#maggots and flies eating my flesh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s3thwrit3sstuff · 5 months ago

Note

*pulls the 45 cents I have to my name out of my pocket and drops them on your table*

I can't believe my name will be forever attached to this but one (1) Kenjaku solo session with Heianera!YN portrait, please

❝ life and death will always lead to love and regret (but you have the answers, and I have the key) ❞

warnings: creepy/stalker behaviour, Kenjaku is a 'passive'-yandere (in the sense that Sukuna would and will kill him if he tried anything), manipulative behaviour, gore (detailed), Kenjaku jerking off in front of a portrait of r!, very unrequited

authors note: don't be ashamed, Gabriel. I got way too excited writing this and I think that speaks volumes on how I need to get checked, LMAO. On another note - yes, my YN's will always have a harem of men in the JJK-verse because that's what YN (and you, my dear reader) deserve!

I wrote this partially on my phone so bear with me guys...

*song on repeat: Bernadette by IAMX & Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage. * YN is described as having long hair because of the heian beauty standard (hair colour and texture not mentioned).

People often compared the years they lived as sand. The hourglass holding it is comparable to the human body. He often thought that metaphor was weak. People — humans — were not hourglasses and their years were not sand. No, no. That’s far too neat for humans.

Humans are messy. They are loud, and chaotic, they defy nature's rules and destroy her for the sake of progress. They had no balance, their compass broke when the synapses in their brains sparked conscious thought.

In that chaos, humans made curses. Or, well, you could argue it who came first but without humans and their silly consciousness — cursed spirits wouldn’t thrive.

People are flesh left under the sun. With their blood drying out, flies and maggots eagerly feast on what they can while the meat greys and rots. That’s a much more appropriate metaphor for a human life. If anything, the hourglass comparison should be used for himself. Constantly turning it over to keep going; uncaring of what kept the sands in confinement so long as it could continue its path.

Down, almost empty, flip, repeat.

Kenjaku had perfected his cursed techniques. He had earned this, he had earned his right to let his curiosities run rampant. He had earned the right to be in the presence of Sukuna Ryomen and you.

“Yuuji, you still owe me for eating my yoghurt from the fridge. It was expensive and it took so long for me to find it!” Nobara huffed. “You might as well just buy some for yourself. I’m labelling my food now.”

Megumi glanced over his shoulder at the lack of reply from the pink-haired boy. Nobara stopping next to him with her brows furrowed, sighing as she looks around for him.

“...I was just talking to myself? Seriously?” she grumbled. Megumi adjusts his grip on the bags. The grocery trips were a good team-building exercise according to Yuuji, a way to get to know each other better. Megumi and Nobara agreed after a particularly harsh mission that aimed directly at their novice team fighting experience.

So far, the results that were yielded from it were found that Nobara had an aversion to pineapples, Megumi had expensive tastes, and Yuuji was very good at budgeting money.

“No, he was right beside you a few minutes ago,” Megumi reached for his phone. Nobara placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she continued to scan the crowd.

A gaggle of businessmen came out from the underground train station and between the crowd of slicked-back hair, desperate combovers, and sweaty bald heads, she spotted him.

Tugging on Megumi’s sleeve, she pointed to him. Yuuji was standing and staring up at some sort of vertical banner. As they both approached, they shared a glance.

“Oi, Itadori,” Nobara placed a hand on his shoulder. Smacked it really. He didn’t budge. There was a dullness to his eyes that unnerved her enough to remove her hand. Megumi tightened his grip on his phone as he called out to him again. She took a look at the banner and her brows furrowed.

It was promoting an opening of someone’s private gallery. Some rich kid’s great-great-grandfather’s collection. The painting they used was of a true beauty. A man with long hair, dressed in the finest robes with a serene barely-there smile. It looked to be more European in nature, the art reminding her of the portraits of giant frilly dresses and puffy shoulder sleeves despite the obviously Japanese clothing, accessory, and manner in which the subject was regaled in the painting.

The banner must have costed a pretty penny considering how much detail they could see. Megumi could practically feel the raised textures the artist had used to mimic the pattern of the traditional robe the man wore. The flow of his hair, the texture and pattern it had; and his lashes were surely not that long in reality.

Megumi tore his gaze to Yuuji.

It was like he was in a trance. His mouth was slightly ajar, his brows furrowed and his hands shaking as his knuckles turned white.

“Itadori?”

Yuuji had long forgotten this. This ache in his chest that he sometimes woke up with. When he reaches for the empty space next to him and finds no one. Those moments in the basement when he watches a historical movie and his chest tightens as the nobles courted one another.

“Do you know the painter or something?” Nobara asks.

No, he wants to say. Not the painter. If he knew who it was that did this portrait, he’d tear their heads off their body. But the man? He knew him.

That hellish grin, that perfect face and most importantly those nightmarish eyes.

You’ve seen dolls, right? Those porcelain ones specifically. The craftsmen who make them, the expensive ones with real human hair. To be left on shelves instead of being played with. They would draw these white dots on the eyes, varnish them even, so their eyes would reflect back. A mimicry of humans, that’s what dolls are. But even then, their eyes still twinkled. Not this man. No. It was devoid of light. Pools of (eye colour) and nothing more. These eyes would swallow up any trace of light and diminish the stars from the sky with just a glance.

Yuuji knew him. His soul knew him. His hand clutches over his heart and his friends watch this with trepidation.

It’s been 2,000 years. Sukuna was no longer human and therefore his memory was not as fickle. He still remembers those moments before dawn; the sight of your bare torso breathing softly as you rested next to him. The sun filtering through the windows and making you appear even more ethereal and deadly. How your brows would pinch seconds before you woke. Those soulless eyes that shot through his very soul.

Sukuna could recognize you even if he was blind. He’d be able to hear you just by feeling your chest rumble. If he had to eat one thing for the rest of his life, your body and flesh would sustain him.

In his Malovent Shrine, whilst he sat on his throne, he’d summon his flames in his palm. There he’d watch as your figure danced across his hand. You’d twirl between his digits, a smile across your face as he watches the imitation of you.

It used to be enough. Lately, the action brings him more contempt then fondness. The flames never quite catch your shape anymore. Constantly shifting. That coyness is gone, mini-you petulantly staying hidden behind his fingers. So he snuffs you out in his fists.

He hates you for making him miss you. A King should not be missing anyone or anything. Yet, as his vessel stands here, Sukuna teeters on the edge of breaking the Unbreakable Vow he’d made with the brat just to gaze upon you.

The painter got your resemblance and it was agony for him.

How could he continue to be without you when he’s seen you again? Days ago, he wanted to kill you for making him delirious and now he wants you back in his arms.

“Itadori.” Megumi’s tone is firmer. Nobara smacks his shoulder again and Yuuji jolts forward, nearly falling until his rigid legs quickly come back to life.

“Huh?”

“Are you alright?” Megumi asks, his thumb hovering over the DIAL button of Gojo Satoru’s number. Yuuji glances at his wrinkled shirt and releases it, confusion painted across his face at the fading pain across his chest.

“I...yeah, yeah. I'm okay. I have no idea what that was....”

Rich bodies made life significantly easier.

What was that saying humans used?

Money can’t buy happiness?

Kenjaku chuckles at the thought. Foolish and vain — typical of humans. Clinging onto whatever they can to convince their egos they’re better than most when they’ll all meet the same fate. Kenjaku forgets the exact point where he stopped seeing himself as one of them, but he’s sure anyone would if you’ve lived as long as him. Apathy. Most call it a disease of selfishness. Kenjaku simply thinks they’re lying to themselves.

“Mr Geto?” the gallery was a lucrative endeavour. A piece in his grand scheme that required little effort but great rewards. More personal gain on his end.

“Mr Hajimoto mentioned you specifically in his will. The private room is all yours. Thank you so much for your donation to this fine institution of arts.” Kenjaku offers the man a polite smile and nod. The awkward silence prompts them to open the large doors and Kenjaku is greeted by you.

