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toastedjeans · 9 months ago

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Siren Tower AU!

I wanna keep this more on the silly side, but here's the basic gist of it.

There's a huge tower submerged in the ocean where many sirens and other sea creatures have found a home, and somehow humans have discovered it. They want to study and explore this tower, and the sirens are NOT happy about it, not wanting their home to be potentially destroyed. Pretty reasonable. But now, this random middle aged pizza baker somehow gets roped into this whole mess.

And here's the characters! (I tried to keep their heights accurate but idk if i succeeded)

And down there is some more info about everyone!

HUMANS (and Brick)

Peppino

He still has his pizzeria, but it's located a little closer to town. While business is slightly better than in game, he still has debts. But hey, he has his own apartment!! No more sleeping in the back of the pizzeria or on the floor!!

Peppino will sometimes just come to the shore or the port in the evening or at night to clear his head or be alone with his thoughts. Depressed guy. Will sometimes talk to himself when he thinks he's alone. He isn't necessarily afraid of the ocean, but because he can't swim, once he's in water the fear kicks in and he starts panicking.

He doesn't believe in sirens, mermaids, or other such creatures. Thinks they're just made up to tell scary stories of the sea. Jokes on him, he's about to meet the jolliest shark gnome man he's ever seen.

Brick

A gigantic rat that lives with Peppino, who didn't get a say in this. Just appeared one day, and no matter how many times Peppino tries to get rid of him, Brick always comes back. After a while Pep reluctantly accepts him and sometimes even takes him for a walk.

Brick actually loves to swim, but doesn't stay in the water for too long cause Pep won't join him. Like, he'll just leave if Brick stays too long. Kinda rude if you ask me.

Mr. Stick

Tax and debt collector, and a friend of Peppino. He often comes over for a pizza, then proceeds not to eat much, and rarely pays (he either says he's deducting it from Pep's debts or he lets someone else pay). He's kind of a piece of shit but outside of the whole money business he can be pretty nice.

He strikes me as a gambler tbh, either he's extremely lucky or extremely unlucky. Likes playing poker, and invites Peppino and Hazel to play after work from time to time.

Doesn't believe in sirens, but if he ever saw one he'd try to exploit it for money. He wouldn't kill it or anything though, mainly because he's too weak and he doesn't know how to handle guns.

Noisette / Hazel

She runs a little cafe near Peppino's pizzeria, and is good friends with him, but can sometimes be a little annoying. They hang out after work from time to time. When she notices that Peppino is having a rough day, she'll sometimes bring over a free cup of coffee or a slice of cake for him. Sometimes experiments with... interesting... food combinations, which are strangely popular.

She has loved mermaids and sirens since she was young and is very fond of them. Once she discovers they're real, she becomes even more fascinated and obsessed with them. You better believe she wanted to be a mermaid when she was young.

SIRENS

Gustavo

A little round shark man who is perfect in every way. He's curious and adventurous, and even though sirens and humans are enemies since, uh. A long time. He doesn't believe that humans are inherently evil. He'll help out whenever and however he can, but can get very aggressive when his friends or brethren are threatened. You will regret it if you anger him.

Noise annoys him often but they don't harm each other. He isn't really friends with Noise, but he will defend him if he's threatened or attacked.

One day he saves Peppino from drowning, which makes other sirens sceptical of him, especially those who think humans are evil. He will later try to learn human language to be able to communicate with Peppino better.

Noise

Goblin shark. He can theoretically go on land for a bit, but needs some water nearby. He's a little sceptical about humans, but not outright hostile. He likes annoying pretty much everyone, especially Peppino once they meet (he thinks his reactions are funny).

He throws sea urchins and pufferfish at others like bombs, as he (like most sirens) is immune to their poison / venom. While he's usually an unhinged gremlin, he just about melts when with Hazel. But of course he tries to hide this from others.

Fake Peppino

Created by Pizzahead from DNA of frogs, newts, and Peppino (obviously). He was meant to be a weapon for sirens against humans, and thus is supposed to be hostile. Unfortunately, he turned out to be extremely affectionate, and he loves hugs. Much like Gustavo, when friends are attacked, he can get downright deadly. He can also regenerate body parts like an axolotl, unless his brain has been damaged. Like, you can rip both his arms off and they'll grow back within a day.

He becomes close friends with Gustavo, and is kind of fascinated by Peppino (other humans too, but mostly Peppino). He would play in the water with Brick once they meet, and become friends with Hazel. Can go on land as well, but prefers the water. He communicates with croaks, gurgles and other noises, and can speak very limited human language (very few fractions of words or sentences, it just sounds like gibberish), taught to him by Pizzahead.

Pepperman

Lumpfish (idk either just roll with it). He's kind of indifferent to humans, but he does think he's better than them. I could see him making a brush or something out of seaweed to draw. And then always getting upset that his drawings never stay cause of the water, but he keeps drawing anyway. Blames Noise for destroying his art even if he knows it's the water (Noise thinks it's funny). "Borrows" seaweed from Vigi's farm to make new brushes. But he'll also make statues out of various rocks and other things he finds laying around. Mostly of himself. Some humans think they're built from ancient civilizations, while others think it's some sort of elaborate hoax. Nobody recognizes Pepperman's talent :(

Vigilante

Sea slug. He genuinely believes humans want to kill sirens for nefarious reasons, possibly cause he's a little older i guess. Hands just appear when he needs them.

He has an underwater equivalent of a farm (like, he grows and tends to seaweeds, anemones, corals, etc), that he inherited from his grandpa. He'd love to just tend to the farm all day, but feels obligated to punish anyone who does wrong. Unofficial officer / sheriff of the sea. He still has his cowboy hat because i said so let me be silly on main.

Pizzahead

Ribbon eel. He can give others a little shock as if he had like a hand shocker thing. It mostly just hurts a bit and isn't lethal cause cartoon logic. He does not like humans, but mostly because he grew up with everyone around him telling him they're evil. Actually he's very curious and fascinated by humans, which is why he decided to clone Peppino. Mostly cause he sees him the most on the shore. Somehow. How he actually got his DNA is a mystery.

