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tadc-ragatha · 6 months

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It's Symbolic - Chapter 1: Puke

TW: Screaming, (painless) torture (what Pomni went through in the teaser), vomit/general sickness, centipedes (bugs), knives, a large/dangerous animal, (censored) swearing

Type: Fic; platonic

A/N: "You wake up somewhere new feeling very, very sick." Teen gender-neutral reader. Based on a post of mine available here [x]. I did my best here alright. I'm still working my way into characterisation.

"What—what's going on?! What the hell is going on?!" a voice screamed.

You looked around. Everything was a fuzzy mixture of dark colours, and your head was spinning. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the ground and tried to feel your way around.

"Now, are you ready for the show to begin?" a different more masculine voice boomed. A silence followed. "I said, are you ready?"

You were feeling at wooden plank flooring. Everything was dark, making it hard to find your way around as you felt like your brain was going to explode. Vomit was filling its way up your throat as you struggled to get to your feet.

"I'm ready, Caine!" said a third voice. It was cartoonishly cheerful and pierced into your brain.

Your legs giving way once more, you decided to crawl your way forward. It was hard to tell what direction you were going with your eyes yet to adjust to the darkness. However, feeling with your hands, you felt yourself brush up against a soft fabric. Using it as a guide, you crawled in its direction.

Yet just as your head was beginning to calm, a loud drum roll erupted. Instantly, your head was pounding again, and the nausea returned. Threatening to spill, you clamped your hand over your mouth.

Only, as you did so, you did not feel your mouth nor your hand. Instead, you felt thick hair all over your face and a cold round piece of metal. Moving your hand around, nothing changed. Every inch of your body was covered in long hair. Except for your hands, which as you felt them were wide slightly curved in metal circles—nothing like a normal human hand.

The drum roll stopped as a bounty of music filled the air. It was so much louder than the drums and sent your head splitting. With a sharp inhale, you tried to crawl through the pain. But with each crawl you were met with the music becoming louder. They were ear-splitting, head-smashing, brain-melting circus tunes.

"First up," the masculine voice who you assumed was Caine continued, "we have our jester Pomni on the amazing knife-throwing wheel!"

A "fwip" sound followed by a thud was heard.

"Hey! hey!" the voice from the start pleaded; one you assumed belonged to the so-called jester Pomni. "I didn't sign up for this! Let me go!"

Next you noted on the list of ear bleeding-inducing sounds was a comically stereotypical sound of something metal being revealed. You assumed it was a knife. And you guessed you were correct, as based on the blood-curdling screams from Pomni as the knife hit something with a thud.

The screams died down as Caine went on to say, "next up, the mind-boggling Gangle with her comically large and dangerous pet tiger!"

You heard the fwip and thud again, which was no help to your increasing headache. The tiger growled from somewhere nearby. Vomit was threatening to shoot out your mouth again. You spat all the saliva you could get out.

From the same direction as the growl was blubbering. Soon, it turned into full blown crying as the tiger growled louder. But you didn't care; the headache was too much.

The tiger's growling came to a stop as you heard the schlop of something wet hitting the floor. Yet the crying continued. Meanwhile, Caine went on to introduce something else.

"And now, our bravest Ragatha will dive head-first into a pool of writhing centipedes!"

"Caine!" a feminine voice complained. You heard the fwip and thud a third time. "You know how much I hate centipedes!"

"Is she going to do it?" The cheery voice asked.

Caine replied, "well, Bubble, I don't know! Why don't we give her a little encouragement?"

"Wait! No! No, no, no--hold on!" Ragatha pleaded. Without what you assumed was any care, something happened to Ragatha and she started screaming.

It was starting to get hard to spit the saliva out without having vomit come up your throat. As you tried to spit some more out, a pile of bile spilled out of your guts and onto the floor. Everything was spinning again as you felt another wave of vomit coming up. Finally, you gave up on moving and sat there on your hands and knees trying to keep steady.

