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sunnynwanda · 2 months

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Black hole: The End

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: reality manipulation, mentions of repeated deaths (in many lifetimes, sort of), poisoning, drugging, revenge & murder. idk if half of these even are warnings, but just in case.

When Villain said that eight months would fly by, Hero did not comprehend just how fast that would be. In the course of the seven months, Villain had told them about every redo of their relationship, all of the weddings they'd had - a big traditional one, an impromptu ceremony at a carnival, a public Hero & Villain wedding at the city hall, no wedding at all, a wedding in a park, and many more. Each and every one of their weddings had been different, yet every life of theirs led to the same result - Villain watching Hero die by nightfall on that godforsaken day. Always poison, with no explanation where it was coming from. Villain wasn't stupid and tried any food or drink before allowing Hero a taste. At the very least, they should have died as well. A much more preferable outcome, if you ask them.

It was lucky Hero always retired about seven months into their relationship, although the asshat of a mayor never seemed to stomach it well. Villain had no need to disrupt public peace anymore either - the aforementioned asshat was enough on his own.

Though the trauma of it all was taking its toll on Villain, who became more paranoid as the date approached. There was only a month left to their thirteenth wedding, and the realisation hit Villain stronger than ever. They grew more suspicious of every person around them, not letting Hero out of sight for longer than a few minutes. They barely left the house leading up to the dreadful day, barricading inside as if fate could be impeded by the walls Villain built around them.

With only twenty-four hours of their shared life remaining, Hero had had enough. They look up at Villain sitting on the couch across from them. With a huff, they get up, strolling over and all but falling in Villain's lap. This earns a light chuckle from their betrothed, but Hero isn't deceived by it in the slightest. They see the stiffness in Villain's shoulders and notice the harsh line settled between their eyebrows. With an overly enthusiastic smile, they intertwine their fingers before speaking.

"Come with me?"

Villain's surprise is tangible. They squirm under Hero, twisting to wrap their arms around their lover's waist. "Where to?"

"Does it matter?" Hero questions, nuzzling into the crook of Villain's neck. Villain shakes their head, a soft sigh leaving their lips before they press them to the top of Hero's head. "Then come. I want to take a walk."

"Hero," there's a warning in their voice and underlying concern, both overshadowed by Villain's willingness to follow them anywhere. As long as we're together.

"Cut the bullshit," Hero's voice intrudes their thoughts harshly. "I won't stay locked up anymore."

"Just one more day," Villain pleads, arms drawing Hero's form flush against their chest. "One more day to keep you safe."

"No," they attempt to sound determined. Villain can tell they are. To think they found that stubbornness charming once! That was before Villain had to watch them die twelve fucking times. "Come with me, or I'll go alone."

"Not a chance, love," the words barely roll off Villain's lips when Hero springs up, pulling them to follow.

"I knew you couldn't say no to me," Villain knows there's a smug smile plastered on their beautiful face without even looking.

"Not fair," they whine, which earns a near-cackle from their beloved nemesis. "You are not supposed to use that against me."

Hero glances at them over their shoulder as they lock the door and grasp Villain's hand again, dragging them along. "I never played fair, did I?"

"You're the hero!" Villain exclaims, but there's no offence taken. Villain knows they are being silly, but their dramatics are well loved by Hero.

"So what?" Hero is as nonchalant as one gets when they shrug, tilting their head to the side with a taunting wink. "I'm an asshole, deal with it."

Villain laughs, drawing them close and leaving a lingering kiss on their temple. "God, you're lucky I love you."

Hero can't help the smile stretching their lips. "You sure I'm the lucky one here?" They muse before taking a turn and coming to a halt in front of a small chapel tucked discreetly between taller buildings. They lead Villain towards it.

"What are we doing?" The barely forgotten concern resurfaces in Villain's tense tone. Their eyes dart between Hero's face and the chapel in front of them. "Hero, why are we here?"

"For a secret matrimony, of course," they state matter-of-factly. Villain is very much speechless. "Something we should have done from the start. Say you still want to marry me."

Villain wants to argue, but a look into Hero's eyes tells them it's pointless. "Of course I do."

Less than an hour later, they are back on their couch, wrapped in Hero's arms, their face pressed against Hero's chest so they can listen to the steady beat of their heart.

The morning of their 'wedding day' comes inevitably soon. Villain wakes up to a soft kiss on their forehead, tears immediately welling in the corners of their eyes. They blink those back and swallow the lump in their throat, wallowing in a haze of apprehension. They are already married, and Villain would be relieved had they not experienced it precisely like this before.

"Promise me something," Hero's hand wraps around their neck, demanding their full attention. It's almost noon, and Villain cannot calm the tremor in their lungs.

"What?" They dip their head, their forehead is cold from nervous perspiration as it comes to rest against Hero's warm one.

"Don't try to save me," despite the softness of their tone, Villain jerks back, eyes stinging at the slap of words thrown their way. "Let me go."

"No way in hell," they don't even have to think, their mouth acting on instinct as their hold around Hero tightens, sure to leave bruises over their sides.

"It's okay," Hero caresses their cheek, eyes never leaving Villain's. "I've been the happiest for eight whole months. And many more that I don't remember. That's more love than I ever hoped for."

"No," Villain repeats, shaking their head to hide the angry flush rising to their cheeks. "I can't. Never."

