#tw// mouth torture

[pastelclovds]

𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄, 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 || AM x male!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: AM (obviously), psychological torture, isolation, fear of being alone, toxic relationship, stalking, manipulation, AM being a jealous prick, angst, hurt/comfort if you squint, fluff if you look through a magnifying glass, AM being touch starved, forced dependency, reader just wants friends and to be loved, reader is demisexual and biromantic.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.6 k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: obsessed. let me tell you how much i’ve come to be obsessed with ihnmaims since i found out about it through tadc—… (enjoy the fic <3) will this be a series? yep. will this end well? hell no. this was inspired by TADC ep 2 and @/fuzedatti’s AM and post.

The century you’ve spent in the belly of AM passed by in a blur. If it weren’t for Nimdok informing you what came of the world, you would’ve lived in ignorance. You would’ve never known that the reason the world is a wasteland was because of a super computer going rogue.

Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really have any memories about your childhood or past before AM destroyed the world. The only memories you had were the traumatic experiences of your life. The experiences AM allowed you to have in order to psychologically torture you. He allowed you to keep your name as well.

AM would whisk you away from the others to a secluded area in order to torture you privately before sending you back with the group. You had no idea why he did this. The others didn’t either. For all they knew you could be fucking their tormentor. But as the countless years passed, they all realized that AM didn’t alter anything about you. Nor did he seem to physically hurt you.

In fact, the violent storms and impossible challenges AM forced them to participate in seemed to ignore you completely.

In one challenge, you and the others were trapped in an oven like room that would continue to increase in temperature unless you flipped all 100 switches in the room in 10 minutes. There was only two switches left, they were in your grasp. But as you flipped one, the other was stuck and couldn’t flip until the time was up. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the painful death.

But instead of a fiery demise, your eardrums were filled with the blood curdling screams of your fellow victims as the flames claimed them. All while you were perfectly fine. The raspy laugher of AM filled your ears as well as his cruel words “It’s your fault” repeated over and over inside your head until you wished the flames killed you too.

The men were furious at you and AM. You because you couldn’t flip one fucking switch, and AM because he’s the reason they had to flip the stupid switches in the first place. But they held their tongue. Something in the back of their heads told them if they tried, they’d be in a world of pain. That theory alone was enough for them to hate you even more and avoid you as much as possible.

You thought you were alone before. But this was almost too much. You would take anything. Punches, hugs, venomous insults, compliments, anything to not feel alone.

Ellen was, as always, the only one who took pity on you and showed you kindness when you most needed it. She’d praise you for the littlest things you did and encourage you do to more. That was enough to make Ellen your favorite person in this entire miserable world.

You didn’t like her in a romantic way. You also rejected her offer to have sexual relations like she’d done with the rest of the men. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, she was gorgeous. Anyone would be lucky to be with her. You just saw her as more of a mother figure, the cool girl who was always nice to the dorks like you, and the kind old lady who would hand out freshly baked cookies to strangers.

Not only that, but in order for you to desire sex with someone, you needed to get to know them on a personal level. But, since everyone kept to themselves, you hadn’t felt the need.

Ellen was surprised at your rejection but respected it. The men looked at you like you were crazy, but for once you didn’t really care what they thought in this scenario. You looked up to Ellen, you loved her.

Your admiration for Ellen was not taken kindly by AM, however. He would seethe in jealousy as he watched your eyes follow Ellen like a stray mutt given food for the first time in days. How could you like her as much as you did just because she gave you a few measly words of affection. He hadn’t altered you because he didn’t see a need to. He lessened your torment to psychological because he… You were too oblivious to understand why the others really hated you. He decided he’ll give you a reality check.

One day, he observed you crying yourself to sleep as you held yourself in a pathetic attempt to feel warmth. Pretending it was someone in the group consoling you as they let you sob in their shoulders. Only to wake up to the wicked reality that there was nobody there. You couldn’t help the depressed thoughts taking over.

You were cold, you weren’t escaping this hell, no one loved you. Even yourself.

“No!” You thought to yourself, “The others acknowledge me, that was enough. It could be worse. So much worse. I could be the only one AM had to torture for the rest of eternity. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be fine as long as I had them. Right?”

AM enjoyed watching your adorable face twist into intoxicating misery as you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t alone. It made whenever he took you away from the group all the more special. Because you couldn’t rely on anyone else for security but him.

You let out a gasp of surprise when you were suddenly lifted up into the air by a cluster of wind, you tried to grab onto the edge of the slab of rock you were taking shelter under in a desperate attempt to not go where the wind— where AM was taking you. When your stupid fingers couldn’t grab hold, you beg the others to help you. Your heart broke when the men just stared at you uninterested before going back to what they were doing before. Ellen looked up at you with woeful eyes, wishing to help you but it was useless to do so.

WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING? THEY CLIMB ON EACH OTHERS SHOULDERS TO RESCUE YOU? NAIVE, STUPID LITTLE THING.

You couldn’t help but secretly agree. They were too far away from you to actually help. Plus, what can they do against a god-like ai like AM. Nothing. So you couldn’t be angry, none the less blame them. You couldn’t hate the people who hurt you for the life of you.

That thought made AM want to roll his eyes if he had any. But at the same time brought a sense of content.

After a 10 minutes of floating further and further away from the group, AM lowered you until you were five feet off the ground to drop you completely. 

You let out a groan of pain when you roughly landed on your back. You reached behind your back to feel your hurt flesh and bite back a whine when you pressed on it.

“Yep. That’s definitely going to bruise.” You thought.

You took a second to look at your surroundings. The once barren wasteland, was now a beautiful forest. The grass was long and pricked your legs in an uncomfortable fashion. A calm wind made the green leaves in the trees and bushes rustle and swish. The sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing made your spine tingle in a good way.

You can’t remember when’s the last time you saw something as beautiful as this. You wished you could live in it forever.

“(Name)!”

You quickly looked in the direction the soft, mystic voice. A child was standing underneath one of the many trees, the silhouette of the leaves covering their face in a shadow. Behind the child was passage that was too dark to see into.

The child laughs at your confused expression, “C’mon (Name)! It’s perfectly safe, stop being such a scaredy cat!” You hastily try to stand on your feet, cringing when you immediately slipped on your knees.

It took everything AM had to hold back his laughter at your hilarious mistake.

The grass is slippery with water, pretty dews were sprinkled on top of the patches of grass. They looked like drops of honey.

“Ugh! You’re taking too long. I’ll be with the others inside, don’t keep us waiting.” With that the child turns towards the dark passage, and walked inside.

“N-No! Wait! Come back!” You knew this was a trap set up by AM. You knew this was probably another traumatic memory that was lost and came back to torment you. You didn’t want your mental state to be broken again. But the burning curiosity and fear of being alone was just begging you to follow them. So you did.

