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dannystheone · 2 months ago

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Sacrificing Mysterion (Lee Mysterion/ Ler Goth Kids)

Guys this idea took over my brain all of a sudden so now you have to deal with it

I was watching the Cthulu episode with the Goth kids in the alley with Mysterion and I was like how have I not had this idea before-

but anyway :))

I hope you guys enjoy! Take this as kind of a Halloween fic as well while I get a real Halloween fic prepared

WARNINGS: Cursing, smoking, talks of death, talks of torture, talks of sacrifice/acts of sacrifice, chanting, pinning

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE

The Goth Kids are on a mission to sacrifice Mysterion to Cthulu, as they are now Cthulu's minions. But they can't kill him, so what else can they do?

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A lit cigarette was the only illumination in the darkly themed bedroom, smoke unfurling from its smoldering tip. Micheal brought the cigarette to his lips and took a hit, sighing afterward and shaking his curls in irritation. After the failed assassination attempt on Mysterion in the alleyway with the other cultists, the Goth Kids were in a creative rut on how to serve their new master.

They agreed collectively that the only reason why the world still sucked even when Cthulu was on a rampage killing all the hippies and conformists was because Mysterion didn't stay dead as their sacrifice. Now, back in Henrietta's bedroom, the group racked their brains on sacrificing him once more and ensuring it worked this time.

"Maybe he's too much of a brainwashed wannabe to be a proper sacrifice. I mean his brains gotta be mush from all the trashy pop they listen to on the radio. A proper sacrifice has to have some sort of brain, right? It would make sense." Micheal thought out loud as he brought his cigarette away from his lips. Pete shook his head, his hair swaying away from his face.

"Nah, even if you're a carbon copy straight out of Mattel with all the other Barbie's and Ken's in the world, you should stay dead when you're stabbed in the chest. Maybe he got lucky and the cultist missed his heart or something. Unless the conformists really are just made up of plastics and Botox now. Maybe there wasn't a heart to stab." Pete suggested. Henrietta pulled her cigarette away from her lips, sighing out the smoke in her chest as she flipped through the Necronomicon.

"God, there's nothing in here about a proper human sacrifice. This book is fucking useless." Henrietta shut the book with a thump and pushed it to the side with her foot, her hair especially wild with being so frazzled. She was excited about a new dark beginning this world being served by Cthulu could bring, but everything was still frustratingly the same.

"Nothing on Reddit or Wikipedia? That's where you usually go." Firkle asked. He was also looking forward to a new beginning, wondering how things would be where no one would make fun of him for anything anymore.

Henrietta shook her head. "No, there's nothing. I'm starting to think Cthulu doesn't even want a sacrifice. You would think if he did he'd give us some fucking instructions."

"It feels like whatever God you wanna listen to, they're always vague and non-committal. Maybe it's something we're too mortal to not understand." Pete said aloud. The others were inclined to agree.

"If I weren't so pissed off right now, I'd say that's goth as fuck, Pete." Henrietta commented, trying to make some sense of her hair with one hand.

"Maybe if we tire Mysterion out first and then try to kill him? I don't know, maybe he has regenerative powers." Firkle suggested. Micheal rubbed his eyebrow as a headache was starting to form in that spot.

"Firkle, he's not an actual superhero. He's just a stupid backwoods poser wearing a costume with his boxers on the outside of his pants. I'm surprised it's a clean pair and it doesn't have a skidmark on it-"

"How do I fight him."

A deep voice spoke from behind the group. The Goth Kids turned around in sync to see Mysterion knelt in Henrietta's open bedroom window. It was a rainy night tonight, lightning cracking and illuminating the room for a brief moment.

Micheal raised an eyebrow at Mysterion despite his cool entrance.

"Oh joy, it's underwear boy again. Get out of here poser, you ruined our chances at finally getting true darkness and true pain in this world. Instead we're still living in this gay conformist fantasyland." Micheal waved Mysterion away as the anti-hero landed in Henrietta's bedroom and tossed his cape to the side.

