#cw: bodily injury
Text
chapter eleven: JUST wouldn't STAY DOWN
Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.
CW: supernatural themes, mentions of vehicular accident, mentions of motorcycle accident, religious sacrifice, ptsd, large canines, bodily injury, body horror, graphic violence, religious trauma, blood, witchcraft
Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.
A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know.
I tried to relax the best way I knew how: playing with the cats. When that didn't work, I tried staying still on my bed, but the scent of Nick was still ingrained in my sheets.
“Lyds, why am I so useless?” I asked, less to the calico and more to myself.
My only response was the sound of cat paws hitting the wooden floor. Great, even they were abandoning me. I sat up, watching Lydia move towards the dresser that was still pulled away from the wall. The lock box still discarded near it—
But not empty.
I scooted off the bed and picked it up. In his haste to take out whatever had been it, Noah didn't scoop out some papers that had stuck to the bottom.
It looked like notes, like mine, but attached to it was a page from a book, or maybe a handbook:
"Beyond the conceptual or abstract, it is an existence born of darkness and light, manifesting in every corner of our world. This Divine Power cannot be wielded or controlled by humankind, but merely channeled through distinct means. The greatest way to channel Divine Power is to become a Vessel for the Truth.
To become a proper Vessel, one must be completely open to receive the Truth. To be open, one must be empty: all unnecessary thoughts and emotions must be cast aside in a process called Hollowing. Hollowing occurs at the end of one's journey to seek Truth.
Once the Hollowing is complete and one has become an Empty Vessel the Truth may then fill that void using the Ritual of Cleromancy. Those filled with the Truth are fully enlightened, a receptacle of knowledge and Divine Power. Imbuement is the greatest privilege for those who seek the Truth, as all who journey strive to reach this peak."
And then on the paper, written in a small, clipped handwriting:
"RITUAL OF CLEROMANCY = STAB SOMEONE IN THE GUT"
God, even back then Noah was a blunt bastard.
I shook the lockbox, thinking something else might've gotten stuck, and I was rewarded with something metallic and small dropping out of the box. It bounced, and Jerry scrambled to chase it, batting at it with his paws. I quickly retrieved it before he would try and chew on it.
It was a small ear spacer, almost the size of a stud. It had to be Nick's, from when he started to stretch his lobes.
That's when I heard noises from the other side of the house “Taylor?” I heard Folio call.
“Coming!” I scrambled up and out of my room. I ran to my living room where—
"What the fuckin' hell?” I shouted.
Folio’s hands and mouth were coated in blood, but Noah was almost drenched head to toe in it. He had shed his shirt and jacket, and this close I could make out the pattern of symbols tattooed from his collarbones to his hips. And despite his human appearance, the branch-like antlers were present.
“Like what you see?" Noah asked after popping his jaw, a sound like several twigs snapping accompanying the motion.
I was too grossed out to be angry at his comment. “What the fuck did you guys do to him?”
“Interrogated,” Folio said, grinning. God, his fangs were dripping blood still.
"When you said bloody, I didn't think this much—“
“There's a lot of blood in a human body,” Noah said, wiping his bloody mouth with the back of his hand, which didn't do much since that was covered in blood as well.
I swallowed. Surprisingly I didn't feel like throwing up. “Did you at least get something out of the guy?”
“Well, we definitely got his intes—“
Noah smacked Folio upside the head, earning a small growl. “No location, but Jolly's working on that. But we got the reason behind all this.”
“Between all the screaming," Folio added.
“They’re going to try and resurrect the old Watcher, so they can go back to the old ways. And since it’s not one of the Days of Power, they’re using a practitioner for the Ritual,” Noah said. “They were going to use Granny, but they took Nick when he showed up unexpectedly.”
My vision started spinning. The Ritual. “Cleromancy,” I muttered.
“How did you—“
“You left some stuff behind,” I said. My legs felt too heavy to move, so I couldn’t get the handbook page. “We have to find him. I can’t…”
I couldn’t lose Nick. Not after I’ve lost so much already.
“Is there a way we could speed up the locating process? Jolly only has maybe eight hours, and has fifty miles to cover,” Folio said.
“If you know another way, I’m all ears dude.”
My eyes fell on my coffee table while they conversed. Amongst the papers we had abandoned last night, the little red string stood out like a fresh wound.
"What if we get separated?"
"This helps with that as well. Unless you'd rather I hold your hand the entire way?"
I don’t know why I threaded the string through the ear spacer, nor why I tied the string around my wrist. I wasn’t a practitioner, nor a witch. Was it a good luck charm? A pathetic excuse to connect to Nick? It wasn’t even that great of a job, since I did it one-handed.
Except I felt a spark of… something.
It started as a warmth in my chest and head, where my near-healed head wound was. It moved to my hand, where the metal spacer heated up and felt like it would sear my skin. I hissed in surprise and pain, pulling the spacer away, but there was no mark on my skin.
“The fuck are you doing over there?”
I turned around at Noah’s voice. He looked annoyed but curious at what I was doing. When I turned though, the metal cooled down. I turned back, and the metal heated up again.
“I think I just unintentionally casted a location spell.”
“So when did you learn how to practice?” Noah asked.
“I didn't. It just… I don't know,” I said, sighing.
This trek through the woods was a lot faster, even though I kept tripping and falling, due to not having Nick keeping me upright. At one point Noah suggested Folio carry me on his back, even going so far as to call it a “furry piggyback ride” after we refused the first time. Needless to say, we refused again.
I couldn't feel angry at him. Just… pity, I guess. “You got serious anger issues then. Probably should see a therapist about that,” I stated.
Unfortunately, Folio ran on ahead to scout the area in front of us, with Noah acting as the middle man if we had to change directions because of the terrain. Which left me with the man who just this morning had me pinned to the wall by my neck.
“So how long?” I asked. Noah made an inquisitive grunting noise. “How long did you have feelings for him?”
Noah was silent for a while, almost making me think he wasn't going to dignify me with a response, until he finally spoke, “Not too long before shit went down, actually. We… bonded a little after we watched Folio get killed.”
“Bonded? Is that a euphemism for–”
“No, get your mind out of the gutter,” Noah snapped. “We kissed once, okay? After i lost my mom, I stayed over a lot. Nick wasn't into it, and I respected that. We stayed friends, and I got a girlfriend soon after.”
“Elin?”
“God, don't fucking remind me. That bitch deserved her fate,” Noah growled. The thought of what that fate probably was had me pushing through another several moments of tense silence.
“You didn't get over him, did you?” I asked quietly.
“I did, in fact. When I was in service to the original Watcher as the Towering Man,” Noah said with a bitter laugh. “Being over six feet tall was a curse in school, and the Watcher just loved to rub my face in it.
“I would wait for Nick to realize that I wasn't dead; that I was right outside in the woods behind his house. Nick used to search the woods after the search parties gave up, turns out. I thought he had just given up. So I left, and didn't see him until the next Summer Solstice.
“I guess seeing him with you… brought back old wounds. And I acted on them.”
Noah was about to respond when he suddenly crouched down, pushing me down with him. “You see that fire?” He hissed.
We crept up on the scene before us. It was… horrifying. That was the only way I could describe it, but even then, it felt inadequate. It looked exactly how I’d imagine a cult would look like: dark clearing, candles, an altar.
I could only count ten members. They all wore black cloaks, and black masks that mimicked a deer’s skull and antlers. They all stood in pairs, except one who stood before a tall effigy made of thick branches, twigs, vines and leaves. And tied that effigy, in some kind of terrifying mockery of the crucifixion, was Nick.
I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to middle the sound of my choked sob. From this distance, I couldn’t see if he was alive or not; just that he was covered in blood.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“Wait for Jolly to lure them to the river. He's not far,” Noah said.
My stomach churned when I looked back at Nick. A part of me wanted to rush the cultists and get him down, but I knew with my disabled hip I wouldn't be able to take on ten people who may or may not have something to stab me with. At least one person had to if they were going to try to sacrifice Nick.
Just then, one of the cultists brought out a small drum, starting to tap out a rhythm that was simple but loud. I could compare it to what my heartbeat felt like.
The one that was closest to Nick, who stood out amongst the others because their mask’s antlers were blood-red instead of black like the others, held up a hand. “We will now drink from the Cup of Fate,” the leader called out.
“Come on, Jolly. Any second now,” Noah hissed from behind me.
“Our words uttered into the formless void.”
“Our words uttered…” the cultists parroted back.
“Reverberate through the space between space, between space.”
The rhythmic beating of the drum and the smell of smoke was almost hypnotizing. More so than the one time I heard Jolly’s guitar playing…
“We are heard by THAT WHICH WATCHES OVER US, so it may lift one heavy, eager eye in our direction.”
“You don’t think they have the drum to dispel Jolly’s song, do you?” I whispered to Noah.
“We are heard by those who shall always be nameless—“
“Fuckin’… shit!” Noah cursed.
“—whose incorporeal arms reach for us—“
“Alright, Folio, get in there.”
“—uniting us in unbodied observance, until we are heard no—“
The chant was cut off by the sound of a long howl. The drum stopped, and when the howl faded, I could hear the sound of a guitar and a clear voice singing:
“If God came down from His kingdom; He came down from His home, and we asked Him if He would take us back, He would surely tell us no.”
Noah had warned me of Jolly's songs, which was why I brought some small ear plugs that blocked out certain frequencies. It just so happened to block out any siren-esque frequencies as well.
What they didn't block out was the absolute chaos that came next.
They didn't block out the sounds of creaking wood and snapping branches behind me as Noah shifted into his other form. They didn't block out the sounds of Folio’s paws thundering through the forest, nor his snarls. They didn’t block out the screams as some people were ripped apart by Folio’s jaws. I had to block it all out myself.
I looked up as Noah’s deformed shadow fell over me. He looked down at me through a deer’s skull, which from this angle, I could see was melded to his face. His large, glowing white eyes pierced the darkness.
GET TO NICK.
I didn't need to be told twice.
As Noah loped towards the remaining cultists, I bolted towards Nick as fast as I was able to. I almost slammed face-first into the effigy when I skidded to a stop, but I caught myself by digging my fingers into the cracks between the sticks. The carnage behind me was still unfolding, even as I heard Noah unleash an unearthly shriek. Using a small pocket knife to cut Nick’s legs free, I soon had to climb the effigy to free his wrists.
That's when I heard a small noise come from him. I pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat and his chest rise and fall. I almost collapsed in relief. “Nick? Nick, hold on. We're gonna get you out of here,” I sputtered, moving my hand to cup the side of his face. His eyes fluttered open at the touch. They looked drained of color in the dim light.
“Hey, you’re gonna be alright, okay? I’m gonna get you out of here,” I repeated, trying to keep him conscious. “I'm gonna cut this one rope, and I'll try to catch you, but we might take a fall–"
I had cut through the rope, finally freeing him, and Nick started to slide down. I managed to catch him, but I couldn't compensate for the near-dead weight in time. As my footing slipped, I tried to catch us by grabbing onto the effigy. The wood tore my hands up. I hissed in pain, but held on for dear life; more for his and less for mine.
My feet touched the ground, followed by Nick's. Luckily he was only half a foot taller than me, because otherwise this would've gotten awkward as I wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
I searched wildly for Noah. Thankfully, he was easy to spot. I got him!! I screamed out into the ether in his direction.
GO! RUN!