"Please, Villain," Hero's voice cracks at the sight of Villain's crestfallen face. "You need to move on."

"No," their eyes are watering, but Villain cannot bring themself to care anymore. "No, Hero."

"You can't keep living stuck in a loop," Hero reasons, their point falling flat because Villain doesn't care. "It's been 8 years, Villain! You need to let go."

"No!" Anger flares to life in Villain's eyes. Their entire body shudders at the thought, trembling hands clutching Hero as if that will keep them in place. Right next to Villain, where they always belonged.

"Villain, please," Hero watches the first of many tears roll down Villain's cheek, their eyes softening. Their hand moves to wipe it away. "I love you. More than you will ever know. But you need to let me go. There's no other way."

Need?

Not once in the eight years they've been fighting for Hero did they consider that. They cannot believe Hero would even suggest such a thing. Unless... Oh.

"I won't watch you die again," Villain claims, seeming to regain their composure, strange coldness overtaking their features. They meet their spouse's eyes with newfound determination. "This time around, I'll be the one going."

"Don't say that," Hero begins, an uneasy feeling settling deep in their stomach. Dying couldn't possibly hurt more than watching Villain crumble.

But, before they can continue, Villain interrupts. "I mean that. If one of us has to die then it'll be me."

With a shake of their head, Hero collects their thoughts and does their best to sound stern. "You can't do that. I won't let you."

"Just like you've been doing all this time?" The statement catches Hero off guard. They freeze in Villain's arms, lips parting in shock. They cannot have... "Whatever do you mean?"

They know they gave themself away the moment their high-pitched question reaches their own ears.

"It seems to me the reason I fail to save you in every damned life is because I take heed of everything but one key component of this day," Villain's voice is eerily calm, almost serene in its rage. Their eyes tell a different story, failing to mask the tempest storming behind them. "You."

"Villain..." Hero's chest must have caved in because they fail to inhale no matter how hard they try. The air around them feels scalding hot, burning its way up their nose and down their throat, watering their eyes and threatening to rip free in harsh sobs.

"You didn't remember," Villain states, seizing Hero's wrists to keep them standing close. "But each time, you chose me over yourself, didn't you?"

It's not truly a question because Villain knows. It's in Hero's power, for god's sake. Taking away others' pain, wounds and injuries, inflicting them on their own body instead. It makes up half of their sacrificial personality, and yet Villain couldn't fathom they could take it this far. It took them eight years of their fucking life and twelve do-overs, but they figured it out. Fucking finally.

"Not this time," when the handcuffs clink shut around their wrists, Hero's knees buckle under them. Power dampeners. They clutch Villain's arms, pleading wordlessly, their vocal cords trembling too hard to make a purposeful sound. Villain shakes their head, unrelenting. They envelop Hero in their arms, and Hero leans into their chest as hot tears break free, spilling out in crashing waves. Villain caresses their hair, not letting go. "Not this time."

"Villain, please," Hero's plea is cut short when a needle pierces their neck. Their vision blurs, the light slowly fading from around them. "Sleep, my love. Just one more night."

***

The sun dances against their eyes, spilling past open curtains and making Hero frown in confusion. They never leave them open - neither does Villain because they know Hero cannot sleep unless it's pitch black in their room. Hero was the happiest person on Earth the first time Villain did that for them, made the effort to remember.

They stretch their arms up, allowing their muscles to snap into place as they yawn, still groggy from too long of a sleep. They peel one eye open and turn to glance at the clock when a sharp jolt of pain runs through the side of their neck. It's when their hand flies up to press over the sore spot that they remember the events of the previous day. With a toscin booming in their ears, they sit up, panting as they watch the ring on their finger.

No.

Please. No.

The room starts spinning at an ungodly speed, with them caged in the very centre of it as the walls seem to close in on them, threatening to crush the roof over their head, burying them under the debris of what their life could have been.

This cannot be happening.

They couldn't have slept through Villain's death. They couldn't.

Not after saving them twelve times. Not after draining the poison from their lover's mouth into their own every damn time.

Hero's mind flashes with years' worth of recollections, all following the same route.

It's them kissing Villain at their first wedding as they cradle their head, sobbing uncontrollably. They made sure to leave a little bit of poison in them that night so Villain wouldn't remember.

Them kissing Villain in the middle of the ceremony before the priest allows that one time when it was the wine at the church that was poisoned.

Them kissing their spouse in the car as tears streamed down Villain's face 'cause that wound was nowhere near fatal. Hero was supposed to be fine, which they were. Villain was not. Hero had to kiss their pain away - that's what they do. Over and over again until their body collapses.

A choked cry escapes their trembling lips, the sound of their laboured breathing filling the empty room. Tearing their gaze from the ring that feels unbearably heavy around their finger, Hero covers their mouth, allowing tears to stream down their face and clutching the sheets when their hand lands on a lump next to them.

"Oh, my god," Hero jerks back, but as they begin to process, the lump moves, turning around with a half-asleep expression plastered on their face.

"'My spouse' would suffice, but as you wish, my love," they mumble, still out of it. Hero squeals as realisation settles in.

"Villain!" They grab Villain's shoulders, shaking them awake with an impossibly wide smile on their tear-stained face. Villain's eyes widen as they take everything in. "Wake up, you idiot, we're alive!"

Villain chuckles at that, smiling at them adoringly before pulling Hero down onto their chest.

