#Tw force feeding
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Down Bad Alpha Best friend
tw-blood mention, general disgusting creepy actions, be warned
Something something Yandere Alpha best friend being just a general creep, stealing your used and dirty underwear to jerk off into and spill their load into, slipping you muscle relaxers so they can just slide between your legs and sniff your underwear as they jerk off by humping the bed/couch, getting off when they see a bit of blood on you and wanting to lick any small wound you have, getting rock solid when they feed you by hand and wanting to see if they can force feed you more-
Just a very creepy and perverted down bad BFF in the Omegaverse
-Mommabean
#mommabean#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere omegaverse#tw blood#tw force feeding#ish#I mean kinda#yandere smut#yandere lemons#kinda#down bad scenarios really
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Mahito would be absolutely horrendous if you had any dietary restrictions.
He'd provide the bear minimum best case scenario, so if he ever found out you couldn't consume something he got you, for whatever reason, the confusion would be brief but it would quickly give way to some of the worst mocking you'd ever experience.
Undoubtedly he'd make you eat it just to see what happens to you.
Do you get sick? Do you have an allergic reaction? If so, how bad?
He won't know until he sees, and you know how he is about his experiments.
#riri writes#Mahito#Mahito x Reader#yandere mahito#JJK#jujutsu kaisen#tw yandere#tw force feeding#tw experimentation
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"Happy Birthday, Коханий"
Yan. Nikolai x Reader
Warnings: Implied kidnapping, some restraints and force feeding
Notes: Can't wait until my birthday- 😍. Need someone like him Fr.
Despite Nikolai's adoration for you, you couldn't help but shake in your binds. Small whimpers leave your mouth as small tears stream down your face. The door open and you hear footsteps behind you, "N-Nikolai?" you call out with a small gasp, "Is that-that you?" you eyes were covered with some thick, black cloth. You sniffled, your heart beating fast as his hands grab your shoulders, "What gave it away?" he asked kissing your forehead.
You chuckled forcefully lightly, "Wha-" you began to ask before he shushed you. Slowly his hands leave your slightly trembling shoulders, you take in a sharp inhale as he undoes the blindfold.
Slowly you open your eyes to see a beautiful cake with a single flickering candle on it. "Happy birthday, Коханий" he cranes his neck to kiss your lips, you don't kiss him back. "Nikolai, this..." your heart still beating quickly, you look back up at him, "this is very lovely." a small smile on your face. "Thank you..." you blow out your candles before opening your mouth to say something else but he hold his up to your mouth, "Open you mouth for me"
You turn to look up at him confused but he holds your head still, "Shhh, trust me." Begrudgingly you obliged. You close your eyes hearing small squishing noises before tasting the sweet frosting, you open your eyes and a chuck of the cake was gone but in his hand, right in your mouth, "That's it, lick my fingers любий" slowly your began licking his fingers with small chunks of cake in your mouth, frosting smudged on your cheeks.
He began humming as your chewed and gulped the pieces he forced into your mouth. Adoring the way your tongue swirled around his gloved fingers in an attempt to lick the frosting off completely. In all honesty you weren't really hungry, but something about saying "No" to Nikolai was... scary. He always ended up doing it anyways, there was no way out. His pinky dipped itself into the cake before placing a small white dot of frosting on your nose and squishing your cheeks together you face him.
"я тебе люблю" your mouth still full of cake he kisses you passionately as you softly kiss him back. It could be worse. Instead of sharing the cake like this and being fed it, he could've just forced you to it off the ground. Like he did on your first birthday with him. Really you should be grateful he's being so caring.
#tw yandere#tw kidnapping#yandere#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader#yandere bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader#yandere nikolai#yandere nikolai gogol#yandere nikolai x reader#tw force feeding#birthday cake
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thinking about how in order to set-up the mouse-trap puzzle showfall needed to either
a) force feed charlie the final piece, or
b) open his stomach, put it in, and then sew him back shut
#genloss#genloss theory#gl!charlie#cw for charlie being a sick fuck as per usual#/pos#genloss spoilers#generation loss#cw surgery#cw force feeding#tw surgery#tw force feeding#krow posts
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Some Things on Whumpee Vs 2 Whumpers
TW: language, abuse, slight torture, trauma, blood, blunt force, forced feeding, drowning, basically almost everything in the book
Whumper 1 is insisting on locking Whumpee in the basement without food. Their knees bruised from their sitting position on the cold concrete floor. Then Whumper 2 forcing food down Whumpee’s mouth when they complain that they’re hungry later
Pushing, shoving and kicking Whumpee into the cold bath tub to clean them. Whumper 2 is drowning them every few minutes as Whumper 1 keeps asking them why they can’t sit still
Whumper 2 using degrading pet names and limiting their mobility with a cage. Then giving Whumpee a collar and expecting them not to speak. Whumper 1 asking them a question a few minutes after but getting angry when they won’t reply because of their previous instructions.
Whumper 1 purposely breaking their bones, bending, twisting and pulling on their limbs to hear them cry. The burning sensation of each snap nearly makes Whumpee pass out and then Whumper 2 fixes it later only for it to happen again
Whumper 2 and 1 blindfolding their eyes so they don’t see the next time they press a blade into their body without warning.
When Whumper 1 and 2 get into an argument about what to do with Whumpee when they seem like they might die
Whumper 2 relishing in the fact that Whumpee can barely recognize their own face in the mirror when they hold it up
^^^ Whumper 1 mocking and disciplining Whumpee for being unable to keep up proper hygiene
Yanking their hair back so they look up at Whumper 1 staring down at them
Demanding that Whumpee forgets about being saved or rescued because it won’t happen
Whumpee waking up dazed and confused when Whumper 1 wakes them up just in time to feel a shooting pain in their right arm before noticing Whumper 2 with a needle, giving them another one to help them fall asleep. Repeatedly waking Whumpee and forcing them to sleep each time.
When both Whumpers are giving Whumpee two different instructions and they get punished for disobeying either one.
Complaining at Whumpee when they vomit, bleed etc… on the floor. Whumper 1 makes them clean it up then Whumper 2 makes it harder for them by pushing away their bucket/mop/moving items
I acknowledge I have a severe problem.
~~~
MASTERLIST
#Whump#Whumpee#Whumper#Whump prompts#whump writing#tw trauma#tw torture#tw drugs#TW force feeding#tw for everything#Whump dialogue#writing prompt#writing#whump things#whump scenario
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Whumper kicks the door shut, their hands full with a bowl of something that smells delicious. Whumpee gathers the courage to look away from their corner. They clutch what remains of their arm - Whumper had cut it off the day before, just below the elbow.
"Hey there, Whumpee. I figured you might be hungry after losing all that blood. I can’t have you dying on me, now can I?"
Whumpee turns their head fully now. Food? That food? For them? Surely not. Surely something is at play here...
...but they are so, so hungry.
"Whassit made from?" Whumpee manages to croak out. They smell it - its scent permeates the room, really. It smells familiar.
Whumper grins and crouches down to properly offer it to Whumpee. "Oh, you know, stuff I had around. I had some extra ingredients on hand."
Whumpee's heart plummets. They know they don't have a choice but to eat.
#whump#whumpee#whump prompt#whump writing#whump ideas#tw cannibalism#tw force feeding#tw captivity#tw kidnapping#tw amputation#tw amputation mention
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Would Aurelius rather force food on their patient of just put in a feeding tube, if they don't eat? I guess he'd try takling first and everything else after that.
tw: small mention of an ed
You’re probably right on the talking first. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help it if you’re so stubborn.
I’d assume if you were just scared to take food from him, because he may have poisoned it, he’d be more harsh. Buuuuut, if we’re going on an ED type of path, he’d be more understanding, but still a bit harsh, since well, he understands, he is a doctor after all. (the ed is not something talked about the rest of this btw)
He’d probably resort to leaving you without food for a bit.
I think that just like in the ask where Anon wanted to know if Aurelius would put the reader in a coma, you’d have to struggle a lot first.
But I also think if you struggled, he’d just put it into a feeding tube instead, not wanting to force you, he wouldn’t admit it, but he doesn’t want you to get eating problems just because he forced you.
tl;dr - he’d rather hook you up to a feeding tube instead of forcing you, but you’d have to struggle a lot for that to happen.