"Tell me how to defeat him. Now. That God of yours stole my friends away. They're in real danger because of you. Tell me, now. There's no time to waste." Mysterion demanded. The Goth Kids all exchanged glances with one another, silently considering it. Slowly, small grins of agreeance bloomed on their faces as they understood a silent plan.

Henrietta stood up from her spot on the floor, tapping her cigarette in the ashtray. She walked up to Mysterion and put a hand on her hip.

"Alright dork, listen. We'll tell you how to defeat Cthulu. And you can believe us because we have this-" Henrietta walked over to the Necronomicon and kicked the book onto its front so the cover showed its title. Mysterion's eyes followed and understood. "All you have to do is be a sacrifice for us to Cthulu. And you can defeat him afterward." Henrietta explained. Mysterion's eyes narrowed behind his mask at that.

"How can you want me to be a sacrifice to someone I'm trying to take down? Doesn't that defeat the whole purpose? And I can't die, that's why I'm alive from the alleyway when you assholes stuck that knife in my chest. Doesn't seem like worthy sacrifice material to me." Mysterion said gruffly. Firkle smiled confidently at that. Micheal stood up now next to Henrietta, the rest of the Goth Kids following suit.

"Cthulu is the source of all subconscious anxiety for all of mankind. You don't necessarily have to die, we just need your feelings of anxiety to be sacrificed in the name of the Old One. Besides, if this sacrifice doesn't work again by the time you're going and trying to save your friends, then we'll know it's a crock. Either way, we both get what we want. We get confirmation, and possibly the result we want, and you get an answer." Micheal explained. Henrietta looked at Micheal inquisitively.

"How did you know all of that?" She asked. Micheal shrugged.

"I did some reading too. Apparently Wikipedia did have what we were looking for." He replied.

Mysterion's fists locked tightly. Every second ticked closer and closer to his friends possibly meeting a horrible fate down in the city of R'lyeh where he had last left them. He had no time to waste, and if he weren't so outnumbered he would have just stolen the book for the answers. He had to comply this time. Mysterion closed his eyes and took a breath, centering himself.

"Okay, I'll do it. Tell me what I have to do."

--------

After some deliberating about how to extract Mysterion's feelings of anxiety without getting blood on the carpet and making Henrietta's parents upset, the Goth Kids had Mysterion set up on Henrietta's sacrificial carpet. A five-pointed star was imprinted on the material. Candles were lit and music with ominous tones set the mood.

Mysterion was laid out with each Goth Kid sitting on a respective limb, Pete and Firkle taking his legs and Micheal and Henrietta taking his arms. It didn't look very ceremonial with them sitting on him like this, but Mysterion's heart was already beating in this setup despite the fact. He tried to keep a level head.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn." Pete chanted the sacred text from the Necronomicon. Mysterion looked from side to side, getting more and more tense about this.

"What does that mean? What you're saying." Mysterion craned his neck up and asked when Pete was done. Pete flipped his hair out of his eyes and set the book down.

"'In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.' It basically means that even though he's trapped in R'lyeh, he will eventually return. Which he has. Let's just hope this sacrifice works so we can make his return worth it." Pete said with an annoyed tone.

"Can you just make it quick? My friends are waiting for me in another dimension with only me to save them." Mysterion said heroically. The Goth Kids collectively rolled their eyes at that.

"Yeah sure Captain Mysteri-Suck, we'll speed this up for you." Pete groaned as he settled into position on Mysterion's leg and prepped his fingers.

Mysterion tugged each limb, not liking how secure he was in this position. But he supposed that was the entire point. To be anxious and uncomfortable. He had some give with the limb Firkle was sitting on because of how light he was, but that was made up for by the rest of the group on him. He just hoped his hands and feet wouldn't be numb by the end of this.

"So, what will you do? Stab me again? Carve sigils into me?" Mysterion asked. Micheal blew out the smoke in his chest with a huff.

"Pfft- No, genius. What do you think we're fucking sadists? We're just gonna do this-" Henrietta and Micheal put down their cigarettes and immediately dove right in. Fingers started scribbling and wiggling into Mysterion's open ribs and armpits, their fingers sliding over his costume easily.

