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bleedingoptimism · 1 year ago

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I have a prompt for you! Steve or Eddie finding out that the other one collects something. Maybe it's weird or silly or just surprising. I feel like one or both of them secretly collect stuff.

Eddie collects things, lots of things, he's a collector. He collects rocks he likes, every trinket, key chain, necklace, or ring he finds with a shape of a lizard. He collects dice and zines, cassettes, you name it, he collects.

When Steve realizes this, he starts saving weird rocks he sees to give to him later. They don't really talk about it, Steve never says anything and he actually kind of doesn't notice he's doing it. But sometimes Eddie will get in his car and Steve will tap the headboard and say, "There's something for you there," and Eddie will open the compartment and find a metal pin with the shape of a lizard and grab it a hold it and look at Steve and Steve will shrug, like its nothing and Eddie will continue to stare at Steve for a few minutes while he drives, and he'll pin and long and love him in silence.

He asks him once if he collects anything, but Steve shakes his head no. No trophies, no love letters, no polaroids.

They are hanging out at Steve's one lazy sunday afternoon when he finds it. He was looking for a lighter, Steve had refused to move from where he's lying limbs stretched like a star on the floor of his bedroom and pointed somewhere over his desk when Eddie had asked for it.

He's rummaging through the desk and opens the second drawer, starts moving things around when suddenly Steve is right behind him,

"It's not there! There's nothing there." he yelps, trying to close the drawer, and Eddie laughs and looks closer at the contents, thinking he'll find Steve's porn stash and make him blush a little, but instead he finds a movie tkt, a receipt, a napkin, and other things that don't make a lot of sense until it does.

Because the ticket is from a movie they saw together, and the receipt is from when they went to Indianapolis and ate greasy burgers at a diner in the middle of nowhere, and the napkin is from The Hideout and there's a leaf carefully pressed with duck tape that he's sure is the one he once gave Steve, when they were walking through the forest, sharing a smoke. A leaf, just a silly little leaf, he had grabbed it off the floor because it was brown and speckled with yellows and greens and it reminded him of the color of Steve's eyes when the light hit them just right. He'd given it to Steve without a word and Steve had smiled and twirled it in front of his face and then he had completely forgotten about it and here it was, in a drawer in Steve's room, along with a whole lot of things, mementos, of them.

Eddie looks at Steve, who is standing just to the side of him, completely red in the face and with his hands suspended in the air, either to push Eddie away and close the drawer or hold them up as surrender, he doesn't know.

They look at each other, both searching for something, asking questions, seeking answers. They look at their eyes, roam their faces, and end up on each other's lips, and Eddie smiles, big, happy, and enamored, he slowly moves to face Steve properly, closing the drawer with his hip and holds Steve's face between his palms and Steve leans into the touch closing his eyes for second before going back to stare at Eddie, and shily, he smiles back.

And Eddie dives in and kisses the boy who gifts him weird rocks, lizard trinkets, and dice. The boy who collects mementos. The boy he loves.

#stranger things #steddie #oh wow i fluffed the fuck up uh #i draft something #asks #this one was cute #i wrote something

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goodomenscalendar · 7 months ago

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What is this? | Submit your own event! or tag us! | Be sure to click through to the original post for the latest updates! Last edited: May 20th.

Ending Events

DIWS: Silver Screen Bang | Writer Sign-ups close May 3; Artist Sign-ups close May 20

The Good Omens Silver Screen Bang brings writers and artists together to retell a movie through a Good Omens lens! AUs and fusions welcome! Both SFW and NSFW content allowed. - @do-it-with-style-events - Twitter -

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Charity digital zine focused on Bildad era Crowley, fundraising period to benefit RAINN and Safeline! There are 2 editions available for instant download, plus digital extras: SFW (shoemaking) and NSFW (obstetrics)! - @bildadzine - Twitter - Instagram - Bluesky - Download on itch.io -

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In Love With My Car Zine: Volume 2 | Fundraising starts May 20

A zine dedicated to the vehicles in Good Omens. The zine will be free to download with the option of donating to the Mercury Phoenix Trust. Featuring SFW and NSFW content! - @in-love-with-my-car-zine -

#Good Omens #Good Omens Events #Fandom Events #zine #bang #fest #prompt #may #2024 #event calendar #trying some slightly new formatting from last month!!!#how do we feel about the @s? yay? nay?#also removed some multi fandom recurring events #bc this post became Very Long #so some of those will be added in for june's post!!

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shadowjackery · 1 year ago

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The Gladdest Thing Under the Sun

I honestly thought we were supposed to wait a couple of days after the zine’s release, but, heck, everyone else is doing it, so here we are: My contribution to @gensokyozine . I’ve wanted to do this story for a while, so I hope you enjoy!

Descriptive text for the visually impaired or for easy quotation:

PAGE 1

Title: "Shadowjack presents: The Gladdest Thing under the Sun"

Yuuka Kazami, a youkai woman, climbs the cracked stone steps to the ramshackle Hakurei Shrine. She carries a parasol. Up the wooded hill, through the pines, stand the shrine gate and two guardian komainu -- one of whom, Aunn, is alive and waving cheerfully, tail wagging. The plum and cherry trees atop the hill are in bloom. Dandelions sprout as Yuuka passes.