#angst#yandere#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere oc#tw yandere#aenini#yandere x reader#yandere x y/n#yandere male#yandere doctor#tw ed#tw force feeding#yandere lover#yandere imagines#yandere ask#asks#yandere asks#my oc#yandere doctor x reader#🕊 dr. aurelius.#cumtastiics
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i have no idea if this makes any sense considering i dont know much about this AU, but for the family feast AU im just thinking of a casual dinner between William and his father, or so it seems that way except they're eating human meat yknow as the Williams do
i imagine William having sensory issues with the uhh fucken human guts and all the blood and his father tells him to stop being dramatic and eat and William cries bc it feels so bad but he eats anyway. and there's that image of little William weeping miserably with the intestines and blood falling from his lips
it just feels like a good metaphor for autistic kids being forced to choke down things we literally cannot handle. idk if that would be your intention but i think there's potential there :) you don't have to run with it this is just brainrot i had wahhh ok bye
sorry as soon as i read this i knew i had to do it
#tw gore#tw blood#tw force feeding#tw cannibalism#the autism metaphor is a really good idea!#i wasnt going for it but now that you mention it#i can see it omg omgn#dunno if i can add more of this to the rest of the story but its great to think about#the gore was so random i just threw down some messy sketches of organs and pixelated em#i made elder william so fugly here#as he should be#william iii (family feast)#william ii (family feast)
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Can I please get a falling devil x reader who picky eater headcanon?
Falling devil x picky eater reader
AN - Omg ur literally like the only one sending in requests 😞 please send more YALL I’m bored out of my mind.
Disclaimer - tried forced feeding, slight manipulation, mentions of the falling devil using devil meat in ur food, falling devil uses a lil French in this
- First things first when you told the falling devil that you were a picky eater she didn’t really understand, she definitely was confused and when you kept rejecting her meals she eventually got frustrated
- You definitely have to let her know that you don’t like her meals because if you don’t she’ll continue cooking things that you don’t like
- the falling devil tried to force feed you once and it didn’t end well
- The second time you tried telling her you didn’t want any of the food she cooked respectfully she took it the wrong way. “[name] chère you don’t like my meals? Am I doing something wrong?”
- The third time you finally got the courage to tell her why you haven’t been eating her meals. The falling devil and you were able to come to an understanding with that “I understand chère I’ll do my best to make of your liking.” “Good I’m glad you understand.”
- The falling devil tried to manipulate you into eating her food but you weren’t having it
- After that the falling devil started asking you what you wanted to eat instead of her just cooking up random things especially since most of her meals are devil meat
- some days she probably won’t cook you anything because she might see you as someone who isn’t grateful for their food☠️ but she’ll put up with it
- The falling devil loves cooking your favorite meals on special occasions
#earphonejackx#x reader#soft icons#csm x reader#x y/n#chainsaw man#falling devil#headcanon#csm falling devil#falling devil x reader#chainsaw#chainsaw man x reader#tw force feeding#tw manipulation
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I forgot how much I hate eating in front of people, so here's some food related whump prompts/scenarios:
Caretaker wonders why Whumpee refuses food until they catch them in the kitchen at 2am eating the leftovers in front of the fridge.
Whumper withholds food from Whumpee then forces them to eat a huge meal in one sitting.
Whumper makes whumpee eat in a quiet room. If they hear them chew, they punish them. Whumpee now must always have noise when eating.
Whumper makes Whumpee eat a food they are allergic to
Whumpee eats a food they are allergic to on purpose to get away from Whumper
Whumpee gets their hands on a food Whumper is allergic to and tries to get them to eat it unknowingly.
Whumpee distrusts when Caretaker gives them food to eat - thinks it might be poisoned, or spiked.
Whumpee is given a small pet as a reward or for recovery and shares their food rations with it.
Caretaker keeps an eye out for what snacks Whumpee grabs and makes sure they have multiple bags, packages, or bottles so Whumpee never feels like they are grabbing the last one.
Caretaker makes Pedialite popsicles with/for a dehydrated whumpee.
Caretaker teaches Whumpee how to cook
Whumpee with sensory sensitivities is forced to eat the food they hate
Whumper blends food and force feeds Whumpee. Caretaker takes Whumpee out to eat, and they take a bite and realize it tastes exactly the same.
#whump writing#whump community#whump tropes#whump prompts#whump scenarios#tw food#tw force feeding#whump scenario#writeblr#originalfiction
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Everyday Freak of Science: part 5
(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)
Masterlist
As soon as my voice is under my own command again, I speak. "J-Jade, what's going on? W-where are you t-taking me?"
"It has become clear to me that you cannot be trusted with feeding yourself. As such, I will have to ensure you are eating properly- both in quantity and in content."
No. No. Is he really going to resort to that? No. No. No. Please, please no.
He opens a door and shoves me inside. Is this another office? There's a safe, a glass-topped table, two couches on either side of it... where is this?
The clacking of heels, approaching the door. They pause. Jade's voice interrupts the brief moment of silence.
"Pardon me, Azul. The VIP room is in use."
A sigh. "Jade, I've told you not to use the VIP room for lunch alone- be that by yourself or with Floyd."
"It's a rather urgent matter, Azul."
"Alright, fine... ten minutes."
Footsteps, again, leaving.
Okay. I have ten minutes. That's how long I have to survive.
The door opens. Jade enters, holding a plate of various kinds of fish- mullet, obviously, but also wrasse, shrimp, sturgeon, and cuttlefish. Not one hint of green is on that plate.
"Come on, Requiem. Open up." He stabs a piece of cuttlefish with his fork and holds it up to me.
I don't want to. He's just going to force it into my throat- I don't want that.
"Come on." His voice is surprisingly soft and gentle.
"No." In contrast, my voice is firm and wavering; unsure.
He sighs. "You leave me no choice."
I close my eyes for only a second before opening them to see Jade waking over to me, fork in hand, plate in other. He takes a seat next to me and puts the plate onto the table. Then, his free hand is opening my mouth; bracing it to keep me from closing it.
I close my eyes and brace myself for the inevitable force-feeding. Please, higher-ups, don't let this happen.
My mind is on the brink of breaking, I can feel it. Fragments of memories I want to forget tap at the sides of my thoughts, threatening me with reliving them if this keeps going the way it has so many times before.
A piece of cuttlefish is placed gently on my tongue. My recollection sabotages my sense. Shards of my past form into stained glass windows, depicting what I yearn to never see again.
A researcher, dressed in a white lab coat stained with blood, holds a pair of tongs, a piece of cuttlefish clutched tightly in them. Another researcher and another still, white-clad bodies in the corner of my vision, blue latex gloves holding my mouth wide open. I scream. The cuttlefish is forced into my unwilling mouth, down my throat, and, though I try, down it goes. Any human in my position would cry, but I can't. My eyes just don't do that.
I gasp. Where am I? Where are they? What... what room is this?
Slowly, my vision steadies, and the blurriness gives way to a shape. Several shapes. And colors, cool colors. Purple... a couch? There's some teal... a black stripe?
Oh, that's Jade. I can see the whites of his eyes better than I can see his irises. Wait, there's someone else, with off-white hair...
"Azul?"
"I heard screaming," he clarifies. "What's going on?"
"Requiem, are you okay? You just fell to the ground," Jade starts, entirely ignoring a shocked Azul. "You seem calmer now... what happened?"
"I-I was there, back in the lab, they were- please, don't let them-" my voice breaks into a sob. Jade gets onto the ground, one knee on the floor, and holds my upper body against his own. Strong arms hold my weight and I lean into the warmth, desperate to eject that experience from my mind. When I pull away from him, I notice his jacket is darker where my face touched.
I raise a hand to my eyes. They're wet. I'm crying. Jade notices.
"The crying is an effect of the potion. I know, I know, it takes some getting used to."
Azul speaks up again. "What happened? Why is someone crying in my VIP room?"
#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland#disney twst#m!yuu#twst yuu#twst jade#twst azul#tw food#tw force feeding#tw flashbacks#twst#Everyday Freak of Science
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Love this series ❤️ as a request: maybe Marshall going catatonic! Looks like this situation is getting too frightening for him 😔
Tysm!! I hope this is okay, feel free to request again!!
CW: Catatonic state, parental whumper, (kind of) forced feeding, food, slight infantilization
...
