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critrolesideblog · 3 years

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"Do you enjoy card games?" At this query, Caleb looked up slowly, finally, from the Aeorian tome he had been frowning at all day.

It was the third day of a forced respite from their Aeorian expedition. They had been beset on their last outing by a three-headed abomination that, though quickly vanquished, had left Caleb with a series of nasty bites that bled with alarming profusion. A couple of healing potions had stopped the bleeding and partly healed the wounds, but they stubbornly refused to heal up entirely. So, at Essek's insistence and Caleb's reluctant acceptance, they were taking a break.

Caleb had spent their "break" thus far puzzling over an incomplete Aeorian formula with increasing frustration and, despite Essek's efforts at reassurance, guilt at delaying their explorations. Caleb had stubbornly refused both Essek's help and his suggestions that he work on something else for a while. So, Essek moved to Plan C.

"I, ah, ja, I suppose so," Caleb replied, azure eyes glancing down to Essek's hands, deftly shuffling the deck he had procured from the second floor of the tower. "Although, it has been some time since I've played one."

"It has for me as well." Essek glided around the desk Caleb was seated at to place himself on the opposite side, as Caleb considered him thoughtfully, and as he seated himself, the Zemnian wizard gently closed the tome with a small sigh and made space on the desk by unceremoniously shoving a small mountain of wadded-up, discarded parchment onto the floor, to the annoyed meows, chitters, and huffs of a number of the tower cats. "It's been at least," Essek took a large breath and let it out in a slow sigh, making a production of thinking over the many decades it had been since his last game with Verin. "Oh, at least 70 years, maybe 80." Caleb leveled a deadpan gaze at him for his efforts, though he was unable to completely school the muscles at the corners of his lips that wanted to form a smirk at his little one-upmanship. Essek allowed himself a satisfied grin in return. "Still, I thought it might be a pleasant diversion."

"Do you have a particular game in mind, old man?" Ha. Essek considered the possibilities, unsure of which, if any, games spanned their two cultures.

"Hm, there was one Verin was particularly fond of when we were children. The cards are dealt evenly between the players," he explained and began dispensing the cards. "And the goal is to obtain the entire deck. Without looking, we each take turns flipping cards over into a pile in the center, until someone plays a face card. When that happens, the next player tries to beat the value of the previous card, Aces being of greatest value, and whomever has the highest card claims the pile."

"Simple enough."

"Indeed, but when Verin played, he was fond of what he called..." He paused to consider how best to convey it in Common. It was odd the random words that came up as blank spots in his vocabulary. Punch...? No, not punch. "How do you say it ... There is a word, I think, for when you hit something with your palm?" He mimed the motion of doing it to someone's face.

Caleb raised an eyebrow, a bemused expression settling on his features. "A slap?"

"Yes!” Now that Caleb said it he was certain he had heard it before. “He liked to play with...” He paused to consider the translation again. “Slap rules."

"Slap rules?"

"When two cards of the same value are played in a row, or on either side of a single card, any player may slap their hand down and claim the pile, whomever is quickest."

"Alright, I think I've got it." They each scooped up their respective piles of cards and formed them into neat stacks in their hands. "Shall we?" There was a glimmer of friendly competitiveness in Caleb's eyes that made Essek's heart-rate tick up a little.

"After you."

They took turns flipping over cards, slowly at first, random numbers of varying colors stacking one on top of the other until Caleb, at last, turned over a Jack. "Ah, let's see if you can beat that, Her Thelyss." Essek dealt his next card. Six. He let out a little huff of disappointment as Caleb slid the pile towards himself with the ghost of a grin hovering around his mouth.

"Danke." He said, adding the pile to his hand.

"Ole hyvä." Essek deadpanned. Amusement crinkled the edges of Caleb's eyes, and an increasingly familiar warm affection took up residence in Essek's chest. They began again, flipping the cards a little faster this time.

Thump. Caleb blinked with surprise as Essek claimed the pile. He moved his hand back slightly to reveal the most recent cards - two threes in a row. "Aaah, right, slap rules."

"Indeed."

They began again, flipping the cards over a little faster still. Essek glanced up at Caleb's face. The guilt and frustration that had tugged on his features the past two days seemed to have released their grip, in favor of intent observation. He looked back down -- two eights! Their hands collided as they both reached for the pile at the same time, but Caleb eked out a victory, his fingers managing to slip just under Essek's. Caleb gave a soft "ha!" as he claimed the pile, and Essek found himself grinning as well, despite the loss. He had not considered that their hands would inevitably touch over the course of this game, but he couldn't say he minded.

"You can imagine, perhaps," he said slowly as they began turning over cards again, resolutely watching the cards this time, "two little Drow boys slapping the cards, and each other, with increasing enthusiasm as the game goes on." Caleb chuckled.

"I can indeed. In Blumenthal, we had a game where we just slapped each other's hands to see who was fastest, no cards needed." Both of their hands shot out - a nine flanked by a pair of fives this time. Again, there was Caleb's warm hand under Essek's instead of cardstock. He made a show of hissing with frustration, baring his fangs a little, but he was sure it was belied by the grin still tugging at his mouth. Caleb didn't seem the least bit intimidated as he added the cards to his hand, amusement crinkling the eyes again. The warm affection steadily blooming in Essek's chest grew warmer still. They began again, and after a moment of dealing cards in companionable silence, Caleb asked, "What is he like? Your brother?"

A memory filled Essek's senses. He and his brother were in a ballroom on the Thelyss estate. Members of various Dens and the upper echelon of the military were milling about them to the strains of soft music and polite conversation. Verin was grinning with a brash pride at being appointed Taskhand, chin held high, chest puffed out. A gleeful victory polished his silver eyes to shining. Earlier that evening, Essek had retied the bun neatly collecting his little brother's many braids to make sure he was presentable for the ceremony. Verin had ruffled Essek's hair to make sure he wasn't. "Tall," he replied, finally, and then muttered, "the bastard." That shocked a laugh out of Caleb, as Essek hoped it would, and he tried to suppress his own victorious grin.

"How rude of him growing past his elder brother!" Caleb laughed.

"The disrespect," Essek opined, shaking his head. "When we were teenagers, I once escorted him to a shop - he wanted to buy a trinket for some girl, and I needed spell components."

"Naturally."

"And the shopkeeper complimented him on how kind he was to take his little brother out shopping." Caleb's laugh was lovelier than any sound Essek could think to compare it to. "I could have strangled that shopkeep. I knew I would never hear the end of it. All I heard for months after that was little brother this, and little brother that."

"How did you get him to stop?"

"Violence." Essek claimed the card pile with a Jack of Spades. "I mastered Telekinesis and tossed him into a snowbank."

"Ja, naturally, as one does." Caleb's voice was warm with amusement.

Essek felt no need to mention that Verin had enjoyed the experience and asked to be tossed into the snowbank three more times. "He's naturally charming," Essek continued. "Too much for his own good, sometimes. He has forgotten on more than one occasion to check whether the targets of his charms were married first."

"Uh-oh," Caleb chuckled.

"Indeed." Essek rolled his eyes with old exasperation and then claimed the pile of cards again with a Queen of Hearts. "He's smart, but he always preferred fighting and flirting to academics. Still, he has a keen mind for battle strategy, tactics, problem-solving. Much too honest for politics, but he is the sort of person people turn to naturally for leadership, and he takes that responsibility seriously." Caleb claimed the pile this time, King of Clubs.

"He sounds like a good person," Caleb ventured quietly.

Another memory rose up, unbidden. Verin when he was a long way yet from being Verin. They had called him Rei then, and Essek had been called Kai. Rei was a baby, barely old enough to walk, but his tiny hand patted Kai's shoulder gently as his elder brother tried not to cry over a skinned knee. His silver eyes, large in his small, round face, clearly full of a sympathy he did not have words yet to express. Essek nodded. "Even when he was a child. As a toddler, any time he received a treat, his first instinct was always to share it, with me or Nanny, or the housekeepers, even, whomever was nearby." Haluatko vähän? Do you want some? The little boy had always asked. Haluatko vähän? He had asked the less popular children in school, as he went out of his way to share his snacks and his shine. Haluatko vähän? He had asked with an excited smile, on the eve of his deployment to Bazzoxan, before running out into the rain to get fried insects from his favorite street vendor, like a child and not the 105-year-old man that he was, and again after purchasing it and exclaiming how delicious they were, Haluatko vähän? "He has always had a good heart." Icy tendrils began to snake their way through Essek's chest, like the mold of Aeor, feeding on the heat there and turning it into cold, cold shame and guilt. How had Verin remained so good and Essek turned so wrong?

He didn't ask the question aloud, but Caleb seemed to guess where his mind had turned and countered it with a question of his own. "Perhaps some credit goes to his elder brother for shielding his good heart?" Essek made himself look into Caleb's eyes, and their hands paused in their game for a moment. There was no pity in the Lucidian blue, just a gentle curiosity. It was a genuine question.

Essek considered the hypothesis. He had tried his best to keep Verin on the right side of the Umavi's scrutiny and their father's temper and out of any problems he couldn't punch his way out of. But was it as simple as being the younger of the two? Essek had felt as much affection for Nanny as Verin had, but he wasn't sure he had ever offered to share a treat with her before Verin came along. If he had, he certainly hadn't continued to offer after repeated declinations out of an immovable sense of fairness. As far as Essek could recall, they had always been of wildly different dispositions. Verin was boisterous where Essek was quiet, outgoing where he was introverted, gregarious where he was selfish, courageous where he was cowardly. Try as he might, Essek could not imagine Verin doing the things he had done, for the Dynasty or against it, for mere power.

"Very little," he concluded. "I did try to look out for him, but for all that we share in origin, we are very different people. There is no discarded timeline with a Shadowhand Verin."

Caleb considered this thoughtfully for a moment and then tossed a card down with his verdict: "That last assertion is unfalsifiable." Essek raised an eyebrow and tossed a card down. Yes, he supposed it was... for now...

Thump. Caleb slid the pile crowned by two Kings toward himself with a satisfied grin. "You know this game is very unfair to you, Herr Thelyss." There was a spark of mischief in his eyes, and Essek felt the chill in his chest begin to ease. "What with my being so much younger than you, better reflexes and all of that."

Essek scoffed and shook his head, a grin returning to his face. The nerve. "Oh, we'll see about that."

#baby's first ficlet #first one posted to the worldwide web anyway #please be gentle #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #shadowgast #a little but mostly Essek thinkin about his brother #verin thelyss #Apologies to anyone who speaks Finnish if the Google Translates are terrible #my writing tag

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cannibal-witchh · 3 years

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Reader(Fem) X Alcina Dimitrescu

(PART 1)

Written by cannibal_witchh

⛓Trigger Warning⛓

Story contains: Gore, sexual elements, vulgar language, violence, elements of sub/dom behavior, and captivity.

Notes:

I am not the most confident writer so bare with me if theres some flaws floating around the story. I also have very minimal general knowledge to Alcina right now due just demos only being out. Please, be considerate that there's only so much information released on her so most of what I'm writing is not canon. Let's keep it positive and real, we all are thirsting after Lady D so here's a a fanfiction. Also couldn't condense it in one story so going to make this adleast a two or three parter.

It can get confusing with a lot of female characters so the reader is of course:

Y/N - your name

Her/she- i wanted to refer to the female reader in italics and bold

Y/L/N- your last name

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Thunder echoed along the well decorated corridor walls . Hints of lightning occasionally flashed between fluttering curtains. Beyond the curtains was an open window, below that was a critical drop into snow and shards of large rocks. That was definitely not worth risking. Y/N had been held in captivity for what felt like a legitimate eternity. Confinded to a small well kempt room, it seemed as though it had once been a guest room according to the furnishing. All the basic necessities of a bedroom were present here. The fabrics that dressed the bed were of a fine quality, and the boards that held all of it up were of incredible carpentry. Gentle embers flickered from the candlewicks that rose tall on the golden girandoles. Despite captivity the room was comfortable, it was illuminated with warm colors, although still dim and feint.

The door swung open, a black swarm of insects swirled infront of the door as it begun to quickly form a figure. It revealed a small vampiric woman, hooded with golden locks peaking from under it. She flashed her teeth with an enthusiastic smile, as she revealed blood stained teeth, lips, as well as her chin. " Oh, goody! You are awake. I always feel bad feeding when someone is asleep.", She shut the door as she advanced closer to Y/N. Adrenaline began to flood through her veins, hair on her body standing up, and her palms perspiring. She was covered in scabbed bite marks, and bruises - it didn't take long for her to recall the abrupt painful puncture of teeth break through her skin. The old bites began to twitch with pain at the idea a new addition would be welcomed. " I just prefer blood thats been in shock, y'know, awake? It gives it a nice acidic flavor, plus,", she towered over Y/N breathing in her aroma. " It smells wonderful.", she giggled in soft whispers. "Enough.", Y/N demanded as she attempted to cease her trembling. Her body was returning to anxiety because it was clear what was about to happen. A feeding. The vampire didn't seem to express offense, strangely her face bore amusement. "Oh ok, how about this!", she excitedly brought out her sickle and swung at her. With one swift swing the sickle hooked right under her knee cap. A shriek was released from Y/N's lips, agonizing pain radiating everywhere, and blood began to river out from the site. The vampire dragged her with the sickle through the corridor as everything seemed like a blurr from the shock. Hallways seemed like a stretched out haze, and noises seemed to be loud echoes one would hear in a juvenile cafeteria. "Whe-where are you taking me...?", she barely mustered as she felt the sickle dig through muscle and actually brush against the back of her knee cap. Fuck. The sickle was released quickly from her skin as she heard the sound of blood fly onto the ground. That abrupt removal felt worse for minutes compared to the weapon actually being present in Y/N's knee. The monstrous woman lifted the sickle to her crimson stained lips, inhaling the aroma deep, and then proceeding to lick the sickle of the blood it had collected. Sounds of ecstasy escaped her satin black lips, her eyes darted over at Y/N as she felt like she was on the verge of fainting from shock. " I love blood that has some acidicity to it. It gives it a nice kick. You know how that works? For example, your blood could still have more of that taste. One who is in a flight or fright scenario, where they are in absolute fear and adrenaline kicks in...thats when the meat and blood have a sour flavor. Mmm, thats why we are going to play a game." , she licked her lips as her eyes flickered with hunger and passion. Y/N groaned in pain as she felt her body gasp from the fevered pain beating in her knee. " I propose we play hide and go seek! You already know who's hiding. I will give you to the count of 100." , her eyes shimmered from this fucked up idea, she quickly turned her back and covered her eyes. Slowly the sickle in her hand vanished within dark smoke, damn it, Y/N within fading in and out had thought perhaps of stealing that and killing her there. Not anymore. She rose up with wobbling knees, just like a new born dear barely capable of using its legs, she began to hobble as fast as she could away.

"Oh, and I can smell your blood. So hide well, Y/L/N."

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Y/N consistently looked back, watching if the vampire had cheated the game. She was indeed honoring the game, that was adleast something about this blonde one she liked. She seemed to honor things she said, " 89...70...", her voice echoed loudly through the halls. The numbers lowering as Y/N felt her adrenaline spike even higher.

Y/N managed to find a door unlocked in a different wing of the manor. She adleast went through 10 locked doors before fleeing to another location of the manor. With pure luck, she discovered this door, it was unlocked and she took her gamble and entered quietly. With trembling gore soiled hands, she locked the door, and sunk to the ground. Very little energy existed in her, she anticipated for dear life the blonde vampire wouldn't smell her here.

The sound of gentle humming danced along the walls of this room, very melodic, sad, and eerie. Lonely, perhaps. With Y/N's quick realization, this resembled a garden bath house. The windows stretched tall in this room, revealing bleeding light from the full moon, there were plants of vibrant emeralds surrounding the large mass of water that centered the room. The water was decorated with rose petals and red spider lilies. The room was architecturally structured with several stones of marble, and looked almost like a Greek bath house . Gentle sounds of rushing water followed between stones which flowed into the big pool of water. Little ripples scattered across the water causing the red flowers to bob up and down.

The humming persisted as Y/N felt her heart drop, she quickly scurried to the nearest marble pillar to conceal herself. The humming was growing louder and louder, could it be the hungry vampire? She wasn't certain if it was worse but it certainly felt like it, Lady Dimitrescu emerged from the shadows of the room, and strided to the water. She was only wrapped in the finest silk, a tight sheer white robe that hugged tightly against her hips. She definitely had a full figure, the robe delivered a silhouette of her motherly figure. It certainly complimented, the low cut of the robe teased her deep cleavage, the sheer silk revealed faint color and the shape of her puffy areolas. Even in the predicament Y/N was in, it was still hard not to appreciate Alcina's physical beauty.

Alcina continued her melodic hum for a few more moments as she admired the undulations of the floral water. " Y/N Y/L/N, you believe me to be foolish?", she broke from her tune as her eyes looked directly at Y/N. She gulped hard as she submitted to the acceptance Alcina would more than likely kill her. She continued to lay her back against the cold pillar, one hand applying pressure to her bleeding knee, the other containing the fear that was trying to escape her lips. " I could smell that delicious blood from here.", she chucked lightly, "Come here, now.", she demanded with her arms crossing. Y/N did not obey the command, she remained quiet behind the pillar. For minutes it consisted of painful sharp silence, only the sound of her terrified heart beats could be heard. Her ears burned and rung, it desperately needed the assurance Alcina was still idle. Did Y/N dare look beyond the pillar? She peeked over and Alcina was no where to be found. Consternation filled her as there wasn't even a trace of evidence to signify the direction Alcina went. Unexpectedly, Y/N felt a hard blow and collapsed on her side. Her hands releasing themselves, and a gasp of air evacuated her mouth. " Oh, I see. ", Alcina had kicked her, her foot pressed hard against her side. Her smooth leg exposed, tracing all the way to her innermost thigh. Her skin looked smooth like porcelain, but certainly felt the weight of heavy boulders as it rested on her. Y/N groaned in pain as she felt her foot dig deep into her. "Bleeding out on my perfect floors. Oh, what a mess. Although, it does certainly smells of of tart berries, yes, what a wonderful aroma.", Alcina breathed in the cold air, inhaling hints of Y/N's blood. She moaned in intoxication to the alluring smell of fresh blood. Alcina removed her foot from Y/N, she gasped for air in relief, and tried to attempt to sit up. Alcina quickly lunged forward without even a blink, and her long hand wrapped around Y/N's throat. "No, I don't think so.", Alcina smirked as her hand squeezed around her throat. She fell onto her back, the large vampress towering over, her large hand pressing into her throat.She was capable of breathing but it was incredibly taxing especially with the critical condition she was in. Desperate wheezing filled the air, it burned and stung inside of Y/N's throat. Alcina stared into her eyes, a long red smile stretched upon her pale white face. "Hmm, this is quite boring already. I am quite famished too.", she released her grip, ascended and brought her arms to her bosom to cross them. Y/N began to violently cough and gag as proper air flow returned to her lungs. After several minutes of constant heaving, she finally managed to collect herself. "Come.", Alcina ordered as she turned on the balls of her feet and waltzed to the bath. Y/N submitted, too exhausted to resist any longer. She barely could stand but managed, she approached Alcina with her eyes fixed on her every move. " My little one lacks control. Just as I would suspect with her age. If she doesn't stop stabbing you, you'll die. And I really have grown addicted to your flavor as well. I really would hate for you to bleed out one day because of her reckless actions.", she expressed with a sigh of annoyance. Suddenly, a knock interrupted her rambling, " Lady Dimitrescu,", it was the blonde vampire. Alcina let out another sigh in annoyance. "Yes?", she responded with a disinterested tone, as she crossed her arms a little more snug. Revealing a distracting amount of cleavage being pressed together. " Is Y/N in there?", she sniffed loudly as she strived to rattle the door knob open. " Yes, but I require her. I will discuss with you later some important matters. For the mean time, please do not disturb me and I'll return to you soon.", Alcina said sternly as her fingers drummed the top of her arms impatiently. "Yes, Lady Dimitrescu. ", the blonde vampire responded with pure disappointment in her tone.

"Now, where were we? Oh, yes. I've decided you will become my little feeding pet. My daughters do not know how to handle food without killing it. So you are now only mine. Clear?", she lowered herself and grabbed Y/N by the face. Turning her face side to side to examine the condition she was in. Y/N nodded to the best of her abilities, and quickly, Alcina released her. "Good. I'm glad you are willing. I want you to undress now." Embarassment flooded Y/N's mind, her cheeks buzzing with warmth. Why would she even demand that? " I intend on drinking the blood thats already spilling out of you. But I won't drink it while its been dragged around by a rusty sickle and pressed against the dirty floor.", her refined side was definitely exposed. She was different from her daughters, she wanted her meals much more virtuous. " Oh, now, now. I will even join you. They say when two are bathing they are equals.", she added as she disrobed herself. Gently she slide the robe off her shoulders and down her large breasts, as the robe began to flutter down to the marble. Her naked body exposed, and remarkable. Her large breasts sitting perky, her puffy areolas a light grey, and her waist down was incredibly curvy. Absolutely, a full figured silhouette. She dipped her feet in and followed by submerging her body into the bathwater. She let out a sound of relaxation as she smirked and beckoned Y/N. "Come, now."

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To be continued...

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

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we'll cast some light and you'll be alright (for now)

another fic, for y'all! more angst and mama Alci!