PAGE 2, PANEL 1

Title: "Yuuka Kazami, Flower Mistress of the Four Seasons"

Yuuka wears a summer outfit that evokes the mid-20th century: a vest over a short-sleeved blouse with a necktie, a knee-length pencil skirt, hose and heels, a handkerchief neatly folded in her vest pocket. She also wears glossy leather gauntlets and tight sleeve garters. Her hair is bobbed and curled in 1930s fashion. Her eyes are slitted, like a snake's.

She rests her head on her hand and gazes up at Reimu, rapt. A cat with black and white fur, spotted something like a yin-yang ball, lies nearby, watching her carefully.

PAGE 2, PANEL 2

Title: "Reimu Hakurei, Mysterious Shrine Maiden of Paradise"

Reimu, a human woman with a long ponytail, looks down at Yuuka, sweating slightly. She says, "Um... you know..."

PAGE 2, PANEL 3

Reimu wears her usual red-white shrine maiden robes and ribbons, much patched and threadbare. She is barefoot on the porch, holding a broom.

Reimu: "When you look at me like that, I get the feeling I'm about to be CUT and PRESSED."

Yuuka is shocked. "Oh, my! I would NEVER. A wild flower is best viewed in its natural habitat, always!"

PAGE 2, PANEL 4

Reimu, smiling: "I'm a wildflower?"

Yuuka, grinning: "One of the best!"

PAGE 3, PANEL 1

Reimu greets Yuuka at the entrance to her residence. Yuuka bows formally. She has brought a package, wrapped in cloth with a floral pattern.

Yuuka: "Ojama shimasu."

Reimu: "Hai, hai."

Reimu: "Everything is flowers with you, isn't it?"

Yuuka: "It could hardly be otherwise, dear! I am what I am."

PAGE 3, PANEL 2

Yuuka takes off her shoes, while Reimu places the parasol on the weapons rack by the door. The top shelf holds scrolls, boxes labelled "needles" and "seals", and one Mk 2 hand grenade.

A large sign by the rack says in printed text, "Check ALL weapons before coming in! Including but not limited to: Swords, Axes, Bows, Spears, Guns, Wands, Staffs, Parasols, Lasers, Bombs, Poisons, Curses," and so on.

A handwritten post-it note has been tacked to it, saying, "SEIJA -- Do NOT obey this!"

Another, ripped and faded sign has been taped by the list, adding, "MARISA -- Whatever it is now: NO. I mean it."

There is a bullethole next to the sign.

A different yin-yang cat watches Yuuka.

Reimu says, "So what kind of flower is Marisa?"

Yuuka: "She reminds me of pampas grass."

Reimu: "?"

Yuuka: "One of a few varieties of cortaderia, somewhat resembling susuki."

PAGE 3, PANEL 3

The two women go inside where there's more shade.

Yuuka: "It's a fast-growing, invasive species that can contribute to rat infestations and dangerous wildfires."

Reimu, laughing: "A WEED!"

Yuuka: "But charming in its way."

PAGE 3, PANEL 4, OFFSET

Somewhere, Marisa sneezes.

PAGE 4, PANEL 1

In Reimu's kitchen, the two together prepare afternoon tea, while two different cats beg at their feet. Reimu pours hot water from a large kettle into a cast-iron teapot. Yuuka takes down bowls and cups, and opens up the Japanese-style lunchboxes she brought.

Yuuka has put on an apron that parodies the "piyo piyo apron" worn by Kyoko in the manga "Maison Ikkoku", but instead of a drawing of a baby chick on the chest, it has a drawing of a Dragon Quest slime, saying "suu suu".

Reimu: "You aren't bothered she stole the Master Spark from you?"

Yuuka: "Oh, Marisa didn't steal it from me! She bargained for it fairly."

Reimu stops what she's doing to turn toward Yuuka. "Bullshit."

Yuuka: "It's true! I was curious to learn a little magic, and in exchange for lessons I agreed to trade her a cutting."

Reimu: "Huh!"

Yuuka: "I don't mind helping another gardener to improve their art. She makes it bloom well, doesn't she?"

PAGE 4, PANEL 2

Yuuka carries a tray of sandwiches and snacks out of the kitchen.

Yuuka: "Besides... to cast it ONCE, she needs a device."

A surprise second Yuuka, with long hair, and wearing trousers instead of a skirt, whisks the teapot and cups from Reimu's hands, leaving Reimu with nothing to do.

Yuuka, the second: "But I by myself can cast it TWICE."

PAGE 5, PANEL 1

Only one Yuuka again. Yuuka and Reimu kneel on the veranda to take their tea. One yin-yang cat nearby sprawls asleep in the sun, an orange tabby circles curiously, and a third cat sulks by Reimu.

Reimu: "Okay, then how about... Alice?"

Yuuka: "Ohhh... Alice is special. With her pride and ingenuity, she bears the seed of great potential for power."

PAGE 5, PANEL 2

Yuuka beams with enthusiasm. She says, "Why, if one could but prune away a few of her mortal failings -- such as 'restraint' or 'mercy' -- she could make a truly MARVELLOUS youkai!"

We can now observe that Yuuka's necktie is not knotted, but instead held by a silver woggle marked with a "lily of the valley" emblem.

PAGE 5, PANEL 3

Yuuka blushes happily. "She might even be stronger than I. Wouldn't that be an interesting day?" A heart floats in her words.

Reimu tries to hide her concern. She thinks, "Ganbatte, Alice-san..." But only says out loud, "...er, uh... and Yukari?"