(Y/N) (L/N). In all your glory. In his favourite colours and his favourite kanza. The bespoke lighting on your portrait makes his hands fall limply to his side. You were a brushstroke away from taking a breath. The colours used to recreate that undertone your skin had, the delicate curves of your lashes and the plumpness of your lip.

The two guards in the corner of the room are a nuisance. But with a simple twirl of his right hand, the Slit-Mouthed Woman makes quick work of them. This curse technique was truly convenient, the mess she made cleaned up by a different curse who laps at the blood with vigor. The noises are all muffled as he admires those vicious eyes.

Just saying your name makes warmth travel down between his legs.

“I’ve almost forgotten how you look like.”

Silence ticks by for a minute.

Then Kenjaku bursts into laughter. Clutching his stomach and covering his mouth as he does. He can still smell your blood. Even if Suguru’s body had never had the pleasure of touching you — Kenjaku remembers it.

The way it flowed out of you like silk ribbons. Warm and wet and virile.

“You are an unusual sorcerer,” those were the first words you said to him. He knows you meant that in a derisive fashion — the curl of your nose was a clear indicator. But that was the day a feverish need was planted inside of his very soul.

You. You. You.

The shape of your face.

The cadence of your voice.

The way the wind carried your scent to his nose.

The sound of your cat-like foot-steps.

The effortless way you carried yourself despite the heavy robes that a revered concubine of your rank would wear, along with the golden hair accessories that would probably break a lesser man's neck.

It didn't stop there either.

Your brain, the wickedness that ran through your very veins and that fire that burns within you. Kenjaku wanted to be inside of you in every he could fathom. To sit within that perfectly shaped skull, to thread his fingers between the locks of your hair and take a scalpel to that skin he so craves to taste. Or perhaps inside in the traditional sense, between your legs, embraced by your warm insides and your deadly arms.

Kenjaku ponders on the time he has. He decides that he should indulge in you. He undoes the robes this body wore and sighs as it reveals the torso. Bodies were all the same but he does appreciate the care Geto Suguru took into his temple — there was no need for shame when he's already desecrated this corpse so viscerally already. His hands travel down his torso and that pronounce v-line and past the patch of wiry pubic hair.

You make him feel young again. Reckless and stubborn. Your eyes watch him as he leisurely spits into his palm and strokes it over the tip.

Evil is such a lame word. So primitive in its nature, another one of human's attempts at letting go of responsibility. If something or someone were evil, they were inherently irredeemable. Humans used to call snakes evil simply for doing what a snake would do when hungry, instead of realising they shouldn't have left the door to their huts opened and their sleeping brat asleep.

Was something evil when it simply did what it was meant to do?

They were simply following natures course.

This act Kenjaku is doing now, is not perverted or evil, he is simply being. Simply living, existing, relishing.

If anything, you were the undoing. The evil. You've made, and continue to make, him lose crave and hunger. You were so cruel, so ethereal — so evil.

Kenjaku groaned your name, walking backwards and dropping onto the low seat the gallery provided. His legs spread and he hung his head down but his eyes remained affixed to your painting.

"He sounds beautiful, Mr Hajimoto," the blonde painter had told him once or twice or thrice. Young but talented, the way he used his brushes on canvas was so impressive and Kenjaku missed you so much (Y/N). He simply had to spread the wickedness of your beauty, immortalize it forever within canvases and lesser non-sorcerers minds.

"Did you know him?" his accent was clunky, the Japanese language tumbling on its delicate legs following the rhythm of the painters voice. Still, he — Mr Hajimoto, Kenjaku — gave him a gentle grin.

"Very well. He was my lover."

The small notebook the painter had written your features down in, it was displayed in this very room as well. In a glass casing, handled with gloves to ensure pesky skin oils wouldn't deteriorate his inked strokes.

Speaking of strokes, Kenjaku's was beginning to pick up it's pace. His smile now looser, like an animal that caught the scent of blood, his tongue curled over his teeth as he imagined the disgust on your face. You'd probably cover your nose with the sleeve of your robe and the thought makes his cock jump; you were wearing his favourite colours and it made him moan.

The notebook was filled with sketches of you. Kenjaku recalls correcting the human, correcting him when he disrupted the harmony of your anatomy. You were the humans muse for years, (Y/N). Even as he neared his death bed, the blonde artist kept drawing you. Sketches lose, your shape less tangible, but hauntingly beautiful. Like your dark flames flowing in the wind. Even as his memories of his life escapes him, the artist remembered you. What a blessing. Kenjaku had visited him before he died and whispered your name into the old man's ear.

Sorcerer Society keeps your name hidden. It's their way of control. Making Sukuna Ryomen more monstrous by telling others he ruled coldly and cruelly alone; death was not as harsh as being erased. They say Sukuna needed 20 of his fingers and his mummified heart to be revived. That's what those poems talked about after all.

A misunderstanding.

The heart was Sukuna's, yes.

But it wouldn't revive him.

"You were so angry," he chuckled out, "so defiant even when I was inside of you."

The sky was blood red, the black smoke making the colour more saturated as it seemed intent on blotting out the sun. Uraume had felt a sudden chill, you did too, and they swiftly rose as the scent of deceit was so thick in the air.

“Uraume,” your voice remained nonchalant. But there was a tenseness in your throat that even they could decipher through the layers of regality. They turned, mouth pressed into a thin line as they went on their knees.

You continued to stare, impassively looking down at the patterned swirl of their snow-white hair. The red and black sky turning the colour of your eyes a pleasantly mournful shade; the golden kanza in your hair that your Lord Sukuna himself had commissioned for you glimmered righteously. The teeth of a beast, the curling of centipede legs, and the melded wings of a raven. It was beautiful just as much as it was unusual.

“You leave your Lord’s prized possession to fend for himself?”

Uraume lips reveal a modest amount of teeth. Their face like a porcelain doll as they raise their head. It makes your heart flutter and squeeze.

“You are stronger than these worms, they wouldn’t dare attack you.”

This is true. A fact. You were strong. 100 sorcerers or 1, 000 sorcerers — it made no difference to you. They’d turn into dust and wither right before you. But it shocks Uraume when you place your palm against their jaw, thumb stroking over their cheekbone as you gaze down at them.

“How horrid it is, making me defend myself.”

They see your eyes soften. It was no wonder you were Lord Sukuna’s concubine. Just being touched by you, looked down upon by you; it makes their spine melt.

“I should have your head for your insolence.”

Uraume apologizes, lips stilling when your thumb presses down on them.

“Return to me. Whole. My Lord Husband and I will not be pleased if you do not. We don’t want weaklings to stand behind us.”

Uraume bows, their lips kissing your knuckles as they do before they raise and disappear from your sight. The screams of terror that are heard outside at the sight of them make you slip your eyes close.

Kenjaku appeared before you what felt like hours later. He looks at the scene with a raise of his brow. Your feet were soaked in blood as bodies were strewn across the wide room. The floor was shimmering, looking as though it was breathing as it creaked from his weight. The clothes the bodies wore painted a clear enough picture — they were your servants. Loyalties were swayed as the fight prolonged. These little ants thought they could save themselves from punishment if they showed these righteous sorcerers your head.

He couldn’t smell smoke and there were no signs of charring. The bodies were mangled beyond belief, guts spilling out, eyes gouged, arms bent unnaturally.

Yet, in the gore and horror, you stood across from him with only your feet stained by traitorous blood.

You were a vision. Delicately wiping away blood from the tiger claw kanza with the sleeve of a dead servant. Then, he watches as you carefully put it back in place atop your hair.

“Kenjaku.”

He bows his head, bending at his waist, then lifts himself up again.

“The Kamo clan, your clan, joined this rebellion. I feel that should be a good enough reason to kill you.” The fire in your eyes makes his heart race. He moves forward, casually stepping over a torn torso.

“That would be unwise,” he gives you a grin. This body of his is new. The stitches are still fresh and red. Most likely a desperate attempt of his to hide away while they destroyed his old body. The corpse is younger, and more plain-looking. Despite it’s Curse Technique being a mystery, you’ll take your chances at strangling him.