Just then, a dark force barreled into me, launching me and tearing Nick from my arms. As I landed on my bad hip, a visceral scream of pain tore up my throat. In my dazed state, I barely saw the same force kick me with what seemed to be supernatural strength, as I heard bones crack as I flew several feet away and landed on my back.
“You who are empty, I shall guide your step. Lo, though you envy, envy not. Lo, though you covet, covet not.”
Despite the agonizing pain in my side, I managed to turn myself over onto my stomach. Vision spinning, I was able to find Nick, who had managed to push himself up onto his elbows. I started to pull myself toward him.
“You who are empty, I shall see through your eyes. Lo, though you toil, toil only for me. Lo, though you suffer, suffer only for me.”
A strong hand grabbed the back of my skull, tearing some of my hair out from its bun and my scalp. The pain was dulled, thanks to the adrenaline. The voice that hissed in my ear was the same voice as the leader.
“You who are empty, I shall be with you and within you. You who are empty, you shall want no longer.”
He suddenly let me go, a wave of dizziness and fog overcoming me as I collapsed back to the ground, face smashing into the hard ground. I groaned into the pavement as the adrenaline faded, and my entire left side felt like it had been scorched. I couldn’t feel my legs.
I sucked in a deep breath, though it hurt my chest to do so, and shifted my head to where my cheek was pressed against the hot asphalt. Someone’s headlights illuminated the entire crash scene, but my eyes immediately fell upon a masculine body that was several feet away, blue-gray eyes fixed on me. Eyes that pleaded for me.
I forced my body to move, even if it was just my arms. I clawed at the blacktop, my weak strength barely getting me off the street, and I barely felt the twinge as my fingernails split and broke.
YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM.
Yes, yes I could. If my stupid body would just cooperate–
YOU ARE WEAK.
Why wasn't I moving?
YOU ARE EMPTY.
No. Not this again.
My brother was dying. Again.
And I was being forced to watch. Again.
Fuck, everything hurt.
Everything was hazy as well, like the whole day was spent underwater. Nicholas tried to think of the last thing he remembered clearly. Having sex with Taylor? That was practically so ingrained into his brain, he’d never forget about that in a million years. Noah being angry and yelling at him about Taylor having sex with Taylor? Yeah, that was pretty much ingrained into him as well. Driving to his grandmother's house, going through the front door, and then… That's where his memories took a nosedive.
He practically existed in a halfway state, up until now. Small flashes of consciousness here and there was all he had. He had tried to reach out to the Woods to try and gain some energy back, but he couldn’t, so whoever had him must've drugged him or bound his inner power. He felt like a battery whose insides were slowly leaking.
Except he could sense a little spark he couldn't quite reach.
It was like it only existed in the corner of Nicholas’ vision; whenever he would look directly at it, it would disappear. When he looked away, it would appear again. It felt familiar, the little golden light, like it was a friend—
Oh, that's what it was. The fact that they were still holding onto it was surprising to him. Maybe they did share the same feelings after all.
He had coaxed the little spark closer and closer, weaving his practice into suggestions that would lead them to him, until he could almost touch it. Except when was right in front of him, he couldn't. Why couldn't he take it? It was his, after all.
“--? Nick, hold on.”
With the sound of a familiar voice, Nicholas roused to a state of semi-consciousness, but that meant the spark vanished, leaving him in the dark once again. Except now he could feel. And everything hurt.
He felt his body let out a small noise of pain. “Hey, you're gonna be alright.” A warm hand touched his face, and he was so shocked at the feeling of something not painful that his eyes slowly opened. His vision took awhile to clear up while a slightly feminine voice kept speaking. Large brown eyes swam into view. Noah?
No, Taylor. “I'm gonna cut this one rope, and I'll try to catch you, but we might take a fall–”
He couldn't hear the rest because he was too focused on the feeling of gravity pulling him down. It quickly stopped, but not before someone let out a noise of pain. He then felt his feet touch solid ground, and Taylor took all of his weight onto themselves.
Except then he was flying again - no, falling. Everything hurt more when Nicholas felt his body connect with a hard surface, almost knocking him out again, but that darkness went away when an ear piercing shriek roused him more to consciousness.
Taylor. Taylor was hurt.
Nicholas pushed himself up and looked through the curtain of his tangled and bloody hair. He managed to see Taylor, saw their eyes connect with his, until a shadow descended over them. All he saw of their attacker was blood-red antlers, and his heart dropped.
He screamed in pain and terror and anger as he launched to his feet. He managed to land a swing despite being drunk on pain and blood loss. The figure, this new leader of the cult, stumbled backwards, and then a long, branch-like arm snagged him and threw him further away.
Nicholas fell to his knees next to Taylor. “Tay?” he shouted, rolling them over. “Taylor!” Their brown eyes were wide, unseeing, but he could feel their pulse beating frantically under his fingers. They would jerk and moan occasionally, like they were experiencing a nightmare. They were under some malediction.
“Maledictions are just what we call dark practice,” Granny had told Nicholas several years ago, when he was just starting to learn the practice. “These are mostly spells that are used to hurt people, like a curse or what ordinary people might call a hex.”
Nicholas looked up at the sound of a roar that used to haunt his nightmares.
Despite facing two paranormal entities, the cult leader was somehow still standing. It was almost like watching the fight between Noah and the Black Stag all those years ago. But that meant there was only one way to defeat the Stag, if he really was possessing the cult leader. Just like last time.
And to save Taylor from the Hollowing, he’d have to kill the Vessel the only way he could.
“That sounds intense,” Nicholas had replied that night with Granny. “Have you ever done a dark spell like this?”
“No,” Granny had replied, “they can steal something from the practitioner. You might not even feel it, but the malediction can take something from you. The darker the malediction, the bigger the sacrifice.”
Using what little of his inner power he had left, Nicholas scooped a handful of dirt and rubbed it between his palms. “Come denizens of the dark earth, banish the evil and let it be no more,” he muttered into his hands. He then ran and jumped onto the Vessel’s back, earning a surprised, unearthly shriek. He wrapped his hands around the man’s throat, digging his now-black fingers into the soft flesh.
YOU CANNOT KILL US.
“No, but we can stop you. And we’ll keep stopping you from coming back, again and again, until you finally give up,” Nicholas hissed into the Vessel’s ear.
WE WILL NEVER GIVE UP, FOR WE ARE THE VERY BEST AT WAITING.
“Then you can wait in Hell, motherfucker.”
Nicholas squeezed his fingers tighter around the Vessel's throat, speaking the spell he had learned those several years ago, despite being warned of the consequences. “May the righteous triumph over he who walks the untrue path. With this sacrifice, I bind your suffering. May you eternally wither.”
And under Nicholas’ fingers, the cult leader began to rot away, until nothing was left except the wet slap of skin and bone hitting the ground.
Nicholas looked up at Noah, who was shifting into his humanoid form. He could hear Folio limping towards them, and could hear Jolly’s song fading, meaning that they were all okay. All his family was safe.
He turned to look at Taylor, who was stirring to life. Nicholas let go of the cloak, breathing out a sigh of relief as the last scraps of his essence slipped away.
And everything went black.
Tysm for reading! Next chapter coming soon!
#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens rpf#bad omens au#noah sebastian fanfiction#nicholas ruffilo fanfiction#jolly karlsson fanfiction#nick folio fanfiction#horror au#paranormal au#tag: non binary character#fic: lost in the labyrinth#series: lost in the labyrinth#cw: supernatural themes#cw: vehicular accident#cw: motorcycle accident#cw: religious sacrifice#cw: ptsd#cw: wolves#cw: bodily injury#cw: body horror#cw: graphic violence#cw: religious trauma#cw: blood#cw: witchcraft
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rat
Quick dream. Happened during a long nap yesterday.
I dreamt I was a rat, or at least, in a rat’s body. I don’t know if I was transformed, or whatever, but I just knew that I didn’t /fit in/ with other rats and they were all suspicious of me. I tried to go dumpster diving and other such ratty things to convince the others that yes, I am indeed a rat, please don’t attack me, but they still seemed to be suspicious anyway.
The rats led me to this dilapidated, derelict, old abandoned building, paint peeling and slime and rust all over the walls. We went up a couple floors and found, uh, a man, I’m guessing, from the dressing. He was face down, and also, I’m a rat, so it wasn’t like I could see his entire body clearly. He was passed out or dead, I’m not sure. The body wasn’t decayed, at least. There was a half-eaten, scavenged pizza and hot dog on the floor beside him, still in their box/wrappers, and multiple empty glass bottles and metal tins, with a strong smell of alcohol and turpentine in the air, bad enough to even make me, a rat, nauseous.
One of the man’s feet was bare, and the alpha rats directed me towards it. They told me (I’m not sure why I understand rat-speak) that rats were known for attacking helpless humans, and if I wanted to prove myself a rat, I would have to eat this man’s big toe. I was like, WHAT?! but I couldn’t protest, not just because that would make them even more suspicious of me, but because I actually physically couldn’t produce rat-speak (come to think of it, that’s probably also part of the reason why they were suspicious of me).
So I bit the man’s toe, hard enough to make it bleed, hoping that the rats would be satisfied with that, but no, they kept staring at me, until I bit and chewed and swallowed and ate that man’s big toe right off his foot, bones and all. It was so disgusting and I felt so bad for the poor dude, like, why couldn’t I just have eaten the perfectly good pizza and hotdog next to him??? Just, urgh, grimey human toe in your mouth, I could feel all the calluses and ridges on my lil’ ratty tongue, and all the sweat and the grime that he’d been walking through, and the chewiness of raw flesh and tendon and EWWWWWW it was SO disgusting that the taste itself woke me up.
0 notes
Text
I've drawn Loop Goop before but not my actual capital h Headcanons so. Here's how Loop bleeds in my mind
#codacheetah#my art#isat#in stars and time#isat loop#cw blood#cw injury#warning for ig more explicitly gory thinking in the rest of the tags --->#i just think it's inchresting to think about.... does loop even have organs?#im on team 'miscellaneous goop and flesh in the vague shape of a body system. like if u stuck ur hand in their star and pushed through#(which is something you could totally do. with some resistance)#you could feel around up in there and there'd be noticable masses but none of them would be fully developed as organs. like theyd be kinda#liquefied and only loosely connected to each other.#loop doesn't actually NEED to sleep or breathe and they can't eat but they are capable of circulating air around in there and theyll go nut#like mentally if they dont sleep. but if pressed they dont actually have any inescapable bodily needs.#even in terms of injury they'd be kinda hard to kill since none of their 'organs' actually do anything. it'd just be a game of waiting for#them to either empty out or go catatonic from pain#um. anyways. sorry to keep afflicting you with random injuries for the sake of experimentation loop
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
im past 10k words in my 5 + 1 coldflash fic. i'm only done with the first two out of six scenarios. it's going SWELL.