PAGE 6, PANEL 1

Yuuka grins wolfishly. "Yukari and I have an arrangement: She doesn't meddle in my garden, and I don't BURN DOWN hers."

Reimu: "Isn't it weird that a youkai of FLOWERS is so good at fighting?"

Yuuka: "I'm surprised to hear that from a Japanese!"

Reimu: "You say that like you're not."

PAGE 6, PANEL 2

Yuuka: "I am known in many lands, by many names, wherever flowers grow."

Yuuka narrates the scene from the foreground, wearing a woman's kimono and lacquered okobo sandals. She carries now a Japanese-style paper parasol. Her hair is tied up in a bun with a cherry-blossom kanzashi, and she wears a sunflower hair ornament. She is surrounded by flowers: chrysanthemum, hollyhock, and birthwort, and above her spreads blooming sakura.

Yuuka: "Did not your own samurai describe themselves as cherry blossoms, and fight for emperor and shogun under the banners of the chrysanthemum and hollyhock?"

In the midground, two armored samurai clash. The lower-status one has fallen to the ground; the richer has a bloody slash across his left eye. He swings his sword and chops the grounded man's spear in two, but the other is undaunted.

In the background, an army of horse and foot mounts the top of the hill, banners billowing.

PAGE 7, PANEL 1

Now Yuuka narrates wearing a huipil dress with embroidered shawl, and simple leather slippers. Her hair is done in buns, with a Mexican sunflower by her ear. A hummingbird flies near her. Growing around her are Aztec marigold, dahlias, banana yucca, and Mexican hat flowers.

Yuuka: "Across the sea to your east, the mighty Mexica gathered their 'hummingbird' soldiers to send to the 'Flower Wars' (they named them) to gather honor, blood, and sacrifices."

In the midground, the fighters are now two Nahuatl, one poor, one rich with a slashed left eye. The poorer one wears only a loincloth, and has a shield slung over his shoulder. His shield is painted with a hummingbird design, and from it hang a few feathers. The richer soldier wears a full-body jaguar costume, and wields a macuahuitl war-club. The poor soldier leaps to his feet and tackles his enemy, disarming him.

In the background, an army of Aztecs battle below a stepped pyramid and high mountains.

PAGE 7, PANEL 2

Now Yuuka narrates wearing men's doublet and hose, embroidered with fleur-de-lis and tulips, along with knee-high riding boots and gauntlets. Around her neck is a sunflower pendant. On her shoulder perches a falcon. About her feet, and entangling the narration boxes, are red, white, and yellow roses.

Yuuka: "And to the far west, the lords of the English struggled for a choice of kingly roses, red Lancaster or snowy York."

In the midground, the fighters are now two Englishmen, again one poorer, the other richer with the eye injury. The poorer soldier has some mail pieces and a simple brimmed helmet; the richer has plate armor, a full helm, and a shield. The rich fighter is overthrown, his foe about to stab him through the visor with his own arming sword.

In the background, mounted knights charge a line of archers behind wooden stakes. A church or fort stands on hills in the far distance.

Yuuka: "Flowers and War have always been intertwined."

PAGE 7, PANEL 3

We return to Reimu's veranda and cherry trees.

Reimu: "You've seen so many strange places... Do you have a favorite?"

Yuuka: "...it was in the west, in Flanders, perhaps a hundred years ago."

PAGE 8, PANEL 1

Yuuka invisibly narrates: "Such a war, Reimu! The men burrowed like moles, or took to the air like kites."

Above barbed wire, two airplanes spit tracers at each other. It is World War One.

PAGE 8, PANEL 2

Yuuka: "They plowed the earth with cannon, night and day."

Shirtless German artillerymen fire their gun amid sandbags. Something explodes close by.

PAGE 8, PANEL 3

Yuuka: "They slew by shot and poison, fire and blade."

A gasmasked French soldier, armed with pistol and entrenching tool, cautiously moves down a trench. An unseen enemy waits around the corner with rifle and bayonet.

PAGE 8, PANEL 4

Yuuka: "And for no purpose that I could see, no treasure nor slave."

Barbed wire and ruined buildings.

PAGE 8, PANEL 5

Yuuka, narrating: "The destruction was so maniacal it seemed no tree, no blade of grass, would ever grow there again. I thought you humans had gone absolutely mad!"

Yuuka, wearing colorful hat, coat, and umbrella, stands on a windy no-man's land, surrounded by dull mud and broken pieces. Tracer fire crosses the sky, coming from a distant machine-gun nest. She notices, but does not bother to avoid, the few bullets that land near her.

Yuuka, narrating: "But it was I who did not understand your passion. When I learned your true intentions, I was deeply humbled."

PAGE 8, PANEL 6

Yuuka, narrating: "Did you know, Reimu? You can find graves in the wild by how the flowers grow. (Bone meal makes such good fertilizer.)"

The corpse of a soldier lies upon the ruined earth. But near his outstretched arm, a single bluebell, and a few patches of grass, have sprouted.

PAGE 8, PANEL 7

Now there are no bodies, but grass and wildflowers and bumblebees cover the ground. A shattered helmet has a flower growing through the holes.

Yuuka, narrating: "I tell you that after this great war, those fields FLUORISHED with color. Rainbows spilled on seas of green grass!"

PAGE 9

Yuuka, narrating: "And ever after, all through those lands, the people wore blood-red poppies, to remember and give thanks to their kindred who slept below, for this sight they had worked so hard to create."