It's been three days since Marshall said anything, let alone ate. Lawrence has been watching him for a couple of minutes now, standing outside his door. Marshall didn't turn around or meet his gaze, just continued lying in bed, curled up in a ball.
Gingerly, Lawrence opens the door all the way. He sees Marshall staring blankly at the ceiling. He's not even crying anymore, so he guesses that's a good sign, right? "Marshall?"
Still nothing.
Feeling anxious, he sits down beside the younger and slowly reaches over, holding onto the young man's trembling hand. "Kiddo, you've barely spoke for what, three days now? At least eat for me. I made your favorite!" His attemptingly coaxing words fall onto deaf ears, Marshall not reacting in any way.
Lawrence grows more concerned. "Do you want an apology? If so, I'm sorry. I only hurt you because you need to learn, sweetie. You can't just run off like that."
Jaw tensing, a single tear falls down Marshall's cheek. He wipes it quickly and lays back down in bed, ignoring Lawrence completely.
"You need to eat," Lawrence says more sternly. "I won't let you starve yourself like this any longer. Come on. Up."
Marshall doesn't move an inch. It's hard to tell if he really blocked Lawrence and his voice out, or if he's truly just ignoring him. His eyes have the blankest expression he ever seen from him. Usually they were filled with fear.
For once, he misses that fearful look. At least then, Marshall would eat and talk. Now he just lies there.
Lawrence picks him up. On the bright side, Marshall doesn't flinch or fight him. It's not improvement by any means, but at least that makes carrying him easier.
"Eat," Lawrence insists. He puts a plate of lemon basil shrimp pasta in front of him, which he recalls Marshall loving the last time he made it, more than anything else he cooked. He sits across from him and stares. "Please," he adds, almost desperately.
Marshall doesn't move. Still. He looks down at the food, not saying a word.
"Marshall." Lawrence grabs his hand, which is lying on the table. "Why are you acting like this? Are you still angry at me? Did you hit your head? Tell me something, please. Even if you're angry at me."
Pressing his fingers against the back of Marshall's hand, Lawrence waits for a reply, any kind of reply, but is still met with nothing.
"Okay," he sighs. "You aren't leaving this table until you eat everything on that plate, young man, do you understand me?" Nothing. Lawrence's eyes narrow. "I asked you a question, Marshall."
Marshall blinks, but that's the farthest reaction he's gotten all day.
Lawrence pinches the bridge of his nose and stands. He kneels down, grabs the spoon of food and hovers a hand underneath it in case some falls off. "Alright, open up, Marshy."
When he doesn't react, Lawrence pushes it against his lips and Marshall doesn't argue, he even swallows it. It starts to make Lawrence wonder if he really isn't ignoring him. Sure, he loves actually getting to take care of him, but knowing it's only because Marshall is going into some catatonic state… it makes him sad to know.
"Good boy," Lawrence mutters, patting his head when he eats everything from the spoon. He puts the dishes away in the sink, then looks back at him. He's still staring blankly. It keeps getting more and more worrying.
Lawrence tries to think of a solution, but his mind can't conjure up one. "Just snap out of it, Marshall, please. Whatever you want, I can get you. Do you want a pet? I don't mind getting a dog or cat, or-- or whatever you want! We… we could even take a vacation somewhere! Anywhere you want. Doesn't that sound nice?"
Marshall slowly looks up at him, but still doesn't say anything.
"Please…" Lawrence runs a stressed hand through his hair. He doesn't know how to win this, so he ends up just picking him up and carrying him to the couch. He gets a navy blue blanket from his room, then wraps it around him, pulling him tightly to his side. If Marshall won't react to anything, at least he can do this without the boy tensing or trying to pull away.
For at least ten minutes, the room is silent, Lawrence hoping Marshall will say something. He makes a mental note to call a doctor soon, one that he knows he can trust.
Worriedly, Lawrence kisses Marshall's forehead. "I love you, honey."
Marshall rocks back and forth, the first bit of movement he gave all day without being commanded to do so, but he's still out of it. "I love you," he repeats quietly.
Lawrence wishes he could be excited hearing those words for the first time, but he can tell by Marshall's demeanor that means nothing. He sighs shakily and tries to pretend Marshall meant that. He presses another kiss to his forehead and turns on the TV, turning it to a documentary about constellations and planets. He knows that interests Marshall, even if he doubts Marshall will pay attention to it.
Cradling him in his arms, Lawrence rubs his back gently as he continues looking at the TV.
He doesn't mind it all that much if it means they can end up like this… He can just pretend, even for a moment, that Marshall loves him just as much as he loves him.
#whump#parental whumper#lawrence oc#marshall oc#cold cold eyes#whump writing#tw catatonic state#tw catatonia#tw parental whumper#tw food#tw force feeding
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Perdition 1.9
< ≡ >
The golden woman struggled for breath beneath me, my hands tight around her throat. I glanced up at the wooden door that led to the final resting place of the massive upside down spire.
My mind raged against itself in its indecision. With my left hand, I tightened my grip, while my right loosened, then suddenly rocketed across the gap and ripped my left hand from the demon’s neck. She bucked me off, and I landed painfully on a thick pile of roots.
She shot up, shaking and naked, golden hair matted with my blood. My right hand seized my chin, forcing me to stare up at her.
I watched as she realized she had already won. My vocal cords worked against my own will, tearing my name out from my soul, until I couldn’t do anything but scream it.
“Parker!”
The demon stilled, then smiled.
I swore, tearing my hand off of my chin, finally able to move it myself again. I looked down at the bites and slices in my flesh, gritting my teeth as they bled into the fabric of my cloak. “You bitch!”
“Watch your tongue, Parker.” Her whole face was curled into a toothy smile, her voice wrung ragged, somehow sounding older than she looked.
Compared to the honeysuckle voice that had come from within my mother, this voice sounded like spoiled milk.
“I should’ve killed you, demon.” I growled.
She smiled, four front teeth glimmering goldenly. “I have a name. Use it.”
I looked past her, towards the large wooden door that led to the stalactite’s point. I pointed at it, speaking her name.
“(Solidago.)” The speaking of the word made my tongue feel like a melting icicle. I hadn’t said the exact word, but something deeper, something forbidden.
She chirped happily through her thick set of teeth. “Yes?”
“O-Open that door,” I ordered.
She bowed swiftly, swiping at the small runnels of my blood in the dirt as she did. Skipping, she drew close to the door.
Then, almost reverently she slowed before it, carefully wiping my blood on the doorknob. It stained the bright brown into a deep, angry red.
Drawing her other hand to her teeth, she nipped quickly at her wrist. A thick, golden liquid beaded at the center of the gash, then wept out of the edges.
She collected it, then turned the wrist to her mouth as she spread the golden blood onto the doorknob.
The motion so closely mirrored the one I’d seen Mr. Montgomery make in Noel’s video that I wondered for a moment if they might be the same person.
The golden blood faded quickly, mixing with mine and bubbling into a vapor for a moment before cooling. Something inside the wall shifted loudly, and when she turned the knob, the door opened toward her.
Mist blew out of the darkness and into the forest in guttering waves.
Solidago stared into the misty darkness, grip tightening on the doorknob. Her ears perked up, eyes widening as she stared into the void of light.
Did she expect something to come out of it? I stood, preparing myself to walk into that darkness alone.
Behind me, the crack of a branch announced Bella making her way back to me. Her reins were loose around her neck, bit still between her teeth. She brayed as she saw me, and I turned to pat her. Grabbing her reins, I turned back to the door.
The woman was gone.
I peered into the empty alleys of the surrounding forest, but her golden trail had disappeared. Grimacing at the pain in my forearm, I led Bella to the gap in the wooden wall.
The thick mist cascaded out over us, stinging my eyes with some sort of gritty sand that the wind carried.
I stepped into the darkness carefully, tapping my foot to make sure there was a floor. I felt my boot connect with something soft and shifting.
I put my weight on it, and it held me, although shifting slightly. Fully entering the darkness, I blindly walked forward into the sand, pulling Bella through the doorway.
As soon as we were both on the shifting sand, the door slammed shut, and we were consumed by total darkness.
****
I could feel the mist turning about me, feel it brush past us in gritty gusts of wind as we walked forward into the void. Its strength was the only sign that we were moving at all.