“I’ve come at the behest of your Lord Husband. To ensure your longevity.”

Your brows pinch. Kenjaku delights at the creases it creates, tucking away this sight into his memories for lonely nights. Then, you scowl.

“You lie.”

His giddiness is palpable. The wide grin on the corpse’s face is clearly not his own; cheeks lifted too high and smile too large and unnatural. Kenjaku must’ve been a truly ugly man with a truly ugly grin. The body struggles to adjust to this display of amusement.

“I’m not.”

He takes a step forward and you lift your hand. The standstill would’ve lasted longer if it weren’t for the yells and thunderous footsteps clambering up to your room.

“You lie!”

Dark flames roared out from the windows. The heat so smoldering it causes a burst of hot air to knock back the men on the stairs, burning their skin and face. The blood on the floor boils, the iron scent now more acidic as the once fleshy bodies now crumble into dust.

You feel his breathe against the nape of your neck. As you turn, he wrings his arms around you like a snake. One across your stomach, the other around your shoulder. That horrible smile is pressed against your skin.

“Kenjaku,” you growl through gritted teeth.

“That’s right. Say my name.”

Fighting feels a lot like sex.

Kenjaku can feel your passion behind every strike, the bruises you leave behind on his skin are akin to hickeys. When you yell out and scream, cheeks so hot he can feel the rush of blood to your face just from looking — the rapid pulse you have and the way your face is contorted.

Kenjaku pins you down. Your legs are thrown over his own while you gnash your teeth at him and spit insults his way. Your hair was so beautiful, thrown back around your head like a lion’s mane. He slides your wrists above your head and holds them with one hand while the other undoes the meticulous array of folds your kimono had.

Sweat drips down his nose. It’s all your fault. Using your Curse Technique in this room, charring the wood and setting it all aflame. Still, he could work in this conditions.

“Ah,” he moans at the sight of your bare skin. Watching the rise and fall of your chest, licking his lips as he places a hand over your heart.

When you kick at his stomach, he acts like he cannot feel it. When you kick again, this time hard enough for a loud crack to be heard, he looks at you.

“If you kill me, you will break the Binding Vow you and Ryomen had made with me.”

He feels your feet dig into his rib, the spiderwebs of cracks spreading further. He allows this with a pleased hum. Your ragged breathing all at once calms and with a blink, your eyes lose that unbridled fury.

“You dare say my Lord’s name so casually?”

Kenjaku laughs. As he leans down, he presses his forehead to yours. Your nose curls in disgust but you keep your lips pursed. The feeling of his sweat sliding down the sides of your forehead and dipping to travel the side of your nose; threatening to get into your eyes as it slips just beneath it.

“Forgive me, venerable concubine.” Kenjaku does not mean this. When he presses his fingers together and imbues his hand with Curse Energy. He enjoys it.

Slicing through your skin at a pace that made the cut more ghastly then it would be if it was done quickly. You remained stone-faced while Kenjaku chewed on his lower lip, every twitch or squint just fueling his hunger.

He is past your skin and now he sees the yellow, when he twists his wrist you grunt as he slices through the threads of muscles. He spreads his fingers and your teeth part as you let out a strained yell.

"You can be louder if you want," his lips brush against your cheek every time he speaks.

"When I return, I'll take pleasure in ripping your head off your body."

"Threatening me?"

He reaches bone. His finger scratching against it before he peels away and settles between your legs. Your hands aren't pinned but you do nothing but curl your fingers into fists as he shoves another hand into your chest. The squelching and pulsing of your flesh, the bursts of blood from your throbbing veins and pumping heart. The wetness and warmth of your insides. He can feel your body clenching around him, and he convinces himself its because you truly enjoy this depravity just as he does.

The size of his hands in your chest is unbearably uncomfortable. Invading you, filling you when you want nothing more than to burn him, as he moves his digits and wrists within you.

He grasps onto your bones and breaks it under the pressure of his wrist. Your blood is spraying him, staining his clothes.

"Your blood looks like ribbons," he whispers to you, "even your insides are like works of art."

You want this to be over with already.

Your arms move down, eyes still set in a glare. You slip your fingers under the soaked clothing and spread it apart further to reveal more of your skin. Shimmying your shoulders so your torso is now bare of any clothing.

The tent between his legs pressed into your crotch. It's hard to ignore, but you push through and grasp onto his elbow and force him to go in deeper.

"Promising you."

Kenjaku's elbow straightens sharply and he moans as he feels your heart beating in his palm. He pulls it out of your body, panting as your eyes slip close and your heart slows. Beating slowly...slowly...slowly...

Kenjaku moans at the memory of your heart in his hands. Your warm blood coating his skin, drying under his nails and crackling in the creases of his joints.

"I wanted to keep you on me forever," he grunts out as his pace gets faster. "The smell of you, of your flesh."

"I didn't need your body, but it was too beautiful not to be admired."

Kenjaku throws his head back, placing his palm across his nose and lips as he sifts through his memories so he can conjure it all over again.

The painting watches on impassively. The croons and purrs of Geto Suguru's cursed spirits echo faintly in Kenjaku's ears while his hips thrusts into his own fist. It's desperate. He usually isn't like this. Even when he was creating the Death Womb Paintings — even when his plans are so close to coming into fruition.

You make him like this. Make him lose control, every thought poisoned with you even when you're nothing more than a mummified heart hidden so desperately away by Sorcerer Society.

"I've gotten a lead," Uraume had informed him just a few days ago. "They've hidden him in the ocean in an underwater research facility."

"Underwater, hah, they think it'll keep your flames contained. Keep your loyal servant away as if the depths of the ocean is enough to scare them, us — Oh, (Y/N)."

His fist stops and Kenjaku stands, removing his clothing fully as he places a hand against the wall of the gallery. The textured wall, the grooves, give way to his nails as he digs them in. He stares into your eyes, imagining the crease of your furrowed brow and Kenjaku groans out your name as he cums all over the wall.

"...Oh, I can't wait to see you again, venerable concubine."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader #sukuna ryomen x male reader #kenjaku x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader

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hiskillingjar · 4 months ago

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tbh I need more fanfics of laws necrophilia... there's too few.

your wish is my command you fucking sicko

1500+ words, first person, law's pov. cw for necrophilia (duh), mentions of rape and murder, and gross bodily functions

crossposted on ao3. give me attention i have huge boobs

You were dead.

It had happened recently, maybe two hours ago, three hours at most.

Your nose was broken, bones and flesh smashed like a hole, caked with near-black blood, with the same trickling (lighter, ruby red) from a hollow gash on your forehead where your skull had caved in.

You put up a fight, evident from the bruises on your bare shoulders and chest, but blunt force trauma always won out, no matter how strong the person receiving it was.

It only takes four minutes from the moment a person has died (or, was killed in your case) before their body enters the decomposition process, beginning with the "self-digestion" stage, causing what most people know as rigor mortis, as the body begins to eat itself from the inside out.

All the tiny bacteria living in our bodies digest the small intestine first, which causes the cells in the body to lose their structural integrity and start dying and collapsing. Blisters will then appear on internal organs and the skin's surface (purple and yellow, like bruises, like pus), which is also when flies and maggots will become interested and begin to eat and reproduce too, playing nature’s role in the decomposition process.

Decomposition scares most people. I know that, which is why I don’t talk about it.

The idea that the body of someone they care about can begin deteriorating in front of their eyes (within minutes, even) upsets them.

It scares them.

They don't like thinking about how weak we, as human beings, really are, and how willing our bodies are to turn on us when we no longer belong there.

It doesn't scare me, though.

Which was why I wasn't scared when I saw you.

I had been in the forest that night, checking on the mastication process of the newest project until it had gotten dark, and was heading back to my car when I found you, lit by a single moonbeam on the clearing closest to the road.

Whoever killed you hadn’t done a good job of hiding it, but I was grateful for that.

You were a willowy beauty in a skimpy, white night dress (dotted with blood and dirt and other fluids), hands taped together at the wrist, dead, empty eyes staring up at the starry night sky as the holes in your skull continued to bleed.

