With a guillotine or perhaps the swing of the blade, the head is removed with an impressive slice. Perhaps you prefer a good saw however.

5. A bite to eat. Vore. Does the cannibal eat with his hands? Well he at least eats yours.

6. A helping hand. Amputation. Perhaps it was an infection, or an injury, but either way the limb must be removed.

7. A handkerchief please. Blood vomiting. Either from an injury or disease, maybe even poisoning, suddenly you’re choking on your own blood. Such a mess!

8. Bull’s-eye. Impalement. Well I guess you didn’t dodge in time! There is now a blade, spear, glass, cutlery, or any nasty thing slammed into your body.

9. Slice and dice. Cutting. Dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands of little cuts into the skin.

10. Memento mori. Scarring. A nice little reminder of an injury to remain on the skin forever. By blade, branding, cauterization, or burning, the memory will remain etched on the body.

11. Pricks and pokes. Piercing. Pain is only skin deep, but the prick will become a permanent fixture in the skin.

12. My heart is yours. Heart removal. By hand or blade, it may be the ultimate act of loathing or love.

13. Visceral viciousness. Gutfucking. Such lovely innards you have!

14. Beautiful and awful dreams. Poisoning. Arsenic, cyanide, barbiturates; so many lovely little chemicals to induce agony or even death by the end. Administered by injection or orally, knowingly or unknowingly.

15. Ladies’ Choice. Free-form kink. Don’t see your kink listed? Don’t fear, the above are only to jog the creative process, please feel free to include your own kinks in your logs as you like.

Settings:

16. Hospital. Perhaps you’re here for a disease, or to recover from an injury. Perhaps the staff and visitors are kind and sympathetic. Or perhaps the doctor is a deranged madman who is going to make you regret ever even suggesting surgery and Nurse Ratchet is working the medications.

17. Battle. You’re facing off with an enemy, and things are about to get bloody and messy.

18. Execution. Justified or not, the state or group has chosen for you to die. Perhaps you accept your fate for your crime, or you intend to give the executioner the fight of their life.

19. Accident. They do happen, and are often tragic.

20. Interrogation. The damned suspect won’t talk, and guilty or not, a confession is needed.

21. Zombie apocalypse. Welp. Get out your chainsaws and hatchets it’s time to fight the undead. Unless you’re undead yourself, then it’s just time to feast.

22. Walk on the beach. For those of you who like fluff with their guro.

23. Gentlemen’s Choice. Have a setting idea you don’t see here? Feel free to include it in your log!

Comments

Chloe | Noir (OTA)

[true_noir]

(No #2, otherwise knock yourself out. Giving or Receiving.)

[gun_cata]

[ So, interested in eventual 12 with a 20ish scenario; probably with 3 and 9 leading up to it, and anything else you like. ]

She'd been in some rough situations before. Kidnapped, tied up, shot, broken, beaten. Hell, Goldie wanted to break her into a sex slave. Despite all of that, this felt... even more dangerous.

The room was actually surprisingly clean and well lit, more than the rest of the building, and obviously made that way for the express purpose of housing targets. Larry was tied to a chair, the ropes far too strong and tight to easily undo - digging painfully into her wrists. Of course, she had other pain competing with it, a sore jaw from being knocked around and a pounding head from being knocked out, and her ribs had to be bruised. "...someone... better show the hell up soon."

[true_noir]

She wasn't alone. There was an alcove, where some of the equipment was housed for proper interrogations. A figure stood in the shadows there, just out of sight. She was watching Rally carefully from that position, and had been ever since she had had the thugs bring her in. Perhaps it would please her captive to know the hired goons were dead now, loose ends she'd needed to make sure didn't turn up again in the future. Perhaps not.

She was watching her intently. She'd always been watching her, ever since that rooftop rendezvous. Rally had picked up quite the little stalker, and the fact that she'd been hired to observe her several times, pleasured by so many others had built up those vicious motes of jealousy in her cold, dark eyes. The Italian had waited for this order, for the command to liquidate the asset once and for all.

