#getting the resident evil brain maggots

[goblin-meat]

I want him to call me a pretty boy

[miraclesnail]

title still pending, wip, chapter 3

chapter 1 2 next chapter

When you think of Travis Stoll, what comes to mind? Powerful? Intelligent? A protagonist? More like weak, a bit on the air-headed side, and a minor character at best. So why is he being chased by a crazy man with a foot long butcher knife?

When Travis was nine, Castor and Pollux snuck them a DVD from the outside world. It was a movie called Resident Evil. And like the mean, pseudo-big-brothers they are, Castor said, “It’s a funny movie.” 

“It’s a safe movie,” Pollux followed. 

It wasn’t fun and it wasn’t safe.

Instead it gave Travis a healthy dose of zombie phobia. 

It lasted up until he was 17, around the time when Nico decided to stay full time as a yearrounder. The kid used his zombie army for everything. Building his cabin, getting him snacks, attending counselor meetings. They’re actually pretty docile and interesting once Travis got over the fear of them turning into raving, brain-chomping zombies.

Well, whatever Nico did for his zombie-phobia is all undone. Right now. Right at this moment. 

The thing inching towards him on its stomach groans like the hungry brain-eating zombie it is, muffled due to its face planted solidly into the broken tile floor. 

Travis tries not to whimper (he does though) as he scoots back on his butt from the thing. He wants to run. He wants to rollerblade away. He wants to be anywhere but here. But all of that requires access to his hands which he unfortunately does not have access to right now.

He pulls lightly on the handcuffs binding his wrists together. They graft uncomfortably on his skin and he stops. The thing groans as the metal links on the handcuffs jingle and seem to shuffle even faster towards him. It’s head is rising (oh god, oh please no.) enough for Travis to see eyeless sockets, broken jaw swarming with maggots, blue skin tinge with mold and fungi, and — 

Okay, he has enough. 

“Hey, uh, Michael?” he calls out hesitantly.

His once dead but now alive and well, and also the reason for him being tied up, friend does not respond. So Travis tries again, this time louder. “Hey, Michael.”

Nothing. 

Dude, what has he done to piss off Michael? They were on great terms before Michael had died! 

…

Michael died. Michael is dead. So this person in front of him couldn’t be Michael. Because Michael is dead. Michael died. 

Who is he then? A lookalike? A twin brother? A clone?

You know what? This is an issue Travis will leave for another time. A more pressing matter is rearing its ugly head with each passing second. That thing is a foot away from him now. 

“Michael,” Travis tries again only to be ignored again. And fine with him. He knows exactly what will make Michael talk. “Mike. Mikey. Mic. Saint Michael. Mikey-angelo. Miiiiichaeeeeeel. Miiiichaeeeellllllllll.”

And as expected, Michael snaps, “What?” His brown eyes alight with such familiar anger that Travis can’t help but stare. The intensity, the way Michael scrunches his face, the absolutely familiar face of irritation is all very Michael-like. Though, it was never him at the end of Michael’s temper. It had always been Clarisse.

“Can you do something about the… uh… you know.” Michael still glares at him and okay, Michael is really gonna make him say it. Travis finishes the sentence lamely, “The zombie. Can you get rid of the zombie?”

He waits for the ridicule, the jiving, the “oh gods, you’re such an idiot. Zombies aren’t real.” but instead all he gets is an arrow piercing the thing’s head in a millisecond.

Travis jumps, tied hands clenching his chest at the speed of the arrow. He smiles gratefully and relaxes his shoulder. “Thanks. I really—”

“Shut up.”

And Travis snaps his jaws shut and endure the uncomfortable silence they delve into. He twiddles his thumbs. He taps his feet. He thinks about how Michael is now alive. The doors of death are open again? Michael decides to make a break for the real world? Michael decides to take revenge for his untimely death caused by Luke by messing with him? 

But none of that explains why everything is so… bleak and apocalyptic. New York is destroyed. **(add more later)** Most of the buildings are gone and the remaining ones are compromised. The tiles and walls have green junk growing out of them. These things, zombies, did not exist before. 

This… all of this… it has to be an elaborate prank by Connor, right? A prank that Connor somehow manages to convince Nico and Hazel to join in on? Yeah… yeah. That makes sense. Nico and Hazel made the zombies. Annabeth designed this fake, apocalyptic New York. Percy and Jason can be the one causing the storm outside. This has to be it. There’s no other explanation. **Now to figure out what Travis did to deserve all this… 

Only one way to get answers. 

“So Michael—” he begins.

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

That went nowhere. 

Micheal crosses his arms, not moving from where he’s leaning on the crumbling wall. He’s frowning, staring intently at him. Like he’s waiting for him to do something. Like he’s waiting for him to make a run for it. But the crossbow resting snugly against Michael’s leg with all its beautiful, entirely real arrows assures Travis will do nothing. 

Except maybe scratch the itch at the back of his head.

The second his hands move up, Michael has the crossbow up and aims at his face.

Okay, no scratching the itch. Maybe he could just use his shoulder or the wall behind him. 

He lowers his hand and chuckles nervously, “Okay, sorry, sorry.” 

Michael didn’t lower the crossbow though.

Michael didn’t smile and say, ‘just kidding.’

Michael didn’t pull his mask off to reveal he’s actually Connor. 

Instead all Michael does is rest his finger on the trigger.

Oh gods. He’s really going to die here.

“Aren’t you going to make a run for it?” Michael says.

“Run?” he chuckles, “How am I going to run with you pointing a crossbow on my face?!”

Michael frowns. “You’re going to hurt Beckendorf’s feelings if you don’t try. He’s certain he created restraints even you can’t break out of.” **

Beckendorf. Another dead friend being spoken about like he’s alive. Yeah, why not. He’ll play along with whatever game this is. “Well, I’m sorry but I can’t break out of these.” And to prove it, he tugs on the cuffs and makes the link jingles. 

Michael scowls, the crossbow lowering just a tad. “You’re not even trying, asshole.”

The word comes automatically without him thinking. Connor likes to curse. Cecil sometimes too. Julia and Alice do it often as well. When he’s in a cabin full of little kids as young as 7, parents do not appreciate their kid coming back from the special summer camp knowing all the bad words a kid shouldn’t know. And since he’s the oldest, the blame falls on him. He, of course, makes Chiron take the heat of their parent’s complains but it still leaves a bad taste on his tongue. 

“Don’t curse,” he says on instinct.

Michael stiffens. He grips his crossbow tighter. 

“Travis,” Michael says slowly. At least he got his name right. “Why are you… acting … this way?”

“What way? I’ve always been this way.”

Michael exhales and steps closer. He kneels so they’re eye level and with a very careful eye, studies his face with excruciating focus. It’s very uncomfortable and Travis deals with uncomfortable situations the only way he knows how. 

With his trademark smirk, he shouts, “Boo!”

Expectedly, Michael jumps back and Travis makes himself laugh. Unexpectedly, Michael is back by his side, this time with fear in his eyes. With a very gentle hand, Michael touches his shoulder. Travis isn’t weirded out by touching. But it always came from Connor or his younger siblings. And Michael, before he died, was never a touchy-feely kind of person. 

Maybe he should jumpscare him again. 

With a careful voice, Michael says, “Travis, what are you wearing?”

He looks down and sees nothing out of the ordinary. “What do you mean?’

“Where did you get the shirt?” Michael’s voice is strained.

“My … shirt? From the camp store?”

Michael breathes harder. “Why are you wearing it?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to wear? Newsflash, Michael but this orange shirt is all camp has,” Travis jokes, hoping Michael will laugh but all Michael is doing is breathing harder and harder. 

“Travis, please, tell me you’re pulling my leg right now,” Michael pleads with tears in his eyes.

Travis blinks in alarm. Michael is on the verge of crying. Michael has tears in his eyes. Michael is pleading with him. This isn’t a joke, is it?

“I don’t know what you mean,” he answers truthfully, wincing at Michael’s face falling further, “I have no idea what’s going on actually. I, uh, thought you were Connor in a mask, but now I’m not so sure anymore.” 

Michael chokes and a violent shudder runs through his body. Callous hands grip his shoulder and shake him harshly. “Are you on drugs right now? Is that why you’re acting so strange? God fucking damn it, Travis! What the fuck!” Michael yells. 

“I— uh— um—” 

 Oh gods, what is he supposed to say?