Later on he decides / attempts to make Fakey into a weapon after witnessing how strong Peppino is. He obsessively learns human language and tries to understand as much about human culture as he can. But he'll twist things around and tell others that he does it to "better understand their weaknesses". Right.

Pizzaface

Stingray. The leader of sirens in the elusive Siren Tower. He HATES humans, especially after some divers discovered the tower and continuously come there to explore. Basically just doesn't want his and his fellow sirens' home discovered or threatened. He's disappointed in Pizzahead because he taught himself human language, even after given an explanation (or excuse).

SPECULATION CORNER

Aka characters i can't quite figure out what to do with yet

Burton

A whale shark bc I can't get enough of sharks apparently. Sharks are cool okay

Alternative: just Mr. Stick's husband who sometimes comes with him to Peppino's

Gerome

A sentient rock and John's older brother, who always took care of him and helped him with the tower. Now just does maintenance and keeps John company.

Alternative: Peppino's janitor, but still made of rock because that's silly

John

A sentient rock that used to carry the tower around through the oceans but somehow got cursed and is now part of the foundation and can't move anymore. Was he a siren before? Or just a pillar? Or maybe a fish made of stone? We don't know.

#pizza tower #pizza tower au #Siren Tower AU #peppino spaghetti #gustavo pizza tower #brick pizza tower #mr. stick #the noise #noisette #fake peppino #pepperman #the vigilante #pizzahead #pizzaface #toasted art #it's finally done #i hate being so slow with drawing but hey #to the three people who liked this idea. hope you enjoy #to everyone else. hello look at this silly fish thing

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riuhere · 2 years ago

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*Walks in and slides this through before walking out again and dissappearing

@alblog-journal24 Hi! I'm totally not the person who asked for your Tumblr on wattpad so uhh here- hope you like it!!

Ps. Here's the link to the first chapter of the fanfic I've been reading. Its really beautiful btw (I'd recommend you to read it because it had me kicking my feet up in the air while giggling like a maniac at 1 AM)

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magsterdragster · 2 months ago

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This took so much longer than it should've...

But it's done!

Click image for better quality ‼️

On the turtles 15th birthday, they were finally allowed to go topside for the first time!

Or... was that the first time?

Leo seems upset...

#it's finally done #anyone interested in lore?#magsterdragster's turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt fan iteration #raphael tmnt #donatello tmnt #leonardo tmnt #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt splinter

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ataraxiaspainting · 1 year ago

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Hier Encore IV.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

[Hier Encore III.]

Synopsis: Yorknew Police Department Headquarters, 1995, April 10th. You are a director of public safety. The Phantom Troupe attacks the headquarters and takes you under the guise of a hostage situation. Even when the ransom is paid, you are never returned and assumed to be dead. After thirteen months of captivity, in 1996, on May 9th, you escape and try to learn how to live again somewhere far away from your captor. The payment of freedom comes with a steep cost, one that stains your hands so much that even if you drown them in bleach, the stain will remain there for the rest of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectively, not SFW implications, misogynistic undertones (not from Chrollo), unhealthy relationships, manipulation o’clock, body transformation (not on the reader), references to religion, violence/gore, minor character death, and stalking.

Word Count: 5.9k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

4:00 A.M. by Taeko Onuki

My Girlfriend Is a Witch by October Country

Michelle by Sir Chloe

Sonne by Rammstein

Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Venus Fly Trap by MARINA

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

cult leader by KiNG MALA

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez

“She looked like a vixen, and that’s what she was; she had all the instincts of a female fox. She was the proverbial predatory female. She had what she wanted, now, and she was content. There was just the getting completely away with it that counted.” – Gil Brewer, Sin for Me

iv. “I must be cruel, only to be kind.”

“Greetings.”

One emotion comes after another on Sebastian's face: confusion, fear, distrust, and many more.

“Hello.” His voice is tight. “Do you need something?” He asks, putting his hands on the doorframe as a precaution.

“I have just come to ask you a few questions.” Chrollo answers, his voice as calm and collected as always. He isn’t even looking at Sebaste, his focus is placed on the inside of the cottage. He knows that you are here.

“Like what?” Sebaste asks, his body tensing up.

“My dear, come out.” He calls out to you, his voice as soft as it usually is.

“I’m sorry?” Sebaste questions, his shoulders strained upwards. “I’m right here.”

Chrollo pays him no mind, instead still looking over Sebastian's shoulder. He hums, looking at one object in the living room at a time. The black sofa by the television was old with the bottom left corner of it torn, white stuffing no longer being covered there in that spot. The carpet below Sebastian’s feet, the colors fading because of age. The creaky poplar floorboards. The pots of plants where the kitchen’s checkered tiles and the living room’s wooden planks meet, where you are hiding. Your eyes meet and his eyes are as empty as ever, perhaps even emptier, like black holes in the ground that aim to swallow you whole.

“Come out, my love.” He repeats himself, his tone sickeningly sweet to the point of mockery.

“Excuse me?” Sebaste asks, his voice slightly cracking.

“Dearest.” His gaze is still on you. It is intense and you feel a pressure on your neck like you are being strangled by him. You can’t breathe.

“I’m here.” Sebaste moves his hands downwards on the doorframe. “I’m right here.” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m right here. Don’t ignore me.” He’s upset.

“Hmm.” He leans in slightly. “She hasn’t told you anything, has she?”

You can see Sebastian's feet through the leaves of the tall plants take a step or two back at Chrollo’s question. “What?”

He still is not making eye contact with Sebaste. “Honestly, I expected that you would have left her by now, or at the very least be on your knees begging for mercy from me. Little liar.” Once more, a gentle hum escapes his lips as he leans in, drawing himself nearer. “But that is alright.”

Sebastian's feet move backward yet again. “What?” He knows. “Hello? What are you talking about?”

Remaining composed, Chrollo gradually advances towards Sebaste. “My dear, aren’t you going to greet me? I missed you.”

As an innate response to his words, your muscles contract, causing your entire body to become rigid.