She intended to enjoy this. After all, none of them had deserved Rally. None of them was worthy of her. And now, she was going to be hers, for the rest of her short life. Chloe smiled wickedly as she stepped from the shadows. "Hello, Irene."

[gun_cata]

Rally wasn't a fan of people simply being killed, even the worst thugs and killers. She would save any of her enemies if she could, even if it was right after she crippled them with a well-placed bullet, fulfilling her odd sense of justice.

In all honesty, she knew she'd been watched by someone, if only because it wasn't unusual for her. After interfering with so many important criminals, she was always on someone's list, and that might have been the problem. She was too used to it.

And now she was captured, turning her head slowly to face the very captor who'd had her brought here. Some nasty looking woman - in temperament, not appearance. A slight shock registered on her face. "Well... looks like someone knows my real name. Mind giving me the pleasure of yours?"

[true_noir]

"Chloe," she said in a sultry voice, stalking slowly towards Rally. Her body suit covered her entire frame like sinuous, ebon skin. Gloves covered her forearms and boots her legs. Only the tips of her fingers and her head showed the pale, ivory skin she had. When she came in close, she slid one leg over Rally's waist and settled herself baldly on her wast.

A knife was pulled free from behind her back, gently running up and underneath the captive's chin while she licked her lips. "I've been watching you for a long time, Rally. How could I not want to know everything about you," she said, leaning up almost in range of a headbutt.

[gun_cata]

Her name given so easily? It wasn't the arrogance of someone too proud to think they could be caught, so powerful that everyone already knew their name. This woman had a much deadlier air around her, lithe and strong, controlled. Giving her name meant that Rally wasn't supposed to leave this room alive, she figured.

Of course, she had to have yet another lunatic after her who was also lusting for her. Rally's own clothes were nothing unusual, her button up shirt popped halfway down the front with a black bra underneath, the hose under her skirt torn. Really, nothing out of the ordinary for her, except for the obsessed woman running a knife against her. She tried not to shake. "S-sorry... but I've already got something going on..." she said quietly, neither leaning away from nor towards the knife.

[true_noir]

"I know that you do," she said, softly, leaning over to press her ear to the woman's chest. She wanted to hear her hear beating in her chest. It was something she'd longed to experience for such a time. Too many nights, alone and listening through a microphone to the shallow breathing of her sleep. She craved the most intimate of knowledge.

"Unfortunately, the one my mistress has sent me on the behalf of cannot have you interfere in this," came the whisper. "They care enough to summon the true darkness, that they may know how much you have learned... and ensure you do not succeed."

She looked up and ran the blade right up to the skin of her throat, eyes glistening. "Me? I simply want to get to know you better, Rally." Why hide it? She liked seeing the looks in peoples eyes when she explained to them that she was their executioner.

[gun_cata]

Well, yeah she knew. If she knew the name Irene, then finding out that she'd finally found a girlfriend would be easy... and now seeing her again hinged on one of her friends somehow finding her. Certainly, she'd be bailed out like always. Becky or Bean or May or someone would find a clue, even professional assassins weren't perfect...

"So no matter how into me you are, you're... still here to kill me, huh?" Her gaze narrowed. Obsessed, yet dedicated; no, probably enjoying this. The sort of terrifying person who might take her time for the sheer pleasure of it, and the worst kind of person to be at the mercy of.

...if only they hadn't found all of her concealed weapons. "W-well I like... guns, cars, and long walks... on the beach..." she quipped - or tried to. It came out a bit shaky, what with a blade to her throat.

[true_noir]

"I know all of those things," she whispered in a sultry fashion, dragging the knife downwards inch by inch. It ran towards the first button left in place and popped it cleanly off. The second followed soon afterwards before fingers began dragging the fabric apart and Chloe took a moment to lean back and relish the sight of Rally's chest, exposed before her with not but a bit of black lace.

"I know the sounds you make when that woman tames you," she breathed. "I smell the gun oil on your skin. The faint bit of gunpowder from your little friend and their toys. If this were simply an interview, would I go to this much trouble?" She giggled, slipping the knife between rally's breasts and letting it hover there, ready to snap her bra in two at any second.