Michael pulls him up by the front of his shirt. Travis stumbles unevenly on his feet. Even that seems to panic Michael more because he starts patting him down again, skipping over his secret stash. 

He squirms against the proding, whining, “Why are you doing this again? I told you I have nothing hidden.”

“You have nothing on you. No weapons. No equipment. No nothing. Fuck. Travis, are you fucking crazy?!” 

“Am I supposed to have something on me?”

This time Michael didn’t even answer his question, instead pulling an eyelid back. Travis flinches from the sudden proximity and tries to pull away but Michael wasn’t having any of it. 

“Did you take something? What was it?”

“Other than tylenol for my headache this morning, nothing,” Travis says. 

Michael scowls, “Bullshit. You’re acting weird. You’re acting like you did back then. You’re tan for whatever reason and… and…” Michael grabs his wrist and turns them over till the palms face up. He’s deathly silent. “Your scars are gone.”

His eyes trail back up. “All your scars are gone.”

“Yeah…well,” Travis pulls his arms out of Michael’s hands and shuffles back. “Mike, you’re really freaking me out right now.”

“Travis… you’re really Travis, right?” Michael whispers, not following after him. 

“The one and only,” he says, eyes looking away as he shuffles back some more, unsure of what to say next. There’s something in the shadows. There’s something moving in the shadows. There’s someone in the shadows. But it’s not shuffling like a zombie would so it’s probably not a — 

A gust of wind lifts them both up from the ground. Terror grips his heart and Michael yelps in alarm. Just a few meters behind them is a drop from an unimaginable height. They’re going to die. But rather than push out, the wind lifts them further and further up to where their back touches the ceiling. 

It feels like one of those gravity roller coasters in the fair. A force is pushing him onto the surface and it’s impossibly difficult to lift a hand against the gravity. Except there’s no rollercoaster causing this. And this experience is nowhere near as fun as the one in the fair. 

Michael struggles valiantly, twisting and turning and screaming to be put down. His crossbow lies below them. 

The person in the shadow moves closer, stumbling in an uneven gait, shambling like they’re drunk.

Crap, was it actually a zombie?!

But, wait, no. The zombie is laughing, manic and high, and zombies can’t laugh. 

“Caught two! I caught two!”

And zombies can’t talk. 

“I’m going to be fed for decades!”

But zombies eat flesh and oh god it is a zombie. 

The pressure intensifies and he can’t move. He can’t breathe. He’s being crushed. He’s being suffocated. 

The zombie moves from the shadows and into the dim light. And maybe Travis is dreaming, maybe he’s hallucinating, maybe he just ate something bad and is going through a full blown bacteria-induced hallucination, but the zombie that stumbles into view shares a face very, very similar to that of Lou Ellen, counselor of Hecate cabin.

Lou Ellen laughs freely, head thrown back and arm clutching her stomach. She steps closer and he notices something was wrong with her left leg. It shouldn’t be caved in the calf area. It shouldn’t be curved inwards at all. He shouldn’t be able to see the red sinews of the muscles and the telltale white of the bone. 

“Oh. It’s you. Hey, there,” Lou Ellen says and she steps closer until he can see her face, beyond happy, beyond crazed.*** 

She gives a wide, blood stained smile. 

“Nice to see you again.”  

He wakes up with the burning, excruciating pain in his neck. But it lasted only for two seconds before it all went away and he could breathe again, could think again. 

He always wakes silently. Sometimes zombies would claw their way to his living quarters and being absolutely still and listening first has saved him from bites many times. 

Clarisse’s voice is what he hears first. Maybe he’s been captured but he’s still alive for some reason. He wouldn’t think they would capture him and not sacrifice him right away unless they struck a new deal with the gods. 

“We should crack open his mind. Take a good look at what’s inside.”

“No, we can’t. That’s invading his privacy.”

Clarisse is arguing with someone. The other voice is unfamiliar. 

“He’s an enemy. We can’t treat a threat like he’s our friend.”

“But that’s Travis! We can’t—”

“Travis decapitated Mr. D, eviscerated Chiron, and tore my knee a new one. He’s fucking dangerous, Holly. Laurel, you shut the fuck up too.”

Oh. It’s Holly and Laurel. … What are they doing with Clarisse?

He keeps still, keeps his breathing even, and surveys his situation. He’s resting on a cushioned surface on his back. His wrists are bound with metal. One on each wrist and they extend outwards. Not linked together. He senses, more than feel, that it’s just a simple master lock with a standard key. The basics of basics. He can undo this in a millisecond. 

He listens closely, taking in the creaking of wood and the scuffing of shoes. There’s a person right next to him. Maybe 15 or 20 total in the room. If it had just been Michael and Clarisse, he could escape just fine. But they somehow got new people. Where did they get new people? They’re not exactly in supply.  

“You guys, maybe we should wake Travis up and have a talk with him.” Another voice he doesn’t recognize. 

“And have him go crazy trying to kill Percy again? Dude, no. That’s not a good idea. Six people couldn’t restrain him.” [That voice is Leo’s.]

“But we’re not getting any answers with him asleep. Besides he’s tied up and there’s 20 of us. I can charmspeak if we really need to,” the person beside him says. [Piper.]

“Alright, Clovis, wake him up. Everybody else be on guard,” a girl commands and involuntarily his hands curl into the sheets. Annabeth said that. No doubt. That’s Annabeth’s voice. Clear. Precise. Said a name. This isn’t reality then. Gods-induced illusion? Or did he finally die and this is his eternal hell?

“He’s already awake.”

Chairs scoot on wood and he can hear the boards creaking. Metal clinks around the room. Are they drawing their weapon? Why?

[I decapitated the God and gutted the centaur.] Oh. 

“Drop the act, Travis,” Annabeth demands. 

He opens his eyes and winces at the sunlight. It’s so bright. And quiet. It’s so quiet. The absence of rain after months and years of constant downpour… it’s jarring. It feels unnatural. Someone coughs and slowly, unhurriedly, inch by inch, he turns his head to the side to quickly glance at the people on the other side of the room. All of them standing and all of them either gripping the hilt of their weapon or hiding behind another person. 

[They’re scared. I didn’t mean to… I wouldn’t have… if I known they were going to freak out like this… maybe I should have blown the immortals up instead.] I think that’ll still be an issue. 

He recognizes a couple. Clarisse. Will. Katie. Conn— he tears his eyes to the next person. He doesn’t recognize her. Nor the next demigod and the next and the next until his eyes land on Perseus. By instinct, his hands reach for the weapons on his belt, but they lay several feet away on a table. Two demigods are sorting through his weapons. 

He calms the murderous, bloodthirsty need in him and looks to the next person, to Annabeth. He stares at her. At her golden locks. At the ponytail. At the familiar sternness of her face, the familiar sharp gaze. It’s her. It’s really her. 

A chair creaks nearby and he glances upwards. It was Piper sitting beside him. She stiffens when they make eye contact but she remains seated. 

“Hey,” she says curtly. 

“Hey,” he mutters awkwardly. 

You’re right. Piper has a really nice voice. [I know, right?]

He turns his head back to the ceiling and closes his eyes. There’s around 20 demigods in this room. More than half he does not recognize. And the half he does recognize, he can’t overpower by himself. Not an illusion then. Not hell then. He digs his nails into his thigh and considers the pain. This is reality. 

[I think we can still make a break for it]

A chair screeches against the hardwood and he winces at the grating noise. It’s too loud. His neck itches. And he goes to scratch it. The handcuffs only allow him a couple inches off the convertible sofa. But even that is too much to give. They should have secured it all the way down. They even gave him a pillow for his head. Stupid idiots. 

“Travis,” Annabeth says, “If you cooperate with us, everything will go smoothly and nobody will be hurt. So I’m going to need you to answer a few questions.” 

Something groans beside him and he snaps his eyes to it and oh. It’s just a branch against the window. 

“Why did you attack Percy?” Annabeth continues, undeterred.

He can see the tips of the pine trees and the very clear, very blue skies, not a single cloud in sight. 

“Travis, answer me.”

A bird flies freely, soaring without a care in the empty sky.

“Travis.”

There’s a gentle breeze outside, not a howling hurricane. 

“Travis? Are you listening?”

The sun is shining. There are birds flying. The leaves are green. Annabeth is alive. Connor is alive. Leo and Piper are alive too. Everything is alive and brimming.