TW: Rape

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The man-thing beneath her was shuddering in pain, trying to scramble backward with only one arm, as the other was busy pressing against the gash in his side, trying to stem the heavy bleeding. His expression was a mix between revulsion and terror. As deep as it was, he would live. Maybe.

But he wouldn’t get that chance.

He didn’t beg or scream when his heart was ripped out, which irked his attacker, but it didn’t matter. The creature standing above him was satisfied, having obtained what she had come for. He was lucky she wasn’t either one of her sisters, who would have prolonged his death a lot longer than she had, milking out every last drop of suffering they could before his life force finally faded away into nothingness. She had better things to do than play cat and mouse with some incompetent human. Like returning the heart to her mother.

Bela’s chest warmed with pride as she gazed down at the dripping muscular organ cupped in her hands. It wasn’t often that Mother got to eat the heart of a man, and when she did, it was usually in the context of a raid on the castle, sort of dulling the effect of getting to consume such a treat. But now no damage would be made because Bela had managed to retrieve one all by herself! And Mother would be able to indulge in the warmth and sweet blood and would be so proud of her!

She swelled with delight as she began creeping away from the body, holding the heart delicately. Her sisters never understood why she was always reaching for Mother’s praise, but she couldn’t understand why they didn’t. Didn’t they want to please her? Make her happy? Get all of her praise and love and affection?

Bela’s thoughts were then rudely interrupted by something sharp snapping down around her ankle and yanking her to the ground. She let out a cry of pain, unable to bite it back in the face of so much discomfort. She shifted over and shakily reached out to see what had caught her.

A bear trap. Clamped around her left leg, just above the ankle. Her right hand gripped the limb tightly, slightly over where the metallic teeth bared into her flesh. One sporadic tremor was all it took to send new currents of torture up her leg. And, once again, there was no stifling her tormented scream from ripping out of her throat. Now both hands were clutching at the appendage, trying desperately to lessen the pain. It did little to help.

“Shit,” Bela hissed. “Shit, shit, shit!”

She attempted to pry the jaws of the artificial beast from her leg again, but her arms were shaking too much and the torment that seized her body prevented her from using all her strength; all of it was quickly being stolen away within her. Before she could get the teeth more than an inch away, the slickness of the blood caused it to slip from her grasp and bite right back to where it was originally. Just like that, she was back at square one.

Bela took several shuddering breaths and looked up at the sky. Now she knew why Mother didn’t like her and her sisters hunting alone. There was no one there to help her when she got into situations like this.

What had she been thinking? She was supposed to be the smart one! She was supposed to be the level-headed, calm one that didn’t do stupid things! She let her own need for praise blind her and now she was trapped.

There was snapping from within the dark woods around her. Bela’s head whipped up. Footsteps were approaching her- multiple footsteps. She bristled and made herself look as fierce as possible, despite the pain she was in.

A group of human men, around ten, if she counted correctly, broke through the brambles, armed with guns and axes and pitchforks, and stared down at her. A handful of them looked terrified at the sight of her, while the others smirked. Something sadistic was flashing in their eyes. They looked…hungry.

Bela tried to shake herself free from the bear trap when they approached her, but the iron teeth didn’t relent its vicious bite. They swarmed her, grabbing her limbs and holding her down. At first, she thought it was to take aim to kill her precisely, but then she noticed the very distinct bulges in their trousers and felt her chest seize in horror.

“Stop!” she yelled, finding her voice, which was wavering and shaky. “Let me go, you bastards!”

The men merely laughed at her threat. They seemed less scared of her when they had her ensnared as they did.

The leader of the pack, a scruffy man-thing with dark amber eyes, began to make a mess of her chest. His friends were pinning her wrists above her head, leaving her helpless to his assault. Slimy trails of saliva were left across her breasts; she cringed.

“Stop!”

When hands began to quest beneath her dress, she spasmed, fighting with all her strength. She managed to get an arm free and slashed her claws at one of the men beside her, ripping open dark red furrows along his skin.

“You bitch!” he shrieked, grasping at the gashes across his forearm. Blood seeped through his brown tunic. He looked fearfully at his friends. “What do I do?”

“Clean it,” one of them said.

“Will that be enough?”

“Enough for what?”

The man Bela had wounded shifted, looking anxious. “What if I turn into one of them?”

“That’s not how that works, dumbass,” piped up another man.

While they were distracted by each other, Bela squirmed harder. She tried to summon her insects, but her head was smashed against what she thought was a jagged rock; she swore she could hear the sickening sound of bones breaking upon impact. She slumped to the dirt, groaning. Her vision cut out for a moment, and when it returned, she thought she was being surrounded by rabid wolves.

“Creature, look at me while I touch you. That’s just common decency, don’t you think?“

Bela shut her eyes and refused to open them back up. She didn’t want to look. The man straddling her pulled her hair.

“Don’t be rude.”

She could feel more tears coming- how long had she been crying? She shook her head, jerking her limbs, but they were snagged tightly.

“N-No--”

The man-beasts around her cackled.

“Would you look at that,” one of them said. “The monster is cowering.”

“Not much of a terror now is she?” said another, tittering.

“She isn’t so strong once you have her caught,” added a third.

“God, she’s hot. Can we just start already? I want my turn.” a fourth joined in.

Bela whimpered. She couldn’t hide the fact that she was terrified. Her voice was cracking and she sounded snotty. She wanted this to stop right now. She tried to ease away, but they were firmly holding her in place. She kept muttering “no” over and over again, trying to drown out their voices.

The scruffy man leaned over her more, restraining her with his body weight.

“I said,” white-hot pain seared through Bela’s groin, causing her to howl, “look at me while I touch you, creature.”

She was dry, and the friction between her legs burned so intensely that it made her see stars. Within moments of only a few thrusts, she already felt raw. The stinging only increased.

All at once, she felt everything: the pain in between her legs, the dirty fingernails raking down her sides, the hands that raised up to fondle her breasts, the teeth on her neck, the tongue in her mouth, the bear trap around her ankle, the blazing heat that bloomed within her stomach… Then, she felt nothing at all.

--- --- ---

Bela lost track of time rather easily. It all started to blur together, but all she knew was that they tortured her in the woods for hours. Their lust was never-ending, their hunger was insatiable. She felt cowed by their heat, unable to fight back, falling victim to their needy claws.

She wondered why they didn’t kill her. She wished they did. She wanted the pain to go away.

Now, she lay on the damp dirt, naked, barely awake, and struggling to breathe. Her bare stomach was splattered with semen and marred by scratches. Her head was pounding intensely. Her throat felt red and raw. Her eyes were stinging and still leaking tears.

Had anyone noticed she was gone? Was Mother or her sisters worried about her? Were they looking for her?

Did they care?

Bela pushed herself up slowly; the pain was unbearable. It was a constant, aching thing in her stomach that never seemed to relent its throbbing assault. Hot coals were shoveled into each part of her body when she tried to move again, stoking the raging fires burning inside of her. Her muscles crackled painfully from the strain of getting up but were quickly overcome by a brighter, even sharp sensation in her left leg.

Right. She was still caught in the bear trap.

If this situation couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Bela struggled with the iron jaws for several eternal moments, sobbing harder each time her attempts failed. She eventually managed to pry the teeth loose and yank her ankle free, falling backward into the dirt and leaves and sending little lightning bolts alight throughout her entire body. She wept.

Eventually, awareness returned to her and she realized she had to get home. She had to get out of this forest. She had to get away.

She cleaned off her belly and legs and tried to do the same for her vagina, but it seized up the moment her hands got near, so she left it be. She put on her dress, which was in tatters and reeked of sex, but it was better than wearing nothing at all. The blood congealing between her thighs squelched uncomfortably when she began walking back to the castle, limping heavily on her injured ankle as she went. It bubbled and smeared and stuck on her skin, sometimes running down the length of her legs, but she couldn’t bother to wipe it away. She just wanted her mother.

It took a lot longer than it should have to get back to the castle, and when she did finally make it, she couldn’t go any further. Her knees buckled and the ground rushed up to meet her. She curled up into a fetal position, shaking all over, weeping again. She didn’t know how her body managed to still produce tears after crying so much, but there was wetness in her eyes and running down her cheeks. She trembled.

“Mother…”

Her voice came out weak and brittle. Frail.

“Mother…”

Maybe if she hadn’t been in so much agony, she would have cared more about being seen in such a state. But she didn’t care about anything. Not anymore. All she wanted was to curl up in her mother’s arms and never leave.

“Mother…”

The tears were coming down faster. Would anyone come for her? Did her mother care? Or was she to be left like this? She knew she probably looked like a sorry excuse for a beast, a waste of an experiment, better to be killed off so nobody would have to suffer her insolence, but she didn’t think Mother would be the one to turn her back on her. She whimpered.

“Mama!”

She should have known. She had it coming, didn’t she? Despite being the oldest, she was always the last in everything when it came to being a bloodthirsty beast. Didn’t hunt very well because she felt bad for the animals, was willing to submit to her younger sisters because she didn’t always know how to command situations, preferred to spend her time reading instead of participating in bloodsports, tried to avoid conflict because she didn’t enjoy getting her hands dirty, couldn’t even defend herself from human men…

It all made so much sense now.

She didn’t deserve to see Mother.

Footsteps were coming from one of the hallways. Someone was emerging into the light of the foyer. Bela, with her eyes bleary and mind hazed, couldn’t help but think it was one of the men returning for a second round. She tried to crawl away, whimpering.

Hands seized her and she screamed.

“No! NO!”

But it was too late. Too late.

--- --- ---

Alcina was first alerted by the smell before she even heard the mewls. The rank, disgusting stench of man semen entered her castle, so strong she was able to catch it from down in the basement, where every scent was usually overpowered by blood. But the pungent odor of filthy sperm managed to reach her like a wriggling maggot, and she instantly thought one of the maids had grown some courage and snuck a consort into her palace. She didn’t even think to consider what it actually had been because she never thought that such a thing would happen to one of her girls. It wasn’t something any mother should have to fear happening to their daughters.

Mounting the staircase, Alcina couldn’t help but chuckle at the foolishness of her maids. Did they truly think they could get something like this past her? Did they think they were being sneaky? She could smell their lust from a mile away.

However, as she exited out into the hallway, something new tickled her nose. The scent of semen was now mingled with blood and sweat and the faint smell of dirt. But there was something else, too. A noise. A word.

“Mother…”

Alcina perked up. Despite the faintness, she could easily pick out the voice of her eldest daughter.

“Bela?” she called back to her child.

For a moment, there was no response. At first, that wasn’t very concerning; Bela had always been the quiet type, always taking the time to consider her words instead of blurting the first thing that came to her mind like her younger sisters did. But with the intrusive smell wafting down the halls and the hoarseness she spoke with, Alcina couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.

“Mother…”

“Bela,” Alcina said. She searched for buzzing beetles or flies, but couldn’t hear or see any. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had even seen her eldest daughter.

That, too, wasn’t very concerning, either. Bela had a tendency to tuck herself away in various rooms for hours, indulging herself in books and studies, always fascinated to know more about absolutely everything. Sometimes, it was the library. Other times, one of the parlors. But sometimes it could be a random maid closet that nobody would ever think to sit and read in or a hidden room behind one of the many tapestries that made searching for her an elaborate scavenger hunt of trying to remember which weaving had already been checked or a specific corner in a specific room that nobody really went into anymore because there was nothing important inside. Alcina vividly remembered the time she nearly tore the castle apart searching for her eldest child because she couldn’t find her anywhere and she wasn’t answering her when she called. It turned out that Bela, younger at the time, was in a small back room Alcina had completely forgotten existed, playing midwife with a laboring opossum and trying to feed the mother her beetles. Bela had turned to her, bright-eyed, and said, “Possum.” She then proceeded to give her an elaborate, in-depth explanation on the process of birth, radiating pride the entire time, completely oblivious to Alcina’s panic.

It then became a rule to never kill opossums for Bela’s sake. And they were, admittedly, a little cute.

However, like with the hoarseness Bela spoke in, something was off. Very off.

The blood mingling with the scent of sperm- that was her daughter’s blood.

“Mother…”

Alcina sprung into motion.

“Bela!” she called. She kept the panic from oozing into her voice, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet, but her hurried stride was enough to convey her alarm. “Where are you, my sweet? Come to Mother.”

She stopped to listen for the buzzing of insect wings or even just footsteps on polished tile, but there were neither. There was, however, a very distinct cry that made her veins fill with black ice.

“Mama!”

Alcina charged down the hallway, adrenaline pumping madly through her entire body. A pair of quietly conversing maids saw her coming and jumped out of the way, pressing close to the walls. They should thank their lucky stars for their quick reflexes because she would have flayed them if they had gotten in her way.

“Bela!” She was shouting, now. “Where are you? Bela!”

She didn’t stop to listen this time, but she did strain her ears. There were no noises in response, not even an utter. She picked up her pace.

Alcina broke out into the grand foyer and three things slammed into her at once: first, the overwhelming stench of semen that was so thick and heavy she could almost taste it when she breathed through her mouth; second, the chill seeping in through the half-open front door; and third, the crumpled form of her eldest daughter curled up on the floor, shaking all over.

“Bela!”

Alcina rushed over to Bela’s side, noticing the way she tried to crawl away with bruised limbs. However, it wasn’t until she set her hands on her child’s shoulder that Bela let out a heart-wrenching scream.

“No! NO!”

Alcina snapped her hands away as though she had touched fire. Words could not begin to explain how awful it was to be a mother and be stared at with so much horror by her baby. Bela looked downright terrified of her--and then she noticed a sort of glaze in her eyes, as though she were peering out from a dirty window. She didn’t seem to be seeing Alcina as her mother, but as someone or something that struck great fear inside of her.

“Bela,” Alcina spoke softly. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

Bela shook her head and tried to shield her face with her arms, all while weeping, “No more, no more…”

Anger sparked deep within Alcina. Who could have possibly scarred her baby so badly that she didn’t even recognize her own mother?

Taming her rage so she wouldn’t scare Bela, Alcina reached out and lightly brushed Bela’s shoulder again, making her flinch and whimper sharply. The black dress she was wearing was in tatters, barely clinging to her frame, and the skin that laid underneath was grimy and scraped. It looked like she had gotten into a fight with a wolf and lost, but Alcina could tell this was much, much worse than anything a mangy hound could do.

“Bela,” Alcina said again. “My darling. It’s only me. Your mother. You’re safe. You’re alright.”

Bela peeked out of her arms reluctantly, and the eye that peered up at Alcina was clouded with tears. She blinked several times, as though she were trying to dispel a dense fog shrouding her vision, and then recollection seemed to dawn on her.

“Mama?” Bela croaked, her voice hoarse and weak. Her breathing, once shallow and wheezy, began to thicken, becoming heavier and more ragged as the seconds ticked by. The incessant shivering that infected her frame worsened until Alcina thought her eyeballs may just rattle right out of her skull. She whimpered.

“Yes, my love. It’s me.”

“Mama,” Bela said again. A fresh hurricane of tears stormed her eyes, pouring down her cheeks. “Mama!”

Bela collapsed into Alcina’s arms, sobbing. Instantly, the stench of semen increased tenfold, plugging Alcina’s nostrils and tickling her tongue. She fought the urge to gag. How anyone could thirst for such a poison was unknown to her, but there wasn’t time to meddle in human mating preferences. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the girl shaking and bleating like a baby lamb against her stomach.

Alcina pulled Bela closer to her, not caring about the odor anymore. She looked over her daughter, finding more scratches and rips in her dress, but also a large red patch on the back of her head, where the blonde hair was turned scarlet with blood. There was also a nasty ring around her left ankle that looked like it had been created by some kind of beast, leaking crimson and clear serous fluid. Protectiveness flared inside of her like fire.

“What happened?” Alcina asked, unable to keep the growl out of her voice. “Who did this to you?”

Bela flinched away. Her weeping turned to words and what came out was babbled nonsense: “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m sorry--”

“Hush, my sweet,” Alcina said, but Bela was too worked up to listen to her right now.

“No, no--” Bela shook her head, wincing as she did so. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault! I’m s-sorry!”

Alcina’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Bela sniffled. Alcina wondered if she could smell the stink on her, too.

“I-- I went out hunting. Alone. Even though you forbid it.” Her daughter hung her head shamefully, letting Alcina glimpse the wound on the back of her skull again. “I wanted-- I wanted to get you something. A gift. And I had one, too! The heart of a man! But then-- but then I got caught in a hunter’s trap and-- and--” She dissolved into tears once again.

Alcina frowned. She always knew her eldest child’s hopeless devotion to her would get her into trouble. As much as she loved how Bela looked up to her, even she had to admit that it was rather worrying. Bela seemed to function solely on praise, always scratching for any ounce of approval, wanting only to please Alcina, even if it meant throwing her own needs out the window. Alcina remembered how she once briefly mentioned how nice it would be to hear her favorite song on piano and Bela interpreted that as a request, so she taught herself how to play the entire melody over the span of three days. As beautiful as the performance had been, Bela hadn’t slept or eaten or drank anything in that time, taking away her own basic needs until she finished her “task.” She never thought about herself and her body made her pay the price for it when she blacked out instantly after playing. Now history was repeating itself all over again--but, this time, it wasn’t her own immune system that exacted a fiery punishment upon her. That much was clear from Bela’s terror.

“Bela,” Alcina said. “Who hurt you? What did they do to you?”

Bela’s shoulder shook violently with the weight of her sobs. She didn’t look up at Alcina, much too ashamed of herself. Alcina could tell that much. Her daughter was practically radiating chagrin as much as she radiated emission.

“You can tell me, darling,” Alcina urged, softening her tone. “I won’t be mad at you.”

Bela peeked up at her nervously. Her face was blotchy and red, shiny with sweat and tears. “You-- you won’t?”

“I won’t,” Alcina assured her. “I promise. I would never get mad at you.”

Bela hesitated. She appeared to be trying to calm herself down, but it all fell apart when she shifted and seemed to be struck with great pain because she let out a heart-wrenching cry and curled up in Alcina’s arms, grasping at her dress with desperate claws. When she attempted to speak, Alcina could only make out snippets in between ragged gasps and distressed whimpers and heavy sobs.

“They-- men-- came at me-- too many-- couldn’t fight-- tried-- held me down-- touched me-- so scared-- hurts-- Mama-- Mama, it hurts!”

Alcina understood.

Alcina understood and she saw red.

An animalistic snarl that could frighten wolves bubbled from her throat and she bared her sharp teeth at the front door that was still slightly ajar, letting frigid, late-autumn air creep inside like an unwanted guest. She clenched Bela tighter against her, her claws beginning to grow in and hook into her daughter protectively, not quite realizing how much strength she was using until Bela squealed in pain. Instantly, her grip loosened, her talons retracted, her teeth tucked away back behind her lips, and she jerked her head to the side, yelling for a maid. One came rather quickly, and she had the sneaking suspicion that they were being spied on, but it didn’t matter. It was beneath her at the moment. Far beneath her.

“Run a hot bath in my room,” Alcina ordered. She tucked Bela in close to her stomach, trying to hide her ruined form from prying eyes. Nobody deserved to see the girl in such a state, certainly not a lowly maid.

The maid, a lanky, ash brown-haired young woman, nodded hastily, not even sparing Bela a glance, which Alcina appreciated. This one would be spared for a while.

A noise alerted Alcina, and she looked down to see that Bela was prattling on nonsensically, her watery words half-muffled by her dress.

“I’m so sorry-- didn’t mean it-- all my fault-- shouldn’t have gone-- should have known better-- don’t deserve this--”

The last comment in particular caught Alcina like a fishhook. She squeezed Bela tightly.

“Do not say that,” she said firmly. “You deserve my care. You are very unwell, Bela.”

Bela shook her head, whimpering. “It’s my fault it happened. I shouldn’t-- I shouldn’t have-- I shouldn’t--” Her breathing picked up.

“Bela, my sweet girl, take a breath,” Alcina said. “It’s alright. You need to breathe.”

Bela just shook her head again and buried her face back into Alcina’s stomach, not offering anymore words. She didn’t seem to be up to talking further. Alcina rubbed up and down her back to comfort her as they waited for the maid to return.

Alcina wasn’t sure how long she was crouched on the floor, breathing in the fumes of ejaculate, but the maid eventually came back, notifying her that the bath was ready. She sent her away before scooping Bela up into her arms, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from her daughter. Bela buried her face against her neck, shuddering, and Alcina felt hot tears slither down over her collarbone. Alcina cooed to Bela to calm her down as she carried her to her bedroom.

Inside the bathroom, Alcina carefully removed Bela’s dress. Every movement seemed to hurt her daughter, so she worked gently, not wanting to worsen her discomfort. Once the gown was off, she threw the tattered fabric into the far corner. It would need to be burned.

Now that Bela wasn’t wearing anything, Alcina could see the full extent of her wounds. Angry red scratch marks were scored up and down her back, sides, and stomach like some kind of sick point system, some crusted on the edges with blood and discharge, others flaked with mud and dirt. Purple bite marks were scattered on her neck and breasts, as though the men who had attacked her were the blood-sucking beasts and she was the cattle. Her thin wrists were swollen in the distinct maroon shape of fingerprints and her thighs were splattered in bruises and smeared with red--among other sick-smelling fluids.

The sight made Alcina absolutely enraged, but she stamped down her fury for the sake of her daughter. As much as she wanted to go find the monsters who did this, Bela needed her. She couldn’t just leave her.