"We seriously need to stop saving each other," Hero mumbles into their skin. Villain cannot help the tears of relief that escape them. They will tell Hero they had to murder the mayor in the most slow and deliberate way possible for all of the years of their suffering, making them choke on their own poison. And Hero will not oppose or jail them. In fact, they might even thank them. But that can wait. The whole damn world can wait as they move forward with their life because they... they've waited far too long.

Villain wraps their arms around Hero's form, shaking with happy laughter as they pepper kisses onto their hair until the sun is well over the horizon, marking the beginning of a new day.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Masterlist

A/N: And here it comes, the final. I did not anticipate this story to turn out they way it did but oh well, sometimes they have minds of their own xD I hope you enjoy this and thank you for reading! xo Sunny

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

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gwydionmisha · 1 year

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#Tobacco Fields #Child Labor #Agriculture #Poisoning #News

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sickficideas · 3 months

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I was rewatching some of the very early episodes of BSD today, and I can't help thinking there must be a missing scene in the mushroom episode where the fun side effects wore off and Dazai was just very sick. ☹️

oh my gosh I've never considered this 😭😭😭😭 that scene was always too silly to me i never realized its potential...curled up in the infirmary so Yosano can look after him closely. he's all sweaty and pale and can't move very well, his muscles are so weak. he's really confused and repeatedly mistakes Yosano for Mori. of course at this point, no one knows, but Kunikida has connected enough dots to kindly ask Yosano if he can take over looking after Dazai. Dazai can't even lift his head much to throw up. Kunikida keeps a towel over his pillows. even after his stomach is empty, it's cramping horribly and he's in so much pain that he's near in tears for several hours. safe to say he's never doing this again lol.

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 1 year

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Whump Prompt #1126

Submitted by Anon - thanks!

Fantasy/medieval setting where Whumpee (preferable nobility or royalty) is being slowly poisoned. While dancing at an event, they feel fatigued and lightheaded, their lover is worried they're overworking themselves and tells them to slow their rhythm. They only realize something is wrong when Whumpee feels too dizzy at the ball and need to be supported out of the hall to keep their dignity and finally collapse in the hall/their room. Cue all the worry, protective rage etc.

#love it!#whump #writing #prompts #angst #poisoning #collapse #fighting to stay conscious #dancing #overworked #dizziness #fatigue #lightheadedness #fantasy whump #medieval whump

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hneycorpse · 2 years

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More vampire whumpee thoughts since I'm on a roll:

Whumper making whumpee wear silver jewelry at public events. If whumpee makes a scene, the consequences are even worse than any of whumper's punishments— they'll be outed as a vampire.

Whumper giving whumpee a body to feed off, but unbeknownst to them it's been poisoned. It won't kill them since vampires are immortal except under specific circumstances, but they'll sure wish it had.

Forcing whumpee to stay in their bat form for weeks at a time, keeping them in a cage too small to transform back

Defanging whumpee and replacing them with silver implants

Branding vampire whumpee with a silver rod

Whumper tying whumpee up and leaving them out in the sun

Leaving blood just slightly out of whumpee's reach after starving them for weeks

#whump prompts #vampire whumpee #whump #hney's armchair #body modfication #poisoning

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one-time-i-dreamt · 2 months

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My biological father (who I have never met) had poisoned me, and I was so upset about it that I went to the kitchen and made food to help me feel better.

#dream #father #biological father #poisoning #kitchen #food

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irondadfics · 5 days

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hi! just want to start by saying I love what ya'll do and it really is a great help. so the fic I'm looking for basically has one part where Peter get drunk ish? and Tony gets really mad because he keeps telling Peter not to drink and Peter tries to explain it to Tony but Tony doesn't listen and in truth Peter had been drugged while trying to save Tony. its like a sickfic/angst mix, thanks in advance!

hello! Could this be your fic?

Demon in a Bottle by edema_ruh

Tony's nightmare? Peter Parker becoming a copy of himself, in the worst way possible. Peter's nightmare? Mr. Stark dismissing him like he means nothing to the older man. Somehow, both of these things happen. But things always get worse before they get better. Alternatively: Peter gets drugged, intoxicated, and poisoned when trying to save Tony from a potential threat. Tony misreads the situation and fears Peter has betrayed his trust, heading a dark path he has gone down before in his youth. Trouble ensues.

#foundfic #angst #whump #poisoning #peter parker whump #misunderstandings #hurt/comfort

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the-three-whumpeteers · 1 year

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The whumper loved testing out concoctions on the whumpee, which would often leave them writhing in agony- But that just gave the whumper the chance to test out possible cures, though they’d take their time with those.

#dedicated to me finding out that one of the plants I remember playing with was apparently really dangerous lmao #whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee #aramis stabs someone #whump prompts #whumper #poisoning #poison whump

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adrift-in-thyme · 3 months

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@thepinklink Plink you lovely human I come bearing Legend whump for you <33

I'm so glad you met and I've absolutely loved chatting with you these last few days! I look forward to many more conversations <3

Now, this fic kinda got out of hand (*stares at word count* I...did not expect it to get that long I promise), so I'm gonna hide it beneath the cut. But first, warnings!

CW for poisoning, vomiting, blood and injury, harm to animals, and some trafficking vibes (it's not trafficking specifically and isn't related to such harm to humans. But still, be careful)

Oh yeah and you can also read this on ao3

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Legend moves on feather-light feet. His cape swishes gently around him, its silken folds embracing his slight form. Not for the first time he thinks how lucky he is to have it. To possess the ability to become invisible is an invaluable skill. Especially, in situations like this one.

