#Tw past vivisection

[pickleking8]

Adoption Isn’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be --- Chapter 3

Words: 1,132

Ao3 Link

Previous - Next - Masterpost

TW: references to past trauma/vivisection/and death (done to a minor)

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     Danny winced as he shifted in bed. The healing scar pulled on his skin, and it had started to itch. Ghosting his fingers over the makeshift bandages, he felt his way over the creases and wrinkles. He closed his eyes, hoping to see a comfortable field of darkness and to feel the lull of sleep, but all that approached him was green. That stupid neon green.

     Green, green, green everywhere! Slippery and disgustingly warm in that  that coated the table, reflecting the tinted lights that were glaring and cruel, flecks of green on the surgical blue of his parent’s gloves, just green everywhere. And it was all too bright.

     Danny’s eyes snapped open. He- he couldn’t. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this, he needed to get out, he needed to get away, he needed to get away from the grimy walls of the cheap hotel that seemed to be closing in on him all too quickly. 

     Danny flinched when he noticed the green light his eyes were giving off in his panic. It was a soft light, subtle, but much, much too green. Too neon. 

     Stupid color anyway, he thinks, shivering in the sudden chill that wafts over him when he throws the blankets off. He needs to get out. The floorboards creak as he makes his way across the room, glancing at Jazz, who was sleeping soundly in the bed. She looks tired, even in her sleep. Stressed, worried, upset. She’d been run ragged taking care of him the past week, not to mention the stress she’d been going through trying to make plans, trying to figure survival for them out… he’s sorry. 

     The hotel’s roof is surprisingly easy to access. The building has no alarms and barely any locked doors. Climbing the stairs winded him. He would have simply floated up, but the… incident had left him with little ectoplasm to spare; what he did have was going into keeping himself alive. No powers other than the barebones necessary could be used, meaning he had to climb the stairs like a normal person. He decided he didn’t like it. The night air was humid, but a light breeze still introduced a slight chill. Danny winced as his bare feet grated on the gravelly texture of the roof. He should have put on shoes. Sparing a glance over the edge of the roof, he shuddered, imagining what it would be like to have to deal with falling off a roof without his powers, and quickly snapping his gaze away from the edge. Nearing a secluded corner of the roof which hid behind a large air conditioning unit, Danny lowered himself with bated breath onto the precipice. Dangling his legs and kicking his feet, he leaned back onto his elbows and gazed at the few stars he could see in the cloud-ridden sky. They winked in and out of sight as the rain-laden clouds plodded past, but they remained. A steady fixture, something to be counted on. Persevering. Danny smiled. He liked stars. And so he stayed there, enjoying the way the air pulled on his feet as he swung them, feeling the breeze ruffle his hair, and keeping his gaze steadfastly on the sky. And it would be that unwavering gaze that was his undoing, for in his solitude, he quite terribly failed to notice Red Robin, who, at the moment, was in turn gazing slack-jawed back at Danny.

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     Tim had always admired the second Robin. Always looked up to him, respected him. He was an idol. He knew what he had looked like when he had died. And he knew that he was dead. He knew, without a doubt, that Jason was dead. So why, then, was what looked like a fifteen-year-old Jason Todd sitting on top of a roof of a shitty hotel. Swinging his legs and looking at the sky like he hadn’t a care in the world. Actually, scratch that.  He looked like he had several cares. Jason the kid winced when he brought up his arm to wipe his nose, and the hem of his too-small hoodie rode up to reveal dirtied bandages. 

     Tim’s breathing picked up. This couldn’t be Jason. This couldn’t. Jason was dead. Tim had seen his body, broken and drenched in bruises. And yet… this boy. Looking too much like Jason to be a coincidence. Wincing like he had a large wound on his chest. Something like an autopsy wound. Looking just a little too pale, too pallid to be on the safe end of healthy. Many evident bruises. It couldn’t be, and yet. Here he was. Here Jason was. 

     Tim had to tell the others. They would be ecstatic! Jason was alive. Somehow. They’d figure that part out later. But he was alive! Oh, just wait until he was back at the manor. Jason could have his room back! It wouldn’t sit empty anymore, serving only to remain silent under Bruce’s quiet gaze, a haunting monument to the lack of Jason. They didn’t bring it up. But it would be okay now! The room would no longer be silent! It would be okay. Yeah, it would be okay. 

     Calm down, Tim, he chided himself, It could be a clone. Or even just a doppelganger. It could be anyone (Or it could be Jason, a quiet part of himself whispered. It could be Jason again). He was broken out of his thoughts as the kid (Jason, it’s Jason) stirred. He shivered, as if he was just noticing the chill, and made to get up. He winced once more, bringing a hand to his chest this time, clutching it as if he was about to shatter. As luck would have it, as he turned to leave, his sleeve caught on one of the screws on the clunky AC unit. The boy (Jason) grimaced, annoyed, and yanked on his arm. He only succeeded in tearing his hoodie. Huffing, he simply walked away, steps light in a guard against the loose tarmac and hands stuffed firmly in the pockets of his hoodie. The door to the roof thudded closed, the sound resonating across the now empty rooftop. This was it. This was his chance! He could get Jason’s DNA off the sweatshirt scrap, he could prove his theory! 

     In no time at all, Red Robin was back on the ground with a little baggie containing the scrap securely in one of his many pockets. Heavy shoes pounding soundly against the street, he started running, eager. So very eager. In that, it was quite soon that he disappeared entirely from the flickering glow of the hotel’s neon sign, hungry tendrils of crackling light licking at his boots like a brilliant, dancing fire, and him leaving it to hum gratingly and alone in the night.

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Constructive criticism would be appreciated!

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Next - Masterpost

[sleepy-grav3]

The Moon Child - Part 1

Part 2

A/n: There's a bunch of batfam adoptions, let's switch it up a bit.

Summary Background info: Danny died fully to the GIW. His class noticed when Danny disappeared and think his parents killed him. The city now believes he lives among the stars. On the same day Danny died, however, the moon was smashed to bits and rained down asteroids into the ocean and land of Earth. The Lanterns replace it with a new moon. The ocean life believes that the moon's spirit will not like being replaced.

Tw: Bad parents, depression, dissociation, vivisection scars, past death, discrimination, angst, hurt/comfort

Danny is a full ghost and looks like a child because that's all his core can expend; Danny becomes a moon spirit. Aquaman/Arthur is the movie version, the fun upbeat guy, not the serious one.

The Moon Child Part 1 - Strong Beliefs Come to Life

When the moon was destroyed, the Lanterns had agreed to send over a new one to make sure the Earth didn't destroy itself without the Moon to guide the oceans. It wasn't difficult to get one, though it was a lot of paperwork.

But when it was done, the Justice League thought that was it. Batman, being the paranoid man he was, demanded those with cities near a beach and Aquaman to report regularly about any changes in the ocean with the new moon while he checks other things that would be affected by it. They didn't bother to argue, as their luck always had it that peace was never a lasting thing. So the extra precaution was fine, but they didn't think anything of it after a few weeks of nothing happening.

The ocean life thought otherwise. Unlike the beings on land, who worship the sun, the beings in the ocean believed in the moon. Legends, myths, and many beliefs surrounding the moon's corpse that had mostly fell in their waters had risen.

The Moon is not meant to be replaced

The Moon is not like the others

The Moon will believe we did not care

The Moon will return and haunt these waters

-

Cries echoed in the dark of night. Moonstones guided the way to the origin of said sobs that were as powerful as the sirens' voice. Yet what the sirens attracted was lust, not melancholy.

Those who followed them would begin to see a dim light grow brighter and brighter, but never irritate. Instead, it would bring a wave of sorrowful tranquility.

When they reached the origin, they would see a small child holding their tail that faded in solidity. Their hair as white as how the moon used to be. Their skin as pale as a human who had died in freezing temperatures. And their eyes a beautiful silver that matched the stones that trailed away from them.

They wore loose and poofy at the bottom pants that matched a dark night sky and a translucent veil that had constellations move around the dark blue fabric. His upper body was bare, and he covered it with the veil, which darkened when wrapped to shield his body from being seen. (think Egyptian dancer)

And that's when the creatures of the ocean had a realization. Their deity was too kind to exact revenge for the blasphemy. Their pain was not one to simply end in an instant.

The Moon has returned, and they are not angered.

They thought they were replaceable, disposable. As if they never mattered.

The Moon has returned to world that acted ungrateful for what they had done to protect it. To a world who simply replaced them for another.

They felt like all they did was for nothing. Like nothing they had done ever mattered in the end.

The Moon did not have a welcomed return. And they decided to express it alone, as if nobody would care to comfort them.

-

Arthur never believed in ghosts. Not until now as he gazed upon the spirit of the moon who had taken the form of a small child with a wisp for a tail and was crying moonstones.

The seafolk had all voiced their guilt on how they cursed at the humans and aliens, speaking how the spirit of the moon would enact their revenge. They felt guilty that they had ever thought their deity would ever stoop as low as those disgraceful humans. For their deity was kind. They were perfect. And they always looked after them when they could, even appearing in the day no matter how much strength it took.

The Ocean was meant to be the Moon's temple.

And as the King of the Ocean, it was his duty to take in the Moon and shelter them in their time of need.

"Child."

The child jumped, turning with wide, teary eyes at him. Arthur smiled gently.

"Greetings. I've heard that you've been here for a while now. It... it must've hurt badly."

The child seemed to have a flash of pain from the memory alone, tightening their arms around their wispy tail.

"What they did to you was unacceptable and inhumane. You were alive and looking after so many who could not save themselves."

More stones splashed into the water.