“Alright, my darling,” Alcina said. “Let’s get you washed off.”

Bela didn’t fight her when Alcina lifted her up and set her into the hot water. In fact, she didn’t seem to be all too there anymore, too lost in her own shock and pain. She just stared numbly at the wall with half-lidded, glazed-over eyes as Alcina washed her shoulders and back and hair. Even cleaning the wound on the back of her head didn’t wake her up, despite the way she flinched in reaction to the pain.

“Bela.” Alcina gave Bela’s cheek a light pat. “My darling. Look at me.”

Bela blinked and her eyes focused on her. Alcina smiled softly at her.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Alcina cooed.

“Mama,” Bela rasped. Her head lolled back, resting against the wall the bathtub was situated against. “Hurts…”

Alcina frowned. She had a few draughts to relieve pain, but she didn’t trust the maids to get the right kind of medicine for her daughters. Not anymore. Not since Cassandra had asked for an elixir that would soothe some tooth pain she was having and a maid swapped it out for poison with the intent of killing her. Alcina had found her precious child seizing on the ground, foaming at the mouth, drowning in her own blood and froth. She vividly remembered watching Bela reach in with her fingers and scoop out the fluids from Cassandra’s mouth to keep her sister from choking further. If it weren’t for Bela’s quick thinking and excessive knowledge on poisons from spending so much time researching everything, Alcina may have lost a child that day. The maid, of course, was punished severely. When she was done with her, she wasn’t even recognizable. That being said, she would have to go and retrieve the brew herself.

Of course, there were her other two children, but she trusted them as much as she trusted the maids. Ever since Daniela and Cassandra had peer pressured Bela into drinking a random mixture they found--something about her needing to be more headstrong and stop letting them walk all over her--and Bela ended up being incredibly dizzy and unwell for several hours because that particular tonic had the strength to knock out a horse, she didn’t have the most faith that her younger daughters would grab the right bottle, whether it be intentional or not.

So that left her. Looking over Bela’s state, she knew the girl wouldn’t be happy if she went away for even a minute, but she didn’t have a choice. She would have to risk upsetting her daughter so she could relieve her of her pain.

But first, however, she needed Bela to feed, to regain at least some of her strength and consciousness.

Alcina tore open her wrist with her teeth and then pressed it to Bela’s lips. Bela instantly flinched back, her eyes popping open wide.

“It’s just me, darling,” Alcina murmured. “Just me. You’re okay.”

Bela blinked at her hazily, then looked at her bleeding wrist. Tentatively, she began to feed from it, sucking nervously from Alcina’s veins.

“Good girl,” Alcina cooed.

Despite the praise, however, Bela pulled back after only a few seconds, a look of sickness on her face. When Alcina urged her to feed more, she shook her head and shrunk away with a whimper, snaking her arms around her stomach.

“Alright,” Alcina said. “I’m going to leave for just a moment, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Bela’s head jerked up. She shook it furiously.

“I’m going to go get something that will help with the pain,” Alcina told her, caressing her cheek. “Just stay calm for me. I won’t be long.”

Bela whimpered and fretted like a baby animal as Alcina left the bathroom, but she forced herself to keep from rushing back to her side. She retrieved two different draughts, both in dark vials, and returned quickly, just as she had promised. However, she seemed to be gone long enough for something else to happen because when she walked back inside the bathroom, the bathtub was empty, the floor had turned into the equivalent of a small lake, and Bela was on her hands and knees in front of the toilet, throwing up.

“My baby!”

Alcina nearly slipped in the water on the ground as she rushed to her daughter’s side. It seemed Bela had scrambled out of the bathtub in a hurry. Her dress became damp as she knelt down, but she could hardly care. She swept Bela’s hair out of the way and rubbed her back as she retched.

“Mama,” Bela moaned once she finished. She looked up at Alcina, a thin line of bile dribbling down the side of her mouth, her eyes bright with tears. “It hurts…”

“I know, darling,” Alcina stroked her cheek. “It’ll be okay soon. I have something for you that may help.”

She showed Bela the vials. Usually, Bela would start guessing what they were, always eager to show off her knowledge on these kinds of things, but she didn’t seem to care about what they were. She just seemed exhausted, hollow, drained. Empty.

Alcina was going to kill the animals that did this to her baby.

Alcina uncapped the first vial. It smelled strongly of herbs. She pressed it to Bela’s lips, and Bela sipped obediently.

“This will help with the pain,” she informed. “And this,” she opened the second vial, this one smelling faintly of alcohol. “This will purge any disgusting parasites those beasts put in you. Drink, my sweet. Rid your body of their toxins.”

Bela obeyed again, drinking it all. If she didn’t like the taste, she didn’t show it aside from a twitch of her nose.

“Now,” Alcina set both vials aside. “Do you think you can try feeding for me again?”

Bela nodded. Alcina gave her a warm smile, then pricked the same wound on her wrist and held it out to Bela. Bela latched on and began drinking her blood, this time not pulling away.

“That’s my good girl,” Alcina cooed, stroking Bela’s head with her other hand. She knew her blood would soothe Bela’s abused throat, even if it hurt to swallow. The warmth was good for her regardless. Wash away the taste. Force down whatever stickiness was still latched against her esophagus.

She wouldn’t be able to tame her anger for much longer.

When Bela finished drinking, Alcina had her wash down in the bath one more time before drying and dressing her. Her ankle still seemed to be an issue, swelling up and inflaming red, so she flushed it out with alcohol. It earned her claw marks in her shoulders when Bela clung to her and cried in reaction to the burn, but it was worth it if it meant warding off any infection.

Alcina carried Bela to the bed, already knowing she wouldn’t want to be alone. It took a moment for Bela to get comfortable, twisting and turning when both her stomach and back proved to cause her pain, before finally settling on her side, curled up tightly against Alcina’s warmth. Alcina kept her arms around her, soothing her when she got restless until, finally, she relaxed.

Or, as relaxed as someone who just got raped could be.

The thought made Alcina so angry. So fucking angry. Of all her daughters, why Bela? She would hate for this to happen to any of them, but Bela had never done anything wrong. She didn’t have the same sadism as her younger sisters. She was merciful. Even if that made her a faulty beast, she deserved this least of all.

Alcina knew Bela probably wouldn’t sleep very much, and she knew that was to be expected. She was prepared for it. She knew how this worked.

But still. Revenge couldn’t go unserved.

She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Daniela! Cassandra!”

--- --- ---

“Daniela! Cassandra!”

Bela’s head snapped up. “No, Mama, no--”

Mother frowned down at her. She caressed her cheek, and Bela couldn’t help but press into her hand hungrily. She craved her mother’s touch in a way she couldn’t explain. She wanted it forever and always. She desired it as much as she desired her praise. But right now, even it couldn’t dispel the building panic mounting within her.

“Please, Mama, I don’t want them to-- they can’t-- please--”

But it was too late.

The sound of buzzing stormed into the room, and Bela hid her face against her mother’s dress. She couldn’t let her sisters see her like this.

Cassandra came in first, materializing out of a swarm of beetles and roaches, then Daniela, who took shape from a seething of blowflies and gnats. Even without looking up, Bela could feel their eyes bearing into her. She tried to hide beneath the blankets, but was unwilling to separate herself from her mother’s warmth. She wished it could just be the two of them, as much as she loved her sisters.

“What’s going on?” Cassandra asked.

“I need you to watch your sister,” Mother answered. “She is unwell.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t the oldest not need any care?”

Daniela nudged her, tittering. “This is Bela we’re talking about, Cassie. You know how she is. I’m still convinced I was actually the oldest, but Mother just says that Bela is the oldest to help build her confidence.”

“Please. We all know I would be the oldest.”

“Okay, okay, let’s compromise: we’d both be the better oldest sister.”

“That’s fair.”

Bela flinched at their teasing, just barely managing to bite back a whimper. She knew their taunting was always in good fun--most of the time, at least; Daniela sometimes blurred the lines between playful and hurtful--but she still let everything they said get under her skin, as though their insects were burrowing into her.

“Quiet, you two,” Mother scolded lightly. “Bela isn’t well. I’d feel better if she had someone watching over her while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going?” Cassandra asked.

And Daniela, always quick to crack a joke, added, “Damn, Bel, are you that terrible of company?”

Bela whimpered into the folds of Mother’s dress. All it took was one stern glare from Mother to shut Daniela up.

“I’m going to deal with some business,” Mother said, and the venom used in the word ‘business’ suggested she had some terribly bloody plans in store for the men who had assaulted Bela. Bela almost felt sorry for them. Almost. But not enough.

“Can you both do this for me?”

Cassandra and Daniela nodded.

“Thank you, my doves,” Mother said. She then looked down at Bela, stroking the side of her head. “I won’t be long, darling. Your sisters will take care of you. Nothing will happen.”

Bela just barely peeked up at her. She didn’t want Cassandra and Daniela to see her with her face all blotchy and red. She would never hear the end of it if they did.

She gripped tighter to Mother’s dress, burying her face back into the soft fabric. “Please don’t go, Mama,” she begged softly, hoping that her sisters couldn’t hear her quavering.

Mother caressed the side of her head. “I must, sweetheart. I can’t let them get away with what they did to you. I won’t stand for it.”

“But you’re sitting down,” Daniela put in helpfully, and Cassandra snorted into her hand. They both shut up when Mother gave them a sharp look, but Bela didn’t miss the small, fond smile that twitched on Mother’s lips.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Mother said.

A kiss was pressed to the top of Bela’s head, and she realized this wasn’t a fight she would be able to win. Her claws were gently pried loose from the dress and the warmth she had been desperately clinging to disappeared, replaced by a chill that infected her heart like talons of ice.

“Play nice,” Mother said to Cassandra and Daniela before whisking out of the room in a hurry, her claws already brandished.

For a moment, silence was left behind. Then, a body bounced onto the bed next to Bela, and Bela flinched away. She curled up in the blankets, burying her face in the softness as Daniela got uncomfortably close.

“So…” Daniela started, practically speaking in Bela’s ear. “What happened? You seem pretty messed up.”

Bela didn’t answer. She didn’t trust her voice to not waver if she did. She couldn’t handle any more humiliation.

“I think she got her tongue cut out,” Daniela said to Cassandra.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “We literally just heard her talking. Explain that.”

“It fell off?”

Cassandra coughed to hide a laugh. She then poked Bela in the side, causing Bela to whimper in pain when a particularly sore area ached in response.

“Seriously, though. What’s wrong with you?”

Bela didn’t even know where to begin. There was so much to unpack in such a short amount of time. Their naked bodies, their disheveled hair, their sweaty penises inside her. Those animals pinning her down, licking her, forcing themselves into her, smashing their mouths against hers, clawing and grasping and groping. Their heavy breaths in her ears, the purrs about her being “so pretty for a monster,” the laughter when she tried to escape. Her own voice, ringing hollow in her mouth, and her blood, smeared all over.

She couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t handle it.

Another whimper bubbled forth. Bela began to cry into the blankets, unable to keep her emotions at bay. It was all too much for her.

“Aww,” Daniela cooed, and Bela couldn’t tell if she was being patronizing or genuine. “Poor thing.”

Her head was then cradled against Daniela’s chest, wrapped in both of her sister’s arms. Daniela stroked her hair with her claws, trying to be comforting, but the effect was sort of negated when her talons repeatedly brushed over the sensitive welt on the back of Bela’s head. Still, Bela appreciated the gesture, even if she was continuously wincing and growing nauseous with pain.

“Well, whatever it was,” Cassandra said. “Mother is dealing with it.”

“I hope she brings something back,” Daniela said wistfully.

Bela really hoped she didn’t. She didn’t want to see a single piece of those men, even if they were mangled and bloodied.

Shutting her eyes tightly, Bela tried to imagine that Daniela was her mother. She wanted Mother back already, and it was that clinginess that made her feel pathetic and weak. Weaker and more pathetic than she already knew she was.

Yes, it was always Bela who would rather read books than participate in torture. Bela, who was the reason they couldn’t feast on opossums. Bela, who was a poor fighter and hunter because she spent all her time learning new information or sewing instead of learning how to defend herself. Bela, who was overly polite to the maids and sometimes made friends with them. Bela, who needed her mommy’s approval to feel good about anything she did because her self-worth and self-confidence were that far into the ground. Bela, who should have been born as anyone else and could never live up to her own standards.

The tears came faster. Bela’s shoulders began to shake as she cried. She wanted Mother back. She didn’t care how pathetic that made her. She needed her mom.

“Mama,” Bela sobbed, momentarily forgetting that she wasn’t alone, but she didn’t even register the embarrassment at the moment. She was too overwhelmed with her own pitiful separation anxiety and uselessness.

“It’s okay, Bel,” Daniela said, scratching her head as though she were a hound. “Mother will be back soon!”

‘Soon’ ended up being an hour and a half, and by then, Bela was sure she had chased their mother away with her burden.

But then, the bedroom door slammed open and there was Mother, as clean as she was when she had left. However, she was wearing a different dress and there was a visible loss of tension in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Daniela shook Bela. “Bel, look! She’s back!”

Bela’s head snapped up. Mother gave her a loving smile.

“Hello, darling.”

“Mama,” Bela reached for her mother, not caring how childish it made her, and Mother obliged to her beckoning, sweeping over and bundling her into her warm arms. Bela curled up immediately, relaxing considerably.

“I told you I would be back,” Mother said, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

Bela couldn’t reply. She just nuzzled in closer. She felt her sisters press into either side of Mother, but she didn’t mind. She was just happy to be secure, even if she didn’t deserve it.

Before those men were inside of her, she was inside of herself. She had a feeling that they wouldn’t be leaving for awhile, even now that they were dead, but she could cope with it, as long as her mother was there to hold her together.

She just wished she had grabbed the heart.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil fanfic #we'll cast some light and you'll be alright (for now)#tw: rape

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years

Text

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS NIGHTMARES

Read THE OBEY ME UNDATEABLES AS NIGHTMARES here.

TW: Blood, Violence, Gore

BELPHEGOR

He is there when you awaken, and he is there when you fall asleep. He is in the reflection of your bathroom mirror in the morning, and he is in the reflection of your water glass in the evening. He is in the corner of the classroom when you give your first lecture to your students, and he is at the end of the bar when you go out for drinks after work. He is in the backside of the spoon when you eat oatmeal in the morning, and he is in the blade of the knife when you make yourself dinner in the evening.

You had thought nothing of it at first. A mere trick of the light. Some hallucination of a tired mind. The stress of a long, difficult day at work. Any reason you could think of to explain the phenomenon, plausible or not – God, you’ve used them all.

Then he began to come closer. Smiling. Always smiling. Waiting for you to take a nap, to close your eyes, or to even let your guard down for the briefest of moments. He had stood, smiled, and waited. For a while you had managed to hold him off – pitchers of coffee, energy drinks, slapping yourself awake – but even you cannot stay awake forever. And so for the first time in many, many days, you had slept.

It is only a matter of time. He was beside your bed this morning, wasn’t he? Of course he was. His face was inches from yours, watching and waiting. Smiling, smiling, smiling. You do not think you can stay awake any longer.

LUCIFER

Your throat is so very hoarse. Your fingers bleed as they strum the harp, your thoughts are nearly devoid of any other sonnet you can possibly sing, and the rest of your body aches from being forced to sit for such a long period of time. But you cannot stop. Not if you want to live.

The king – a peacock, of all things – lounges on his throne, crooning and humming along with your nearly nonsensical words. You do not know if they are praises. For the sake of your remaining fingers and toes, you hope they are.

MAMMON

The tasks had gotten increasingly more difficult to complete. Fetch the white crow a pilfered necklace here, pickpocket a few coins for him there. Fence a bit of jewelry from a passing nobleman or whatnot. Pilfer armor from the local blacksmith. The crow had once wanted simple, easy things, much as one would expect of a beast, and you had allowed yourself to fall deeper and deeper into debt.

Then he had changed, and you had no choice but to follow his wishes.

He had demanded a lock of hair from a condemned witch, and you had given it to him. He had demanded the finger of a prisoner, and you had given it to him. He had demanded the hands of a seamstress, and you had given it to him. He had demanded the eye of a blind man. The tongue of a singer. The feet of a messenger. The hide of a tanner. The torn-out nails of a blacksmith. Then there was his final request, and even then you knew that you could not deny him.

The crow looms before you. His white feathers ruffle in displeasure. The golden bowl and carving knife sits at your feet, waiting. You can only regard them with trepidation.

You aren’t quite sure if you can carve your heart out by yourself.

LEVIATHAN

You remember being afraid. Of sitting huddled in the hold of your great, dark ship, empty of everything but you. They had been nightmares once. You had cupped your hands about your ears as the ship rocked, the storm roared, and that monster – God, that unholy, horrible sea serpent – had screamed with the thunder. Or perhaps he was the thunder. Perhaps he was the storm itself, and you were simply privy to his cries.

You aren’t sure of anything. Not anymore.

The serpent is here. He is lurking beneath the black sea, his coils circling and slithering past the bow of your ship, and he is waiting. He is waiting with his rows of sharp teeth, eyes that blaze like hellfire, and great maw, and he is waiting for you. Only you.

You can no longer deny him.

SATAN

You know that this is only a dream. No, not a dream – this is a goddamned nightmare. You know that this can only be a dream and yet --

And yet.

And yet your lungs burn with exertion, your heart threatens to burst from your chest, and your legs are on the verge of collapse. And yet the blood that runs from your thigh is warm, what is left of your arm is a ravaged, useless mess, and the crimson that stains your eye socket and cheekbone blinds you. The hellbeast lopes somewhere in the black woods before you, behind you, somewhere – and you are completely at its mercy.

The horrible thing is merely playing with you. You’re sure of it. The hellbeast is playing with you much as a cat would bat a mouse between its paws, waiting for it to die. Or perhaps he is waiting to see if you will fight back, just for the amusement. The hellbeast could have very easily torn your heart out, ripped your head from your shoulders, or even impaled you with one shadowy, flickering arm. It had simply chosen not to.

It won’t be long before he catches you. You can only hope your death will be swift.

ASMODEUS

You can’t remember the last time you’ve dreamt, much less the last time you’ve slept. That was a long, long time ago. Before the nightmares came - saturated in all manner of pinks and yellows and blues, sickeningly so – there was a time when you could awaken bright, refreshed, and prepared for the day. There was a time when you could simply shake yourself free of slumber, no matter how tantalizing it was. Dreams and reality, somnolence and wakefulness, what have you – there was a time when you knew the difference between them all.

You had crushed the glass in your hand that day. Watched as the shards dug deep into your palm, the crimson blooming to the surface. Yet his voice was still there, still there, still there – and so you had thrown a mug against the wall, just to see if it would shatter. Just to see if it would hurt.The company had let you go after that.

And so here you are, trapped in the headiness of roses and poison and all sorts of wondrous things. He is waiting for you in the garden. You intend to greet him with open arms.

BEELZEBUB

You can’t remember how long you’ve been sitting at this table. Even the sight of its platters makes you sick. White cakes with fresh whipped cream and strawberries, tea with three sugars and a dollop of milk, fine cucumber sandwiches, tea cakes of all kinds – you’ve tried them all. You’ve had too many, in fact. Every effort to make your stomach sit just a bit more comfortably in your prim and proper get-up nearly makes you burst, and it is all you can do not to vomit or refuse another bite. You know the consequences if you do.

The headless bodies of the other tea party guests are slumped over the table, the stumps bleeding endlessly onto the tablecloth. Despite the constant attention of the insect-like servers to the feast, you’ve yet to see one of them bother to clean up the dead bodies. Half-finished cakes, crumbled biscuits, and spilt tea sit before all of them. Remnants of their grave insults to the host.

The orange beetle offers you yet another slice of pound cake, chittering unintelligibly. You force yourself to take it from him.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me fanfic #writing #fanfic #horror

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stay-outta-my-blood-circle · 3 years

Text

Act 1 | No. 1 - Overture

Overture (noun)

1. A piece of music that serves as an introduction to a larger work.

2. An approach made to someone in order to offer something.

🔊 "Sweet Sacrifice" by Evanescence

Rhiannon traces the outer edge of the butterfly wing with one painted fingernail, admiring the contrast between the purple and gold. Normally she wouldn't snoop, but he has so many lovely things in his office - surely the point was to display them to visitors? And, even if not - what was he going to do about it?

He'd asked to see her, even scheduled a specific time, but he was pulled away just after she'd arrived. He'd said to wait here, that he wouldn't be long. She had no problem with that (classes didn't start for a few more weeks, so she had time), especially when it gave her free reign to peruse his collection.

There were several pinned insects and arachnids, which was unsurprising, but pleasant to look at. There was one particularly large tarantula that she took her time examining before moving on to the bookshelves. These contained mostly entomology texts and the like - again, not shocking - but a few of them looked old, more like collector's items than anything. She leafed gently through a few of those, noting some lovely illustrations.

She did find a few outliers; the book on medieval torture devices was a bit of a surprise. So were the medical and architecture books, though not quite as much - those seemed in line with the kind of side-interests he'd have. She pulled out the torture book and read through some of it, ending up so engrossed in the volume that she doesn't hear him return until he closes the door behind him with a click.

Unhurried, she shuts the book with a quiet snap, places it back in its spot on the shelf, and turns to face him.