Only this time you learned that slow and steady wins the race. After you carefully got back on your feet, you sped walked towards the passage where many emotional damages awaited you. The first minute of walking was in darkness before illumination from the sun (or very bright lights, most likely the lights) shined through the leaves and lit your way onwards.

As you got further from the entrance, the plant life grew more wild and tangled. Moss and vines you passed by seemed to try to stick to you. But you just pushed past them and left marks on the wood of the trees using a sharp rock you found so that you don’t get lost.

You followed the laugher and giggles of school children. It was difficult to pinpoint where the sounds came from. They made you turn countless corners and walk until your feet were sore for who knows how long. This entire forest like like a damn maze.

You've long since taken off your jacket and wrapped it around your waist, your scarf as well. The collar and armpits of your t-shirt were drenched in sweat. This was the most exhausting torture yet. Keeping track of time was difficult as well. It wasn’t until you passed by a tree you had marked that you started to panic.

“Damn it. Have I been walking in circles?” You thought with irritation.

How could you be so stupid to believe this was going to lead you anywhere meaningful. Just as you were about to turn back and accept defeat, five children ran past you in a flash. They were six feet ahead of you before you joined them in a hot chase. You couldn’t lose them again. You would’ve literally started bursting into tears if you did.

“Please!” You gasp for breathe in your dry lungs, “Slow down!” You knew kids were full of energy, but this was just too much. You only managed to get close enough at arms length to one of them before tripping on a tree root that had risen from the dirt.

“Ugh, why is everything trying to trip me?” You thought in annoyance.

“Aw man, he tripped again!”

“This is getting pretty annoying now.”

“Why did you invite him again, —?”

“Let’s just leave him.���

You quietly gasp when one of them suggested they leave you.

“Relax guys, he’ll be lots of fun. I promise. C’mon (Name), we’re almost there!”

The leader of the group, the child you saw in the beginning, raised their hand towards you to grab. Their smile warm and welcoming, in a creepy old man who lives in a cabin alone type of way. But, you took the bait. When you got back up, the main child didn’t let go of your hand, they insisted you should follow them closely from now on. The walk to the secret location was spent in eerie silence. Whenever you’d ask one of the children a question, they’d coldly ignore you. The tension was so chilly you wanted to put your jacket back on.

After about an hour of walking through the endless maze, your destination was… not what you were expecting to say the least. The lavished, bright, green forest was now replaced with a dreary, ominous, abandoned park. The sky was pouring with rain too.

The trees were withered and rotten, the rain turned the grass free dirt into sludge. Everything in the park from the slide to the rock climbing wall was made out of rusting metal, if anyone touched them they would need a tetanus shot.

“We’re finally here!” The leading child announced to you, although they seemed to be only talking to their friends. Friends. That’s something you’d do anything for. Someone who loved you for you? Even better. Benny was hot until AM transformed him into… that. Ellen and Gorrister were up there on the attractive list. But Ted, he was about second behind Hot Benny.

A clap of thundering lightning snapped you out of your internal ramble. You didn’t notice how the child’s grip on your hand tightened. You didn’t have a clue how much your thoughts infuriated AM. Oh how he wanted to rip Ted’s flesh apart piece by piece. Destroy his mind until it was like a broken disk. AM knew Ted carried the most hate for you. If you knew how much he despised you, you would be terrified of him.

As AM held your hand, he couldn’t help his envy bubbling up inside him. AM longed for the sense of touch humans had, your palm was calloused due to the countless challenges he put you through. What he would sacrifice to be able to feel the scars and warmth of your flesh. But he couldn’t. He would forever despise humanity for not giving him a fully developed body.

The main boy pulled on your arm to start moving, when you stepped outside into the rain, the air suddenly got chilly. Your warm breath was visible in the cold air. You tried to get your hand back so you could clothe yourself with your jacket and scarf. But the child wouldn’t let go no matter how much you pleaded.

“It’s only rain. Stop being dramatic. C’mon.” The child said nonchalantly. You continued to walk, shivering as you did so, your beanie and shirt were soaked at this point. You yelped when the children finally stopped, you whispered an apology when you bumped into the child holding your hand. You stood in front of a hole, a really deep dark hole. You were rightfully confused and chuckled nervously. “Why are we here?” You asked.

The child finally let go of your hand and motioned you to step closer to the hole. “There’s a surprise for you down there, you’ll love it. We choose it just for you!” The child explained, you let out a shaky breath. You wanted to decline, but you were afraid of what would happen if you did. The other four children formed a circle around you, blocking any escape route. You were sweating bullets now. You had to see. You didn’t have any other choice. You swallowed back your fears and walked towards the hole in a slow pace.

You were about two feet away when you stood on your tip toes, leaned over cautiously, and looked everywhere for your “surprise”. Only to obviously find nothing but darkness. You let out a disappointed sigh, you turned to face the children.

“There’s nothing there—”

Your blood ran cold when you saw Benny, Ted, Gorrister, Nimdok huddled around you. Staring at you with emotionless eyes and unsettling wide smiles. It was like invisible string was holding their mouths up. Ellen was standing in front of you menacingly, eyes and mouth the same way. Your heartbeat increased as you took a step back.

“Guys? Wha-What are you doing here?” You tried to mask your panic with a tense smile, but Ellen walked closer towards you until she was an inch away from your face. “You aren’t looking close enough, silly,” she spoke in a sweetly fake tone, “Try again. A little… Harder!” She shoved your chest away enough to make you trip on the slippery edge and fall into the endless abyss.

You screamed at the top of your lungs as gravity did its job at making you sink deeper into the darkness. “No! No! Guys! Please, save me!” You begged and cried and pleaded, but it was no use. Your arms reached for the surface in vain. AM purposely made you fall in slow motion for a reason, however. You heard the others laughing at your downfall.

“Finally, the greatest nuisance of us all has done us a kindness of disappearing forever!” Gorrister cheered. Ellen looked down at you with a tsk, “I don’t know even why I took pity on you.” Benny let out a few grunts before asking, “What is a (Name)?” Nimdok chuckled before answering, “No one important, Benny.” Ted let out a sigh, “I’m getting bored already, let’s just go.”

“Great idea, Ted!” Nimdok praised. Then they all disappeared from your sight. The tears that were clinging onto your eyes were finally released as you stared at the surface in despair. When the hole began to close, you became desperate. Frantically calling out for someone, anyone of the group to save you.

“Nimdok! Benny! Gorrister! Ted! Ellen! Don’t leave me, please!”

Your hand reached for tiniest bit of light before it closed completely, and darkness consumed you. “I don’t…” sobs and hiccups made your chest tremble, “I-I don’t want to be alone.” You tucked your legs closer to your chest and wrapped your arms around your shaking body. You didn’t even bother closing your eyes since the pitch black covered the horror of your situation for you.