I held Bella’s reins, walking forward blindly with my hand outstretched, hoping against hope for any sign of where I was meant to go.
The sand ate the sound of our footsteps, quickly filling the gaps in the leather of my boots. I made very sure not to turn around, not to even shift in the direction of my course.
In the claustrophobic vastness of the void, I tried to imagine the vastness of this room, the abyss that swallowed us. There was no way it fit into the forest that had sat atop the walled castle city I’d seen from outside.
We’d been walking up the city’s streets to the center of the castle, to the tip of the upside down spire. I’d seen where it must end, just behind the door that led into this room.
It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.
Bella slowed for a moment, and I paused to give her a break, still staring sightlessly into the void, blasted with gusts of stinging sand.
What had that demon been afraid of? Why had she disappeared?
Demon? Can you fucking listen to yourself, for half a second? You’re crazy! You have officially gone insane.
Maybe. But… I could remember everything that led up to this point. There were questions, too many god damn questions, but if this wasn’t real, then what was really going on?
Am I having a seizure back at the police station?
That woman… What was her name? Horne. She’d rung my head pretty badly, then left me to sleep right after.
Isn’t that the one thing you’re not supposed to do after getting a head injury? After I wake up, Isaiah breaks me out. Then, all this crazy shit starts happening.
A wave of nausea came over me, the feeling that I was dying on the cot of a dirty cell rather than walking in a lightless void filling me with unparalleled dread. I honestly couldn't tell which reality I prefered.
I began walking again. Bella brayed in tuneless protest, but followed.
Could I just be imagining all of this?
“Could you not be?”
The voice sounded from within my head, but it felt like it was all around me, a quiet voice bleeding from the mists.
I wasn’t even surprised to hear it. That’s how bad this had gotten. Feeling curious, if a little on edge, I directed a thought at the voice.
Who are you?
It was silent for a moment, then responded with the same, quiet voice. It was the voice of my mind, only I wasn't the one controlling it.
“You,” you said.
I sighed, speeding up as I bit my lip. Speaking without talking, listening without hearing.
The least you can do is not mess with me.
You smiled. “When it is a horse.”
Fuck you. What does that even mean? Fuck you!
“Save your curses, and save your questions for the pool.”
What pool?
Silence.
“What POOL! Are we going swimming!?” I shouted, exasperated. Bella pulled against her reins in shock, my outcry dying in the void as quickly as it had left my lips.
The gritty wind continued to unceremoniously assault my face. I stopped. I’d been walking with my eyes closed. Now, staring forward, I saw light ahead.
“Birthing pool. Groundwater. The last star in a long dead sky.” You feel like crying for the first time in billions of years.
I walked toward the light.
****
The light was high in the sky, seeming to hover above the dunes of the desert.
Slowly, the light allowed shape returned to the landscape. We were walking in coarse, colorless sand, the mist mixing with the thick gusts of wind making it impossible to see even a few feet in front of me.
Bella had her head ducked against the wind, and I used the edge of my cloak to protect my eyes.
Next, color returned. My dark green robe glimmered in the weak sky-light. It never faltered, only growing stronger as we made our way through the relentless gray desert.
Above us, I could still see the rounded edge of the stalactite. Having come this close, I could see that the face of the pale stone was engraved with thin lines. The spire loomed in the sky above the light until it disappeared into the sand filled wind.
It couldn’t be more than a few minutes away. I pressed on, having to wrap Bella’s reins twice around my hand as she whinnied.
The sand chafed painfully against my wounds, catching in my eyelashes and nostrils, only seeming to buffet us stronger as we walked to the source of sky-light.
I tripped, catching myself at the bottom of a dune. Bella nosed at me, then turned away from the wind after I moved.
My foot had caught on something deep in the sand, and I could feel more things like it under my hands and knees. I gripped one, and pulled it out to reveal a dagger.
Or what had once been a dagger. Sand poured off of it in waves, disappearing into the pull of the wind. The blade was dull, and the handle had fallen off ages ago.
It looked like there’d been a carving on it once, but it too had been worn away. The others were much the same, some larger, some smaller, but all metallic blades that seemed to have been here for a long time.
The largest blade I found looked as if it had once been much larger. It was about two inches wide, three feet long, and still had its wooden handle and hilt in place.
It was heavy as hell, and still had its engravings on the side that had been buried deeper in the sand.
They were simple, thin lines that reminded me of a map of the human circulatory system. They were just like those etched into the spire.
Where did these come from? Who had once owned them?
“The pool,” you said.
The voice caught me off guard, but I shook my head staring down at the large sword resting atop the sand.
Do I bring it with me?
“No. She has earned her rest.”
She? You knew the owner of this blade?
“Yes. The Mothervein. I was her, and she will be me.” You stared at the sword, and coulf recall it as it once was. Woodswillow. Will the Mother remember you as such?
I slid the sword back into the sand, covering it carefully before I stood. It shifted slightly as I stepped past it. Bella turned back to me, facing the sandy winds to follow me, paying no attention to the blades hidden in the dunes. Ahead, the light glowed ever stronger.
Cautiously, I walked on the metal remains hiding beneath the thin coat of sand. On the leeward side of a dune, we were protected momentarily from the whipping winds. Staring up at the light, I nearly tripped again on a resting blade.
As we crossed the dunes, the valleys grew deeper, and the peaks higher. In the darkened depths of one misty dune, we stepped noisily across a pile of blades unearthed by the wind.
I watched Bella carefully here, escorting her across the shifting pile of dull, gleaming metal that peaked out of the blanket of mist.
As I stepped out of the valley, I finally saw the stalactite’s end. Its point was hidden inside a tower, made of the same pale stone as the spire itself. Having seen the structure at its full size from outside the castle walls, its end seemed impossibly small.
Looking up, it was the only thing I could see. The taper was gradual, but even a few miles above me, it encompassed the entire sky.
Light spilled out from the top of the crenelated tower, radiating across the nearby dunes and illuminating the mist in the air.
The mist itself poured out from the first floor of the tower, which was built without walls. Bare, pale stone pillars circled a metal platform, holding up the rest of the walled tower.
I sped up the hill towards the tower, towards the point of the spire, trailing Bella behind me.
The mist grew thickest as I rose to the top of the sandy hill. It was cold, but contained no sand. It seemed pure, smelling somehow more fresh and full than ever. I breathed deeply, feeling the cold, pure vapor in my lungs, and finally crested the hill.
Standing in the flickering lamp light of the pale stone tower was my Professor, speaking to a woman I’d never seen before.
I stared in shock at Professor Mecardi, feeling my stomach turn in confusion and disgust.
He was in front of the room’s centerpiece: a stone pool, where the pure white mist poured in heavy waves. A lectern sat in front of him with a large book spread on it.
The circular room was littered with tables full of books and beakers, the outskirts stocked with large wooden racks of weapons and tools. The woman knelt beside the pool, staring up at my Professor respectfully.
Both of them wore swords on their belts. My professor was dressed in robes just like mine.
With my mouth agape, I felt a great pain twinge in the back of my brain, once, twice, left eye twitching in sympathy before I fell on my knees.
I stared up at the two of them, the woman, tall and muscular in her thick leather garb, staring back at me, annoyed. My professor looked on in confused amusement.
I vomited onto the pale floor, and then collapsed.
****
“Hey. Drink up.” A woman’s rough tone.
There was a metal taste on my tongue, and something heavy resting on my teeth, pouring liquid into my mouth. Someone shook me firmly, then patted my shoulder.
The liquid was thick, and instantly coated the inside of my mouth. It was a bitter, acidic bile.
I swallowed quickly, not being able to breathe. My head ached in rhythm with my heart, waves of pain radiating out and down my body. I was shivering, thrust suddenly into consciousness, and wishing I hadn’t been.
I kept my eyes closed, feeling my pulse in the stem of my brain as I swallowed more glugs of the liquid.
“Welcome back.”
She pulled the metal spout out of my mouth, and I finally swallowed all of the bile. I tried to speak, but my mouth felt like it was full of sludge.
“Be quiet. And unclench your jaw.”
I did, not realizing that I had been. I could breathe again, but even that was painful. Although…
The pain was dulling as I lay on the ground. Waves of pain slowly melted into pleasurable bursts of comfort and warmth, like I’d just taken a shot.