Why? 

The boy he thought was Connor, the one he chased through the entire building from one end to the other, the one who confidently said his name, must actually be Travis. Did the clover allow him to time travel? To a past where nothing has gone wrong yet? No, that can’t be. The other Travis must have been the same age as him. [Piper and Leo were never at your camp at any point.]

“Percy, bring it over.” 

Then what is this? 

“Why do you have this?”

He peeks an eye open, glances at what Annabeth holds in her hands. It’s just a phone. Why is she so confused by it?

“Neat thing you have here.” Annabeth flips the phone in a hand, flipping it back and forth in faux-nonchalant observation. “It doesn’t emit our signals. You can’t attract monsters with this.”

He frowns. The way she’s talking… like she had never seen … when she had advocated for its creation for so long… *****

Annabeth hums curiously. She taps the screen once to activate it. “Who is ‘**Melon Lord?’ Weird name. They've been messaging you non-stop.”

Shit. 

It takes all he has to roll his head to the side. Annabeth holds the phone screen out for him to read, but still far enough he can’t reach it. He winces at the barrage of texts he sees.

“Yo yo yo! It’s your savior here with another daily update! I’m alive as you can see. How are you doing this fine hour? Still kicking, I hope? The others are making quite a commotion. I think they’re saying they caught you? You in trouble? Need help?”

“Yooo Travis? You're dead or what?”

“Travis?”

“Dude, I know you’re reading this.”

“Hey, you okay?”

“Travis?”

“Okay, it isn’t funny anymore. Text me back now.” 

Annabeth takes the phone back and scrolls through the limited notifications with a scowl. “Who is this person? They’re really concerned.”

Commotion? Shit. That’s right. Michael. Michael is the reason why he’s here. After he’s pushed in, what happened? Did … did Michael catch his other self? Is Michael taking him back to their base right now?!

Shit. Fuck. 

[No, wait, calm down. Let’s think this through.]

Easier said than done when his heart is beating faster by minute with fear. 

“Travis?” Annabeth’s voice is stern but there’s a crease in her eyebrows, eyes tinged with worry. 

“I…” But his voice is raspy and he gulps, wetting his mouth before trying again. “Give me back my phone. I need to call someone.”

“Call who?” She asks, face blank. “Who are you going to call?”

“S-” but he stops. 

His knowledge of the world and theirs is conflicting. 

But this isn’t an illusion. Isn’t a dream. Isn’t time travel. 

Annabeth sighs. “You know, Travis, for as long as we know each other, you never seem like the type of person to be a double agent.”

A different world then. [A parallel universe, an alternate universe] 

“We all trusted you back then when Luke left and Chiron always sent you and Connor out on a lot of quests.” 

A world where Camp Half Blood is still standing. ***

“You guys always succeeded.”

A world where everyone is alive. 

She flips the phone to its back cover and taps the insignia, a simple gold scythe, on the bottom corner.

“Hey, tell me, Travis.” Annabeth stands above, leering down over him with her piercing gray eyes. 

A world where everything is okay. 

“Was it because you were pulling the strings behind our backs?”

A world where he made the right choice and didn’t join Kronos’s cause. 

[thegamingcatmom]

Hello and welcome to the next part of what-the-actual-fuck and believe me when I tell yall - no gif in the world could´ve explained SOME of the madness going on in this one.

Also, special shout-out to my pee-anon whose ask has inspired me to write this.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

And, it has to be said, it is a rather precarious situation you find yourself in right now. Half your body hanging down and over the bed - headfirst - as you desperately try to get a grip on something, anything-

Clawing at the worn-out carpet, being pulled back, pushing your hands and arms against the wooden footboard because no, you´ve come this far already despite Its persistent hold on your hips, insisting - demanding - for you to quit your antics and return to where you belong but you can´t let it, won´t let it because you´re close, so close to actually making it and c´mon! - just a bit further you have to! because-

Fuck, you need to pee!

And It simply not caring about it and, granted, you didn´t really expect to be met with something that at least resembles understanding when you had the audacity to interrupt today´s rendezvous with your dramatics yet again but, at this point, you´re absolutely certain It just loves torturing you, thrives on it and why wouldn´t it? That's what It is - pure evil that lives for utter carnage.

You´re not sure you even know what exactly It is - a ghost? a demon? the devil itself? - but you recognize that twinkle its eyes hold in this very moment. The same twinkle you saw when It brutally slaughtered these innocent souls - mocking you for hiding yourself away and choosing to watch rather than do something, anything because it's your fault-

But, you see, this is all just one big misunderstanding, truly.

Maggot Momma had to wait forever (to her, it felt much longer) for you to wake up and when you finally did there was just no stopping that chain reaction - already on top and mounting you before your eyes had even fully opened - because how could you expect it to when you´re there and she´s also there and that smell of yours and it´s been so long since you´ve both been together like this (it´s been two hours) and your smell, heavens!-

You didn´t even have a chance to move a muscle yet, just so opening your eyes, when you felt clawed, rather big hands take hold of your hips and start pulling you towards...something and even though you´ve lost all sense of time ever since “residing” in this cursed building you do know it´s way too early for batshittery and your brain hasn´t even started functioning properly yet ffs-

You´re being pulled along the stained bedsheets, your hands absentmindedly making a grabbing motion because your body´s slowly starting to wake up and - ugh, can you get at least one full night of sleep before It´s on the prowl again? - you can feel It starting to get into position, both Its legs on either side of yours, clawed hands leaving your hips and coming up to rest on either side of your head - just a tad bit higher even - and you see Its claws already starting to dig in, preparing for what´s to come. The rest of Its body slowly starting to lower down, down, down until - suddenly - It lets out a throaty growl mixed with a strange hissing sound and, for a moment, you actually fear It´s gonna lose it before things have even started and It´s just gonna rip into you then and there when-

Maggot Momma stretches one long arm to the side, clawing at one of the pillows because this will just not do. She needs you higher, closer for that perfect angle so she can get lost in perfection - you and her perfectly aligned - and so that pillow´s shoved under your crotch, clawed hand shooting up to it´s former position, body pressing down and down and rocking forward until-

Yes, this is bliss, absolute perfection!

You hate to admit it but, by now, you´ve come to recognize Its movements, Its sounds, and you can tell by the way It moves Its hips in a sort of searching way - left, right, up, right again, down, up - and by the way Its breath is almost nonexistent save for the occasional huff and puff - mouth hanging slightly open - you can just tell...that you´re in for a rather long one this time. Well, that´s just perfect, just your luck for having the tiniest bladder in the world which, right at this moment, does not like the pressure it´s receiving, at all and fuck!-

Its hips must´ve finally found that spot because, suddenly-

Arms giving out - upper body crashing down, head landing just above yours - resulting in your upper body being pressed into the mattress, almost suffocating because you didn´t even have time to turn your head and the pillow under your crotch not helping your current predicament because, due to your raised position, all of Its weight is pushing against your rear right now and It´s starting to move Its hips in earnest now - back forth back forth back forth - and you´ve finally managed to turn your head to the side and sweet, sweet air!-

That feeling of sweet relief is short-lived, however, because It's started to gyrate Its hips now, grinding against that spot It´s found before over and over and it´s no fun because It has chosen a spot that puts direct pressure on your poor bladder and it´s not fair because you didn´t even get a chance to pi-

“Aahh!”

...

You couldn´t help it, it´s your body´s natural reaction to being tortured. That squeal left your mouth before you could stop it and ever since?

Silence. Movement has ceased to exist.

And Maggot Momma?

Frozen, turned into stone - stuck in her position of, quite literally, mounting (and almost suffocating) you - and not daring to move a muscle because-

～Ooh...～

How very interesting indeed.

And here she thought there could be no sweeter sound than your perfect mouth calling her ～Mommy～.

She has to hear it again, needs to hear it again-!

And again and again and again and again and again-

After what felt like hours Its hips have picked up that rythm again, like they´re searching for something - up, down, up, right, left, down, right-

“Fuck!”

And grinding against that spot over and over and upper body pressing down further, legs pulling up and together to keep you in that position because-

fuckshitfuckingmotherofJESUS-!

You must be in heaven right now, making the sweetest sounds, starting to squirm and trash about even so she has to grip you just a bit tighter - legs squeezing together, hips grinding harder, clawed hand coming down and pressing that pillow closer - Maggot Momma´s doing everything she can so you would just keep singing for her-

Just for her-!