[gun_cata]

Her breath hitched in her throat. Chloe was so... into this. Aroused by treating her like this. It was terrifying, and she grit her teeth, remembering her abuse at the hands of Goldie. That, however, had been meant to enslave, not kill, but perhaps if this assassin took her time, that would be the time she needed.

Rally could only hope. "You've been... spying on us in bed too? You... you're a real pervert you know." Her skin crawled. Watched, in her most intimate moments like that, with someone she loved. If she died here... then no one she cared about was safe either.

Every button popped, this frightening woman simply admiring her hefty breasts, far too intimately.

[true_noir]

Rally was right. None of them were safe. Those eyes were jealous, psychotically so. They were the eyes of someone who craved to possess, demanded that what was 'hers' belong only to her. They were the sort who could kill a life long friend for getting in her way. "I suppose that I am. You sing such sweet songs for that woman."

Her blade pulled out, the black fabric and wires not standing a chance. Splitting past, she went for another button before sliding off of Rally to walk over to a nearby table. She took from beside it a tall, wheeled pole with a blood bag hanging from it. Bringing it along and smiling sweetly at Rally, she leaned over from behind to carefully wrap a chord around an arm and tap the vein.

A pin-prick and blood started to flow into her. "We wouldn't want you to die too quickly while I'm getting to know you better, now would we?" And, to the IV, she added a dose of painkillers, just enough to keep her from going into shock immediately.

[gun_cata]

"...that's... really private, you know. How I sound for my girlfriend. You... bitch..." It was getting to her, worrying about her friends and family. If nothing else, her love would die simply for being with her. The risk of dating a bounty hunter, maybe - she'd known it as well - but Rally still felt that it was her fault. If they'd never met, she wouldn't be in danger.

Rally glanced down as her bra was cut, breasts bouncing slightly as they were freed. That was a nice bra, too, and replacing it would... it would really be great if she could live to replace it.

Then her eyes went wide at the sight of the IV. Going that far to keep her alive meant that this wasn't going to be just... simple cutting, and then death. Whatever she had in mind was going to hurt, and Rally winced far more than should have as the needle slid into her. Just how long did she mean for this to last? "Yeah, I sure wouldn't... want to die..."

[true_noir]

"I will not promise you that," she said, shaking her head and returning to the table to retrieve a set of tools. Wheeling them over, they came into view as a sort of macabre mixture of medieval torture implements and sex toys. Chloe had the most warped look of satisfaction as she removed the chord holding the vein out and pulled Rally's top apart with the clatter of another button or two.

She reached down and took her knife, running it up the inside of the woman's leg. Her hosiery was slicing up from the grazing touch before she began slicing that skirt out of the way. The intense look in those cold eyes grew the closer she came to exposing what little dignity Rally had left.

"But before you die... you should get the chance for me to be as much a bitch as you think I am," she whispered, looking at her playfully. "We can talk about what I'll do to your lover when I'm through with you... if you like."

8-16ish, starting with something simple so we can just work our way up 8)9

[noppo_sempai]

「 Or you know FUCK THE POLICE and we make our own delicious scenarios. B|b 」

There's always an old gurney stuck in the middle of the corridor in these abandoned asylums, but it's stormy outside despite it being mid-afternoon.

The sky was overcast, and Homare had had to duck inside the closest building he could after it started drizzling. Nothing like being lost and with only a creepy abandoned—hospital?—for shelter. But ghosts aren't real, and he's more likely to encounter the occasional rat or what-have-you lurking thereabouts.

He'd been wandering the place for the past half hour as the storm grew, keeping to the interior lest a window bang open from the winds outside and slam him in the face. Let's say the place has seen its share of activity before, but there were those hidden rooms…chalk marks here and there, with unintelligible (yet arcane-seeming) symbols splattered about the walls of some of the wards, a faint smell of sulfur that the rain can't quite drown out (though it's doing a marvelous job with everything else)—standard asylum stuff, though had he bothered to ask anyone about the nearby town, they would've told him to keep away, that the place has a history of torturing its patients, of black magic, of tormented spirits, the usual thing.