Even the pain from the cut and bite Solidago had dealt me had eased. I breathed slowly now, and rested my head against the cold stone.
After a moment's breather, I finally opened my eyes.
The meager lamp light almost blinded me at first. It lit the circular room with its fluttering flame, revealing the woman who’d been standing in front of my professor holding a white and gold spouted jug she had made me drink from.
She was chubby, wearing a large leather jerkin and a large, heavy looking sword on her belt, just above her leggings.
I was on the floor of the tower. This close, the stone felt more like a sheet of thin, cold metal, engraved with spidery lines, all parallel to one another. This close, they looked like a never ending system of veins and nerves.
“Fffnmg,” I groaned wetly.
“Yeah,” she agreed, placing a warm towel over my eyes. She pushed me slowly onto my side, and I felt something wet trickle out of my mouth. I coughed, spitting out a pool of collected blood, phlegm and mysterious bile onto the pale metal floor.
She eased me onto my back again, wiping away the mess, and finally, I saw the spire in its entirety.
The point of the spire was directly above the pool of perfect white mist, hovering a few feet above it. It ended in a sharp, miniscule point, all of the parallel engravings running together to meet at the end of the stalactite.
The tower itself was designed to encompass the very end of the spire, only a few stories tall and hollow, the tapering stalactite fitting directly into the middle of it, and ending just above the pool of ever drifting mist.
Above the tower itself, I could see the glass box that held the sky-light from the desert. It seemed dimmer, now that I was right below it.
“Quite the view.” The woman stood after speaking, lifting a wooden bucket and rag from the metal floor.
“Where am I?” My voice sounded old, cracked, and tired.
“Home,” you said, smiling softly.
“You were almost dead. You’re alive for a little longer, thanks to him.” The woman nodded to my professor, who stood looking over the wooden lectern at the two of us.
She carried the jug and bucket across the circular room, pouring its brackish contents out into the sand beyond. Then, she placed the white and gold jug into the center of the misty pool, just below the point of the stalactite. Turning to my professor, she asked, “It’s settled then?”
My professor turned to her, hands on the wooden lectern like they were when he was presenting in front of a classroom. “Yes, roadmaster. Thank you.”
She turned to go, then looked back. “Do you see me, Alex Mecardi?” She bowed slightly, putting her three center fingers onto her chin, stubby fingernails facing him.
He nodded, bowing slightly with his index and middle finger to his chin. “I see you, Maxine Anderson.”
She put the bucket and rag down against a large round pillar, then stepped off of the metal platform of the tower’s first floor.
And disappeared.
There was no other way to explain what I’d just seen. She should have stepped down off of the pale metal and into the misted sand, but she didn’t. She just stepped through the gap, and then was gone.
As soon as she left, the room shifted. The wooden racks of weapons that had filled the background disappeared with her, leaving a puff of mist as they quickly took another shape.
More bookcases, and more tables littered with chemistry equipment and books took form from the mist, seemingly as solid as the racks they had been moments ago.
I turned to my professor, and stood slowly. Somehow, I managed not to fall down, still shaking as I righted myself.
He was still standing behind his lectern, looking down at the large book laid out on it. He looked up at me as I stood, blinked, then spoke.
“Parker. Are you feeling okay?”
I stared at him, somewhere between amazement and hatred. “No. Absolutely not.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
I spoke quickly, almost interrupting him. “What the hell are you doing down here? What the hell is this place, and why am I here? What do you have to do with all of this?”
He smiled, and it was one I was familiar with. I’d seen it come across his face while he discussed historical essays or particularly cogent philosophical ideas.
It was somewhat guarded, a tiny smirk that showed he was thinking, but still listening. He turned to a table behind him, littered with old leather bound books and flasks.
“One question at a time,” he said slowly.
I slowly rounded the pool of mist, watching his back as he looked down at an open book, adjusting one of the glass vials, which was filled with a clear liquid.
"I deserve as many answers as I want. The last few hours have been hell, and at the end of it, I find you." He turned from his equipment to me, and I jabbed a finger at him.
“I know, Parker.” His smile had been replaced with a grave, serious expression. “I have to explain this to you carefully, and quickly. You’re in danger, and we’ve-.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I’ve put you there.”
“Sure,” I said, speaking animatedly, “Let’s start there. What the hell are you doing with these people? Maxine, Isaiah, Stash. What did you all do to me, and why?”
“We poisoned you.” He didn’t seem the smallest bit ashamed, standing there, perfectly still. “With thallium.”
“Wait, what? Why?”
“Your employer,” he said seriously. “Mr. Montgomery.”
His face flashed in my mind. I saw him at the front door, welcoming me into his home, showing me his study, the false memories, the knife he had handed me, and his daughter holding his rifle, meaning to fire it into my chest.
“I see you already have an idea of his capabilities. Memories falling into place, replacing old constructions? That would be the ichor.” He said it all so matter-of-factly, I could barely stop to think.
Ichor. Blood of the Gods?
“Goddess.”
“Blood of the Goddess?” I asked, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.
He was taken aback. “It must be further along than I thought. Perhaps the dosage… No matter, the amount of thallium in the mixture should’ve killed you on the spot. We gave you the ichor to slow the-”
“Hold on, you’re who kidnapped Mr. Montgomery?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “You were instrumental in our plan, and I do apologize that we used you.”
“Don't--Don't even go there. Not unless you mean it.” I took a breath, and looked around the bizarre circular room, then blew it out slowly. “There's no going back from this, is there? My life will never be normal again.”
“Parker. All we need you to do is cast a vote. After that, we can help you, and make you forget all of this. I give you my word.” He bowed his head, placing a hand to his chest.
“Aw, thanks, teach. Now tell me, can you make an FBI agent forget about the pizza delivery boy who broke me out of prison? How about the fifteen cops that saw me get arrested? How about my family, who probably think I'm a criminal on the run now?”
For the first time in my life, I saw real shock on Professor Mecardi's face. Then, he closed his eyes and pinched his nose, raising his eyebrows in as much annoyance as shock.
“Yeah," I said. “Didn't think so.”
He paused, tapping a finger against his pursed lips. “We can't do that,” he said slowly, “but we can fix this. We know this is our fault, and we're ready to-”
“Okay, sure, just-. Why did you have to pick me?” I stammered, putting my own hand to my chest. “Why poison me?”
He paused, breathing deeply, then exhaled through his nose slowly. Then, almost a whisper: “Do you remember your final essay?”
“What does this have to do with a stupid essay competition? I can’t even believe I’m looking at the same person I turned that essay into.”
“You are, Parker. I’ll explain it all, just, let me, yes?” He was pleading with me.
“Fine.” I nodded, crossing my arms.
“Okay. Your history covers the nature of Old Hill. How the town has gone through several booms and busts. And, your theory was…?”
He smiled expectantly, and I couldn’t keep it from disgusting me. The worst part was that it felt normal. This is how we would talk in class, and here we were, beneath a metal stalactite larger than God, buried underneath a mountain.
I sighed. “My theory was that Old Hill is heading for another boom. In the past, it was coal, gold, arsenic, tungsten, and now it’s real estate, via the gentrification of Old Hill’s mainstreet and available high end cabin locations.” I was essentially quoting my essay’s thesis back at him, and he was eating it up.
He smiled, and nodded. “Yes, well, you're more right than you know. There were people behind these booms and busts, yes? These people got rich here, then left to change the world?” He quirked his eyebrow, waiting for me to agree.
I nodded, feeling my anger boil underneath the surface. “That’s the American dream. Make it big and escape the nowhere town, change the world, and get rich doing it.”
“Yes. Sure. But can that happen to anyone?” He smirked, waiting for my retort.
“Sure. Niel Armstrong was a kid from Ohio, and he ended up on the Moon. Every small town has its heroes.” I played dumb, hoping it would help him get to his point.
“Yes. But Old Hill has more than most. Cycles of vast riches, then great poverty.”
“...And?”
“First it's gold, coal, wood, then arsenic, then tungsten, now real estate. They all profit off the labor and the land of those beneath them, but when the land's bled dry?” He motioned as he spoke, posing his final question dramatically.
I paused. “I… Nothing, if work dries up, the workers will leave.”