This is torture, complete agony-

If only you had been given the chance to take care of nature´s fucking call first, it would´ve been minutes, not even worth mentioning but It clearly doesn´t care because why would it when It´s pure evil and thrives on torturing you-

You´re so desperate for that sweet, sweet relief that you actually have the guts to swat at It like you´re trying to rid yourself of a pesky fly (which ain´t too far off) - your arm reaches back and you blindly start swinging it around in hopes to hit something, anything. Your legs start shooting up and coming back down onto the bedsheets with a slap!, kicking backwards and out to the sides - anything to throw It off and make a beeline for that bathroom.

And oh my, you have no idea what all of that does to Maggot Momma. Seeing you going absolutely feral, just for her, makes her more than tingle in all the right places-

It drives her mad, urges her to comply and scratch that itch-

A clawed hand rushing down to rip that pillow out from under you, throwing it somewhere - what once aided her in keeping you up and aligned with her is now nothing more than an obstacle, keeping her from giving you what you so clearly desire.

That same hand now returning and disappearing in between your legs to take hold of you there, gripping you to push you up and against her as Maggot Momma´s body deflates, collapses onto you, other hand still digging into the mattress, head coming to burry itself in your hair - your smell driving her absolutely crazy - hips picking up speed, already starting to drool-

shitshitshitshit!

No way you´re gonna piss yourself just because It has decided you´re interesting enough to keep around for god-knows-how-long, you simply refuse, even if you die trying-

You´re trashing about in earnest now - whole body shaking - even going for a headbutt-

Only for one of Its clawed hands - the one that´s currently not groping you - to come up and take a hold of your throat, giving it a good squeeze - a warning, no doubt.

Fuck it.

Your hand rushes up to grab the one that could potentially snap your neck, hitting it, clawing at it and when that does absolutely nothing you reach behind to do the very same thing to Its face - only for It to let out a snicker that sounds more like hissing. Fuck, that thing´s persistent-

But suddenly, one of your fingers is met with a rather soft, slippery tissue and It let´s out a wail-

Bull's-eye!

You´ve managed to stun It just enough for It to loosen Its grip on you and you´re clawing at the bedsheets, kicking at the mattress, crawling as fast as you can to get off the bed for that sweet, sweet relief and you´ve actually made it, about to get up when-

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

It has taken a hold of your ankle, pulling you along the worn-out carpet and back to the bed. You try to get a hold of something, anything - clawing at the carpet - your rear is starting to lift up - pushing your hands and arms against the wooden footboard - It has taken a hold of your hips now, claws nearly sinking in - holding onto the foot of the bed as tight as you can - but It gives one last, sharp tug and-

～Now, now...～

Although, it has to be said, she truly didn´t expect for you to accidently stab her eye in the process. But oh my, what a sight you were! - swinging around, almost feverish, with want, with need. That little “incident” only served to prove that to her and she feels overcome with desire, with a craving, to show you just how you´re making her tingle in all the right places and-

Her poor little Drama Queen. So overcome by her ministrations, so sensitive to them. She does tend to get a little overzealous when it comes to anything that is you, but who can blame her? She just wants to smother you, climb into you now and forever! and she almost started cooing when you began to claw at her like possessed, needing - demanding - more of what she gave you. She was only all too happy to comply of course, grabbing you by your throat and squeezing just enough for you to feel it, get you going.

It has managed to pull you back up onto the bed, coming up behind you for a moment to press Its body flush against yours - nose immersed in your hair, eyes closing, claws digging into the bedsheets before Its head moves down to take a rather loud whiff of your neck and you feel a long, cold tongue licking a path from your shoulder all the way to your ear, before it wanders into it-

Well that´s new.

Tongue retracting again after what felt like hours (it´s been 12 seconds) and, suddenly, you´re flipped onto your back, staring right into Its bright, gleamy eyes.

It starts lowering down, down, down - never breaking eye contact - pressing Its body flush against yours yet again, nose almost touching yours and you can´t help but notice that breath, my god-!

Clawed hands moving down to slip under your rear and lift it just a bit more - properly aligning you with It - and now Its whole weight is resting on top of you and, more importantly, on your poor bladder-

fuckshitfuckingmotherofsweetJESUS-

Hips start moving again, eyes looking into your very soul - looking for signs of defiance you imagine, daring you to pull another stunt like the one before - and Its breath gets rather shallow and uneven now - short bursts of air repeatedly hitting your face, moving your hair ever so slightly and your eyes start to water because it fucking stinks-

More importantly though - your bladder is about to BURST-

You´re back to trashing about, going berserk - slapping and scratching Its back, Its face - only for It to snap at you like a rabid dog, teeth coming together with a pop! - and your legs start kicking out again in hopes to throw It off, only to realize-

This does absolutely nothing!

Tearing your gaze away, throwing your head back to look for something, anything that could be of use to you right now and your eyes land on-

Scissors? Have these been here this WHOLE time??

They´re right there! - right in front of you on the bench and your arm is already shooting above and behind you to grab it when you feel teeth clamping down on your throat - nearly suffocating you - and It releases a guttural growl, effectively deterring you from your goal for a moment because those teeth are way too close to your jugular and Its hips going mad now - back forth back forth back forth - because-

This is bliss, absolute perfection! You´re perfection!

Seeing you lose it - offering your throat to her in lust, in want, showing submission - almost makes her lose it and the urge to bite down on something is simply too strong so her head shoots down, mouth opening and teeth clamping down and down, almost puncturing skin-

Careful now...

- letting up a bit but still trapping you, holding onto you because she´s close so close!-

And you´re about done with this shitshow.

Its teeth have let up a bit, letting you breathe again and you´re reminded of-

Ah, yes.

Hand shooting above and behind you, grabbing those scissors and-

Now that´s done it.

There´s no sound, no movement and you manage to slide backwards and off the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a thud! and making a beeline for that sweet, sweet relief thank god-!

As for Maggot Momma?

Now that she really didn´t expect.

[cieranshippy]

INSECT DISEASE RESEARCH

Within this research, I will be looking in depth, any insect that is very known from having a disease that they spread around, to not just help me with describing and creating my creature's disease and venom, to come with it to show how evil and deadly that it is. So, within each insect that I will look into I will deep dive into each one, gather the Information and understanding on what makes them deadly and what issues they cause, bit at a time and then go into complete depth on my disease / venom for my creature to help me out, to present my work.

BOT FLIES

Bot flies are flies that lay parasitic larval inside mammals, including humans. The disease is called Myiasis, or Dermatobia hominis, where a huge red mark is around the skin, untreated these maggots will leave on their own which will be a very painful experience as they have spikes, which they use to claw their way out of your skin and system.

TSETSE FLY

This fly is in the sub-Saharan -Africa, where it causes issues among mammals and farm animals, being known to ruin and stop farm mixing. The disease it carries is African trypanosomiasis, or in other words "sleeping sickness"

Effects of the diesease

Fever, severe headaches, irritability, extreme fatique, swollen lymph nodes, and ching muscles and joints.

MOSQUITOES

These flying wasp dragon fly like insects are very known for sucking your blood and giving you "it's very big bag of disease"

Such as

west nile virus: What's deadly about this virus is that you do not develop any symptoms, in some people however you get rashes, body aches, headaches, vomiting, diarrheal, joint paints.

chikungunya virus: Infected some will feel these symptoms, which begins in about 3 to 7 days after an infected mosquito bites your arm, the symptoms are similar to the West Nile virus.

dangue: Nausea, vomiting, rash, aches and pains, eye pain, muscle pain and bone pain

malaria: Apart from the others this one is the worse of them all. Flue like illness, shaking chills, headaches, muscle aches, tiredness, nausea, vomiting, diarrheal. What also can happen is anemia and jaundice, yellow colouring of the skin and eyes, because loss of red blood cells which can be deadly.

Anemia: Tiredness, lack of energy, shortness of breath, pale skin, heart palpitations.

Jaundice: fever, chills, abdominal pain, flu like symptoms, change in skin colour, dakr coloured urine and clay coloured stool.