#writing fanfic is a labor of love#and boy is it feeling laborous#but i will finish writing this so help me god#i haven't finished writing any of my fics longer than 5k recently#so i really need this one to work out#i would like to have some semi recent finished fics on my ao3#bc rn it's lacking#there are quite a few one shots of >1k fics#but i need some solid 8k+ works too#anyways#coldflash#captain cold#the flash#barry allen#the flash cw#fanfic#ao3#archive of our own#leonard snart#this 5+1 is going to be big fluff x angst vibes#with lots of bodily injuries#len boutta get FUCKED up
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
we had a kitten in for desexing who had a slightly strange skull and possibly facial paralysis (he was fine dw) which got me looking at craniofacial conditions/deformities in cats and i found a story of a puma that had an entire lower jaw growing out its skull and its the most metal shit i ever saw
warning for animal deformity + death under read more
im pissed it was hunted ofc but im also pissed that it wasnt handed over for study
#my posts#i know its morbid but i have a fascination with bodily abnormalities#cw animal injury#cw animal death
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Somewhere in my head I'm still lightly mulling over some of the ideas in the recent ACX post on trauma on politics (which I've already brought up a couple of times here), particularly the part about some people paradoxically choosing to relive and obsess over their trauma. I can think of at least a couple of long-past events in my life that I could call significantly though perhaps not severaly traumatic (feeling that "trauma" tends to be used too broadly lately in the culture around me, I try to be on the conservative side about what I characterize as personally traumatic) which I've obsessed over and deliberately chosen to relieve for years. My reasons for this are pretty close to some of what Scott suggested: I find these events interesting even if painful to think about, interesting particularly in how understanding them better gives me clues as to how to avoid them or sense when something like that is coming again, or helps me somehow to feel like I've "mastered" them or something. And somehow facing memories directly makes me feel like they'll have less power over me, I guess.
Of course, I can certainly imagine a more traumatic kind of event that would be simply unbearable to remember to the point that I might entirely block it out of my memory or might start to melt down if I begin to remember it -- the latter is perhaps where the realm of PTSD begins.
Meanwhile, last night after biting somewhere in the inside of my mouth without being sure how, and noticing my instinct to obsessively feel around with my tongue to find where it hurts the most and measure how badly the most painful part reacts to my pressing it and so on, I made the connection between reliving and obsessing over mental/emotional trauma and doing something analogous with perceived alarming physical ailments. The pain in my mouth thing is just one example; I act this way with discomfort over all parts of my body when I'm anxious that I may have accidentally damaged myself somehow. With this latter thing, my motives are easier for me to grok in a way: I want to probe how badly I may have damaged myself, and also I want to try to stake out some "upper bound" for the pain/discomfort I'm capable of feeling from this minor injury so that I can feel what the worst is, have less unknown to fear, get some idea of how to avoid provoking it, and feel some kind of "mastery" over the whole thing.
But again, with an actual freak injury that involves pain that's actually somewhat or entirely intolerable (as in the analogous situation with a more severe trauma), this mechanism wouldn't kick in and the only thing influencing my behavior is a determination to avoid feeling the full brunt of the pain at all costs.
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
LMAO PLEAZE I HAVE A STORY AB HOE PHASES THAT UR POST WITH LAMB REMINDED ME OF
My friend once said she was with me but then had to call her mum to take her to the hospital because she tore her p***y open
JDSJHSJFDSDJ i feel like i should tag this this is crazy but idk with what???
in any case this also happen to my friend. we'll call him dee. he was having gay sex for the first time and tore his ass. i had to call his mom for him bc he kept refusing. stupid ass
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
An African in Greenland by Tété-Michel Kpomassie
Having tried and succeeded in this polar venture, was it not my duty to return to my brothers in Africa and become the “storyteller” of this glacial land of midnight sun and endless night? After the degradation of colonization and the struggle for independence, wasn’t it the task of educators to open their continent to fresh horizons? Should I not play my small part in that task and help the youth of Africa open their minds to the outside world?
In An African in Greenland, Tété-Michel Kpomassie from Togo becomes fascinated with Greenland as a teenager and after years eventually makes it there. Experiences shared with the world as a very frank travelogue.
Actually, Kpomassie is a storyteller who is more than frank. Through less a rose-colored lens as more interesting a post-colonial one, the writing possesses an indulgent quality. A myriad of memories, knowledge and encounters related which have had some effect on Kpomassie yet, unfortunately, does not always make for absorbing reading. This turned out to be one of the most challenging books I’ve read when searching out Francophone writers. Because it is just so full of extensive, specific, unrelenting detailed descriptions at the same time mixed with the briefest yet devastating sentences. However, it was a paragraph in the second to last chapter of the book that left the biggest impression on me. Kpomassie related horrors suffered by a family of one of his hosts in Jakobshavn. See the passage here (cw: alcohol abuse, domestic violence, attempted rape). Yet Kpomassie, a grown man present, gives no indication, unless being a witness is all of it, of his own course of action faced with such a situation.
Further, the book perhaps unsurprisingly suffers from a bit of myopic perspective at times. When a described fine birthday present of a rifle and ammunition pouch for a boy of thirteen was given, Kpomassie ends with a question “Where else in the world, even where survival is dependent on hunting, do people put a rifle and bullets into the hands of a child?” This is in no way as remarkable to me as Kpomassie since where I grew up people do the same.
Translated to English by James Kirkup, I also disagree with the introduction by A. Alvarez that describes the book “like a fairy story”. Kpomassie’s has an adventuring streak with traditional beliefs or folklore included, but his narrative is still largely about as down to earth as you can get. However, I do agree Kpomassie’ must come off a charming man. Making friends everywhere, including when one would think the differences matter. Finally, in 2022 at age 80 Kpomassie returned permanently to Greenland planning to live out his last days in the country.
An African in Greenland by Tété-Michel Kpomassie is available in English, translated by James Kirkup, in print from NYRB Classic
#french literature#travelogue#An African in Greenland#Tété-Michel Kpomassie#African du Groenland#Francophone50#cw: accident/injury alcoholism#cw: alcoholism animal death and cruelty blood bodily fluids and excrement child death colonization death domestic violence injury murder#cw: poverty polygamy pregnancy proselytization racism racial slur attempted rape
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
most embarrassing memory?achievement they are the most proud of?
For Virginia?
TW severe bullying, public humilation, bodily harm
1. Unfortunately there was a lot of these. She was taller than every elf in her class for years by a few feet. 5'0 is considered tall for a Christmas elf as an ADULT and Ginny grows up to be a full 6'2. Her most embarrassing moment was also the moment that made her cease trying to get other kids to like her and made her start just fucking punching these kids.
She was invited to an afterschool party, she felt that this was finally her chance to be accepted for who she was. To finally have somebody now that her parents were long gone. She came with a box of cookies that she had made for the party and was let in by the others with all smiles and gratitude.
Only as Virginia stepped through the door she was tripped by christmas wire and quickly tied up. They stuck her in a corner and covered her with glitter, stuck ornaments in her hair and all over the lights. The overstimulation pushed her into a meltdown and she struggled to break free which only made them laugh at her more. Call her things like "Christmas Tree" and "The Big Green Monster." The more she thrashed the more they worried that she might break free so they helped eachother to throw her out into the snow.
The fall caused some of the ornaments to break and she was left crying and bleeding in the snow, waiting for the older elves to come to her rescue.
That was the turning point.
2. It isn't very healthy but her proudest accomplishment was getting to the turning point in her life. She was a valued elf that helped the north pole to run and she was damn good at being a sleigh mechanic, but more important to her than that nobody fucked with her. She wasn't left alone because she was seen as an awkward freak she was left alone because every elf was terrified of the things she could do. Everyone would go quiet when she entered a room and for once the silence wasn't pertrifying it was...exhilirating...confidence building.
#virginia hollybubble#virginiaclaus#virginia claus#tw bullying#cw bullying#bullying#tw humiliation#cw humiliation#bodily harm tw#cw injury#ask me stuff#ask me shit#ask me anything#ask#ask box#asks open#ask away!#santasslayoc
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
chapter ten: DOWN in HELL AFTER ALL
Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.
CW: supernatural themes, alcohol consumption, bodily injury, body horror, graphic violence, religious trauma, blood, physical assault, minor character death
Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.
A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know.
I breathed in, eyes slowly opening, feeling warm and…. enveloped. It was the only way I could describe the fullness I felt. Wrapped in a sweet, earthy scent, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes fully was a tattoo of an eye, a spiderweb, and a rose on a tan neck. And that’s when I realized I was naked. In my bed. With a man.
No, not just a man; Nick. And I was… happy?
The anxiety and unsureness crept in. Barely two weeks had passed since I met him, and last night just… happened. Were we moving too fast? I mean, I sure as hell had no regrets, but… what if he did?
My eyes fell to his chest, where I finally could get a proper look at the lonely tattoo. It was a simple circle made of thorns with occasional gaps, done in a golden ink that somehow looked like liquid gold. I gently traced my finger around it.
Nick made a noise, stirring at last. I tried to snatch my hand away, but he moved the hand that had been tucked up above his head to take my hand and place it back on his chest.
“G’morning,” he groaned, his low voice raspy with sleep.
“Morning,” I said quietly.
“You doing okay?” he asked. His thumb started running circles on my hand, and I felt his other rub circles on my shoulder. I practically melted into his touch.
“Mmhmm,” I hummed.
“Good, good…” His voice trailed off. I felt him shift under the covers.
My eyes were pulled back to the circlet. “You’ll have to tell me about your tattoos sometime,” I said, my finger tracing the golden thorns again. I could see a trail of goosebumps left in its wake.
“That one… That’s for the Court,” he said. He chuckled quietly. “We used to call ourselves the Bad Omens, y’know?”
“No. Why’d you call yourselves that?”
“Because it’s considered a bad omen to see the others. Y’know, like a black cat crossing your path?” Nick said. “Needless to say, we don’t go by that name anymore.”
“I don’t know, it sounds kind of neat,” I admitted.
“Well you’re the only one.”
I swatted at his chest, and he chuckled again, squeezing my shoulders and kissing my forehead. My anxiety from earlier melted away.
Nick slowly trailed kisses down my face until he reached my lips, where he hovered for a few seconds before lightly pecking once, twice. On the third time, he lingered, licking the seam between like a plea for entrance. I had just opened my mouth when he let out a groan of frustration.
I pulled away. “What? What is it?”
“Noah… is out front,” Nick said, slightly out of breath. His lips crashed back down onto mine before pulling away again.
“If he’s going to keep interrupting, then we might as well see what he wants,” I said.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Nick sighed forcefully. Noah was about to get an earful.
Nick scrambled to pick up his clothes and put them on as I picked through my dresser for some shorts and a tank top. After I was done changing, I turned around, catching him staring. The way he was looking at me, I was certain he was about to make Noah wait a little bit more, but he then tore his gaze away and walked out.
Noah was indeed waiting on the front porch, drinking the now-warm beer I had left for him last night. To my surprise, Folio was with him. Of course, no Jolly.
Before I could ask, Folio sniffed. "You smell like sex."
Nick sighed as Noah choked on a sip. "You must be a delight at parties," I said.
"I wouldn’t know, since I’ve never been to one." He grinned.
Shockingly, Noah has remained quiet, which I thought was odd since he was so insistent that we got up. I couldn’t tell if he was conversing with Nick in his mind. Which was mildly infuriating, to be honest.
But as Nick pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his back pocket, he spoke aloud, “Spit it out. What’s so important that you had to drag us out of bed?”
“Well, I was going to tell you last night, when we were supposed to meet up. But you guys sounded busy,” Noah said, peering over his shoulder at the last word. My face grew hot.
“Well, you’re here now,” Nick said, a slight edge creeping into his voice. Noah’s eyes flashed, but it was only for a fleeting moment as he turned back around.