“Not these workers,” he tutted in a sing song voice, looking half mad. “Sure, some will leave, but Old Hill? These people, their history… These people will stick to their legacy. They'll suck these people dry, Parker.”
“How?”
“They already have, have been for a while. Think about it. They've chained the people to the mountain, and it’s given Old Hill all that it can. Now that all we’ve got is empty hills, they've gone looking to profit off the land. And when that drys up, all that's left is-”
“What are you saying? What does this have to do with Kyle Montgomery?”
“Everything. He owns those real estate companies, he’s been building those condos. He’s poisoning the town, and profiting off of it.” He put his fist down on his lectern, then stepped out from behind it, walking slowly closer to me as I spoke.
“So you kidnap him? You poison me? To what end?” I slowly backed up as he approached, and he put his hands out, as if not to spook a horse.
“He is a vampire, Parker. He drank from you. He drank from the whole city. It was the only way to stop him.”
He stopped, putting his hands together as if in prayer. “Please, just think about it. All of the ichor inside you has to help you realize that he’s been pulling the wool over your eyes. He’s been feeding on you, ever since you stepped foot into his house. You were the only way to get to him.”
I had backed up into a pillar of the tower. I felt the cool metal line my spine, then closed my eyes to think.
Without even trying hard to remember, I found more dual memories, melting as simply as a child's lie in the light of the sun. Over and over, I remembered him knocking on my door before bed, looking me in the eyes, and telling me to let him in.
Then, I would do it. He would hand me the same knife as before, and I would slice into my wrist, letting him drink from the thick red blood that welled there. It hurt, but I wanted to help him. It felt good. Then, after he had drank from me, he would put his wrist against my mouth, his own lips red like wine-
I grimaced in disgust at the memories, forcing them out of my mind with sheer will.
“I hate this,” I said, fury making my voice shake. “I wanted no fucking part in any of this.”
He stepped forward again, shaking his head slowly. “As much as I wish it wasn’t the case, Parker, he was using you. He would’ve killed you, within time.”
“Maybe that’s better than-.” I stopped, tears welling at my eyes as I looked around the room. I groaned, just wanting to scream. “All of this. All of this fucking sucks.”
“I agree,” he said softly. “We needed to do something to help you.”
“So you poisoned me? And then erased my memory of it?” My voice was rising in pitch now, my chest tight.
“Nothing that nefarious,” he said, “Just in your water. I had to do it, to save you, Parker.”
“I wish you hadn’t,” I spat. “For once, I had something approaching normalcy. What did you do with him, anyway? Is he dead?”
“No,” he shook his head, jaw firm. “I voted against killing him.”
“So, just keep him alive indefinitely? I mean, what’s the plan here?” My voice was frayed, on the edge of delirium, a moment away from breaking into disturbed laughter. “Where is he?”
My professor took a breath, and straightened his back. “He’s here. I had him bound.”
“Oh, ‘cause he’s such a threat?”
He nodded gravely. “He is. You’ve only seen a fraction of what he can do.”
“Show me. Prove to me that he’s a-.” I paused, shaking my head. “A vampire.”
He nodded, serious as ever as he turned and crossed the room, leading me to a heavy looking wooden crate. He put his arms and hip against the crate, pushing it off of a raised circle in the pale metal, a handle poking out of the floor.
He bent, grabbed the handle, and raised the trap door. It was pitch black inside, mist spilling tendrils down into the darkness. My professor grabbed the lantern from a table, shining oily firelight down into the pit.
Inside, was Kyle Montgomery. He stared up at us, ten feet down, blinking at the light that gleamed off of the blood slick chains that bound him.
He was in a ruined suit, his short blond hair slick with sweat, blood and worse. The walls of the pit were too tight for him to stand, so he crouched in a pool of brackish water.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing resembling speech came out. Trying again, he managed, “Water.”
“Jesus Christ,” I whispered hoarsely.
“Spare your sympathy,” he said, and spit down the pit at Kyle, who flinched as the spittle landed on his cheek. “It’s a monster.” I glanced down at the sword on Professor Mecardi’s belt.
“Parker?” The man’s ruined voice called up to me. “Help me. You need-” He broke into a coughing fit, then adjusted himself, the chains clinking against each other like airless windchimes. “Don’t listen to him. Just, please. Help me.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, turning to Mecardi, stomach churning at the sight, let alone the smell that wafted up from the pit. “Why are you doing this to him? What did he do to deserve this?”
Slowly, he closed the trap door. Kyle’s whispered cries grew to a crescendo as the door slammed shut, silencing him. My professor looked at me, stepping close as he spoke.
“When I open this, I need you to focus on the words he’s saying. Really focus. Close your eyes and listen, and once you hear it for what it truly is, open your eyes. You will see your proof.”
I lowered my eyebrows, staring back at the professor. I nodded, but held up a finger. “Is this what the vote is on? To kill or keep this man alive?”
Mecardi nodded back, saying, “Yes. He may be a valuable asset alive, as much as he deserves death.”
“No. If the vote falls on not killing him, he’s set free. Nobody deserves this." I paused, then added, "No thing."
He bit his lip, then nodded. “The others draw near. We will vote on it when the time comes.”
Then, checking I was ready, he nodded one last time. He raised the trap door once more.
I closed my eyes, listening to the cries of a helpless man. “Water,” he said again, then apparently seeing me again, he cleared his throat. “Parker. I need you to get me out of here, Parker.”
Thinking of his lips on my wrist, mine on his, sucking blood out of free flowing veins, I screwed my eyes shut further, willing the ichor inside me to spread.
“See true, hear true, my host…” You croon in pleasure, stretching unused muscles for the first time in untold eons.
The voice of Kyle Montgomery slowly melted from a raspy, tired man, to that of a wounded animal. He screamed. It was a full, blood curdling cry of a creature, something non-human beating at the inside of its cage, hurt, scared, hungry and furious.
“Do you hear it?” My professor asked, voice mellow over the vicious screams. After I nodded, he said, “Open your eyes. Look upon its true form.”
Blood slick chains writhed in tortured tension, keeping the beast pinned to the bottom of the pit. It was still Kyle Montgomery, clothed in his expensive suit and tie, but the way his body moved…
It was impossible. He wasn’t human. His body bent at fatal angles, faster than I could properly see. He was a blur of arms and legs, screaming with no language or goal behind it, just pure anguish.
Not once did the chains slacken, they were always pulled tight around his form. At his belt, there was a sword. I could make it out in the fleeting moments between his crazed writhing.
It was a thin, needlelike saber. His screams never took the shape of communication in my mind, continuing as a never ending stream of pain and fear.
“Close it,” I whispered.
Mecardi did, watching me carefully. The screams were finally silenced.
I crouched silently, thick cloak gently billowing in the mist on the floor. I shook my head, then stood.
He did too, placing a foot over the trap door and staring at me like I might injure myself. After I had spent a full minute staring at the metal plate, he spoke quietly. “Are you okay?”
I moved my eyes to meet his, then laughed genuinely, heartily, until I ran out of breath. Heaving fresh lungfuls of the sour smelling air, I had to make an effort to stop laughing as I stepped back.
“What’s so funny?”
The young boy's voice took me a moment to recognize, and I realized it belonged to Isaiah a second before I turned to see him entering the mist coated tower.
He was smiling, poncho fluttering in the misty wind as he rounded the pool in the center of the room, stopping to do a hanging spin from one of the circular pillars holding the tower up.
Stash blinked into existence behind him, stepping into the tower from nothing. The folds in her draping red dress held no dusting of gray sand. She frowned, surveying the scene warrily from the back of the room, hands on her hips.
Cheerily, Isaiah turned to her. “Hi-low,” he drawled.
"Hinny-minny," Stash echoed.
After a moment, the woman who had given me the ‘ichor’ appeared to Stash’s left, stopping for a moment to pat Bella's mane and give her a treat.
She stood, contemplative as she took in the others. She looked as if she was waiting for something.
All three of them had swords on their belts.
Stash nodded to the taller, larger woman. “Max.”
She just grunted, then turned to the professor and I, expectantly. Then, the room shifted again.
Just as it had when Max disappeared, the room's decor puffed into mist before slowly regathering into different furniture. The racks of weapons had been replaced, and now joined sets of armor.