“Come on, rancher. I know you’re here.”

He steps around another row of empty crates, their metal bars dinged and scratched from previous occupants. He can feel their presence still lingering, calling out in panicked voices few humans can understand.

“Help us!” They cry and every word makes his ears prick up, listening even as he tries not to. “Set us free!”

Roughly, Legend swipes at his eyes.

Find Twilight and get out of this cursed place — those are his only objectives. And the sooner he completes it, the better.

He tugs his cape closer about his throat and tightens his grip on his sword. Determinedly, he moves forward.

It seems like forever before the telltale sound of snuffling reaches his ears. Legend perks up, ears pricking at the noise. He can hardly pick out the rancher’s distinctive wolf scent through the stench of dozens of past captives. Still, this place has been empty up until now. Empty and horrid and dark.

So too have been the countless cages scattered about the wide space. But the one Legend can see now tucked awkwardly into a tight corner…that one is occupied.

A large, gray wolf is curled within it, ears drooping in defeat and blood on his paws. His breaths come fast, an edge of panic and pain hitching the end of every one.

Legend’s heart clenches despite himself.

I’m coming, Twi. Just hold on.

Furtively, he glances around. No figures move in the shadows, no one steps into the dim light. But the goddesses only know how long he has before someone arrives.

Legend takes a deep breath and rushes forward.

Twilight’s ears prick up at the sound of pattering feet. He raises his head, tired eyes searching for the disturbance. Fear quickly turns them razor-sharp. A growl rumbles in his throat, low and hoarse, but threatening all the same.

Quickly, Legend lowers his hood. He’s sure that a floating head isn’t the most reassuring thing in the world, but still, it’s better than nothing. And he is unwilling to remove his entire cape just yet. With luck, he can conceal Twilight beneath it as well.

“Hey, hey quiet,” he hisses, holding up invisible hands. “You’re gonna alert the creeps.”

Twilight pauses in the act of rising to his feet, head cocked like one of the stable dogs in Wild’s Hyrule. Legend’s lips lift slightly. He reaches for the lock with one hand, retrieves a cluster of keys from his pouch with the other.

He found them earlier, hanging on the wall from a hook. A paltry attempt at looking professional, in his opinion. Real villains conceal the keys in their cloaks or attach them to their souls with the darkest of magics, unreachable by any who lack the strength to defeat them.

He’s fortunate, though. Fortunate, that they weren’t smart enough to do either.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” he murmurs.

Ring-adorned fingers slide over the collection of keys, magic rifling silently through them, searching for the one that fits the cage. It weaves with elegant grace between them, selects the right one, confidently raises it like a pointing finger. Legend grasps it and fits it into the lock.

The padlock plummets into his waiting palm.

“Alright, let’s get out of this place,” he breathes. And burn it down on the way out. “Can you walk?”

Twilight dips his head. Slowly, he limps out of the cage. A cold nose bumps against Legend’s cheek, leaving a smear of wetness there. The veteran swipes grumpily at it.

“Yeah, yeah you’re welcome. Now, let’s get out of here before somebody discovers us.”

Pulling his hood back over his head, he nudges the rancher into the safety of his cloak. Matted fur scrapes against his legs as they begin to walk. No doubt Twilight is leaving a trail of bloodied paw prints behind. But there’s nothing much Legend can do about that. Except, of course, pick up the pace.

At the rate they’re going, it’ll take them thirty minutes just to reach the double doors. By that time someone will have entered the room, noticed the marks, and begun a search. And though the cape is wonderful for concealing physical forms, it does little in the way of softening sounds.

Twilight stumbles, a low whine escaping before he can stop it. Something damp and clammy slides down Legend’s legs. The veteran reaches down and sets a hand on the rancher’s head.

“Hang on,” he whispers, and the wolf nudges him again in response.

Legend inhales deeply and blows it out. His eyes flit back and forth, searching for hidden adversaries. Every limping, laborious step brings them closer to their escape. Yet, it seems so far…

If he could lift the wolf, that would be helpful. One kick of his pegasus boots and they’d speed right on out of here. But Twilight isn’t light and Legend is already expending quite a lot of magic to keep them both hidden.

Slow and steady is their only choice, then, he thinks, with a huffed sigh. Because it can just never be easy.

If he’s lucky, though, it will be enough.

But he is hardly the luckiest guy on earth.

They have made little in the way of progress when a door slides open behind them. It glides softly on its hinges, showcasing a rather large grouping of shadows. They stretch along the floor in front of the two heroes.

Legend stares down at them, heart in his throat. He dares not turn around to see who they belong to. Instead, he eases down into the shelter of a small enclosure of crates.

Twilight lowers himself with a haggard sigh. But that terror still remains poignant in the piercing blues of his irises. And when he turns to peek at the doorway, his breathing speeds up.

What were those sadists planning to do to him? Legend wonders, fingers coming to rest in thick fur. He hopes it’s a reassuring gesture. What have they already done?

“You said you had another test subject for me.” It’s a woman’s voice, sharp and calloused, like a hand that has held a weapon too many times. “Where is it?”

“Right this way ma’am.”