"Find something interesting?" He asks, and she picks up the stern foundation in his tone, the way one brow rises slightly - it's subtle, but she picks it up - and she fights not to roll her eyes. If he thinks she's that easy to intimidate, he hasn't been paying attention.

"Maybe," Rhiannon shrugs lightly, then the shadow of a smirk crosses her face. "Why? Got something in here I'm not supposed to see?"

He's silent, but if his gaze were a knife she'd be bleeding.

Finally, quietly, he releases the breath he'd been holding, and some of the tension in the line of his shoulders dissipates. He gestures toward the chair on the other side of his desk - Rhiannon takes it as he moves to sit behind the desk.

"I requested to see you today because I have a job offer for you," he began, and she wasn't surprised he was getting right to the point; she'd never known him to meander through a conversation. "I need a TA this year, and you've traditionally been my best student. Even now that you're in graduate classes."

Well, that was surprising, and Rhiannon didn't bother to hide it in her expression - as far as she knew, he'd never chosen to use a TA before. Not to mention - despite the fact that she did well in his classes - she would never have expected him to approach her with the offer.

"Hmm. And here I was under the impression you didn't think much of me," she says, and she's successful at keeping the smirk off her face, but between her tone and the look in her eyes she needn't have bothered.

Honestly, she expects him to ignore the remark; he's not the type to deny it because it's the "polite" thing to do, and he's too stoic to rise to her bait. So, the deceitfully warm smile that graces his features in response unnerves her immediately.

"On the contrary; in fact, I don't think anything of you."

It's a sharp bite that leaves its fangs behind as it retreats, pumping venom even after the sting subsides. She fights the urge to wince.

Ooh, he's extra grumpy today, she thinks, and she wants to scowl but she makes herself mirror his smile instead.

"Ouch," she says, chuckling, shrugging off the puncture wounds, "so why ask me, then, is my question? And don't repeat the same BS about me being the top student - I'm sure there's someone almost as smart as me who would -" get along with you better, be easier to manage - "be a better fit for the position."

"Oh, undoubtedly," he answers quickly - she bristles again - "but I'm looking for competence, not... compatibility. The workload is quite intense, due to some upcoming changes in the university's structure. I don't believe any of my other students would be able to handle it while keeping up the rest of their grades. So, unfortunately, we're back to you."

"Well, that is a shame," Rhiannon clicks her tongue, feigning sympathy, "but what makes you think I'd want anything to do with this... opportunity?"

She revels; time to make him sweat. He needs her, he practically said as much - the power balance slides back in her direction and she starts to smirk - but then he shifts his eyes away from her, as if in consideration. For some reason, it sets an ominous feeling in her stomach; something significantly uglier and more dangerous than butterflies beating their wings against the lining of her gut.

"I'm surprised you have to ask. As a graduate student, certain things are expected of you, which include responsibilities such as this, and, more importantly, your thesis... of which I happen to know the subject."

At this, his gaze flickers back to hers, scorching in its intensity, and there it is - the jaws clamp shut around her throat, leaving an echo of the snap of teeth ringing in her ears.

The illusion of control is ripped away, leaving her stumbling to keep her feet under her, as she's brutally reminded of all the reasons she hates the man in front of her.

In truth, she'd had him pegged almost the second she walked into her first class. His stoic, businesslike manner might fool most people he encounters, but she saw straight through him. Controlling, uncompromising, egoistic - she'd seen his kind enough to recognize it. Her dislike of him had only grown since then, and he'd seemed to return the sentiment; by this point, they were arch-nemeses masquerading as casual academic acquaintances. She'd considered changing her major more than once, just so she wouldn't have to see him anymore.

And now, it seems - she swallows hard, nearly shaking with fury, gripping the arms of her chair hard enough to make the wood creak - she'd be seeing enough of him to wonder if they'd both make it out alive.

-----

He hadn't noticed her at first - why would he? She was another student in an exhausting sea of them - but then she excelled, and continued to do so, and all without needing him to manage her or hold her hand. Her work was some of the best he'd seen at her level. He hadn't been shocked when she'd changed her major from whatever it had been previously - she'd shown affinity, talent... potential. Then she'd graduated, returned, and continued to excel.

He might have liked her, if only he hadn't despised her almost immediately.

It wasn't that she caused him any trouble; her attitude just grated on his nerves in the worst possible way. She was arrogant, self-centered, and belligerently apathetic - and it didn't help any that she seemed immune to manipulation. He knew she didn't feel any fondness for him, either, and they just seemed to be losing more and more patience with each other over time.

He'd thought about collecting her. He already knew exactly what he'd do with her; the image burned brilliantly in the back of his mind. Every time he started to seriously consider it, though, he decided he'd rather just kill her and dispose of the body - that seeing her in a glass case every day, in his sanctuary, would only get under his skin. Then, after a while, he'd grow tired of the idea altogether and just settle on giving her a wide berth.

Right at this moment, he was glad she was still alive - if only so he could watch her smug expression cave in, giving way to shock, alarm, distaste, fury. She was flushed and snarling, her eyes burning with naked animosity. This is easily the most unsettled he'd ever seen her, and it granted him a level of satisfaction he rarely got to experience.

He feels a smile - was it a smile? - stretch its way across his face. Would she scream at him? Lunge at him? She might even try to hit him, and he'd have to subdue her -

She jumps suddenly to her feet, and for a wild, exhilarating moment he thinks he will get to use force against her - but she turns around, shoves the chair out of the way - it goes screeching across the room, slams into a bookshelf - and stalks toward the door.

He stands, though he's not sure why - it's not as if he'd go after her if she stormed out, but she stops with her hand on the doorknob. She whirls back to face him (he hopes, fleetingly, to see tears, but he knows this isn't enough to make her cry - that's a goal for another day) and crosses her arms petulantly.

"My thesis subject doesn't matter, you're not involved with - "

He cuts her off as she spits the words at him, his voice growing colder and colder in opposition to her rising heat -

"But I should be. Who else are you supposed to work with? It's my field - "

"It doesn't have to be you, I checked," she bites out, nearly shouting now, "Professor Granville can oversee - "

He actually laughs at that, abrupt and mean-spirited. Rhiannon unfolds her arms, letting them dangle at her sides as she clenches her fists.

"Granville is a moron and you know it," he says caustically, "but, by all means - try to get some intelligent input from him while he's busy putting his hands up your skirt - "

"That's still preferable to you!" She barks, eyes wild, quickly advancing on him until her face is about a foot from his. "Anything is preferable to you."

They stand, still and silent except for the heavy breathing that often punctuates heated arguments. He notices that a lock of hair has come loose from the twist at her crown; it falls over her face, adding to her manic look. Her eyes were locked, unwavering, on his; it's another thing that gets under his skin - people usually could not hold his gaze, and watching their eyes slide away from his was empowering, gratifying. Whenever their vision collided, they got stuck - almost like she expected him to crumble under her stare.

He was beginning to acquire an aversion to green - one shade, in particular.

He suddenly wants her out of his office.

"I have the resources, knowledge, and experience necessary for the kind of research you need to do. My clout is significantly higher than Granville's. You know your chances of success are greater with me, and I'm extending an offer that I will not make again. Take it or leave it."

"I can succeed perfectly well without you, thanks," she snarls, "I only need a supervisor as a formality, I can handle the work myself."

"Yes," he breathes, searching deep inside himself for patience, "you likely can, but are you prepared to spend that much extra time? Exponentially more time?" She starts to answer but he presses on. "You've just taken on more responsibilities in the school's ballet program, if I'm not mistaken? Surely you don't want to step down already? Or quit entirely, as the case may be."

Her mouth, which had been opening and closing in attempts to retort while he spoke, snaps shut. She clenches her jaw, glowers at him, bares her teeth - but apparently finds nothing to say.

He remains silent as he watches the mental struggle play out across her face; finally resignation settles in her eyes, and she pales visibly. His satisfaction at the sight is dulled by his desire to wrap his hands around her throat.

"Fine," she says quietly, voice hollow, "I accept."

"Good. Now get out."

She takes her leave like it's all she's ever wanted, pausing only to flip him off at the door.

As it slams shut, he stares at it, fingers flexing in agitation.

If she was still alive at the end of the semester, he'd be shocked.

#Rune writes slashers #Diabolica series #oc rhiannon #asa emory #the collector #slashers #slasher fandom #the collector 2009

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thicctails · 3 years

Text

Summer of Whump Day 10 [Camping/Trapped]

Hhhhh I am so behIND SCHEDULE

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Omega shifted on her pile of blankets, trying to get comfortable. Pillow’s quiet snores were all she heard as she stared tiredly into the darkness. Her salamander friend hadn’t stopped growing, and he was beginning to take up quite a bit of space. He was more of a “Bed” than a Pillow at this point. His large tail swung around as he dreamed, the appendage catching her in the side. She let out a quiet cough, pushing the heavy tail off of herself. Enough was enough. She obviously wasn’t going to be getting any sleep like this.

Grabbing her favourite datapad, she jumped down onto the floor, not worrying about the slight noise that came as a result. Almost everyone was out gathering needed supplies, leaving Wrecker as her sole guardian for the night. Wrecker was, as usual, trying to sleep off his headache. Omega wandered throughout the ship, eventually deciding to curl up in the pilot’s seat to read. The seat dwarfed her, and it still amazed her that, someday, it wouldn’t seem so big.

The datapad’s gentle glow was soothing, but the story it held wasn’t all that long. It was a children’s story about a little Porg that was different from his other siblings. She loved this story, because at the end the little Porg found a family that loved him, even if he looked different. After she’d reread it a few times, Omega set the datapad down and stared out of the windshield. The night brought a sense of calm to the planet they had been staying on for the past week, and as much as she loved the energetic hustle and bustle of the marketplace during the day, a break was always nice.

Her eyes widened as she spotted something that she’d never seen before. A blink of light appeared before her, just outside the protection of the windshield. They glowed for a moment, then faded, then appeared again. Omega sits there, watching the lights in wonderment. Then, one lands on the glass, and she sees that it’s a bug that’s glowing.

“Whoa.” Omega breathes.

She wants to see the fascinating bugs up close, so she opened the Havoc Marauder’s door and steps out into the warm night air. She walked around to the front of the ship, staring in delight as the blinking insects flit around her. One lands on Omega’s nose, blinking every few seconds.

The young girl giggled, the light shining in her large brown eyes. The insect slowly lifted off, its tiny wings buzzing slightly. Omega followed after it, wanting to see where the little bug was going.

The glowing animal led her beyond the ship, and more and more bugs joined them as they neared an open field. Nocturnal flowers bloomed under the combined glow of three moons, and unseen animals chirped in the trees. Omega ran her hand along the tall, soft grass, feeling the dew that had formed. A frog jumped out of the grass, its bulbous throat expanding as it croaked. Omega, who had only ever seen the animal in datapads, crouched down and stared in awe at the smooth amphibian. The frog croaked again, hopping into the grass again. She followed it, hopping as it had. She giggled as she jumped up and down, her head popping up above the grass every few seconds.

Suddenly, her foot slipped, and Omega yelped as she began to tumble downwards. Rocks and roots scratched up her skin, and to top it all off, she hit something hard once she reached the bottom of whatever ditch she’d fallen into. Coughing, she rolled onto her side, wincing when she felt her shoulder scream in protest. Biting her lip, she used her legs to maneuver herself into a sitting position. Now that she was no longer face down in the dirt, she blinked, taking in her surroundings. Within seconds, she spotted something white laying in the dirt. Confused, she peered at it, leaning forward. It looked like…

She gasped, scrambling back.

That was clone trooper armor.

Panicked, she pressed herself against the side of the ditch. She tried to get to her feet, but a sharp pain in her lower back had her sliding back down. Her breaths came in shallow pants as she curled up into a ball, hoping beyond hope that her lack of movement might save her life.

A long, tense moment passed, but the clone trooper showed no sign of movement. Afraid, but curious now, Omega crept forward, her body shivering in pain as she moved. Now that she was closer, she could see that, like the armor of the Bad Batch, there were stripes of colour on this clone’s armor. Lines of blue decorated the scuffed white suit, and she found herself reaching out to touch them. The paint was chipped in some areas, and she could feel scratches in the armor. Whoever this was, they’d been around for a while.

She paused for a moment, trying to sense with the Force what exactly she was dealing with here. No buzz of danger had appeared, and she actually felt a pleasant, warm feeling in her chest. This person, it seemed, was not unknown to the Force, and it seemed to like him. Deciding to take the risk, she used her good arm to remove the clone’s helmet. She needed to find out why he had collapsed here, and to check if he was even alive. Breathing could be hard to see under plastoid.

She was surprised to see that the man’s hair was blonde like hers, and she wondered what gene had been modified in the two of them to give them both the unique hair colour. Placing the helmet aside with care, she saw a small prick of dried blood on the clone’s neck. Had he been shot with something?

Omega pressed two fingers to the man’s throat, holding her breath as she waited. There was a good chance that she was touching a corpse right now, and that idea didn’t sit right with her.

Lub dub… lub dub…

Oh good. Not touching a corpse.

Exhaling in relief, Omega sat back down, hissing as the pain in her lower back started up again. As much as she liked the high level of movement her normal clothes gave her, perhaps she should start looking into ways of making herself a suit of armor. With all the trouble she got into, it might be worth the effort.

The nighttime animals sung all around her, and despite her less than awesome situation, she smiled. She wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t in total silence, two things she was very grateful for, even if her company was a stranger who could, at any given time, wake up and decide to kill her.

Actually, maybe she should take his blaster.

Just as she started to reach over, a sound made her freeze. Something had just stepped on a stick.

Moving into a crouch, Omega peered upwards towards the ditch’s ridge. The tall grass swayed, obscuring her sight. She kept staring, sure that she had heard something. However, when nothing appeared, she looked away, easing herself back down into a sitting position, rubbing at her sore shoulder. Distracted by her pain, she failed to notice the growing buzz at the back of her mind. Until, of course, it became a screaming alarm bell that was yelling “LOOK OUT, MORON!”

Omega’s head snapped up as a snarl shattered the night’s calm existence. She flinched back as a lithe figure leapt down into the ditch. It looked like a long Loth Cat, bigger in size and sporting a thin, spine-covered tail. The animal stared at Omega, it’s large, silver eyes making her tense up in fear. It considered her for a moment, then turned towards the downed clone. It opened its mouth, saliva dripping down its fangs.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not eating him!” Omega yelled, grabbing a nearby rock and throwing it at the cat. The feline hissed, jumping back. It growled at Omega, its tail flicking back and forth.

The command to get back passed through her head, and she listened to the instinct. Her body made its displeasure known as she threw herself away from the animal, landing on her back as a spray of quills embedded themselves into the dirt. The pain stunned her for only a moment, but it was for longer than she could afford. A weight appeared on her chest, pressing down on her collarbone. Curved claws pricked her skin, causing beads of blood to seep into her shirt.

Omega yelped, trying to kick the cat off with her good leg, but the animal simply scratched the limb with a hind paw, slicing the skin of her knee open. Tears pricked at her eyes as adrenaline kicked in, her body going into panic mode. Her brain shoved the memory of one of Hunter’s lessons into her immediate thoughts, and she swung her fist up towards the cat’s face, trying to catch it in the eye. She managed to land a hit, and the animal screeched in pain. Its head jerked back, and she punched it again, this time in the throat.

The large feline fell back, allowing a bleeding Omega to put some distance in between them. Her body shook as she tried to figure out what to do. She didn’t have much time; the animal was already rolling back onto its paws. She reached out, trying to connect with the Force. If she really did have a connection with it, than she should be able to do something!

A feeling of strength and power rippled through Omega suddenly, settling in the palms of her hands. It felt as though she could grab anything within a few feet of her, although she wasn’t quite sure how. However, she didn’t have a chance to try, as the cat was now coming at her again, claws unsheathed and fangs bared. Terrified and out of options, she focused on the cat, closed her eyes, and swung her hand to the side as hard as she could.

The animal yowled in shock, flying into the wall of the ditch. Stunned, and now feeling tired, Omega stared at the animal, her eyes wide. She… she had done it! She’d used the Force!

The cat shook its head, whipping around to snarl at Omega. The girl’s excitement disappeared. Apparently, she hadn’t used it well enough to dissuade the predator. Omega shrunk back, too hurt and tired and scared to think of another plan. The feline dropped down, its eyes locking onto her as it pounced forward, jaws open wide. Omega shut her eyes and covered her face with the arm she could still use, awaiting the attack.

…

But it never came.

Instead, the sound of a blaster being fired made her open her eyes and lower her arm. The cat was on its side, unmoving but still breathing. She looked to her left, and there was the clone, holstering his blaster. She felt relief wash over her when, upon noticing her, the man didn’t move to shoot her too.

“Are you alright, little ‘un?” His voice sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up from a nap.

Omega nodded, not sure she could do much else.

The clone stared at her, his head tilting slightly. He blinked, like he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right.

“I’ve seen a lot of clones in my lifetime, but never one that looked like you.” He smiled at her, before looking around cautiously. “Where did you come from? Are you runnin’ from the Empire too?”

“I-I am, but we’re not in any danger right now!” She said, stuttering a bit. Her pounding heart was making speech difficult. “I’m here with my family.”

“Family?” The man asked.

Omega’s cheeks turned a bit pink in embarrassment. “S-sorry! I meant my squad, not family...” She trailed off a bit at the end. Were they a family? Echo, Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech were all brothers, but she was something different, a clone that was even more different than they were. What was she to them?

“Your squad? What’s your squad number?” The other clone, who was getting to his feet, offered her a hand as he stood. She took it, not minding when he supported her with a second hand when her legs wobbled. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and she was starting to feel exhaustion seep into her muscles.

“Omega! Omega, where are you?!”

Omega looked up, a smile coming onto her face.

“Wrecker!” She yelled back.

“Wrecker? Wait…” The other clone seemed to come to a realization just as Wrecker appeared at the edge of the ditch. The enhanced clone tensed at the sight of someone holding Omega, before he realized who exactly he was looking at.

“Rex!” He cried, his face lighting up.

Omega felt Rex laugh, and she turned to look at him. The blonde was smiling and shaking his head.

“Of course.” He said, looking at Wrecker with a grin. “Of course it’s you crazy bastards.”

“You know him?” Omega asked, not really sure who she was directing the question to.

“Oh, for sure! Rex is an old friend of ours!” Wrecker said. “Now get up here so I can hug ‘ya!”

“I would, but this little one is hurt. I doubt she can climb out on her own.” Rex said, letting Omega lean on him. Side by side, they almost looked like they were a father and daughter.

“Oh kriff!” Wrecker cursed, just now noticing the bruises and cuts. “Hunter’s gonna kill me- what happened?!”

“A cat tried to eat Rex, but I distracted it.” Omega said, finding it hard to stay upright. “Then it tried to eat me.”

“While I’m not glad you got hurt, I must thank you for keeping that thing off me. You’re a very brave and very strong girl, Omega. Those Quill Prowlers are quite scary. I’m surprised you didn’t get hi-!” Rex cut himself off, looking down at Omega’s boots. “Oh dear.”

“What?” Omega and Wrecker asked at the same time. Omega looked down.

There was a quill sticking out of her boot.

“Oh.” She said, before promptly passing out.

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars #omega whump #omega bad batch #wrecker bad batch #captain rex #rex clone wars #tw animal harm #summerofwhump #summerofwhump[10]

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janekfan · 4 years

Text

Heart(ache)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199034

“You, you, you want to say something, Martin, so just say it!”

“I won’t, not while we’re both upset.” Martin gestured tiredly, somehow keeping his temper even as Jon flickered lightning quick between all of his emotions seemingly at once. “Not when you’re like this.” Like this, was pacing the length of the sitting room, shaking top to toe, each and every muscle stretched taut as a bow string. He felt out of control, like a war was waging inside his chest and there was no space, no way out.

“I didn’t.”

He hadn’t.

Because Martin had to bodily intercept him and drag him away from the child harboring the fear he practically tasted on the recycled air in the market. But he hadn’t. He, he wouldn’t.

But he would, wouldn’t he. When his tentative control over the horror roiling just under his skin snapped. When he ate, and ate, and ate up their fears and haunted their dreams until the empty, desolate abyss inside him stopped hurting.

“I know. But it was a close thing and I’m. I’m tired, Jon.” He pinched his nose, glasses riding up on his forehead. “A child, Jon. A child.”

Logically. The part of Jon that still existed logically knew this wasn’t easy on Martin. Knew it was impossible. Knew that this hunger was taking advantage of the man he’d been before this and exacerbating all the worst parts of himself.

And he let it. Some days.

Because it was easier.

It had always been easier to be alone.

Trust Martin to keep coming back and Jon to keep letting him; craving him like a drug, the only one that could quell the ravenous voice whispering in his ear all those seductive, cloying promises of freedom and power and Knowledge of all things.

But Martin would never be able to understand how deep the dark went and how much of it was Jon himself and it was shameful that he couldn’t tell where he ended and the Eye began and Martin could never understand. Wonderful, beautiful Martin asked how he could help and Jon didn’t know because nothing helped except that which he tried so hard not to take.

God. He was tired of being a burden.

Tired of being helpless.

Tired of losing bits and pieces to that covetous pit.

And he was just so angry.

Static filled his head and he realized he was holding it in both hands, tugging at his greying hair and Martin was still talking but he didn’t understand what he was saying. Could only pick up on the displeased nature of his tone.