Where the room had been disarrayed, it was now perfectly in order, books slid back into their place on bookshelves, tables lined themselves up in a perfect circle around the pool, even the lectern puffed into mist momentarily to shift itself slightly to fit in front of the largest of the wooden tables.
This table was round, while all the others were curved rectangles. It held a large map of Old Hill, with pins keeping it from fluttering off of the tabletop.
Little figures were arrayed on the map, varying in size, shape, and color. On the western edge of the map, the mountain range sat like a massive natural wall. The map was one I recognized, I had seen it in the historical society's museum, not too long ago.
“I love it when that happens,” Isaiah said, jumping onto one of the benches of the outer tables just to vault the table itself. He landed with turned down untied boots up on the metal edge of the pool of mist, leaning back on the table behind him. “We ready to do this?” He grinned up at me, smiling like it was his last.
Max grumbled, then stepped forward into the center of the tables, standing opposite Isaiah. “There was no vote called for your actions tonight. You were reckless, and endangered all of us.” She stood with her arms crossed over her leather jerkin, staring down at Isaiah with a scowl.
“If I didn’t save him, they would’ve killed him,” Isaiah said, shrugging as he looked up at her. “Either that or the poison. The fed they stuck him with already gave him a concussion, then let him sleep. I played hockey, man. That shit kills people.”
I touched my forehead, feeling the dull ache through the softer waves of pleasure the ichor provided. Mecardi sighed, stepping up to the lectern, looking down and across the small gathering.
Stash joined the other two in the center circle, sitting with her back straight on the bench next to Isaiah’s. Her long braid rested perfectly on her back, and had been threaded with a long red ribbon.
Without thinking, she had adjusted her scabbard to fit in the gap between bench and table. The other two had as well, I realized.
“Please, gentlemen. We must vote on the matter at hand, not bicker at how we got here.” Mecardi frowned, looking at Isaiah, who still was locked in a glaring contest with Max. “I did not approve of Isaiah’s actions. He acted rashly.”
Stash leaned toward Isaiah. “I told you so,” she stage-whispered. Isaiah finally broke the stare, looking up at me with a sly ‘well, what-are-you-gonna-do?’ look.
“However,” Mecardi said, pausing to let them refocus. “Parker is now safe, which is only right, as he was fundamental to our plan.” He turned back, looking at me expectantly. I shifted awkwardly, until he spoke. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the last remaining bench sitting before the mist filled well.
I rounded the room, staring out at the lit dunes of sand beyond the tower, thinking of the swords that lay hidden beneath them. Then, carefully slipping between the tables, I sat in between Stash and Max, staring up at my professor.
“Now. I call the council to order,“ he intoned. Isaiah’s back straightened, getting up off the edge of the table as he stared into the mist coming out of the large pool. “Parker has asked for a vote. He says a vote in favor of letting the Montgomery beast live should be a vote for setting him free. We shall vote for this first.”
Max looked at me, face unreadable. The others remained silent.
Mecardi cleared his throat, then looked at all of us in turn as he spoke. “All in favor of setting the beast free, raise your hand. All in favor of keeping the beast in the oubliette, stay your hands.”
I hesitated, but raised my hand. I was only joined by Isaiah. My heart sank, but then roiled with a thin slick of anger.
“Horseshit,” Isaiah said, mirroring my emotions. “Why the hell would we keep him? Man’s got a wife and child.”
Max smirked at him, voting hand firmly below her waist. “Of course he does. It makes him less evil. Those things will take any opportunity to seem like one of us.”
“But they are not,” my professor said, grimacing. “The only good it serves the world is dead, or helping us study the ichor more closely.”
“So you admit it!” Isaiah stood up, slamming a fist against Mecardi’s lectern. “All you want to do is keep him and experiment on him. That’s fucked.”
“Sit down,” Max said, standing and towering over the boy.
“Admission implies guilt,” Mecardi said, steadying himself on the wooden lectern above us. “Anything I do to that thing has no moral weight on my soul, for it is a beast of destruction and death. You know this well, Isaiah. You apprehended the beast, and still bear the scars-”
“Shut up,” I said, “Just stop talking. Isaiah has done the exact same thing that the man you have in the pit did to me. He didn’t drink from me, but he acts the same as Kyle Montgomery. Tell me the difference.”
Isaiah turned to me, affronted. “I am not a monster. He was set to kill you, and has killed many times before. I saved you. Do not compare me with that man,” he said, voice cracking with emotion.
“Quiet,” Mecardi spoke loudly, and Isaiah and Max returned to silence, then sat. “Now. We vote on the beast’s death.”
I breathed in deeply, feeling the ichor ache happily inside me. I’ve used that same power on Solidago. Am I any better than Isaiah? Than Montgomery? I had turned to it before for my decisions, and it made me fear how long it had been inside me.
If this shit had been here for months, had it been steering the course of my life? Will this choice be taken from me as well?
“All in favor of killing the beast, raise your hand. Those in favor of keeping it alive, stay your hand.”
Max raised her hand. Isaiah raised his hand.
Stash and Professor Mecardi didn’t move.
The decision was left to me.
What do you do?
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#Tw blood#tw nudity#tw suffocation#tw self harm#tw vomit#tw unsanitary#tw force feeding#tw head trauma#tw gaslighting#tw coercion#tw death#tw torture#tw binding#perdition 1.9#perdition#adventure prep#interactive game#interactive writing#interactive fiction#interactive novel#choose your own adventure#cyoa#7k words
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force *clap* feed *clap* whumpee *clap* rose *clap* thorns. this is a psa
#whump#force-feeding whump#tw violence#tw force feeding#just dont feed them too many or they will die
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What happened the first time someone tried to rescue Greg from the Statehouse Colony? How did he react to finally seeing another person?
TW: graphic death, panic attack, force feeding
(This is gonna be a long post, and a very dark one too. Actually tell me if I need to tag anything else. If you still wanna read it, buckle up.)
Ever since Greg found out that he was essentially being held captive by fifty one dangerous monsters, he’d been thinking about various escape plans while doing his best to survive. However, none of what he came up with was feasible. He was never left unsupervised, there would always be at least one “state” that would be watching him, especially during those rare occasions where Greg would venture farther than his wooden pallet bed. Adding on the problem that they could teleport anywhere, there was no place Greg knew of where he’d completely escape them, nor did he want to deal with the possibility that he’d anger them by doing so. He actually felt the safest when he was doing his job as the sound guy during their “shows.” During those times, not only did Greg know he was being useful, the Statehouse would also be preoccupied with something pretty harmless. As such, he had a rare sense of certainty that he was safe while working.
However, then came a moment Greg hadn’t experienced before. After the day’s recording session (he could really only rely on those to tell time anymore), they had seemingly left Greg all alone on his bed. He considered using the moment to run away, but then Greg realized that he had no idea how to properly survive this place on his own. Getting resources and fighting off monsters, that was all done by the “states.” He wouldn’t last a day on his own. So even though the opportunity was right there, Greg decided to stay on his bed, watchful for any monster that might show up while he was vulnerable.
He immediately became alert at the sound of footsteps, and he was almost tempted to call one of the “states” just in case. However, a sight he thought might be impossible, another person had come out from the hallway. Greg hadn’t seen another person in so long that he actually got a little spooked from seeing a stranger who actually looked completely human, like that was the unusual. They had been surprised to see him too, asking a bunch of questions that Greg answered in a daze. His mind was still reeling, the thought of having a savior just show up at this perfect time almost felt contrived, but he wasn’t going to argue. He let the person take a bunch of Almond Waters from his crate before they led him away.
As they were walking, his rescuer was talking, but Greg wasn’t fully listening. Something about getting to an almond town, he didn’t understand any of it. They were speaking into a walkie-talkie, presumably to another human being, but they used so many terms he’d never heard before that it was all a blur to his ears. Greg was still coming to grips with the fact that another human being besides himself existed in this place and it wasn’t some kind of personal hell just for him. But maybe it still was, he wasn’t completely sure.
He didn’t feel as excited as he thought he’d be with getting rescued, as Greg was still considering if this was his imagination trying to comfort him or even a vivid hallucination. It felt like a surreal dream being led away by another human with the promise of a place that was truly safe.
It was when the two of them reached a hallway where a big red star was painted on the wall. Greg suddenly felt a cold chill run down his spine with the creeping realization that he was being watched.