I glanced over at Folio, who had just glanced over at me, because when our eyes connected, he just made a face and shrugged. Yeah, that made two of us.
“We searched through the valley last night, but found no trace of any cult activity… or anything, for that matter,” Folio said.
“So if they are meeting, it’s not in the forest,” Noah said.
“They might be meeting in town,” Nick said. “They might’ve learned from their predecessors that they can’t exactly do their dirt work out in the woods.”
My gaze wandered up, and my eyes caught on my security camera. “Fuck! I forgot about that!” I exclaimed. I ran back into the house to grab my phone. I mindlessly scrolled through the app’s footage as I headed back to the porch.
“What are you freaking out about now?” Noah asked. I shot him a look and then pointed above my head to the doorway.
“I might’ve gotten a shot of the people who came to my door yesterday,” I said, going back to scrolling through footage. “Nick, you wouldn’t happen to know the person if I showed you, would you?”
“I mean, probably, yeah,” he said, exhaling a puff of smoke.
“Granted, I don’t know how good it’ll be, since there were a few nights when it would go offline and—“
“That was me,” Noah said.
My head shot up. “That was—“
“Well, couldn’t have you spying on me while I snuck onto your front porch now, could I?” Noah stated.
“Hold up.” Nick grabbed my arm, bringing me back to my phone. “Yeah, I know them.”
I scrolled back the footage until two men’s bodies walked up to the door. And one of them—
“He was the guy at the restaurant last Sunday!” I gasped.
“Should’ve realized something was up when he babbled about the Watcher,” Nick muttered. It was then his turn to go indoors. He came back out with his keys.
“You’re not gonna fight him, are you?” I asked incredulously.
Nick gave me a “don’t be ridiculous” look. “No, I’ve got to get back to Granny’s anyways. I forgot to let her know I wouldn’t be back last night,” he said.
“Dude, you’re 30,” Folio said, making Nick roll his eyes.
“Yes, I know that. I’m also a respectful grandson.”
“Hold on, I’m coming too,” I said.
“Relax, I’m not gonna fight the guy. Once I smooth things over with Granny, I’ll be back.” He kissed my forehead. “Don’t let them bully you.”
With that, he hopped off the porch and walked to his car, which the three of us watched drive off. I then turned to the two men.
“Would you like to come in?”
Folio was the first one in, bounding in and immediately lying on the couch. A part of me wanted to scold him for putting his muddy feet on my couch, but I immediately realized that this was probably the first time he’d been on a couch in ten years. So I let it slide.
Noah didn’t linger. His long strides took him immediately toward the back of my house. Confused, I followed.
“Your family lived here?” I asked.
“Just me and my mom,” Noah said, nudging open my bedroom door with the toe of his boot.
“There’s not a bomb in there,” I said.
“No, something else is in here—“ he said, waltzing in. He made a beeline for my dresser.
“Dude, what are—“ I winced as he easily moved my dresser away from the wall, the sound of scraping wood like nails on a chalkboard. He then pressed on the wall, partially lifting up a section of the wood paneling. “What are you doing?”
He inserted long fingers into the gap and pulled the panel free. Like he’s done this before. “Relax, little rabbit, I’m not ruining the property value of our house,” he said.
“I told you, don’t call me that,” I said, holding my arms over my chest. I watched as he shoved his whole arm into the hole; my mouth popped open when he pulled out a small lockbox. “How long ha—“
“I put it here when I had my doubts about Elin,” Noah said. “I didn’t even tell Nick about this.” He flicked the latch open.
Inside were papers: notebook pages, sketchbook pages, pages torn from books. There was also some little trinkets and ephemera, stuff I didn’t get a good look at before he scooped them up and shoved them into his jacket pocket. He set the empty box on the floor.
“Come on, Folio. We’ve got what we needed,” he said.
“What?” Folio and I said at the same time. Noah unfolded himself and drew up to his full height before he strided out of my bedroom. “Where are you going?”
“Nothing that concerns you, little rabbit,” Noah said.
“Yes, it does!” I shouted. “If… That’s technically my property! Everything in this house technically—“
Noah stopped dead, and I ran right into him. It was like running right into a tree; he didn’t seem that broad with all those layers of clothes. In a semi-dazed state, I was barely aware of him turning around and grabbing me by the throat.
“Hey, No—“ Folio started.
Noah growled, spitting out words that sounded similar to those he had used to command Folio earlier. They must’ve been the same, because Folio stalked outside, but not before he shot me an apologetic look.
“Wh-What are—“ I choked out.
“Listen, just because you fucked Nick once doesn’t mean you’re a part of our little club,” Noah spat out. “So do us all a favor, and keep out of our business, because it’s about to get very, very bloo—“
Noah’s words stopped dead, and he let out a choked noise. He let go of me, and I dropped to the ground, gasping for breath.
Just then, Folio rushed back in. “What? What happened?” he demanded.
“Nick. Something happened to Nick.”
It was like a living nightmare at Granny's. The rainy, late morning on the street was wrecked by flashing lights of cop cars, ambulances and whatever else. The only car I had eyes for was Nick's, and it was motionless in the driveway.
The block was cordoned off by tape and the policemen, so there was no way I could get close to see the damage.
ANYTHING YET?
I gritted my teeth together. I had sped as fast as I could in my car, while Noah and Folio ran through the forest. Something about they couldn't get in my car; not that I wanted them to, not after the shit that Noah pulled. And now, despite hurting me, here he was trying to get a vantage point from me.
HEY. ANSWER ME.
I tried to remain focused on the scene before me, though my dark thoughts were a mess in–
ANSWER ME.
A sharp pain pierced behind my eyes at his command. Fuck you, I don't answer to you!
GET OVER YOURSELF. THERE'S MORE AT STAKE HERE.
God, you think I want anything to do with you? First you pretended to be nice to get inside my house, then you tried to kill me, and now you're all buddy-buddy because Nick might be in trouble? Fuck you.
There was a presence behind me, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I peered behind me and nearly jumped. "Jesus!" I hissed.
"A lot of people say that when they see me," Jolly said. He was wearing a shirt now, and sunglasses blocked his translucent eyes.
"I thought you couldn't leave the river," I whispered. We were in the middle of a crowd after all.
"Rain."
"Really? That's how you can leave the river?"
"Well, this is a really good reason to be away, ya?"
I turned back to Granny's house. "They haven't come out of there yet. I can't tell if Nick's in there or not."
OH, YOU'LL TELL JOLLY WHAT'S GOING ON, BUT NOT ME–
Quiet! I snapped at Noah. Out of the three of you, Jolly hasn't tried to kill me!
HILARIOUS, CONSIDERING HIS BODY COUNT.
I brushed aside that comment. "Is there a way to shut him out?" I asked.
Instead of answering me, Jolly lightly gripped my chin and turned my head to face the house. Where they were bringing out a stretcher. And a covered body.
"Nick–" I jolted forward, but Jolly grabbed my arm. His grip was cold and clammy, and it made my mind reel.
"That's not Nick," Jolly said.
"Then–" Oh god.
Granny.
My stomach plummeted. Possibilities ran wild through my head, but I kept my eyes on the door, half-expecting Nick to also walk out. But my eyes were drawn back to the body as the EMTs loaded the stretcher into the ambulance. They then closed the doors and drove off. Surely Nick would've gone with her if he–
NICK'S NOT IN THERE
There was a terrifying edge to Noah's tone. With how he'd treated me, I had forgotten that he could care for someone other than himself. Granny had probably been a family member to him, as much as she was to Nick.
That's when I saw something flash in the corner of my eyes. Little eyes reflecting light under nearby bushes. With all the doors opening, they must've escaped while no one was looking.
“Come on, vännen. Let's go. There's nothing for us here," Jolly said. Which couldn't be true. Granny was the first person in this town to take pity on me. There had to be something I could do–
“Shit. Hold on,” I said practically leaving Jolly in the dust. I managed to sneak past the few policemen, which wow, they sucked, and crouched near the bushes.
“Jerry... Lydia... c’mere!” I said quietly, and making the cat-attraction sound. It took a lot of coaxing, and maybe the recognized me or the slight scent of Nick, but eventually I managed to make my way back to Jolly with an armful of cats.
“Okay, let's go."
With Lydia and Jerry safely tucked away in my room, cuddled on the side of the bed Nick had slept in, I came out of my room to see only Folio in my house.
“Taylor, I'm sorry about–”
“You couldn't help it,” I muttered. “Was that word he used a command you had to follow?” He nodded. “Then forget it. We have more important things to worry about.”
Suddenly Folio shoved his way in between us. “Seriously? Fuckin’ fighting when something bad might've happened to Nick?" he shouted. “His grandma is dead, he's nowhere to be found. We need to find out where he is.”
I trekked outside, where the rain was absolutely pouring, and Noah stood on my front porch.
“How long have you loved him?" I asked.
“I'm not dignifying that–”
“Answer the question, Davis,” I spat out venomously. “Don't fuck with me right now. I've seen how you look at Nick. Just because you're jealous–”
“Jealous?” Noah hissed, towering over me. “Jealous of what, you? You've barely known him for a week! You think you know Nick? I've known him for fifteen years."
“And you think killing me was going to... what? Clear the way? You were the one trying to get me to stay. You were the one who told me he was lonely. So tell me.. what do you want?" I angrily demanded.
“I wanted you to stay, I didn't say fuck his brains out,” Noah hissed.
“Well guess what? He was the one who initiated. And you know what? It was the best sex I've ever–"
“Jolly,” Noah said, tearing his eyes away from mine. Jolly, who had been sitting in front of the porch this whole time, turned his head towards Noah, “see if you can find anything. You're free to search as long as the rain holds.”
Jolly nodded, standing up and taking off into the woods. I was sad to see him go, as he was the one I didn't feel like was going to kill me in the future.
"Why would he be in the woods?” Folio asked.
"This has the cult written all over it,” Noah said.
My stomach churned. “Why would they want Nick? It's way past the Summer Solstice,” I said.
"That's one thing I can't figure out," Noah muttered. “Granny's death was definitely not natural; Grannies can live way past a hundred years old.”
“Wait, Granny wasn't just a nickname?” I asked.
"No, Granny is a title in their practice. She just happened to be Nick's grandmother as well." Noah said.
“Can't you just... see where he is? Through your mind-talking power?” I asked.
Noah sighed. “I tried. I can't get a feel for him. Which is another reason why I don't think he's okay.”
Something in my stomach fluttered. It’s been hours since Nick left. If something happened to him, it could already be too late. For what though, I had no clue. I was absolutely stumped.
Maybe Noah was right. I barely knew Nick. What claim do I really have over him? I was just someone who stumbled into their territory unwillingly. I hadn’t grown up scared of the townspeople possibly coming after me. I was a stranger.
I was lost.
I leaned back against the house and slowly crumbled to the ground, folding in on myself. What could I even do? I didn’t have magic powers or the ability to change into a form more suited for this. I was just a regular human, someone who couldn’t even decide what gender they wanted to be.
“Hey.”
That’s when I felt hands on my shoulders. I looked up, Folio crouched next to me, but it was Noah who was talking. “We’ll find him,” he said.
“Not for me,” I muttered.
“Maybe not," he said, shrugging, “but let's handle this one problem at a time.”
“We can find the guy who was in the footage," Folio said.
“I don't know where he lives,” I said.
“I do,” Noah said. “And he has easy access to the forest."