"You saved them, save everyone and they repaid that by hurting you. Killing you. Attempting to end you. It was a crime and yet... yet they got off light. It was a crime and they thought nothing of it."

The spirit relaxed, eyes gazing at him in disbelief and awe.

"I'm sorry we weren't able to save you. I'm sorry I couldn't prevent such a blasphemous act."

They smiled softly at him and let go of their tail, flying over to him.

"I'm still here." Their voice echoed. "I can still protect everyone."

Arthur took a breath and reached his hand out, placing it on the child's head.

"Please, let me do the protecting this time."

The child of the moon teared up once more, smile now shaky.

"Okay." They whispered. "I'll trust you."

And with that, the child shined just a bit more brightly before their form retreated into a spherical oval with the New Moon glyph floating inside. He cupped his hands together, letting the moonstone with the height of 2 quarters and the width and depth of 1 descend into them. Upon observation, he noticed the moon glyph shift to always present itself in the direction of those who gazed upon them.

"I have to report this to the league." Arthur thought, worried about what they'd do if they discover the spirit on their own.

-

Pain, that was all he felt. Even after his core had been carved and crushed, he still felt the excruciating agony of it. And now he revived again, feeling the aftershocks, the phantom pains.

His core was straining itself to even let him stay out of it, willing him to retreat. But he couldn't risk being found. He couldn't risk a curious person deciding to carve him again.

That was... until this man came. A hero, one that ruled over the oceans and seas, came to him and apologized for not saving him. someone who wasn't even close to him, who shouldn't have even known about him, had felt guilty about his death. And he stayed and he begged for him to come with him. He bled out the promise of safety. Of recognition. He... wanted to protect Danny.

A hero who protected the beings of his waters wanted to protect him, a ghost.

Danny was starting to think humans really were inferior to other beings. Be it aliens... or seafolk. Atlanteans. Ha! To think an Atlantean cared more about him, who was a half human and human ghost, than a human ever could.

It hurt.

It hurt to think about.

But it hurt more to try to reject it. So, he accepted that this stranger, this hero who probably didn't even believe he could exist, was willing to protect him like nobody ever had. Like nobody ever could. Like nobody ever would.

His core will be safe with him. He will be safe with him.

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A/n: Well... that was a thing. Poor Danny.... He was never actually acknowledged. But oh well. The next one's about him meeting the family and getting coddled.

Also, if you're thinking about the movie's Aquaman having a baby... well he's dead. Black Manta killed him through suffocation or whatever like the wiki says. So that's why he wasn't mentioned.

Part 2

[xysidhequeen]

New Ficlet

TW: Death, Murder, Blood, Experimentation, Vivisection, Dissociation, Child Abuse

RedredredredsomuchredsomuchBLOOD.

Danny backed away, hands shaking. His foot slipped on the blood mess on the floor. He went down, a keening whimper escaping him as the fall jolted his wounds. His hands went up to grab at his chest, at the gaping wound and flapping skin. He froze, looking at the dripping red liquid coating his hands and arms like gloves. 

His hands shook and he could feel a wail crawling up his throat. He didn't look up, didn't look at his…at Jack and Maddie at their…bodies. He killed them. They're dead. DEADdeaddeadhekilledthem. He didn't look at them. 

Some cold part of his mind whispered to him. The voice sounded like Jazz. And– oh Ancients what would she think? What would Sam and Tucker think? They'd hate him, surely. He couldn't–

Jazz's voice in his head spoke up over his spiraling thoughts. Calm and clinical and ordering him to get up, to wash his hands. To find bandages and fishing line to sew up his wounds before their were three dead bodies in this lab. 

Danny listened to Jazz's voice. She'd always been the smart one. She'd always known what to do. He stood on unsteady legs and limped to the sink in the lab, washing his hands in robotic motions, ignoring the pink water until it ran clear.

He gathered up the materials he needed, sitting on a clean stretch of ground where there was no blood mess. He stitched himself back together, not even feeling the pain of it. This was nothing compared to what his parents Jack and Maddie had done to him over the past week.

He closed up the Y shaped incision on his chest, closed up the deep, surgical cuts along his torso and arms. Covered them in spare ectoplasm lying around the lab, slathered it on like ointment on the chunks of flesh taken from his arms and legs. Then he wrapped them all in bandages. 

He stood again and mechanically gathered what he'd need, Jazz's voice in his head, a calming narrator telling him what step to take next. What to grab. All the ecto-dejectos after he'd taken one and injected it into himself, giving him the energy he'd need and kickstarting his healing. More bandages, all he could grab. Fishing line, needles. 

He climbed back up to his room, grabbing a worn duffle bag to shove it all in. He grabbed his phone, turned it off, and tossed it in. Clothes, the cash Sam had given him 'in case of an emergency', the thumb drive Tucker made that would grab all the data from the Fenton computers and wipe the rest. He grabbed clothes, roughly yanking off the ruined remains of his jumpsuit and tossing a hoodie and jeans on instead. His ectoplasm would replace it, eventually, but for now, he needed clothes. 

He didn't turn back into his human form. It didn't feel safe. It wouldn't survive with the injuries he currently had. No matter how tired he was.

He drifted through the house, Jazz's voice his only grounding anchor as he dipped in and out of rooms. Grabbed a few things from Jazz's room, some of the emergency supplies she had left. A med-kit, cash, his fake papers, and ID. They kept it in her room, just in case his parents found out and it went badly and they combed his room.

They found out. They found out. It went so much worse than he could ever imagine. Now they're dead, and he's a MONSTER.

He dropped into his parent's room, the static in his head nearly drowning out Jazz's voice. She screamed louder, though. She always had. He took a hesitant step. It felt like moving through molasses. Then another and another, forcing himself into the room of his parents, his victims, the Fentons. He moved as quickly as he could, barely touching anything except to grab his legal papers and the money his dad squirreled away because he didn't trust banks and thought they were controlled by ghosts.

"No one can be that soulless and not be a ghost, Danno!"

He left the room, slamming the door behind him so hard it cracked. He stopped in the kitchen next, grabbing whatever wasn't currently animated and attempting to stage a coup. It wasn't much. He tossed it into the bulging duffle, struggling to zip it closed. 

He paused at the stairs to the lab, the darkness yawning like a monster's maw. He wanted to run he wanted to never see it again. 

But Jazz's voice was louder than his fear, so he stepped back into the lab, his prison, his cage. Each step rang too loudly in the silent house. Finally, he was back, and he kept his eyes carefully averted from the… mess. From the stains on the ground and the lumps beside a metal table covered in green ectoplasm. 

He hurried to the computer, shoving the thumb drive in. Immediately, a screen popped up, denoting how long it would take to download. Danny kept his eyes locked on it, never blinking or moving as the bar slowly went up. 

When it reached a hundred, Danny ripped the thumb drive out and shoved it in the duffle, deep down into it. He took a deep breath and turned his head quickly to miss the…mess. He zeroed in on the portal and forced himself to walk to it, past it. He ripped a panel off, exposing a mess of wiring. 

Danny moved on autopilot, ripping wires and twisting them together. Turning h- Jack and Maddie's greatest invention into a ticking time bomb. 

He couldn't afford for anyone else to get into the Ghost Zone or for anyone to get out. He needed to hide the bodies evidence. He needed for all of the Fenton inventions to be gone. This would do it. It wouldn't be a massive explosion, but it would be enough to take out the house. 

Everyone would think he was dead.

Sam, Tucker and Jazz would think he was dead.

That would be for the best.

Better he die a hero to them than live as a monster.

Danny finished his work and stepped back, taking a deep breath he finally turned his head to look at Jack and Maddie. At their bodies. At his victims. He killed them. Him. He was the monster. 

The monster they made him.

Invisibility and intangibility washed over him in a cooling wave. He stumbled but held his legs, his core crying from the strain. He pushed past it. He forced himself up, up, up, and out of Fenton Works. 

He floated there, watched with a detatched type of curiosity as he mentally counted down the seconds until there was a rumble. Then the building just…crumpled in on itself. Imploding. 

Jazz was silent in his mind.

Danny didn't wait around for the emergency services to arrive. He turned his head and flew off. He wasn't sure where, exactly, until a memory tickled his brain. A memory of a little bird, a robin he remembered Sam saying. A ghost robin that used to warn him when new ghosts were coming or his parents were getting close. A robin who used to try to distract his rogues or tug Danny out of (or occasionally into danger if someone needed help) danger. 

A little robin that Danny used to just unload his woes and troubles onto because it felt like the bird could understand him. He always stayed to listen, at least. 

A little bird who had only ever spoken once, the last time Danny ever saw him.

"If you ever need to run, come to Gotham. It'll keep you safe."

Well. He had nowhere else to go. He might as well go to Gotham. No one would find one singular eighteen year old kid there. 

Danny turned his phone on, ignoring the hundreds of missed calls and texts, just long enough to see where Gotham was. Then he turned it off and started slowly flying in that direction, desperately hoping he got to Gotham before he passed out.

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Danny kept flying doggedly on, only pausing when he started leaking through his bandages and even then only stopping long enough to redo them in whatever bathroom he came across. He burned the old bandages once he was done, not willing to leave behind traces of his ectoplasm for someone to track him with. 

He ate while flying, shoving whatever he grabbed out of the bag into his mouth. The ecto-dejectos kept him going when his vision started to go dark at the edges. He couldn't pass out here. Not where it wasn't safe. He couldn't risk it. 

Danny had no idea when he'd feel safe again. Had no idea if Gotham would provide that safety, but it was the only hope he had. He had nowhere else to go. He couldn't go to the Zone, the portal was destroyed, and he couldn't risk trying to sneak past Vlad. He was too weak to open his own right now. Besides, if he came into the Zone this injured, then every ghost in a hundred mile radius would be on his ass, trying to finally End him and take the crown. 