Martin was upset. Jon made him upset.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Jon.” And he didn’t deserve the concern in his voice.

“You were going to say something. Before. Please.” Jon couldn’t feel his hands. His arms were numb.

“Not now.” But he needed it now. He needed to know so he could fix this.

“Martin--” He was turning away. Leaving. He was leaving.

“No, Jon.” He could. Fix. He could fix this. He just needed to Know. If he Knew he could fix this. Then Martin wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave if he could just fix what he broke. He just needed to Know.

“Tell me!” Despite the desperate fracture in his voice, the compulsion was like a physical blow and Jon grieved it the instant he spoke but the damage was already done. Dangerous satisfaction that didn’t belong to him flooded his mouth with salt.

Time slowed.

Jon watched (because that was all he ever did) in horror as Martin struggled against the Eye’s power, his power, before his answer erupted from his throat like a gout of acid.

“I hate that you’re like this!” Martin clapped both hands over his mouth, hurt, and confusion, and disappointment welling up in his eyes as Jon turned tail and ran into the night.

There were no shortage of places to hide in the highlands and quick as he could, Jon wedged himself, trembling fit to shake apart, under the shadows of a fallen stone wall before the hysterical sob fighting to break free wrenched itself painfully from the dead center of his chest.

And once it was set free there was no way to stop, not even when he became light headed from the lack of air, not when he knocked his head against the stones with his frantic rocking back and forth, curled up as small as he could get. He couldn’t stop crying, hyperventilating between his knees, the mocking laughter of his god echoing in the hollows of his mind.

It’s over.

Over.

I’m alone.

I can’t do this alone.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Hard, Job bit into the skin between his thumb and index finger, muffing himself with the bite and begging the pain, this new pain, this different pain, to cut through the noise taking up all his spaces, stealing away his control and he’s had so little of it lately. This time he slotted a knuckle between his teeth until he tasted blood.

Again.

Until his paralyzed lungs heaved in a great breath and dizzied him with it.

Until the panting slowed.

Again.

Until each hand was covered in healing, bruising, bleeding marks of his own making.

Until he could think again.

Until the shame blossomed in him and he cried anew, cutting the edge of his pinky on an incisor. Anything to stop feeling for just one moment. He sank in on himself, making himself somehow smaller amongst the rubble boxing him in, resting his hot, hot forehead against the chilly stone. He could feel the cold seeping in, could see his breath on each exhale and took to counting each plume until the only thing he was left with was an aching exhaustion down deep in his string-and-stick bones.

Sodding blighter.

You never stop when you should. Always pushing.

Always needing more than someone gave. Never grateful for what he was given. Selfish. Martin would realize sooner or later, that Jon needed more than he had any right.

And now.

Martin, sweet, kind, beautiful Martin, would let him down gently. Explain that he hadn’t known how much of himself Jon would try and take. That he hadn’t known the depths of his greed and couldn’t allow Jon to use him up. He would be sorry.

And then he would leave.

And the idea that Jon found a certain comfort in the familiar order of these things, knew what to expect, was sickest of all.

Tears slipped down his cheeks, dripped off his chin, and Jon didn’t know whether the furious shuddering was from the temperature or the residual shock of his panic attack. As he continued to calm, the Eye flickered and danced along to the thrum of the insect song all around him, identifying each species, genus, family, order, latin name, who discovered each one and when; the list was infinite. Jon let it have its fun, blinking slowly, wondering absently who’s dreams he’d lurk through if he just fell asleep right here.

He was contemplating that very thing when he heard Martin’s voice calling out and Jon knew if he stayed still he wouldn’t be found and considered doing just that, not knowing how he could ever face him again after what he’d done. The beam of a torch swept over the wall and Jon heard quiet cursing as Martin tripped and almost lost his footing.

He would hurt himself stumbling around out here in the dark looking for Jon so scrubbing his face free of any tears, he stood on unsteady legs, limping forward filled to bursting with regret and shame.

“Martin.”

“Oh, Christ, Jon.” He whirled, hand clutched over a pounding heart no doubt and watched him scan him up and down, expression forcibly neutral and more tears rolled down his cheeks. Wordlessly, Martin bundled him up in his coat and warmth engulfed him as he was led back to the cabin by the hand settled against the small of his back.

He was sat in a chair in the tiny kitchen and Martin made no motion to take his coat so he hunched himself up inside it to watch him putter around preparing tea. Jon knew better than to interrupt. Could tell he was angry by the clipped movements, his stiff shoulders. He swallowed, pushing down the panic. Martin had every right to be mad. To yell at him. To hurt him if he needed to. It wasn’t fair to manipulate him with more tears.

He would be patient. He would wait. Because Martin needed him to wait and he didn’t wait last time.

Jumping when the mug was set in front of him, Jon waited until Martin settled across from him, watching his body language, noticing how he wouldn’t meet his eyes. Noticed how he relaxed after the first sip.

“I’m--”

“Drink your tea, please, Jon.” Terse, but not unkind. Until now, Jon had kept his hands hidden in the long sleeves. The bites were healing. Quickly. They weren’t gone. And Martin would see if he reached for the porcelain in front of him.

Would he be mad?

“Breathe, Jon.” How? When he’d ruined the only thing good he had and that knowing was crushing him like he’d been crushed in the Buried. “You’re freezing, love.” Jon’s eyes went wide in surprise, welled up. Spilled over. “Drink your tea.” Softly, like he was coaxing a cornered animal. Ashamed, he looked down at the surface of the worn table speckled with his tears, and reached out his hands, closing his eyes at the sharp intake of breath. He couldn’t look. Too afraid of what he’d see and I don’t need to Know, thank you very much, please, stop.

The first swallow began to thaw him from the inside, out, and it was made just how he liked it and suddenly he was crying so hard he could barely finish, gasping like a fish out of water for just a whisper of air, sore from the effort. He was strung out, a wreck, scarcely keeping it together, not keeping it together. And suddenly he was being pressed against Martin’s chest, one hand gently holding his head in place, the other running up and down his back as he fought himself for permission to breathe.

This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He hurt Martin.

And again, he made it all about him.

It was always about him.

“Let’s get these washed up, okay?”

Savlon and plasters applied, Martin settled them both on the couch, tugging Jon against him and pulling a blanket over the both of them.

“I’m so, so, s’s’sorry.” Martin sighed heavily, carding fingers through Jon’s hair when he tensed up at the sound.

“I know.”

“H’how can I--?”

“I’m sorry, too. I was so scared for that child.”

“I kn’know.” Jon pushed away so he could look at Martin. “I’ll do better. I won’t. I won’t go into the village.” Just please, please don't leave me here alone. Martin pressed a kiss against his forehead.

“You’re doing your best.” While falling so, so short.

“Do you.” Jon licked dry lips. “You hate--”

“I don’t hate you, darling.” Jon buried his face in Martin’s jumper. “I hate seeing you struggling because I can’t help you.”

“You do help.” Muffled by the soft yarn. “You’re the only thing that does help and I. I.”

“Made a mistake. And you hurt me. But, Jon? It doesn’t mean I’m leaving.” The relief was heady, overwhelming. “Next time, because there will be one, that’s just how this all works. Next time you need to listen when I tell you I need some time.” Jon nodded. “Good. Well, that’s a start then.”

“That’s it?”

“For now.” Martin hugged him tightly. Jon tentatively returned it. “We’re tired--don’t argue with me. And we have time to figure this out together, love.”

And Jon breathed.

#TMAHC #TMAHCweek #jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #Hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #fear #panic #panic attack #anxiety #conflict resolution #self harm #biting

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mavericksy · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red

TW: Detailed descriptions of menstruation, gender dysphoria

Summary: Tsuburaba gets his period, and Class 1B try to make him feel better, with varying degrees of success.

AO3 link (text is also below): https://archiveofourown.org/works/28285605

A/N: Sweet comfort fic- I got my period a a few days ago and it was really bothering me this morning. also, there is a major lack of trans tsuburaba content. how could you do this to dysphoria hoodie boy.

SEEING RED

Vlad King shouldered into the locker room and clapped his hands.

“Alright, boys, time to get to the gym!”

At once, the gathered male students looked up and nodded, their conversations dropping to a hush as they hurried to fix their costumes.

He held the door open for them, counting each student as they went into the corridor. As Honenuki left the room, Vlad spotted Monoma loitering at the back, wearing a concerned expression.

“Is everything alright, son?” he asked. Monoma looked behind himself.

“It’s Tsuburaba, sir.”

“Oh?” Thinking on it, Vlad hadn’t spotted the short boy among the rest of the group. “Did he come in today?”

Monoma nodded. “Yes, sir. He’s in the bathroom. He’s having a few…issues.”

“Oh. Should I get the Imodium?”

“It’s not that! Sir, it’s that time of the month.” Vlad continued to frown at him. Monoma sighed. “He’s on his period.”

“He is?”

“I think he got it while he was getting changed in the back- it caught him by surprise. He’s upset.”

“I can imagine. Poor kid. Sometimes I forget he’s…you know.”

“Sir, permission to go to the girl’s locker room. He says he needs a sanitary towel.”

“Permission granted, son.” Monoma nodded and prepared to leave the room. “No funny business when you get there, mind!”

The boy rolled as his eyes as he left. Steeling himself for an awkward discussion, Vlad tip-toed towards the bathroom at the back of the changing room. It was a small, tiled annex, with two closed stalls, two urinals, and a pair of porcelain sinks. A passage to the right led towards the showers. Underneath the gap of one of the toilet cubicles, he spotted shadows moving on the floor. Muffled noises were coming from inside.

He coughed and knocked on the wall next to him. “Tsuburaba? You in here, son?”

The muffled noise suddenly stopped. A moment later, a croaky voice replied, “Yeah.”

“Monoma tells me you’re in a bit of an awkward situation.”

Tsuburaba laughed ruefully, a single sardonic bark that rattled around the walls.

“Do you want to come out and talk about it?”

“I can’t really move right now, sir.”

Drat. There went Vlad King’s patented ‘give them a comforting yet manly hug’ maneuver. Now he’d actually have to make conversation.

“Is everything OK?”

From inside the dim stall, Tsuburaba looked in the direction of Vlad King’s deep voice. His hands were full of wadded-up toilet paper, which he had been using to try and pat his crotch and briefs dry.

“Could be better, sir,” he admitted, squinting at the rust-colored marks across the tissue after he had scuffed it across his bloody underwear. He sighed and threw it between his legs, into the toilet.

“Are you having...cramps or anything?”

“Not right now, no. I’ll probably end up getting them later tonight, though.” He unrolled another strip of tissue. “Sometimes they make it hard to sleep.”

“You got enough painkillers back in the dorms?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. Midnight’s on call tonight, if you need her. Do you want me to tell her what’s going on?”

“No, I…” Tsuburaba squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his forehead with his free hand, trying to control his voice as a lump began to rise in his throat. Vlad King’s voice kept coming, over and over, giving him no time to settle. “I’d rather keep this private, sir. If you don’t mind.”

“I get you. Are you going to be OK in class today?”

“I’ll be fine, sir, just so long as I’m not bleeding into my pants all morning!” Tsuburaba snapped. There was silence from outside. He exhaled shakily and placed his head in his hands, feeling another string of blood ooze out of him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, son. You’re going through a lot right now.”

“It’s such a weird feeling,” Tsuburaba said quietly, shivering as he crossed his arms. “I can feel the blood on my skin as it’s coming out, but…it’s like there’s not enough skin, you know? I can feel that something else is supposed to be there, but…it’s not. It’s just flat.” He swallowed. “Sorry, again. That’s TMI.”

“It…” Vlad King didn’t disagree, but Tsuburaba could tell from his careful, measured tone of voice that he was sympathetic. “It’s good to talk about this kind of thing, sometimes- to have a level of awareness about your body. Did I ever tell you about the time I got infected by a parasite?”

Tsuburaba’s eyes widened. He shook his head, then remembered that Vlad couldn’t see him.

“No, sir.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell,” Vlad King laughed. “I was out in the field, fighting off a group of your standard hoodlums. One of them went in for a close-combat attack from behind, and managed to hit my back. I swung him away from me and finished the fight without making too much of it. Then, over the next few days, I had this awful aching sensation in my right shoulder, like I’d thrown it while training.”

“I’ve had that kind of thing all week,” said Tsuburaba, feeling an ache prickle down his own back. “Should have known it was coming from that. Anyway, you were saying?”

“The pain lasted for weeks. I thought I was going nuts- I was tired, I was cranky, but I couldn’t work out what was wrong for the life of me. It wasn’t until I rolled over in bed one night and my wife noticed this golf ball sized protrusion sticking out of my back. We got to an emergency doctor, and she put me under for surgery that same evening- a few hours later, I wake up in her office, and there’s this giant insect squirming around a glass jar next to her computer.”

Tsuburaba choked back a gasp. Always prone to feeling pain as other people described it, he clutched his shoulder, wincing in sympathy.

“That’s crazy, sir!”

“Uh-huh. Turns out it had been part of a plan to put me out of commission- to change up the patrol routes so the gang could launch an attack without me being there. Oh- here’s Monoma.”

“I got a sanitary towel from Kendou,” Monoma’s voice said. Plastic packaging crinkled.

“You’re a lifesaver, bro,” said Tsuburaba, inching towards the door. He looked down at himself and sighed. “Can you push it under the door?”

He saw Monoma’s feet approaching.

“Is everything OK, now, Tsuburaba?” Vlad King asked.

“Yeah, everything should be fine now, thanks,” said Tsuburaba, grabbing the square piece of packaging from Monoma’s hand. “I’ll join everyone in a minute.”

“I’ll see you in the gym, then.”

“Cool. Oh, and sorry for snapping.”

There was a pause. Tsuburaba assumed that Vlad King and Monoma were eyeing each other.

“Don’t worry about it, son,” Vlad said reassuringly. His footsteps began retreating. “I’ll see you boys soon.”

“Do you want me to leave, Tsuba?” asked Monoma. He mulled it over.

“That’s OK,” he said. “Just give me a minute.”

With an apology to his friend, Monoma occupied himself at the urinals while he waited. From inside the stall, there was a tearing noise, followed by a high-pitched rustle. As Monoma went to wash his hands, the stall door clanked open, and Tsuburaba joined him at the sinks. He noticed how he stood with his legs a little apart, trying to rock his hips into a more comfortable position.

“Better?”

“Much better.”

They dried their hands and returned to the changing room. Tsuburaba stopped him before he left.

“Thank you so much for everything you’ve done today,” he said.

“It’s not a problem- it’s basic decency, really. Besides, Kendou’s the one you should be thanking.”

“I know, but…you didn’t have to do all this for me, you know?” He looked down at his feet. “I’ve got one more favour to ask, by the way. If you don’t mind.”

“Name it.”

“Could you tell me if I get a stain on my pants? Please? They’re pretty thick material, but the colour is light, so…”

“Are you asking if I’ll look at your butt for the rest of the lesson? That’s more than fine by me.” Monoma laughed as Tsuburaba scowled, though he could tell he was biting back a smile. The shorter guy swiped at him.

“Shuddup, will you?”

“I’m sorry!” They both laughed as they emerged into the hallway.

“But seriously, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Class went normally, for the most part. There was definitely a vague knowledge among the group that something was wrong with Tsuburaba, but he couldn’t complain too much about the various sympathetic glances that were being sent in his direction.

Tetsutetsu leaned forward and shook his shoulder.

“You’re the man, bro,” he whispered.

“Heh, thanks,” Tsuburaba said awkwardly, trying to disappear into the back corner of the benches. Tetsutetsu flinched as Kendou shoved him roughly.

“Would you leave him alone?” she hissed.

“I was only trying to-”

“It’s OK!” he said quickly. “Thanks, both of you. I appreciate it.”

Kendou turned to him and nodded, retreating from Tetsutetsu, who gave him a grateful thumbs-up.

The number of students on the benches dwindled as Vlad King organised them into groups, with only ten students on the court at any one time. Finding that he and Kendou were alone together- save for a few other students scattered a little further away- he slid next to her.

“Monoma says you helped me out today,” he said.

“Did he? Oh, with the…”

“Yeah. I just wanted to say thanks.”

“It’s no big deal, really! I’m just glad that we could get everything in order.”

“You and me both.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Swampy.”

With a glance in the other students’ direction, Kendou leaned in. Tsuburaba blushed as she came close, her ponytail brushing his shoulder.

“I got mine too, yesterday evening. I’ve stocked up on chocolate and sad movies if you wanted to hang out later.”

Tsuburaba shook his head. “I can’t do sad things when I’m like this. I’d be a mess. But thanks for the offer.”

“Any time.”

There was a chorus of groans as Kaibara hit the floor, a dodgeball bouncing away from him. On the opposite side of the court, Yanagi stood proudly to one side with her arms half-raised, her teammates screaming praise at her.

As Kaibara had been the last man standing on his team, Vlad King blew his whistle to signal the end of the match.

“Next team, Team B vs Team D!”

Tsuburaba took a moment to check his trousers before standing. He turned to Kendou.

“You’re clean,” she said, before he had even fully opened his mouth. “Good luck!”

He smiled and gave her a thumbs up, heading towards the court. Also up from the benches, Kuroiro joined him as they strode to their side of the court.

“I am so glad we have you,” he said to Tsuburaba. “You’re one of the best players.”

“Tsuburaba vs Yanagi and Monoma,” added Awase, who was making his way to the back of the room, ready to use his quirk to fuse as many accumulated dodgeballs as he could. “It’s a clash of the titans.

The shorter boy offered a quick smile to them both, before focussing his gaze on the opposing team. He began to breathe in deeply, preparing to unleash a slew of defensive walls.

Monoma caught his eye and grinned. He was stood in between Yanagi and Honenuki, which probably meant that Tsuburaba could expect strikes that came from nowhere, and for the ground to suddenly disappear beneath him- if Honenuki went out.

“Are you OK?” Monoma mouthed at him.

“I’m fine,” he mouthed back, watching Monoma’s concern fade and be replaced with a self-assured expression.

Tsuburaba grinned wickedly and fixed his eyes on the line of balls in front of him. He could use his quirk to shunt the balls at Team B before they had time to react, or wait for one of them to lurch forwards, only to slam into an invisible wall of air.

Monoma didn’t know just how closely he was going to have to watch his ass.

Disclaimer (?):

while periods suck, please remember that they are natural and you shouldn't be made to feel ashamed of them!

taking male hormones is *not* a 'cure' for menstruation. i've been on t for two years and had my period come back after a year of not having it, hence why i'm sad and wanted to write a comfort fic.

please don't feel like you need to medically transition just because you don't like having a period- there's a risk of you developing real gender dysphoria due to other side effects, and needing to detransition later. i'm saying this because there's not a lot of menstruation-themed content out there, and i don't want people to equate 'periods are annoying' with 'i must be transgender'. please speak to your doctor if you're worried about your cycle or any unusual symptoms.

with that said, godspeed to anybody dealing with their time of the month right now! i hope you have all the chocolate you need!

#bnha #mha #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #class 1b #kosei tsuburaba #trans kosei tsuburaba #tw menstruation #tw menstrual cycle #tw gender dysphoria #tw periods

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thedreammweaver · 3 years

Text

A Virulent Arrangement (Burton-schumacherverse Riddlebird fantasy au, fairy!Oswald, wizard!Ed)

Warnings: blood, pus, infection, magic necrosis, ingenuine fatphobic comments, amputation mentions, emetophobia tw

Ed’s mind was wandering as he explored the woods around his small cottage. He couldn’t remember what he’d set out for but he supposed it wasn’t urgent if he’d forgotten so quickly. He was just about to switch to walking in a different direction when he spotted a fox trying to get something out of a split at the base of a hollow tree.

The fox’s face couldn’t fit between the split but it was desperately trying to get something that had scurried into it. When the fox noticed Ed it scampered off, leaving it’s prey behind. Feeling a bit curious Ed walking over to the tree and crouched. He couldn’t see into the tree but he could reach his left hand into it. As he felt around he was starting to think the fox had been chasing nothing, he was only feeling dried up leaves under his fingers. However soon he brushed something soft. As he investigated further he could tell it was heavy like a small lump of clay not yet hardened. He was guessing it was some kind of harmless small chubby animal like a chipmunk or a hedgehog when he felt a sharp pain in the side of his hand. As he dragged his hand out of the tree the thing he’d felt and apparently angered was still attached. He could see now that it was a fairy but not like one he’d ever seen before. It’s wings were more like a birds, feathery and black, which wasn’t the strange part, Ed had seen fae with wings like that before. The strange thing was mostly the creature’s appearance, he was somehow both large and small for a fairy. Only about three inches tall but quite big around. His attire was odd too. Fairies usually had clothes very obviously comprised of the natural resources around them, leaves, silk from insects, small twigs and vines, that sort of thing. However the one attached to the side of Ed’s hand was in a white ruffled shirt under a rich purple frock coat with embroidered trim that looked to be real gold thread, black high waisted fall front trousers that went down to the knee meeting with white socks in black buckled shoes and his grey curls were tied back with a tiny purple ribbon. Ed had certainly never seen a fairy that wore shoes made of anything but leaves. The small creature was covered in dirt, soot, and bleeding from his head but he still looked to be a lot better off than Edward was. Ed was so distracted by the clothes he nearly didn’t notice the fairy’s hands, some of his fingers were fused together. Though the creature fascinated him Ed wanted to get this thing off as soon as possible however he didn’t want to injure him further.

