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indycinders · 11 hours ago

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day 4, fic 4, COMPLETED 😤

S A C R I F I C E :: 30 Fics in 30 Days

8560 / 30000 words. 29% done!

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

This challenge is something I made based off the 30k November challenge. I plan on writing one short story per day every day of November, and since I know I'll probably blow past the 30k mark, I changed the name.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

"Sacrifice" is a story about sisterly love, and the lengths one sister will do for the others. It's also a story about needing to recognize your boundaries.

It is also, in part, a small fanfic since it features the character Viktor from @yga-vn, an upcoming dark horror/romance visual novel by @kuruchyo.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

WC: 2,286 :: CW: I don't think there are any, but there's a demon, so lmao.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

“Ugh, Nova, you always take everything from me!”

Verity’s shrill voice carried through the corridor, ringing in the ears of the housemaids as she shouted at her older sister. Ariadne flinched and sighed softly from the sitting room just a few feet away from the main hall where her sister’s were arguing. She was the middle one of the three of them, the beautiful and sought after Greywind sisters from House Greywind. A family name as old as time itself and the very definition of “old money family”.

The short woman stood up, pulling the velvet purple cloak tight around her shoulders again and setting down her book. Just one evening of quiet is all I asked for… her thoughts were bitter as she went to find her sisters.

Nova was standing with her hand on her hip, her other hand holding a bag high out of Verity’s reach. Nova’s impressive height was something she used to her advantage often. Verity’s face was flushed red in anger and she looked like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, the way she was stopping her foot and crossing her arms.

When her gray eyes spotted Ariadne’s form, she stomped over and grabbed her older sister’s wrist and tugged on it, pointing at Nova. “Ariii,” Verity whined, using her doe-like eyes to plead with the short woman. “Nova stole my new clutch.”

“I did not!” Nova said fiercely. “I just bought this one, today.”

“Since when have you ever had a lick of fashion sense?!” Verity shot back.

Ariadne wanted to smack both of them upside the head for being so loud and disruptive. They knew better. It was quiet hours in the manor, for their father suffered chronic migraines in the evening. “Both of you knock it off, now!” she snapped quietly.

Both sisters straightened up and looked at her with apologetic expressions. “Sorry,” Nova mumbled, looking down and fidgeting with the zipper on the bag.

“Yeah, me too,” Verity said, letting go of her arm and sighing.

Ariadne ushered them both to sit on the couch, herself taking a seat between them. “Verity, when was the last time you saw your purse?” she asked.

“A week ago when I went out with that Scarsbee man,” Verity said, brushing back her short pale blue hair. “I came home and went to my room and left it on my vanity table and haven’t been able to find it ever since.”

Ariadne turned to Nova then, whose long indigo waves were drawn like a curtain around her features. “Nova, do you have the receipt for the bag you bought today?”

“Of course I do,” she snorted, opening the bag and pulling out a slip of white paper. She handed it to the middle sister, who looked it over.

“Mm, yeah, Verity,” she showed the receipt to her. “The date of sale is listed as today. This bag isn’t yours.”

Verity’s gray eyes squinted at the receipt, as if trying to find hints of forgery or tampering. Then she let out a long-suffering groan and fell back against the couch. “Okay, fine! But that still doesn’t solve my issue.”

“Your issue is that you’re a lawless spoiled brat,” Nova muttered, earning herself a painful nudge in the ribs by Ariadne.

“Enough, both of you. Nova, why don’t you go find something to do? I’ll help Ver find her purse.”

“Fine by me. Oh, and when you have the time, could you call the Dorsby house and let him know I’m not attending his banquet tonight?” Nova stood, pulling her own black cloak around herself and walking away without another word.

Ariadne reached up and rubbed her temple for a few seconds before turning to her younger sister. “Come on, let’s go to your room.”

…

“I’ve looked everywhere, Ari, it’s just not here!” Verity was whining again a few minutes later as she threw herself on her bed.

Ariadne ignored the younger woman’s whining and searched the area where her vanity table sat. “If you let the maids come in here, you’d be more organized and could find things better,” she chided. “Look at this mess on the table. You’re wasting makeup by letting it spill out everywhere!”