No, the living realm wasn't safe, but it was safer than the Zone right now.

He just had to get to Gotham, find a safe place to lay low for a few weeks until he healed. Then he could vanish into the Zone. 

Danny kept flying, forcing his invisibility to stay up even when his core felt like it would shatter. He kept pushing and pushing. He stole a phone at one point. He couldn't risk turning his on again and having Tucker trace the signal.

He didn't spend time wondering why he'd even grabbed the phone. Why he kept it on him. The buried hope it would uncover would be the end of him.

He used it to keep him on track, getting closer and closer to Gotham until he could finally see the smog that coated the city like a dirty cloak. Could see the twinkling skyscrapers and Gothic architecture clawing at the sky. 

Danny was half delirious at that point, running on fumes and ecto-dejecto. He'd run out of food days ago, and his stomach had stopped growling, instead cramping in a ball of pained agony that just joined the rest of the pain his battered body felt. 

He flew over the city, past skyscrapers and ancient buildings. He ignored the thoughts of Sam that accompanied every gothic building and gargoyle. He flew deeper into the city, ignoring the crowds below. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, a sign, maybe?

A feeling tickled at his senses, at his core. It felt familiar but faint. Hidden almost under something…wrong and rancid. But it was familiar. It felt safe in a way Danny hadn't felt in two weeks.

It had been longer than that, but Danny didn't want to think about that.

Danny followed the feeling, half asleep and so delirious he could swear the buildings were warping around him as he flew haphazardly closer. The feeling grew stronger. It almost felt like a ghost. As he crossed some unseen threshold, the feeling strengthened. It was like entering an abandoned haunt, the boundary lined weak and feeble. 

If there had been a ghost here, they were long gone. Probably Ended, it was one of the only ways he'd ever seen a ghost relinquish a haunt.

Danny paid it little mind. The ghost might be gone, but the sense of them remained. It felt so safe to him, even if the energy pulsate Rage/Pain/Hate/Grief/Vengeance like a heartbeat. He followed the feeling deeper into the haunt towards the center. Towards what would've been the ghost's lair. 

He forced his body to go intangible when he found the building, an apartment building that was slightly less derelict than the ones around it. Not that Danny was particularly picky at the moment. This spot was as good as any, and if it had been a ghost's lair, it was unlikely there were any living people in it. They tended to naturally avoid ghost lairs, some deep instinct buried in their psyche screaming at them to stay away. 

Danny dropped through the roof and through apartments until he reached the one that was positively drenched in the faded ghost's energy. There was a couch right there. And Danny didn't even have the energy to look around further.

He was tired. He was in so much pain. He just wanted to sleep.

Danny dropped his invisibility and intangibility, collapsing on the couch, his duffle bag dropped to the floor beside him. The moment his eyes closed, he was out.

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What. You thought I only wrote fluff? Nah.

Anyways, this is an idea that's been rattling around in my head I wanted to get out. It's rough, unedited and who knows if I'll continue it. But it exists now.

It has no name but I saved it as 'The Monster They Made' but the name is subject to change.

I'm pretty sure I got all the trigger warnings. Let me know if I missed any

[light-lanterne]

Hi! Idk if you're into it, but can I request some Byler and vivisection please? Look it up if you don't know what it is, I get the feeling it's right up your alley

hello ! thanks for the ask ~! a lovely mutual (rori) has been sharing stuff about it here and there so i know what it is, don't worry :]

anyway, you'll forgive the uninspiring scenario and the massive departure from your prompt, but i'm a little dry on creativity these past couple days so this is the only thing i could come up with. i hope it's enough:

tw // abundant, vivid, semi-anatomically-correct descriptions of gore - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☽ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - a short offering @boycattj, @byelerss, @catboy-cabin, @cosmobrain00, @dark-quill, @conanssummerchild, @fenixashes, @fluffyfangirl, @foodiewithdahoodie, @holyvirgilscriptures, @hyperfixationcentralsvoid, @rotisseries, @wheelersboy, @yearninginblue.

s5 scenario where byler are trapped by themselves in the upside down. they are lost, tired, they've been fighting quite a lot and they just want to find somewhere safe to spend the night and recover a little bit of their strength.

luck, however, isn't on their side and they get mauled by a pack of demogorgons. they manage to outrun most of them via trickery and deception; they even manage to kill a couple.

but it's not enough and, just when they think they're finally safe, a lone beast follows their tracks and finds their hiding spot, attacking and ripping to shreds the belly of one of them before the other is able to do anything and neutralise the threat via bashing them in the head with a bat.

so, the demogorgon is dead and the one who killed it (could be either mike or will) takes a moment to recover his breath, then turns around and notices just how bad the other is doing so he rushes to his side. kneels by him. of course, he quickly realises the blood loss is almost too much and starts to crack under the pressure of what's happening, but he keeps trying and even manages to stop most of the bleeding with one hand...

...but then shock sets in and the heart stops, and the one still awake —who again, only has one hand available since they're still trying to stop the bleeding with the other— is forced to take a rather unorthodox approach towards saving the other's life.

if it's mike, it's because of his unyielding determination and stubborn resolution to not let vecna win after everything that's happened. if it's will, it's because of his love for mike and maybe because he's lost a little bit of sanity throughout the last few months of their struggle, with the constant nightmares and taunting vecna's been subjecting him to non-stop.

whoever it is, he's a little deranged over the situation and thus, he doesn't hesitate to stick his hand inside the tear —careful not to be too forceful in an effort to keep the guts intact—, then slides it under the sternum and pushes past the liver, stomach and diaphragm and reaches towards the heart, erratic spasms from the lungs a clear indicator of how quickly the other's condition is deteriorating and how urgent the situation is.

so he keeps going. and at first, the fingertips barely touch the muscle, the blood is slippery and makes it so the heart keeps moving further into the ribcage, and it's a rather awkward angle so he has to consistently rearrange the position of his hand. but then he figures it out, pushes a little bit deeper —closer—, and finally manages to get a firm hold onto the heart and squeezes.

gently, softly. he has no idea what he's doing but he's determined and he's already in so deep (literally) so he's not going to stop.

thus, he massages the heart and tries to make the blood flow from one chamber into the other —just like mr. clarke showed them in biology class—, then maybe even moves their position a little so he can attempt to give some rather-ineffective mouth-to-mouth, barely any air making it past the throat due to the atrocious angle, yet enough air entering the lungs to inflate them a little and pushing them closer to the hand that's still in there.

little by little, for several minutes, he keeps struggling to reanimate the heart and get it back in working order until, finally, the demogorgon's poor victim takes a deep, tortured breath and the heart beats a couple times on its own, its rhythm slow and uneven but at least it's there.

moreover, there are yells in the distance and they've been there for a while, but the boys were a little busy to notice and it is only now that they realise it's their party and thus, help is on the way and everything is going to be fine and it is! the others arrive promptly and help the unfortunate teenagers through their conundrum, then a few weeks go past and the upside down is out of their lives so everything should go back to normal soon.

and for the most part, that's exactly what happens. life is not quite what it used to be before the gates opened —much less before will was even taken—, but slowly, the anxiety and nightmares the entire party now suffers start decreasing as time goes by and it's probably only going to be a couple years before they can all feel a sense of peace and calm at long last.

but during the quiet nights, when they're completely alone in their bedrooms with nothing but their own thoughts as companions, mike and will keep thinking back to that moment. to when one of them had to do something so odd to save his life.

for the receiver, it's a little confusing since it's all a blur, the strange, phantom sensation of having a hand around his cardiac muscle somehow entwining with the endorphin rush produced by the delusional daydreams he was having at that moment, on the brink of death, when the pain of what his body was going through was no longer being registered in his tired brain, and thus, the pressure of a foreign object in his chest somehow being logged in his mind as something that felt nice.

for the giver, however, it's all much clearer. much more vivid. if he focusses enough, he can still feel the warmth of the blood and smooth innards against his palm, all over his skin and under his nails; the pressure of the viscera pushing against his fingers, the space tight and clearly not meant to house any more mass, yet squishy and malleable and able to make enough room for the slim hand; the blood inside the heart moving from one side to the other, the sensation not too different from that of playing around with a water balloon...

...the bizarre feeling of the lungs expanding and breathing in life at the very end, his hand suddenly trapped and unable to move by the increased volume, almost as if the inside of his loved one's body was trying to hold him and keep him there, unmoving for just a little bit longer, nestled between some of the most important organs in the entire human body (the very organs he'd just reanimated and essentially returned life to with his very breath and gentle force).

so he lays in bed, hand extended towards the ceiling, the light from outside his window illuminating his fingers, and he pictures how they looked back when he finally pulled out to give room for the others to finish saving the other's life.

he pictures his hand covered in crimson blood, the likes of which was too quick to get cold upon being in contact with the air, then sighs in melancholy as he chases after the memory of the wonderful heat and pressure he'll unfortunately never get to feel again.