“Come on out,” Chrollo continues, his smile getting wider. “We haven’t seen each other for more than a year. It feels like a millennia since I saw you last. My heart still beats for you, though, and always will.”

“Leave,” You finally say, your voice almost as shaky as you are. “Go away.”

Sebaste and Chrollo are now both looking at you, but their gazes are different. Chrollo looks at you like a hunter looks at a slain doe or rabbit they are about to eat, while Sebaste looks at you with confusion and fear, for he knows what you are; a liar. “Come closer. Let me see you.”

You shake your head from side to side until your neck cramps and you feel slightly dizzy. “Leave, go away.” You repeat, your voice still shuddering.

“I would take you more seriously if your voice was not quivering, beloved.” You can perceive the mocking tone in his voice. “I want to see your beautiful face not covered by the foliage of a dying plant.” His smile is getting bigger and bigger by the second, you swear to yourself. “Come on now.”

Once more, you vigorously shake your head, refusing to comply. “Leave.”

Sebaste continues to call out, desperately trying to catch his attention, but he remains unfazed, humming to himself. Fear is evident in his expression and the urgency of his voice. Concern grips you, for both Sebaste and yourself.

“Come closer, please. Come greet me.”

You squirm behind the tall plant. “No, go away, leave.”

“I won’t.” His smile fades as he looks down at Sebastian's arms still holding onto the doorframe like it was their lifeline. It is actually, you realize.

Sebastian's face contorts into a frown, while he straightens his posture even further, assuming a defensive stance. “If all you are going to do is bother my girlfriend and not talk to me, you have to leave.”

“No.” Sebaste is finally acknowledged by him, but this time his voice lacks warmth, sounding firm and icy. “Step aside.”

The urge to run engulfs you. You want to run into the forest. You want to run until your feet bleed and your ankles are twisted and bruised.

“Why would I do that?” Sebaste hisses angrily. “Leave. All you are doing is being a creep to my girlfriend. Leave or I’ll call the police. Now.”

Chrollo simply leans in closer to Sebastian's ear. “Step aside. Please.”

Sebaste scowls. “Leave. Now.”

Run, run, run. Despite your determination to hold your ground, you start to relent under Chrollo's unrelenting gaze, eventually taking a step forward as instructed. “Ah, that’s better. Good.” As Chrollo's stare intensifies, you find yourself averting your gaze towards the ground, towards your bare feet. “Look at you, my poor thing. You have nothing more to say, don’t you?” He coos like a parent watching their baby take their first steps.

“I’m calling the police.”

Sebaste delves into the depths of his hoodie pocket, where his phone resides, leaving a portion of the doorway unguarded by his arm. The urge to plead with Sebaste, to convey the futility of it all, arises within you. However, you find yourself incapable of doing so.

In one swift motion, Chrollo grabs the cell phone away from Sebastian’s hand and throws it on the ground, a loud smashing sound reaching your ears. It’s only more pronounced by a boot stomping and crushing it like it was some sort of bug.

“Come closer, dearest.” He says, and your feet move, your mind compliant. You move closer and closer, until you are a few feet behind Sebaste, who looks both fearful and confused.

“Call the police,” Sebaste tells you, the stress in his voice is more than obvious.

You just stare, emptily. There is no point in running over to the kitchen to grab your phone, because Chrollo is quick and thus would run quicker, quicker than you ever could. You, poor you, would fall in vain in the Spider’s hunt for the fly that made it out of the web alive.

“Call the police. [First], call the police.” You would love to appear as a saint, but bright crimson stains your hands and eats at your very being. The floorboards creak and crack beneath you as you walk closer and you hope that the planks will simply break and let you fall into an infinite void where you will never be sentenced for your crimes.

“My lady of sorrows, as beautiful as ever.”

You should have hidden your tracks better.

“Call the police, [First].” You should have watched out for any targets on your back.

You should have watched out more for the eyes looking at you in the night because you only caught one pair. “Your love is like a warm summer’s day, and it will always be mine, all mine.”

You wanted a normal human life. You wanted a normal human death.

But you are caught in the Spider’s web and encased in silk yet again, so you can’t have either of those things. Now, all that you can have that you want is to cry.

“Call the police.” Sebastian's trembling voice echoes once more, filled with fear. Desperate to find solace, he reaches out for your hand, only to be met with the unexpected rejection of a slap.

You’re so stupid. So, so stupid. Your brain feels numb like it is rotting away inside of you, slowly but surely.

“Call the police. [First]. Go get your phone and call the police.”

“All I want is to hold you in my arms and know that you are mine.” You hold everything Chrollo has ever said to you inside of you where your heart used to be. It weighs you down more than a broken heart ever would.

“[First]. Call the police. What’s wrong?”

The world is now monochrome once more. You feel the place where warmth used to be within you. But now all there is is ashes. There is nothing but ashes. Your lungs hurt from all the filth.

“Stop it.” Disgusting, you are disgusting, Chrollo is disgusting.

You wanted to see the whole world. But you are now back to being trapped in the spider’s web and you cannot do any of those things now. A butterfly with a hole in its wing caught in its web.

“What’s wrong? Call the police. Go. Now.” Disgusting. “[First]?” Disgusting. “[First], why aren’t you doing anything?”

“Stop it.” Your voice cracks like how you wanted the floorboards to. “Just stop it.”

“Go get your phone.” Sebaste continues, deaf to what you are trying to tell him. “Go. Now. Go.”

Your head hurts. Your stomach hurts. You want your pajamas on. You want to sleep. You wish you never ran away because now hell will be unleashed on Sebaste and you as punishment. You wish you would have just made a pit stop in this town and continued being on the move. You wish you were more tactical. You wish you had never been born at all. Disgusting. You’re so disgusting and stupid and tired.

You find yourself uttering every part of it, stammering through the words, pausing to catch your breath, pleading for Sebastian's survival, hoping to just return to whatever luxurious penthouse or hotel room Chrollo is currently staying at, imploring to have a private conversation with Chrollo about this matter in his car, away from Sebaste.