Yuuka wears early-20th century men's hunting clothes: a sturdy jacket and breeches with knee-high boots and gloves. Her curled hair is in a loose pompadour. As ever, she has a parasol. The sun shines warmly. The hill Yuuka walks down is covered in grass and bright red poppy flowers, stretching on forever. The plants almost completely cover a few remaining pieces of military hardware: a broken machine-gun, a lost helmet, a twist of barbed wire. Yuuka smiles.

Yuuka, narrating: "Tens of thousands of men willingly buried themselves for nothing better than the GLORY of FLOWERS!"

PAGE 9, PANEL 2, INSET

We return to Reimu's veranda. Yuuka clutches a handkerchief, almost overcome with romantic tears.

Yuuka: "It was the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen!"

Reimu stares at her and says nothing.

PAGE 10, PANEL 1

Yuuka says, "Excuse me!", wipes her tears, and takes out her compact to redo her makeup.

Reimu thinks, "Yuuka is one of my oldest friends, but she really is a monster, isn't she? I don't even know how to BEGIN to explain the truth to her... or if I even should."

PAGE 10, PANEL 2

Title: "FLOWERS appearing in this story."

Many cut flowers are arranged on a wooden surface, with identifying captions. In no particular order, they are: primrose, fleur-de-lis (yellow iris), common sunflower, anemone, dandelion, Mexican sunflower, tulip, rose, cempoalxóchitl (Aztec marigold), dahlia, banana yucca, Mexican hat flower, pineapple sage, bee orchid, celandine, Flanders poppy, lily-of-the-valley, bluebell, daffodil, kiku (chrysanthemum), aoi (birthwort), hollyhock, ume (Japanese plum), and sakura (Japanese cherry).

PAGE 10, PANEL 3

In a simplified art style:

Reimu pats Alice on the shoulder and says, "Alice, we sure attract some weird ones, don't we?"

Alice wears her usual workdress and hairband, but also has sturdy explosive ordnance disposal goggles and gloves. She is inserting a stick of dynamite into the back of a Hatsune Miku doll. Other dolls and marionettes (and one teddy bear) fill the room, all with visible dynamite fuzes sticking out of their heads, and all with glowing eyes.

Alice says, "Don't disturb me when I'm setting the explosive charges! If they went off, they could hurt the dolls."

Reimu: "...This is why she likes you, you know."

Alice: "?"

END

#fan comic #touhou #yuuka kazami #reimu hakurei

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red-tape-zine · 2 months ago

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Leftover sales!

Did you miss your chance to snag Volume 2 of the Red Tape Zine? Don't worry, we have the shop open for our leftover sale! As a bonus, we also have some B-Grade Volume 1 books available as well. Check it out!

#ineffable bureaucracy #good omens #good omens zine #red tape zine #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub

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invidiaesc · 2 months ago

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🕊️ Red Tape Zine - Volume 2 🪰 https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Red_Tape https://redtapezine.bigcartel.com/

Thank You @red-tape-zine !!!!!!

So I can finally share my drawings on this GREAT PROJECT!!!! I was so happy when I received the magazine and all the merch!!!! My first Zine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Thank You so much for this amazing work!!!!!! 💖💖💖💖 I'm so proud of ALL THE ZINE !!!!!

Is Extremely Beautiful, and is my honor to be a part of it! 🤗 THANK YOU!!!!!!!!! Especially @miumiumanzo and IrkenProperty for the amazing keychains! ✨ The fanfictions, the art, the merch, everything and everyone Thank you, BEST SERVER, BEST PEOPLE, BEST WORK! 💖 EVERYTHING IS GORGEOUS AND I LOVE EVERY SECOND!!! 🥰

#invidiaesc #ineffablebureaucracy #goodomens #zines #zineart #I'll be sharing my work separated tomorrow #for start I'll be sharing only the entire zine post!#All I made was 2 drawings and 2 stickers ♥#The ones with the knife and heart!#I'll probably go to sleep but I really wanted to post before

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whumpsday · 1 year ago

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Power Play

Writing Masterlist

content: kidnapping, ritual sacrifice, begging, hand whump, impalement, mouth whump, knives/skin carving, demon whumper, creepy whumper, major character death, gore

this is my piece for @zineofgid !! this was such an awesome project to work on :)

you can still buy the guys in distress zine here! proceeds go to the charity RAINN. there are limited physical copies and unlimited digital copies, as well as some merch left. do keep in mind that while my piece is sfw, this is an 18+ zine and a lot of other contributors' pieces are very much NOT sfw!

this piece was done as part of a collaboration with @whump-queen, with ocs we made together! he made art that accompanies this piece, you can view it here! it depicts the end of the story so you might wanna wait til after you read it though if you care about spoilers (also linked at the end)

Jonah’s breaths came hard and fast as Reese dumped him out of the large duffle bag, onto the cold floor of his basement.

He immediately tried to struggle to his feet, but his wrists and ankles had been bound with way too many layers of duct tape, making it impossible. Reese easily kicked him to the floor, placing a boot firmly on his chest and keeping him there.

“Ah-ah-ah.” his captor tutted, ripping the tape off his mouth. “I’m sorry to say that you will never see outside this room again.”

“You’re crazy!” Jonah screamed, unable to keep the terror out of his voice. His heart hammered in his chest, right under Reese’s boot.

“You have been messing with my campaign.” Reese countered, as if kidnapping was equivalent to Jonah doing his damn job. “Arnett didn’t start climbing in the polls until she brought you on as manager.” He dug his boot in deeper, making it a little hard for Jonah to breathe, pressing his bound wrists painfully into the floor under his back.