- the end -

(now that this is done, i must ask,,, is vivisection a weird kink ? >.< not shaming in the slightest (and this isn't technically vivisection so it's not even right), but i was writing the last couple paragraphs when it hit me that not everyone is an aroace ex-med student like yours truly so i was just going with the vibes while it is entirely possible that anon had a different angle when sending their request x.x oh well, it's done. thanks for the ask, for reading, and for letting me write weird stuff !! have a lovely day / night ~)

[whumpshaped]

since you’ve said no one has asked this of you,, could you please write an absolutely fucked up and depraved drabble??

pretty please 🥺

omg im sorry i didnt mean it that way. i just meant whenever i get a request for smth fucked up and depraved its never w the wording "heres a challenge for u" bc thats just my default drabble style😭😭😭 BUT YES I CAN !!!!! I JUST HAD A GOOD TALK W MY FRIEND ABT A MESSED UP THING . ENJOY

tw vivisection, gore, blood, nsfw, medical setting, wound fingering

Whumper made the incision precisely and carefully, with the steady hands of an experienced surgeon. Well, self-trained surgeon. They didn’t like to toot their own horn, really, but they had gotten quite good at the craft despite never having received any formal education on it. They had read all the books they could get their hands on, they had practised tirelessly… and now they were putting real surgeons to shame. But they didn’t like to brag.

This one didn’t need all the caution, though. Whumpee was immortal, so all the safety measures like disinfecting the scalpel were just routine, something Whumper did absentmindedly before they started on any new project. The poor thing was whimpering on the operating table, biting down on the cloth in their mouth so hard that Whumper thought their pointed teeth might go through it. That would’ve been a shame. Tears were streaming down their flushed cheeks, and Whumper made no effort to wipe them away, too focused on the work at hand.

More of a passion project, actually.

They folded back the flesh, pushing flaps of skin out of the way like it was nothing more than a curtain to peek behind. Bones fell away under their trusty saw and hammer, and Whumpee just wailed, wailed until their throat was too hoarse to continue. There it was, their heart, their immortal, ever-beating heart, one they could rip out and crush in their hand, yet the next day it would be right where it belonged. They wondered, distantly, whether Whumpee had wished for a more permanent death by now.

Whumper lowered the bloody scalpel to one of their thick arteries, making the smallest cut they could without compromising their plan. They needed it to be a small cut. Tight.

They slowly slipped a finger inside, testing the waters and making Whumpee twitch under their touch. It was slick with the freshest blood their body had to offer, warm with life itself, stretching readily to accommodate Whumper. It was inviting. It was perfect. They pulled back and took their surgical glove off, yet another unnecessary precaution they had taken to protect someone who couldn’t die of infection, and dove right back in with their bare hand this time.

The feeling of their skin against the inside of Whumpee’s artery was something indescribable. They pushed it in slowly, feeling around, exploring. The subject’s muffled pleas faded into the background as they kept moving their hand, pulling out, then pushing back in again, enjoying the familiar viscosity of their blood coating them. Could they fit another finger? Was that too greedy? Too eager? They couldn’t resist. 

It was an even tighter fit and Whumpee’s thrashing only intensified. Ironically, the thing causing them so much distress was the very same one keeping their blood in their body despite their torn open pulmonary artery. It ran slow, sluggish even, the thick drops finding little space to squeeze past the doctor’s invasive fingers.

Whumper licked their lips, exhaling shakily. They couldn’t pull their fingers out, that would’ve come with the risk of their patient bleeding to death within seconds. Yes, that was the only reason they kept doing it. They weren’t enjoying it that much, they were merely leaving their fingers inside until they thought of a solution. They weren’t stroking the wall of Whumpee’s artery at all. They were just thinking of the best way to reverse the damage so Whumpee could heal faster. And while they were thinking… they just had to keep the wound blocked.

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump

[odysseywritings]

The Dead Moth and Other Ghosts

@flashfictionfridayofficial

(tw insect cruelty imagery)

Christian passed by a church while commuting to the hospital and wondered when was the last time he prayed. One memory after another flowed into him. Some good, some bad, some funny, some embarrassing. The past had its place and he wanted to move on, keep his head on, and focus on the current, the here and now.

Pre-med made the time fly and gave him the need for exorcizing anxiety. It felt nice to contribute to the physical betterment of humanity without any nagging reflection. But today was slower and he needed to fill the time with studying. He honed in on vivisection, amputation, pain and other stimulation, and consciousness. All of it to help humanity but there was something else he walked away from.

Despite the blood and guts, medicine was the perfect example of humanity's scientific hand, to defy disease and ailment and even halt death. It was the cleanest arm in all of mankind's dealings. Christian believed it. But another part of him, nameless, shadowed him and wormed its way into his consciousness.

"Christian," the voice chirped. "Did I cause this?"

He peered deeper into his book to drown out the now echoing voice.

"Be honest with me, if not for yourself. Would you really want to become a doctor if you never saw me? How much I ignited the sparks of childlike curiosity?"

Christian accepted the voice existing but feebly ignored it until his steel fortress bent. He saw the apparition in full detail and magnified. A moth flying in front of him, missing limbs and a head.

"You can always change. No one has to stay ignorant of his actions. Or to deny his powerless understanding of the world. You thought an afterlife existed and that I was a step above a toy. A play thing. Like the ants you saw your cousin incinerate."

Christian swallowed in rage and sadness. He didn't mean to cause pain. He was a dumb kid who knew nothing. He wasn't a serial killer in waiting. He swatted the moth but his hand went through the wobbling sight.

"It's different. Your hands. Those tiny, curious things. The intimacy of it. Is that why you want to be a doctor? So you can control life and death in a nice, wealthy way? Bugs come and go, there's no hard feelings. But don't be surprised if a god exists and treats you the same."

Christian grabbed his book and slammed it against his wrist, again, again, again, until it numbed him. He trembled from the pain so he could transfer the guilt into something visible. The moth flew closer to his eyes in violent motions.

"All things want to live. Even if it means using something else to raise yourself. Don't kid yourself if you feel like a messiah. You can't bring back what you kill."

Christian breathed in ragged bursts, sweating, and ran his fingers through his dampened hair. The same fingers crawling down his face. The same ones that decide life and death. His blood froze.

"I don't know what this human emotion you're going through is. I take it it's not good by how many fluids are coming out of you, so take this. I'm already gone. No amount of life saving, or death dealing, or sulking, or avoiding changes that. Nothing."

Christian stood silent, shaking. The headless, limbless moth floated onto his nose.

"But what you can do is improve. Even back then, you saw and realized what you did was wrong without your mother or teacher or priest telling you. Maybe if not me, something worse might've happened. Who cares? You are alive and you can change. There are innocent children who never learn and become killers. If you do care, so be it. But history alone doesn't control who you are or what you must do to atone."

The moth ghost vanished once he blinked. Christian's senses were returning and the world stabilized. He closed the book in a hurry and walked inside the building to burn up anxiety. His trot stopped as he found a fluttering moth hovering by the ground. He thought about leaving it be or killing it to remove the pest, but he knew it was just a tiny bug that just wanted to exist.

He clasped his hands around the confused insect and carried it until he went outside and let it fly away. Deep down he knew this sentiment wouldn't amount to much, and that the moth wouldn't repay the favor and save his life in the future. But it got to live when death could've arrived just as normal. It wouldn't be an exciting life of heroism and triumph, and that's perfect for it, as life can win another day.

[venusararara]

OK babes let's talk about what Gatherine does when she has a bratty/noncompliant captive ♡

Gatherine is unlikely to keep a captive like this alive for long in the first place, but she IS likely to be extra hard on them for the duration of their life (1-2 days). She's liable to keep you if you start behaving after she starts the torture, though. She will probably forgive you.

TW for torture themes

☆ she usually begins with tearing all of your piercings out, in order of how painful she thinks it'll be.

☆ she also inflicts new piercings sometimes! Her go-tos are septum, genital, and nipple piercings. She will not allow them to heal.

☆ then she strips you nude and turns the A/C way, WAY down.

☆ she also only feeds you cold foods and drinks, at least until you lose your appetite.

☆ 43 degrees Fahrenheit if you're a mortal, 37 if you're a monster, and 30 if you're an angel.

☆ low temps are based on the lowest survivable temperature Dawsin suggests for each species, valhallia runs around 60 degrees and the surface runs around 97 degrees. Infernum runs around 132 degrees, so she doesn't have to turn down the A/C on the off chance she has a demon victim.

☆ she wears a cute winter coat when she comes to torture you, though.

☆ then begins vivisection and early dismemberment.

☆ puts past victim's cigarettes out on your open wounds.

☆ biting.

☆ cutting fingers and toes off with hedge clippers.

☆ cuts the spaces between your ribs, webbing between your fingers and toes.

☆ fingers your wounds, deepening them.

☆ blowtorches your ears/domewings.

☆ she may amputate your legs, though unlikely because she's not a massive fan of full-on amputating a limb. She wants you to be able to be self-sufficient if you learn to behave so she can keep you forever. It's not like she doesn't like you anymore.

☆ likes to go for bloodless torture like beatings and whatnot, but she's aware that those are considered less effective than the threat of losing a body part or being burned.

☆ last is solitary confinement.

☆ she turns off all of the lights and leaves you naked and cold.

☆ she stops visiting and feeding you.

☆ she will not appear again until you're completely silent for more than 12 hours, as she is checking to see if you're dead or not.

☆ might give you a sip of water if she likes you.

☆ if this all fails, she'll make you fight her for your life.

☆ she gets a knife, you don't.

☆ she'll play with you for a minute, giving you some hope that you'll win, before she rips it away and genuinely kills you.

☆ she gets bored pretty quick and guts you within 5 minutes of starting the "fight", it's pretty clear who the victor will be though (since you haven't eaten in a while).

☆ Gatherine will preserve one of your smaller body parts in a jar as something to remember you by.