Yet darkness comes too soon, and that's when he takes out his mobile phone (curiously without reception, natch) and uses it to light his way. There seems to be some sort of dentist's office (or a torture chamber, more likely) in the next room, as he beams his phone's light that way. A dentist's chair, some bizarre instruments strewed on a nearby table, and…he quickly backs away.

There's a body on the nearby operating table, wrapped with a dirty (bloody?) sheet, and he's not too keen on figuring out what it is.

Sorry for lateness - I'm open-ended.

[true_noir]

from underneath the sheet came a very dull, low murmur. It had no audible clarity to it. Only the faint groans of someone or something reacting to sound and a decent amount of dull pain.

The fabric shifted and shuffled, but whoever or whatever lurked underneath the covers was unable to exert all of their force. Leather bindings at both ends of the table jerked and twisted, indicating that the person was probably bound somehow. The fabric covering shifting as what might have been their chest heaved and then settled. They couldn't have been that large in all likelihood, probably shorter than he was.

What might have been less obvious, though, was the four flagstones immediately beyond the door. Etched with an arcane seal, they were meant to awaken baser, more vulgar and violent instincts in any who walked in, to free them from the compunctions of ethics or morality, at least for a short time. Were he to step inside, he might very well find his attitude to whatever was beneath the covers quite different.

no problem, it's a good setup!

[noppo_sempai]

His breath caught in his throat at the sign of movement, and he nearly bolted out of the hallway then and there. No one could possibly still be living in a dead place like this unless they were…not quite human. Not that Homare believed in that sort of thing, let alone black magic. His astrology was meant to understand the human psyche on a different level, though in that way his studies and that of the asylum's previous occupants had plenty in common.

To push the limits of the human mind, to see how far it would go in its basest desires…how a kind soul prompted to help another would soon find their state of mind radically altered against it, but to what end? Homare understood nothing of it, though after a few terse moments of standing outside the room he'd finally made up his mind to go help…whatever's under there.

Even just a peek, maybe. He took the first step beyond the door, inching closer as quietly as he could to the body while the flagstones did their work on his mind.

[true_noir]

The place had a familiar feeling to it as his feet touched the flagstones. There was the wash of the sensation of well used tile and the whole place almost felt slightly homey, more comfortable. It was as if he belonged in this place, and what squirmed beneath the covers was his, to do with as he pleased.

At the faint pressure, there was a whirring sound. The table turned itself perpendicular and then elevated and turned so that the feet would face towards the ground, almost like something out of an old Frankenstein movie. The fabric that hung loosely over the soul trapped within draped on their head until they let out a groggy squirm, causing it to slip first to their shoulders.

It was a girl, and she seemed quite normal. Purple haired, perhaps of mixed Italian descent. She couldn't be past her late teens. She looked towards him with the groggy sort of half-awake state of someone coming out of a drug-induced coma. The fabric hanging limply on her shoulders started to slide down over pale, small breasts and revealed her naked, athletic frame inch after inch until it fell to the ground.

"Wha...?" she began, still loopy and not fully understanding what was happening, even as the flagstones sent the urge towards him, the urge to experiment, to cut, whatever came to his heart. She was chattel, meant for the knife or worse. She did not deserve a name, merely subject #362

[noppo_sempai]

But he still had his innate stubbornness about him, one that would not readily concede to the influence of the stones. So there had to be a different approach, and whatever bit of magic's working its way into his mind was a lot more subtle, coaxing, urging him on to explore, to watch, to discover, but not outright kill. He can do that on his own, the more he lingers.

Still he pressed on, backing away with a little yelp of surprise when she went upright, but he wasn't about to turn tail and run before helping hims—her, her. He put a hand to one of her straps, her name—number falling from his lips as if he knew it all along, "362." Was it to wake her? Or was it a statement of his own ownership, the bull laying claim to his territory?

But she was so lovely, couldn't be any older than he was, either. He ran a hand down her cheek, fighting the urge to turn away and peruse those bizarre instruments. "Wake up."