As soon as you finish begging for Sebastian's life and open your eyes, you see the book in Chrollo’s hand. With the realization of what is about to happen, tears finally fall from your eyes onto your bare feet.

The cry that escapes your lips is a unique one, unlike any other. It is choked, desperate, animalistic, raw, and undeniably genuine.

“Don’t! Please! Wait! Chrollo!”

Chrollo looks at you and you immediately shut up.

“What are you doing?” Sebaste asks, stepping away, his entire body shaking. “Answer me. What are you doing?”

Chrollo's gaze turns towards him, bearing a facial expression that ranks among the most dreadful you've ever witnessed.

He doesn’t respond with anything more than a hum and a quick turn of the pages.

You’re too afraid to speak.

You look at the floor and close your eyes again as you continue to cry.

You hate the book. He has never used it on you, but you know what it can do. Perhaps if Chrollo is in a good mood at the moment, Sebaste will merely have a curse placed upon him and he will go out the door with poor, wailing you, his grip on your wrist strong enough to almost break it.

A foolish thought, you remind yourself.

Chrollo wasn’t known for his mercy, after all.

Sebaste is as good as dead.

Perhaps he is even worse than dead.

He could be tortured. Starved, eaten alive, poisoned, or has all of his bones broken bit by bit.

You are scared to open your eyes. But you are also scared to have them remain closed.

As you look at what is in front of you and ignore the noises around you, you deprive yourself of any mercy.

It is what you deserve.

“[First]?”

“Don’t.”

“[First], what is happening?” Sebaste points to Chrollo with a look of pure fear, his eyes looking like they are about to burst from their sockets. “What is he talking about?”

“I said don’t. Just stop.”

Sebaste stops in his place, his body shaking so much it looks like he is about to fall. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” It is a genuine apology. “But speaking will only make the pain worse for both of us.”

Chrollo hums again and nods at you, still flipping through the pages. Engaging in acts of rebellion will only exacerbate the situation.

The book stops turning and Chrollo points to a page. “I found it.”

His words are barely audible, drowned out by the piercing cries of anguish. Flashing lights; magenta, red, teal, and black.

Sable scales are sprouting from Sebastian's alabaster skin, each one covered in blood and pierced flesh.

His scleras are a shade of light coral. His eyelids are getting smaller and smaller by the second.

His irises get darker, almost to the hue of ink, matching the scales that are all over his body covered in little bits of torn skin. His knees collapse on themselves as you stand still, looking with both disgust and fear. His elbows fold as his arms lessen in length, his hands bonding with his clavicles.

He is still screaming.

You want to tell him to stop, that there was no point. It’s already too late for either of you.

But you can’t.

You refuse to look at Chrollo, who is no doubt smiling at the horrifying tragedy unfolding in front of you two.

You just look at Sebaste with pitying, guilty eyes.

He does not look at you.

You deserve it, and he deserves to at least have that choice in the matter.

Whatever Chrollo is doing to him, there is no doubt in your mind that you deserve at least twice as bad of a fate.

But you don’t fear death. Not anymore. You know Chrollo does not plan to kill you, that death is not in the cards he is holding. He would never let go of his favorite toy. So, you fear the unknown. You fear whatever harrowing methods Chrollo is going to use on you. There is no doubt that they will be far more psychological than physical.

You sit and stay, like a good dog does, even though every fiber of your being is telling you to run out the back door and into the forest. So, you wait. You wait until he is done. You won’t speak or move unless you are told to. You give up all control and pretend to want to be dragged by a leash instead. You hide your true feelings behind a mask and not overplay your hand. That is how you become a dog.

Good girl.

Chrollo takes out a few Polaroid photographs from his suit pocket and lays them out on the table. One of them is the gore-stained walls of James’ apartment, his lower half the only part that is still whole. The second is Victor’s collapsed, untouched body on the wooden floorboards. The third is of your stalker’s rotting corpse in your abandoned shed, his head lowered and his partially gouged eyes swinging in the cool breeze. You can’t pretend to be better anymore. You can’t hide what you have done anymore. He knows.

You reach for the photos, grabbing them off the table then crumble them into balls, tearing them apart into shreds and watching them fall onto the ground.

Chrollo doesn’t stop you. He simply stares at the torn pieces that lay at your bare feet. He hums. It’s the most horrific sound you have ever heard. It is a mix of hilarity and hunger. When he smiles, his teeth look like a shark's. They are razorlike and look sharp enough to cut flesh, though they appear the same as yours. Although his appearance may deceive others into perceiving him as angelic, you are aware that he is anything but, just like yourself.

He knows. He knows.

Chrollo takes a step forward toward you but stops abruptly. He hums again. He looks upward towards your face and you make eye contact. Your brain starts screaming signals to run.

He knows of the lies that are the foundation of the makeup used to cover your hideous, real face. He knows of your sticky, sticky red hands, stained with crimson sin. He knows of the devil that lurks within the deepest confines of your heart. He knows that no exorcism or priest would be able to get rid of it. He knows that it will stay inside you until your last breath. He knows of the hidden transgressions within your soul, the deeds you committed to survive. The actions you took to elevate yourself above all others and everything else in this world.

He knows everything. He knows what you have done.

The stars twinkle no more. The moon has lost its luster. The night sky has broken apart. You cannot hide your wrongdoings from the scorching beams of the sun. Your skin burns. Everything hurts.

He knows.

He looks down at you like he is a king. Arrogant. Tenacious. He is not even a star to you. He is less than the small pieces of meteorites floating in the vast Milky Way, fading away more and more by the second. This life was too good to be true. You have failed and as a result, you have lost everything.

You cover your head with your arms and run, tackling Chrollo to the ground. He falls onto the kitchen floor with a hard thump. You punch him, but your knuckle hurts as you do so, Chrollo’s face like an iron wall. You yelp in pain and withdraw your fist, using your other hand to pull out the knife from your sweatpants. You haven’t even made a dent into him, did he even feel anything?

Chrollo's laughter resonates as if he finds your actions incredibly amusing. He proceeds to articulate the harsh reality, a truth that is both unpleasant and acrid. “So, you were the one that committed those murders. As expected.”