Mysterion being taken by surprise by this tactic was an understatement. His eyes widened, surprised laughter escaping his chest at his regular pitched voice before it took everything in him to pitch his laughter down to Mysterion's tone of voice.

"Hahahaha! Wh-whahat thehe fuhuhuck?! St-Stohohop!" The anti-hero's eyes squinted behind his mask in his laughter as Henrietta winced at the sound. Her black acrylics scratched and raked against Mysterion's ribs, a method that seemed to already be driving him up the wall.

"Euch- I think I would have rather carved sigils into myself than hear your childlike laughter barf into my ears. It's like I'm in a live studio audience for the Disney Channel. Spare me." Henrietta rolled her eyes at Mysterion's laughter and kept up her unenthused tickling.

Mysterion pulled at his limbs as a reflex, his arms and legs jerking and tensing in an attempt to free himself. Micheal's long artist fingers spidered down to Mysterion's side and started squishing there, causing the anti-hero to jump and belt out his laughter.

"G-Gehehet ohohohoff! Gehehet ohohohoff nohohohoo!! Dohohohon't dohohoho thihihis!!" Mysterion was finding it extremely challenging to keep his voice pitched to Mysterion's deep tone of voice, especially since his laughter was very much forced and spontaneous.

"Oh wow, should we listen to the sacrifice and actually stop you guys? What do you think? Do you want to help your friends or not, buttmunch?" Micheal groaned and used all five fingers in Mysterion's side to claw it, causing a squeal out of the tough hero that definitely was not Mysterion-pitched.

"I mean, it sounds like you did your friends a favor. They're down in R'lyeh, the Nightmare Corpse-City. They're so stupid lucky. I'd give anything to trade places with them." Pete said aloud. He decided it was his turn to get into the mix, but he hated that he had Mysterion's leg to work with. He decided to just start squishing around Mysterion's knee, which worked tremendously in his favor anyway. Mysterion already started kicking and pulling away from him.

"NOHO-hohoho!! I hahahave tohohoho sahahahave thehehem!! Buhuhuhut thihihihis fuhuhuhucking suhuhuhucks!!" Mysterion shouted, battling his own voice for control on pitching his tone back down to its deep register. He twisted and bucked his hips, trying to get free by any means, even for just a second.

"Well yeah, you didn't think subconscious anxiety was going to come easily, did you? I swear, brainwashed jocks never use their heads. It's why they're all braindead mindless sheep." Henrietta mused. Her fingers made their way into Mysterion's armpit, her acrylics sliding back and forth in the hollow which was killer.

"Stahahahap!! Dohohon't gohohohoho in thehehere!! Gehehet ahahaha-ohohout!" Mysterion pleaded with Henrietta, which was exactly why she kept her fingers exactly where they were and kept scratching in his armpit.

"You can't possibly believe that you're the victim here. We have to listen to your incessant boyish laughter that's making my eardrums puke blood while we put our hands on you with your underwear outside of your pants. If anything, we're the ones making the sacrifice." Micheal commented, his right hand staying at Mysterion's side scratching and his other hand reaching to his stomach and spidering all over it. Mysterion bucked his hips at this and threw his head back in laughter.

"Ahahahaha!! Plehehehease plehehehease!! Ahahahat leheheheast mahahake ihihihit eheheheasier!! Thihihihis ihihihihis ahahahahass!!" Mysterion begged, not liking to have to stoop so low as to plead with the people torturing him, but he had no other choice. Being killed hundreds of different times in hundreds of different ways, he's done that. But this was something else entirely.

"Your laughing makes me want to barf." Firkle said simply, his small fingers crawling underneath Mysterion's knee and scribbling in the hollow. Mysterion squealed and started pulling on that leg in particular.

"I don't get you dime-a-dozen conformist losers. You beg us for our help and then we give to you and then you ask us to stop? Typical Normies. Real life takes real sacrifice. Not your bleached blonde fake spray tan Hollywood prop fake fantasy world you live in." Henrietta used acrylic-covered nails to scribble and scratch over all the surface area she could reach on her side, from Mysterion's armpit to the middle of his stomach.