What a beautiful night to die.

I'd never seen a dead body in real life.

Plenty online, plenty in the fucked up videos I used to watch when I was a teenager, before I knew what death felt like, really felt like, and knew I could never see it kept to a video again, but never in the flesh.

I felt a wave of initial nausea take over me, a predisposed reaction to death that the human body must have had, because I was far from disgusted when I saw you.

I set my bag down and approached you, a hand over my mouth to stop any instinct to vomit.

I couldn’t ruin you any more than you had already been ruined.

You almost looked like a doll, lying in the grass, your skin paling and purpling as the initial stages of 'self-digestion' occurred underneath it, and a loud part of me ached to tear into you and see it happen myself.

Yes. That’s what you were.

A broken doll played with and thrown away when she was no longer fun to play with.

"How awful," I murmured to myself, stopping my idle pacing at your blackened feet and setting myself down into a comfortable squat, tilting my head to examine you more closely. "Who did this to you? A boyfriend? Husband?"

Letting my curiosity get the better of me, I reached forward and gently nudged your legs apart, not surprised when I saw purpled bruises between your legs, reaching up to your equally bruised vagina that appeared wet and slick (and not just with the piss and shit leaving your body, another part of the self-digestion process that people didn’t like).

"I'm sorry," I then said to you, because it felt like you could hear me, looking at your bloody face. "You didn't deserve that."

I settled down onto my knees, dirt and mud soaking in, and crawled a little closer to you, kneeling between your spread legs and pressing my body down against yours.

Your warmth was dying, as all warmth always did, but it was still there, barely alive, in your chest and your inner thighs.

I could feel my core begin to tighten and throb, despite the awful smell of death beneath me

I didn’t mind. I was used to the smell of rot.

"I mean, not like anyone deserves it," I whispered with an awkward chuckle, reaching up and stroking your pale cheek, smearing blood as I pushed dark hair out of your pretty face. You made a broken nose look beautiful, I thought. "Just you especially didn't deserve it. I'm sorry."

I pressed my face into your matted hair, smelling the scent of freshly washed hair and sweet blood over the smell of shit, and my core tightened even more.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I repeated, rubbing my face against your clean hair, my trembling hands going to your thighs and parting them even further. "The world is so cruel, isn't it? So cruel to people like you."

The white lace, the freshly washed hair, the cum lingering on your skin after your death, maybe this boyfriend or husband had even killed you on an anniversary or something.

The world could be cruel, but people could be so much crueller.

"I promise I won't be cruel," I whispered, slowly reaching down to the front of my sweat pants and squeezing my- "It'll be quick. I'll make it as easy as I can." I tucked them down and freed myself, lowering myself between your warm thighs, stiff with rigour mortis but open and willing for someone (someone kind and good like me) to take care of you. "I wish I could ask properly. I'm sorry I can't."

I gradually pressed inside you, the seed of your killer making the entrance easy and slick, even if self-digestion had made you tighten up, like you were trying to ward off anybody else who wanted to do this to you, even in death.

I was patient though.

I was happy to slowly work you open, slowly lower your defences and make you feel safe with me.

I had never done this before, either, although I had often fantasised about it, masturbated about it, and wrote about it in journals and concerning blog posts.

None of that compared to the real thing, naturally.

I couldn’t help a slight grimace, though, feeling the wet slide of shit against my groin and upper thighs as I pressed closer to you, seeking your tightness, but I knew that you couldn't help it.

If you could help it, this wouldn't have felt nearly as good.

"I'm sorry," I said again through grit teeth and wheezing hisses, taking each of your slim hips in my hands and starting up a series of thrusts, first shallow and then deep, as you opened up more and accepted me. "I haven't done this before. I'm probably going to be quicker than I thought...hah."

I slid deeper, forcing a gas pocket inside you to open softly, demure and quiet, like you were hiding it from me (too shy to be a human), and it sent an electric spike of arousal through my body, tingling up my spine and to the stem of my brain.

Fuck.

"Fuck," I breathed out, lowering my head down to your chest and reaching up to the strap of your night dress, pulling it aside and exposing your perfect breasts, mottled purple with bruises and decomposition, your nipples hard and oozing with fluid. "I'm sorry. Thank you. I'm sorry. Thank you."

I spilt my seed inside of you and almost instantly pulled away, embarrassed, tucking away my softening flesh and dismissing myself from your body, like this had been a particularly humiliating brothel encounter.

I probably hadn’t been your worst encounter that night, but still.

I let out a long sigh, pushing a hand into my hair as I wet my lips nervously, and picked up my bag, starting the walk back to my car.

I felt bad that I couldn't give you a burial, some dignity in death after what your killer (after what I) had done to you.

I felt worse leaving you there to degrade, and not bundling you up in my trunk and taking you home with me, to take care of and love through each lovely stage of decomposition, but...no, leaving you out in the open would be better.

That way, the police would find you in the morning, identify you from dental records or a fingerprint (or something), and you might get something close to justice.

I just hoped any tests they did wouldn't spot two different sources of semen inside of you.

#lawrence oleander #lawrence btd #lawrence x mc #lawrence x reader #drabbles #qs #this is gross but also it felt good to write #sometimes sexuality is gross

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www-proxxicles-com · 5 months ago

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BUGS BUGS BUGS! But the good kind.

Alrighty, let’s go through all the mobs and their features! Left to right, top to bottom, image one through image two. Since this’ll take FOREVER, use the read more! Look forward to a part two focusing on even more bugs!

SNAIL

Snails spawn in forests and swamps. Snails leave a harvestable trail of slime that can be affected by their food- make it bouncy (by feeding them blueberries), fast (raspberries) or honeyed (honey bottle). Snails come in various shades of browns, grays, greens and ruddy berry colors.

GIANT WATER BUG

Spawning in the beaches (any body of water, really), water bugs are defensive and will attack if you get close. When tamed by obtaining their eggs, water bugs make for good guard dogs- they can be commanded to stay, follow, wander, and by shift-clicking- set to neutral, passive or aggressive. GWBs come in shades of browns and blacks.

SLUG

Slugs spawn in jungles, and leave behind trails that can be used to make redstone components with upgraded signal strength. They come in shades influenced by real-life slugs- pictured is the rare banana slug.

MEALYBUG

Ah, mealybugs, the bane of any farmer. Spawning on crops, mealies eat and suck at crops until they’re sated. However, if you’ve befriended any ants, these bugs become a source of hearty honeydew, which when bottled makes for an incredible food source. Mealybugs only have one color- a dusty, pale white.

FLY

Flies spawn around carrion blocks, buzzing around and being general nuisances. Flies can be tamed by feeding them rotten flesh, and can swarm around attackers on command, descending down from the heavens to make enemies’ lives living hell. Keep an eye out for the rare tsetse and horse flies, larger and more dangerous breeds. Flies have two variants- brown and dark grey.

LIGHTNING BUG / FIREFLY

During the nighttime, look out for fireflies in the distance (since they only spawn during the night). Fireflies can be bottled and tamed with fruits, and can be placed down for a light show. Non-entity fireflies spawn around Naturality’s frog species and certain grasses, if you want the two-pixel variation. Fireflies can be dyed both as entities and as bottles, and dyeing them colors their lights. Fireflies come in a few different variants, all based on real-life species.

COCKROACH

Cockroaches spawn in Naturality’s new caves (the limestone cave and the sunken jungle) as well as in the new beach grottos. Cockroaches can be used as clean-up-crews, consuming detritus and fertilizing farms as they make their way around. Smaller cockroaches have a tendency to swarm players just like flies, and all cockroaches can be tamed. Cockroaches come in a horde of variants based on real roaches, like B. giganteus (giant cave), B. dubia, M. longipennis and B. germanica (German).

MAGGOT

Maggots are the larvae of flies, found in carcasses. They can be itemized and used to tame other creatures, if you’re a monster.