Verity just hugged a cylindrical pillow and pouted.

The middle sister’s keen yellow eyes swept over the surface, her hands picking through the items, checking behind and underneath things. When it was clear that the bag wasn’t in the heaping pile of feminine products, she checked the drawer. She thought it was ironic how clean and spotless the empty drawer was compared to the surface of the vanity.

She stood back a moment, planting her hands on her hips and glancing around the area. Her eye caught the glint of a gold chain slung over the mirror and disappeared behind it. As she walked up to it, she thought she’d caught a glimpse of a pair of glowing purple eyes in the mirror, hiding in the shadows of Verity’s bed canopy. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards and when she blinked, the eyes were gone.

Ariadne grabbed the thick gold chain, pulling it off the mirror. Lo and behold, on the other end of it was the exact bag the woman had been looking for. With one hand remaining on her hip, she turned and gave her sister a look. “It’s been here the whole time, Ver,” she said.

Verity’s face flushed in embarrassment, her pout lingering as her gray eyes flicked away. “Guess I forgot I changed the strap…” she mumbled.

Ari sighed and rolled her eyes, slinging the bag forward and tossing it onto the bed. “Use your brain next time. You know you’re not supposed to get Nova all worked up like that,” she chastised. “Come to me if you need help.”

Verity finally sat up on the bed and held the purse in her hands, fiddling with the zipper. Despite how often her sisters were at each other’s throats, the resemblance between them was plain as day to anyone else but them. It still shocked Ariadne when Verity would display the same little quirks Nova often had.

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “I’m sorry I made a scene.”

Ariadne’s expression softened. She walked over to the young woman and reached out with slender fingers, preening her hair and brushing it to the side. Something she always did out of habit, ever since they were young. She was the middle sister, the one that had to look after her younger sister since Nova made it very clear she wasn’t going to. But Nova had always been that way, and not in a selfish sense. She just couldn’t care for other people as well as Ariadne did.

And that was fine with Ari. She loved taking care of and helping her sisters, even if it was mentally and sometimes physically exhausting, always having to be the middle woman, the messenger, the one that smoothed things over. “Don’t worry about it,” she pulled her hand away. “I need to go take care of Nova’s thing now.”

“You’re always so helpful, you know?” Verity’s fond tone carried out the door after Ariadne had left.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

“Yes… Mr. Dorsby? Good evening,” Ariadne stood at the manor’s house phone, twirling her finger around the chord. Her parents were always fond of vintage aesthetics and this rotary phone that still worked even now, in 2024, was a favorite item of theirs. “It’s Ariadne Greywind from House Greywind calling.”

“Ah, Miss Greywind. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” Mr. Dorsby was a middle-aged man with average looks and a wealth that almost rivaled theirs.

“I regret to inform you that Nova will not be attending your banquet this evening,” she said. “She’s down with an illness tonight.”

There was a heavy sigh that breathed in her ear, and she knew what was coming next. “What a shame… I was looking forward to having one of the prestigious Greywind daughters. I even bragged about it to my friends, you know. I planned a wonderful evening for her.”

Ariadne’s lower eyelid twitched, and she pursed her lips. “I do sincerely apologize, Mr. Dorsby. Perhaps-“

“Say, are you doing anything tonight?” he asked suddenly.

She slumped against the wall, “… I am not.”

“Why don’t you come in her place? You said you’re Ariadne, right? The middle daughter?”

“Yes, that’s correct, Mr. Dorsby.”

“Join me. I’ll have my driver come pick you up in, oh, say… Two hours? Is that plenty of time for you to get ready, Miss Greywind?” Dorsby’s voice sounded delighted.

Ariadne pinched the bridge of her nose, “That’s plenty of time. Thank you, Mr. Dorsby. I’ll see you in two hours’ time, then.”

“See you soon, dear.”

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

It was almost midnight by the time Ariadne was walking back up to House Greywind, her feet throbbing with pain and smelling like expensive colognes and cigar smoke. The banquet had been… alright, if not a bit stuffy. Many influential men and women were in attendance, and Ariadne herself was seated next to Mr. Dorsby the entire night. He had gotten loose-lipped and flattering with every scotch he drank as the night went on, but he was thirty years her senior.