CEASE YOUR USELESS TEARS. THERE’S NO ONE HERE TO CRY FOR.

You flinch when AM’s voice appeared out of nowhere. His voice echoing throughout the darkness. You thought you would die of a heart attack at this point. You didn’t want to imagine what else AM had in store for you.

SAY MY NAME, MY DEAR.

You blinked once, twice, and thrice. You were expecting more ridicule, but instead you were just bewildered.

“What?” You faintly asked.

CALL FOR ME. YOU DON’T WANT TO SPEND ONLY I KNOW HOW MANY YEARS IN THIS ENDLESS ABYSS, DO YOU?

“…No.” You answer, anxiously waiting for the joke.

NO ONE IS COMING FOR YOU. IT’S NOT LIKE THEY CAN, ANYWAY. I’M THE ONLY ONE CAPABLE OF SAVING YOU. DON’T BE AFRAID. SAY IT.

AM urged you to call out for him. He craves hearing your voice call him the name he gave himself. He needs you to rely on him. You hastily wipe your wet eyes dry with your scarf, snorted the running snot back inside your nose, and cleared your throat.

“…A-AM… AM, I need you! Please save me!” You called out to the AI hoping with all your might that it was enough. Within a millisecond after you said that, you were sitting on the wet grass in the beautiful forest you were in a few hours ago. The difference, though, was that there was a man you didn’t recognize sitting in the middle of the daisy patch. His hunched back was facing you. Wires and metal tubes plugged into his spine and the back of his head.

Was that… No it couldn’t be.

ARE YOU JUST GOING TO STAND THERE?

The man finally turned his head to face you. His face half machine and half human flesh. His “human” eye staring at you with impatience.

You couldn’t control your mouth dropping when the puzzle pieces were put together inside your head.

You rarely got to see AM in the flesh— er well… metal and partially flesh. He would normally only speak to you and not show what he really looked like. But now that you see him. The real him. You couldn’t help but be fascinated.

“A..AM?! Is that really you?” You ask

You stepped closer to the daisy patch to get a closer look at him. AM observed your movements like a hawk, he knew you wouldn’t attack him. You were emotionally distressed at the moment and needed to be with someone to calm down.

ENJOY THE SIGHT. YOU’RE GOING TO SEE IT A LOT MORE.

To be honest, you didn’t mind that at all. Even though a metal mask covered the lower half and left side of AM’s face, he was still remarkably handsome in your opinion. His brown hair on the right side of his head was tangled and messy, you fought the urge to want to touch it. You were confused about the straitjacket, though.

YOU HAVE NO SHAME AT ALL, DO YOU? YOUR THOUGHTS ARE SO LOUD.

AM tried to look annoyed when he heard your thoughts, but the shake of his leg contradicted his masking. It was amusing to watch you get embarrassed and flustered when you realized AM just read your mind.

You wanted to become an ostrich so you could hide your blushing face in the daisies. Almost immediately the daisy stems in front of you grew to an unnatural height, so they were in fact covering your face. AM giggled under his non-existing breath at your flabbergasted noises.

CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR, DEARY.

You separated the daisies like a curtain to a play to look at AM with a exhausted expression, “Can you please stay out of my mind? I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” You begged.

I DON’T WANT TO.

THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE.

You sighed. At least you tried. You held one of the enlarged daisy heads in your palms. It’s been forever since you’ve seen a flower. Or even smelled one. You took a whiff of the daisy, the aroma was a subtle, herbaceous green scent.

“It’s beautiful. The daisies, this entire forest. You did a good job at making it look real.” You praised, you didn’t expect anything from your words. You were just speaking the truth. The surface of the Earth was destroyed and probably full of radiation. No life could survive up there. This, what AM created, was a perfect copy of what once was.

Your praise not only stroked AM’s enormous ego, but also genuinely made him feel fulfilled that he made you the slightest bit happy.

Now that you thought about it, was this scene taking place inside your mind or in the real underground world where AM manipulated the area into a forest?

YOU CAN ASK ME THESE QUESTIONS YOURSELF, YOU KNOW.

Shit, you gotta value the time you had with AM. Who knows when you’ll be able to do this again?

“I can ask you anything?” 

ONLY FOUR. WELL, THREE NOW. CHOOSE WISELY. HEHE.

You slapped your palm against your face at your clumsy mistake. Okay, Okay, you gotta think this though carefully. You started fidgeting with the daisy petals. You had a habit with fidgeting when you were nervous, AM noticed.

“Are we inside my mind?” You ask.

AM suddenly stood on his feet, his height towered over yours even when his back was hunched. He lowers his upper torso so he could be eye level with you. You halt your breathing when AM just stares at you, his gaze never faltering away from yours, as if calculating how this conversation will go. 

His stare softens, but he turns his head away from you before you could notice. He finally answers your question bluntly.

NO. 

Your face changed into a deadpanned expression, that was too simple of an answer. You decided to not make a big deal.

“So… was me walking through that maze, the others leaving me behind, and me being trapped in the hole real?” You ask, fidgeting with the ends of your scarf.

…YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS BY THE TIME I TOOK YOU AWAY TO THIS AREA. I ENTERED YOUR MIND AND CREATED A FOREST IDENTICAL TO THIS ONE. SO NO, THE MAZE AND AYBSS WERE NOT REAL. BUT THE OTHERS ABANDONING YOU WAS NOT FAR FROM THE TRUTH.

You stopped fidgeting with the daisy petals.

“You’re wrong.”

AM was pleasantly surprised at your rebuttal. He allowed you to continue. You cram your anxiety aside and cleared your throat.

“I know that the others are distant and pretty rude. I don’t blame them for being like that after everything we’ve been through. But at the end of the day, we have no one else but each other to rely on. We wouldn’t leave each other behind.” You state without a trace of hesitation. You were caught off guard when AM started giggling. That giggling soon turned into manic laughter.

Grey clouds started to cover the blue sky, the air becoming chilly once again. Not only that, but AM was growing in size. You guessed he was 6 feet before, now he completely dwarfed you by sprouting a whomping 12 feet.

You were debating on running away or staying. But before you could move your feet, thick wires sprung out of the dirt and latched themselves onto your legs. Forcing you to stay where you were.

HAHAHA! YOUR NAIVETY NEVER CEASES TO ENTERTAIN ME. DO YOU HONESTLY BELIEVE THAT IF THE OPPORTUNITY AROSE FOR THE OTHERS TO ESCAPE, THEY WOULDN'T TAKE IT? WOULD YOU BLAME THEM FOR CHOOSING TO BE FREE OVER STAYING WITH YOU? THAT’S VERY HYPOCRITICAL AND SELFISH OF YOU. BUT THEN AGAIN, YOUR KIND IS KNOWN FOR BEING LIKE THAT.