No. No. No. No.

As you falter, Chrollo’s hands firmly grab the upper parts of your arms and push you off, the amount of power used being nearly enough to throw you against the glass cupboards of dishware and decorations. Instead, the back of your head collides with the wall next to the wooden back door, the paring knife flying out of your hand and landing a few inches away. A pained cry escapes your lips as your vision blurs for a second. He’s on top of you in an instant, his eyes dark and predatory, and your positions suddenly reversed.

The blade, you have to get it back.

As you try to reach out for it, Chrollo grabs your wrist with an abnormal amount of strength. “I wouldn’t pick that up if I were you. It would only prove a point for me.”

Run. Run. Run. You have to run, like a small child running up the stairs when the lights are off, fearing what could be lurking in the dark.

Life. Death. Free. Cage. Run.

No, this can’t be happening, this is just a bad dream.

“Struggle all you like, we both know how this will end.”

“Shut up. I’m not going anywhere–”

“You are. You will stay wherever I place you because I am not falling for your tricks a second time, my little witch.”

No. This is just a bad dream. You close your eyes and try to wake up, shaking your head and begging for Chrollo to be just a figment of your imagination. You try and try, but you can still feel the crushing feeling of Chrollo’s grip on your bruised wrist and the weight of his body on top of yours. This is real, and this is happening.

Your mind goes blank as you open your eyes, your body being directed by raw, pure fear. Your forehead crashes into Chrollo’s, making him back up a few centimeters and let go of your wrist. Your torso crawls toward the blade like an animal whose legs are caught under a boulder or a bear trap. Your elbows bend and you try to move forward. You are just about to grab the knife when there is a yanking of your hair backward. You holler out as your spine is twisted peculiarly, your upper body facing downwards towards the knife while your lower body is facing upwards towards Chrollo.

“Let go!”

“You certainly are stubborn.”

Your fist smacks him square in the jaw and he lets go. Your hand grips the knife, and you start swinging it around, blinded by emotion. You manage to cut into his right cheek as he spits out some blood from your punch. You try to gouge out one of his eyes, but his dexterity causes his head to duck just in time. Your body shakes with a mix of alarm and hate. You try to aim for the space between his eyes, but he grabs your wrist with one hand and your tricep with the other and starts twisting them in two different directions, making you wail. There is a sudden snap that is louder than your cries. You scream as you drop the knife and caress your broken arm. Chrollo grabs the blade and throws it far across the room.

Chrollo’s body seems to relax a little, so you kick him in the face and try to clamber away from him. His nose bleeds, but it does not look broken. You are as desperate as a doe trying to escape the bullets of a hunter’s shotgun.

Run. Run. Run.

“You’re not being good. You’re not being good at all.”

Run. Run.

With the last bits of strength you have, you withstand the agonizing pain in your arm and kick Chrollo in the stomach with both of your legs, so hard that even you wince. He backs up as he chokes on his saliva. Some of the blood from his nose jumps onto your face and you can taste the flavor of metal. He falls backward and hugs his abdomen. He is off of you at long last. For the quick moment he is in pain, you stand up quickly, clutching your unusable limb. You run as fast as you can towards the paring knife. You bend down and grab it in a rush of panic.

Run, rabbit. Run.

Chrollo pushes you down onto your stomach, your back facing him. He grabs your broken arm and pulls it, his foot on your spine to keep you there. It bends like rubber or bubblegum. You start to flail around like a fish out of water. You gasp for air as you cry out in pain. His other hand grabs the back of your head, raising it slightly before pushing it down hard onto the wooden planks. The life you have built for yourself, everything you have worked towards, the colorful, sweet world you have made, all shatters into splinters before your very eyes.

Picking pumpkins and apples to make decorations and cook into pies, harvesting sunflowers to put into glass vases around your cottage, going into the farmer’s market and smelling freshly roasted corn and baked goods, cookies, fried mushrooms, glazed yams, eggplant parmesan, learning to love someone for the first time.

It was all for nothing. It was all for nothing because Chrollo found you. Chrollo found you and enacted his revenge. You wail a strangled, desperate breath. A raw and real breath.

You stop struggling at long last, like a toy that has run out of power from its battery. All that fighting and you have hardly made him use his true strength.

You are weak. You cannot go anywhere. You are a rabbit with nowhere to run. Murder. Death. Theft. Crime. Manipulation. Love. Chrollo’s blood is still in your mouth and it’s bitter and dry, like you had just eaten sand in a desert or oceanless beach. It chokes you, both physically and mentally.

No.

The fish that used to be Sebaste looks up at the ceiling, lying on its side. An unblinking, wide eye. Dull. Cloudy. Empty. Unforgiving. Confused. Weak. Its corpse lays before you two and starts to stink like the back of a butcher’s shop.

I hate you.

That is what its eye tells you.

Traitor. Fool. Devil. Maneater. Tainted. Killer. Freak.

This is all your fault. Why did I have to die? Why are you still alive? You lied to me. You said you loved me. Liar.

Liar. Liar. Liar.

Pathetic.

Your feet are still cold.

If only you could have died too. If only you could have died beside him. You don’t want to die in whatever hotel room or penthouse Chrollo will shove you in, within four suffocating walls and soft sheets that cost more than your monthly rent. You don’t want to die there, you want to die anywhere else. You are not ready to die. Tunnel vision overtakes you, with only one objective in mind.

Just stay alive.

That is your one wish to the stars above.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

You are being burned alive by your desire to both live and die.

...

You don’t think before you do it.

You don’t try to stop yourself before, without any hesitation, your legs propel you forward, forcefully thrusting the backdoor open with your functioning arm. Anguish, fury, remorse, and sorrow engage in a fierce battle for dominance over your every move. As you dart deeper into the dark and densely packed forest behind your cottage, the only sounds you could hear are your own ragged breaths and pounding heart. It was as if the forest was trying to swallow you up, closing in with every passing step. No moonlight or stars pierced the thick layers of leaves and branches overhead.