After looking at these disease filthy creatures I began using the info that I looked into and began making my own disease / venom

DISEASE / VENOM FOR MY CREATURE

The venom researched by some scientist, has been significant in this strange world of creatures and wonders. The venom is similar to the giant "worm spiders" that inhabit the deep and harsh forests not touched by the residents of these fields of sand. The venom is simple to understand.

General structure

The venom is a dark pinkie green, with little spots of yellow and tiny grey lines, like worms, the venom has 3 significantly small extra venom sacks within the goop, these venom sacks work together to slow down and hurt the prey before death.

The first is a mixture of a similar disease back on earth "tape worm" disease, however this disease is "very" rare to happen when the venom is injected but please be lucky that you don't get as, these "tape worms" grow to about 6 metres within bodies of infected hosts, then it basically become that host, mind controlling what's left of them to find a location, so it can use the empty body suit as a strange egg, to hatch out slither away to live its life and die.

The second is a new unknown disease that forces you to sleep, as your body slowly destroys itself until the body is dead and free to be eaten by other animals which of course spreads the disease (slowly)

The third is like the flu, but the flu for the heart, as what it does is that it weakens the heart so much, that it basically becomes the heart then becomes a hive brain, which then creates littles nests of itself until you are eaten along with the disease.

My creature is a deliciouse and wonder of a snack to bite into, however there are roumours that it is being used or poorly packed to kill spacific people. "Like someone named venoquines..."

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Deja vu

summary: Can you do one where the reader is bills daughter and pennywise shows up as her and scares bill and when bill comes back home her hugs his daughter really tight

The trail of blood leads up the stairs, two doors down to the left. Bill’s enthralled with following it, feels something beside himself leading him to the end point, because logically he knows this is Neibolt. Getting separated from your friends does nothing good, is proven to be deadly in Derry, but he’s enchanted by his gut feeling inching him closer and closer to the end of the track. He can’t say he walked up here with in a clear state of mind, can’t pinpoint the exact moment he decided to do this, but he’s come so far, he might as well see it through.

Like the logical part of his brain warned him for, the outcome of heeding his gut is a macabre discovery.  

Bill catches wind of the foul smell, worse than the sandwich he once accidently left in his trailer and only got around to tossing out two weeks later, and it’s present so strongly Bill covers his nostrils with the sleeve of his button-up.

He hears shadowy screams slithering up from downstairs, Ben if he’s not mistaken, and the urge to run back to his friends becomes overwhelming, breaking the spell put upon him and a hair away from coming to their aide, but then he sees a yellow rainslicker on the floor, and a hand poking through it.

His first inkling is that Pennywise is imitating Georgie once again, a safe sure idea to agonizingly torture Bill, the guilt of not saying yes to Georgie’s request of going out with him cement blocks tied to his back and following him around, an annoying fly he can’t shake off. But as Bill steps in the room it’s not him, the feminine outlook of the corpse reveal as much. It’s not entirely clear who exactly it is at first, the body so decomposed and every open wound filled with maggots munching away at the flesh that had once been a living human being, deteriorating the body further.

‘Dad’, a gust of wind blows around, the words so nontangible but picked up by Bill none the less, and his eyes widen once he connects the dots closely examines the body. It’s his daughter. It’s Y/N, it’s his little girl.

The scream tearing up his vocal cords rattle his body, clattering to the floor in heap of panic and disbelieve next to Y/N’s corpse, his hand hovering over her cadaver without a single point of contact. ‘No’, He screeches, brushing a piece of hair out of her face, shrinking back when Y/N’s face misses parts of the tissues a face is normally made up off, her eye socket ripped away by enormous teeth sunk in by the soft muscles to tear it out. The outside world blurs to a white noise static, and Bill’s terrified and inconsolable, video feed of her playing around every day from her birth to her youth being erased by the gruesome sight in front of him. Bill will never be able to remember his daughter any other than the way she is right now. The yellow slicker might as well be used as a body bag, for Georgie and now you.

‘No, please. Take me, not her’, Bill begs, hiccuping weeps and repositioning her so she’s hidden away, her face slack in death in the crook of his neck, her open chest, missing her heart and parts of her lunges, squashed against his chest to stop the flow of blood. His longs feel stolen themselves, there’s nothing left to give.

Georgie getting murdered carved away parts of his heart he tried very heart over the years to replace, to keep giving and giving and giving to construct the ideal shape again, and it took a long time and a lot of energy to do so but with your birth, it all slotted itself in place. Bill had someone else to care and protect, but this? Your death was too much. Bill had nothing left to invest in a future.

The larva crawl from Y/N’s body to his, producing a slime that leaves sticky residue underneath Bill’s fingers, but he’s cleaving to her too tight to knock them off.

‘Ow Billy boy’, Pennywise singsongs over his shoulder, a menacing grin dialed up, it’s gloved hand curling around the young girls leg in threat.

‘S-s-stop’, Bill begs, broken down to his absolute core. He shifts to force Pennywise to let go, but the monster easily follows him, is an extra weight against Bill that he has to schlep along.  

‘Do you want to know what she tasted like? She tasted like Georgie did. Innocent and pure, oh but not anymore. She begged for you Billy, for her daddy to save her.’

Bill shake his head solemnly, protecting her body with his own. He dotes her forehead and temple with kisses, his lips loitering around to brush against her blood stricken skin. ‘I’m sorry,’ he cries. ‘I’m s-s-so sorry.’

‘You never told her the truth did you? Never told her that you let Georgie die,  and you let her die. She understood in the end. That her father was a coward.’

Pennywise tightens his grip and hauls your body over to him. Bill, who was unprepared for this, falters in his grip and allows him to do it, but scrambles after you as soon as his can no longer hold you in his arms.

‘Stop please.’

It winks, opening it’s wide array of teeth and sinks them down your legs, the protesting, piercing scream a background noise. The skin breaks effortlessly, a patch of skin Pennywise devours before the very eyes of the girls farther, massaging it’s stomach like one does after a full coursed meal.

‘Tasty’, Pennywise taunts, licking the edges of his mouth to consume the leftover bits of ichor. A battle wail erupts from Bill, fingers digging in his palm so hard incisions form, and he leaps at IT, mind fully in on the idea of strangling the brute the way he did his daughter and brother.

But, with a parting gleam, Pennywise vanishes from the scene, ducking back into it’s layer. Bill falls face first on the floor, the thunk of him hitting the floor splits open his lips, and then glances back to where your carcass posed seconds ago. It’s no longer there, and neither is the yellow slicker or the maggots that survived of your flesh.

He heaves, crying not faltering for a moment, but things in his head do begin to clear up. As far as Bill knows, Pennywise has no power or authority over any place outside of Derry, and you were not in Derry. He had talked to you the day before as you where getting ready for a sleepover, unaware of the danger you father was preparing to face. The whole thing was a trick orchestrated by Pennywise, Bill can see why, but how a thing can be so vile and evil remains shocking to him.

The doubt etched in his brain leaves him restless, are you sure she’s safe? plaguing him as he tries to stop crying on the floor. The rest of the losers find him there, frozen in place until the shake him aware and remind him of the task that needs to be completed.

-----------

Bill balls the entire way home, ignoring the stares and pointed fingers he’s the receiving end of, people recognizing him as the writer who can’t stick an ending for the life of him, because he learned from a young age that crying is crying and should be done right. His mother never bothered keeping up appearances. Not to the outside world or to the family, and Bill’s suppressed crying still made her whimper no matter how subdued Bill tried to be for her, and got him punished more then once.

At home, Audra is waiting for him, her face a variety of anger, concern, and relief that his back home in one piece. Even without the full story, Audra knew something bad was taking place. He kisses her, a quick peck to the mouth, dismissing the way her red lipstick reminds him of Pennywise eating his daughter as lunch and demands to know where Y/N is.

Audra looks taken aback as to why Bill doesn’t make any moves to talk other first, but then sees how red Bill looks, and tells him Y/N is upstairs in his study.

Bill runs up the stairs like a maniac, tripping over the top two top trudges but stabilizing himself before he stumbles, again. His office is a large, spacious room he resides in at times he’s writing, though he walks around while writing frequently too, and it’s a forbidden space for both Audra and Y/N.

That why your face falls when Bill opens the door and catches you in the act of putting back a notepad you stole from in there. You look positively stricken and spooked, scared of what your dad might say about you snuffling in his man cave when you’re not allowed in, and Bill promptly starts crying again.