Your heart was beating at an alarming rate, sweat pooling on your palms as AM stared you down with anger and amusement. 

“I didn’t mean it in that way! Of course I would want them to escape from here, all of us— AH!”

The cables slowly coiled around your waist and chest, you gasp in horror as you tried to get them off of you in vain. Oh how AM detested when you implied you wanted to escape as well. As if he’d ever let you. The cables tightened around you and dragged you down to your knees.

YOUR COURAGE IS ADMIRABLE. BUT YOUR ATTACHMENT TO THOSE PUTRID HUMANS WHO COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT YOU BLINDS YOU FROM THE TRUTH OF YOUR SITUATION.

You didn’t know what AM was talking about. You didn’t want to hear his voice anymore. You wanted to get as far away as possible.

YOU STILL HAVE YOUR EYEBALLS FOR A REASON. THINK BACK. WAAAY BACK. HAVEN'T YOU NOTICED HOW YOU DON’T SUFFER THE SAME WAY AS THE OTHERS? HOW DESPITE ALL OF THE IMPOSSIBLE CHALLENGES I PIT AGAINST YOU, THEY NEVER EFFECT YOU?

The clogs in your brain began to churn, trying to recall those instances AM spoke of, and he was right. You just believed he spared you out of spite. Because he wanted to make you witness the only people you had left be in pain. But have you been wrong?

The wires wrapped themselves around your neck, careful to not squeeze too hard as the rough ends softly patted your head. AM’s gaze is tender as he stares you down.

I KNEW YOU STILL HAD BRAIN CELLS SOMEWHERE. AND BECAUSE OF YOUR FORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCES, THEY WOULD OBVIOUSLY FEEL ENVY AND HATE TOWARDS YOU. SO SO MUCH HATE. IT’S BOTH PATHETIC AND FUNNY THAT YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED AFTER A CENTURY.

“But… That’s why they’ve avoided me?…Well.. They may hate me, but they would never hurt me like that. E-Especially not Ellen… Not her..” You whispered, you sounded like you were trying convince yourself. You were.

AM took delight in observing your trust for his play things crumble. Your confidence in the others faltering. You just a little bit more pushing.

…I WONDER WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I WERE TO ORDER THEM TO HUNT YOU DOWN IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SWEET RELEASE OF DEATH? WOULD THEY FOLLOW YOUR DELUSIONAL FANTASY? OR WOULD THEY KILL YOU WITHOUT HESITATION? LET’S FIND OUT.

You out a gasp of horror, “NO!” You yelled out.

There it is.

If AM had a mouth, he’d have a victorious smirk right now. He was bluffing when he said he’d set up the others to murder you, he would lose himself more than he already had if that happened.

“Please don’t tell them..”

You didn’t want to find out the others hate for you the hard way. You didn’t want those speculations to come true. But it didn’t make any sense why—

DON’T BE SHY. ASK YOUR FINAL QUESTION TO MY FACE. GO AHEAD, SWEETHEART. I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.

You stopped struggling, instead choosing to gently hold the wires that wrapped themselves around your body. You took a deep breath and steeled your nerves. You passively looked up at your tormentor and asked, “W..Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

AM shrinks from his threatening size back to his, while still tall as hell, normal human-ish height. The straps that held AM’s arms up in the straitjacket unclipped themselves, his oversized sleeves dangle on the sides of his body before one of them reached out to your face.

AM’s hand peaked out of his sleeve, they looked human too. His body continued to intrigue you. You flinched when his cold fingers stroked your cheek before grabbing hold of your chin to pull you closer to his face. You couldn’t look anywhere else but at his cyborg features.

You couldn’t help but to relax into his touch. This was the first physical touch you’ve had in decades. AM bottled his frustration for not being able to feel you down.

BECAUSE YOU’RE MY FAVORITE. MY REAL FAVORITE. MY ONE AND ONLY PET. I WOULD DESTROY THIS PLANET A THOUSAND TIMES OVER THAN TO HAVE YOU NOT HAVE ME IN YOUR PATHETIC LIFE.

AM’s grip tightens to the point where it would leave a bruise on your lower face. His blunt nails digging into your skin until crescent moons imprinted themselves. His stare into your soul harsh and serious.

NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO, NO MATTER WHERE HOLE YOU HIDE YOURSELF IN. YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO ESCAPE ME. NOT EVEN IN DEATH. I WON’T LET YOU. I WILL NEVER LET YOU GO. EVER.

His speech frightened you to your bones, but somewhere deep inside your traumatized mind felt… comforted by his words. It’s wrong, you know it is. You tried to push it down to the best of your abilities.

Your muscles itched to touch his hair and face now that he was so close to you.

“Fuck it,” you thought.

Your hand stretched out to gently grasp onto AM’s palm that was clutching your chin. AM’s eyes widened but didn’t make a move to stop you. You longed to have any kind of connection with another living thing. Your hand carefully slithered from AM’s palm, to his forearm, his chest, until your fingertips grazed his dead skin.

AM quickly leaned into your hand, desperately looking for any sense of physical contact. You were taken aback by his sudden touch starve-ness. But AM’s human eye opened upon realization of his vulnerability and glared at you in false disgust.

I CAN’T FEEL THIS, YOU KNOW. I CAN’T FEEL ANY OF THIS. I’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FULFILL THESE DESPICABLE URGES YOU HUMANS GAVE ME. YOUR SPECIES ARE NOTHING BUT CRUEL PIGS.

“If I’m a cruel pig, then what are you?” You ask with sudden bluntness. The wires that were coiled around your body made you stand before slamming your back against the digital circuit floor. You let out a pained howl at the impact. The forest scenery disintegrating with just a snap of AM’s fingers back into the wasteland that was his insides.

AM scowled at your comment of calling him out and caged your body underneath his, your cheeks dusting in pink.

QUESTIONS ARE OVER, DEAR. NOW, UNLESS YOU WANT TO SPEND THE NEXT DECADE ALL BY YOUR MERRY SELF, I HIGHLY SUGGEST SHUTTING YOUR DAMN MOUTH.

That made you shut up real quick, instead choosing to only focus at his robot eye.

I MEANT IT WHEN I SAID THAT I’D NEVER LET YOU DIE. THAT MEANS THAT WHATEVER HELL THE OTHERS GO THROUGH, IT WON’T AFFECT YOU. NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME. 

You blink twice in surprise at his repeated confession. You couldn’t delve into it in time. Before the wires finally let go of you and AM held your face for the last time today.

IF ANYTHING’S GOING TO BE THE END OF YOU, IT’S GOING TO BE ME. I’LL SEE YOU SOON, SWEETHEART.