The darkness is like a thick fog, blurring your sight and limiting your visibility. You could not see Chrollo behind you, but your instincts told you that he was. There was no hint of a breeze to take some of the edge off, with even the birds and chipmunks being completely silent.

The pain was excruciating. With every jostling step, your broken arm jolted around like a wooden toy, threatening to send you down to the ground any second as it kept getting caught in vines and hitting tree trunks. You could not afford to stop running.

You don’t see anyone following you.

Your feet are starting to bleed and leave a few red drops of blood with every rushed step you take. You don’t care about it because instinct has taken over your mind.

You trip over a large root on the ground and fall sideways right on your broken arm, making you scream from the intense pain shooting up. As you try to get up and caress your broken arm, you stumble downhill into a pile of dead leaves.

Your mouth is full of them, making you hardly able to breathe as you spit them out.

If it were any other time, you would have considered it funny.

But not now.

As you rise from the ground, your hand instinctively shields your mouth, preventing any inadvertent sound that may invite unwanted attention. The pursuit of Chrollo, if not already initiated, has undoubtedly commenced.

He’s after you. You know this. He came back into your newly rebuilt life and destroyed it right in front of your very eyes.

You know he can hear you, but you cannot hear him. You never know of his presence until he is too close, that is how it always has been. That is how it is now. Chrollo has forever possessed superior speed, strength, intelligence, attractiveness, and wealth, making it impossible for anyone to ever match his prowess, even if they desired to do so.

You hate him.

You hate him, and he’s here for you again.

No.

How did he even find you?

Hisoka promised.

He promised you that your location would be undiscovered.

He lied to you, didn’t he?

Maybe lying isn’t the exact word.

Maybe he technically did keep his promise, because the Troupe didn’t show up in a matter of a few hours.

Chrollo showed up in a matter of nearly twenty four.

Your gasps for air and silenced cries are paired with a call of your name.

“Oh, you poor thing. Scared half to death.”

His words are as soft as they are cruel.

“Mater Dolorosa.”

You force yourself onto your feet again to run, sensing the voice behind you up the hill getting louder and louder. But when you move to run, you wince in pain and look down at your swollen red ankle.

It is so dark that you can’t see anything aside from yourself, the world around you being painted monochrome by the black night sky’s palette.

There is nowhere to run, is there?

You have used up all of your luck getting this far, and have to pay the price.

You are out of time. You cannot dream of sweet escape anymore.

“Do you remember my touch? I touched you so sweetly. My darling girl.”

You would turn if you could, but the pain shooting out from your ankle prevents you doing so and almost makes you fall into the leaves again instead. “You took me away.”

Moving in a circular motion, Chrollo gradually positions himself in your line of sight, his imposing figure standing tall before you. “It is a thief’s nature. I could not resist the temptation to steal you.”

Chrollo is a prime illustration of the extreme measures some individuals are willing to take in order to have you in their embrace.

Your beauty has captivated every person you have encountered, evoking reverence from all. It is both a blessing and a curse, a double edged sword, both the thing that worships you and tortures you.

Your sweatpants are covered in dirt stains and pieces of dried grass and leaves, your hoodie in a similarly horrible condition. Your hair had come undone, cascading in delicate wisps that obscured your vision, reminiscent of a spider's delicate web. There is nowhere to hide.

“Oh, how I love you.” Chrollo smiles and the way it reaches his eyes makes you squirm more. “Shall I enumerate the reasons why?”

…

The car ride was silent for a while. You would have preferred it if it stayed that way. But Chrollo could never stay quiet for long, even if you asked nicely, so he turned the dial of the radio and began humming along. In all the months you were with him, the only constant presence in your otherwise bleak, depressing life.

The song he chose felt like yet another kick to the stomach. ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me. Of course he would play that.

As much as you hate doing so, you focus on the way your heart beats with each turn and bump along the road. He was calm, still so calm, even after this two year long escape. You are certain that this is the calm before the storm, and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down on you. More than what already had fallen.

To claim that you were on edge would be an understatement.

“Do you know what will happen now?”

With your heart pounding and mind consumed, you can't help but startle at his words, despite your readiness.

“...No.”

He lets out a small laugh, reducing the music's volume to a slightly muffled level.

It only makes you feel like you are about to go into cardiac arrest.

“You do, don’t you? You have always been a smart one.”

Your broken arm aches under the slight pressure of the seatbelt pressing against it, your ankle being only slightly cushioned by the insulated carpet beneath.

Chrollo has never hurt you before, aside from restraining you in the early days of your capture. Though, you know if you had blamed your ankle on him and told him, he would tell you it was your fault for running barefoot in the dark.

He hopefully will give you a brace or pillow for it when you both arrive back to wherever your temporary location is.

“My freedoms will be taken away.”

As he nods, a smile plays at the corners of his mouth, revealing a slightly sinister undertone that would easily deceive any unfamiliar observer.

“That is a start. But,” Pausing momentarily, he directs his gaze towards you, only to swiftly return his attention to the path that lies ahead. “What particularly? Give me an example, please.”

He is definitely planning something. Maybe you'll inquire about the source of his inquiry, or perhaps you'll force a trembling grin and pretend his question is nonsensical, aware that he's already aware of the freedoms you've gained during your time in confinement. Yet, he would persist then, and repeat his query. You could respond by acknowledging his authority to strip away any privilege he deems appropriate, a fact that both of you know to be true, but deep down, you understand that he desires a real, logical answer.

Whether this is a genuine question or something that will be used to mock you in a moment or two, you have no idea.

“A freedom like…” Your answer will probably be spawned into existence, making you wary of how to respond to his question, but you know you have to because you have no choice in this hell. “Like being able to move freely around.”

He only taps his fingers on the steering wheel in a melody unlike the one playing from the car’s speakers. “How so?” Welcome once again to the realm of eternal damnation.

You contemplate turning away from him and looking out the window instead. But that would cause you more physical pain from your arm moving against the car seat and more mental pain from you knowing you will not be able to go outside again for at least a while. That is, if you are ever allowed to go outside again. If you can ever escape again. He wants another answer. He is not satisfied. But, then again, when is he ever?