DRAGONFLY

Dragonflies spawn around bodies of water, attacking other insects to eat their fill. They can be tamed and their wings used to upgrade elytras. Dragonflies also can be used as the poor man’s elytra- allowing you to hover and slow-fall. Dragonflies come in some green and blue colors, and one iridescent one.

APHID

Another crop-destroyer, make a farm and the aphids will come. Unlike mealies, they can’t be harvested, only itemized or used in fiber and wood farms after being tamed with offerings of plants. Aphids have one variant- green.

ISOPOD

Isopods spawn in forests, and are used to culture molds and other fungi. They’re basically crustacean puppies. Also see my prior isopost for more colors. Pictured is the rubber duckie variant- the true amount of isos is a secret :)

BUTTERFLY

Butterflies spawn nearly everywhere during the day, and during the night are replaced with moths. Butterflies are basically bees, only instead of honey, they’re used to obtain nectar, which functions as natural potions that give different effects depending on what flowers they come from. Moths, on the other hand, work as glares- they dislike darkness and will point it out if given some nectar as a treat. Butterflies come in a horde of variants.

LADYBEETLE / LADYBUG

Ladybugs and other beetles of their ilk spawn in the plains, and are useful for their shells- which can be made into tough armors. Ladybugs suck at crops, and if tamed will trawl through your fields, picking only the good bits out.

GIANT ISOPOD

Giant isos spawn in the deep seas, and make a living cultivating mosses in the depths. Perhaps you could gain their trust and use them for your own good? The ways of these depth-dwellers are a mystery. They come in three variants- light, dark and pink.

Congrats! You made it down here. Have a cookie 🍪

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480pfootage · 7 months ago

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*not my screenshot

I always thought that all the marks on Kate's mask were mainly burnt plastic and soot but on closer look they kinda remind me of bugs burrowing if that makes sense? the ones on the cheek especially

With her skin burnt and rotted, it's bound to attract flies, maggots, and bugs of those particular. Mealworms eat through plastic and through skin and to imagine the mask melted onto her face because she got trapped in that forest fire.... feeling worms constantly wriggling under her new plastic shell of a skin... biting, eating at her tender burnt flesh....

poor kate....

#of course it could just be burnt plastic #because it also looks like that #and burnt skin typically don't tend to rot i'm just exaggerating #oh well just sharing my thoughts #p.screaming #creepypasta #kate the chaser #kate milens hayes #slender the arrival #kate's camera

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sarasometimes · 2 months ago

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Hey queen I have auditory processing issues can you drop the lyrics to your new song rot (if you’re cool w me using it on TikTok while wearing The Corruption themed makeup)

pls pls send me the link when you finish! i wanna see the video!

---

I lead the chorus of maggots

Wriggling in my flesh

In a symphonic explosion

Bursting out of my chest

They sing and writhe To the tempo of our rotting heart

Their gnashing teeth consume our flesh

A million little loves Tearing my corpse apart

Can you hear the flies around your head? (buzz buzz buzz)

Can you hear the singing of the dead? (lalalala lalala)

Do you know the taste of rotted meat? (buzz buzz buzz)

Or will you succumb to the creeping rot

And become what the insects eat?

Oh, our work is harsh and unforgiving

And, oh,

Such is the burden of the living

To care and tend to our meals, rotting away in the dirt

Their bones will become our hors d'oeuvre, Their festering organs our dessert.

Can you hear the flies around your head? (buzz buzz buzz)

Can you hear the singing of the dead? (lalalala lalala)

Do you know the taste of rotted meat? (buzz buzz buzz)

Or will you succumb to the creeping rot

And become what we insects eat?

A thousand maggots singing

To the harmony of the hive

Drunk on rusting blood and viscera

Oh, what a time to be unalive!

We bite and eat and devour

All the parts you’ve left behind

The sweetness of flesh sours

But we will always survive.

Can you hear the flies around your head? (buzz buzz buzz)

Can you hear the singing of the dead? (lalalala lalala)

Do you know the taste of rotted meat? (buzz buzz buzz)

Or will you succumb to the creeping rot

And become what we insects eat?

Oh, our work is harsh and unforgiving

And, oh,

Such is the burden of the living

To care and tend to our meals, rotting away in the dirt

Their bones will become our hors d'oeuvre, Their festering organs our dessert.

A thousand maggots singing

To the harmony of the hive

Drunk on rusting blood and viscera

Oh, what a time to be unalive!

We bite and eat and devour

All the parts you’ve left behind

The sweetness of flesh sours

But we will always survive.

Can you hear the flies around your head? (buzz buzz buzz)

Can you hear the singing of the dead? (lalalala lalala)

Do you know the taste of rotted meat? (buzz buzz buzz)

Or will you succumb to the creeping rot

And become what we insects eat?

#// liar liar #sara sometimes #the rot #my music should also be on tiktok btw!

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leahnardo-da-veggie · 1 month ago

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A Tale of Love, Death and Maggots, part 21-G

Parts 1-15, 16-G, 17-G, 18-G, 19-G, 20-G

As I grew close, I saw what plagued her so. Beneath her skin, under the thick cloud of flies, lumps shifted and gnawed. Myiasis sprung to my mind instantly, a remnant of the semester I spent as a volunteer medic in some poverty stricken, war torn land. The laying of eggs beneath flesh.

Not-Athena, The Lurker, that beast, intended to eat my love from the inside out. “Run,” Mrin mouthed at me, before more flies flew down her throat. I wanted to hurl, the sour bile coming up my throat, but I forced it back down. This wasn't the time to be weak. This wasn't the time to run. Not anymore.

I grabbed her fallen sword and hefted it. Rising to my feet, I turned to face Not-Athena. “You,” I snarled. “You don't get to hurt my love. You don't get to hurt my love, or my kids, or me. You let go of her this instant, you hear me? You're not gonna eat my girlfriend alive, you fucking bitch. I won't let you.”

I ran at her. Goodness knows my form was awful, and my arms were hardly more than noodles, but I don't think that mattered there and then. What was more important was that I made good on my promise, and didn't hesitate. As soon as I finished my words, I was slicing through her.

Slime, insect blood, and goodness knows what else splattered me. I felt things squirm across my flesh, seeking open wounds to bury themselves into. They made me itch all over, a nearly unbearable feeling in and of itself. But Mrin had endured this for me. Mrin had suffered, was suffering, for me. I couldn't just abandon her like that.

“Fine! Take the warrior-girl. I will leave,” Not-Athena snarled as I buried myself in the mass of her body. Somehow, they died by the swarm, everything Mrin's sabre touched dying like… well, flies. Which they were.

“No,” I yelled back, spitting out the worms that fell into my mouth. “Give me back both of them. I'm not abandoning anyone, you hear me? I'm done! You pushed me and pushed me, and this time I'm not backing down! Prepare to die.” I cleaved one more time, and a face appeared from underneath the writhing maggots.

“Athena!” Her eyes were closed, a shallow slice over her throat. It would not kill her, I realised, though she would carry the scar for the rest of her life. I lowered my blade immediately to haul her free.

“If you do that, I will kill the witch,” Not-Athena buzzed around me. “My children will erupt from her skin and eat her alive. Will you make that sacrifice, little coward?”

Between agonised sobs, Mrin said, “Do it, Doc. Trust me. You- You have to.”

I turned back, shaking off more maggots as I did so. “But-”

“Do it.”