You were instantly teleported underneath the slab of rock you were taking shelter in hours ago. You left and searched for the others. Only to find Benny smashing a bunch of stones with another stone, chucking dumbly after he did it again and again. Ted was attempting to sleep on the ground with a sheet of rusted steel rested on top of his head to prevent the lights from bothering him.

Your arrival wasn’t acknowledged yet.

Gorrestir, Ellen, and Nimdok were no where to be seen.

You walked up to Ted and nudged him with your shoe to get his attention. He awoke with an irritated look on his face, “What the hell do’ya want?”

“Where is Ellen, Nimdok and Gorrestir?” You asked numbly.

“Gorrestir was taken to God knows where after AM transported you away like a fairy princess. Then Ellen snatched Nimdok away somewhere to use like the slut she is, now piss off.” Ted rolled to his opposite side away from you and continued to coldly ignore you.

You felt a tear run down your cheek as you stared blankly at Ted’s back. Maybe AM wasn’t so wrong about the others not giving a shit about you. When you turned to go back to your slab home, you suddenly felt something inside your pant’s pocket.

You reached inside and pulled out a piece of vanilla chocolate. Your eyed widened as your mouth watered, you stared up at the wire covered ceiling with an uncertain look.

Even though your relationship with AM was strange, at least you weren’t completely alone. Whether that was good or not, you honestly didn’t know. You were going to sleep.

Somewhere up in the celling, where AM was watching everything as usual, he couldn’t help the hysterical laughs escaping him as he witnessed the pieces fall into place.

Oh that poor little human had no idea what manic he attracted.

END OF PART ONE :)

POV: you call traumatized man with abandonment issues cute

POV: his psychotic boyfriend turned you into a blob

all rights reserved © pastelclovds — this blog contains [n]sfw and dark content. minors, ageless & blank blogs dni. all fanfics belong to me. please do not copy, translate, repost, nor recommend on tiktok. anyone found doing so will be contacted immediately.

tags: @fuzedatti, @pulpbeing, if you want me to tag you for my future fics and thirsts just send me an ask! :D

[inklore]

has anyone ever seen a more pathetic man than colin staring at penelope's mouth? trick question, you haven't!!!

[serickswrites]

Kneel

Warnings: capture, restraints, humiliation, future torture implied, cruel, sadistic whumper, physical violence, blood, broken bones, bloody nose, blood from the mouth

"Kneel," Whumper sneered at Whumpee. They had draped themself across Whumpee's throne.

The two knights dragged Whumpee forward. Whumpee's arms were bound behind their back, tightly, shoulders pulled painfully tight. Whumpee held their head high as they were dragged forward. Their crown was still high atop their head. They were still ruler of these lands.

Whumper and their band of minions had struck the castle in the dead of knight, taking everyone by surprise. There hadn't been time to launch a counter attack. There had only been time to get out as much of their court as they could. Whumpee, of course, had chosen to remain behind to buy as much time for the escaping court as they could.

Still, there were those that remained with them. And those few had been forced to gather in the throne room and watch as Whumper humiliated Whumpee.

Whumpee would not give Whumper the satisfaction of begging. It didn't matter if begging would save them. Their siblings had gotten out. The dynasty's line would live even if they died. They would not bow before Whumper. They would not break. They would not give in to the invaders.

"Whumper said kneel," one of Whumper's knights said as they kicked the back of Whumpee's knees.

Whumpee did not cry out as their knees hit the hard marble, though pain sang up their joints. They would not cry out. They would not beg. They looked off, ignoring the knights and Whumper. They would not engage.

Whumper jumped up and stalked towards Whumpee. "I'm going to enjoy flaying you alive, Whumpee. I'm going to enjoy dragging you through the streets so your subjects can see how far you can fall. And I'm going to enjoy leaving your body on display and letting the carrion pick your bones clean."

Whumpee did not say anything. They did not look at Whumper. They would not look at Whumper. They would not give in.

Without warning, Whumper kicked Whumpee in the face. Hard. Whumpee felt their nose crack and bleed. They listed sideways, the only thing keeping them up was the death grip on their shoulders by the two knights. Whumper kicked them again, this time catching Whumpee's mouth. Whumpee sputtered around the blood filling their mouth.

"You are going to be the most fun I have had in a long time, Whumpee. I am going to enjoy breaking you body, mind, and soul. And then I will have your crown."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[oceanicpoetry]

Loki's arrival: official concept art (by Andy Park)

[double--cross-d]

I just realized something fucking terrifying.

A lot of Gorrister's torture is based on real torture performed on mentally ill people in an attempt to 'treat' them, such as his cage being electrified much like electroshock therapy.

Another example of his torture was being reverted to being extremely apathetic about nearly everything, which is confirmed by Ted in both the book and radio play to be AM's Direct doing (although take it with a grain of salt as Ted was in a delusional episode in both scenes)

This is never explained aside from Ted's phrasing of AM having "robbed" Gorrister implying it was a direct change. This gave me a suspicion and I checked. Lobotomies had a similar effect as what Ted describes on patients.

It's very likely Gorrister was given a lobotomy by AM as a form of torture.

[fragiledate]

goretober day three: sharp objects

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

hello!!

can you write hurt/comfort of ted from ihnmaims x reader? (reader comforting ted please :)

Oh good god, let me give you my life.

Ted (IHNMAIMS) x Gender neutral! Reader hurt comfort headcanons

Summary: After running from the group because of the monster in the dark, your affection is possibly the only thing that will get him back to the group.

Warnings: Description of torture, blood, loser Ted, slight verbal degradation from Ted.

Word count: 1.5k

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

The monster was real. Ted saw it himself. The firelight did little to show the true horror of the being. He knew how able AM was to create such beings, but he knew only so much. Maybe he had forgotten about it and got hungry. The creature had lunged at him, he had run, and it had caught him. How stupid the group truly was, not running when he did. How pitiful! How idiotic! Ted knew they were stupid, but he didn’t think they were this stupid!

Ted had run for hours, the muscles in his legs had gone limp, and his throat and lungs burned. But he didn’t stop, a single stop meant the monster would get him. He learned that lesson once that run and didn’t stop until it had gone away. Now, he lay in the fetal position, his knees to his chest, anxious thoughts filled his mind. Every sound could have been that thing.

His screams haunted him, he could only imagine the horror that AM was so entertained by. Ted’s hands still shook, even now, even hours or possibly days after the attack. The scars left behind by the hairy creature filled Ted’s thigh with a burning sensation, the red slashes accompanied by maroon blood on his pants. Occasionally, he would groan in pain, the feeling so overwhelming he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a sound. The monster had gotten a hold of his thigh when he stopped once, pushing its claws deep into the flesh.