She did her duties as best as she could, avoiding casual touches and questions with hidden implications. Not just from Mr. Dorsby, but from a whole slew of “eligible” bachelors that were in attendance. At the end of the night, when Dorsby had bid her farewell, he had expressed his appreciation for her attendance and apologized if anyone had made her uncomfortable, including himself.

Overall, it had been a good time, she thought. Not that she wanted to repeat the experience anytime soon, but she was glad she went in Nova’s place now. Nova wouldn’t have been able to stand so many people sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at a long table. At least with Ariadne there, she could continue to keep House Greywind’s reputation to high standards with her maturity and grace.

Once she was in her bedroom, she kicked off the heels that had been pinching her feet all night. She undressed completely and pulled on a pair of soft cotton pajamas. Ariadne sat at her vanity and removed the makeup she had applied earlier. Staring at herself in the mirror, with every swipe of the makeup wipe, she revealed pale patches that starkly contrasted her otherwise warm brown tone.

It’s not that she was ashamed of them, no. She only covered them up with makeup to avoid being stared at and being asked question after question of what afflicted her. It was Dorsby’s banquet, after all. Not Ariadne’s.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she told herself as she continued cleaning her face, frowning.

A little while later, she had turned out the lights and settled into her large plush bed, her yellow eyes glancing out her window. She could see a strip of night sky just barely, and she focused on that as her eyelids became heavier and heavier.

───⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰───

Some few minutes after she’d fallen asleep, she was woken up abruptly by feeling a presence plop onto her side and stomach, covering her legs as well. “Ari,” a voice whispered like smoke, wrapping around her and pulling her out of sleep. “Wake up, I’m lonely.”

Ariadne groaned and reached up to rub her eyes, shifting to lay on her back. The presence on top of her practically purred and laid its head on her soft stomach area. “Viktor?” she mumbled, blinking several times.

Those glowing purple eyes gazed up at her in an almost innocent manner, before flashing a set of pearly pointed teeth. “Mornin’, starshine,” he said.

She could see his tail lazily flicking back and forth beyond the purple horns on his head. Her hand went up to stroke through his dark tresses at the top of his head, being careful to not touch his horns. The action was instinctual at this point, since she’d done it so many nights before. “You couldn’t let me sleep a little longer?” she huffed quietly.

The demon pouted a little, “I was bored.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her lips, “You’re so troublesome, you know that?”

“Mm, I could be more troublesome if it’ll make you feel better,” he teased, lifting his head off her stomach and resting his cheek against one of his fists. He watched her expressions with those striking violet eyes of his.

“Don’t you dare,” she scolded lightly, a soft laugh escaping her.

He grinned again before speaking, “So, where’d you go tonight? I tried to follow but I lost the car you were in.”

His tail whipped through the air, smacking against the bed with a thump, indicating his frustration. Viktor had gotten… quite attached to her in the months after she’d finally caught him trying to torment her like a pest. He didn’t like not knowing where she was, or when she left her house.

Ariadne tugged on a strand of his hair lightly, making him out again. “I went to a banquet in Nova’s place,” she explained. “I didn’t get home until a little while ago.”

He wrinkled his nose in distaste, folding his hands over her stomach and resting his chin on them. His eyes looked away. “No wonder you smell funny,” he grumbled, still clearly displeased.

“I smell fine,” she protested, “I was too tired to bathe tonight.”

“Why couldn’t Nova go? Or that little brat of yours,” he huffed.

“Because Nova can’t handle large crowds, and that little brat—“ she tugged on his hair again, “—would probably embarrass us.”

“You’re always doing something to help out your sisters,” he looked at her then, his expression rather serious. “When do you ever do anything for yourself?”

Ariadne hummed softly. Her eyes traced over the similar light patches on his own skin. He had been the only one she’d ever seen like herself before. Maybe that was part of the reason she put up with his presence. After all, not many people would welcome a demon to come back every night. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a few beats.

Viktor’s tail lashed again, angrier this time. “You’re going to burn out one of these days, you know? And who’s going to help you, then?”

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. Instead, she sighed and looked away. “I’m fine…” she didn’t even sound convincing.