You don’t dare look away from him as he stares at you, not at the road, at you. You practically feel like your stomach is dropping out of your body and onto the insulated carpet, staining parts of it crimson red from the blood and a discolored version of its once licorice color from the stomach acid.

“Go on,” You could imagine the feeling of his fingers and yours intertwining and starting to squeeze your throat.

Thum, thum, thum. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun.

“...Restraints.” You wish you could just dissolve like seafoam in the sea. “I’m not sure which ones you want to use. The metal ones or silk ones most likely.” The sensation of suffocation creeps in, as if the air itself has turned putrid and malevolent, weighing heavily on your chest. Your vocal cords are raspy, resembling the aftermath of regurgitating and subjecting them to the corrosive effects of gastric acid. “Maybe gag me or tie my legs together too. Or both, it depends on if you are in a good mood right now or not, right?”

He nods slowly, never taking his eyes off of you. His gaze feels unsettling, for there is no trace of anger in his eyes, yet you can sense his fury.

“That is one, yes. What else do you think will happen when we get back, my dear?”

The road is empty. There are no deer or geese or ducks crossing, only you and Chrollo. Animals have always had better judgment of human character, after all.

You hope that the place you are going to at least has a nice view.

“Tell me.”

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muppenthings · 1 year ago

Text

An event that took place in mid 1700's. Gorm was summoned by the islander's ship as usual, but things took an unexpected turn. After this he didn't return to the surface for hundreds of years. Never understanding why they acted like that.

#Muppen draws #oc Gorm #giant merfolk #g/t #cw blood #cw injury #cw knife #cw tentacles #It's finally done #If the quality drops at the final page; I just wanted to finish it.#And there's a particular panel I also just gave the middle finger to. xD #If I ever draw another ship this year......#I have SO many things I want to tell you about this comic #but ... eh.#If there's any questions or anything is unclear ask me!#Gorm has absolutely no clue why they suddenly just got angry with him.#He really thought they were friends and then they just... slap him like that? Telling him to go away? Fine.#Away he went. He doesn't have concept of time passing either

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zelphin124 · 11 months ago

Text

DreamTale Short Story

This is the prize for the honorable mention, @cakesmelons from the SeasonTale Creative Challenge! Apologies it took so long to get to.

My writing commissions are still open! (If you can, please commission. I'm digging into emergency funds right now.)

Enjoy!

___________________________________

"He's not getting any better."

Killer paced outside the big black door, his hands squeezing his skull together. He was panicking, and he didn't know what to do.

Dust came out with a list of things the boss would need, but none of them were obtainable anytime soon.

Horror did his best to slave in the kitchen, but the boss would barely eat anything.

In fact, he had been sick for weeks. Nightmare couldn't get out of his bed without throwing a heap of coughs. The gang had never seen him like this before, and it worried them. It was so bad that all missions and plans were cancelled week after week. Even Killer started to get bored. But all of them were concerned for their boss.

"What are we going to do?" Horror was the most concerned about Nightmare out of the three. He barely ate and slept just like the boss, all to make sure he was okay.

"Nothing we have is working," Dust flipped through his list again. "Everything that we would need is out of stock in the AUs we've been to... we've stolen it all."

"So then we go to more AUs and get more medicine!" Killer hissed, stopping his pacing. "We find more of it, and give it to boss..."

"It's not working!" Horror cried. "He's just gotten worse..."

"We need blue bone fiber," Dust said. "But... no one has it."

"The last time I saw it was when we were fighting the Star Sanses," Killer sighed. "There's no way they would give some to us..."

There was a moment of silence as Nightmare hauled a dozen or so coughs that echoed inside his room. Each cough hurt the trio's souls worse and worse. Although Nightmare could sometimes be cruel and unnerving, he was still their boss... and he took them in and cared for them.

"What if they did give it to us?" Horror proposed.

Dust's face looked like he just got hit by a baseball bat. "The heck you mean, 'what if'? They would never!"

"They might," Horror argued. "This is Nightmare we are talking about... didn't Dream have some sort of attachment to him?"

"Duh, they're brothers," Killer rolled his eyes as his soul flickered. Black tears started to drip down his skull. "But that was like, 500 years ago-"

"But what if he still cared for Nightmare?" Horror continued. "Surely, we could convince him to give us some medicine to help his sick brother."

"And give away the info that he's deathly ill to our enemies? Are you out of your mind?!" Dust hissed, throwing his clipboard on the ground. "Think with your brain for once!"

Killer pulled on Dust's shoulder, holding him back. "Actually..." he put his phalanges to his chin. "We could... manipulate Dream."

"We've tried that before and it didn't work," Horror shook his head. "I say we tell him upfront we need his help."

"You two are insane," Dust pushed Killer away from him. "They. Would. Not. Help. Us."

"Dream tends to be more deceivable when Swap and Ink aren't with him..." Killer smirked. "And he goes to visit that weird stump often."

"Maybe we could catch him there..." Horror added. "And we should be honest with what we need."

"Eh, who needs honesty when we have knives?" Killer smirked, pulling one out of his pocket and twirling it before walking away. "Come on, I'm sure he'll be there tonight!"

Dust's head bellowed with smoke coming out of it before he shouted in frustration, following after Killer. He seemed to be in an argument with himself again, despite him claiming it was his brother.

Horror sighed, hoping beyond hope that this would work. He creaked open the door to his boss' chambers.

Nightmare's eyes were glazed over as he stared at the ceiling. His hands were properly folded across his chest, and he looked unnaturally gray. He didn't have enough energy to sit up when he coughed, which slowly suffocated him. Thankfully, Killer sat him up earlier when he was asleep, but it only helped a little.

Horror mouthed some comforting words to his boss and to himself before he closed the door and bounded after the others. This has to work... his chest ached with anxiety. I don't know what I would do if it doesn't...

* * *

The gentle ray of sunshine looked so dim in the dark clouds. His light wasn't as bright when he stared at the stump in a forgotten land. Oftentimes, he would mutter words unbeknownst to anyone else. Sometimes, onlookers could catch him crying.