[blxxdycherryblossoms]

introductions: sean cassidy

" but i always knew that in the end no one was coming to save me. so i just prayed and i keep praying and praying and praying. "

Was that [CALEB LANDRY JONES]? Oh no no, that was just [SEAN CASSIDY], a/an [CANON CHARACTER] from [MARVEL]. They are [TWENTY ONE] years old, use [HE/HIM], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.{ooc: Izzy, 22, PST, he/him}

tw: human experimentation, kidnapping, torture

how long has your character been here?

he's only just arrived! it's been only a week or so.

what is your character's job

eventually he plays piano for the local catholic church choir. he's also planning to go back to college to get his bachelor's degree in pre-law.

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

somewhere in between x-men first class and x-men days of future past. however, due to some magical interference he's been not only freed of his imprisonment by bolivar trask, but he's been thrust forward into the present day, as well as Washington dc, of all places.

has any magic affected your character

as mentioned above, time travel magic has saved him from certain death but also sent him forward in time.

and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know!!

i imagine that sean is currently living in the x-men mansion, seeing as he has no other place to go.

he was nineteen when he was kidnapped, about a year after first class, and spent two years imprisoned. he's undergone a lot of terrible things, including being forced to worn a painful muzzle of sorts to keep him from screaming, which left small scars around his mouth, as well as a vivisection, which left a giant y incision scar on his torso, and a forced vagotomy, an outdated surgical procedure that snipped the vagus nerve. this leaves him with several vitamin deficiencies, as well as impacts his gag reflex (so that he could scream louder and longer) and drastically curbs feelings of hunger.

he also hasn't quite realized the impact of time traveling, he hasn't had the time to think about his family or his friends, and seeing other x men has comforted him greatly.

[chrysochroma]

Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist!

@febuwhump i made it babeyyy! thank you so much for organizing this, i had a lot of fun!!

Total Word Count: 25,212

Day 1: helpless - “show us some good entertainment"

Hermitcraft, Teen, 1.1k

TW: blood, violence, broken bones

Day 2: solitary confinement - within your walls (desire, desire, till there’s nothing left of me)

Hermitcraft, Teen, 2.4k

TW: Kidnapping, Torture, Human Experimentation, Temporary Character Death

Day 3: ALT 4: human weapon - These are the Glorious Days (TGD) Ch 1: Slice, Come Paradise

Generation Loss, Teen, 1k

TW: Major character death, Blood, Flashbacks

Day 4: ALT 1: human shield - Starting With Them

The Owl House, Teen, 1k

TW: Possession, blood, violence

Day 5: rope burns - Black skies change to blue

Tangled the Series/Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 1.3k

TW: Blood, Injury, Rope burns, Tourniquets

Day 6: “you lied to me” - Everything Moves Ch 1: So many angles, so many lines

Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 1k

TW: crying, yelling, betrayal

Day 7: suffering in silence - TGD Ch 2: I give you the Judgement of God!

Generation Loss, Teen, 1k

TW: Dissection/surgery, Derealization, Graphic description of dissection

Day 8: “why won’t it stop?” - Kill The Rabbit (KTR) Ch 1: Eclipse

Original Work, Mature, 3.4k

TW: Arson, Death, Derealization, Panic Attacks, Scars, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Day 9: bees - Futurum Ch 1: Humanity

Original Work, Teen, 1.2k

TW: Death

Day 10: ALT 9: lightning strike - Sacrosanctity

Original Work, Teen, 1k

TW: blood, lightning, cult ish

Day 11: time loop - KTR Ch 2: Waxing Crescent

Original Work, Mature, 3.2k

TW: Murder, Blood and Violence, some Very distasteful discussion of suicide

I just realized that i forgot to make a tumblr post for it but its too late for that now so

Day 12: ALT 6: immortality - In a Tulip Field (Tulip) Ch 1: Always More

Original Work, Teen, 232

TW: discussion of death

Day 13: “you weren’t meant to get hurt” - Everything Moves Ch 3: So many ways to see the sunrise

Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 1.2k

TW: Violence, injury, crying

Day 14: blood stained tiles - Neon green and scarlet red

Danny Phantom, Teen, 857

TW: Dissection/vivisection/surgery, self loathing, bad parenting, blood

Day 15: “who did this to you?” - Rusty Repair Kit (RRK) Ch 1: A Bright Red Poppy

Hermitcraft, Teen, 658

TW: Mourning

Day 16: came back wrong - “You don’t remember?"

Malevolent Podcast, Teen, 642

TW: yelling, swearing

Day 17: hostage situation - I’m Gonna Win Ch 1: I’ll be Bloody and Bruised

Traffic Life, Teen, 100

TW: Defeathering, Violence, Reference to past trauma

Day 18: too weak to move - Thrill of the Chase

The Magnus Archives, Teen, 162

TW: Violence

Day 19: “please don’t” - Everything Moves Ch 2: To keep the pulse alive in you

Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 594

TW: Yelling

Day 20: ALT 7: last words - Tulip Ch 2: Those Who Remember

Original Work, Teen, 187

TW: Discussion of death

Day 21: unresponsive - “All you have is your fire"

Traffic Life, Teen, 100

TW: Unconscious

Day 22: “you weren’t meant to be there” - I’m Gonna Win Ch 2: I’ll be Laughing Alone

Traffic Life, Teen, 200

TW: Yelling

Day 23: presumed dead - Tulip Ch 3: For Them

Original Work, Teen, 181

TW: Discussion of death

Day 24: “i’m doing this because i care about you” - Molten Gold

Traffic Life, Teen, 959

TW: Kidnapping, Flashbacks, References to past trauma, Fire powers, Yelling

Day 25: ALT 5: CPR - Make a mercy out of me

Hermitcraft, Teen, 200

TW: Drowning, Burns, Crying

Day 26: “help them” - Boogeyman

Traffic Life, Teen, 100

TW: Violence, Betrayal, Lying

Day 27: left for dead - RRK Ch 2: Bloodstained Gears

Hermitcraft, Teen, 842

TW: Violence, Blood

Day 28: “no…not like this” - TGD Ch 3: Hail His Majesty!

Generation Loss, Teen, 100

TW: Panic, Yelling

Day 29: not allowed to die - Success

Traffic Life, Teen, 100

TW: Panic, Suicidal thoughts

[tmnt-starlit-sin]

TMNT: Starlit Sin

A fan iteration of TMNT by @error-core-animations with a lot of stuff pulled from past versions, and a lot of stuff I just decided would be cool!

Content warnings: violence typical of TMNT, blood, probably gore, murder, vivisection, child abuse (medical, emotional, and physical), dehumanization, unethical experimentation, ableism/internalized ableism, and themes of discrimination.

Main characters

Hamato Leonardo: leatherback sea turtle, 16, he/him, intersex trans man. Has overall joint pain, it's worst in his legs/knees. Heavily modified flippers do not make very good or stable walking appendages. Mikey's twin. AuDHD. His design

Hamato Michaelangelo: red bellied sideneck turtle, 16, it/they/any, gendersilly. Asthmatic, neck pain, Crohn's disease. Leo's twin. ADHD. Their design [tba]

Hamato Donatello: Rio Grande cooter, 15, "he/him", "cisgender". Jaw can unhinge itself, which is very painful and very bad for the jaw joint, plus other forms of (painful) hypermobility. Autistic. His design [tba]

Hamato Raphael: Yangtze giant softshell turtle, 14.5, he/she, transmasc. Skeletal structure is more cartilaginous than it should be, resulting in joint pain and muscle tremors. Has the worst spinal issues due to her soft shell allowing it to bend and twist. AuDHD. Her design [tba]

Hamato Yoshi/Splinter: American mink mutant, mid/late 50s, he/him, cis but the best and funniest ally you could ask for. He started as a human man, but his mutation left him with back pain and difficulty walking. He and Leo are cane buddies!! AuDHD. His design [tba]

Venus de Milo Jones-Hamato: spotted turtle, 10, she/cy/cyan. Born without one arm and losing the other in... Uh... And accident, she has no hands, much like her namesake statue. Autistic!! Cyan design [tba]

Jennika Jones-Hamato: pancake tortoise, 10, he/they girl. The reason "vivisection" is one of the tws lol. He has a hard time moving certain body parts due to wounds healing badly. Self sacrificial, awww, just like Mama Shen and her big brother Leo!! AuDHD. Their design [tba]

April O'Neil: human/kraang hybrid experiment, 15.5, she/her, cat/cats. She's autistic and is easily overwhelmed by sound and light, but has ear protectors and sunglasses to help. She also has a service dog, Bumblebee, to help ground her when she's having a shutdown or meltdown. Cats design [tba]

Cassette Tape "Casey" Jones, human/tengu (a bird yokai), early 30s, any pronouns. Autistic, ADHD, and a serial adopter. Smoked weed before adopting Venus, but changed to edibles to be a more responsible parent- she's not getting its kid high or destroying cyans lungs! That's not good parent behavior!! Faer design [tba]

Basic worldbuilding under the cut- more will be added as I develop this world more, and once I have enough time to fully delve into the main characters of this iteration

Yokai have been part of the world for millennia, and exist alongside humans. They experience discrimination at social and legal levels, but don't have to hide underground. They're legal citizens, like humans. The Yokai in this AU come from worldwide mythologies and sentient dinosaurs.

Mutation has been used to help victims of wild animal attacks for decades, especially younger ones. It's risky and oftentimes a last resort, but sometimes it's necessary. It's only in recent years, though, that mutants have become more widespread. This has caused a lot of legal controversy, especially over whether mutants should legally be considered Yokai, Evan if they started as humans

Magic is a natural force, similar to gravity and electricity, that can be harnessed and has multiple uses. Certain individuals are more naturally inclined towards being able to use it, but with enough practice, anyone can connect to and utilize mystics. It takes different forms for each individual, matching their personality/interests.