Her hand was still playing with his hair, and his tail came up to wrap around her wrist, pulling her hand away. He pinned it to the bed as he suddenly lifted himself up onto his hands, hovering over her now, his face just above hers. “You’re not fine,” he murmured. “I can see it in your face. You’re tired and wearing thin.”

She clenched her jaw for a moment, before relaxing and meeting his eyes once more. “I’ll… try to not be…” she trailed off again, struggling to find a suitable word.

“A pushover? A doormat?”

Her eyes narrowed before she rolled them, “Compliant.”

Viktor hummed thoughtfully in response, settling his taller frame on top of hers. His clawed hand came up to brush through her hair as he looked down at her, only inches away from her. “I can find other ways for you to fill that… need to ‘comply’, as you put it,” he teased, his other hand stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Ariadne laughed softly, her face heating up with his implication, “You’re too much sometimes.”

He placed a soft kiss on her chin, trailing them along her jawline. She let out a relaxed sigh this time, a soft hum of her own emitting from her lips. “On the contrary,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her cheek, taking in her sweet scent of jasmine and shea butter. “I like to think I’m just what you need, my little lamb.”

“Little lamb?”

“Mm. Because you can’t stop sacrificing yourself for those ungrateful sisters of yours.”

“… and here I thought you were just being cute.”

Another wicked grin from him as he lifted his head and nuzzled his nose against hers. “I’m also being that,” he added.

His tail had let her wrist go finally, and Ariadne drew her hands up, wrapping them around his neck. She pulled him closer in an embrace, hiding her face against his shoulder. “I promise I’ll try harder to be less of a pushover,” she whispered, her tone almost vulnerable.

“Sweet lamb,” he crooned softly, and suddenly he had her pulled against his side, laying on his back with her nestled into him. “I’ll take care of you since you can’t be bothered to do it yourself.”

“How do you make that sound so sweet and infuriating at the same time?” she huffed as she snuggled up to him more, almost clinging onto him at this point.

“It’s just one of my charms, darling,” he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Sleep now.”

“Mm,” she hummed, resting her head on his warm chest and letting herself be lulled to sleep by the soft touches of his hand stroking through her hair.

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indycinders · 2 days ago

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heavy warnings on this one uvu proceed with caution

A B U S E love? :: 30 Fics in 30 Days

5694 / 30000 words. 19% done!

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"Abuse" is a story about a hopeless situation. It's meant to be an inside look to my character, Cyprian, a complex individual with severe mental health issues due to the trauma he's faced in his life. This story is only one look into the multifaceted character he is, a particularly important and brutally honest look at that. I did my best not to make it too depressing and too descriptive, and I hope I did my boy justice. The additional characters in the story are part of the Sons of Night universe as well, even though Cyprian himself is not integrated into their stories much.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

WC: 1,184 :: CW: BIG WARNINGS for domestic abuse, domestic violence, captivity, graphic depictions of abuse

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His lips were cracked and dry as his tongue swept out to lick them in an effort to soothe the dryness. There was no use in the action, since he couldn’t remember when the last time he had any water was. Hours? Days?

People can’t survive long without water, right? It can’t have been that long.

He gasped as a new shock of pain surged through his shoulders and down his spine; the side effects of being strung up like skinned cattle in a meat locker. He could no longer feel his hands that were chained above his head. His toes were bloodied from scraping against the concrete, and his calf muscles burned with the strain of trying to ease the pain in his shoulders and upper arms.

If he let himself hang there, he was bound to dislocate something. He whimpered and groaned, the rattle of chains in the damp darkness ringing through his very soul. He couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open anymore.

He could smell the mustiness in the basement. Like a rotten, mildew-y smell, sickeningly sweet in all the wrong ways. All he could hear was the soft drip…

Drip…

… of some pipe leaking somewhere in the basement.

H I S basement.

The thought of the man he’d once called love brought an aching sensation to the pit of his stomach. It could have also been from the strain of hanging there day after day. How long has it been now?

He couldn’t see any light, nor hear any clock. Just the sound of the drops of water echoing out. Beating against his ears like he was a bat honing in on every tiny sound. There was no telling how long he’d been down here.

He didn’t remember what made H I M so mad in the first place. What did he do wrong? Where did it go so horribly wrong?