"And now, please put your hands together for Kinger and his--" Caine was cut off. As the fwip was heard once more, light poured into your eyes as you gave in and puked your guts out. Wave after wave and pile after pile of pure bile spilled out of your mouth and onto the floor. It was too painful to take in the gasps around you, nor the fact that your vomit was black like ink.

Slowly, the spewing came to a halt. As you looked down, you finally saw what a mess you had made, and how your body did not at all look like how it was supposed to. Where you could feel hair was exactly that—thick long brown strands of hair covering everything—and where you could feel metal were gold circular metal plates. Cymbals.

"Looks like someone had a rough transition!" Bubble exclaimed.

Wearily, you looked up and around to try and get a sense of what you were dealing with. All around you were six strange figures of different colours, sizes, and proportions. Levitating in the air were two of the figures; one a clear bubble-like sphere with sharp teeth and beady black eyes, and another that seemed to be a living set of teeth and eyes atop a red suit. A giant tub of centipedes, a tiger, and a dart board sat off to the side.

The sphere, who you assumed was Bubble with its cheery voice, levitated towards you. Opening its mouth, you froze. All that ran through your mind was based on the screams of terror you had heard you were going to die. Yet just as you closed your eyes and prepared for impact, Bubble stuck out its tongue and began to lick at the puke.

The teeth man sighed. Based on his voice you assumed he was Caine. But his expression quickly changed as he pointed his cane towards you.

"Well, it seems our activity for today has been interrupted by a new human entering the realm!" He smiled.

From behind you, a red curtain was lifted up. From underneath, a purple rabbit poked his head out. He walked out into the area, took one look at the mess you made, and grimaced.

"What the hell is goin' on here?" he asked. "Is this a new sucker?"

"Not a new sucker, Jax," Caine responded, "but a new friend!”

You groaned. Your entire throat was burning from the bile and your headache was worse than ever. The sudden light made your eyes hurt. Meanwhile, you were trying to take in all the information around you. Reaching up to your face, you tried to grab at something around your eyes. But there was nothing there.

“Where am I? Where’s the headset?” you mumbled.

All of a sudden, you felt yourself be yanked up by the arm. A new wave of vomit threatened to spill. Looking up, you found yourself face to face with Caine.

He said, “my dear, you have stumbled into the world of the Digital Circus!”

“I’m gonna be sick—”

“Now, now, no time for being sick here!” he cut you off. “You’ve made your way into the world of wonder and amazement!” he paused. “Hence the name.”

“What the hell is going on?” a different voice called out. Poking their head out from behind the same curtain Jax emerged from, they revealed itself as a strange amalgamation of different brightly coloured shapes. The two eyes on their pink triangle head widened when it saw you. “What the f-%$@!#?” they yelled, the curse word they said bleeped out in real time. “Another one?! Pomni was only a week ago!”

“Zooble! Language!” Caine pointed at her with the cane in his hand. Zooble didn’t say anything.

“Okay, everyone, let’s just calm down.” A different person stepped forward. She wasn’t the shortest of the bunch—being taller than the small jester you assumed was Pomni shivering off to the side with knives stuck in her—but she wasn’t the tallest, either. Flicking a centipede off her long dress, she said, “you know how stressful this can be. Let’s just take a minute to help them adjust.”

“Come on, Ragatha.” Jax rolled his eyes.

“Who…Who are you people?” You looked around the room.

Jax put his fist on his hip and cocked his head to the side, grinning.

“Why don’t you tell me who you are?” His smile spread wider, showing off a set of yellow cartoonish teeth. It concerned you how he managed to speak without opening them.

“Jax!” Ragatha snapped.

“I’m…” you started. Jax continued to stare at you, still smiling. “My name is…”

“Can’t remember?” he finally spoke up.

You turned away from the group. With your head resting on your hand—or cymbal—you tried to think. The headache was still pounding in your head, and it was hard to formulate any thoughts. Wracking your brain for an answer for a good few minutes, your breath started to quicken. Slowly, the answer dawned upon you.