[primowishes]

w/ @starlitwishes {x}

The failure had wounded Dottore's pride. Because of that, rather than disgust and irritation toward Scaramouche's outburst, it angered him, especially when the puppet grabbed his collar. As if it was on purpose, as if the Doctor wanted his most ambitious experiment to not come to fruition.

Dottore grabbed Scaramouche's shoulder, attempting to shove him back down against the table--in part, it was to break the hold, but that didn't matter. He wasn't trying to move away. Rather, he further crowded Scaramouche's space; he only sought to dominate it instead of these useless threats the puppet made towards him.

"It. Rejected. You!" Each word was spat out with the gnashing of teeth, his mouth contorted with his own rage. He didn't often allow himself to lose such control, but between the puppet grabbing him and the way the Electro Gnosis failed to implant within his body, everything he'd worked towards and expected crumbled at his touch.

No. He wouldn't allow this. Even if he had to tear this puppet apart, again and again, he was going to make it work. And then he'd tear it apart again at its conclusion and seek even greater heights.

This wasn't Dottore's peak; he wouldn't allow it to be. Especially not since, supposedly, the puppet's purpose was to house the Gnosis.

"If you would--!" This stupid puppet, the disgusting malfunctioning thing, grabbing and demanding things of him. He wanted to drive a scalpel into it, tear those stitches right back open. It couldn't even survive that, and it thought that Dottore was the one lacking here?

"I am going to fix it. And since there's evidently something wrong with you as you are--" Enough, calm down calmdowncalmdown. He had to slow his racing thoughts before he truly did lose control. Old bad habits, resurfacing. "--I have to fix that. First."

@starlitwishes

[nin-jay-go]

mmmmmmm i have only been thinking about ninjago for the past few weeks. you will be here for my brainrot

so ive got this rewrite i'm working on rn, which ive called alterline (portmanteau of alternate timeline) since like 2018. ive picked it back up and i'm officially working on the rewrite, but for it i added a few new seasons. specifically 3 brand new fanseasons.

the other two don't matter right now. all that matters is s17. my mad science season.

fun fact about me i am in love with mad science stuff and i figured hey! why not! i needed to do Something with my s17, so why not work some fucked up science into it :)

the tldr for those who don't wanna hear me ramble or don't wanna see what i will be rambling about (bc heavy tw for mad science themes like body horror, vivisection, and general medical malpractice) is below, but one bit of information before we proceed. nya is still the ocean. let her stay dead for longer than 2 episodes !

s17 is a kai focus! he and the ninja get invited to a lab by a scientist to run some tests (they are still powerless), but she traps them and runs experiments on them. there, they find out that 1) nya is alive now, 2) dr cy is working with aspheera, and 3) the new ninja are clones of the old ninja. kai ends up blowing the lab up and going on a minor destructive arc before calming down. the rest of the season focuses on the new ninja realizing they're clones and helping the old ninja take out mayor trustable.

so now that the summary is over. time to get into the details (or just what i have so far)

hi thanks for uncovering the hell. i'm gonna be rambling for a while.

again, this is a kai-focused season! we haven't had one since my s11 and he deserves to have a focus. as a treat :) (i realize this is just kai suffers the season. i realize that. but it's fiiiiine don't worry)

some prehistory for the season. dr cy calls up aspheera for her magical talents, and they summon nya together. they pull her from the ocean and violently rip her back into her body. of course, she can only be here if her powers are gone, so aspheera drains her water powers. nya has no memory of who she was or what she's doing here. she just knew she was the ocean. and now she's here.

a month later, the ninja are ninja-ing. it's been a year since the events of crystalized, two since nya died. that's the longest any of them stayed dead (sans morro who was dead for 40 years). kai really misses her, but has accepted the fact that she's gone. (she helped out in crystalized, but she wasn't really nya. she was the sea)

he runs into dr cy, who offers him and the ninja an opportunity to get tested. she could figure out the origin of elemental powers and help restore them to the ninja. they deserve their powers back, after saving the world so many times! she's a huge fan!

kai discusses it with the team, who agree that it's worth a shot at least. pixal stays behind since she's mostly unaffected by elemental nonsense, but also to keep an eye on the new ninja. she doesn't trust them. plus, if it ends up being bad, she can break them out.

the first tests kinda go normally, just general doctor checkups. she's just being a little bit weird about the nonhuman members of the team (aka everyone but kai), but a lot of people end up being weird about it. jay's publically part snake, zane's obviously a nindroid, lloyd is lloyd, cole used to be dead, and morro's got their own thing going on.

(oh. some background context. in my rewrite the ninjas' public identities are secret. the only ones with a face and name known to the public are lloyd and morro, to an extent, and jay for those who remember the alternate timeline)

when the ninja thank cy for her time and investigation, she uh. traps them in there JKDFSHKJSFDH because she needs to find out where elemental power comes from. and how she can bring it back for the ninja. to restore them to their full glory.

they're stuck in there for a while. a week, maybe? i haven't decided how long exactly, but a Long Time. pixal does try and rescue them but is taken out by aspheera with water powers, meaning pixal is the first person to find out about nya being alive. she doesn't take it well, so she and aspheera are kinda duking it out out there

meanwhile, the ninja are being put through tests to activate what's called their elements' emergency response, aka a hypercharged form designed for protecting the body and the element. kind of like nya's merged form with the ocean, but temporary. cy is trying to activate the emergency response through putting the guys through Situations that they don't like one bit. one of them included kai in a super frozen room and zane in a super boiling room, morro being pretty much buried, and other stuff like that.

sometimes she tries to stimulate them further by exposing them to their element, like frying jay or lloyd with electrical currents, or piling heavy boulders on cole. maybe that will trigger their emergency responses, but nothing seems to work. she even tries it out with nya to see if she can summon back her water powers, but nya's kind of being a sad sack of amnesia right now.

speaking of nya, she's just kinda. here? around the lab? she's mostly locked in her cell, but she treats aspheera and cy as important people, like parents. she trusts them. she's also kinda having a bad time physically, constantly melting and dripping water. she's not really a solid person right now :(

[tw for vivisection begins here] so eventually, cy tries to take it a step further and pulls out some Forbidden Things. she needs to make kai's fire act up more. he's 100% human still. how would his body react to parts of a fire dragon? so she tries it out, doing a quick lung transplant to see if, maybe, the lungs being close to the heart could kickstart a bit of fire. maybe even some dragon blood? all to see how kai reacts to it.

he reacts badly.

congratz on the dragon parts now, kai! the last human is no longer human, not fully. he refuses to acknowledge that he isn't fully human anymore, denying that he'll probably never breathe the same way humans do again. it's fine. he's fine. [end tw]

through this, however, cy decides to keep a closer eye on his developments. eventually, she lets him in on a secret. she leads him to the back of the lab, a room that no one is allowed to enter. she shows him what's inside.

it's cloning pods. she had already had their dna for who knows how long, and had used it to essentially clone them. make perfect ninja replicas. ones that had all their skills. only five managed to survive the process and come out the other end alive. cy reveals this was something she was hired by mayor trustable to do, and when the clones finished growing, he took them off her hands.

but she's always hated him for that. the original ninja would always be superior. the clones could not come close, ever. that's why she's so adamant about bringing their powers back. she wants them to wipe their clones out and prove they're superior.

kai thinks that's absolutely unhinged and manages to escape, running through the lab. he took a wrong turn and finds a cell, where nya is sitting. his sister is alive. he and nya talk, but it's obvious she doesn't know who he is, or who she even is. kai promises to get her out, but nya doesn't understand. he leaves and gets captured and sent back to his cell.

he goes to visit nya's cell sometimes, now that he knows where she is. he tries reminding her of her memories, to which she listens to best she can. she's a bit... spacey. but it's ok, they're bonding.

that is, until cy catches him visiting her and gets pissed. she threatens to hurt nya if he doesn't back off and go back to his cell, to which he snaps and activates his emergency response. his sister is in danger. he would not let his family be in danger.

he becomes a wildfire and destroys the lab. it gets burned down, its entire foundation gone. and for her cruelty, for what she did to him, his friends, his family, his sister, kai kills dr cy.

still in his emergency response, he can't do much other than rampage, a living wildfire. the others find nya and they all get out of there. pixal, meanwhile, is holding kai back and fighting him off. he's not kai right now, just a mess of fire and rage. it hurts to see him like this.

but nya sees him like that. memories flood back. the element of water rushes back to her (aspheera losing hold on the magic) and she turns back into the sea. she has her memories. she stares kai in the firey face and they calm each other down. their emergency states fade away, leaving two not-quite humans in their wake. kai realizes what he did in his state. nya realizes how long it's been. they're both sobbing messes against each other.

now that cy and the lab are gone, and nya and kai have their elements back, there's two issues to solve. the first is the others' elements, which they don't really want to trigger the emergency response for. the other is the new ninja, their clones.

the og ninja decide to tell the new ninja directly that they know they're clones. turns out the new ninja also did not know they were clones. so that was a fun development where the new ninja realize that Oh God. they're not even actual people. they were just made for one purpose.

the bizarros also get involved. it becomes very confusing to have like three people with the same face in the same room, but the bizarros deserve to know there's clones of their light counterparts. i'm normal about my bizarros.

with their combined effort, they overthrow mayor trustable. and everyone lives happily ever after. more or less.

the new ninja agree to also be city protectors, since they were literally made for that, but that they'll also learn to live their own lives and figure out who they are as people. they aren't the bizarros, who are kinda predisposed to doing bad things.

kai is having a time, meanwhile. he killed someone. he isn't human anymore. he's changed. if there's any more room left in the season, it's left for kai to discover who he is again. maybe he goes on a vacation. they all can go on vacation. they deserve it.

how did the others get their elements back? fuck if i know <3 i haven't gotten that far yet kjdhfgkjdhfg

[blood-of-ink]

All that Remains - 3

Warnings: Fever, graphic injury, broken whumpee, some very mild lady whump (Like, a few bruises and scrapes) panic attack, mentions of past child abuse, vomiting (Very non-graphic)

Taglist: @whumpwillow and @whumpilicious

________________________________________________________________

Supervillain drifted into consciousness slowly, lost in a haze of pain and exhaustion. He was afraid, but too weak to do anything to save himself.