[true_noir]

She groaned and her eyes fluttered. There was a shudder and those eyes snapped back, glaring at him suddenly. Her hands tensed and arms and legs began to move, far more animated now. "My name is Chloe," she growled low, teeth grinding.

As she twisted in the bindings, she tried to get her head away from that touch, looking at him with absolute revulsion. Was he the one that was responsible for this? She couldn't remember for sure. All that she recalled was the hand pressed to her mouth with an oily, chemical-reeking cloth.

All that she knew was the fact that she had not been unbound said many things. Few of them were good.

[noppo_sempai]

"Chloe—" One would think she'd be glad that someone had come to her rescue, but while he hadn't expected effusive thanks he'd at least expected her to be…well…nicer. There wasn't anything outright fierce about her at first glance, although there could've been a very good reason why she was tied up there.

One that he didn't really care to consider, for some reason. Something was tugging his mind elsewhere, and distracted, he could only manage a flinch before whipping his hand away. "Sorry," he muttered, taking a step back. "I just thought…tch." The word seemed to wake something inside of him, something sinister and he closed his eyes, rubbing his temples at the odd headache. He just thought what? She probably wouldn't want to know.

[true_noir]

"You thought, what? That I'd enjoy being dragged here and strapped to a table?" she snapped, eyes glaring at him. It was obvious that she thought of him as her captor. The fact that he wasn't already trying to free her was telling in her mind. she strained against the bonds, snarling and baring her teeth.

"Release me," she whispered, low, eyes full of promise of the things she planned to do if he didn't obey her. However, under the circumstances, it wasn't as if she was very able to fulfill any of the threats in her eyes. In fact, she wasn't able to do much other than growl, her body completely at his disposal.

[noppo_sempai]

Exactly. "No!" he protested immediately, though even he's not sure if he meant her first or second statement. It didn't matter, anyway—he could feel a chill, a slow burn creeping up the edges of his vision like a photograph gone askew, and she seemed to him then a monster all her own. She belonged there, and the thought sickened him.

"I wouldn't have been able to." Lies. "As you are now—I can't." He tugged at one of the straps holding her in place, at her wrist—experimentally, to know how well they'd hold later on—and took a step back. Or a step closer, to the things that mattered.

[true_noir]

A tug and he would find them secure. She might be able to move a half inch on each arm, at most. In reality, she wasn't even making that much headway. Her body's worst writhing mostly resulted in twitches of muscles and wriggling, not real headway to escape. If he started cutting, she wouldn't be able to do much other than take the pain.

She saw him starting to back up, towards the tools and her eyes took on a nasty, wild look. "Cut me out of here, or I will find a way to repay this indignity. What do you want? Sex?" she spat, clearly a little discomfited that she was naked, at his disposal.

[noppo_sempai]

"No," he said again, automatically. A body completely at his mercy, a pretty (dangerous) little doll for–for playtime. That's why he's here, right? He couldn't quite recall if he came here to escape or to come looking for something, beyond the fact that he'd lost his schoolmates somewhere down the line.

He stared at his hands instead, trying to decide what to do. He should let her go, that was only the right thing to do—the thing he would do, beyond tossing his uniform jacket over her to guard her modesty.

But a heartbeat and—

He was at the dojo, after a hard days' training, examining the damage to one of his arrows—

And he found himself before Chloe again, with a scalpel in hand that he'd somehow blindly reached for during his trance. He aimed for the strap underneath her breasts, moving as if to cut it before he traced a thin, bloody line up between her ribs instead.

[true_noir]

She didn't say anything as she watched him. Her eyes narrowed, seeing the blade come into his hands. The lack of sexual desire in him made her no less concerned about what was coming. Seeing him near her with the blade and make to cut her bindings, she pursed her lips and set her jaw.

When the cut bit in between her ribs, spreading the skin and sending up a shallow welling of blood, she hissed. Her body almost twisted, but she stilled it. The damage would be that much worse if she began to jerk. As soon as the blade left the thin cut, however, she reared back and then spat in his face.

"Damn you..."