“You should... probably stay here,” Folio said, patting me on the shoulder.
“Why?" I demanded.
"I told you it was going to get bloody, didn’t I?” Noah said, standing up. And I’m not going to hold back with Nick's life on the line.”
I swallowed. At least he was warning me. “Fine. Do what you do," I said.
“Oh, we fully plan on it," Noah said, grinning. I swore I could hear twigs snapping with the movement.
Tysm for reading! Next chapter coming soon!
#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens rpf#bad omens au#noah sebastian fanfiction#nicholas ruffilo fanfiction#jolly karlsson fanfiction#nick folio fanfiction#horror au#paranormal au#tag: non binary character#fic: lost in the labyrinth#series: lost in the labyrinth#cw: supernatural themes#cw: alcohol#cw: bodily injury#cw: body horror#cw: graphic violence#cw: religious trauma#cw: blood#cw: physical assault#cw: minor character death
14 notes
·
View notes
Note
Happy Blorbo Blursday! For the Blorbo of your choice:
What is the bravest thing they have ever done?
What is the worst injury they’ve ever had? Alternatively: what was the closest they’ve ever come to dying? Has it had a long-lasting impact on them?
~Morri🗡️ (@memento-morri-writes)
hello and how are you?
Happy Blorbo Blursday, Morri! Thank you so much for stopping by! And also just, THESE QUESTIONS, YES, WE HAVE JUST THE PERSON, HAPPY SQEEEEEE.
cough, Anyways, um, so, we are going to be throwing Neal under the b- we mean, focusing on our beloved Immortal King, for this one!
His Intro Post is here, if you are interested in him! c:
But alright everyone, buckle down and up and sideways, bc are all of you in for a treat. Yes, we are adding you all in, so shush and listen to the torment of our favorite King!
we promise we love him.
Content Tag List (ask to be added or removed)
@a-completely-normal-writer | @aalinaaaaaa | @autumnalwalker | @bardic-tales | @emersonjydestein | @enchanted-lightning-aes | @fearofahumanplanet | @howsweetthewords |@jessica-writes22 | @junypr-camus | @lockejhaven | @midnights-melodiverse | @papercutsunset | @talesofsorrowandofruin
cw: injury talks, bodily gore, blood, depictions of chest wounds, trauma response talks
Please keep yourselves safe. Let us know if anything needs to be added/removed
What is the bravest thing they have ever done?
Honestly, this one is a little hard, bc Neal is the fool who would stand in a burning building and gather people out. He is also the fool to let himself get burned into Oblivion, but let's not focus on his stupidity, yes?
But maybe... well, Neal has done so many brave things, that one is a little hard, but we do have a small thought. And it was that, even as a child, he gave himself over to his People.
A Tragedy took place one day, one that took away Tempkinhand's King and Queen, stripped the Lands of their Anthrium, and left their People to mourn and fall into quiet devastation. And among this horror, and along with holding his own misery and agony in losing his parents, Neal chose to be the light for his People.
The Trees would not choose his siblings, and when they came to him to throw himself away and live for both Nature and Humanity, he did it without a second thought to how it would change him. And a lot of people revere and worship Neal for this act alone.
He didn't have to. He shouldn't have even been asked to. But he did it. Bc he knew that Tempkinhand needed him, and he is too selfless to leave it at simply that.
What is the worst injury they’ve ever had?
Alternatively: what was the closest they’ve ever come to dying?
Has it had a long-lasting impact on them?
So, these questions hold the same answer, bc Neal did actually come as close to Death as any of my Immortals could possibly reach out for.
After he was chosen to be King and the Antrium of Tempkinhand, he met a child by the name of [redacted]. Neal adored this child and this child adored Neal. But that child, driven into Insanity by the Runes of Chaos and the Madness of the Alchemists, did something that neither would ever really be able to live through without consequences.
He committed a Taboo.
He tried to rip out Neal's heart and tear his soul apart so that he could "harvest" the Immortal Potential of Neal.
Neal sustained an injury that is the equivalent of having his chest ripped open, his blood almost completely removed from his veins, and his body almost entirely ripped apart without the ability to be saved. He also had to endure the injuries of being absolutely torn apart from the inside, with his soul almost being torn from him.
[redacted] had to live with the Worlds destroying him with a Curse that ate him apart, body, mind, and soul.
And this event and injury do have lasting impacts on Neal.
He holds trauma responses to his neck being touched with force, to being restrained and straddled, his chest touched or hurt. He has a lot of trouble with people being physical with him in rougher ways and tends to default to panic attacks. He also tends to have nightmares about the events, which leads to a lot of problems, but he does has a safety circle of mostly his Family and his Promised.
Sidenote: The name is being redacted by the Observer Mitch. No mention of the Oathbreaker is be uttered in works and writings with reference to the Taboo or the King of Tempkinhand. All documents will have the name removed and laid to waste within the Void of the Worlds.
This Ask Led To 125 Words! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧
Into The Word Box: 7,795
#Runes of Knowledge#blorbo blursday#blorbo#writings#The Immortal Neal Anderson#character chatter#cw: injury talks#cw: bodily gore#cw: blood#cw: depictions of chest wounds#cw: trauma response talks#into the word box#onto the next hundred+
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
my very first time trying linocutting and i only cut one (one!) of my fingers :)
#printmaking#linocut#linocarving#linoprint#artists on tumblr#sharp objects#food cw#death cw#bodily harm cw#injury cw
1 note
·
View note
Text
The Narrative Importantance of Hualian's Sexual Intimacy
This is a repost and minor edit of a thread I made on Twitter yesterday. This is a topic I have always wanted to talk about because of how often it comes up in TGCF fandom, time and time again.
‼️CW: mentions of sexual assault, self-harm, bodily injury‼️
⚠️Major spoilers for the entire novel ahead⚠️
---
Saw a question the other day on what relevance Hualian being sexually intimate by the end of the novel had to either the narrative or Xie Lian's character arc.
In short: it bears significant relevance, especially in context of other themes the novel explores like bodily autonomy.
Throughout the novel, we see time and time again that Xie Lian is often dehumanized by pretty much everyone—including himself—with the sole exception of Hua Cheng. I've talked more in depth about it in an old twt thread, for those interested. @/stalliondany on twt has also made an excellent recent analysis that goes deeper into the specific ways Xie Lian was used as a physical shield, martyr, or scapegoat for others without thought to his humanity or suffering. I highly recommend reading it first!
But to sum it all up: it's important to Xie Lian's character arc to keep in mind that he is used to seeing his own body as a tool to solve problems. And in crucial narrative moments, he is robbed of his bodily autonomy, and either brutalized or violated in service of others.
One of the plot points that ties together all these concepts is actually... Xie Lian's chastity vows. That will be the main focus of this post.
When he was a young teen (or possibly as a child), Xie Lian took an oath of chastity because such was the norm for cultivators seeking ascension in Xian Le. To Xie Lian, even as he grew older, he never had an issue with this because he just never felt sexual attraction to another person, or any desire to be intimate in that way. Even if he yearned for the concept of being loved. And indeed, at first glance, his chastity vows may seem like nothing more than a side note. Or even a funny gag when it comes to Hua Cheng (later).
In reality Xie Lian's chastity vows are not only used against him, but paint a very disturbing picture with regards to his repeated violation.
The Land of the Tender scene is the most obvious example of this. Xie Lian's vows are directly tied to his spiritual powers, and because it affects how his followers see him. They place a high value on his chastity as being vital to his moral character.
For reference, an excerpt from TGCF vol. 3 of the English print translation, page 135:
Xie Lian's method of cultivation required a pure body. Those who worshipped the ascended cultivators who practiced this path were firmly convinced of the transcendence of gods untouched by earthly desires. If they couldn't protect their purity, their following would no doubt collapse and their powers would be devastated. It wouldn't be as serious as plunging from godhood to back to mortality, and there was still the possibility of recovery after many more years of cultivation—but with things as they were now, there was no time for him to sit behind closed doors and cultivate for years!
As a reminder: it is Bai Wuxiang who orchestrated this whole thing. Him trying to compromise Xie Lian in this way is horrific on many levels, yet that's not the main point I want to make here. It's that to preserve his "pure body," the solution Xie Lian realizes is to severely harm himself. To impale himself with his sword through the abdomen.
The juxtaposition of having to maintain bodily purity versus the gruesome violence inflicted on his body is extremely stark.
This grim contrast is no more evident than in the 100 swords scene. Where Xie Lian's body is literally brutalized and defiled to an unthinkable degree. To the point where he, quote: "no longer looked human." Yet he emerges from that temple physically "pure" all the same. His chastity vows were not broken, his body healed without scars. As though he was untouched.... And yet, he was completely destroyed mentally. It left permanent effects on him as a person. It's even worse when the scene is read analogous to sexual assault, as many have talked about before. I think that interpretation actually hits the nail on the head, especially keeping in mind the Land of the Tender scene and all the similarities between them.
Following the 100 swords scene, Xie Lian of course has a complete disconnect between himself and his body. I believe this is part of why he doesn't really feel pain, except when he is with Hua Cheng, who treats him and his body as one. As a person who is cherished, and loved. Hua Cheng is adamant in his adoring treatment of Xie Lian. Small injuries are also something he cannot tolerate because he knows what horrors befell Xie Lian in the past. (He was present at both the terrible moments mentioned above.) He will not let any of that continue, regardless of what Xie Lian says, because he sees it as injustice.
Xie Lian is willing to use himself as a tool to help others no matter the personal cost. He even thinks of it as something he must do, or that he deserves as penance. But Hua Cheng is the one person who asks "what about you?" He's the one that insists "your happiness matters." And it is Hua Cheng that takes issue with Xie Lian's chastity vows as being unfair, unlike everyone else. Regardless of Hua Cheng's reasons for this diegetically, symbolically it means a lot that he is the one opposed to this.
Just thinking about the chastity vows on their own for a moment: Xie Lian can indulge a little bit in stuff like alcohol, which isn't great to begin with for him. But he absolutely cannot engage in "pleasures of the flesh." He can totally have his flesh ripped from his bones, literally, but actually experiencing any kind of sexual gratification? Now that would make him unclean, and lesser.... Why? Because unlike everything else, that's something Xie Lian would do simply for himself to feel good. And what greater crime is there than to ever dare put himself first?
So Hua Cheng—being the one person who puts Xie Lian first above all else—thinking that such a restriction doesn't make sense is important. Hua Cheng being the person who Xie Lian breaks those vows for in the end is important! (Especially because it seems to have been an easy choice for him.)
And of course, the scene with Jun Wu and the Virginity Detector Sword™ has to be mentioned. Again, there's symbolism to be had! The perpetrator of two of the most physically violating moments of Xie Lian's life (both of which were sexual in nature; one literally and one allegorically) being the one to "check" Xie Lian's virginity... oof. Yikes. It's dramatic irony. It's deeply uncomfortable. Especially because Jun Wu probably wanted to know if Xie Lian slept with Hua Cheng, as he already knew Xie Lian wasn't the ghost fetus' father.
So it's once again a stark juxtaposition: of Ghost King Hua Cheng disagreeing with the purity vows, wanting Xie Lian to break them for himself and his own freedom. Versus Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu wanting to weaponize those vows against Xie Lian in whatever way he can, intact or not, to keep control over him.