Despite admittedly-minimal efforts to retain his composure, Jonah found himself trembling. “So, what? You’re going to- kill me?”

There was no way he could fight this man off. Reese was bigger and stronger than him; it was pathetic how little he’d been able to struggle when Reese had initially incapacitated him. Now he was bound with tape and at an even bigger disadvantage. The thought that he could really die here blared through his mind like a siren, urging him to do whatever he could to escape, as if there was anything he could do.

“Not exactly. I’m not going to kill you.” Reese finally stepped off Jonah’s chest, only to kick him over and press a knee into his back instead. “Don’t mistake this as petty vengeance. I needed someone, and you happened to be an enticing target.”

It was only then, staring across the floor instead of at the ceiling, that Jonah noticed his surroundings.

A large pentagram, easily five feet, laid painted red in the center of the room, a hammer and nails set next to it.

“What the fuck?” he whispered in cold horror.

“Thanks to you, it’s clear that a good, honest campaign by a good, honest man isn’t enough to make it in politics. Luckily, there are other ways to get ahead in life, if you do enough research,” Reese explained, like it made perfect sense.

“Is that blood?” Jonah asked, voice small, staring at the red of the pentagram painted meticulously into the floor.

“It is. My very own.”

Jonah’s line of questioning was instantly interrupted when felt the side of a blade against his forearm.

He writhed, his struggles renewed. “Get away from me with that thing!”

“Hold still, or I might nick you. You want that tape off, don’t you?” Reese leaned down. Jonah could feel his breath on the back of his neck as Reese’s knee pressed further into his lower back.

Jonah went still, barring the tremors he couldn’t control. As much as he hated to admit it, Reese was right: aimlessly moving around with a knife millimeters from his skin would only get him hurt. He didn’t resist as he felt steel slide harmlessly against him, the layers of tape cut away and peeled off.

Before he could even think about running, Reese grabbed both his newly-freed hands and dragged him over to the pentagram. Jonah started struggling again, but there was little he could do against the iron grip.

Reese pointed to one of the triangles making up the pentagram. “You will kneel or I will make you kneel.”

He didn’t know what else to do, and pissing off his captor seemed like a recipe for disaster, so he knelt as indicated.

Reese bound one hand to Jonah’s body with more tape, bringing the other to a point of the pentagram. He pressed Jonah’s palm against the star’s tip, stepping firmly against his wrist to hold it there.

“Now, stay nice and still.”

Reese picked up the hammer and one of the nails.

“What are you doing?!” Jonah tried to pull his hand away, but Reese just pressed his boot down harder.

“What I said. Just making sure you stay still.” Reese positioned the nail in the center of Jonah’s hand, the sharp tip pricking at his skin. Jonah’s breath grew rapid in anticipation of what was about to happen to him.

“Wait, don’t, don’t don’t no no no-!”

Pain exploded in his hand as the THWACK of the hammer hit the nail and pierced his skin, and Jonah finally screamed. He tried again to pull his hand away, to pull his whole body away, but it was useless. He was trapped.

“Stop! Stop stop stop, you’re crazy!” he cried, tears spilling over and running down his face. The nail settled on the floor’s surface, just barely poking through the tender skin of his palm from the inside, making its way through muscle and ligaments and tendons.

“You can think what you like. Doesn’t matter to me,” Reese commented nonchalantly.

The hammer came down again. Jonah’s second scream was less intense than the first, as if his voice itself were scared, breaking off into a sob. A few more taps left the nail buried snugly in the floor, the head resting against the back of his hand as a bit of blood escaped from under it.

Jonah panted hard, adrenaline coursing through him. His hand wouldn’t move from where it sat fastened to the pentagram even after Reese removed his boot from his wrist: even twitching his fingers sent a horrible jolt through it.

“Good job, you’re doing very well.” Reese praised, patting Jonah on the head. “And now, the other one.”

“NO!” Jonah cried. “Stop! You have to stop!”

“Shh, it’s okay.” The sheer calm Reese talked about it with sent shivers down his spine. “It’ll all be over soon.”

Reese freed his uninjured hand, and Jonah clutched it protectively to his chest, shaking. “Leave me alone,” he begged tearily.

His captor grabbed his hand and brought it to the opposite point of the pentagram, stretching him out painfully and forcing his head and chest to the ground. Much to his dismay, Reese stepped down on his other wrist and readied the hammer and nails again.

Jonah strained his neck to look up at Reese, desperate. “What do you want? I’ll quit, okay? I’ll stop running Arnett’s campaign, you’ll never see me again. Just stop.”

“Oh, Jonah. Like I said, I needed someone. It just happened to be you.” Reese started on the other hand. No matter how much he screamed, it wouldn’t stop. Unlike the first nail, which seemed to slip in between his bones, this one landed right on top of the small, delicate bones inside his hand and smashed through them uncaring, the pain blinding.

Jonah was a mess by this point, sobbing into the floor. “I don’t wanna die like this,” he sniffled.

Reese cupped his face. “Look at it this way. You’re dying for something bigger than yourself. More powerful. Now, I think that’s about enough complaining out of you.”

The grip on his face grew tighter and tighter, fingers pressing tightly into the sides of his jaw, until Jonah was forced to open his mouth. Reese grabbed his tongue and pulled it, touching it to the center of the pentagram. Even among the throbbing pain in his hands and the horrifying situation, Jonah’s face crinkled in disgust.