Mysterion started belting out laughter; his previous attempts at trying to pitch down his laughs were tossed out the window. His laugh came across high and clear like a bell chime, filling the room with its presence. Mysterion bucked his hips in an attempt to get the prying fingers off, in his armpits all the way down to his knees and everything in between. This had to be the strangest thing he's ever done for his friends. Hell, the strangest thing he's ever done period.

"Nohohoho nohoho I'm sahahaha-!! I'm sohohorry!! I-hehehehee!! I dihihihidn't mehehehean ihihihit lihihihihike thahahat!!" Mysterion's eyes were screwed shut as his laughter kept climbing to new octaves rather than the opposite that he desperately wanted.

"How long until you think the sacrifice is fulfilled? Should we make him laugh until he's dead? He said he can come back." Pete suggested, squishing his hands up and down Mysterion's thigh but avoiding getting too high up for obvious reasons. Mysterion shook his head vigorously at this idea.

"Dohohohohon't nohohohoho!! I'll dihihihihihie!!" Mysterion shouted, his lips stretched back to show little canines in his mouth. Micheal noticed this and was secretly jealous. He'd always wanted something like that. It made him press his fingers into Mysterion's tummy harder to tickle him more.

"Well no shit, genius. God... it's kinda the whole idea of a sacrifice." Pete deferred the decision to Micheal and Henrietta as he focused on squishing and squeezing Mysterion's thigh. The material that his costume was made out of made it easy to slide his fingers up and down.

"Buhuhuhuhut I mehehehean- I mehehehean I'll dihihihie lihihihike- Gohohohod stohohohohop!! Lihihihike I'll dihihihihie!!" Mysterion tried pleading his case in a not-very-convincing way. The Goth Kids all looked around at each other while their tickling continued to see if anyone could make sense of his words.

"He's starting to go crazy already. He's speaking gibberish." Firkle determined. Both of his small hands were under Mysterion's knee now, scratching over the synthetic material.

"Ohohoo cohohome ohohohohon!!" Mysterion whined. His chest and belly were already starting to hurt, as well as his joints from the pulling. He was starting to think that maybe getting killed was a good option here, but then he'd be leaving without the book, which he couldn't have.

"Sacrifices don't get a say in how they're sacrificed. The Mayans and Aztecs can tell you that. On the bright side, you've graduated from annoying trash conformist to useful sacrifice. Consider yourself lucky." Micheal shrugged and spidered some long fingers over Mysterion's belly button, to which Mysterion could say nothing to and just laughed. His cheeks were starting to ache from smiling.

"I-hehehehee!! I tahahahahap!! Gahahame ohohohover!! Uhuhuhuncle!! Whahahatever you wahahahant buhuhuhut plehehehease!! Mehehehercy!!" Mysterion squirmed and twisted underneath the Goth Kids, to which they decided maybe that was enough.

"He does look anxious, I guess. And I'm getting anxiety from all of your happy-go-lucky giggling." Henrietta groaned.

"Really? I'm getting heartburn. Yeah, I guess it worked." Micheal agreed. The Goth Kids all started getting off of Mysterion's limbs; Mysterion laying on the carpet and breathing in copious amounts of oxygen for a moment.

"Here's the Necronomicon, Wonder Boy. Just bring it back to school when you're done with it. And I swear to Satan if there's any tears or stains on it when you give it back to me- well, I think that'd make it look more Goth but don't make it look gross, I guess." Henrietta picked the book up and put it at Mysterion's side as he was getting up, clutching his side.

"I-huhh- I'm.." Mysterion took a second to bring his voice down to its deep register, but his voice was clearly strained. The Goth Kids all returned to their usual positions around Henrietta's room and looked at the anti-hero collect himself.

"Th-Thank you, for your help. I'm going to help my friends with this," Mysterion said, gesturing with the book.

"May we never cross paths again, 'cause this fucking sucked." Mysterion tucked the book away in a mysterious pocket and vanished out of Henrietta's window into the night.

"...So what should we do with the rest of our night?" Pete asked.

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