You being scared of him, for any reason it might, is terrible and not something Bill ever wants to happen again.

‘Dad?’ You ask confused, standing up and walking his way. ‘Are you okay?’

He swoops in without any indication, pulling you in his arms and enclosing all around you. ‘I l-l-love you so much, you know that right?’

You nod resolutely, and Bill can’t help but think that you don’t know half of the amount he has saved for you. The longitude is impassable, the amount of weight the love carries immovable. He’s so grateful to have you in his arms, to have you be safe and secure, and with parents who love and support you. He smacks a kiss on the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo on the contrary of the stench of a rotting body and allows himself to cry and cry and cry. At some point, you join in, sad that your father is sad and mulling over what might make him feel happier.

‘You’ll tell me anything that’s b-b-bothering you right?’ He asks after five minutes of utter silence, roughing your hair out of place with a watery laugh.

‘Like what?’

‘Everything, anything. Bullies, problems at school, if I’m doing something wrong.’ Bill retreats backwards but keep you close enough that you’re still in each other’s arms. ‘You know you can t-t-tell me if it’s something I’m doing right? I don’t ever want you to think you h-h-have to hide from me.’

‘I don’t, and you’re not doing anything wrong dad. I love you.’

‘I love you too, and I’ll let nothing ever, ever hurt you.’

[thegremlinofransei]

Welcome to the Family | Ch. 2

Resident Evil 7 AU

Fandom: Split, Glass

Rating: M (strong language, violence)

Word Count: ~2.3K

Summary: It’s been three years since Kevin disappeared. However, Casey tracks him to an abandoned farmhouse in Louisiana–the site of a recorded murder–and vows to find him. Little does she anticipate the horrors that await…

—————————–

Casey slowly staggered back into a crouching position, careful not hit her head on the coffee table. Eyeing up the ominous hearth on the nearby wall, she took a deep breath and shuffled over to it. With an outstretched arm, she felt her way around the top of the fireplace until her hand ran across a chilled metal handle, and she pulled downward.

Chink-chink-chink-chink-creeeaaaak

The hidden door, which had blended in with the wainscoting around the room up until now, cracked inward slightly, revealing the way that the men in the video had taken. Casey shuffled over to it, every cell in her brain screaming that it was a bad idea, but her body had taken control now. I can’t escape anyway, she reminded herself, so the only way to go is down.

Upon entering the small room on the other side, she stood up, grateful to stretch her legs. The room was still in as bad of shape as it was in the video and, to both Casey’s excitement and dismay, the ladder still plunged into the dilapidated abyss. She crept over to it, turned herself around, and began her descent into hell, tucking her flashlight into the front of her bra strap.

About six rungs down, however, the rotten wood snapped in her right hand. She hung onto the ladder with her left hand and foot before bringing her right back to the ring below, but her weight was too much for the ring to bear. It broke apart in Casey’s hands, and she plummeted to the ground below, watching fifteen more rotted rungs fly before her eyes. With a hard landing on her back, she felt the air forcefully escape her lungs, which could only be vocalized with a small whimper.

After taking a breath, Casey grunted a small “Dammit” before gingerly rolling over and steadying herself back to her feet. She stepped over to her flashlight, which had clattered near the brick wall, and scooped it up. The room she now stood in was a dank dungeon, and she shined her light to the pipes on the other wall. At least they disposed of the bodies, she thought with a dry humor.

Just to the left of the pipes was an entryway. The same entryway that the person with the workboots had come through before the video cut out. Casey rounded the corner into a foreboding hallway lit only by a caged lightbulb that declined into a pit, washed out by the bayou. She was unnerved by the prospect of trudging through the likely diseased and leech-infested water, but she knew she was without choice. Besides, she jested to herself, it can’t be worse than having my face smashed into a pipe.

She soldiered onward and scooted herself into the neck-deep water, shivering as her body heat transferred to it. Narrow fluorescent lights rounded a corner and made a discernible path for Casey to follow. Immediately around the corner, she came to a rafter and had to crouch slightly. She shuddered as she lowered all but her face into the grimy water and quickly stood back up as soon as her head was clear.

Casey rounded another corner, and another dim hallway on dry land came into sight beyond the next rafter. She hastened her pace the best she could and resumed her stances from the prior rafter. 

As she crept through, something popped out of the water just two inches from her face, and she reeled back, now fully submerged in the water. The grime burned her eyes and throat, and after regaining her balance, she stood back up and stared at what had startled her.

Bobbing in front of her was Jai’s head, half-rotted and covered in maggots, severed brutally and still gouged through. Casey heaved at the sight, thankful to rid herself of any water she swallowed and horrified yet again by this nightmarish journey. She sloshed water around her slightly to bob the gruesome decapitation away from her, finished her amble under the rafter, and edged along the wall to avoid any more surprises.

Upon reaching dry land, Casey wrung out her hair and waved her t-shirt against her body. She dropped the turgid flashlight to the ground, praying that more of the halls would be lit up as it clattered to her side. Removing her shoes, she poured water out of them and wrung out her socks before putting them back on and continuing on to the heavy wooden door in front of her.

It was unlocked and gave way with a quick shove. On the other side was a true dungeon, grimly adorned by brick support columns and wrought-iron cages. Casey’s heart raced at record-breaking speed as she pushed forth. Every part of her shook from the combined chill that the evaporating water instilled in her and the terrifying thoughts of what could possibly be happening here.

She spun around as the door slammed shut behind her. Of course this is a fucking trap, she told herself drearily. The backpack, the windows, the tape, the ladder, the head… Her head was swarming, but she was desperate to escape, and her only hope was to venture further into the clutches of whomever was keeping her here.

An incandescent lightbulb flickered brightly from the ceiling about midway through the dungeon, casting an eerie glow onto a slab of wood covered in drawings. Casey turned back around to examine this mural, first noticing a stick figure family doodled in red. A father and mother stood together at the top of the slab, while two- no, three- smaller figures were positioned further down. A son, a daughter, and a cryptic dwarf with a darkened face.

To the right was a spiral of I’m sorry. over and over again, descending to the center until the messy script became illegible and took the vague shape of an eye, which glowered into Casey’s soul as she tried to choke back tears at the haunting message. She stepped away from the slab and rounded another corner.

Light.

A golden glow filtered through a cage at the end of this hall. Casey hurried toward it and was left incredulous by the sight on the other side. A broad, muscular form sprawled on a filthy mattress in the back corner. His head angled slightly toward the back wall, his right arm rested over his chest, which slowly rose and fell. Donned in a grungy white t-shirt and torn, loose-fitting jeans, a mop of brown hair laying unkempt over his face.

“Kevin!” Casey gasped, joy flooding through her veins for the first time in this shithole. She didn’t expect him to actually be here, and alive, after viewing the disheartening video tape. Oh my God, she thought with relief, he’s actually here. I’m trapped and there’s death everywhere, but…he’s fine. 

She didn’t even try to hold back her tears now. Letting the floodgates open, she resolved herself to get herself and her long-lost boyfriend out of that godforsaken house.

A chain was wrapped around the cage door’s handle, and Casey searched frantically for something to remove it with. To her left was the entryway to a small workshop lit by a fluorescent light tube, which she entered and did a once-over of.

The first thing she noticed was a small sheet of paper with writing laying on the workbench. Casey approached the document and read it. A list of names on the left, and the words Dead and Turned directly across from each. Three entries in particular stood out to her as she looked on in horror.

Joseph - Dead

Jai - Dead

Fletcher - L

Casey swore to herself that the minute she and Kevin left, she would find a payphone and call the cops on whatever malevolent bastard inhabited this seventh circle. Turning the paper over, she was disturbed further by the top entry, lacking a word to its right.

Kevin

Couple of fighters, aren’t we? Casey remarked mentally as she wiped the tears from her eyes. A gleam to her right ripped her attention away from the list, and she saw her ace in the hole. A brand new pair of bolt cutters. She reached for the clunky tool, nearly the length of her arm, and pulled it toward her as she pivoted back to the doorway.

Casey rushed to the cage door and forced the heavy handles open. Lining up the jaws of the cutters around the chain, she mustered her strength and heaved them shut. They firmly bit down on the thin chain, and with a few more seconds of pressure, her obstacle snapped and clattered to the stone floor. She threw open the door and practically sprinted across the cell to Kevin’s bedside.