Large figures fumble to allow her a way forward. Legend tenses as the shadows grow darker, shorter. His fingers tighten, drawing a small comfort from the feel of his sword hilt in their grasp.

The group approaches, passes by without even turning in his direction. He doesn’t allow himself a sigh of relief. They still haven’t reached the cage.

When they do, he knows it.

“He’s right — wait a minute! Where’d he go?”

Panic pitches gravelly voices higher.

“He was right here! I swear!”

“What you swore,” the woman hisses, “was that there would be a wolf waiting for me. A wolf with the power to turn into a man.

“You swore to me that your price would be worth paying. Evidently, I trusted the wrong people.”

The room suddenly tenses, air thickening and growing sharp. Like a dagger readying to be thrown.

Legend’s breath catches in his throat. Dark magic. He’s suffocating on it.

Somewhere, something makes a sickening squelch. A scream sends the pressure spiraling.

“No, n-no need for further violence! I can fix this, I swear!”

The shadows darken once more. A man backs towards their spot, hands raised.

“He’s here,” she says with icy decisiveness. “I can feel him.”

The air goes taut again. She is closer than ever now, eagle’s eyes scanning for her prey. Twilight is rigid. Legend’s fingernails dig into his palm.

“Them. I can feel them. There’s two of them now. Find them both, or suffer the same fate as your companion.”

Burly men the size of his uncle trip over themselves, sputtering promises and reassurances. They fan out, weapons in their hands.

But the woman only grows closer. Legend can smell her now — rotting flesh and chu jelly and bokoblin innards, all attempting to hide beneath a layer of costly perfumes.

Legend presses a hand to his nose, fighting not to retch. Beside him, Twilight shudders.

“You’re near,” she purrs. Hands marred by too many magical experiments reach out, taloned nails beckoning. “I can smell your fear. Come out and I won’t hurt you.”

Nearby, a stack of cages topple with a deafening crash. Legend flinches despite himself. Loud noises have always affected him strongly. Every one feels like an assault to his ears. But in this moment, with the tension and the terror, with a hundred different plans whirring in his mind, it feels like an explosion in his skull.

“Yes. I feel your despair as well.”

She is even nearer now. Legend can see her hideous form, monstrous and gnarled and emanating dark power. Like a witch from the illustrated story books Uncle read him as a boy.

“Come out, little heroes. Come out.”

Legend inhales a shallow breath. He’s going to have to, at some point. She isn’t going to let up — that much is certain.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t still try to evade her.

Closing his eyes, he sections off some of his magic. There is a separate path from the main one, one more violent, more…explosive. A simple nudge and eagerly, his magic streaks down it.

Legend nudges Twilight in the side.

Get ready.

One second passes, then two more. Off to their left, crates and cages and men go flying in an eruption of crackling detonations.

Legend works quickly, pouring more magic in, causing more explosions. They heat the air, send objects and people hurtling. Screams of pain and shouts of fear ring out.

The woman whirls for just a moment. And that’s enough. It has to be.

The veteran leaps to his feet. They can’t run — what Twilight achieves is more of a hobbling jog than anything else — but maybe, just maybe if they keep up this panicked pace they’ll have a chance…

Something streaks through the air, sharp and vicious, searching. It’s pure magic at first, a dark power he tries to evade, to shield them against. But his efforts only draw it to him further. It speeds up, ravenous and eager, zipping towards him. And the next thing he knows, a dagger is embedded in his bicep.

Legend chokes on a sudden mouthful of blood. He tries to remain quiet, he tries. But the cry breaks free anyway, agonized and cut off, screamed through gritted teeth.

Wrong, his body and mind screech as something horrible and icy slides off of the blade and into his veins. Wrong, dangerous, getitoutgetitoutgetitout

Trembling fingers reach for the hilt. But before he can drag it out another wave of magic hits. He screams, grip on his own spell loosening. He clambers to grasp it again, slips, falls. The cloak retreats into his pouch.

“There you are,” the woman hisses.

The ground bucks beneath his feet.

The desperate spark of hope that had blossomed in Legend’s chest shatters completely. And he falls along with it, colliding with the ground with skull-shattering force.

Stars explode in his vision, bursting in eruptions of blinding, electric lights. Somewhere, past the roar filling his ears and head, past the thundering pound of his heart, Legend hears Twilight’s growl.

Nails clatter over the ground. Seconds later, a heavy object slams into the floor beside him, whimpers, and goes terribly limp.

Panic splits through the agony and confusion. Legend curls his hands into fists, blinking furiously in an attempt to see straight again.

Come on. Get up. Fight before they kill you both.

He grasps the dagger, yanks it out. His limbs scream as they move. Blood splatters onto the floor, creating large puddles of greenish-maroon. He tastes the tang of iron, the bite of bile, and…something else. It seems to emanate from him, a strange, vile thing. Tasteless, yet disgusting; icy, yet flaming hot.

Legend shudders, suddenly nauseated. But he hefts his sword more firmly in his grip and turns to face the woman.

“You are a strong one, boy,” she says, face splitting in a leering grin. “That dosage should have killed someone your size, instantly. Yet, here you are.”

“What can I say?” The words are slurred. Legend stumbles as he steps forward, struggling to see past the blur the room is quickly becoming. “I’m full of surprises.”

He thinks the woman’s grin grows larger. But maybe that is only one of the illusions his eyes are forcing upon him. Either way, he hears her words quite clearly.