As his eyes fluttered open, and he began to take in his surroundings, he realized that Vigilante was next to him, curled up on the edge of the bed, sleeping. Through the racerback of her shirt, he could see the scrapes and bruises that littered her body, as well as a few scars. None were serious, but it was a stark reminder of what she faced every day.

But she was still helping him, and that confused Supervillain. She had always hated him.

Perhaps she was just waiting until he had healed slightly so she could kill him herself.

Cold fear knotted in his stomach at the thought. His breathing increased, and tears pricked at his eyes. Vigilante stirred, and Supervillain whimpered, gasping for breath as panic constricted his chest.

“Supervillain?” Vigilante sounded concerned. “Hey.” She gently put her hand on his bicep, and he flinched away with a sob.

“Easy, easy, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Supervillain shook his head, breathing heavily as tears spilled down his face. 

Vigilante shifted closer to him, and he cried out.

“Don’t- no more! Please!” He wailed, shuddering violently. “I can’t- I can’t do this!”

“Supervillain, calm down.” Vigilante said, her voice both gentle and firm. Supervillain whimpered, doing his best to obey. He couldn’t risk angering her, making her want to hurt him.

When his efforts proved fruitless, Vigilante reached out, wrapping her arms around him, and pulling him in close to her. Supervillain tensed briefly, before slumping against her with a sniffle.

“It’s alright.” Vigilante said gently.

Supervillain said nothing, just nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, trembling all over.

__________

Vigilante sighed, gently stroking the supervillain’s sweat-damp hair. He was shivering uncontrollably, and still crying.

She could never have imagined Supervillain in such a wretched state.

“Ssssssshhhhh, ssssssshhhh, it’s alright now, Supervillain.” She murmured, as a sob hitched in his throat.

“D-don’t hurt me.” He stammered. “Please. I’m sorry.”

“Hush, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Supervillain hiccuped, but his trembling was beginning to subside.

“Sssshhhhh, ssssshhhh. There, it’s okay.”

“Why are you helping me?” Supervillain moaned. “You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Vigilante said softly. “And being a vigilante... All I want is justice. What Villain did to you isn’t justice. It’s monstrous.” Though she knew it to be true, the words still felt like a knife in heart.

Because Villain had once been her dearest friend. Back when they were just children. Before he’d broken every promise he’d ever made Vigilante.

The way he’d cut Supervillain open was monstrous enough, but to have reopened the wound, time and time again, to have kept him alive for days just to prolong his suffering, and then abandon him to die of his infection... Vigilante had no words for such cruelty, nor for how much it pained her.

Because she now knew for a fact that none of that cocky boy remained. All that was left was a monster.

Vigilante felt tears prick at her eyes, and furiously blinked them away. She couldn’t cry now.

After a while, Supervillain had exhausted himself enough that he fell back asleep, curled up under the blankets, and finally calm. It was only then that Vigilante let the tears fall, thinking back to the day that she and Villain had promised to do better than their parents, had promised to escape that vicious cycle of abuse.

Vigilante had grown up to seek justice, to fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, even if it sometimes fell outside of the sanctioned laws. She had grown up to be strong, and brave, and kind.

And Villain had turned out just like his father.

Vigilante stood up, walking into the bathroom, and splashing her face with cold water, before wiping away her tears. For the past five years, Vigilante had told herself that she could help Villain, help him break the cycle he couldn’t break on his own. That she could save him.

But what he had done to Supervillain had shattered that hope that she had so desperately clung to. Forced her to accept that it was out of her control. She had made her choice, and Villain had made his. And he wasn’t going to change no matter how hard Vigilante tried to help him. Her stomach spasmed, and she threw up in the sink.

[whumpwillow]

The supervillain from this ask Waking up in Hero's care, and just being terrified?

yesssssssssssssssssssss oh fantastic. I love getting to continue this one 🥰🥰🥰

Hero rescued Villain and took them back to their base for treatment, of which they needed a lot. Hooked up to various machines, given medicine for pain and to prevent infection, and nearly their entire body covered in bandages, it’s understandable that Villain would be confused

Villain is more than confused when they awaken, feeling the IV attached to their arm. They think it’s another ‘test’ being done to them and they start thrashing wildly like an injured animal so much that they tear their stitches.

Hero and the team have to hold Villain down and restrain him so he can’t hurt himself, since his body is so weak after having been sliced open. Villain remembers the restraints of the lab, the bright lights and cruel eyes and too many pairs of hands on him and thinks he’s there again, not even registering the change in environment or who stands above him

All Hero can do is look upon sadly as they give Villain something to help him sleep and calm him down

[a-game-of-stars-and-ink]

Run with the Wolves - Chapter 4

Warnings: Vivisection aftermath, past noncon mention, past lady whump, fever, delirium, begging. . Death of a teammate mention.

Tagging: @whumpwillow​ @whumpilicious​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @the-three-whumpeteers​

Note: There is a part where Bela is referred to as a ‘child’ by Jake, and just wanted to clarify that Bela is an adult.

The characters ages are as follows

Bela- 22

Kodi- 23

Zayne- 26

Jamie- 27

Rain- 28

Jake- 34

Bela was woken by someone mumbling. She blearily sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

“Y-you shouldn’t have done th-that to her...” That was Zayne’s voice. “How c-could you...?” He moaned.

Bela climbed down from her bunk, and padded over to where Zayne lay.

“Zayne?” She asked quietly, the damage to her voice still evident despite the low tone.

“Don’t touch her.” He groaned. “I’m not letting you near her again. Not after what you’ve done to her.”

“Zayne...” Bela whispered, knowing that he was talking about her. Trying to protect her.

This is why he was vivisected. She felt sick. Because he, my former captor, former interrogator, tried to protect me.

Her whole world was thrown off balance by this. Everything she’d thought she’d known about him was crumbling.

“Left the cell unlocked.” He mumbled.

Bela froze.

He’s the one who let me escape? She’d always assumed that it was just an oversight. Or a faulty lock.

She’d taken Mark with her, even though he was already dead. She couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him in that place.

“Hey.” She murmured, gently tapping his shoulder, trying to free him from whatever nightmare he was trapped in.

“N-no. Not the knife again. Please.” He whimpered.

“Zayne. Wake up.” She said it firmly this time. His eyes fluttered open, glazed and unfocused.

“Don’t... No more.” He rasped.

“No more.” Bela agreed, and went to Rain’s bunk. She gently shook the other girl’s shoulder.

“Bela? What’s going on?” Rain asked, voice heavy with sleep.

“Zayne. He’s delirious.”

Rain sat up at that. She said nothing, just stood up, and went over to the injured man. Bela followed silently, a small smile tugging at her lips as she noticed Jamie and Kodi were in the same bunk, snuggling.

“Fevers often spike at night.” Rain was saying.

“Mhmm, I know. However, he thinks he’s back with Neavters.”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“That was before I found out why this happened.”

“You mean that he defended you?”

“He let me go. I... I think he left my cell unlocked.”

Rain gasped softly at that.

“Bela... this changes so much.”

“No. It changes everything.” Bela replied.

“What changes everything?” Jake’s voice made her jump.

“Zayne... He left my cell unlocked. Let me escape. It all makes sense now.” Bela whispered, hugging her arms.

“When I was outside, dragging Mark with me... I tripped, over a branch. Zayne saw me. He must have. He looked right at me. Then he just walked away.” She shook her head. “I convinced myself it was dark. He didn’t see me... I don’t think that’s true. Not now.”

Jake nodded.

“Rain, can you manage this?”

“Yes.”

“Then I have something I need to address. Bela, come outside please.”

Puzzled, Bela tilted her head.

“I need to speak to you.”

She nodded, and followed him outside, into the pre-dawn twilight.

A light snow swirled in the air and dusted the ground.

“How did you get the scars on your throat?” Jake asked. “I know it was during your time as a prisoner, but how did that happen?”

Bela studied his face, saw the truth in his eyes.

“Why are you asking? You already know.” She murmured.

“I think I do. But I need to be certain.” Jake told her. “Was it when Neavters-”

“Yes.” Bela whispered hoarsely. “It was. He held a knife to my throat, while he was... the whole time.”

Jake nodded. “And that’s why you never spoke of it?”

It was Bela’s turn to nod. Miserably, she looked away.

************

Jake tried to quell the rage that bubbled up inside of him.

Poor child.

He shook the thought away. She’d hate that sentiment.

I don’t want to be seen as a victim. Her words echoed in his head.

And in truth, he didn’t see her that way. She might have been the strongest person he’d ever met.

“Right. That’s all, Bela, thank you.”

Bela nodded, and headed back inside.

Jake followed, still lost in thought.

Zayne let her escape. Which puts everything in a different light.

Zayne had always been known, and feared, for his arrogance and cruelty. For years, everyone had assumed that no line was too far for him to cross.

Obviously, they’d been wrong.

Entering the barracks again, Jake paced over to where Rain and Bela were watching Zayne, who seemed to be at least semi-conscious by now.

“Zayne?” Jake asked, dropping into a crouch. “Did you let Bela escape.”