“Kevin?” Casey squeaked out, shaking the man’s shoulder and attempting a brave face. “Oh my God…Kevin, it’s me! It’s Casey!”

“Casey,” he exhaled in a raspy voice as his eyes drifted open. Upon seeing the face for this name, his gaze widened and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Casey?” he asked his expression filled with anxiety and disbelief.

“Oh my God, babe,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re still alright.”

He swung his legs around to the edge of the bed and hastily shoved her away. Casey, alarmed by how cold his demeanor had turned in a split second, stared into his fearful ocean eyes. After a few heaving breaths, Kevin finally exclaimed, his voice pitched up by terror, “You shouldn’t be here!”

“What do you mean?” Casey asked, her eyes welling up. “You messaged me!”

“No! I wouldn’t!” Kevin bolted up from his seat, then sat back down as his voice gained a layer of delirium. “Did I?”

A lightning bolt of fear flashed across his face as he stood up. Gripping Casey’s shoulders and gazing into her eyes, he inquired hurriedly, “Did anyone see you? Did HE see you?”

“He?” she repeated back to him as he looked out of the cell. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she realized how fucked they were if Kevin, strong and intelligent Kevin, was scared witless of whomever had lured her here.

“Dad is coming.” he told her as he snatched her wrist and pulled her along. “We need to go!”

“Dad?”

Instead of an explanation, he only repeated with a slight crescendo, “We need to go NOW!”

Kevin ventured out into the workshop and ran across the room to a narrow passage with Casey in tow. Before proceeding, however, she pulled back, bringing his face to hers as she rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“What the hell is going on? Baby…you’ve been gone for three years,” she murmured.

This only distressed him more. “Has…has it really been three years?” This was punctuated by a shake of his head as he stepped away from Casey and continued on through the passage.

They journeyed onward, and they reached a doorway that was blocked by a rack of metal shelves, and Casey stopped Kevin before he attempted to squeeze through the opening between the rack and the wall.

“You need to tell me what’s going-”

“I don’t fucking know, Casey!” Kevin snapped, tears forming in his eyes. “I didn’t send you that damn message, all I know is the family brought food through here. Just…” He sighed with dejection. “Let’s go.”

Kevin’s eyes lit up as they squeezed through to the other side and a wooden door came into sight. He pushed it open, and they entered into a cellar furnished only by a metal cart and a sofa.

Kevin sprinted to the opposite wall. “What the…there was a door here. It’s gone!” His frenzied breathing calmed as he turned around and gazed to a confused Casey. “Babe,” he whispered staggering to the sofa, “we can be a family now.”

Casey was freaked out by this display, and choked out, “I’ll look through the storage closet,” gesturing to a small room off to the side.

The closet circled around a set of shelves decorated by nondescript crates and a single doll. Casey lifted the doll from its shelf and examined it. It was the size of her hand and plastic, portraying a redheaded, freckled little boy wearing a blue and yellow tracksuit.

Crash! “Let me go, you fucking bastard!”

Casey dropped the doll and ran back out to the main room. Kevin was nowhere to be seen, and a giant doorway now stood in the wall that he had so anxiously scoured earlier. She crept to the doorway and peered through, finding a concrete staircase just to her left. Starting her ascent back to what she hoped could be called the real world, she found the door at the top of the stairs cracked slightly open.

It opened into yet another long hallway, but at least this one looked like something one could find in a normal home. The windows along the opposite wall were boarded up, but Casey could hear the rumbling thunder and pouring rain on the other side. A dresser with a landline phone sat beneath the nearest window, and for a moment she was hopeful again that she could get herself and Kevin out of this prison. That was, until she picked up the handset and heard a series of damning beeps.

Casey slammed it back down and continued on. The next door she came to was a decrepit bathroom. A few palm-sized plastic bottles of antibiotic ointment sat by the sink, and she picked them up and shoved them into her belt loops, now dry enough to carry them without slipping.

Bambambambambambambam!

The knocking came from back down the hallway.

Casey hurried out of the bathroom and back down the hallway, finding the door to the stairs shut. The raucous noise ended shortly and was punctuated by the dragging of metal against concrete.

Casey lightly shoved the door open and cautiously inched down the first two steps, breathing in unison with a raspier, more primal breath from below.

———————

A/N: Yeah yeah yeah, the format is slightly different, blah blah blah. But look at that beautiful Read More cut! Only took an hour of HTML on mobile XD Also sorry for the cliffhanger If you came for the violence, I promise that starts in the next chapter, mwahaha 😈 Again, just ask if you want to be tagged!

Tag List

@lady-serenitty

@martina-leanza

[arkhamarchitecture]

we’re going to D&D hell

Alternate title: The Idiot Traveler’s Guide to the Nine Hells of Baator and the Blood War.

So we got plot dumped some info on the Nine Hells in Episode 90 and it’s possible that people didn’t catch all of it the first time through and we know there’s info Taliesin got off screen so that Matt didn’t have to info dump an entire essay straight into our brains (not that we wouldn’t have enjoyed it if he did). As somebody who has spent arguably too much time reading sourcebooks, I know quite a lot about D&D hell and I figured I’d share some knowledge with the portion of the playerbase who doesn’t play or even with the portion of the playerbase who just don’t accumulate tons upon tons of books like I do.

Before we go too far, I want to clarify where I’m getting my information. The only real information on the Nine Hells in 5e comes directly from the Dungeon Master’s Guide. However way back in 3.5e, there was an entire 200 page book about nothing but the Nine Hells called the Fiendish Codex Volume 2 (the first Volume was about Demons and the Abyss, I’ll get to that later).

All information I include here from 3.5e is subject to change and I will note it as such. I will also always use 5e information ahead of 3.5e information if I have it. For example, 5e has a different lord of the first layer, Zariel instead of Bel.

But let’s start with the basics:

So what are Devils? Devils are the ultimate Lawful Evil creatures. Supposedly (and this is 3.5e lore and extremely subject to change since Matt has his own world) they were originally Celestial creatures who were tasked with seeking out and punishing evil doers. Over time, they became corrupted and poisoned by such evil, but still saw it as their job. Asmodeus brokered a deal with the Celestial gods to have his own plane where they could punish evil doers so that they wouldn’t tarnish the Celestial realms with it. Unfortunately for the Celestials, the realm created, Baator, actually ran on those tortured souls and as such it was to the Devils benefit to have more and more, so they started deliberately corrupting mortals in order to punish them in death. The Celestials objected, but by then it was too late - the deal had been made and Asmodeus was the King of the Nine Hells.

As Matt mentioned, when someone dies who sold their soul to a Devil (and once they sell their soul, they may find their lives very short indeed) arrives in the Nine Hells as a Lemure (not a lemur, note the spelling when you Google it). A Lemure is most easily described as a Hell Maggot. They’re small, white, disgusting, and incredibly weak but they can potentially get much worse if left to their own devices.

You see, Devils have a strict hierarchy of species. Like Matt said, Lemures are at the bottom of that hierarchy, but then you have lesser Devils like Imps above them and it goes all the way up through the list to Pit Fiends. But Devils are never born as say, a Pit Fiend. You start out at the bottom and a higher ranked Devil can spend some of his own energy to promote you - literally changing your species into that of a higher ranked Devil. The Devil retains all his memories, though in changing forms, may end up changed into something smarter or dumber than before and this can be something of a clever way for a Devil to keep his subordinates in line. A Devil would find it hard to argue against being promoted, even if they were transforming from a clever and cunning Imp to a stronger but much stupider and more easily controlled Barbazu. 

Likewise, a Devil can be demoted, such as happened to our Pit Fiend friend who probably got shamed all the way back down to Lemure or Nupperibo. As a Pit Fiend, the only Devils above him that would have had the power to demote him would be the specific Archdevil he served or Asmodeus himself. So y’know, somebody important in Baator probably knows who Vox Machina is, though they may not care.

Now, Rakshasas are actually outside of the Devil hierarchy. They can be neither promoted nor demoted. Rakshasa are native to the Nine Hells and are considered Fiends but it aren’t specifically considered Devils.

Now let’s get into the real nitty gritty of Baator.

Layer One: Avernus

Avernus is the uppermost layer of the Nine Hells and is most people’s first stop on their tour. Avernus is, in 5e, ruled by Archduchess Zariel. Her advisor, Bel, is the ex-Lord she supplanted. I’m sure their working relationship is just wonderful. Avernus itself is a rocky shit hole with rivers of blood and clouds of insects. The entire layer is a battlefield for the Blood War when it pushes in close to Baator.