“Where are you going?”
Snapping to turn around, “Alaska” was right behind them. And he was clearly unhappy. A million thoughts about why and how ran through his brain before he realized. “Alaska” had been with them the whole time, including when Greg thought he was alone. Like with the “shows,” it was just that Greg and his rescuer never even noticed he was there.
(TW content under)
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It all suddenly dawned on Greg that this was all real, very real. What happened wasn’t a rare occurence, he had never been alone, it had been a frustratingly normal day. The monster in front of him was just more patient, that’s all it was. The two of them were in so much danger in that moment, Greg had to do something, anything, to try and save this kind person.
“A-Alaska, wait–”
A monstrous arm shot past Greg’s head, and all he could hear was a short yelp, a slam, and a loud squelching sound. He didn’t want to believe it, even as he saw “Alaska”’s bloodied arm retracting back to normal. His body felt like it was frozen, he couldn’t will himself to move besides the shaking that wracked his entire form. He knew what was behind him, but he didn’t want to look, he knew what it was, but he couldn’t.
“Don’t worry, Greg. Look. I got rid of it.”
And then “Alaska” turned him around to see.
“You’re safe now.”
Greg used to have a comfortable life before the Backrooms. Raised by his mom and dad in a nice middle class neighborhood, he had a fairly nice upbringing. He attended good schools, got into a good college to pursue his film passions, and kept in touch with a couple good friends. Death wasn’t something he had to deal with often in his life. Even if he did, it was solemn, quiet, and dignified. It was never anything like this.
His rescuer didn’t even look human anymore. They just looked like...meat. Meat haphazardly splattered on the ground.
It really felt like all of this was his fault. Maybe if he was able to convince “Alaska” not to do it. Maybe if he hadn’t been so dumbfounded at seeing another person and actually warned them. Maybe if he wasn’t such a coward and found escape on his own, they might still be alive. That person was surviving, they had a life, and Greg took it away because he couldn’t save himself. He was sorry. So, so, so sorry. That innocent person was just trying to help, and now they were dead, and it was all his fault.
Those were some of the things his mouth was trying to ramble out through delirious screams and tears. Kicking and screaming as “Alaska” threw Greg over his shoulder to teleport back and be set down in his bed. Curled up tight and sobbing incoherently, any bystander watching would’ve believed he lost his mind. However, Greg couldn’t really be a good sound guy if he went insane. And so to fix that, the Statehouse restrained Greg and force fed him Almond Water* to make sure he stayed sane. The mental strain from the fast and forced change in emotional state was too much for his mind to bear and Greg ended up blacking out. After checking to make sure he was still alive, they deemed it mission accomplished. Their sound guy was safe and back at home.
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*Almond Water is able to treat ailments and restore sanity (you can turn into an entity after going insane). However, as “restoring sanity” is vague, I’m gonna have Almond Water be able to quickly and temporarily alter the drinker’s brain chemistry in order to numb the drinker’s emotions. It’d allow for them to be able to think more logically and make fewer rash decisions. It’d also make someone feel less fear, anger, or panic to ensure they’d be able to react properly to entities. As for why almond water, it’s a real product but just feels kinda weird I guess.
#replies!#welcome to the table#welcome to the statehouse#ben brainard#wttt#wttsh#greg the sound guy#backrooms!au#my writing#tw death#tw panic attack#tw force feeding#sooo much edge and angst
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MAY 4TH “SHOULDERS BACK, EYES ON ME”
Movie marathon | Choking | Forced feeding || @themerrywhumpofmay
(TCW: choking, gagging, brief mention of plausible vomiting (doesn’t happen), restrained, forced feeding (aphrodisiacs), implied future noncon, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, implied chemist whumper)
"Shoulders back, eyes on me," Whumper instructed, Whumpee unable to move from their bound position on the chair they'd been tied to.
Whumpee was wide eyed, feeling the tension on their jaw from Whumper's prying fingers. They watched their face turn angry, gritting their teeth with disdain for an ignored command.
"You might as well open your mouth, you're taking this pill either way." Whumper ordered, fingers digging into the softs of their cheeks to try to force their teeth apart.
Their other hand held a large, mint green tablet that Whumpee had stared at just out of their sight. It was presented and Whumper scraped the tablet across their closed lips.
"I promise, it'll make you feel good and you'll have a lot less to worry about.." Whumper tried to assure and Whumpee turned away when their jaw was freed, only to have a hand wrapped around their throat.
"If I squeeze just a little more, you'll open up like a trash can.." Whumper muttered and clamped around their neck, tightening until Whumpee turned red in their cheeks. Fingers left indents on their skin and it whitened around the intensity; Whumpee’s limbs starting to wiggle in their binds.
In the end, it was as Whumper said it would be, they couldn’t help but open their mouth in a weak, brainless attempt to get air that was being held out of them.
“There you go, now we just gotta get this nice and deep,” They mused, taking the tablet between two fingers and shoving them fearlessly into the curve of their throat. They pushed until they felt a contraction around their fingers of a gag and pressed down on the hand choking them, just a bit harder in case they tried to vomit.
A hand clamped around their mouth before they released the hand on their airway and Whumpee came alive with coughing, gagging sputters. They’d swallowed though, the first thing they’d regretfully done, had been to swallow the medicine deeper down into their system; unknowing what misery it held for them.
“There you go, that wasn’t so bad.. Or maybe it wouldn’t have been if you didn’t always have to fight me.”
Whumpee hacked for a long while, wheezed as saliva dribbled down their face and tears expelled from their eyes from the pressure and force. They’d been so adamant but it was all for nothing, as it usually was. No matter what they did, they never managed to fight Whumper off and was never given much of a chance to do so in the first place.
“But that’s what I like about you, is you’re still stupid enough to fight. Which makes me get pretty creative in just how to tame that, because I have no interest in fully breaking you.” Whumper mused, a hand brushing their bangs back as they snapped attention towards them and let hatred fuel the embers in their eyes.
“I don’t want you to lose that fire, but I need you to know who’s in charge. And who it’s in your best interest to listen to.” Fingers traced lightly, skimmed down the edge of their face, their neck and trailed a bare collarbone. So lithe, underfed against skin but still soft. They’d weakened Whumpee pleny but still hadn’t managed to touch their inner disdain.
“Consider this the second phase of your training, love. To become my perfect little plaything, guard dog, companion.. You’ll be my everything when I’m done and you’ll love every moment of it.”
Whumper knew the exact moment it hit their stomach and boiled deep in their current state of nausea. They’d greened slightly at the hollows and he watched them fight back a gag. To the point Whumper offered a few sips of a bottled water to avoid the mess.
“W-What did you give to me..” Whumpee asked weakly, feeling a slow, sluggish feeling start to creep in ever so faintly. Their vision wanted to wobble if they moved too fast but time felt as though it was on stand-by.
“We’re about to find out, I made it special just for you. I don’t always have to follow a recipe, that’s why I’m good at what I do.” Whumper purred, watching wakes of goosebumps rise wherever they touched now.
“If it does what I want it to.. it won’t take me long to program your body to associate everything I do, with some kind of pleasure.” They gave a soft chuckle, when skimming Whumpee’s sides earned a flinch; despite the rope that kept their stomach flattened to the back of their chair.
“W-Why are you doing this to me-” Whumpee choked out a sob, when their vision started to drift and duplicate, body feeling as though it’d been filled with cement.
“Because, Whumpee, I wanted a pretty pet and you’re just too pretty to have freedom.” Whumper tilted their head that kept drooping down and ran a thumb over their lips.
“Don’t worry, once it sets in, the bad feelings will go away.. this is just how it has to start.” Whumper seemed almost comforting, stroking so gently down Whumpee’s face as it had scrunched with emotion and fear.
“It all feels b-bad..” Whumpee lied, unable to take their focus off the fingers that thoughtlessly trailed down their skin. It changed patterns so often, dared to run across nipples that hardened under the first brush.
“I promise, it’ll feel good soon.. And I’ll help speed it up in the meantime.”
#whump#whump community#whumpblr#whump prompt#whump prompts#whump trope#whump ideas#the merry whump of may#shoulders back eyes on me#tw choking#tw force feeding#tw forced drug use#tw whump#tw intimate whumper#tw restrained#tw implied future noncon#tw implied abuse
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