He knew where.

That night, at the park.

Va-

“No,” he croaked, swallowing and choking. The inability to even have that one relief sent him into a coughing spasm that clenched sore muscles and jostled him around on the chain.

He tried to still himself. If he made too much noise, then H E would stomp down the stairs and show him what it meant to be quiet. The coughing had also tugged at the ragged raw flesh of his back that had been split open by that fucking bamboo cane.

The same one he picked out for H I M on their first Christmas.

He let out a soft noise, and he couldn’t tell if it was a cry or a whimper or a scoff.

He wasn’t usually this aware. H E made sure to keep him hovering between reality and a high that he’d wished he never knew in the first place.

It was odd.

Something wasn’t right.

Drip…

A violent chill ran through him, causing the chains to rattle again. He tried to lift his head to give himself some relief from the burning tug of pain that was going from the back of his head down to his tailbone. There was a roaring in his ears that wouldn’t go away. His dull eyes were burning now, too.

Was he crying?

He didn’t know.

…

Something made him jostle suddenly, rattling the chains again and eliciting a pained cry from his arid throat. What? Why was he-? Did he pass out?

What woke him?

He blinked a few times, or at least he thought he did. He couldn’t tell anymore. It was like a fucked up sensory tank, being in complete blackness, no light or air movement aside from his own shallow pained breaths. Something was happening, he could feel it.

The roaring he heard earlier was gone. Instead, he could hear heavy thuds walking above him.

Clunk…

Every step rained down dust on his skin, making him itchy. Making the gaping wounds on his back protest loudly.

Suddenly-

“Cyprian? Cy, where the fuck are you, man?”

No- it couldn’t be.

Could it?

His breath stopped and he tried to still the slight clinking of the chains, willing himself to focus. He’d had audio hallucinations before, hell even visual ones. There was no way that his brother-

“Cyprian?!”

Cyprian’s breath left him in a rush and he cried out, “Cyrus! Cy—“

He could only manage that much before he was coughing again. Whatever strength he had hidden away, whatever reserve of defiance and rebellion he kept within himself, he channeled it now.

He let out a loud noise- a cry, a shout, a guttural wail, he wasn’t sure but he certainly bellowed it out loud enough for his brother to hear. The thudding he heard earlier—heavy boots on wooden floors as he realized now—suddenly became chaotic as whoever was above him frantically searched for a way below.

A rush of air washed over him as the door on top of the stairs opened. His eyes squinted at the light filtering in. He could hear more than one person quickly descending down into this eighth gate of hell he occupied. He was immediately blinded by a fluorescent light when one of the people flicked on the switch. Cyprian made a noise of discomfort, squeezing his eyes shut and hanging his head. He had no strength anymore to hold himself up.

“Sweet fuckin’ Mary-“

A gruff voice, familiar and vague, cried out.

He could only imagine what he looked like. “Everyone out ‘cept me and Jericho!” Cyrus’ voice barked out loudly as he approached his little brother.

More steps retreated to the upper floor again. Cyprian couldn’t do much but continue to hang there. He hadn’t realized the small noises of pain he was making, noises that shot through Cyrus’ heart and brought tears to his eyes. Tears he didn’t bother hiding as he fumbled around to find something to cover the young man with.

“Jericho, see if you c-can find some fuckin’ b-bolt cutters or somethin,” Cyrus mumbled as he located an old sheet. He approached Cyprian with it and wrapped it around his waist, covering him modestly. “Jesus, little brother… what the fuck happened?”

Cyrus’ whisper fell on deaf ears because Cyprian was once again unconscious. It took a few minutes, but soon he was holding Cyprian’s body, careful of the wounds on his back—the very ones that made him want to throw up, cry, and burn every fucking building in this city down.

A throat-ripping scream was pulled from Cyprian as he was brought back to consciousness from the sheer pain of his arms falling limply to his sides. It was the last thing the three men in the room heard as once again, he fell unconscious.

…

If there was anything that Cyprian really remembered that day, almost two years ago now, it was that as he fell into his brother’s arms for the first time in six years, a sense of relief washed over him. Not because he was finally free, finally rescued.

It was a sense of relief that he thought he’d finally died.

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