#CLIFF HANGER BWAH HAH HAH

[silbeni]

Ouch.

In which: Ryoma wakes up at Rohan's after a transformation. Everything hurts.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort. 99 percent hurt in this one oops.

Pairing: (TSKRLA) Inkspots (Ryoma/Rohan)

TW: Body horror. lots of pain talk. Mention of blood.

Part 1 of 3. Part 2 can be found here.

\\\something I've been thinking about over a couple of days...... trying to enjoy writing again waaaghhh. It's fun but I get embarrassed.

So I'm being brave .. here. Sort of pointless plot wise, mostly thinking about body horrors stuff. But it'll get somewhere interesting I hope! the next part will have some inkspots character moments. Perhaps an argument OOO... That remains to be seen. Anyway enjoy. Leaves. 🍃. I'll make some art for this eventually

Uncoiling from their slumber, Ryoma awoke to an immediate searing pain in their retinas. They became aware of the immense, overwhelming golden light surrounding them, - too painful to bear, even as they squeezed their eyes shut. They let out a reflexive groan, unknowingly alerting the person sitting nearby.

"You're awake."

They shelved the noise, occupied with the stinging world of red behind their eyelids. They brought their hands to their face in an attempt to shield their eyes from the visual assault. The action cascaded waves of soreness everywhere else on their body, but they persisted, trying to solve one pain at a time.

They rubbed the roundness of the offending organs and slowly but surely, they began to note an increasing coolness and another strange sensation- The feeling of thin, plasticky strips emerging beneath their eyelids. It was uncomfortable, but it was much preferred to the prior burning.

The small reprieve allowed them to strain and think about how they could've ended up like this. Gadzooks overreacted, took over, likely terrorized some people and crashed, hard. Rohan must've been involved somehow, since it felt very much like they were in his house.

They could tell, Gadzooks interference with their body granted them some sharper senses. They didn't know how to categorize it exactly. They could vaguely approximate their surroundings, and visualize it, but it wasn't sight. Perhaps an evolved offshoot of hearing or some kind of extra sensory perception?

Either way, they could tell that they were in Rohan's living room, laying on the couch, just as they could tell someone was standing a couple feet away from them. They were sure who it was, but just to be sure, they tasted the air, catching enough of a whiff to identify the mystery person.

A familiar essence filled their system. "...Rohan." They called, hoarsely. Speaking proved to be painful too. The attempt added their teeth, jaw and throat to the extensive list of aching body parts.

They tasted something else besides the air. Their dry mouth was marred with the strong taste of blood. They tried not to think if it was theirs, or someone else's.

"You were out for a couple of hours. How are you feeling?" They felt a soft impact, and an added weight on the couch. He was leaning on the arm rest nearest to them.

"Not... great." They were in too much discomfort to try and hide how they felt. It would be pointless, anyway.

They tried to get comfortable, but it was hard to when their body felt like one big bruise. They didn't know how they weren't torn to shreds whenever their insides became outsides. When their bones, knives, or whatever, poked out of their body through their skin-

...Or, how could they be so sure their skin was actually skin? When they tallied it up, how much of them was actually left? Ryoma ended up lying face down, burying their face into the couch cushions to drown out the barrage of incoming thoughts.

"Yeah, you look terrible." Taken back, they found some humor in his dry retort.

"Gee, thanks, Ro."

They pressed their face in deeper when they heard him emit a closed-mouthed chuckle in response.

The following moments were filled with peaceful quiet. Now that they weren't in acute pain, or in existential anguish—thanks to Rohan—they noticed the moist layer of towel beneath the blankets. Tomoko would do that too, at home, the last time they transformed. It soothed their bruising, while the blankets keep them from losing too much heat.

It was an usual sleep set-up, but they found themself drifting off with a placid smile on their lips. For a second, images of Phasmatodea flashed in the forefront of their mind. A Remulus Mikado, a Lamponius Portoricensis, and then–

Movement, the couch dipping and rising by a few centimetres.

Ryoma barely had time to register vanishing footsteps, rushing to get something out before he left the room. "You- You're leaving??" They asked, a bit faster and a bit louder than they intended.

He stood still. "I have to pick up a few things. I'll be back soon."

"...Okay."

With that, the front door swung shut with a distinct click, and Ryoma's heart sank with it. The ambient silence was no longer peaceful, and they seriously considered restoring their vision, as painful as it would be.

Mulling it over, they fashioned a cuccoon out of blankets, trying to find solace in the soft fibers. Parts of their skin, here and there, peeled away into shuddering slivers of film. As they curled further inwards, they felt something foreign slide up against their arm. They were about to scream until they realized just who it was.

"Ryoma! Ryo-ryoma!"

...