Taglist: @coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @abiteofhoney

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @paeliae-occasionally, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thecomfywriter

@seastarblue, @wyked-ao3, @bookwormclover

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

#Oh you thought these guys were gonna make it out alive? Lmaooo #My writing #short story #fantasy #spilled ink #writing community #creative writing #writerscommunity #writeblr #writing #Horror

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crevicedwelling · 2 years ago

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are there any omnivore arthropods or are they exclusively carnivore or herbivore?

roaches, various beetles, and isopods are the first that come to mind, but there are many, many others!

roaches, for example, are primarily adapted for digesting plant matter with a long digestive tract (termites are just a specialized family of roaches!) but many species love meat. I’ve used my Suriname and B. dubia roaches to eat the flesh off of bones for preservation. in the wild, these roaches would take advantage of carrion and other dead insects—Suriname roaches belong to a genus often found in bat caves, and they’ll spring on any downed sickly bats or fallen pups and eat them alive.

same with isopods! they can be surprisingly predatory things, both cannibalistic and eagerly eating carrion and weakened live animals. this is why any isopod larger than 5mm is a bad choice for a cleanup crew with an arthropod pet—they will devour it as it molts. many aquatic crustaceans like crayfish and crabs also are highly generalist and will pretty much eat any old organic material they can get their claws on.

ground beetles, darkling beetles, and rove beetles span a range from generalists that eat anything to specialists on fungi, plants, or animals. caterpillars can be surprisingly cannibalistic, like corn earworms in which the largest in an ear of corn devours its smaller siblings.

there’s also a lot of bugs that are more specialist carnivores that readily eat fruit, like giant centipedes! Lucinda here loved her bananas. some spiders will eat pollen that gets blown into their webs, and there’s even a species of jumping spider that only eats little nutrient packages it steals from a tree which grew them to feed its personal ant army.

in insects that molt, there can be a switch from larva to adult! many solitary and social wasps are parasitoids or predators that as larvae feed on other insects caught for them by their mothers (solitary) or siblings (social). when they mature, they mostly drink nectar because most wasps can’t digest solid matter as adults. a similar shift is seen with many flies—mosquitoes are filter-feeding larvae that mature into nectarivorous adults in which females need to take blood to lay eggs, and houseflies or flesh flies that feed on dung or carrion as maggots primarily drink nectar as adults as well.

a fun example of a shift in diet is the click beetles I’ve tried to keep. they feed on rotten wood for the first few weeks of their lives, and after gaining some size start a predatory lifestyle hunting other wood-boring grubs with sickle-shaped mandibles. after they mature, the adult beetles feed on sweet fruits and sap.

so yes, there’s no simple carnivorous/herbivorous split between arthropods. there are many omnivorous or detritivorous arthropods that typically eat a variety of foods, but more specialized predators or herbivores will also opportunistically meet their nutritional needs. and different lifestyles for larvae and adults mean that the same insect can use very different food sources throughout its lifespan!

#bugs #biology

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chaifootsteps · 1 year ago

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Isn't it funny how Vivzie's interpretation of gluttony, described in Christianity as literally overeating to the point that the lower class starves (basically just generic corporate cat #47), is another one of her hourglass figure women, but the sin of greed is fat...? I feel like gluttony would have done better as that, 'fatphobia' aside, since Vivzie seems fine using Heaven and Hell which is often associated with Christianity.

I do have my own interpretation of the Gluttony ring which is still a WIP, but I took the eating and 'lord of the flies' aspect (as well as ULTRAKILL's Gluttony) to the max.

I think the first layers of Gluttony would be maybe bright and colourful similar to the show, since I would also like to include overindulgence in drugs and the like-these often bring feelings of ecstacy and joy at first.

As you go deeper, however, things begin to smell worse. The walls start to resemble rotting food and flesh, the whole place is full of flies and their respective larval forms.

As well as that, almost all of the hellborns are riddled with weird, pulsating tumours, and also look much more like flies as well as maggots. Sinners usually look more like trypophobia-inducing masses of skin, fat, and a face with a miserable expression that barely move except to eat, hardly recognizable as demons or even living at all.

There are hardly any children here, and when you see any they are often large maggots, feasting endlessly on the rotting walls.

Deeper and deeper, sinners are less so lower class addicts and overeaters, and more of them are corporate monsters, even larger than previous ones, with even more tumours and hundreds of layers of rotting, yellow fat with just as many maggots as the walls at this point. They hardly even resemble sinners anymore, but rather masses of fat that exist only to consume.

Although that might convince you that they simply ate too much in their lives on Earth, the truth is many of the corporate sinners indulged in more than just food, and stopped at nothing to consume money, treasures, anything they could. This does include overeating, but there are much darker sides to what they did.

At the center is Beelzebub. I imagine, instead of Vivzie's version (sparkledog? seriously?) this one is similar to the previous sinners, but resembles a mix of a termite queen and a fly. Although she has no set gender, I refer to her with feminine pronouns for convenience.

Her abdomen is constantly pulsating and forming offspring. She is endlessly laying eggs, which are tended to her by worker flies (i know flies don't form colonies like termites but who cares). These hatch into the same maggots as above, and then become the worker flies that tend to the eggs and Beelzebub.

Back at the top of the ring, where things are bright and bubbly, hellhounds are most prevalent and other hellborns resemble candies. They do also have bug aspects, which mostly sticks to an exoskeleton-esque outer layer, wings, and 6 legs. These hellborns also influence demons from other rings to indulge more and more, eating and drinking and everything possible, which causes them to begin to become those tumour-infested zombies from the lower layers. Demons of the Gluttony ring have more resistance to this but they are not safe either.

Some of this was made on the spot so I'm sorry for any mistakes but I've also planned this out (mostly the fleshy parts) across the span of a couple days. As well as that, I'm not an expert in demonology but I have done some amounts of reading.

I also definitely was inspired by Heaven Pierce Her's 'Guts', which also plays during the first level of Gluttony in ULTRAKILL and can be found here: https://youtu.be/0oKVuDnNX-4?si=gNVrzLxLhEcUQrGp

Oh, that's creepy as fuck and I like it a lot!

#Anonymous #helluva boss mention #cw insects #actual blog post #body horror

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eyeballsoup7310 · 1 year ago

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In my mind Rachel was kind of like Jane prentiss. She could always feel the buzzing, the itching, the crawling in the shadows. When she would walk home she fought off the urge to stray from the path, to dive into the bayou, to let the trees swallow her. The spider web in the corner of her room grew steadily larger as she stared blearily at it at night. Both her nightmares and her dreams were filled with softly spoken webs, with loneliness despite the millions that surrounded her. She could see cities fall under the feet of restless children on the playground and not-quite-literally felt their pain as her friends dragged her away. She saw the ants get crushed under dominoes during family game night. Her brother and his friends found a dead animal in the woods behind the house once, they brought her with them to check it out. It was covered in maggots, in rot and decay and countless flies. She wanted to stay by them and watch those others eat, but her mom waved her home so she left them alone to feast on the rotted flesh.

She did so good, she thought, of staying away from the bayou. Of avoiding the call of the corrupted. But one day she was left alone — an accident, her parents would later tell the police — and there was no one to drag her away. The call lead her outside, out to the bayou. Where no one would see her, and certainly no one would search for her, and the insects could perch on her waterlogged corpse easily. Rachel Rand never left the bayou once she stepped in. After all, nobody was there to pull her out.

#me when I. uhh. me when I write about a character with very little canon information #this is basically a ‘creative writing’ ish version of an animatic I have in the back of my mind so #just talking #eyeball rants #jrwi bitb spoilers #jrwi bitb #bitb #Rachel Rand #Jane prentiss #bug warning #death warning

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theravequeen · 8 months ago

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Hey gang

I made a horrifying symbiote AU where my shapeshifter OC, Raven, gets caught mid shift by Widow, a symbiote, and I'm the process they both absorbed Peter and made a terrifying amalgamation :)!! And then Harley has to find them like this and he and Stephen have to figure out a way to fix it :))

Anyways enjoy the read and the experimental art I'm stupidly proud of!

TW FOR: BODY HORROR, EYE CONTACT, GORE

Harley couldn't believe he was doing this.

The old Hydra base was completely run down, crumbling beneath itself. Hazard signs and sharp fences were put all around it, like some sort of nuclear fallout plot.

Something was in here that Hydra didn't want them to see.

But this is where his siblings disappeared to. Everyone told him Hydra killed them. That they were killed in the midst of Armageddon by Schneider and his horrid organization of criminals. Of sick and twisted beings.

Nat had said they dissapeared one day, never coming back home. It was Hydra, Harley had found out.

Now here he stands, face to face with the building that apparently was his siblings' tomb.