“I’m certain of it. Not to worry, though. You’ll be dead soon enough.” She nods to the men that have gathered around her. “Go. Get what is rightfully mine.”

They start forward. Legend grits his teeth and steps back toward where Twilight lies, still twitching from the effects of the spell that had hit him.

“Just try and touch him,” Legend growls. “Know that spell that blew your friends sky high? There’s more where that came from.”

For a split second, there is the slightest glimmer of fear in their eyes. But then the ground dives down, down, down beneath his feet. Pain streaks through his head, as though someone has driven a stake through his skull.

Legend pitches forward and vomits.

Laughter assaults his ears as he fights to compose himself. Darkness tinges the edges of his vision. Oblivion beckons him.

Let go, it whispers. It doesn’t hurt here.

He bats it away, steels himself, straightens. Blood and bile dribble down his chin, and he doesn’t bother to wipe them away.

“Give up,” one man orders between barking chuckles. “You’re already dead.”

Legend lists to the side and grins, all sharp, blood-tinged teeth.

“Not yet, I’m n-not.”

Magic streaks through constricted veins, scraping as it goes. With an agonized scream, he sends it forward. The room lights up with streaks of greenish light.

He crumples in the wake of it, choking on a mouthful of blood, dragging thin gasps of air through failing lungs. His stomach heaves again, desperate to rid itself of the poison his heart pumps through him. But there is nothing for it to expel.

Agony holds him in an iron-fisted grip, turning his limbs stiff and immovable, making his head spin and pound. The darkness claims more of his sight. Still, he battles it.

He has to stay awake — for Twilight’s sake, for his own. He’s made it this far. He’ll be damned if he gives up now.

Cackles reach his ears. Slowly, he lifts his head.

The fallen bodies of his enemies lie strewn about, still smoldering. The sight brings bile back into his throat. He hates killing, no matter what the deceased people might have done. And yet, there had been no other choice.

The woman, however, seems to have come out relatively unscathed.

Shielding spell, Legend’s mind so helpfully supplies. A harsh curse bubbles out from between bloodied lips.

“You truly are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

A bolt of electric power collides with his chest. Legend goes flying, hits a stack of crates, and collapses. His breath is merely a wheeze now, though he can’t tell if that’s from the poison or the broken bone currently skewering his lung.

Both, probably.

The woman advances. Legend tries to sit up and fails. His entire body is on fire now. Shudders wrack him. Everything smells of blood and vomit and poison. The room spins like a leever; his surroundings blur like smudged charcoal.

He coughs and more greenish-red hits the floor.

“I would keep you, you know. To examine and experiment on. But it seems the poison has already done irreversible damage.”

A flick of a finger and Legend is propelled upwards. Seconds later, he hits the floor again with an earth-shattering crack.

The pain of broken bones joins all else. He thinks he screams. He can’t be certain.

He knows that he can’t breathe anymore. All his lungs are capable of are paltry, wheezing attempts. He’s suffocating, drowning in blood and poison. He’s back on the sea, battling against waves taller than Hyrule Castle, fear growing stronger with each one that floods the deck of his little boat.

“I see no reason to spend precious power on saving your life. Perhaps, you can save yourself. I doubt it though. After the spells you cast, you likely don’t have enough magic left within you to heal a nicked finger.”

She is right upon him now, presence smothering. Legend blinks, slowly. Everything feels very, very far away. If he releases his grip now, will he plummet? Or will everything simply fade away, leaving him to float on waves of grayish nothingness? Empty. Alone.

Maybe it will feel better then, being unattached, emotionless. Maybe…maybe it won’t hurt so very much…

Fire screams in his veins, burning muscle and flesh and bone, devouring his insides. Blood fills his throat. His breath rattles in his veins. A tear slides down Legend’s cheek. Its icy touch is almost soothing.

His grip on something resembling consciousness slips. He tries to inhale again. His lungs do not expand to fill his foggy request.

The last thing he sees before his eyes flutter closed is a wolf leaping forward and closing its jaw around the woman’s neck.

She shrieks, blood spurts, and it all goes dark.

….

“...end! Legend!”

Protesting eyes flutter open, beckoned by a voice he knows. Sharp, gray-blue eyes gaze down at him from a pale face streaked with crimson.

“Ra-ranch–”

Legend drags in a wheezing breath and chokes on the word. Twilight holds him closer, nudging his sweat-soaked bangs aside.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.”

A calloused hand encases his frigid one. Legend tries to squeeze it. But his muscles won’t cooperate. Everything still burns. He yearns for the darkness to cover him again. He yearns to not feel.

Are you okay? Is what he means to say.

“Hurts,” is all that comes out.

Twilight’s expression shatters. There are tear streaks on his cheeks, the veteran realizes, dimly. They shouldn’t be there.

“I know, buddy.” The world shifts and Legend squeezes his eyes shut against it. Something cold and smooth presses to his lips. “Drink this. It’s all I’ve got but it’s enough to keep you alive.”

Bittersweet silk slides down his throat. Obediently, Legend swallows it. It soothes all the way down, knitting bones and flesh back together, nudging the wrongness out of his veins.

Not completely. Not even close. But it’s something, and Legend is grateful for it.

“Okay?” Twilight asks, and the veteran offers a jerky nod. “Alright, then I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Again, his surroundings tip. Legend swallows against the urge to vomit.