“Oh my God!” you groaned. Jax chuckled from the side. “Oh my God! What’s my name?!”

“Don’t fret, my dear.” Caine rested a hand on your shoulder. “Nobody can remember their name here! One beauty of coming to the digital world is being able to form a whole new identity for yourself! So, what would your dream name be?”

“What’s my name?” you mumbled.

Caine cleared his throat, repeating, “I said, what would your dream name be?”

“I—I don’t—uh, [Y/N]. What’s my name?” You tried to rest your face in your hands; it was uncomfortable.

“[Y/N] it is!” He spun up into the air, voice booming. Meanwhile, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

“I just wanna go home. How do I go home?”

He cleared his throat, “well, um…There—well, there is no…Exit, per se.”

“Wh—what?!” you spluttered.

You looked at the group for answers. Instead, they looked at you with varying degrees of frowns and upturned eyebrows. Except for Jax, who grinned, and Zooble, who looked at you with a claw on his hip.

“How old are you?” they asked. “You don’t sound any older than seventeen.”

“I’m fifteen,” you replied. “How—why—why’s there no exit? How do I leave?”

“Fif—” she cut herself off. “Holy f-%$@!#, Caine! What’s your problem?!”

Caine gasped, “‘fifteen’? My, my! Finally, a real young person here to enjoy the Digital Circus!”

“What, you sayin’ I’m not young?” Jax scoffed.

Zooble groaned, multicoloured and oddly shaped antennae on her head twitching, “God, Jax, just shut up for one second. This is a child!”

“Fifteen?” a meek voice sounded from off to the side. Looking over, you saw a spring of red ribbon with ribbon legs and arms. Lying on the ground beside it was a broken mask, the same material and colour as the crying face mask it wore.

From beside them, Pomni watched. Eyes darting from person to person, she looked extremely uncomfortable with the commotion. Slowly, she backed up from the group.

“What’s going on?” she whispered. Nobody took notice.

“Okay, okay, listen!” Ragatha tried to instruct them. “Our number one priority should be making sure [Y/N] feels safe and comfortable here, not fighting with each other!”

“You’re right, Ragatha!” Caine said, voice still jolly. “Poor [Y/N] here hasn’t even gotten a tour of the grounds yet!” He lowered down to reach for your arm.

Ragatha reached out her own arm to block him, yelling, “wait! Caine, would it be alright if we did the tour later? I think [Y/N] would like to see their room first, right, [Y/N]?”

You didn’t reply. Your mind was spinning, but no longer from the headache or dizziness. While the nausea had subsided, your thoughts were swarming you. Theories and concerns flooded your brain, nagging at your conscious and slowly tearing it down. Sitting there on the ground with your head in your cymbal-hands, you swayed back and forth.

“Right. Well, I’ll let you get to that. Come on, Bubble,” he called the sphere over to him. Once it was within reach, he popped it. With that, he bowed with his top hat and disappeared in a poof of smoke, the tiger going with him.

For a few seconds nobody spoke. Looking up, you saw Zooble’s antennae still twitching while they frowned at Jax, who watched you with an open-mouthed smile. Ragatha took a deep breath and walked over to you. Holding out her hand, you took it, and she pulled you up to your feet.

“You can tell Kinger it’s safe to come out now.” She motioned to a pile of pillows behind the group. From inside popped out the head of a giant white chess piece. It wore a purple king’s robe; its uneven eyes blinked out of sync.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Y—yeah, what’s going on?” Pomni asked, still shaking.

Ragatha answered, “we’re going to take our newest friend [Y/N] to their room. Anyone want to come?”

Nobody answered, until the ribbon figure spoke up, saying, “okay.”

“Great! Come on Gangle. [Y/N], I’ll show you around.” Taking your hand in hers, she and Gangle walked towards the edge of the stage. Looking back, you saw the group watching you intently. But no sooner had you looked over at them that you were pulled away, view blocked by a black curtain.