Wish a deep, shaky breath in, he began to walk into the crumbled building, flashlight gripped tightly in his hand.

Traveling through the beginning of the Hydra base, he didn't find much else other than the broken down walls and shattered glass of the facility. Occasionally he'd find traces of an odd substance, purple, and almost gel-like, though he dare not touch it himself.

Soon, he reached a large, open room, with machinery and equipment everywhere. Some broken off from the ceiling, leaving dead wires dangling down. Others, large computers and control panels, smashed to pieces and torn apart.

The floor was covered with a smelly, black sludge, the same purple gel, and lots and lots of dried blood.

Harley's stomach churned. The only beast large enough to do this that he could think of Hydra getting their hands on was Raven, if she was made very, ::very:: angry.

Something deep down inside of him was trying to tell him that she was already gone. That all of this is just a lost cause. But he pushed past it, because he had to. Because he still felt like they were still out there...

The farther he traveled, the more the building became destroyed, to the point where he was having to climb over rubble, ducking and squeezing through tight cracks just to continue.

His mind was ***screaming*** for him to turn back, but he couldn't stop now.

He made his way through a thick wall of rubble, only to be met with the very distinct smell of rotten flesh that almost made him throw up there on the spot.

He gagged, pulling the mask he had brought with him up over his face, before continuing. What in the *world* could be the source of that smell??

As he looked around, shining his flashlight over the floor, he got his answer, jumping back at the sight of it.

What had to be at least ten Hydra guards lay on the floor in front of him, flies and maggots crawling all over their bodies, now rotting away after being left for too long, hollowed out sockets and rotten eyes staring back at him.

Harley turned, most definitely going to be sick. He had to turn around--- *he had too*. This was too much. Too dangerous.

Taking one last glance, he noticed a number of the bodies had massive chunks taken out of them, wounds only teeth from a massive monster could cause. Something had been *eating them.*

His previous hypothesis as to who that "beast" could have been flashes in his mind, and he fights down more bile, quickly turning away and beginning to try to escape.

But that's when he heard the breathing.

A deep, shuddering sound. Rattling around in massive, laboured lungs.

Harley froze, before swallowing and turning around, despite what his muscles were *screaming* for him to do. He's seen enough horror movies-- this is the part where you *run.*

But God, he was so curious-- ***what if it was her?***

He shone his flashlight around, until suddenly his light landed on something that looked like eyes. He jumped, almost dropping the flashlight.

He began to back up, eyes never leaving the hollow, *human* eye looking back at him, towering above him in an impossible hight.

Surrounding the eye was the same purple substance, forming a body around it. As his shaking light went over the thing's body, he noticed at least one arm sticking out of the thing, which was mostly a pile of sludge.

The thing's mouth hung open, gaping jaws filled with sharp, canid teeth, as well as human teeth stretched into the skin around, in unnatural and uncomfortable looking positions.

Then, it *moved.*

It pulled itself towards him, the breathing echoing in his ears. As it moved, a sickening, squelching sound reverberated around the room, as it's body morphed and changed to grow more limbs.

He had to get out of there.

He quickly turned and began running, hearing the thing screech in protest as he did. Heart thundering in his chest, he scrambled for the wall of rubble, squeezing back through it as fast as he could.

Just before he got out, his jacket got stuck, trapping him in the rubble. He could hear the squelching of the thing getting closer, as tears began to form he pulled at the jacket, frankly not caring if it tore.

And then, a weak, haunting voice echoed throughout the room, one that froze Harley's blood solid.

"H...ar...l.e...y?"

It knew his name.

***How did it know his name???***

He pulled free finally, and began backing away, gasping for air as he did. He looked around, as the sound processed more in his brain.

Why did that seem so familiar. Why was the voice so familiar????

Eyes widening in horror, he quickly began to realize what was happening.

That mutant abomination---that. Amalgamation of parts and pieces, an alien of mutation---

***That thing was his siblings.***

#tw body horror #tw gore #tw creepy #mcu #marvel #symbiote #symbiote au #ravens furryvengers #raven r barnes #peter parker #harley keener #im so nevrous to be posting this here #please be nice to me i might cry

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strangerthingsstuff4 · 1 year ago

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A Story of Another Us- Chapter Four

Alicent had asked if Dahlia could help with dagging some of the sheep while Aegon was out at the wholesalers, she had excitedly accepted and they were both trudged their way down the length of the gardens towards the small opening in the hedges that led to the country road between fields. They had passed Aemond in the training ring of the stables, he was joined by a small auburn palfrey who seemed to be quite difficult.

Vhagar had rounded the ewes up into the small metal pen, Alicent pulled two sheep out before closing the gate. She passed Dahlia a set of razor clippers and they began shearing the mucky behinds of the sheep.

‘Have you ever done this before?’ Alicent asked, watching the young girl position the Berrichon sheep between her knees.

‘A few times, I used to shadow some visits with the clinic I worked at in university, I always got given the dirtier jobs that he didn’t want to do’ Dahlia chuckled.

She lifted the limp sheep’s tail and clicked the clippers on, gently and carefully work her way over the faeces and mud that had accumulated. The dirty wool fell away and drifted to the floor, she held the tail in the palm of her hand and removed the dirt that sat on top and underneath it.

‘Do you know why we do it?’ Alicent questioned, concentrating on her own work.

‘To prevent flystrike, if the flies lay eggs on the soiled wool or an open wound the maggots will eat the live flesh and it can be fatal if not treated in time’ Dahlia recited from memory.

‘Well I’m impressed, you seem to really know your stuff’ Alicent chuckled.

‘Well I only have half a year left before I can technically graduate and I’ve loved every minute of the courses content’ Dahlia smiled releasing the cleaner sheep from her legs and moving to retrieve another, with Vhagar’s help of keeping the other sheep contained.

‘So Haelena tells me you’re from up north?’ Alicent enquired

‘Yeah, just on the outskirts of Last Hearth’

‘Oh so North North!... how did you manage to end up studying all the way down in the capital? I hear Winterfell Uni has a pretty good agricultural course’ Alicent smiled, seemingly interested in getting to know more about her daughter’s best friend.

‘Yeah I was offered a scholarship there after college but erm… I don’t have the best relationship with my mum so putting a few thousand miles between us seemed like the best thing, plus Kings Landing University is the most prestigious school in Westeros so to be offered a full scholarship was like a dream’ Dahlia began, avoiding the sympathetic look she knew Alicent was giving her.

‘Oh it is, the boys were offered places, Aemond is studying a short history course as kind of a hobby I think, not sure he wants to do anything with the degree it’s just something he enjoys… and it was hard enough to get Aegon out of bed to work never mind go to school as well’ Alicent laughed lightening the mood.

‘Really? Hel never mentioned that they were all offered places that’s really impressive’.

‘Not that impressive their father was a very well-known man here in the south and it doesn’t hurt that my father sits on the board of directors for the school institution in Old Town’ Alicent rolled her eyes slightly, clearly a bit embarrassed at how entitled her children sounded.

They both continued cleaning up the sheep and making conversation with each other. Dahlia told her about her mother’s sickness and how she was having to return home to care for her, she told her how she was going to attempt to get a job on Winterfell Ranch or if nothing else at least a place at the local vet. Alicent listened and let the young girl sound off to her, she never offered unrealistic solutions or told her what she needed to do with her life like everyone else she had spoken to about her career. Dahlia felt like she could really bond with her best friend’s mother and envied Haelena massively for getting to have someone like her in her life. She only wanted the best things for her silver haired sister and she would never wish her life upon her but sometimes Dahlia hated how unfair it was that Haelena not only got parents who loved her, cared her and wanted what was best for her but how she also got to own a farm and live what was Dahlia dream life. She knew it was not of Haelena’s doing but sometimes she looked at her and she wanted to cry and scream about everything!

‘So when Viserys passed away I was left with the Ranch and Rhaenyra took her inheritance and decided to open a sister farm on drift mark’ Alicent informed her as Dahlia drifted back into the conversation.

‘Drift mark is where Rhaena and Baela are from right?’