Dust had difficulty keeping Killer quiet as they sneaked up to Dream. It took everything in Killer to not giggle from excitement. The grin on his face was one of a girl getting to buy her favorite doll.

Dust hated it.

Horror thought it was amusing.

The more Killer smiled and laughed, the most Dust threatened to push him out in the open, away from the bushes. Horror encouraged Dust not to. They were close to sneaking up on Dream. One wrong move, and their plans might be screwed.

"I'm sorry, mother," The voice of Dream stopped them in their tracks. Expect for Killer's giggling. Apparently, everything was funny to him.

"I am doing my best to protect the balance, but it's hard..." Dream sighed. "People don't have hope anymore, and it weakens me..."

Before Horror could stop Dust, he pushed the laughing Sans out into the open, cursing at him.

Dream spun around, wiping his face as he observed Killer. His eyes widened, and he summoned his bow.

"Woah woah woah," Killer glared at Dust in the bushes before slowly approaching the ray of sunshine. "No need to shoot that, I'm not here to fight."

"Then what are you here to do, Killer?" Dream glared, extending his bow with each step Killer took.

"Hey can we not just talk? Not everything's gotta be about fighting ya know?" Killer bowed playfully, one of his hands gripping a knife behind him. "It's not like I'm going-"

"What do you want, Killer?"

Killer shrugged and sighed like a kid before standing up straight. "I know you still care about your brother."

Dream's grip on his bow loosened. He seemed taken aback. "W-What do you mean?"

"Come on now, I know you still spare him in battles. I see how you fight him; I see how you hold back."

"He's taking too long..." Dust whispered. "We need that blue bone fiber fast... Nightmare skipped his other medicine."

Horror shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should go up and be honest, unlike Killer's stalling.

"It doesn't matter if I hold back or not," Dream sighed. "I still will stop you!"

"If you wanted to stop us, you would have already," Killer shrugged. "Now, I've come to make an offer. One that... I don't think you can refuse."

"What offer is he talking about?" Dust hissed.

Horror shrugged. He too, had no idea.

Dream glanced over at the bushes where Dust and Horror were hiding. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he lowered his bow. "What... offer?"

"Tell you what, Dreamy," Killer took another step up the hill. "How about we end this lil war of ours? Let's make a deal, and neither of us have to suffer."

"What's the catch?" Dream asked.

Horror couldn't wait any longer, Killer was taking too long. He sprang up from the bush and ran over to where Killer was. "We need blue bone fiber!"

Dream took a step back in surprise, before narrowing his eyes at the two. "Let me guess, Dust is with you too?"

"Idiots," Dust hissed as he casually trailed behind.

Dream shook his head and backed away. "Nuh uh, I ain't getting ambushed by you three-"

"We are not here to fight, Dream," Horror sighed. "Nightmare is sick... very sick... it's why you haven't seen us."

"We need the blue bone fiber to heal him, stat." Dust added.

Horror watched the conflicting emotions swirl in the sunshine's eyes. So he does still care, huh.

"That... makes sense," Dream whispered.

"I was getting there, guys!" Killer rolled his eyes. "I was striking a deal!"

"Nightmare wouldn't agree to a deal without his permission!" Dust barked.

"To save his life, he might!"

"That's not-"

"Boys," Dream interrupted them. "Look, I understand the dire of your situation. I can give Nightmare the blue bone fiber that I have... on one condition."

"Anything," Horror answered before the others could speak.

"I will go give him the fiber."

"Ain't no way," Dust shook his head. "Boss would not be happy about that."

Killer laughed. "So, you can kill him with your positivity?"

"I wouldn't kill him," Dream sighed. "I just... wish to see him again. If he's not so busy trying to kill me... maybe he will just hear me out..."

"You can give it to him," Horror answered. "Anything to save his life."

Dream stared at Horror for a long time before he smiled softly. "I'm glad he has you guys. You care about him... You risked coming to me to save him, it shows a lot. Thank you for... taking care of him all this time."

"Oh whatever," Dust sighed. "Can you give him the blue bone fiber already?"

"I will go grab it, and I'll meet you at the castle." Dream replied.

"Well hurry up," Dust hissed as he dragged Killer by the arm. "Your brother doesn't have long."

* * *

"He's in there."

Dream nodded softly before following Horror into Nightmare's room. The sunshine winced as he came in direct contact with negativity. It didn't slow his pace, however. He had a mission to save his brother, regardless if the murder trio liked it or not.

Nightmare's hands shook as Dream got closer. "What... are you... doing here..."

Horror found it intriguing that Dream remained silent as he crushed the blue bone fiber in the bowl. He sat on the edge of the bed and slowly fed it to Nightmare, the negative unable to resist.

"What did you... do..."

"Blue bone fiber," Dream answered his brother. "It will heal you within the next two days or so."

Boss seemed bewildered, and his eyes barely opened as he glanced at Dream. "W... why?"

"I..." Dream paused, wiping his teary eyes again. "I don't want to fight anymore. I miss my brother... I just want to have peace with you..."

Nightmare's breath was shaky as he tried to swallow the remaining fiber. "You... missed me?"

"I've always missed you," Dream sighed. "I never liked fighting you. I just did so you would stop killing people..."

"I..."

"But that doesn't matter right now," Dream continued. "I want you to get better, and I want you to recover and be okay. I care about you..."

Horror watched as Nightmare's weak hand barely touched Dream's.

"... I... care about you... too..."

Dream had to hold in his positive feelings of reassurance and resolution as he grasped Nightmare's hand. "I'll be here for you, brother."

Nightmare coughed again. "Go... now..."

Dream nodded and squeezed his brother's hand one more time before stepping towards the door, Horror following close behind. He couldn't help but notice a small smile on his boss' face before shutting the door. He sighed softly as he glanced at Dream. "Thank you, I don't know how to repay you."

The widest smile covered Dream's face as he brushed his arms and cried happy tears for the first time in a while.

"No, thank you."

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