Naturally, there's something to be said for the real-world problem with such purity vows being used against people, to judge their moral character, societal expectations, etc. Elephant in the room. It's very on the nose, so there isn't even much to say about it that hasn't been said already.
In the end, it comes down to how horrible it is that when Xie Lian tries to help others, it results in immense harm to his body every time. Yet he is expected to continue to bear it, for centuries, by others and also himself. Until he meets Hua Cheng, who helps him rediscover what it means to be happy, and to be loved. So yes, it's absolutely relevant that in the end, Xie Lian decides to break his purity vows to be intimate with Hua Cheng. That he's able to put himself in Hua Cheng's hands, and let himself be treated with affection and desire. It's Xie Lian finally forgiving himself, and beginning to heal.
807 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part 9 - Pneumothorax
Slasher Handler Masterlist
NSFW under the cut.
CW: Accidental injury with knife, descriptions of wounds, wound care, field medicine, allusions/symptoms of lung collapse, blood, ingestion of bodily fluids, gagging
Something your nightmares have never been able to truly capture is just how unnervingly easy it is to push a knife through flesh. The smallest knife cuts through Simon’s skin easier than the MRE packaging. Something dangerous flickers behind his eyes as he looks down at where you’ve pushed the knife into the side of his chest.
Everything is eerily still for a moment. And then he looks back up at you and grins so hard you can tell through the mask.
The knife slips from between your numb fingers. It stays lodged between his ribs for a moment before falling to the ground. You scramble to your feet to stand over his still kneeling form. “Oh god. Simon.”
The way you’d slipped and rolled must have put the knife exactly where it needed to be to slide around his vest. His shirt underneath is ripped enough that you can see pale skin and so much red blood. The wound is bubbling, blood thinning in the cold rain. “Oh, god, Simon, what do I do?”
“Punctured a lung,” he whispers, barely a breath.
“You need a doctor,” you say, and it feels stupid, so obvious, but, “I don’t know where we are. How am I supposed to call for help?”
“’M okay, Precious,” he grunts. And then he stands up, like he’s not at risk of lung collapse. He points at the muddy backpack that flew from your shoulder as you’d grappled with him. “Get the bag.”
The bag? “We’re not playing games anymore!”
“’S got medical supplies in it,” Simon answers. He crouches down to pick up his own pack, and his chest makes a wet sound. “’N another gift for you. C’mon, we’ll go back to the cabin.”
Your heart is in your throat, but at least the cabin has running water. With the medical supplies, you can at least try to clean him up before driving him to the nearest hospital. Wherever that might be. You prop his arm over your shoulder and do your best to brace his good side.“Okay. Okay, let’s go.”
As you start to walk, the edge of the roof is barely in view through the drizzle. You’re so glad you were already on your way back to the cabin when he’d tackled you. Why did you have the knife out? You’d been playing with it, cutting shapes into a big leaf. He should have seen it, he’d run at you from the side. But that’s why he got you something so small, right? So someone attacking you wouldn’t see it, so you could have the element of surprise.
“Call Price,” Simon says, suddenly, knocking you out of your worried spiral.
You look up at him, then at the cabin that’s barely ten meters away. “What?”
“Use my phone. You know the code,” he says again, “Call Price, tell him we’re at the empty north cabin.”
Before you can ask “What?” again, or even, “Who the hell is Price?”, he starts slumping into you. And then all 18 stones of him are in a semi-controlled fall. You try your best to not drop him, gasp when he hisses as your arm presses against the hole in his chest.
The only thing in your head, as Simon slumps into the mud, his blood all over your hands, is that the weather didn't hold out the way you both expected.
Simon’s phone isn’t on him, or in his little knapsack. It’s one of the scariest things you’ve ever done, leaving him there in the dirt to run into the cabin. At the same time, it’s… familiar. Leaving a man to die while you call for help that can’t possibly arrive in time.
This is different. The first time you’d stabbed a man, you’d meant to do it.
The cabin is a little abandoned thing that Simon had fixed up a bit in the middle of nowhere. Outside of the room you’d woken up in, it has a wet room style toilet and shower and a counter with a hot plate. The rest of the weirdly clean little building is just one empty room leading to the only external door.
You hand shakes as you paw through the pile of stuff in one corner of the main room. Simon’s left his battered old phone in the pocket of his jeans, like he always does. Your hands shake as you punch in his passcode. You’re jogging back to his side as soon as you select the only named contact in the phone.
By the time someone picks up, you’re back on your knees by Simon’s side, relieved to see his eyes fluttering.
“Price,” a man answers.
“Hello?” You try not to let your voice get to frantic. “Simon’s hurt. He said to call you. We’re at the north cabin.”
“Empty,” Simon grunts, barely audible.
“The empty one,” you clarify. The line is silent. “Hello?”
“He’s wounded?” Price asks, cool and almost distracted.
“Punctured lung,” you say. “He passed out, but he’s kind of conscious now.”
The man on the other end hums. “That does sound a bit serious.”
“Please,” you insist. “I don’t know where we are, please call an ambulance.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” And then the line goes dead.
Your hands are shaking when you touch Simon’s face. “He hung up. Simon, I’m so sorry, he hung up. I don’t know if I can get you into the car. I don’t know if there’s enough time for anyone to get here.”
“’S fine, Precious,” he says, barely a whisper. He looks just as peaceful as if he was at home, in bed. The mud and blood and burbling chest wound ruin the illusion. “Been in worse shape’n this. Price’ll come.”
“We don’t need him here, we need you in a hospital!” It suddenly strikes you that Simon had mentioned medical supplies. “Should I try to stop the bleeding? Gauze and pressure, right?” You grab the backpack and tear it open. There’s gauze, antiseptic gel, and bandage wraps. You also find a small bottle of rubbing alcohol.
“Splash of alcohol first,” Simon says, closing his eyes. When you slap him, he glares up at you with one eye. “Oi.”
“Don’t fall asleep on me!”
“’M no’. Just restin’ m’eyes.”
“Not that either!” The way his accent is becoming more pronounced, and his words more slurred, sets your already galloping heart racing. You uncap the alcohol and tip it, not at all gently, over the wound. “Stay awake.”
“Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell,” Simon growls, followed by a pained wheeze. “Okay. Fuck. Gauze next, you’ll have to hold it down. Don’t have enough bandages and too much mud, besides.”
The first piece of gauze gets soaked with rain and blood immediately, so you open another couple of packages and press. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you tell him over his hissing. Tears finally start catching up to you. “Simon, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Simon.”
“’S fine,” he sighs. One big, muddy hand comes up to pat your shoulder. “Shouldn’a come at you from the left. Better t’ stay low and come at you from the right.”
“I still might have stabbed you,” you protest. “I shouldn’t have had that stupid knife out, I should have known better-”
“You couldn’a known.”
“I should have,” you insist, and the tears are falling even faster now. “I didn’t need to be playing with knives, I knew you were out here, that you’d start chasing me any moment.”
“’S part of the game,” Simon sighs with a lazy grin. “Weren’ supposed t’ stab me in the chest, but tha’s on me.”
“I wasn’t supposed to stab you at all, Simon,” you sob. “I never wanted…! I don’t…!” Simon’s eyes flutter closed again, and you feel your heart break. “Simon, please, stay awake. I’m sorry. Please, Simon. I don’t hate you, I’m sorry.”
You're not sure how much time passes. But you jump when a hand touches your shoulder, whip around to put yourself between Simon and whoever’s come up behind you. A white man with a beard you would absolutely expect to see walking around in the woods looks between you and Simon with raised brows. He brings a cigar to his lips and takes a pull.
“Simon,” the man says. “You broken?”
“No, sir,” Simon says. When your gaze snaps to him, his eyes are bright behind his mask.
“She said you punctured a lung,” the man you can only assume is Price points out.
“Affirmative.”
“John Price,” he finally introduces himself. He offers you a hand up. When you look between his hand and where you’re keeping pressure on Simon’s wound, he chuckles. “Let’s get this drama queen inside, shall we?” Then Kyle appears at his elbow with a grin and an arm full of blue tarp.
“How’s the hobby search going?”
You can’t stop yourself from bursting into tears.
John Price had guided you inside while Kyle somehow maneuvered Simon onto the tarp to drag him the last few meters to the cabin. Now, there’s another tarp laid out on the floor, with Simon’s clammy, pale body on top of it. Knelt next to him, Kyle mutters something to himself, focused but relaxed. He’d complimented you on a clean strike, once he’d gotten Simon inside and cleaned the wound enough to look at it. Apparently, you probably could have done a lot of damage before killing him outright, if you’d really wanted to.
The sucking sound from Simon’s chest as he chuckled had made you run outside to throw up.
“You meet my girl, Skipper?” Simon eventually wheezes. There’s a big patch of of gauze taped over the wound. That side of him, from shoulder to hip, is the only part of him that’s really clean, besides his now-unmasked face. He winces when Kyle does something with the tubing sticking out of his chest. It’s still trickling blood, but that seems to be better than the flood from when Kyle had first pushed a thick needle between his ribs.
“I have,” John Price says, blowing a cloud of smoke. “You haven’t been keeping her here long. Surprised she stuck around to make sure you’d be okay.”
It strikes your ears as… absurd. The idea that Simon had whisked you away to this tiny, sparse little building for, what? For good? Nonsensically, you want to point out that there’s no kitchen, and Simon knows you like to prep and cook when you’re stressed. MREs wouldn’t cut it for long.
And then it occurs to you that John Price knows Simon. Knows him well enough that he expects you to die.
“She’s had Riley here on a leash for half a year,” Kyle informs him. He pats Simon’s cheek condescendingly, ignores his growl of annoyance. “Poor bastard’d been going mad, cooped up with nothing to do since Soap’s been locked up.”
“Eight months,” you whisper. You’re sitting on the edge of the tarp by Simon’s good side. You sip some water and offer it to Simon. He lets you tip the bottle carefully to his lips. “We met eight months ago.”
“Christ,” Price says, rolling his eyes. “I told you to keep a low profile.”
“’ave been,” Simon grunts.
“And, that little excursion at the ski lodge was what, exactly?”
Simon tilts his head to look at you, mischievous smirk under the black makeup around his eyes. “Had to make sure our first date was memorable.”
You want to smack him. The thought makes you feel guilty since you’ve already stabbed him today. You compromise by petting through his hair, right where the scar you gave him sits, then give his ear a little tug when you get to it.
“Hope it was worth it,” Price says. “You going to get rid of her, or am I?”
Simon is up and standing in front of John almost before you see him move. The back of him is still spattered with dirt and blood, silvery scars in stark contrast. You watch his chest expand, hear the whistle and bubble of air and blood through the tube you can’t see. You take one look at Kyle’s startled, worried face and quickly get to your feet.
When you come around his side, you shiver and shrink back a bit. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Simon’s face this frigid. He’s completely closed off as he stares down at Price, doesn’t even spare you a glance.
For his part, John remains completely relaxed. He takes a lazy pull from his cigar and blows the smoke from the side of his mouth, away from you. “Touched a nerve, have I?”
“She’s good people,” Kyle pipes up, coming to stand across from you, so everyone is in a loose square. He keeps his hands in his pockets. “Hasn’t made no trouble yet.”
John doesn’t look away from Simon. “That so?”
You reach out for Simon’s hand, then think better of it. You touch his back instead, in case he needs that hand. You step closer but stay a little bit behind him. “Simon?”