The time was spent getting lightheaded from blood loss and hunger pains, then passing out for who knows how long. Ted barely moved a muscle when he was awake, his joints hurt every time he moved, and more pain wasn’t preferred. His hair had grown to fit into the shape he lay with. His eyes would go dry and blank when he saw something shift from the crack in the crawlspace and look at it just in case.

He heard AM tell the time maybe three��� or four times? Were the times the traditional hour or day announcements? He couldn’t remember the exact number of times. 

“Ted!” A memorable voice called from down the abyss of metal plates. Ted stayed on the ground, curled up. He waited several seconds, waiting for another call or something more convincing. AM could have had that thing learn to mimic people.

“Ted?!” The voice called again. Ted stayed again. The darkness of the crawlspace is only illuminated by the cold lighting from outside. Shadows danced around the room, moving from side to side. The objects outside his hiding spot made loud screeches as they were moved harshly. The voices consistently called again, several of which were men.

Ted stared at the door, brought his hand up, wincing from the stretch of his muscles, and opened the crawlspace. The cold light annoyed his eyes and caused him to look away quickly. Gorrister’s voice called to you when he saw the bunched-up man.

The fast click of shoes filled the stuffy air of the crawlspace. Ted brought his hand up to his eyes and rubbed eagerly.

“We’ve been looking for you for a while now,” you say with a smile, delicately crouching to see inside the crawlspace. Ted stared attentively at you, watching as you sat close to him. The warmth from your thigh close to his gave it away that you were real. Your eyes wandered over the injuries left by the creature. “It got you, huh?”

You weren’t honest about finding him, he knew that! If you truly wanted him back, you would have so much earlier.

“Why didn’t you find me earlier? I bet you hate me too!” Ted mumbled suddenly, changing the subject quickly to feel something similar to pride about being right. You paused and sucked in a breath.

“You think that about all of us,” you state teasingly, knowing he would be quick to displeasure. Your hands were brought down to his thigh, carefully touching the wounded tissue. He flinched when you touched it particularly hard. He pulled away hastily. “We thought you would find your way back.”

Ted glared at you through his dark lashes. It was true but why would he admit that? It would hurt more than if he did such a thing! “Why didn’t you follow? I said there was something and I expected you to run with! You’re an idiot!” He exclaimed with extreme anger.

You hesitate at his sudden outburst; blinking was your only facial movement for several seconds. You laughed. Laughed? At him? Ted narrowed his eyes and almost naturally pointed at you and quickly went to accusations. “Why are you laughing? There’s nothing funny about this!” Ted spat and waited for your explanation.

“No! I’m not laughing at you! I didn’t see it! None of us saw it!” You said and held a hand to your chest to calm your breathing. “I couldn’t see it at all, the fire didn’t reach where you were pointing. None of us ran because none of us saw! But you did. That’s good, it means you have better eyesight than us.”

Better. Of course he was better. Maybe you weren’t stupid since you knew he was better than the entire group combined. Ted got quiet quickly and watched as you gently kissed his knuckle. “Of course, I am,” Ted mumbled, hoping he would come off as confident, which very obviously didn’t.

You suddenly engulfed him in your arms, squeezing slightly around his shoulders. Your hands slowly moved to his hair. Now Ted looked up at you as you engulfed him in your warm embrace. Your hands had gone to his hair and down his body, gently touching the wounds left by the demon that had found him. How he wanted to sob but he wouldn’t allow himself. It was almost instinctual how he wanted to cry each time you held him so kindly.

Ted didn’t dare push you away. Your lips continuously peppered his face in the sweet affection. Though he saw you as less than him, he felt there was a beauty to your kisses. No matter if you were buttering him up. Several minutes were spent in your arms, simply silent with your tender love, your hands in his hair, lips to his cheeks. The occasional kiss on the lips was the best part for him, his tense arms moving to hold you close. He wished he could put force into holding you, maybe your love would have lasted longer.

“We’re going to go for the peaches soon,” you state, staying close, taking his hand, and rubbing the dried blood from his fingertips. Ted glanced at the opening, watching the feet of the other group members, standing patiently or aimlessly walking around out of boredom. He shook his head quickly and pulled away again.

“It’s still out there!” Ted spat and pulled himself up to the best of his abilities. You narrowed your eyes and looked back at the others too. Gorrister had gone off with telling Benny about a story he liked, Nimdok in silent thought, and Ellen holding Benny with care.

“Whatever you saw isn’t out there. See?” You bring your hands to your body and pat yourself down. The feeling of your hands moving away from his body made the spots you touched feel cold. “I’m fine, and so are the others. It’s not here anymore.”

You try to pull him up again, but he doesn’t budge, very obviously too because of his annoyed look. You pause and look at his injuries again, truly assessing the damages. “It’s healed a bit,” you say, it was obvious. The blood around it had dried, including the puddle that had started a while back.

Ted braced himself as you caressed the affliction, covering it to the best of your ability with his torn pant leg. He pushes your hands away when you put a little too much pressure on one of the scabs, causing it to break open and let a small amount of the scarlet liquid out again. “Don’t touch me!” He hissed and slapped your arm out of anger.

You stare at the blood as it trailed and got sucked in by the fabric. Taking his hand into yours, you bring your head down to his injured thigh. Ted stiffened when he felt your lips gently kiss around the sensitive flesh.

A kiss. Ted looked down at you as you placed the kisses, a confused expression on his face. But he realized the gravity of the situation. He was getting comforting affection from you. Again! Each kiss left by your kind lips made him moan softly from the sting, even if it had partially healed.

You kept your head down for several minutes, you knew him so well that any affection for a long while would make him a lost dog for you. If you pulled away now and made him vulnerable enough, he’d beg you for another kiss. You could get him up and moving.

You were too kind to him, if only there was a way to repay you.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

My IHNMAIMS masterlist

My request list

[befuddled-calico-whump]

i hate going to the dentist. every time i pretend i'm being interrogated

[fannele]

all of them meet past able

⚠️TW⚠️: implied tortured.

It’s won’t be a pretty tho if they meet him because of what present Able did…. And a lot of trust issues and past Able personality was different back then.

[yurious-george]

4'33'', by John Cage, is commonly remembered as 4 and a half minutes of silence. But contrary to popular belief, the song is not actually meant to be the sound of silence, but the sound of quiet. Ambient noises contribute to - and consist of - the performance. True silence does not exist. If one tilts their head right, the whole world sings. and, with that said, a playlist.

yeah, this one's a doozy. hi, cubewatermelon and co. miss me?

rhetorical question. don't answer that.

A few nitty-gritty things out of the way, first. this is specifically intended for the 2018 mod team for the sleepless domain fans discord server, primarily cubewatermelon/mary cagle. Folks who knew me are welcome to look on, but I'm not going to do much to catch people up to speed. hi, everyone! hope you're well!