Reese grabbed another nail.

Jonah’s disgust was immediately forgotten, replaced by overwhelming terror. He tried fruitlessly to shake his head away, making what little terrified noises of protest he could manage, as Reese settled the tip of the nail against his tongue.

A whine of fear escaped him, and he looked up at his captor pleadingly. Please don’t do this.

“Just try to relax,” Reese advised, as if it was at all possible.

The hammer slammed against the head of the nail, sending it straight through Jonah’s tongue and into the floor. Jonah wailed with intolerable pain, hot tears slipping down his cheeks, no longer able to form pleas. All he could taste was his own fresh blood, running over Reese’s painted on the floor.

Reese gave it a few more firm taps until the head of the nail almost crushed Jonah’s tongue under it, undeterred by Jonah’s cries.

“There we go.” Reese disappeared from Jonah’s tear-blurry line of sight. A moment later, he felt the side of the knife against the back of his neck. He squealed in distress, unable to even thrash against his bonds anymore.

But the knife didn’t plunge into him. Instead, it glided downward to the sound of tearing fabric until Jonah’s shirt fell limply in front of him. Reese ran a hand over his exposed back, Jonah’s tense muscles shuddering under the touch.

“This is the final step.” Jonah jolted as best he could in his immobilized state as he felt the tip of the knife between his shoulderblades- not digging in yet, but threatening to.

“Nghh!” Jonah couldn’t say much else with his tongue nailed down. He couldn’t even shake his head. Nothing he could do to indicate NO would be enough here, anyway. Reese didn’t care for his opinion.

He screamed as the knife buried itself in flesh, not deep enough to touch bone, but far from shallow. It glided along his back in a sweeping stroke, before Reese lifted it and picked a new spot to carve into him, no matter how much he cried and tried to writhe away from the sharp, insistent pain.

Slice after bold, swirling slice, Reese painted a pattern in the splitting of his skin, spending the most time on an intricate design between his shoulder blades. Jonah was pretty sure it was supposed to be an eye, but he was too hazy with agony and blood loss to tell.

Finally, Reese pulled the knife away from his mangled back. “There, all done. Soon you won’t even feel it.”

Jonah could only sob in response, trembling from pain and fear. Everything hurt. His entire body felt like it had been through a paper shredder. He could feel the blood running off the sides of his back and pooling beneath his folded-up legs, soaking his knees.

He watched as Reese lit candles in a circle around him, painting the room in a warm glow, and began chanting in a language Jonah couldn’t understand- Latin, maybe? What a pointless thing to die for. What would happen to him when none of this worked and no demon showed up? Would Reese concede and let him go? Probably not. Jonah imagined the knife plunging into his chest, the last thing he ever saw the face of his murderer. At least the pain would stop.

Slowly, as Reese chanted, The sigil carved into Jonah’s back began to burn.

Just a little at first, but getting hotter and hotter until Jonah was writhing in pain, trying to free his hands despite the nails holding them in place and hurting worse and worse the more he tugged on them. What was happening to him? It felt like someone had run boiling oil through the gashes in his skin. It was unbearable. He needed it to stop. Jonah squeezed his eyes closed, releasing a sound akin to a dying animal at the excruciating pain.

When he opened his eyes… a figure stood in front of him, half-materialized, like it was creating itself out of thin air. The warm orange glow of the candles began to shift to a cold, too-bright violet.

He strained his eyes up to see, the angle much less than ideal with his tongue bolted to the floor. He wasn’t sure if that was the reason they looked so massive, or if they really were abnormally tall, but a glance at Reese for comparison proved it to be the latter.

Everything about them looked unnatural, all bright colors that might mark a plant or animal as toxic, screaming at his nailed-down body to run. Glowing fuschia markings slithered all over their skin, the pattern looking suspiciously like the one Jonah could feel carved into his back. A giant scorpion-like tail snaked out from behind them.

Jonah stared up at the- the demon, apparently. As their form became more solid, Jonah’s back burned less and less, the only thing he could possibly be thankful for in this moment.

The demon eyed him back threefold, an impossibly-wide grin full of sharp teeth splitting their six-eyed face. Jonah couldn’t help but whimper under their gaze.

“Izuloth!” Reese shouted, suddenly seeming so much less intimidating compared to the monstrosity before him.

Izuloth broke eye contact to direct their attention to him, their smile faltering and their eyebrow twitching with annoyance. Several of their eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I’ve summoned you! I’ve captured a sacrifice, carved your sigil, drawn this pentagram in my own blood. You will now grant me power, as promised,” Reese declared confidently.

The smile returned. “Awfully presumptuous, human. I don’t remember promising anything.”

“What- what are you talking about?” Reese sputtered. “That’s what it said in the book! You are now under my control!”

Izuloth smirked. “Oh, is that what it said. That was nice of them to put in there. Makes fools like you much more likely to summon me. Hm, I don’t think I care for your attitude, though.”

They snapped their fingers.

Jonah watched in horror as Reese’s body began to unravel in front of him. Skin peeled from muscle, exposing raw, bloody flesh and piling on the floor below in a wet heap that splashed Jonah’s face with blood- he could taste it on his outstretched tongue.

Reese tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle as his tongue joined the rest of his exposed muscles in shredding to bits, as if taken to on all sides, inside and out, with an invisible cheese grater. It was over within a minute: the remnants of his body collapsed to the floor, twitching with life for only a moment before going still.