“No,” he croaks in a barely audible whisper, “…I-I was ‘posed to get y-you outta here.”

The world begins to move like the endlessly churning walkways he had endured in the dungeons of Koholint. His head bumps against something wonderfully soft, and he leans into it. A heartbeat drums softly in his ears.

“‘M sorry.”

It is merely a sigh. Twilight hears it anyway.

“It’s okay, vet,” he assures him, as thick darkness envelopes him again. “You did great. You saved me.

“Now, let me save you.”

Somewhere in the fuzz of oncoming unconsciousness and potion and pain, Legend has the urge to laugh.

Save him? He’s the veteran of hero business. He shouldn’t need saving.

But the heart keeps beating like a distant drum; and the softness drags him into it, tickling his nostrils and caressing his face; and the arms that hold him remain steady even as the world churns like waves on the sea. And before long Legend is gone, adrift once more in an abyss of blessed oblivion.

#trin writes #linked universe #lu legend #lu twilight #hurt/comfort #whump #blood and injury #vomitting #poisoning #harm to animals #angst #tysm for letting me write this for you Plink!#i had such a great time!#oh also i tried to gift it to you on ao3 but it wouldn't let me #so i linked it here so you could read it on the archive if you wanted!

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secret-bug-pain-blog · 3 months

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Febuwhump 2024, Day 1 - Helpless (fic below cut)

@febuwhump

Hornet flexed her pedipalps, snapping weakly at their hands, the poison coursing through her veins proving frustratingly difficult to throw off. She could barely move her claws, merely bristle and snarl silently, her vocal chords straining to deliver even a simple rumble of displeasure. Their hands merely tightened on her throat, holding her still as if she were a mere dirtcarver and twisting her head to the side. Hornet squirmed in their grip, clawing weakly at their coat sleeves.

Their hand closed around her cloak's clasp.

For a single moment, Hornet realized just what they were doing. Indignation surged in her throat, followed by raw fury - how dare they?! To strip the robes from a princess, to take the last gift she had ever received from the weavers-

SNAP.

Hornet crumpled to the ground as they abruptly released her, silk rolling over her sides and attempting to snag on her scales as her cloak was pulled off of her. She landed badly enough that she could feel something jolt out of alignment beneath her shell, weakened muscles failing to respond in time to catch her fall. Her yelp was embarassingly muted, more of a whimper than anything worthy of a Princess of Hallownest.

Her limbs strained and protested as she forced herself back onto all fours. Merely putting weight on her limbs was painful, as though her tendons would snap with barely an inch more strain, but she was loathe to let the pirate have an inch of victory.

The mossy red of her cloak vanished behind his arm, and all Hornet could feel was burning, indignant rage.

As she bared her fangs in a snarl, wobbly on her feet against a body that seemed determined to rebel against her, she caught the eye of the captain, staring judgmentally down at her.

The butterfly frowned at her, one arm going to caress the side of her mask. Her hysterical growl did nothing to deter him as he traced along where her mask met her face, her snapping pedipalps always falling just barely short, her claws-

The captain made a tutting sound, as if he thought he were talking to a hatchling-beast, and Hornet lurched forward in an attempt to bury her fangs in his chitin, a brief sense of indignation at the slight overwhelming her common sense. His claws slipped beneath her mask-

-and in an instant, she was bare-faced, her shell exposed to the open air.

Hornet recoiled, her claws flying to her face in a futile attempt to hide her bared muzzle. Her secondary sets of eyes felt nearly blinded in the sudden light, a breeze all too cold brushing against naked setae - the noise she made couldn't rightfully be called anything more than a squawk, a noise so undignified that she would have felt ashamed if not for the far more pressing issue of her mask.

Her limbs threatened to give out within seconds of assuming the pose, too weak to allow for any form of bipedal motion. Her nicitating membranes blinked furiously, a futile attempt to block out the painful light of the cargo hold. She snarled uselessly, helpless to do much more than watch the smooth-tooled bone of her mask vanish behind too-blue wings, her setae set on end as she collapsed once more to holding her weight on her elbows, ignoring the shooting pain that sparked from her shoulder.

How dare he. How dare they?! Hornet's growl grew louder, straining her throat painfully as she stared the bug down. Her legs wobbled beneath her, the set of her arms threatening to betray her at any moment, her venom still stubbornly failing to come to her claws. She refused to lie down and- and take this! She met his eyes the best she could, defiant as she could manage, her setae bristling weakly as she struggled to remain upright.

The pirate did not respond, merely continuing to stare at her as if judging her for her weakness. Hornet could feel her limbs threaten to give out as she stared at him, bristling defensively. She refused to back down. She REFUSED to allow him to get the last laugh.

The pirate looked at her, for a moment, like she was dirt beneath his feet. And then he was gone, her cloak and mask gone with him.

Hornet's growl lasted barely a few seconds before going out in a disgraceful wheeze, her throat burning in a way that suggested she had majorly overstrained it, even though she had done little but express the most basic of unfriendlinesses.

...her mask had been stolen, and she had been capable of doing little more than snarling and squirming like a premature nymph.

Hornet swallowed spit back down, trying to force back the sudden wave of helplessness. She was a princess of Hallownest. She had survived the Infection, she had survived the Fall, she had survived the destruction of the Black Egg temple, she had survived past the death of her final remaining vessel-siblings. She had no reason to falter at this- this-

Her shoulder gave out, and Hornet crumpled to the ground, choking on her own breath. Every muscle in her body burned, as if they'd truly been exerted, rather than poisoned. It hurt just to move, a bruise forming across her side.