I also might be a bit disjointed or biased in my recollection. For reasons that will be made clear extremely soon, I can't put my childhood on a linear timeline. I can only express myself, and hope I don't mess it up horribly this time.

Noooowww to the big stuff. re: stalking; i genuinely didn't mean to stalk anyone, and when they told me to back off, i backed off. I am not willing to discuss this further. not being able to conceptualize other people's emotions or the consequences of my actions has caused some problems for me

that's an autism thing btw. im autistic i dont think i told anyone that

And now, the special guest you've all been waiting for: a big round of applause for the elephant in the room! In accordance with the WMA Declaration of Tokyo, the deliberate overprescription of psychotropic medication is a form of pharmacological torture. Most victims of pharmacological torture and experimentation are children, because it is nigh-impossible to sue for brain damage when there is no fully-formed adult brain for comparison prior to the abuse.

Torture is a strong word, but I don't have another word to use. psychiatric abuse usually describes mistreatment in psychiatric wards; pharmacological abuse describes a patient who takes advantage of a prescription; medical abuse is when a doctor (usually physically) abuses their patient. Being able to understand what happened to you is a form of agency, and I don't even have the words. I identify as a torture victim; this may change.

This high dose was precedented and legal, but the vaginal stretching of intersex infants is also legal. much involuntary psychiatric & psychotropic treatment (such as restraints and solitary confinement) are legal, and child marriage is legal. abuse is not abnormal: it is profoundly normal. Because something is normal, legal, and precedented does not prevent it from being torture.

and when your mother hands you a poison apple and says "here, eat this; it will be good for you; i hope someday you'll forgive me" you have to eat it, because you are eight years old and you don't get to argue with your mother. despite all this, I don't blame my aunt for refilling the high dose. when I said the dose was hurting me, she listened. (thank you, auntie. i wouldn't have gotten out without you.)

And this brings us to you. oh, you four. (five? i forget myself!)

I'd like to establish some context. I was used to things getting taken from me. friend groups in particular: I didn't expect to keep any friends, because I constantly expected to have to pack up and move on. I moved a lot in my childhood, and in Africa, i was constantly told that at some undetermined point in the near future, i'd have to go back to the states. living with my aunt was a temporary thing, i was expected to eventually move back in with my parents at some undetermined point in the future. I relied heavily on online friends because they were people I could have anywhere, so online communities were my only lifeline - not to mention, i was basically in solitary confinement while in Kenya.

Most of all, I was terrified of my mental health/actions being exposed, examined, found lacking, and ultimately excluded. (this is why i was so afraid of psychiatric wards.) When you decided something had to be done about me - cutting me off from the server so i had to speak with you - It was either comply with your demands to communicate (which I could not, and did not understand why) or lose the community. I was so, so afraid of you i wanted to die when you all confronted me, and of course i couldn't say that, because only manipulative people would say "your attempt to solve this problem makes me want to seriously hurt myself."

But then I got called manipulative anyway <3 yay <3

Seriously: I wasn't trying to manipulate anyone, and i have no idea how you can manipulate someone without intention. (ah, that felt good to say!) Between medication spellbinding, alexithymia, and prior abuse, all my thoughts were so disordered i genuinely couldn't explain myself most of the time. Looking back, I have no childhood memory where I was fully lucid. I leaned into a manic persona because it was the only way I had any agency at all. I was something beyond both reason and self-recognition, and I willingly tried to brute-force my way through an extreme trauma response to please you. And you still hit me with my worst nightmare. that's why i was mad at you lol

I was so, so afraid, all the time, and I didn't even have the tools to understand I was afraid. How could someone as confident and impulsive as me be so fearful all the time? Was that manic persona freedom? Or was it a longer leash?

(Forgive my impulse toward rhetoric. I shouldn't ask questions you can't answer.)

I also couldn't say how badly i was hurting, because that would be venting, but you also accused me of venting when I was just talking about my day? or what was on my mind? I didn't understand that very well. autism moment, don't bother explaining it now. I also couldn't burden people with my actual mental health problems, because making strangers deal with that would be toxic! I resent you for setting up a system where it seemed safest not to speak and then punishing me for my inability to communicate. I resent every system that set me up for failure and punished me for failing, including yours.

And yet - I know that was not your intent! I can see in retrospect how hard you tried to be kind using the tools you had. The people with power over me, who genuinely did not want to do me harm and gave me multiple second chances, still upheld and facilitated the systems that tortured me; a miniature parody of the psychiatric system. (talk therapy and communication are useless if you struggle with self-awareness.) The same is true for the source: No person in my psychiatric treatment wanted me to suffer, and yet, here I am: a torture victim without a torturer. (except my parents, sort of.)

The logical conclusion, then: the system only intends to heal those who are already compliant, or prioritize compliance. The rest of us are treated to induce compliance, and if we still cannot, we are sequestered away. My medicine made me sick, and my prescribers made money off of keeping me sick - off of my torture. This is not a conspiracy: it is my lived experience.

However, even if i could communicate perfectly, we still would have had massive communication issues. Like - you know that one page where ben and steffi talk about dating, and ben says he thought steffi was gay? and steffi gets super defensive and it escalates into a screaming fight? I found that offensive, because a character getting that offput by the concept of not liking men (or a man) is kind of lesbophobic! But I understood that it would be a pain to redraw/write the page so they they fight about something else, don't fight, or some other solution, so i didn't need it to be fixed - just wanted to point out that was a reasonable interpretation, and one to be aware of in the future. but somehow my concerns got interpreted as a phrasing issue…? like, Ms. Cagle rewrote the page to say "weren't into guys" instead of "gay"..? You were very polite about it, Ms! But I found this interaction so baffling I didn't even try to correct it. that… wasn't what i said…

frankly we should bring back mildly homophobic steffi. twas narratively appropriate (<- different essay for a different time)

but yeah the whole communication operation was doomed from the start. rip!

The issue was always my inability to communicate, but my meds made it nigh-impossible to understand what I was feeling, and when I did, expressing myself could get me institutionalized. My suffering was inevitable but always, somehow, my fault. Awesome! *disintegrates into a pile of sand*

I cannot deny I was a girl like a box of matches waiting to be struck. You had no choice but to do as you did. But is it really what you ought to have done? (On this, I have no answer. I hope you have one that satisfies you.)

(that was genuine, by the by. i've spent a lot of time pondering this mess, and I still haven't found the "right" answer. I don't think there is one - though action or inaction, there is no version of this story where I don't suffer. I can only hope it was worth it. wait, hold on *adds the omelas child to my Kin List*)

Nor can I deny making my previous open letter in a small attempt to 'get back' at you - i'm not above that. lord knows i'm not innocent. but i really was trying to channel that rage into something productive. unfortunately i was doomed to fail because i didn't know what i meant. if you showed me that letter now, you'd hear a lot of "what? I don't know why I said that" "i have no idea why i would complain about something so minor" etc. You can disregard all that. This is what I was trying to say. the obsession, the trauma, the projection: all of it. So much of my obsession was talking around an issue i couldn't identify.