Jonah was alone with Izuloth.

He whined in terror, too frozen to even try tugging at his restraints. If the demon could do that, it wouldn’t be any use anyway.

Izuloth, to his dismay, turned their attention back to him. “Now, where were we?”

They reached a hand down to pet his hair. Jonah squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body tensed up in anticipation.

Suddenly, Izuloth grabbed his hair and pulled. Jonah’s eyes flew right back open as his tongue ripped right out of the nail, bisecting it down the middle with an agonizing tear. His scream of pain cut short when Izuloth grabbed him by the frayed end of his tongue, their many-eyed face inches away.

“Pretty thing, I think I’ll keep you.”

ART BY AKIA WHUMP-QUEEN!!!

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

one-shots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthisiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

#whump #my writing #demon whumper #ritual sacrifice #begging #hand whump #mouth whump #impalement #creepy whumper #major character death #gore #guys in distress

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kumeko · 2 months ago

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A/N: For the @zodiac-carnival-zine! I love the banter and easy friendship between these three (with Hatori barely keeping these two from falling into chaos).

…

Hatori was a busy man. He had to be as the Sohma family doctor. His clan was a large, sprawling one, and he had more patients than he had hair. Between his constantly complaining elders and his rambunctious younger kin, he had his hands full.

All of that wasn’t including his twelve special patients. They weren’t special in the sense that they had a lot of health problems, needing specialized care and constant attention. No, they were special in the sense that eleven of them were cursed to transform into the twelve zodiac animals. Special in the sense that the twelfth patient was a single, sadistic god. If it weren’t for the fact that he was the twelfth zodiac animal, Hatori wouldn’t have believed a word about the family curse.

Oddly enough, that wasn’t the strangest part of his family—no, that was reserved for the fact that they all lived in a circus. He had never been able to make heads nor tails of that fact, only that it was. At least it was a permanently based one, instead of a travelling circus; he couldn’t imagine the effort it would take to transport the entire clan from city to city.

The only benefit to it was that it wasn’t unusual to see a tiger or a horse here, so it wasn’t too hard hiding a transformation. Not that his own transformation was anything special—the dragon he turned into was more of a sea horse than a beast to be feared. For a while he had considered studying veterinary medicine, just in case, but now he was grateful that he didn’t. Who knew how busy his days would have been then?

Actually, he knew the answer to that: the same as now, too busy. Which is why he didn’t have the time to stand in front of a full-length mirror, his arms erect at his side as he made a giant ‘T’ shape. Grumpily, he stared at his reflection. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” Standing next to him, Ayame gasped and clutched his chest. His measuring tape hung loosely between his fingers as he swayed back and forth. “You don’t like my costumes?”

Hatori bit his cheek. In all honesty, the black pants were a little too loose for his tastes. The only saving grace was the soft blue shirt, the tamest thing he’d seen come out of Ayame’s wardrobe. It missed all the bells, frills, and whistles that usually made up Ayame’s fashion sense. Still, there was no point in bringing that up. “No, that wasn’t—”

“This magnificent cape is more than just a cape, Tori,” Ayame argued passionately, plucking a regal blue cape off a nearby chair and draping it across Hatori’s back. “Look at how elegant the fur trim is, how passionate the blue, how eye-catching the apparel is—this is truly the outfit of a hero!”

He felt a headache forming. “Again, that wasn’t what I said.”

Shigure poked his head out of one of the many costume-filled racks. The red tent was utterly filled with them, making the small place feel even smaller and cozier. Wearing a pirate hat and an eye patch, he raised a brow. “What’s not to like? It’s a world of dreams.”

“Gure!” Ayame turned back to Shigure. Hatori could almost see the hearts in his eyes. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Of course I would, Aya,” Shigure replied, traipsing over. Now that he was fully out of the rack, Hatori could make out the space suit he was wearing, and not for the first time he wondered just what Shigure was up to. Clasping Ayame’s hands, Shigure crooned, “Your dreams are mine.”

“I only see you in them every night,” Ayame murmured back, a grateful smile crossing his face. The lighting from Ayame’s workstation only made them look all the more dramatic.

Exactly three seconds after (and it was always three seconds, Hatori wasn’t sure just when those two had figured that three seconds of staring was the exact right amount, but they had), Shigure and Ayame turned to him with identical grins, giving him a thumbs up. “See?” they parroted at the same time.

“See what?” Hatori replied dryly, resisting the urge to sigh. He’d been through this who knew how many times, yet they always managed to tire him out. “Anyways, that’s not it. Your costumes are very well made, Ayame.”

“Tori!” Letting go of Shigure, Ayame leaped forward and hugged Hatori tightly. “I knew you’d like them.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Shigure asked, already turning back to the racks. Hatori knew with a hundred percent certainty that the man was bored; he was only here to try on different costumes. As long as he wasn’t stirring up trouble elsewhere, Hatori would just have to live with it.

“It’s just…” Hatori brushed his hair back, running his fingers through his locks. “I’m the only doctor, I don’t have time to be a performer too.”

“Why can’t you be both?” Ayame asked, pulling back slightly and cocking his head.

“Please don’t ask that seriously.” Hatori sighed again. “I don’t have enough time. I don’t understand why Akito ordered us to perform together again.”

“Akito just likes pushing you,” Shigure replied, rifling through the racks. He pulled out several hangers as he talked. Hatori wasn’t sure if he was imagining the slight jealousy in Shigure’s voice.