‘Yeah, their grandparents were close friends of Viserys’ s they helped her set everything up over there’

‘Do you mind me asking why she didn’t stay here? Hel’s told me she’s never been that close to her sister but if she was raised here then you’d figure she would want to stay’ Dahlia asked nervously, not sure if she was overstepping.

‘Things between me and Rhaenyra have been strained for a long time, obviously there being an age gap between me and her father she was never really too happy with our relationship after her own mother passed, when I was written into his will and left the land he had purchased she was less than happy so she took the opportunity to take the children and move’ Alicent ranted to her.

Dahlia didn’t say anything just let her vent, she clearly hadn’t spoken about the issue in a long time and was letting off steam. She nodded along as Alicent told her about her fight to try and keep her stepdaughter and grandchildren close, to try and rekindle the friendship they once shared but to no avail. She told her how she had hoped that their children could become close and be raised together but one they had been ripped away from each other they had grown distant from one another.

‘I used to love watching Aegon and Jace running around after the ducks when they were younger, now I have to grovel just to get to see the two boys, it took me almost two months to persuade her to send the boys here while she travels to different shows, even then she refused to send the younger ones, deciding to take them with her. Ever since Aemond’s accident she’s been doing anything and everything in her power to separate our families’.

Dahlias ears perked up and she looked up at the woman, it was visible that Aemond had lost sight in one of his eyes he usually hid it under a patch but there were a few times that he had been walking round without it, allowing everyone to see that pale blue iris that that had slightly clouded over. Haelena was always very cagey when it came to her stepsister and that side of her family history, never really delving into too much detail.

‘What happened? With Aemond?’ Dahlia asked curiously.

However before she could receive an answer a ringing tone erupted from Alicents pocket and she fished it out. She smiled apologetically to her and answered the call, leaving Dahlila to finish up dagging the last few sheep and wondering what could have caused such a wound to Aemond’s face. She never got to finish that conversation with Alicent, having finished up with the flock and returning back to the house to spend some time with her friend and help cooking lunch.

The next few days were pretty much the same as usual, five am wake up, get dressed and go for her jog, return and shower then help out with anything she could whether that was feeding animals or bedding out the barns or even harvesting from the small crop beds that sat in the gardens. The only difference to Dahlia’s Day was when she woke up and wandered down into the kitchen, there was a cup set up with coffee and a sugar sat next to a full kettle that just needed boiling. The first morning she saw it sat there she was a bit bewildered trying to figure out if she had done it herself in her sleepy state the night before but when she racked her memory, she had no recollection. When the penny drop her heart fluttered a little and a smile stretched at her mouth, the only other person up at that time was Aemond, he must have left it there ready for her. Every morning she continued to see it there the bigger her smile got, no matter how cold he liked to act he was making it obvious that he cared enough to make sure she got a hot drink in the morning.

On the cold Sunday morning Haelena had set all of their visitors the task of helping harvest their first summer crops. Jace, Luke and Baela were set to picking the fruits while Haelena, Dahlia and Rhaena worked their way through the tomatoes and peppers. Even making a game out of it to see who could collect more in a short amount of time. As the plant beds were sat next to the training ring they all had a front row seat of Aemond trying to train a young palfrey, watching as he was getting frustrated.

‘For fucksake listen to me this time you little prick’ Aemond grumbled at the horse, tightening his grip on the reigns as he stood in front of it.

‘Ugg why is your brother such a dick’ Rhaena grimaced at him, watching him verbally abuse her grandmother’s horse.

Rhaenys and Corlys had asked if Aemond would do them the favour of training their new show horse as they didn’t have facilities quite as good as Dragon Stone. Evidently Aemond was not enjoying himself and didn’t appreciate being given the extra work.

‘He’s not a dick he just has trouble socialising… he doesn’t get out very often’ Haelena tried to defend her brother, wincing at the sound of her feeble attempt.

‘Doesn’t get around much you mean’ Jace smirked.

Dahlia chuckled quietly before going back to concentrating on her work. She took care as she plucked the dwarf tomatoes from their vines and placed them into the basket she had been given. The group chattered amongst themselves as they continued on harvesting, Jace and Luke making jokes to hear their girlfriends chuckle while Haelena and Dhalia shared looks over the cheesiness. A loud roar of pain erupted from the horse Aemond was training as it leapt up onto its hind legs. Everyone jumped up to see Melys kicking out in pain, Aemond was trying to dodged the powerful kicks while attempting to calm him down.

Before Dahlia knew it she was up on her feet and running around the side of the training ring, she flung the gate up and got a firm grip on the back of Aemond’s collar. It took all of her upper body strength but she managed to pull him out of there just as Melys kicked his foot through the air that Aemond’s head had just resided in. Aemond hit the floor with a thud and Dahlia slammed the gate shut, locking the panicking horse in.

‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ Aemond yelled as he scrambled off the floor back to his feet.

‘Keeping your head on it’s shoulders! You welcome!’ Dahlia shouted back at him.

‘I had it!’

‘Aem you could have been really hurt then’ Haelena tried to reason with him.

‘You’re such the animal expert you fucking deal with him then!’ he yelled once again at Dahlia before storming off back into the house.

‘Asshole’ Jace grumbled watching him go.

Once the horse had stopped kicking out and had calmed a little, Dahlia entered the training ring, she approached him slowly as not to spook him again. It wasn’t hard to see the issue, he held his front right left leg up off of the floor and there protruding out of it was a fairly big sharp rock.

‘Fuck, Hel do you have a farrier?’ she questioned her friend while putting a soothing hand on the animal next to her.

‘Yeah! Shall I call them?’

‘I would yeah’

Haelena ran to the house while Baela and Rhaena joined Dahlia next to their grandparents’ horse, giving it their best attempt to sooth him. It was only a few minutes before Haelena was jogging back down from the house, phone in hand.

‘He wants to talk to you’ She claimed, holding the phone out to her best friend.

‘What? Why?’

‘He’s in the west until tomorrow but I told him you were training so he said he could walk you through at least removing the rock!’

‘What?! No I can’t… no no Hel… Hello’ Dahlia was forced to take the phone from her hand.

‘Hi love, my name is Erryk Haelena told me about your degree, reckon you’re up for handling this?’ He mans deep voice questioned her through the phone.

‘Erm I guess’ Dahlia stuttered

‘Okay right I’m gonna video chat Haelena just so I can see the extent of the problem and I’ll talk you through everything’ he reassured her.

Dahlia’s heart was in her mouth the entire time, despite having the professional talk her through the process of preparing the horse, removing the stone and cleaning and bandaging the hoof. She wanted to relish in the feeling of pride for being able to learn and do something new but her nerves were shot, she was sweating and shaking. Once she had administered some pain killers to Melys and made sure he was safe and comfortable she made her way back up to the house, Haelena by her side beaming with pride.

‘You absolutely smashed that Dahl! You’re going to fly through your last unit!’

‘If it’s as nervy as that was then I may end up having a heart attack’ she giggled.

‘You’ll be fine! Plus you get to rub it in my brothers face now that you are in fact an animal expert!’ Haelena laughed, linking her arm with Dahlia’s as they continued up to the house.

Dahlia wanted to change and clean herself up before dinner, heading up the stairs to her room on the third floor. She was on the last few steps of the staircase when the door of Aemond’s bedroom opened and he stepped out onto the landing. There was a second where they just looked at each other, he didn’t say a word just shuffled past her onto the stairs. Dahlia sighed heavily and rolled her eyes at his stubborn pig headedness.

‘I didn’t drag you on your ass to embarrass you you know! That horse was going to kick you!’ she stated confidently breaking the silence.

‘I had it’ he mumbled as he continued stomping down the stairs.

‘Of course you did’ Dahlia grumbled, giving up with him and beginning down the landing towards her room.

‘Hey I’ve been working with these animals for the last nine years of my life! While you’ve been sat at a desk filling your head with all that generic shit about them so next time mind your damn business!’ he took a few steps back up the stairs to get her back in his eye line and yell back at her!

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