As Ed entered his small cottage the fairy’s mouth was still firmly clamped onto his left hand. During the walk back home a greenish black substance had begun seeping from the fairy’s mouth. “That cannot be hygienic..” Ed mumbled, studying his hand. He went into one of the two rooms that made up his dwelling which was his kitchen, he used it more for spells and potions than food. He was going to try something he’d done once when a snake bit him and wouldn’t release. Ed put his incapacitated hand on a table along with the fairy and with his other shot ice water from one of his finger tips into the fairy’s face. That only seem to encourage the creature as he bit down harder. The ice water had worked quickly with the snake but Ed was only stumped for a moment before thinking of something else to try, he produced a flame on his finger and held it close to the fairy’s face. There was a moment of stubbornness before the creature let go and staggered backwards, falling over on his rear before fainting. Ed felt bad and extinguished his hand though his guilt was fleeting as he saw the bite on his hand, it already looked inflamed, seeping blood and covered in that black-green guck. He quickly got to cleaning and dressing the wound before coming back over to the unconscious fairy. He carefully turned him over, looking for anymore surface injuries. There were a few abrasions besides the one on his head but that one seemed to be the most serious, Ed would’ve dressed it if he had tools small enough. He found himself curiously checking the creature’s wings for injuries, wanting an excuse to study them. The right one appeared to be injured but not on the surface, it wouldn’t open all the way as if it’d been broken in the past and didn’t heal right. Ed carefully picked the fairy up and took him to his desk where he filled a hollowed out book with soft scraps of fabric and set the fairy in it, the poor thing did look exhausted Ed figured he should let him sleep for a while.

A few hours had passed and the fairy was finally stirring. Ed patiently waited for the tiny creature to wake up and see him. The fairy rubbed his eyes and stretched one of his wings, moving over to lean on the side of the book he was in, curiously surveying what Ed had set out on the desk. There was a bowl with warm water in it and a small rag set on the side. “I figured you might want a bath, I could clean those...strangely opulent clothes for you too.” Ed offered. The fairy looked distrustful but he got out of the book and waddled to the bowl anyways, testing the water with one of his flippers. He seemed to like the idea of a bath but then he glared at Ed who was still watching him. It only took a few seconds for Ed to figure out why. “Ah! I bet you want some privacy,” he was blushing as he clumsily set up a nearby book to act as a screen “sorry about that.” It wasn’t long before the tiny clothes were being tossed over the book. Ed carefully picked them up in order to go and clean them. As he picked up the coat he noticed more golden embroidery inside, it looked like a word but he couldn’t tell what it was. He grabbed a magnifying glass and inspected further, the tiny embroidery spelled out ‘Oswald’. Ed didn’t envy whoever had gone through the effort to put in such tiny details.

When Ed came back from setting the fairy apparently named Oswald’s clothes out to dry the small creature was out of the bath and wrapped in the small rag which was big enough for him to use as a sort of cloak, having completely wrapped himself in it, part of it forming a hood on his head. Ed brought over half of a bread roll on a small plate with a thimble full of milk, setting it down on the desk by Oswald “I thought you might be hungry.” Ed was apparently right as Oswald waddled over and immediately tucked into the bread. Ed was about to try and find something to get himself ready for sleep when he felt his injured hand throbbing, he supposed he should probably change the bandages before going to bed.

When Ed undid the bandaging on his hand he nearly screamed at what he saw, the site of the bite was now black and green, pus oozing from it. There were signs of early necrosis around the area too. Ed spent the next hour trying every spell and treatment he knew of as he wasn’t keen on the alternatives. None of them worked however, and not for lack of skill or ability. Ed sighed, he figured he would have to make an anti-venom himself but to do that he would have to provoke Oswald again which he wasn’t looking forward too. Ed wrapped his hand back up and headed back into the room where his bed and desk were, wanting to get some sleep before dealing with the problem quite literally at hand. As he glanced over to the desk he saw that Oswald had fallen asleep still curled up in the rag, most of the bread gone and the thimble empty. Ed found himself thinking that asleep and cozy in the candlelight, Oswald looked strangely...cute.

Ed woke up in a cold sweat and feeling miserable, he was running a fever from the infection in his hand. As he looked down he could see the discolouration had spread, his whole hand now had a grey tint to it, it was numb as well. He wasn’t happy about provoking Oswald for more venom but he supposed it had to be done and he should get it over with. He grabbed an empty vial and hid it in his good hand as he went over to his desk to sit. Oswald managed to get to the windowsill where Ed put his clothes the night prior by using a book as a ramp and had just finished getting dressed, his flippers doing up tiny buttons on his coat that Ed could never hope to manage. “So why don’t you fly?” Ed started. Oswald opened his right wing as far as it would go which wasn’t very far at all to show that he couldn’t. Ed pushed down the guilty feelings already rising up in him “Oh, come on. I know the real reason.” Oswald furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “You’re obviously too fat to fly.” Ed said, poking Oswald hard in the stomach. Oswald was now staring daggers into Ed. “And what’s with the clothes, are you someone’s little doll? No..you’re too ugly to be a doll, huh?” Oswald didn’t understand why Ed would be winding him up on purpose but it was working enough that he was quickly beginning not to care. “Oh no, I know what happened. You’re someone’s pet, aren’t you? They probably threw you out when they realized you’re more of an overfed pigeon than a fai-“ as Oswald launched at Ed’s hand, mouth open, Ed grabbed him and held his mouth over the vial so the venom could go in. Guilt was ripping at Ed’s heart as Oswald struggled against him, one wing flapping furiously, but it was worth not losing his hand. When Ed let go of Oswald he jumped back from the desk so Oswald couldn’t come at him again without falling and injuring himself. Oswald went to sulk in the hollowed out book, closing the top over himself.

Ed felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he finally got the anti-venom finished. When he unbandaged his hand and applied it the bite it immediately began returning to normal, it was still there but it didn’t look like death anymore. Feeling very relieved he came back into the room where his bed was. He thought about apologizing but he figured disturbing Oswald would only make him angrier so instead Ed decided to go wandering in the woods again for a while, maybe go into town for the rest of the day, to give Oswald some space.

As Ed woke up the next morning he was confused to feel that his hand was hurting again. When he held it in front of his face to look at it he jumped back, hitting his head on the wall behind his bed. “Ow...” Ed nursed the back of his head by rubbing in with his right hand as he stared at his left. It was black now and the discolouration had spread to his wrist. The bite was inflamed and the veins around in it were bright green, sprawling up his arm too. Usually Ed liked green but not when it was obviously signifying he was most likely going to have to have his hand amputated that very day. It was strange, dealing with himself should’ve been Ed’s first priority but he felt like he must apologize to Oswald immediately as it was now apparent he’d caused him so much distress for nothing. He felt a bit woozy as he got up but he marched over to his desk anyways. Oswald was currently rummaging through Ed’s things, he didn’t look up when Ed started talking. “I didn’t mean any of those things I said yesterday, I just needed you .to..so I could try to save my hand, you understand. But it obviously didn’t work so I apologize.” Oswald didn’t acknowledge Ed was even there and Ed figured he’d done too much damage, he was about to turn away to get dressed and find someone in town to chop his hand off when he was startled nearly out of his skin.

“I’m not a pet.” Oswald muttered.

Ed spun around “You can speak?!”

“And speak well at that..” Oswald was studying a dead beetle he’d uncovered “I’m not anyone’s pet, or a doll, or a pigeon!” He said angrily turning to Ed. “I know you aren’t, I’m sorry I said those things, I was only trying to make you angry.”

Oswald looked down pensively “The human that took care of me died in a fire, it sounded like you were taking jabs at him too, apologize for that as well!”

Ed’s face fell “Oh...I-I’m sorry, genuinely..truly, and my condolences..”

“I want to be taken to where his house was so I can try to recover some of my things from the wreckage. If I’m to stay with you I’ll need some of my own stuff, I doubt I can tolerate your tastes.” He said, looking around the messy room with disgust.

Ed paused “You want to stay?”

“Yes! That is what I just said..” Oswald folded his arms, annoyed.

“I- of course, I just figured you were so cross with me you would be leaving.”

“I am cross with you. You could’ve just asked me about your hand after you helped me I would’ve helped you in return.”

“How was I supposed to know that-“

“Shut up and let me see.” Oswald was gesturing for Ed to bring his hand over. He was hesitant at first but he figured the worst that could happen was he get bitten again. He put his hand on the desk and Oswald came over, surveying it for a moment, admiring his handiwork before generously undoing it by placing a gentle kiss on the bite wound. Ed watched in amazement as not only the discolouration and infection disappeared but the bite itself. “Thanks..” Ed whispered.

They’d been able to salvage more from Oswald’s old dwelling than he’d expected. There was a quite large iron bird cage that looked to have floors like a dollhouse, some of the furniture inside was singed but Ed figured he could make new stuff or repair what was inside. There was also a steel chest with Oswald’s clothes in it, which he was elated to find. Ed had uncovered the body of Oswald’s previous companion and buried him at the fairy’s request, giving him some much needed closure and making up for provoking him. It was now night once more and Ed was changing into his sleep clothes. He was about to get into bed when Oswald whistled at him from the desk. “Yes?” Ed asked. “My bed is burnt and that book is uncomfortable.” Oswald complained, he was now in a nightshirt as well that was of course befitted with many ruffles. It didn’t take Ed long to figure out that Oswald was asking to share his bed. He walked over and picked Oswald up bringing him over to the bed and setting him on a side of the pillow before he himself got in. He was just beginning to doze off when he felt something small and soft curl up in the crook of his neck. Maybe Oswald was just cold, Ed thought but as he felt vibrating on his shoulder and a weird noise filled his ear he realized Oswald was...purring. Ed hadn’t planned on keeping Oswald long term but now he couldn’t imagine doing anything different.

#oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #the penguin #the riddler #riddlebird

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blackenedwhite97 · 3 years

Text

Trials ( An Erasermic x Reader Medieval AU Ch.17-18)

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

https://blackenedwhite97.tumblr.com/post/643722830321696769/trials-an-erasermic-x-reader-medieval-au

CHAPTER 17

White hot light seared into your eyes, sharp pain running from temple to temple. Your throat was raw, your skin felt waterlogged and frozen, and your back was screaming under strain. You were on your knees, arms outstretched to your sides and bound to a horizontal beam balanced on a post where your shoulders were mounted. You blinked hard, the midday sun glaring directly at you, and looked around. You were facing the open valley, the singed farmhouse far off to your left and one of the vacant homes closer to your right. You were quite strung up in the middle of the road at the entrance to the village, muddy slush up to your mid thighs. You tried to examine your binds pulling against them to test the strength of the rope and quality of the knot. When nothing happened but friction burns biting into your skin you realized you were going to have to cut yourself free.

You couldn't see behind you and with the piercing headache from oxygen deprivation, you couldn't focus on listening very well. Your heart was pounding in your ears so loudly that the white noise of nature and any movement behind you was completely drowned out. You closed your eyes to help your focus, picturing one of the serrated knives you stole days ago. Just as the handle began to form in your hand and hand clamped down on your wrist and it blinked away, not by your doing. Your eyes sprung open and looming above you was a tall man with a grizzled face and dangerous eyes.

He wore a half suit of armour, a long lavish quilted tunic falling past his breast plate to protect his legs. He smiled a nasty sort of smile that if had been standing your knees would have gone weak. He looked cruel. There was a small part of you, behind all the fear that was suddenly rushing forward and taking over, that wondered if this was Kozan. He struck you with the kind of fear the idea of Kozan had, afterall. You ushered that thought from your mind, any older man in House Noro heraldry could be Kozan. You couldn't let yourself succumb to that fear just yet.

"Little trick of my own." He gruffed. His voice was harsh like his throat had been torn up by a wild beast and ever full healed, his words wounded painful. " Similar to one of your men's abilities, although he was blessed with more range than I."

He lifted his hand off of your wrist, the dull purple glow of conjuration flaring up against. Then he placed his hand on your neck and pushed your head up so you were looking at him, you felt the conjuration fading away. You realized he was talking about Shouta and your teeth instantly began to grind, anger seeping through your fear.

"That bastard could have been so fucking helpful in the war." he growled. "Could have done what's right."

Anger roared up inside your chest, like wild flames began to warm and consume you. You clenched your fists tightly and narrowed your eyes. The right thing. Shouta had done the right thing.

"Son of a whore." you hissed. "You murdered innocent people."

"So," The man dropped his head and laughed as if you'd just told a silly joke, it was genuinely entertained. He looked back up at you, a glint of something unnerving in his eyes. "he's told you about me? Hm, you must be important to him, he was cold and mule and deaf mule when I knew him."

You begin to shake under his grip, his lip twitches and you realize he thinks that you're shivering in fear. You're positively livid now, this man had to be Kozan. You're clenching your teeth so hard that you can hear your teeth scraping down on eachother, your knuckles turning white from how hard you're clenching your fists. Your arm twitched, instinctively attempting to throw a punch, but the binds stopped you.

He seems not to notice, or rather elects not to.

"Exterminated. I'm an exterminator of vermin and all beings against nature. It's while God gave me the gift he did." he drums his fingers against your throat. "Murder would imply that the things I exterminate are human."

You grimace at his words. He was sick, deranged.

"That boy you killed- you murdered- was a real piece of shit if I'm totally honest. However, he was a piece of shit born into a long line of hunters of practitioners of the dark arts and-" He ran his thumb over the hollow of your neck absentmindedly, lost in his preachings.

"I know who you are." you spat angrily. "I know who he was."

His hand clamps down on your throat, the other reaching up and pulling your head back by your hair. Your eyes, already swimming with dark spots, blur. You can feel the vein in your forehead bulging and your whole body shaking for air and you think, just for a moment, that this is finally it. And you wished it wasn't so painful.

But then his hand lets go of your throat and you heave it a deep breath, choking and sputtering through a bruised airway. You take the brief moment his hand is away from you to try and conjure a blade but nothing forms as he tugs harder on your hair. You growl in frustration and pain, the contact with your hair must be enough.

"Now, generally speaking, I enjoy a good old hack and slash job." he spoke casually, as if he wasn't violently manhandling you. " And when I got the letter about you it felt like it was below my pay grade, after all you were weak enough to get captured by the local law. So, I Sent a handful of my boys up north to make sure you were dead on execution dayinstead of going myself, but our mutual friend and his fucking mutt had other plans."

You flinched at the mention of Hizashi. It was enough that he hurt Shouta, it was enough that he knew Shouta was involved with you at all, but knowing that hizashi was also on his radar struck fear into you. He cocked his head to the side like an animal hearing something for the first time, his cruel grin growing manic.

"I have it on good authority there is a handsomely sized search effort for you from the ant hill you insects swarm to." He declared, his hand in your hair tugging you along as he emoted. " So now, as retribution for the inconvenience you've caused me for the last six months, I'm taking the liberty to use you as my bait."

You growled. It was a frustrated growl, an angry growl and a sad mournful noise all in one. You had been so sure that you were the only one who would get hurt in this plan. You hadn't thought Toshinori would allow anyone else out of the fortress after you. You had been so sure you'd somehow brought this upon the people of Kaer Yuuie by refusing to die when you were supposed to, by being careless enough to leave the necklace behind, by needing saving in the first place, that you had been fighting some kind of wrong in the week. But now, you'd fed into this monster and his plan and now you were even greater of an endangerment to the people of Kaer Yuuie. Despite yourself you started to cry, humiliated and tears ran down your face.

Kozan grinned at you, a wild unhinged fondness sparking in his eyes. "That's a sight"

Despite his vicious hold on your hair his other hand was gentle as it stroked your cheek, following the trail of tears. You looked away, down at the muddy road and tried to stop crying.His sick enjoyment of your pain making your stomach churn.

"I do need a few things from you before this is all over." He said casually, looking at his wet fingertips. 'For started, where's the fortress."

You laughed at his bluntness.

"Eat shit." you spat.

He raised his free hand in a fist, bringing it down hard across your face. Your head snapped to the side, pulling against the grip he still has on your hair. White sparks flicker across your vision, but you blink them away quickly. Unphased, he moves on.

"Toshinori Yagi, is he there." He asked, calmly.

"Eat shit." you muttered again.

Again he brings his hand down and again your vision sparks white but this time you're sure he broke skin. He shoves your head back into the beam you're bound to and holds it there, the bruised flesh of your scalp crushing into the wood painfully. You winced but kept your reaction to a minimum simply taking a deep breath against the pain. You wanted to cry, you wanted so badly to scream but he would love that and you wanted nothing less than to do him any favors.

"Abilities," He started. "lay them out for me. Who'd out there in the woods, hm?"

"Eat." you spit. "Shit."

Again he brings his hands down, this time you lip bursts. The inside of your mouth fills with blood and you can feel a warm stream trickling down your chin. Both the inside and teh out were busted in just that one hit. Your jaw throbs in time with black spots that filled your vision, pulsing until they became smaller and smaller.

"That loud mutt," you instantly spit blood at him earning a shove against the beam. "what can he do? Logistics."

"Eat-" you didn't get to finish. This time it was several punches, his poised interrogator exterior cracking. Your bleeding heavily now, the dark spots won't go away and one of your eyes down fully open.

Now, you think to yourself, this is it. This is far more painful. You shudder, the only way your head is still being held up with Kozan's fist balled in your hair. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck and let go of your head, letting it fall painfully forward. The small preservationist part of you screams for you to conjure something quickly but your mind is swimming and you can't focus on a clear object.

"Let's start again." he growled, clearly no longer entertained but frustrated now. "Where is the fortress?"

You can't muster any words, you just sloppily spit as much blood towards him through your swollen lips as you can. He rears up for a punch, this time he's not holding onto you so he can use his full force and you brace yourself for unconsciousness. A smaller figure entered your blurred vision just as the punch was about to be thrown and Kozan dropped his fist with a disappointed sigh. You couldn't hear much of what was being said through the blood rushing in your ears but was somewhat relieved when Kozan turned away from you.

"Regretfully," he said in a low voice, more clearly than he's managed to sound all day "I have to cut out time today short. Your friends are causing trouble."

You watched as he walked away, his figure becoming less and less the image of a man but a shrinking blurred smudge and your eyes darken. The sun,still high in the sky, beat down on you. For the second time in your life you were left, bound to rot away under the sun for all to see. You started to cry, miserably and weakly.

CHAPTER 18

You start awake at the feeling of something touching your face, impulsively pulling away. You whimper at the sudden movement, every part of you hurt.

"Hey," a soft, sweet familiar voice like honey whispered. " It's me, it's us."

Your right eye refused to open anymore, and your left was bleary and tear filled. You looked forward, praying to see the face you knew that voice belonged to. When you saw those bright emerald eyes and heavenly flaxen hair your heart sputtered in your chest. You let out a sob, forgetting for a moment how close he was to danger, all you could feel was relief. Behind him you spotted a pale face surrounded in dark curls that faded into the night, tears falling from dark tortured eyes.

Seeing him, his tears and his fear suddenly breathed clarity into you.

"Run." you whimpered.

"No." Hizashi declared, an unusual severity in his voice. "Sho. Bindings."

Shouta blinked hard and rushed towards you, his hand gently found your cheek as Hizashi slipped sideways and pulled out a knife. For a brief second, you could see the valley before you before Shouta filled your vision and it was chaos. There was fire and lightning and flashes of bright orange. Every time the world lit up for a half second you caught sight of clashing blades and blood-soaked armor. A howl shattered the sky around you, an accompanying chorus of screams followed.

"Look at me." Shouta whispered, pulling your face towards him. He was shaking, he was scared. You wanted so badly to reach out to him and to hold him, you take him away from here.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, more to himself than you. He's surprised when you muster an answer.

"K-Kozan." you muttered against his hands. "Run."

Shouta's breath caught in his throat and he froze, rigid as a wooden doll. Even Hizashi pauses for a moment before carelessly tearing through the bindings, knicking your knuckle in the process. You're in too much pain to really notice and he's obviously too upset to either. An arrow whizzes past you and Shouta dangerously close to his head and he's suddenly brought back to reality. He curses and steps forward, catching you as you slump forwards as Hizashi cuts the bindings around your shoulders.

"I'm going to fucking kill him, Sho." Hizashi spat, slashing at the last set of bindings.

"Zash, I know but we have to stay calm." Shouta breathed, clutching you close to his chest. "We're in and out tonight, it's about Y/n tonight."

Hizashi kicked the beam you were stung up on, shaking in fury. He was so angry hot tears streamed down his face, and he threw his knife hard into the distance with a fowl growl. "Next time- fucking dead."

"Okay," Shouta appeased him, shifting your weight around so he could scoop you up. He was looking away from you, purposefully up at the sky or Hizashi. "For now we go."

You forced yourself to look up at Shouta, you needed to keep an eye on him. This was your fault he was here, near them again. Near Kozan. You gripped his tunic weakly and let out a sob, without looking at you he tightened his hold on you

"I-I- sorry-" you choked out. "s-sor-ry."

"Stop." he eventually muttered as he stood with a grunt. "It's not your fault."

"I-I brought him he-" You sobbed.

"Stop." Shouta said again, his voice cracking. "He would have found us eventually. Stop it."