“I really don’t need to be pushed,” Hatori grumbled, patting Ayame on the back before gently extracting himself. “Even just taking care of our group is more than enough on my plate.”

Not listening, Shigure murmured, “Or maybe he’s feeling insecure after all…”

“Insecure?” Hatori wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that last part, or if he even wanted to. He had his suspicions that Tohru, their new part-timer, hadn’t actually just stumbled into the job like Shigure had claimed. That perhaps his childhood friend was up to something devious.

The only question was if he had enough energy to deal with it all. The answer was a resounding no and he sighed. “Please don’t drag others into your schemes.”

“Schemes? Me?” Shigure plopped a princess crown on his forehead and tried on a pair of angel wings. He gave the most innocent look possible. “Never. Besides, you spend wayyyy too much time in your tent. You need a break.”

“And what greater break is there, than performing with us?” Ayame had stars in his eyes as he posed dramatically. “The bright lights shining down on us, the audience clapping, a flurry of petals—it’ll be just like the good old days.”

Shigure crossed his arms and nodded sagely. “Women swooning, girls wanting my number again—I can’t wait.”

Hatori wasn’t sure how much of that was a joke, and how much of it was serious. It was probably both, considering Shigure. “This doesn’t sound like much of a break.”

He hadn’t really expected a response. Which was good, because as usual he didn’t get one. The pair had a feedback loop between them, pumping each other higher. Or rather, Shigure was pumping Ayame higher because he refused to put the breaks on the whole thing.

“Perfect casting, the three of us as the three musketeers.” Shigure raked a hand through his dark hair, pushing his bangs back as he gave a rakish grin. “Utterly flawless.”

“And romantic!” Ayame added, raising an imaginary sword. His measuring tape and other costume making tools were long forgotten and Hatori had no doubt this measuring session would take far longer than it ought to. His silver hair flowed around him as he twirled. “The brotherhood, the betrayal, the friendship—romance at its finest.”

“Romantic, huh?” Hatori paused at that. Tohru flashed across his mind. Perhaps there was some value to this after all.

After the snow melts, spring comes.

He smiled automatically. Maybe he could pay her back for earlier with a front row ticket. She seemed like she’d enjoy a good love story.

“Ohhh?” While he’d been distracted, Ayame had gotten close once more, leaving only the faintest gap between them as he looked into Hatori’s eyes. He smirked slyly. “What’s that, Tori? Are you thinking about someone? Is it…a man’s romance?”

Hatori did not want to know what that meant. Frowning, he stepped back. “Not at all.”

“Are you sure?” Shigure was suddenly at his other side, wearing a Cheshire grin, “You weren’t thinking about anyone?”

“Yes.” Giving him a deadpan look, he flicked Shigure on the forehead. It was important to stop nonsensical thoughts from latching to his brain for too long—Hatori didn’t need to handle yet another one of his schemes. “Now, let’s get this over with. I still have patients to see.”

“Booooo,” Shigure pouted, rubbing his forehead. “That hurt.”

“Stop crying.” Rolling his eyes, Hatori stepped back in front of the mirror and spread his arms. “Ayame?”

“Of course!” Ayame skipped past Shigure, humming softly as he started to measure once more. “I’m glad you’re taking a break. You need it.”

Ayame’s tone was utterly soft, utterly kind, and Hatori relaxed. “This still sounds more like work than a break,” he replied, but the bite was out of his voice. He couldn’t help it—it was impossible to stay mad at his friends for long. However misguided their actions were, it was out of caring that they prodded him like they did.

And he was a lucky man to have so many people care for him.

Though, if they really cared, they’d learn how to rein in their behaviours more. Half of his problems would disappear.

“But, you’re right.” Hatori smiled back, shifting slightly as Ayame adjusted the cape on his shoulders. In the mirror, it looked rather roguish. “It’ll be fun to work with you two again.”

“Fun?” Shigure asked, smirking.

“Fun,” Hatori repeated. For all the headaches, the time he spent with them had always been enjoyable.

“Lots of fun,” Ayame agreed, wrapping an arm around Hatori’s shoulder as he examined their reflection in the mirror. Seemingly content with what he saw, he let go and went to grab the matching hat form where it’d been thrown haphazardly on a chair. “That reminds me, Yuki, yes that Yuki, has asked me to make his costume.”

“Yuki did?” Hatori almost couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, isn’t it amazing! Our brotherly love has pushed through, connecting once more!” Ayame clutched the hat tightly and dabbed his eyes with the brim. “He came to me, tears in his eyes, and asked me to make it for him and his princess, Tohru.”

Shigure snickered as he chimed in, “And Kyo’s playing the horse.”

Hatori was about 90% certain that Shigure had a hand in that.

“He will be the most noble steed ever seen.” Ayame pumped his fist. Hatori could almost see waves crashing behind him. “For he is carrying my darling Yuki into battle. I have already started Yuki’s thirteen-layer suit, and the fifteen ruffles on Tohru’s dress. No one will have ever seen a greater—”

Hatori rubbed his forehead. Maybe after this vacation, he could get another one to relax from the first one.

#fruits basket #ayame sohma #shigure sohma #hatori sohma #mabudachi trio #fanfic #these three are pure chaos #i mean two #my apologies to hatori for lumping him in with them like that #when he's just the wall keeping the rest of us safe

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sanguinevampirezine · 1 year ago

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