Tiamat also lives on Avernus and the souls of all dead evil dragons and her more humanoid worshipers go to her. That said, even if VM loitered around in Avernus for long enough, they probably wouldn’t run into their old pals, the Chroma Conclave. And even if they did, they’d just be lost souls. Dangerous I’m sure, but not in the same way they were when they were alive.

Layer Two: Dis

Hey, they really important one for our story! Dis consists almost entirely of one massive city - the Iron City - and is ruled by Dispater. Dispater is a deal maker and a tradesman, assuming you’re willing to offer up your soul for trade. He dwells in the Iron Tower in the heart of the city and VM would do well to leave him alone, assuming they get the chance. The 5e book makes no mention of the Iron Tower that Matt said he lived in, but the 3.5e book does and in that book, Dispater is described as paranoid and he keeps track of every single creature that comes and goes from his city, constantly on the look out for traitors.

Since Dis is our most likely destination, I’ll go ahead and list three neat places mentioned in the 3.5e book that Matt may or may not utilize. Oh and as a note - since the entire city is made of iron and this is hell, the majority of it is painfully hot to the touch.

The Garden of Delights - a beautiful paradise run by efreeti magic users. The entire place is a complex illusion designed to lull visitors into gradually becoming more and more corrupt. Failing that, the garden will simply kill them over time since all the food and drink are illusory

Mentiri - a prison built not to contain evil but to contain good. Mentiri has two wings. The first wing, the Bastille of Flesh, houses living creatures of good or even neutral such as paladins and mercenaries who somehow found their way into the Hells. All of these creatures are notably alive and are kept so for a reason. The prison guards set the prisoners against each other in twisted situations until they eventually become Lawful Evil themselves and in doing so, become property of Dispater if they die on his realm. Once they become evil, they are executed and Dispater collects the souls. The other wing is the Bastille of Souls, containing the souls of individuals who weren’t Lawful Evil but somehow ended up in Baator anyway. Some were stolen from the rightful heavens they belonged to but many of them are the souls of mortals killed in Baator who were trapped there. By default, dying in Baator doesn’t automatically mean your soul goes to Mentiri, but if it does somehow end up there, you can’t be raised until your soul is freed from it.

God Street - an unsubtly named region of the Iron City which contains a number of lesser Lawful Evil gods or demigods. These gods aren’t especially powerful compared to major gods but it’s the sort of place you’d find somebody like Vesh if she were Lawful Evil (I don’t know that she is).

Layer Three: Minauros

A nasty ass bog with acid rain and sinking cities. Minauros is ruled by Mammon, an extremely gross Devil who is actually so greedy that he’s one of the only Devils who will trade for things other than souls. Minauros has two major cities, one of which is actually called Minauros and is gradually sinking into the muck, constantly building on top of itself to try to stay out of the bog. 

The second city, Jangling Hiter, has a different solution - it’s also known as the City of Chains and it’s called such because the city is actually suspended on spiked chains and is hanging from the underside of Dis. This is sort of inherently illogical and is one of those things that if you think too hard about, you’ll drive yourself mad. The residents of Jangling Hiter actually are aware of how illogical it is and asking how it works is a surefire way to mark yourself as a victim. And if you’re wondering how bad being a victim in Jangling Hiter is, you should know that the 3.5e book also refers to it as Torture City.

Layer Four: Phlegethos

Phlegethos resembles the more classic Christian hell - magma and smoke and ash and a fortress of obsidian called Abryimoch. Phlegethos is ruled by a father/daughter duo named Archduke Belial and Archduchess Fierna. The pair of them get along uhhhh rather better than you’d necessarily want a father and daughter to get along, if you catch my drift and yes that’s D&D canon motherfuckers, I didn’t make that incest up. That’s... sort of the only notable thing about Phlelgethos, honestly.

Layer Five: Stygia

Stygia is a vast ocean full of icebergs and thunderstorms. One of those icebergs is more important than all of the others because it contains the actual Lord of Stygia, Levistus. Levistus is very much trapped in ice and cannot move but he telepathically rules his realm through his various servants. Levistus was locked in the iceberg by Asmodeus and Levistus is furious about it, but there’s fuckall he can do about it and Asmodeus has graciously allowed him to continue to be the Lord of Stygia so he hasn’t pushed his luck on the matter.

Layer Six: Malboge

Malbolge used to be ruled by a hag, interestingly enough. Hags aren’t devils but she was so powerful, that Asmodeus allowed her to rule the plane. He has since deposed her and replaced her with his succubus daughter, Glasya. Malbolge is a never ending slope. There is not a single point of flat ground anywhere - like one huge mountain without much in the way of ledges to rest on. Avalanches are extremely common, as might be expected, and Glasya resides in a fortress built into the side of the mountain.

In 3.5e, when the Hag Countess was deposed, Asmodeus actually turned her into the layer itself. As in, the layer was made of flesh and bone and the forests were made of hair and the tunnels under the ground were made of her bowels. It was fucking disgusting but 5e seems to have retconned this and thank god for that.

Layer Seven: Maladomini

Sort of another shitpit wasteland like Minauros, except Maladomini didn’t always look like that. The Lord of Maladomini is Archduke Baalzebul who was cursed by Asmodeus to have the lower body of a slug as punishment for attempting to usurp him. Maladomini has suffered right along with its lord and the once beautiful city he reigned over is now known as the Palace of Filth for good reason. The entire place is a trash heap of rotten flesh, literal shit, and other various forms of nasty garbage.

Layer Eight: Cania

The only place you’re gonna find in Baator that’s colder than Stygia is Cania. There’s not a drop of liquid water to be found and the cold wind cuts like knives. The Lord of Cania is Mephistopheles and despite being Asmodeus’ greatest enemy and the most likely person to overthrow him, Mephistopheles enjoys a reasonably friendly relationship with Asmodeus and in fact is a sort of bizarre godfather to Glasya. Devils are fucking weird, ya’ll.

Layer Nine: Nessus

Nessus is... pretty small, actually. It’s mostly a cracked, empty landscape filled with deep dark pits and one massive rift known as the Serpent’s Coil which, depending on which apocryphal story you subscribe to, was created when Asmodeus was hurled out of the heavens and made impact on Baator. Whether it was or wasn’t, Asmodeus makes his home in the citadel of Malsheem which juts out of said rift. Asmodeus is the ultimate Lord of the Nine Hells and every single creature in Baator is subservient to him. Anybody finding themselves in Nessus for any reason has made a very big mistake.

Right so, that’s the Nine Hells. But this post isn’t quite over! See, I mentioned something at the beginning of this post which I haven’t explained yet - the Blood War. This is the name for the ancient war between Devils and Demons.

See Demons and Devils hate each other. Like, a whole lot. Devils and Demons have been fighting the Blood War for as long as the two have existed. It’s really important to understand that Demons and Devils are not interchangeable. Avernus is a war zone because of the Blood War and every single Lord of a given layer of Hell is required to send troops to fight in the Blood War.

Demons outnumber Devils by a massive factor and the only reason the Devils haven’t been wiped out yet is because Demons are inherently disorganized and don’t subscribe much to “tactics.”

The only reason I really care to bring up Demons at all when VM is going to the Nine Hells is because of a minor pet peeve of mine:

Orthax is a demon, not a devil. He is not in the Nine Hells, he is in the Abyss.

I’m aware that Matt changes things around a lot and that what’s canon in the sourcebooks isn’t necessarily canon in Matt’s world. But Orthax has only ever been referred to as a demon and Matt did confirm this week that demons and devils are eternal enemies. We are not going to run into Orthax in Dis. Orthax is not going to team up with Hotis. Orthax would, at best (worst?), team up with Yenk, the very confused Goristro.

Aaaaand that’s been your tour of the Nine Hells of Baator, complete with pit stop at the Blood War. I of course would never, ever argue that you must be accurate to D&D canon when making art or writing fic (Changeling after all has fuckall basis in the actual Feywild). Please don’t take this as me trying to dictate what people do or don’t create in terms of fanworks. I only made this post as a guide to people might be able to expect from Vox Machina’s upcoming journey to D&D Hell.

Here’s to hoping they all come back alive.