She was the Princess of Hallownest. She would escape. She would get out, she would go home, she would see her kingdom again.

The cloying feeling of helplessness burned far worse than the poison.

#whump #my posts #writing #febuwhump #febuwhumpday1 #febuwhump2024 #helpless #manhandling #poisoning #probably some other stuff but we're queueing this at like 2 am so #hollow knight #hornet #nudity #(??? shes more upset about losing her mask than the nudity part but we feel like it may be necessary to note)

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 1 month

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Ivy’s deathwish in Dead Beauty AU. The chapter needs to continue, but, yeah. Posting what I’ve got now.

Ivy sits still (too still) with her head laid on top of Claudine’s and the smoke curls around them.

She doesn’t breathe it in, not for several long seconds, not until her lungs decide to cooperate again; then she breathes it in, coughing immediately after. How embarrassing this is, Ivy de Vil choking on smoke.

„You okay?“ Claudine has the damn audacity to pull away and ask that. Are you okay? Did the Hell freeze over? Did mould jeans actually go back into fashion again?

„Obviously,“ Ivy says, turning her nose up and drawing Claudine close again, before her muscles inevitably lock up, „Never been better.“

„Just checking, you know, with all the alcohol and poison,“ Claudine breathes more smoke into the air and Ivy would love to answer, she really would–

Would she though?

When she can move again, she just slowly stretches out her hand and fingers, watching the light dance on her red nails: She’s got a new manicure, got it done just yesterday. It’s flawless now, bringing her comfort. She decides she’s fine now, can push herself for a bit more time before she gets the antidote. Even if she isn’t actually sure how much strychnine she has had, how much time it was since, what with Harry Hook being such a distraction–

It’s his turn now, and she hopes he will come up with something fun.

She also feels like she should tell her youngest cousin what’s going on – right after she yells at him for coming back, and for coming back and not telling her immediately, not necessarily in that order, and, yeah. For that, he can wait a bit.

If he wanted to know, he should have just come to see her.

Ivy steals Claudine’s cigarette to drag a breath from it while her body isn’t being a joy-killing bitch, and here, fuck that–

Claudine has to forcibly take the lit cigarette from her locked up fingers, lest the hot embers fall down her cleavage, and oh no what a shame would that be–

„I wasn’t done with that yet,“ Ivy complains as soon as she can move again, ignoring the way Claudine lifts her eyebrow at her, the way her lips curl.

„Weren’t done with that, I’m sure–“

„Hey,“ Diego, that poor excuse of a cousin, so very rudely interrupts them, „What’s up?“

Ivy is unsure whom she should try to kill with her glare first, as Claudine answers that oh, yeah, don’t worry, she’s just, y’know, actively dying, and all that.

Ivy will have you know she has it completely and utterly under control, thank you very much.

„Harry Hook was there,“ she tells him, „We played Russian Roulette.“

„Of fucking course it was a Hook–“ he mutters, as if he didn’t sleep with the Beauty’s Captain any chance he gets, fucking hypocrite, and, „Did you win or lose?“

Ivy turns her nose up: „Yes,“ she informs him.

„Stupid bitch.“

She tries to show him the middle finger, but just manages to lock herself in a spasm again, damn it–

„Claudine, go get her the antidote – Auntie’s sleeping pills, she’s keeping them in her bedside table, second drawer,“ he commands, as if he had any fucking right to order around her Claudine–

„Fuck you, Diego,“ she spits out as soon as she can, „Fuck you.“ Then she turns to Claudine, quickly getting her tone under control, speaking sweeter and angling herself just so: „Could you go get it, sweetheart? She moved it to the first drawer.“ It is probably getting just a bit too late, she supposes.

„…Fine,“ sighs out Claudine, „For you.“ She gets up and extinguishes the cigarette on an ashtray and Ivy mourns the loss almost immediately. She chooses to glare at Diego, what with his annoying insistence on not dying and stuff.

Claudine walks round Diego, who leans on the doorframe with his hands crossed, and as soon as she’s out of earshot, he asks: „Really? Hook? And Frollo – why are you still so hung up on her, anyway?“

Ivy chooses to not-hear the second answer, and instead spits out: „Oh, so this is how it is?! When you sleep with a Hook, it’s okay, but if I do it, I’m suicidal and danger to myself?!“

„Yes! Ivy, they are dangerous, and fuck, look at yourself–“

She manages to throw the glass at him before she spasms again – he dodges, that fucker, and comes help her into a safer position. Gods, sometimes she really hates him.

„Look at yourself too,“ she says when she can breathe again, ignoring the way her hands can’t seem to stop shaking, and the way Diego takes them into his, „Your throat is still bruised, and how long was it? A week?“

„Two.“

„You looked like she tried to rip out your throat with her teeth.“

He smirks, that bastard; „Pretty sure she did try that, yeah–“

And that’s how Claudine finds them, laughing because there is nothing else to do, because they are just two lost cases anyway, because the de Vils have reached Hell and yet they keep on sinking.

And yet, Ivy lets Claudine force–feed her the pill.

#disney descendants #claudine frollo #ivy de vil #diego de vil #dead beauty au #poisoning #substance abuse

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