You want to wrap your arms around him, you want to thank him, you want to be lying in bed between the both of them happily peering through the window at the stars. You felt so broken, so weak and tired and you wanted so badly to just rest. Real rest, not tucked away between two rocks for an hour of shallow sleep nor passed out in a snow covered field. Shouta began to move, turning towards the tree line.

Hizashi shouted, the ground shaking for a moment, and then you were blindsided. You hit the ground hard, air rushing from your lungs, the stone filled muddy snow biting into your skin. You gasp for air still reeling for the sheer force you were launched sideways with. You struggle to your knees and look up, adrenaline flooding your system. Everything still hurt, every movement srang tears in your eyes, but you need to find Hizashi and Shouta.

Before you see Shouta, face down in the snow. He's barely moving, his head lifted mere centimeters from the ground, dark red dripping from his forehead. Beyond him, a large horse clattered to a stop in the snow, one of the hoove impressions red with blood. Atop the horse is a rider, struggling to control the horse. The horse gave one good buck and threw the rider forward, clamoring away once it was free of him.

You scramble to the side, out of the horses' path needlessly and a volley of arrows pierced its side. It stumbled and sways and eventually hit the ground hard, falling hard on top of Shouta's legs. He hissed and reached out, trying to find anything to use as leverage to free himself. You start forward on uneasy legs, no sure of what you'll be able to do when you eventually get to him.

Shouta grasps in pain and the horse's body lurches, a dark figure appearing over top of the horse blade draw. In the fiery chaos of the valley you see Kozan as he was always meant to be, a mad man driven by war and chaos. You could see the bloodlust coursing through him as she stood, blade raised and simmering in the flames of war.

"Aizawa!" He bellowed triumphantly.

Shouta began to struggle wildly, he was calm and collected in the face of anything you'd ever seen thrown at him but this broke your heart. You hated this man, you hated him more than anything.you hated what he did to Shouta, what he did to all those people he killed and what he did to you and your life. If there was anyone who deserved hell, it was him. Suddenly the world shifted again, this time it was shattering around you and a high pitched ringing flooded your ears.

Kozan stumbled backwards off of the horse, his eyes wide and dazed. He howled in pain, gripping the sides of his head and he fell. You realized that it must have been Hizashi and took this opportunity to crawl to Shouta's side.

"Run!" Hizashi shouted at a normal volume, rushin forwards to pry Shouta out from under the horse. The two of you pulled him free and you and he collapsed into each other. Together you scrambled towards the trees, neither of your bodies able to carry your weights very well. Hizashi stayed ten paces behind, shouting deadly waves of sound backwards. Shouta's leg caved in with a sickening snap and he pushed you away from him as he slid down into the snow so as not to take you down with him. You slipped and laid but scrambled backwards to him just in time to hear a terrible silence. Hizashi had stopped screaming.

You looked up as you slid into the snow next to Shouta to find Kozan, blade drawn and ripping with blood. He was no more than ten paces behind Shouta, Hizashi falling backwards away from him, clutching his upper chest and neck. Your blood ran cold as blood oozed between Hizashi's fingertips. Kozan swayed on the spot, blood dripping from his ears, the veins in his neck pooled with blood.

With strength you shouldn't have had you dashed forward. You barely had enough time to each Kozan before he brought his blade down again. You crashed into him with all of your weight, if he hadn't been hit directly with Hizahi's sound waves you're sure he could have just shoved you off. You clamoured to the ground with him, his breastplate hitting you hard in the head flooding it with momentary white. Then he was on top of you, straddling your chest, hands wrapped firmly around your throat. The bright white lights from the impact of his breastplate fade down into growing black spots. It was so quick this time, your body and lungs already so tired and weak.

You closed your eyes and focused on the crushing grip around your throat, your hands flying up impulsively to grip his. You wrapped your fingers around this thick gloves...gloves. Hope, flared up in you. Hope in the form of rage.

It was in that growing darkness and burgeoning fury that a spark of brilliant purple came to you, just like it had six months ago in the walls of your home. It was in the form of a great, jagged and cruel. It came with lightning and thunder and the promise of revenge. You let go of Kozan's gloved hands and let your arms fall to your sides as a sharp thunder clasp rocked the earth around you. A loud whistle rang through the valley and suddenly everything was lit up from a single point directly above you. Like a ball of purple flame a great sword plummeted down from the heavens air rushing violently around it. As it got closer the valley got brighter, and for the first time you could see fear in Kozan's eyes. His hands let go of your throat and he looked upwards in awe and fear at the wrath he had brought upon himself. As he looked up, mouth open and scream just about to escape, he met it through the balde met it. From top to bottom Kozan was skewered by the long twisted bade, his blood bubbling out of his mouth and down his body like a waterfall.

It was a sharp pain, being stabbed by the end of the blade. It was shallow but the end of the blade was warped and as Kozan's body slumped to the side the tip of the blade tore through your skin leaving a deep gash between your breasts. You gasped as he fell off of you the great blade blinking from existence as your connection with consciousness faded.

With it the valley was shrouded in what felt like darkness compared to the beacon that was the great blade. You melted into the snow, your body was at its limit and you couldn't bring yourself to even turn your head and look for Shouta or Hizashi.

You stared up into the inky dark sky, silver stars dotting it in an arrangement of bears and bows and great warriors and lonely lovers. Then you saw a flower, glowing like starlight, or perhaps it was still a star blurring with tears. They began to fall, warming your cheeks. You wanted to be back home, looking up at the glowing moonlight flowers, Hizashi stroking your hair and Shouta resting his chin against your chest.

"Hey," it was jagged and pained but still sweet like honey, "where'd you go?"

You smiled tiredly. "Hot spring."

"Finally," Hizashi shifted your head so you were propped up on his lap, his hand running soothingly through your hair. "somewhere warm."

You only vaguely registered Shouta hobbling towards you, as your eyes drooped shut. His warm gruff voice shook as he told you he loved you and you smiled to yourself. You were home, they were home. How lucky you were, you thought to yourself as the world slipped past you, that you got to be with them until the day you died.

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n-anon · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 21: I Don’t Feel So Well

Description: Whatever Jack has, its starting to affect the other egos too

Prompts Used: Infection

TW: Disturbing imagery, eye horror, sickness and blood

He looked in the mirror, combing his hair, he glanced something out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of a light maybe, but when he turned his head there was nothing, he blinked, and his right eye began stinging, “Ow! What the-” He glanced at the mirror, it was red and green, bulging.....He wiped it several times, only for it come back goopy and when he looked at the mirror he saw his own reflection stare back at him, smirking, even though he was completely terrified, he let out a ragged scream and staggered back, falling to the ground. Something was tingling-no it̢ch̴ing at his skin, like a million ants were just crawling beneath the surface, biting at his insides, he wanted to claw at himself to get it out as he let out a shaky laugh, putting his head in his hands, what was happening?....

Marvin looked at the book, studying it with a perplexed expression, the flames next to him flickered as he concentrated on using his magic, he waved his own hand, trying to expel the power, a few sparks came out but not much, he cursed, he was really off his game today. He shut the book and turned around, focusing on something else when the flames blew out, a strange chill overcame him and he immediately was on guard, he lit up the room using magic and glanced around, nothing was out of place. At least that’s how it seemed, he couldn’t shake that something-something was wrong. A blast of static hit him from behind and he was thrown to the floor in a daze, dizzy he lifted his head, noting that blood was dripping from his own nose, he wiped it off in a daze, staring at the floating book above him, turned to a page he hadn’t checked in a very long time. He had to warn somebody.

Schneep scratched the back of his neck as he did the work, for some odd reason it felt like there was an insect back there, he kept scratching, the itching starting to feel jagged, a pull almost, in a daze he found himself walking out of the room towards the morgue, he shook his head as he pulled out a scalpel, snapping out of it and looking around very confused, he returned back, the scratching now constant as he itched and itched, but when he came back all he saw was blood on his own hands, and he started to panic, rushing to the bathroom to shakily wash his hands, but the blood stayed. It wouldn’t come off. It would n͟ev̨èr͞ come off.....

Jackie was sitting on top of a skyscraper, overlooking it, the city below him was quiet, too eerily quiet, he felt the wind blow against his mask, causing a strange chill to go down his spine, something was wrong, he felt....uneasy. But what was it? He turned around and saw a flash of green light, he immediately rushed towards it, only to be blinded, he swerved to a stop, teetering over the edge, he felt a gasp go through him as he backed away, hearing a voice telling him it was all for naught, he couldn’t save anyone. He was useless, where was he when they needed him? He backed into the wall, plugging his ears and trying to block out the voices calling him for help or insulting his own existence.

Chase blew his nose into the tissue, he had gotten sick recently, and he sounded like the garbage he thought he was, a glob of snot mixed with blood was on the tissue, he had thought about calling a doctor or even Schneep, but he didn’t want to bother anyone, he just sat at his couch, shuddering as wracking static shook his body, he coughed and saw red through his blurry vision, as he kept drinking the whiskey, staring blankly at the TV not really hearing it. He shut his eyes and went to sleep, as another static shiver went up his spine almost comfortingly.

JJ was reading when he realized exactly what was happening, he could feel the pull on the strings as he was lifted out of his chair and brought straight to him, the distorted voice greeting him gleefully, he listened to him talk, and then his eyes caught the cameras behind him, he saw Marvin cursing as things floated in his room and he couldn’t get out, his nose bleeding and eye twitching, Schneep as he fought the urge to cut open a patient, Chase as he sat there, slowly dying of a disease he didn’t even know wasn’t real, he himself could feel the static as the other approached behind him, and grabbed his shoulders, he felt them relax against his will as Anti whispered something in his ear, and it echoed until everything went black.

“ O͡nce͝ ̕onę g̴o͡e̸s ̸d́ow͡n͟,͝ t̸h̵ey̸ ̡al̀l̵ ͢go̢ ͘d͞o͠w̵n̵~̸.” (A/N: I actually really liked writing this one, plus saying the imagery and how each ego was differently affected is nice, hope you enjoyed too and if you wanna be added to the tag list lemme know!)

Tag List: @caithesavage777 @pyranoia @eliza-prince @the-puppet-show @miishae @char-arts-occasionally @lonelyseiren @antis-gauge @pmaismydna @asexualerror @heely-um @innocent-angel3 @miss-covert @therealtiger77 @randowaffle @darcywillfindyou

#jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #chase brody #dr. schneeplestein #jameson jackson #jackieboyman #marvin the magnificent #N writes #tw blood #tw eye horror #tw disturbing imagery #tw sickness

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murderousginger · 4 years

Text

Itch

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Graphic wounds. Spooky.

She itched. After three nights and four days in the wilderness camping in a tent, all she wanted was a hot shower and a comfortable bed. The hot water cleaned away all the dirt and grime from the trip, only leaving softened scabs on her legs from the bug bites accumulated throughout the four days. After her shower, she put on her biggest, most comfortable shirt she owned and laid down in her bed. She was determined to get a long, much needed night’s sleep. But she kept itching. She tossed and turned, looking for a comfortable position to herself to sleep, only to wake up moments later with the incessant itching.

She could feel her fingernails scraping the scabs off as she itched, but she didn’t care. The bites were unbearable. Her fingers always went back to scratching at the bites that were slowly turning into wounds.

She got up and went to the bathroom. She filled up a cup with water from the faucet, standing near her sink in the dark. She drank the water and hoped for it to take her mind off the itching. She opened her cabinet and took out the small medicine bottle, taking two and drinking more water. Benedryl would help stop the itching and let her sleep. It would just take time. She itched again.

After finishing her water she turned around to go to bed. She crawled under the covers and waited for the medicine to kick in. She itched.

Staring into the darkness, she waited for sleep to lull her back in. She begged for it. In the dark it was hard to discern time. Was she staring for 10 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour? She refused to look at her phone to find out what time it was. She needed sleep. She itched, but this time she felt something odd; a sort of fold under her skin. She felt over it again and wasn’t able to tell what it was. She sat up in bed and turned on her lamp on the nightstand.

She moved her covers off of her leg, drawing them up to her body to closely examine the scabs and bleeding wounds on her calves. Her legs looked normal, so she used her fingers to find the wound that felt odd. She found it above her ankle. Running her hands over it again, she felt something hard below the scab. She dragged her fingernail and pulled the scab off, looking underneath the oozing sore. She didn’t see anything, but she pushed at the hard substance under her skin and guided it toward the hole. A weird substance reached the open wound. She pulled at it, playing and tugging at it like a child does to a loose tooth.

She pulled a long, thin substance out of her sore. The thing was two to three inches long and unfolded as it came out, becoming a flat thing instead of rounded. She smeared the blood around with her fingers. It looked like a leaf of some sort. Or a stalk. Her breath quickened. Her legs twitched. She still itched.

Panicking, she scratched at her legs more, ripping open bug bites and creating new sores. She pushed and poked at her legs, finding more and more hard substances and guiding them out of the sores. She dripped them onto the bed as soon as she had them outside of her body. She ignored the pain involved and became obsessed with ridding her body of whatever these piece of things were.

Hadn’t she heard about some sort of bug that burrowed under your skin and incubated until it was ready to come out? Was this something like that? What were these things? And why did it look like leaves?

She couldn’t even begin to articulate words. Instead she kept moaning and ripping at her legs, trying to get all the pieces out. Five. Ten. Fifteen stalks. They were stalks. They had to be. Like corn husks or bean stalks. They looked like plant matter, but why were they in her skin? Was she growing them?

Her legs slowly started to feel like jello. Blood was all over her bed. But she had to get all the pieces out. She had to. It didn’t belong in her body. It was not part of her. How did it get there?

Her legs began to look like beaten hamburger. Bloody and almost unrecognizable. The skin was almost completely gone and yet she kept shredding her legs looking for more pieces of stalk. Had she found them all? Were they elsewhere on her body? She began looking up her legs and at her torso, ripping the comfy shirt off to search for more wounds. But she didn’t see any. Only her legs.

She ran her hands over her legs again, coated in blood and plasma trying to heal her. She didn’t feel any more pieces, but she couldn’t stop staring at the ones that lay on the bed. There were easily 30 pieces of the stuff, each varying sizes and shapes, anywhere from half an inch long to the length of her shin. Some were shaped like sticks, others unraveled to form leaves. But as she stared at them they seemed to move. Her eyes grew wide as they began to shake and slowly slither to her. She screamed as they ran up her legs and back into her gaping wounds. The wounds she had made bigger.

…

The sun rose the next day and she woke up with it. She moved her face toward the sun and soaked in its warmth. She was outside and loved the feel of the earth beneath her. The breeze and wet grass around her made her feel calm. The sun was starting its slow journey across the sky and she knew she would be there to see the entire thing. She adjusted herself constantly to get a better position, hearing the buzzing of insects flying by or the chirps of birds. Nothing would stop her mission to soak up as much sun as possible.

She was a sunflower, after all.

Masterlist

#storytime with murderousginger #spooky #writing #horror

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israltale · 3 years

Text

Wrong Food

Horror was the only one who switched between Nightmare’s Castle and his own AU to look after his Brother. Nightmare didn’t mind at all, as long as the other Skeleton would do his Job. He was just walking to the Snow in the direction of Snowdin.

“BROTHER!” His Papyrus called.

“Hey Bro.” Horror said, scratching his Bust open Skull.

“BROTHER! THERE IS A STRANGE ANIMAL RUNNING AROUND!” Horror blinked.

“Strange Animal?” Papyrus nodded eagerly.

“A RAM! THERE IS A RAM IN THE UNDERGROUND!” Horror tilted his Skull, a Ram would be wonderful for a longer food source.

“Alright, Bro. I will find that Ram.” He said with a grin, already grabbing his Axe.

“I’ll be back in a bit, Bro.” Horror said, going on a Hunt for the Ram. The Ram his Brother saw looked weird, but Horror could care less, as long as it brought food. The Ram was somewhere in the Woods and Horror would find it.

After a long search he was met with a Monster, it had Horns, like a Ram. Horror only knew them from books, but this one missed fur they had in those Books.

“You will be a feast for us.” He said, the Monster growled at him, there was even a large spiked Tail. Horror couldn’t remember if Rams had tails?

The Beast charged at him, as he raised his Axe. The strange Ram growled at him, opening its large Mouth to have a bite, but Horror dodged the Attack.This Ram was really strange, but who was he to decide that, he never saw a Ram except in those Books. He moved his Axe to hit the Ram, but the Animal was not having it, so he only hit its Tail.

The Monster screamed in Pain before hitting the Skeleton with its bleeding Tail. Horror could barely escape the attack, but he still managed only by a thread. Using the momentum of him throwing to the Ground and the Beast turning to attack him with its Body to slam the Axe into its neck, using his strength to behead it. Horror looked at the Dead Animal.

“Scaly Ram.” He mumbled, it couldn’t be a Monster, or it would have long dusted. Little did Horror know that there was a Reason for it, so he took the strange Ram home. Papyrus was happy to see the scaled Prey his Brother brought and together they started to take it apart so they could store the most of it.

“SCALES? I THOUGHT RAM HAT WOOL?” Horror shrugged.

“No clue, Bro. Never saw a Ram.” He said.

“BUT THE BOOKS SAID THEY HAVE WOOL.” Horror remembered that as well.

“It has meat, so what ever.” He said, descaling the Flesh. It seemed like there was something was in the Flesh, looking like a Tattoo?

“STRANGE.” Papyrus suddenly said.

“What’s wrong, Bro?” Papyrus stuck his Hand into the Ribcage.

“THERE IS NO HEART! ONLY THIS STRANGE CRYSTAL.” Horror looked at the Thing in his Brothers Hand.

“Huh… Never heard of a Ram or any Animal to have a Crystal and not a Heart.” He said, that was really a strange Ram.

“YOU TAKE IT AS A REWARD FOR YOUR HUNT! I WILL PREPARE FOOD FOR US!” Horror took the Crystal.

“Thanks, Bro. You’re the Best.” Horror brought the Crystal up to his Room, staring at it, there was something inside it, like an Insect but it looked different.

“Strange Ram… Scaly… no heart… tattoo on the Flesh.” He pondered why this strange animal was here and what it meant. He forgot about the Time until Papyrus called for Dinner.

“Looking good, Bro. Let’s dig in.” The Brothers finally shared a Meal after a long time, because they could afford it, there was so much meat to keep them for a while. He could leave for Nightmare’s Castle tomorrow without worry this time.

After the Meal Horror went to his Room again, going to sleep without being Hungry for a long Time. But once he went into his Room he noticed the glowing of the Crystal, going over to it.

“Hm? What’s going on with that thing now? Is something locked inside.” He wondered, looking to the pounding thing inside. Horror watched it a while, before he decided to hide it in his Drawer and go to bed, not noticing the small cracks on the Crystal.

Horror was asleep, before he felt an Itch inside his Soul. It was weird like something went inside there, but he was to tired to actually Care, only once a burning coursed through his Body he jerked awake. Pain throbbing through is bones. He couldn’t scream, or he would wake Papyrus, something he didn’t want. Horror felt like he was sitting in Fire, it was awful.

He had no idea when it happened, but at some point his Consciousness gave out and he passed out. He woke up again, as Papyrus knocked on his Door.

“SANS, TIME TO WAKE UP, YOU LAZYBONES!” Horror found his senses again.

“I’m up, Bro. I’ll be down in a bit.” He said, not noticing that there was a rumble in his Voice. He got up, still tired, that’s why he didn’t notice other things odd at him.

Horror made his Way down to his Brother. Papyrus starred at him.

“What’s wrong, Bro? Do i look that ugly?” Horror asked sleepily.

“BR… BROTHER… YOU… YOU HAVE A TAIL AND A HORN!” Papyrus exclaimed in Shock.

“What?” Horror wondered, trotting over to a Mirror. He blinked at his Image. A large red Horn sprouting out of his Skull, only on the Side that had no hole in it and a large red Tail with an Axe on his Tip whipping behind him.

“WHAT THE HELL?” He almost screamed, finally noticing the Rumble in his Voice.

Horror and his Brother sat in their Living Room, starring at one another.

“WHAT NOW BROTHER?” Horror had no idea.

“I don’t think it will go away… but we ate the Same stuff right?” Papyrus nodded.

“YES.” Horror thought about it.

“Wait!” He hurried up to his Room, almost ripping out the Shelf he had put the Crystal in last night. There was only shards inside it, nothing else. Horror collected them and brought them down.

“The Crystal is destroyed… Maybe it has to do with that?” Papyrus looked at the Shards. Horror grumbled, while thinking about it, his Tail moving slightly. At some Point he was scratching at the Edges of the Hole.

“SANS, YOU ARE DOING IT AGAIN!” Horror snapped out of it.

“Sorry, Bro. So this Change is… permanent?” Papyrus looked at him.

“WHY NOT GO ASK NIGHTMARE?” Horror nodded.

“Yeah…” It didn’t came to that, as the Underground began to shake violently.

“Shit. What’s going on now?” Papyrus worried as he hurried to the Door.

“Oh!” The other had almost run into a small Skeleton, with tiny purple Horns.

“WHAT?” He smiled up at the far taller Skeleton.

“Greetings” He said, the Boy wasn’t alone, there was a taller Skeleton with him, who had three Scars over his Skull.

“Bro? What’s wrong?” Horror got up.

“Could we come in?” The small horned skeleton asked.

“BROTHER, THERE ARE GUESTS?!?” Horror went to them.

“It’s like Guardian said! He turned.” The one behind the Horned nodded. Papyrus finally let them in.