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liltaz-asatreat · 2 years

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The Screams Came Back

(Also on ao3)

(TW: PTSD, Hearing voices, hearing screaming, referenced self harm, referenced hospitalization [though it’s implied to be less of a hospital and more of a torture thing I suppose])

Note: You ever wake up to some genuinely horrible news, and then that somehow triggers a trip down traumatic memory lane that is wholly unrelated, and then hours later, you shit out a 692 word vent fic that references an event that is a very very thinly veiled metaphor of what actually happened?

Yeah, me neither.

(For real though, don't read this fic if you expect this to have a bitter sweet ending or some kind of message behind it like a lot of my other fics do because I'll tell you right now, this ain't it.)

“Let go of me!”

No.

Lucretia's grip tightens on her staff as she freezes in the middle of the courtyard. Not again. Please not again. She hasn't heard him scream in years please please please not here. Not now.

“I said let me go!” He's yelling. It always starts with him yelling.

Her heart starts racing, and her hands begin to sweat. Shut up! He's fine now; just shut up!

“Please!” His voice is pitiful, desperate. “Please let me go!”

She squeezes her eyes shut for a few awful seconds and resists the urge to cover her ears. It wouldn't be of much use anyway.

Magnus screams. He screams and screams and screams like someone is murdering him, but no one is hurting him anymore. No one is even touching him, and still, he screams.

Lucretia's eyes snap open, and she all but runs back to the dome that houses her bedroom. This is in the past. He's safe in Raven's Roost now. Please stop screaming. Please please please–

She's dimly aware that someone might have called out her name as she opens the door to the dome, but she can't hear them over Magnus' screaming and her own thundering heartbeat, nor does she have the will to care at the moment.

“Stop! Let go of me!”

Lucretia throws open the door to her room and slams it shut behind her again, and she locks it up tight. Then she races to her bathroom, discarding her staff on the way, and she skids to a halt in front of her sink, panting slightly.

He screams again, and it's an awful, painful thing. He's so scared and terrified and trying to talk to him only makes it worse. He just screams louder and louder every time they do, and he hits himself, and they can't do anything but watch because making any kind of physical contact to stop him makes it so much worse.

Lucretia turns on the faucet and splashes water on her face. Cycle 90 was about 17 years ago. They were able to get him out of that fucking “hospital”, and it only took a month and a half for him to stop screaming. For him to realize he was safe again. That was all within the same year. She stopped hearing him scream in her head ten years ago. Why is he back now? He's in Raven's Roost; he's fine!

Magnus screams again, impossibly louder this time, and Lucretia slams her fists down on the counter, tears threatening to spill over and slide down her cheeks. He's safe now! He's safe! He's safe he's safe he's safe–

“Let me out! Let me out of here!”

Lucretia swallows a particularly large lump in her throat and fights to breathe. Her heart feels heavy and like it's being slowly ripped in half. She won't complain about the Silence again. Please. She can deal with the deafening, oppressive silence of being alone. She can deal with anything except this. Please not this again. Please!

Magnus starts sobbing. “Please let me go. Please let go of me. Please.”

Lucretia fully breaks down into tears. Her legs give out from under her, and she falls to her knees. She leans her forehead against the counter as loud sobs shake her entire body. She knows it's her fault. They all told her it wasn't, but it was. It's always her fault. She should have gotten him sooner. She doesn't know how, but she should have found a way. It should have been her. She should have been the one they took, not him! He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any of this.

“I just want you to let me go. Please. Just let me go.”

“I'm sorry,” Lucretia sobs, her voice barely above a whisper because that's the only volume the little air capable of going into her lungs can provide her. “I'm so sorry.” Please, just stop. No one was holding him anymore. No one was even touching him. Please just let it stop.

“Just let me go,” Magnus' voice cracks on the last word.

Lucretia gasps for air and whispers, “I'm sorry.”

#hearing voices tw #screaming tw #referenced self harm #referenced hospitalization #ask to tag #taz #taz balance #taz fanfic #lucretia #taz lucretia #post stolen century #written works of Gab

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