“I had to.” He moaned. “Or Neavters would have done it again. It was too much, I couldn’t let it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw Bela close hers.

“Why couldn’t you let it?”

“It’s wrong.” Zayne whispered. “I couldn’t-” Tears started down his face. “Couldn’t let it happen a-again.”

“Zayne.” Jake murmured, but Zayne didn’t seem to hear him.

“Couldn’t let it happen again.” He mumbled, and his eyes rolled up white.

A portrait of Bela I did in Meiker (And touched up in photoshop)

[kurimiaki]

Just as I can be so cruel

Malleus Draconia, Twisted Wonderland

tw: yandere, forced marriage, female reader, implied kidnapping, posessive behavior

You wonder how many marriages are built on the foundation of fear.

Lilia had told you it was only natural to be scared, to be hesitant in going forth with the dress fittings, to cry and resist and fight back against your inevitable nuptials. “Buck up,” he had whispered in your ear, tightening your corset before squeezing you into a gown, “you’ll never want or need for anything. Isn’t that ideal, for humans like you?”

You take great trepidation in dealing with your fiancée. As cautious as you are around Malleus as of late, you also fear for him, in a way pitying him. As confusing and overwhelming as it is being with a powerful creature such as he, (unwillingly, at that), your betrothed had always seemed somewhat foreign in the experience of romantic love and relationship.

In friendship, those many months ago at Night Raven College, he was wholly alien to your casual outings and terms of endearment. It became endearing, after a while, how amused and jilted he became in lieu of your impromptu nicknames and friendly asides. Perhaps it was because you weren’t initially disillusioned by his rank or identity, didn’t view him as superior or as someone to be feared.

If he was initially so estranged from friendship as a concept, surely he had no prior examples of marriage to go off of, not in any healthy sense. He was vastly intelligent, powerful and adept in the field of magic, wise beyond how he appeared in years, but seemed so stunted and ignorant as to connection and propinquity.

It wasn’t as if Malleus was lonely. By your standards, at least. Sebek showered his young master in such adoration and attention that you wondered how Malleus didn’t suffocate, and Lilia always gave way to how deeply his affections ran for his pseudo-son, as you used to call him.

This is what made it so strange that you were proposed to in the weeks after you returned home, an eagerly wide-eyed graduate, hopeful for the future you had worked towards arduously for many years. The instant your parents had received a letter from the crown prince’s esquire, formally asking for your willing hand in marriage, such dreams were smothered out. You were whisked away to Briar Valley without a single say in the matter.

Malleus is your friend. Never your lover. He’s only misconstrued what sort of commitment you were willing to pursue with him, and it’s on you to amend this misconception, isn’t it?

But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to justify and redirect your friends’ actions when he does things like this.

“At least let me see my parents before you delude them into thinking I’m your willing bride,” you fluster, storming after Malleus’ towering form down the winding castle halls. Portraits and tapestries line aged cobblestone walls, leering down at you as you pointedly ignore their existence. It’s cold, dewy, abysmal weather outside, and his mood isn’t any better. He doesn’t respond, and it scares you, but you refuse to relent.

You tug on the loose fabric of his coat, as if he’d feel such a small action. “Malleus, please. Why must you be so difficult? I just need to-“ he turns, suddenly coming to a halt, finally uprooted from his indifference by your taunts. You bristle, clenching your fists and steeling yourself— but he’s still so frigid, so monotone, maintaining apathy that stings worse than anger —and continue with your tirade.

“Can we just sit down for a moment. You wanted to discuss the particulars of the guest list, didn’t you? We can work out all of the kinks.” He considers you, bright green eyes tearing into you, as if you were live on a vivisection table, and relents. He always does.

Your bedroom is the only modicum of autonomy you have to cling to, at present, and he invades it by his presence all the same. You’ve made it your home, these past months, arranging and rearranging near ancient pieces of furniture. You fume once more as he casually lounges on an ottoman, never uttering a single word, making you appear so dumb and flustered standing before him. And you are, admittedly and rightfully, furious with him.

Your fiancée raises his brows, expectant.

“I found out that my mother was kept from entering the castle yesterday morning, and by your orders, she’s been sent home. Can you first give me an explanation for that?” you cross your arms, keeping a passable distance from him. Malleus sighs, brows sharply furrowing, as if he was frustrated at being caught.

But he knew you knew, that your family had finally made attempts at contacting you, perhaps hoping to make up for the unceremonious decision to acquiesce to Malleus’ proposal without your consent. If only to ensure that they’ll be the ones to receive your supposedly hefty dowry. Even when you get yourself out of this, you can hardly imagine ever forgiving them, but you were more so disturbed by the revelation that Malleus had also been keeping your mother’s letters from you. You had stumbled upon three month’s worth, kept tightly bound upon his desk.

“And you’re sure of this?” He begins, crossing his arms and regarding you, and you know you cannot rat out the fae who had lay bare this information to you. Malleus frowns as you nod, and rises from his seat.

With a slow, ominous pace he approaches you, lifting both hands to rest on your shoulders. It’s difficult and annoying to have to crane your head so sharply, but you’re adamant on keeping to his gaze all the same. Your neck burns. “Malleus, I’m not angry. I just don’t understand it. You were so accommodating and kind to them back in my village, so why this…?”

He smiles at your words, in a manner you interpret as blatantly condescending. As if your concerns were so simple and unfounded, and his actions easily dismissible. “It’s not totally untrue, I’ll admit to that. Your mother showed up rather early in the morn for a human, disheveled and demanding to be let in…” he trails, tutting and frowning down at you in mock disapproval, as if to perform genuine emotion.

You don’t speak, allowing him to continue. At this, he strokes a strand of your hair affectionately. You flinch, but if he noticed, he doesn’t show it.

“To relieve you of your confusion, my dear, you must understand that I had to turn your mother away in an act of self-preservation.” You gape, openly guffawing at his statement. Before you can refute his words, remind him of his standing as an all-powerful sorcerer of this world, he continues. “She was quite up in arms as to my treatment of her daughter, speaking so degradingly of you, I had to assume that she was jealous of your luxury.”

It’s a ridiculously fabricated lie, you tell him, near frenzied by an onslaught of rage. Childish liar. You call him as such, as he impresses his ridiculous concerns upon you, as if villainizing your mother further will serve to justify his behavior. Now fuming and unwilling to listen further, to hear him droll on about how he’s only protecting you once more, you tear from your betrothed, and supply him with a steady glare.

“You don’t want me around anything that is not you,” you seethe, glowering at Malleus from across the room, “as if i’ll begin to stink the moment I so much as look at another person.” You point and gesture to him in a flurry of frustration, airing your every grievance without filter or fear, naming him a captor rather than a lover, insisting that he just let you go.

He remains unmoving from where he last stood, malignant green eyes trailing your every movement. And he begins to frown, after a while, when your words turn more brutal and accusing, when spit flies from your mouth as you squawk and scream and bawl your ireful allegations. You shut up when he approaches you, at least, eyeing him now with specks of fear and trepidation in your glimmering eyes.

Malleus was never one to be loomed over or missed, standing as tall as he does, his presence so all-consuming and numbing, you often forget yourself, when by his side. It’s different, you suppose, being his lover, to be subjected to the mild affections of a creature that hardly ever acted in the interests of his peers. You could barely conjure the idea that he would lay a harmful hand to you, the weak human he works so hard to protect and constrain to his side.

He raises a hand to your cheek, gently, and you flinch as his nail grazes your cheekbone. You feel yourself falter and freeze as he encloses his arm around your waist, pulling you to him so intimately, so much closer than you’d been with any person before. Malleus sighs, stroking your cheek languidly, distracting and diverting you from your fury, albeit momentarily. You fluster, blush, but don’t forget yourself, and begin to struggle, swatting away his loving caresses.

At once, he becomes volatile. Your cheeks are snatched in a vicious grip, sharp, black nails threatening to puncture soft skin. You struggle to inhale from how sharply and strongly he holds your waist. “Hurts,” you blubber, grappling and clawing at the fabric of his coat desperately, but he only smiles. His hand squeezes, digs, pries into your cheek, and you cannot bear how cruelly he leers down upon you, this creature who used to be your friend.

Malleus was closer than touch, crushing you to him, basking in your apparent dread and terror. Like a cruel child, you distantly muse, who’s gotten a toy after beating it out of the hands of someone younger and weaker, a baby whos too scared to tattle.

“You’d do good to be a little nicer to me, you cruel little thing,” he starts, so chiding and so terribly infuriating that you almost disregard your fear once more, but his grip is still iron-clad and crushing, “I don’t know how much more I can tolerate from your degradation.”

“Everything I’ve done, my every move thus far, I have done for you. I’m not blinded nor jaded by my love, as you presume to think— in fact, I’m thinking quite clearly.” He inches closer, too close, close enough that you can see how his irises are more reptilian and slitted than you had though, so inhuman. His lips are furled, and you can feel your eyes gloss with tears as his edgy breath wafts over your face.

“So misguided, so silly you are, to believe I’d ever take you as my bride haphazardly. That we were nothing more than acquaintances.”

And he pulls away, finally allowing you to breathe, though you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to grace this bedroom without feeling the phantom of his crushing touch. His hand lingers on yours, thumb tracing over the delicate band of your engagement ring. No longer is your mind clouded with worthless euphemism and foolish hope— this is Malleus, laid bare and exposed on his back, stripped of all niceties and facades, demonstrating for you the brunt of his love.

He raises your cold limp hand to his lips, satisfied with your pliant, lamblike mien. Rid of all nasty hatred, instead flushed with fear, which he accepts as gracefully and warmly as he would your love.