“She’s talked to the police, you know,” John says. “After your stint at the hospital, and again after your little date.”
That startles you. “I never-”
“Hush, now,” John says.
Simon flinches at the same moment that you feel your back straighten. “Excuse me?” You take a step forward into John’s space. “Maybe you forgot, but I called you here to help. If I wanted him dead, Simon would be dead right now. If I wanted him arrested six months ago, he’d have been arrested.”
“Precious-”
“No, Simon.” you interrupt him, staring into John’s eyes. “He practically lives in my apartment. He drugged and kidnapped me literally last night. He made me touch Brandon’s skull, and then I stabbed him this afternoon. I’ve been at the scene of two mass murders and now I’ve almost killed someone else. What the fuck makes you think you can come in here and talk about me like you know anything about me? Like you think I’m an idiot? Why do you think you get to shush me?”
The man doesn’t react except to pull from his cigar again. Your clothes are stiff and damp and uncomfortable, but you resist the urge to fidget. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Kyle look from you to John and back again.
“If you ever have him arrested, he’ll be out in a day,” John finally says. “You’ll be dead before then.”
“Oh gee,” you mock. “I wonder why that never occurred to me. Making the serial killer angry might get me killed. Shocking.”
Simon’s hand gently touches one of your wrists. “Easy, Precious. Price ‘s just lookin’ out.”
You let him take your hand. “He can do less of that, thank you very much.”
Simon reels you back against his front. He props his chin on top of your head and kind of sags some of his weight onto you. “Don’t think he can, love. Fundamentally incapable. Has to take care of his men.”
“Well he’s my man, now,” you grit out. “So you can fuck right off, John.”
For whatever reason, that cuts the tension. Kyle barks a laugh before he can stop himself. John tips his head back and huffs out smoke. Simon just presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Kyle told me you were a little off,” John says. He props a foot on his knee to stub out his cigar on the sole of his boot. “Simon’s been real tight lipped, but I see why he likes you. Not much self-preservation to speak of.”
Of all the stupid conclusions he could have come to…!
Simon’s hand covers your mouth before you can tell John exactly what you think of him. “She’s helping me find new hobbies.”
John just shakes his head. “I don’t want to know. Kyle, how long is he recovering?”
“Three weeks. Two, if he avoids aggravating it,” Kyle answers.
Simon hums. “’M gonna aggravate it.”
“Goddammit,” John swipes a hand down his beard. “Soap’s supposed to be my troublemaker, not you.”
The murderous stalker isn’t the problem child? You snort behind Simon’s hand. Hopefully, you never meet this Soap guy.
“Fun as all of this is, I’m on shift in four hours,” Kyle says, looking at his watch. “Need to get home and sanitize. Riley, usual wound care. Drain’s gotta come out in three days. And you need antibiotics. Seriously.” He looks at you. “Make sure he gets them and takes them. All of them. His feet will fall off.”
“No they won’t,” you say when Simon drops his hand to wrap around your shoulders, just as he says, “Fuck off, Garrick.”
“Take the damn antibiotics,” John says, standing from his seat. “Be ready for a call in three weeks.”
“Affirmative.”
“And you,” John holds a hand out to you to shake. Waits for you to take it and gives a firm shake. “Let me know if you get tired of him hangin’ all over you.”
“So you can kill me.”
He gives you an amused grin. “I’m not in the practice of wasting valuable assets.”
“I’m sure you meant that in a way that’s not offensive,” you answer. “I’ll do my best to never call you again.”
“Smart girl.” He gives Simon a nod, and then he and Kyle are out the front door.
The shower head sputters and spits, but eventually produces surprisingly warm water. Not hot, but warm enough that you don’t feel bad herding Simon in to get clean. Warm enough that you groan when you step in with him.
There’s a silicone bulb hanging from the tube in Simon’s armpit, compressed to create some kind of vacuum. It’s pink with blood and other fluids. It doesn’t seem to bother him, so you use your hands to gently wash you both with a generic body wash. When you start rinsing dirt and an errant piece of leaf litter from your hair, he smirks and leans in until your back is pressed against the cold tile.
“Fuck,” you can’t help but panic. Your hands go to his hips in case he’s losing his balance. “What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t answer, just braces the arm on his wounded side over your head. The drain site looks a little red, but not concerning, so you check the edges of the waterproof bandage Gaz placed to make sure it’s still set.
That’s why you don’t realize what he’s done until a splash of his blood hits your cheek and drips into your mouth. You can’t really rear back, trapped against the wall. All you can do tilt your face away and sputter as he empties the drain onto the side of your neck to drip down your collarbones.
He grunts a disagreeing sound when you lift your arm, catches your hand before you can lift it very far. His hand comes up to your cheek, two fingers touching where his blood has dripped to your chin. He pushes his hips into you, and you can feel where he’s getting hard.
When he speaks, it’s little more than a whisper. “You were supposed to slash my arm, you know.”
“Wha-”
He’s not gentle when he shoves his fingers into your mouth. For all that he was laid out on the floor less than an hour ago, you can’t force his hand away with both of yours. It’s all you can do try to fight the urge to gag as you barely hold him at bay.
“Knew you’d like the gifts,” he growls down at you. “But you were s’possed to slash, hm? That’s what a good girl like you does, chased in the woods. Easy to drop a knife that way.” He uses his fingers in your mouth and thumb under your chin to make you stare up into his eyes. “Where’s a sweet thing like you learn to keep a knife close to the body? Felt you let it slide, flat. Felt you push.”
Had you? You hadn’t felt it, just the anxiety spike of being attacked, the cradle of his hand shielding your head from the ground. Just his huge body and that skull mask, on you suddenly, without warning. You can’t answer, can’t even try without gagging. Simon gives your jaw a little shake.
“You could have killed me, today.” He grinds your body between his and the wall for a moment, before stepping back. He drags you under the spray of water, other hand cradling the back of your head. You struggle to cough, try to turn your face down. Your heart races as you do, knowing it’s only because he let you.
And then he slips his fingers from your mouth and brings your face to his chest. He holds you as you cough, pets over your back. You cling to him, because what else can you do? When you finally look up at him, his pupils have all but swallowed the blue of his eyes.
“Fear looks so good on you, Precious.”
Taglist: @mishaglass, @oceanicexolorer, @whitetiger846, @iknownothingpeople, @fruitdoom, @achillesquartz, @hindi-si-ikay, @ahopelesspedantic
#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction#cod#simon ghost riley#dark fic#simon riley x you#slasher handler#simon riley x you smut#manic pixie dream ghost#gaz appreciation nation#price is right#this one was a monster and fought me every step of the way#but it's finally here#i did a lot of research for this one but i'm not a doctor
249 notes
·
View notes
Text
Farewell to Thee?
A/N: (checks last post time stamp) Oopsie. (drops this in front of yall like a bag of groceries and fades into the distance)
Yan! Twst Isekai AU
CW/TW: the Mouse is Real™, graphic descriptions of bodily fluids/injuries, assault and kidnapping
◇ Continue
[Loading…]
“..llo?"
"Hello?"
"Hellooo?”
Out of the wispy fog comes a familiar voice. It echoes on and on, fading into a whisper. The tenure worms into your brain as you struggle back into consciousness. And as your eyes open and focus, your brain finally recognizes who is calling out.
“...Mickey?” You respond quietly in disbelief. “Mickey!”
“[First]!” The reunion, however unexpected, is still relieving. You never thought you would be so happy to see the cartoony mouse again. But…
“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, huh?” He chirps, walking up to your side. “I’ve been trying all sorts of things to get here, even trying to change my pajamas before sleeping too, heh…”
“So…this is a dream?” You ask hesitantly. Mickey smiles up at you, unaware of your inner turmoil.
“Must be! This is quite unexpected, I usually only see your head and shoulders, not your whole body.”
That makes sense, in a way. Only white nothingness surrounds you. Although you two are striding forward in a sense of strolling, you can’t make heads or tails on whether you’re actually walking somewhere.
“Normally I’d ask to take your picture but I don’t have my special camera.” You wryly smile in response. Did you succeed with your plan? Interactions with Mickey was usually out of the player’s hands…did you force a connection when you caused a game over?
“That’s a right shame. I was so looking forward to it since you mentioned it last visit.” Mickey sighs with a playful pout. It then changes to something more somber as he gazes up at you.
“[First], I’m glad to have met you again, but be careful.” You stop in your tracks at the warning.
“I sensed some dark aura around you when we first met. It’s gotten even stronger this time.” Mickey explains, worried eyes examining you. “Please be careful.”
“Wh-what do you mean…?” Your mouth runs dry. Something prickles in the back of your head, and to your panic, the vision of Mickey starts fading away, images blurring.
“M…time….up….watch…” his last words hover in the air as you frantically reach out to him.
“M-Mickey?!” You fumble around, trying to reach out to him, but come up with air.
“Damn it!” You scream, impatient rage blinding your sight.
Just when you’re so close to getting an answer out of this damn game! You just wanted to go home! Was that such a sin?
The prickling in your head grows stronger and you grow lightheaded, collapsing in on yourself. You look up to see a bright glowing menu.
[True Ending has not been unlocked]
>⬛⬛⬛⬛ Key has not been obtained.
>Continue?
–
[Loading…]
Your cheeks feel sticky.
It feels so gross. The smell of iron and rust floods your nose and makes your eyes fly open. Your fingernails scrape the substance as you push yourself off the cold floor. When you hold it up to your bleary eyes, you can see blood and dirt flaking under your nails. Your entire front is also soaked in blood and saliva. The disgusting sight makes you cringe.
The ground underneath your body shakes. You regard the pool of blood, tears, and snot underneath you with a gaze not fully aware. You’re… in Twisted Wonderland?
Screaming? There’s people yelling somewhere, and it’s making your head hurt. You groan, raising your dirtied hand to steady your forehead.
What happened…?
"Easy, Trickster." A warm voice envelopes your ear. Suddenly, the scent of mint and petrichor overtakes your senses. Verdant green eyes peer down at you with relief.
“R…Rook?” The voice that comes out of you doesn’t feel like you. Someone else speaking in your body, like a ventriloquist. “H-How…?”
“[First]!” Grim flings himself into your face, adding to the pool of snot and mucus. It’s okay though. You hug him tightly, curling in on yourself, trying to absorb the warmth Grim gives.
The others come and swarm you; trying to check in on you, but you don’t respond to their numerous worried inquiries, drained of all your energy. Something catches your ear though.
“Oh, we were so worried! When Neige told us you got accidentally poisoned, we couldn’t take you to the infirmary right away–thank Seven Rook was there!” Kalim clasps your hands tenderly, not minding the gross slew of fluids getting on his hands.
Poisoned? How was I poisoned…?
A knife sharp pain slices through your brain when you try to recall what happened. You were with Neige…and then? Everything after that was all coming out as static noise.
“Prefect.”
You know who it is without looking. What a sight. How could Vil Schoenheit look this disheveled? Blonde greasy hair that is out of place, skin hollowed and pale with scratches, and bloodshot lavender eyes. He looks worse than you on death’s door.
"Vil…?" You gaze at him with empty confusion, unsure of why your heart drops at the sight of him. "Did…did something happen?"
Vil's eyes narrow but then close in resignation. Epel takes over, eyes wide in earnest. "Vil had an overblot, so we had to wrangle him back to normal."
Overblot…right…that's what supposed to happen, right?