“Greetings. My Name is Alure and this is Cobra.” The smaller said.

“What do you want? You don’t look like someone from any normal AU.” Horror grumbled.

“True, we aren’t from any normal AU. We were sent from our Guardian because they felt someone absorbing a Dragon Soul far away from our AU.” Cobra looked to the Window.

“This AU turns unstable.” He said, before the AU started to shake again. Horror growled at the other two.

“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Cobra sighed.

“Other AU’s can’t take the Magic a Dragon or a Dragon Hybrid holds, so they grow unstable.” Alure nodded.

“Exactly. That’s why we came here as fast as possible. If we relocate you to our AU, your AU will grow stable again and gives it a substitute. Meaning a new you will take your Place.” Horror starred at them.

“I won’t leave my Brother alone.” Papyrus watched them. He hasn’t absorbed a Dragon Soul like Sans.

“BROTHER, I DON’T BELONG THERE.” Alure smiled a bit.

“That is no problem at all. There is enough space in the Castle Town.” Horror was glad to hear that.

“AM I REALLY ALLOWED THERE?” Cobra nodded shortly.

“Sure. You can either Work there or live on your Brothers Payment.” Papyrus smiled.

“I WOULD LOVE TO WORK THERE!” Alure was glad to hear that.

“We should hurry up, before it gets worse.” Cobra warned them.

“What about Nightmare?” Alure tilted his Skull.

“He will also get a new Horror, or he already has one.” Horror sighed, that somehow made sense.

“Time to Pack fast, Bro.” He said, going upstairs with Papyrus. Alure went to Cobra.

“How long until this Timeline vanishes?” Cobra sighed.

“Maybe five hours, maybe more.” He said, while they heard the others Pack up some stuff.

“I wonder how he turned…” Alure looked up.

“We will learn once he meets the Leaders and Guardian.” The smaller nodded.

“True.” Finally both Skeletons came done.

“WE ARE SET!” Papyrus exclaimed excited.

“Alright, our Portal is at the Ruins. Please follow me.” The smaller said and started to leave the House. They went through the forest to the Ruins, where a Portal was waiting for them. Alure looked back, before he went trough. Horror was still a bit worried, but followed his Brother to this other AU.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Papyrus looked up in wonder, once they left the Portal. Horror followed his Gaze.

“Is that…” Alure nodded.

“Yes that’s the Night Sky. Sunlight is a bit Rare in this Area.” He told them, while walking to the large, dark coloured Castle.

“We will guide you to our Leaders, to sort some Things out.” He told them. Horror nodded slightly, he wondered what would happen once they were there. Cobra walked behind them, as they entered the Castle. There were Soldiers, Servants and some more like that little Guy running around.

“Yo, little Nightlight. Back already?” Horror blinked, that Hybrid looked awfully like Killer.

“Yes, Kiros. We returned, are they in the Throne Room?” Kiros nodded.

“Yep, all of them.” Kiros turned and pushed open the Door.

“Alure and Cobra have Returned.” He announced.

“Let them in.” A deep Voice rumbled. Kiros stepped aside so they could walk into the Room. Horror and his Brother followed them inside, there were even more like the little Guy and that Killer Version.

“Greetings. Welcome to the Castle of Chaos.” A Man with six large golden Horns said, Horror haven’t seen someone like him, not that he could remember at least, but he looked a bit like… Dream, only not that innocent anymore? Then he turned his red eye light to another Person next to that strange Dream.

Horror gulped, that was Nightmare alright. The Royal Presence even in this Dragon Version very present. He had his Cyan eye Light levelled down at Horror, six massive Cyan horns on his Skull, large wings and four tails where he would normally have his four Tendrils.

“We have returned, Narish.”

Horror felt uncomfortable. Narish starred at him and Horror thought he would see all his Sins and Soul in that Moment. His Brother was far different.

“GREETINGS!” He shouted. Horror feared that this Leader would rip his Brother apart. Alure on the other Hand stepped forward and gave his Report.

“Strange circumstances?” Narish asked, after the smaller finished. Horror shrugged.

“Ate a Ram, woke up like that.” Narish and Fracture looked at one another.

“A Ram?” Croma asked. It was Strange that a Ram would turn him into a Dragon Hybrid.

“BROTHER I ATE IT TOO.” Papyrus announced. This was even more strange. Horror shrugged.

“Had horns, was a Ram.” He said. Fracture pondered over this.

“Did it have Wool as well?” Papyrus shock his Skull.

“Was Scaly and had a large Tail.” The Silence grew in the Room suddenly.

“HE ATE A FUCKING DRAGON!” Pulvis wheezed out as he figured it out. The Woman with them looked thoughtful, Horror never would have thought that Nightmare would keep a Human.

“It shouldn’t even be possible.” She finally said. Narish nodded.

“Dragons are Monsters… This ‘Ram’ Should have dusted.” Horror tilted his Head.

“But it didn’t.” Fracture sighed a bit.

“As you prepared the Flesh… how was it?” The others seemed worried and on Edge, of Course something was off, even Horror knew that. He tried to remember what that Ram had looked like.

“IT’S FLESH SHOWED STRANGE BLACK MARKS!” Eriol growled.

“Like a Tattoo?” Horror nodded with his Brother.

“What else?” Narish asked.

“There was no heart, only a strange Crystal.” He felt the Tension grow thicker in the Room.

“Cobra, show our new Citizen down to the Town.” Cobra bowed before escorting Horror and his Brother outside the Throne Room.

“This stinks. That is definitely Inks doing.” Eriol hissed.

“Why didn’t it Dust?” Croma asked confused.

“Because the Soul was sealed.” Millenia said.

“According to Horror there was only a Crystal as well as the Other Organs, but no Heart and no signs of a Monster Soul.” She started.

“While it is possible to Seal a Dragon, it is rather hard to make it maintain its Original Form and not having it revert to a Human Husk.” Narish thought about it.

“So those Marks Papyrus had said was Inks paint?” Eriol nodded.

“It has to be.” Croma looked at the Leaders worriedly.

“What if he enters here and Turns to one of us? If he is already that Strong… it would get WORSE.” Narish nodded.

“I agree.” Millenia chuckled a bit.

“He can’t. He might be able to get Dragons out, but he can’t enter.” All of them turned to her.

“How so?” Fracture asked.

“Remember the great Shattering i told you about?” The Leaders nodded, she had told them a while ago.

“That was the only time he ever could enter, once the Ancestors found out that he had his Fingers in that whole scheme as well, they blocked off any possibility for him to enter. He is able to lead People to this AU, but he himself is forever forbidden.” Narish sighed.

“But he could take a Dragon out and absorb its Soul.” Eriol growled.

“He could, but Ink is also aware that he would destroy the Multiverse if he would do that. Because even as a Dragon Hybrid he wouldn’t be able to enter.” Fracture got it.

“Meaning the Multiverse wouldn’t be able to correct his Creation and would eradicate itself.” Millenia nodded.

“Exactly, while IsralTale would still remain, everything else would end.” Eriol found Relief in that.

“But… Why does he fiddle with us and Create Hybrids?” Kiros asked, he wanted to know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Horror on the other Hand, was brought with his Brother to one Empty House, close to the Castle still.

“WILL I BE TURNED AS WELL?” His Brother asked. Cobra looked at them.

“We don’t turn just because it is fun. Most of the Hybrids were either turned by Accident or it was their only way to survive.” Horror grumbled slightly.

“They all had the Choice, if they didn’t want to they could have left.” The new Hybrid knew what that meant… Death. Cobra sighed.

“How about you settle and see how it is. If there is no need for you to turn to life how you want to, then don’t do it.” He then looked to Horror.

“All Hybrids decided to take on new Names, to leave their Past behind.” Horror nodded.

“Can i ask something?” His Brother looked at him.

“Go ahead.” Horror wanted to know.

“You aren’t like them.. .still i sense a certain Power inside you and they seemed fond of you.” Cobra nodded.

“True, i am no Hybrid, nor did i ever decide to become one. I was born in this AU unlike the others, except the Woman you saw.” He answered. Horror nodded, that was an Answer he could work with, before they stepped Inside.

Everything they might need was already inside, even a small, fresh amount of Food and beginning Money to buy what they wanted.

“BROTHER!” Papyrus explored their new Home.

“THEY ARE SO THOUGHTFUL!” Horror nodded, they made a new start very comfortable.

“Let’s see what the City is like and then Think about what to do.” His Brother nodded and they left to roam the Town.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They all sat in the big Meeting Room, even Horror, while they still talked about his Turning.

“What do you think? We confirmed three Interferences by Ink already, probably even more.” Kiros said sharply.

“Lets Review so far. It is confirmed that he had his Hands in Croma’s, Eriol’s and Horror’s turning.” Horror grumbled.

“Slaughter.” Everyone turned to him.

“What?” Fracture asked.

“I want to be called Slaughter now.” Narish nodded.

“Alright. Slaughter it is.” He acknowledged his new Name.

“Who else did he have his Hands in..” Millenia sighed.

“To be honest… i think with all of you.” Fracture blinked.

“Why so, Flower?” Millenia leaned back.

“Alure came here because one Hatchling that had mysteriously found his Way into his AU.” Narish frowned.

“Impossible. Hatchlings don’t have that much Power.” The Woman nodded.

“Technically, they have, but won’t.” Alure shivered, remembering the Pain and how hurt he was to see the little one dust in his Arms.

“What about Solei?” Kiros asked.

“He said a Woman with pale purplish grey hair brought him here.” Millenia knew who they talked about. It was interesting to hear that her Weapon had brought Solei to this AU.

“Kiros wasn’t brought in by Ink.” Fracture pointed out.

“Not that i am aware of…” Millenia crossed her arms.

“Still possible. Nightmare somehow had learned from our AU, while it isn’t possible because it was another Timeline and not the one from the Great Shattering.” Kiros frowned.

“So it’s possible Ink told him about the AU somehow?” Narish growled deeply.

“I don’t like how deep he is involved.” Slaughter didn’t like what he heard here.

“We know he had direct interference in Croma’s turning, throwing him in here.” Fracture said and said, tall Skeleton nodded.

“Yes, i wanted to know where my Comrades where and he threw me in here.” Narish tapped his Phalanges on the Table.

“HE had no interference in my or Fracture’s Creation.” Fracture nodded.

“Yes because we were Created by the Lake’s power.” Pulvis frowned.

“He could have had a Hand in my Turning as well… The Man who found me, also got his hands on my Comrades.” Slaughter was really impressed in how many turnings Ink had his Phalanges in.

“We also know his Hands in Eriol’s turning, but i don’t Think Syo…” Cobra nodded.

“I talked with him and he said there was no sign of Ink. He missed his Lover for a long time and thought of giving up as the Children found him.” Millenia sighed.

“Yeah his Circumstances looked rather Normal.” Eriol slammed the Table.

“So why does he want us being created?” Narish wondered about that as well.

“Maybe he hoped that you would rage and attack other AU’s.” Slaughter said. They all looked at him.

“This is actually pretty plausible.” Fracture said.

“Why so?” Narish grumbled.

“He hoped that while most of us were turned without a real Choice. We would turn our anger against the Multiverse and attack it.” Fracture nodded.

“Making it able for him to play the Almighty Hero who slays the Dragons.” This was so fucked up, to that all of them Agreed. The question was… when will Ink stop, will he dump all of them in here? Until every Sans out there is changed?

Slaughter waited for them to finish their Talk.

“Hey… Can i ask something.” He finally said, after they all got a slight Pause in their Talking.

“My Bro thought of Something he would like to do, so he won’t be sitting around all day.” Narish nodded.

“What would that be?” Slaughter slipped a piece of Paper to the Leaders.

“He want to open a Bakery.” Slaughter said. Millenia looked at it as well.

“This looks really great.” She said impressed.

“He likes to cook and Bake, but he rather wants to Open up a Bakery.” Narish looked over it.

“Alright, we can make that Bakery down in the City close to the Marketplace.” Fracture nodded as well.

“But what about you, Slaughter?” He shrugged.

“I’m good as a Butcher or Woodsman.” Croma looked at him.

“Good, then you will work as those, as well as for us. Far as we know from Kiros and Croma you were part of the so called ‘Bad Sanses’” Slaughter nodded.

“Yeah. Worked all under Nightmare.” He said. Narish leaned on one side of the Chair.

“Which i am close to.” Slaughter nodded as well.

“Yeah, look like Boss.” Fracture chuckled.

“I wonder if we ever meet our Originals? Other Versions? What ever it is called.” Narish chuckled.

“Maybe… One Day, for now let’s go to the Dinning Hall, Dinner is already ready.” Slaughter joined them, before returning to his Bro and telling him that in the Next days would be his Bakery finished. Papyrus was already hyped about it, wanting to see People enjoy what he makes.

#IsralTale #DarkMillenia #dragonhybrids #Slaughter

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

Her Monster (part one)

[Wing AU; Tour!verse]

A new and improved rewrite of a very old fic! Hopefully this one will be better than the past one! I’ve cleaned it up a lot because GOD there were so many tense shifts lol

EB belongs to @spooner7308!!

TW: Blood

-------------------------------

Chapter One - Devils Don’t Fly

Sometimes bad things just happened to good people. Sometimes fate just has other plans for someone. In EB’s case, that was very much true.

Elizabeth Barton--or simply EB--had been missing for a year and two months. She was remembered for her biting wit, harsh retorts, and overabundance of sarcasm. It wasn’t easy to get along with her, but there were a select few who were close to her, and that’s why her disappearance hit as hard as it did.

By now, though, mostly everyone had moved on.

The funeral was an open casket with just photos and one of her beanies inside. It was hard to look at, painful even. The idea that she was still alive, since her body was never found, came about, but it had been dropped for awhile.

EB became a mere memory in the back of the cast’s mind.

But Joan was still hanging onto the memories that she was still there.

Jane told her she needed to move on, and she knew she did, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t accept the fact that her friend was really gone, that there was no one around to affectionately call her a “weird little creature” or beat up the hybrid-hating racists that sometimes loudly complained at stagedoors. No more warm hugs from giant griffon vulture wings that seemed to envelope her entire body, no more late night flies because nobody else would humor her nocturnal nature, no more wordy retorts that always made her giggle no matter how awful she was feeling.

No more best friend.

It was November, now. Fall was coming into full bloom. It was Anne’s idea to go to the park on their day off, and everyone obliged, knowing that the trip would be a good chance to stretch their wings. Joan hadn’t wanted to go, but Kat had sternly said she needed some fresh air, as she became more and more reclusive ever since EB’s death (not death, not death, she’s not dead, she can’t be--) and rarely ever went out. But she branched off from the group to venture further into the forest, wanting to be alone.

It’s funny, she thought. She hated the fact that she was alone that EB was now gone, but she hated the company of other people. There was only one avian she wanted, and everyone was sure she wouldn’t ever be coming back.

Joan spread her wings to the slim slivers of sunlight leaking through the canopy of trees. She used to hate them, but EB said they made her interesting. But now she was back to hating them all over again.

Rustling snapped her out of her trance. Deer jumped out of the underbrush and rushed right past Joan, causing her to leap away and fall on her back. Her wings thrusted outwards in surprise, tail lashing. She rolled over, wincing slightly, then realized the odd behavior of the animals. Deer normally didn’t run towards an avian.

They ran away.

Joan stood up and brushed herself off, ruffling out her feathers to rid them of any dirt. She was still pondering why the deer were acting so weirdly when she heard it.

The squeaking.

Curious and concerned, she tiptoed forward and peeked through the brush. There, only a few feet away, was a doe lying in a pool of its own blood. Its stomach was ripped open, but it was still alive, like whatever had killed it wasn’t interested in eating at the moment. The sight made Joan’s veins turn icy in fear.

What did this?

When she found out, she wished she had just ran off with the rest of the herd.

Growling came to the left. A large, bulky creature emerged from its hiding spot in the trees, perching on a branch with long, curved talons. It had molted green skin and bug-like eyes. Multiple rows of teeth poked out of its maw, dripping with drool. The barb at the end of its tail was just as menacing as its seven-inch claws. When it noticed Joan, it exhaled a low hissing breath and buzzed its four insect wings.

A WingEater.

But that’s impossible! WingEaters shouldn’t exist anymore! Wasn’t the gene to activate the form dead or something?

Joan flung her wings open but it was too late; the monster was upon her. There was a terrible pain- everything went black when she hit that tree.

Joan woke up on the ground.

No-- Wait-- Waking up implied she was in a bed, at home, safe.

Joan came to.

She was lying face-down on the ground, mouth full of dirt. There was a metallic tang on her tongue- she was frothing red at the lips.

Joan lifted her head up and coughed out gritty clots of scarlet. She saw the WingEater hunched over a few feet away, distracted by something. This was her only chance to get away so she crawled. She crawled until she could finally force herself to stand up and run.

She staggered back towards the park. Someone screamed. Multiple people scream. Jane was covering her mouth in shock- but why? Maria was shielding Bessie’s eyes, Aragon had backed herself up into Kat’s arms, Anne looked like she was about to faint…

Joan’s knees were wobbling and her vision kept blurring with a blizzard of black. She couldn’t focus on anything. She attempted to speak, to ask what was wrong, but only blood flooded out. Deliriously, she dabbed her fingertips against her lips and stared in bewilderment when they came back red, like she was just now noticing her body violently ejecting its own fluids. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Cleves, maybe Maggie, sprint somewhere- where was she going?

Joan couldn’t follow, couldn’t ask what was going on. Her legs gave out. She dropped into a pool of her own blood.

It wasn’t the deer that WingEater was eating.

---

The Flightless. That was what people who have lost their ability to fly were called. Almost as disgraceful as hybrids. That was what Joan was now sorted into.

The doctors spent six hours trying to stabilize Joan. Eventually, they got the bleeding to stop--it was a lot of blood for one body--and stitched up the gash, but nothing could bring back the wing that was ripped off.

Joan would never fly again.

When she woke up, she cried. Joan shivered and sobbed and had bad panic attacks. The anguish was blinding- the pain was worse. Even with the antibiotics, she was overwhelmed by white hot agony that seared up through her back, ripping her apart from the inside out.

Her world was crashing down.

She hadn’t realized the damage at first, apparently. She was in a severe state of shock when she came hobbling into the park, clothing drenched in her own blood. People who had witnessed it said she looked extremely dazed and completely out-of-it, unaware of the gore she was soaked in, unaware that her back was spitting like a spigot. She just kept asking herself why. Why her? Why did this have to happen to her? What did she ever do?

When she was released from the hospital, Joan went home and lay in her bed for six days. For six days she suffered. She didn’t eat, barely drank anything, and just about everything had to be forced down her throat.

Eventually, she recovered, but she didn’t get better. Not psychologically. That was why her new psychiatrist prescribed her antidepressants. She didn’t think they worked.

Still, she eventually forced herself to get up. Even when it felt like someone had just ripped out her spine and proceeded to beat her into a pulp with it, she hauled her body off to work.

Without her other wing, though, her balance was completely thrown off. She stumbled around like a giraffe with broken legs, unable to stay upright. Not to mention all the stares she got.

The one-winged fledgling was a freak.

The others did their best to ward off gawkers, but they couldn’t always be there. Not when kids plucked out her feathers or tried to touch the spot where her other wing used to be when she was at stagedoor or out near fans. Not when adults made snide remarks when they thought she couldn’t hear them. Not when other avians posted on social media about the Flightless hybrid in SIX.

The anger and despair from it all simmered inside of Joan.

After work one day, Joan avoided the other ladies in waiting and the queens. She felt delirious and achy and just wanted to be alone.

Guided by the evening light, Joan stumbled right into predator territory.

The WingEater came out of nowhere, ramming into Joan with the force of a charging bull and sending her sprawling across the ground. She tried to scamper away, but a powerful beak clamped down on her remaining wing and threw her into a tree.

Joan was roughed up badly, so much so that she thought the WingEater that had taken her wing had come back for revenge. But that one had been a Cimex. This one was a very angry Avem.

It stood at a staggering eight feet tall, with choppy tail feathers and massive wings. Its plumage, sand-colored that faded to dark brown, was now smeared in her blood. Its narrow white head lacked feathers, rather having the fuzz that most vultures had, but that made its enraged expression even more clear to her.

The WingEater soon pinned her to the ground. A massive, bird-like foot that was tipped with razor sharp black talons pressed down on her chest with so much weight that she thought her ribs were cracking beneath the force. The beast opened its hooked beak around her neck, preparing to rip her throat out, and Joan sobbed, “Just do it.”

The beast’s jaws twitched, then it pulled back slightly. It looked down at Joan, bloody and sobbing beneath it.

“Just kill me already!” Joan cried, tears streaming down her face. “Do it! Please! I-- I don’t even care. I don’t wanna be alive anymore.”

That did it.

Some humanity returned to those pitch black eyes.

The WingEater dipped its head to Joan and gently began to lick one of her many wounds clean. Joan flinched, trying to squirm away, but the foot on top of her curled its claws around her and dragged her into the fluffy girth of the creature when it laid down. All she could do was look up at the sky and sob, letting the monster clean her of all the blood, though she was sure it was just trying to calm her down so she’ll be easier to eat.

Goddesses, she wished EB was there.

#wing au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fic #uk tour six #eb #elizabeth barton #tour joan on the keys #tour katherine howard #katherine howard #tour anne boleyn #tour catherine of aragon #tour jane seymour #her monster

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