Why…was that supposed to happen?
"Forgive me, Trickster. If only I had reached there faster with Monsieur Al-Asim…" Rook hums, surprisingly sincere. "Roi du Poison's madness and obsession…even when he had overblotted…how wonderfully beautiful it all was. The ink swirling around him, his stature…"
You shiver as his gaze rakes into yours.
"But, mon amour, you must not do that again, oui?" He leans in, lips ghosting over your ear and your blood freezes. What does he…?
"What a fine mess this is. What are we going to do now?" Ace drawls, eyes scanning behind him. Your eyes follow where he's looking and wince at the now destroyed colosseum. Debris and rocks flung everywhere, banners ripped to shreds, and electronics fried beyond repair.
For some reason, you feel calm despite the scene before you. As if…
"Well, well, if this isn't a sight."
Malleus.
Nothing registers until his gaze falls on you, and you swear his eyes glow for a fraction of a second.
"What have we here?" The question echoes and everyone looks nervously around at each other. “I arrive early to find not a single person and a stage laid to waste.”
You can only muster a sheepish grin in response. That's right. Malleus could fix this all up in a flash, no problem.
“Hornton, thank goodness you’re here!” Dried blood cracks on the edges of your smiling lips. “We could really use some help-”
“HORNTON?” You wince at the cacophonous pitch of everyone yelling. Rook is tactful enough to shield your ears but it only did so much to keep your eardrums from ringing. While Grim realizes who Hornton is, everyone else is flustered, attempting to explain the weight of his identity to the two of you.
You don’t need it though. His magic is enough of a demonstration as he winds back time and repairs the stage in moments. With that, the NRC group’s spirit and morale is renewed and once again, they’re raring to prove themselves to RSA.
The only thing that didn’t change is you.
Malleus gingerly carries you in his arms while Grim worriedly looks up at you. While they were reluctant to continue without you, even they were not foolish enough to let you go without urgent medical treatment.
You managed to stay conscious long enough to hear Malleus talking with the school medics and Grim muttering about stones before the dull ache in your throat and stomach forced you into an uneasy slumber.
–
The vestiges of a strange dream about mice and keys linger in your mind as you blink away the sleep in your eyes.
Evening has fallen, the only light coming from the dim lanterns the office has set up for patients. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can make out silhouettes of curtains and several items on the table near you.
Snacks from Ace and Deuce, herbal medicine from Vil, and colorful flowers by Kalim (you’re sure Jamil was the reason why it was not mountains of flower bouquets). The gestures are enough to make you weakly smile before it drops into a frown.
You turn to scan the room, and find no signs of life.
Did Grim leave?
An uneasiness begins to settle in your chest and you try to quash it. Maybe he just went to use the bathroom. Or if the staff made him leave, maybe he returned to Ramshackle. Anxiety begins to creep through your mind as the seconds tick by on the clock above the doorway.
Screw it.
You slip off the duvet covers and although the feeling of cold tiles on your bare feet is almost enough to make you give up, you push through and leave the room in the direction of Ramshackle.
Soon, the familiar sight of the Seven’s statues come into the horizon and cobblestones turn into granite tiles underneath your feet. Something makes you pause, however. Like a feeling of deja vu, you wonder why you feel like you’ve been in this situation before.
A growl shakes through the underbrush and you whirl to see the devil tips of a tail thrashing through leaves. Your heart jumps to your throat.
Grim!
The next thing you see is glowing blue eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth and dripping black saliva. You stumble back partially in disgust at the sight and partially from fear. What happened to your friend?!
“Grrr…mine…you can’t…” His words are hardly decipherable, making you furrow your eyebrows in concern.
“Grim!”
He’s already descended into a rabid, feral monster. Your calls only anger him, and his eyes thin into needle thin slits. He bares his teeth again and you steel yourself.
Letting out a guttural roar, he pounces and you narrowly dodge and avoid getting shredded by jagged claws.
You will not lose your friend here. You can’t. Not when–
A fleeting vision flashed in your mind: pitch black ink surrounding your feet, before finally flowing away and hardening into a condensed mass. Your head immediately is wracked in red hot spasms, causing you to keel over in pain. What is…
Unfortunately, this leaves you open to Grim’s next strike, and his attack throws both of you off balance. The impact sends you into the grass and it’s only when your back hits a tree trunk that you shriek out loud. Your fragile medical gown is torn through by his claws, leaving bloody gashes upon your midsection.
The excruciating pain is enough for feverish tears to run down your cheeks and your vision to start blurring as Grim growls again, no doubt readying to finish what he started.
“G-Grim…”
Your vision darkens, and your world goes silent.
–
A heart wrenching scream rouses you awake.
“[FIRST]!!”
The sound of whistling wind blows in your ears and instinctively you shiver. As your eyes blearily crack open, a gray figure comes into focus.
Grim is hunched over you, shaking your body with tears in his eyes. The both of you seem to be…flying? What?
“Subject F and Y secured. Waiting for other units’ reports.” A cold robotic voice drones above you. You force your head up and see a tall robot donning armor and wielding a formidable looking oar like weapon. As your eyes adjusted against the strong breeze, you realized you and Grim were trapped in a steel cage.
In the distance, your ears faintly pick up explosions and deep rumbling.
“[FIRST]?!”
Both you and Grim turn to see Ace and Deuce gaping up at you from the forest floor below. You open your mouth, but your voice doesn’t come out.
“All targets have been secured. All units fall back and return.”
“No!” Grim yowls. “My henchman, they’re hurt! Someone, help–!!”
But his screeching goes unheeded by your stoney captors. And although you swear you hear familiar voices calling back, the robots are undeterred and whisk you both away easily.
The last thing you see is the shattered ruins of a barrier and a school left in burned pieces.
255 notes
·
View notes
Text
yan! reiner braun hcs
i can’t get enough of this man.
cws: yandere themes, slight worshipper themes, the two of you initially met as scouts, aot season 4 spoilers, spoilers in general, kidnapping, kinda all or nothing thinking, some pathetic reiner crumbs bc i love seeing him pathetic, can kinda be perceived as having some form of a personality disorder, forced starvation and dehydration, kinda dehumanization, slight housewife (gn though) vibes but he just wants you to be productive.
— yan! reiner braun who initially fell in love with you during your time in the scouts. he was absolutely enamored with you. you, with all your flaws and rough edges, have single-handedly made it infinitely harder for him to complete his mission.
— yan! reiner who loves when you tend to his wounds. it makes him feel more human, settling further into the delusion that he had always been a paradisian.
— yan! reiner who is constantly hovering around you after he’s come to terms with his feelings. he has to protect you… no, he needs to. no one can protect you but him.
— yan! reiner who ensures that you’re left with someone he knows will protect you when he has to carry out the phases of his mission before leaving to do so. reiner will also immediately look for you when he’s finished, checking you for injuries— big or small, he’ll patch them up with furrowed brows and a firm expression.
— yan! reiner who is a little creepy… and overbearing. when you’re training, he’s training you to protect yourself in a more efficient way. when you’re eating, he’s making sure you eat good, going as far as to give you a portion of his rations. when you have free time, he’s always itching to spend time with you. you almost never have a moment to yourself unless levi has you stationed elsewhere.
— yan! reiner who feels the need to protect you because he’s witness just how bad this world really is. he is the bad… but he can be everything you need if you’ll let him. he needs to be your everything.
— yan! reiner who values your opinion more than his own. he needs your validation and approval and kindness. he feels like a piece of shit already and he knows that you’ll hate him when he completes the final stage of his plan, but god does he need you. he needs you more than he needs air.
— yan! reiner who takes you back to his homeland. whether you’re screaming profanities at him, kicking or screaming, crying or begging for him to let you go… it’s futile in the end. he needs you. he can’t guarantee your protection if he’s away from you. he can’t live without you; you’re his rock.
— yan! reiner who pulls some strings to get you citizenship in marley. shortly after, the two of you are wed. naturally, his family and friends don’t attend since you’re a filthy island devil, but it’s enough for him to finally be marrying you.
— yan! reiner who will never touch you in any way you don’t want him to. he will always respect your bodily autonomy seeing as he already hates himself and views himself as a monster. he wouldn’t want to be even worse of a person to you. as for punishments… well, that’s a different ballgame.
— yan! reiner who, in a fit of anger, would scream at you. he’s done everything for you! he provides for you, he keeps you safe and well-fed, he has never touched you in any sexual manner (unless you’ve given him explicit consent)— he keeps you healthy and safe and you’ll never have to work again! but if you’ve been ungrateful and have been refusing his efforts, unfortunately he wont be able to be the man you want him to be.
— yan! reiner who corners you, roughly jerking you up by your hair and locking you in the basement. he’ll tell you that you can come out once you’ve learned your lesson. he’ll deliver the absolute bare minimum. a bucket to use the bathroom in, stale bread, and a glass of water every three days. how long you stay down there is up to you.
— yan! reiner who will slump against the basement door and sob. he feels awful, but he knows he can’t let you out. he can’t let you walk all over him. it’s even worse that he’s confirming your already terrible view on him.
— yan! reiner who grovels at your feet for forgiveness when you’re finally out of the basement. he’ll bathe you and murmur constant apologies, all while crying about how awful he feels about it. he’ll brush your hair out, wincing as you flinch, and turn around while you dress yourself.
— yan! reiner who will whip up a tasty meal for you, and if you’re unresponsive, feed you himself. he needs to make sure you’re getting the nutrients you need.
— yan! reiner who, if you lost a noticeable amount of weight while in the basement, gazes at you sadly. he’ll go out and purchase supplements for you to take while you recover and insist you stay in bed while he takes care of all the housework.
— yan! reiner who requires you to do things while he’s gone. he at least wants a warm meal when he comes home, and if the house isn’t in disarray it’s acceptable for him. he’ll help you with chores when he gets home— even if he’s exhausted and ready to collapse. he doesn’t want to place too much pressure on you, but he doesn’t want you succumbing to depression.
— yan! reiner who will press a kiss to your temple, forehead, or cheeks. if he’s feeling bold enough, he’ll press a chaste kiss to your lips.
— yan! reiner who will hold you sooo close to him when it’s time for bed. he needs to feel you against him because it helps him sleep. you bring him peace.
— yan! reiner who absolutely has to have physical contact with you when you accompany him to meet with the other warriors. he has to stake his claim. he has to make it known that you’re his, even if the silver band on your left hand speaks volumes.
— yan! reiner who absolutely adores you. he praises you every moment he can. he needs you to understand why he fell in love with you, how lovely you are, and how much he loves you.
— yan! reiner who just wants to love you and be loved in return. he feels like an asshole for ripping you away from everything you’ve ever known but he needs you.
#male yandere#tw yandere#personal headcanon#reiner headcanons#reiner x reader#yandere reiner#aot reiner#reiner snk#reiner aot#snk reiner#attack on titan reiner#reiner braun#reiner x you#yandere reiner braun#yandere aot x reader#yandere aot#yandere attack on titan#yandere snk#yandere x you#yandere imagines#reiner braun headcanons#yandere reiner hcs#yandere aot headcanons#yandere reiner braun hcs
182 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
thewestbrooksfanpage
Westbrooks Fan Page
fluorescentwolf
Fluorescent Wolf
ilovemdma
Sad and Beautiful World
virulentgenius
neat visual
jmmasimm-blog
Jemma Simmons