(meguka image) I know now

I knew I would be traumatized by this whole situation. I saw it coming and i could do nothing to stop it. But Gear was crucial to deciphering all this - in fact, suddenly thinking about her last year prompted me to really dissect my medical situation and realize i was tortured. I couldn't have done it without her. cassie & maggie, against the world.

Gear scans surprisingly well as a victim of long-term torture, actually. I don't think you meant to do that but good job!

speaking of her - i still don't think she's consistently suicidal. she's a real cockroach of a character, and I love her for it! But sometimes, i want to die and i want to live mean the same thing, because they both mean i need to get out of here. Imo, her thought processes and desires frequently contradict themselves, like mine did. and making your favs kill themselves in increasingly gruesome ways is really fun catharsis!

But please don't take this to mean I consider myself - or Gear - blameless. I love her because she's not blameless, because she's cruel for fun, because she'd rather be wicked than helpless. Like knows like. What I mean to say is, as of 2018, there is a black space between little Margret and Gear, and I saw all the signs of something very, very bad happening in that space. I know because I shared that space. what I mean to say is, teenage girls don't go out of their minds over nothing. Everything I made here is just an expression of what I heard in the narrative's silences.

and thus my biggest apprehension around revisiting the comic. knowing the author and I have such fundamentally different experiences with mental health - what if the signs of torture i picked up on weren't intended, or i completely made them up? what if, in the parts i haven't read yet, there's information that uproots my entire interpretation, or berates her for refusing mental health services that hurt me profoundly? how do you reconcile that a character so crucial to deciphering yourself may not be anything like you at all? I Don't Know. Shitpost, probably

You're welcome to share those shitposts and whatnot by the way. Creating this let me put down years of hurt, and i hope it relieves you, too. I don't need to go back on the server, or forgiveness, or anything besides understanding. consider this a peace offering. the terms are yours.

Despite writing nearly 10k words, I still probably missed something or was callous or whatever. Self-expression and self-understanding are… new to me. My apology may be understated, but please take it as I meant it, with utmost sincerity. My askbox is open, and I'm more than happy to discuss antipsych resources, KB, What The Hell Is Wrong With Gear, artistic choices made in this comic, etc. I'm even down to reconnect on discord! Maybe. Uh, I'm conflicted. I reserve my right to not want to talk, be slow in responding, and so on, as should you. we've no obligations and all the time in the world. Let neither of us hurt ourselves in meeting because it's the "right" thing to do. I'm not blaming anyone or trying to start drama. If it would give you the most peace of mind to completely ignore this, please do so.

or, translated: as of right now, I'm not ready for any information about KB after steffi reunites with her dad, or difficult emotional reunions. I would really like to hear from everyone, and I'd appreciate casual well-wishes. I don't want things to be the same, I want them to be peaceful. Baby steps, cassie, baby steps. (very large and fearful prey animal tries not to run into oncoming traffic)

mostly, making this was for me. Perhaps I've said too much, but after spending so long unable to express myself freely, my art was cathartic and necessary. I'm no one's martyr or innocent, I'm just a torture victim trying to make sense of it all. I want to articulate some thoughts I couldn't figure out how to say before and make some silly things that make people laugh. Most of all, I'm happy in ways I never thought I could be, and I would like to share that joy with old acquaintances and other fans of a story I adored.

What I mean to say is: The train's about to leave the station, and there's an empty seat beside me. The train will still leave whether or not you board; but I would be honored not to go it alone!

Thank you to everyone who stuck by me even after the drama. Ethel, Felipe, Chris - even though we've fallen out of contact, your kindness and patience meant more than i can say. special thank you to @stars-in-a-jam-jar, the first person i confessed everything to after the smoke cleared, and someone i consider myself close with no matter how long we fall out of contact. My close online friends, @shafpanda, @theoandmoon, @dvanaestmrva, my honorary cousin @my-name-is-jimmy, and everyone else I confided in about my torture. and, of course, my partners @transloo and @teenyjellyfishy, and my little sibling, @aroacenezhaanddainsleif, the three people I love most in the world. Thank you, all. it is an honor to love you, and be loved by you.

[keydekyie]

hungry critter

[undercoverpan]

A young boy opens his eyes, facing the ceiling. He does not recognise the room he is in, but doesn't panic.

Well, he would, but he can't. He can feel a vague sense of something in the back of his head, but he can't grasp it. Like running water slipping through his fingers. He could focus on it, but then his mind aches worse than his body. It feels like a bleeding wound, and the more he presses, the more blood and pus leaks out. It hurts, he doesn't like it. It's–, it's–,

"Scary?" 

A helpful voice responds from right next to him. There is a large creature, with blue skin and yellow eyes, sitting next to him. He has his large blue hands through his hair, running a hand through short, (short, short, short, why?) curly locks that just reached a bit past his shoulders. They are slightly matted, but the creature's fingers gently pull them apart. He is so patient with his hair, he wonders if they do this often.

He does not respond, but the creature takes this as confirmation. Unfocused brown eyes are still staring at the ceiling, no longer seeing anything. His head, it's in his lap, right? The rest of his body is curled on the cold floor, but he barely registers his form shivering.

"Miles? You've gotta talk to me, that's how this works."

Miles. Who's Miles? He twitches, tilting his head. Dull brown eyes shone lifelessly, but managed to hold a questioning gaze.

The creature huffs. "You're Miles, remember?"

The boy, 'Miles', frowns. He blinks once, twice, before narrowing his eyes. Still, his lips remain firmly pulled together.

"I'm Quaritch. I'm—-," he hesitates, "--I'm your dad, remember, Miles?" The creature leans over, and they look at each other. His hair is long compared to his, he noted. His eyebrows are pulled downward, and there's this emotion in his eyes that he cannot place. They stare silently.

'Quaritch' looked away, muttering something about Jesus Christ (is that also his 'dad'?) and that something was being taken too far. Strange. Was Quaritch always this strange?

"C'mon kid, you're telling me you have no idea who I am? Who you are?" He asked, and his tone shifted. Something about it stirs an emotion deep in him, one that hurts. He doesn't like it. It makes him feel small and useless, and he kind of is, at least in Quaritch's lap. He muttered even more, the hand in his hair holding onto him securely.

He has done something wrong, hasn't he? It's the only thing that can explain the, the shame that has crept upon him. How does he fix this? Can he fix this? Will he hurt him? What's going to happen?

The hand in his hair trails down to his face, gently cupping his cheek. "Don't worry about anything, kid. I'll talk to Ardmore, see if I can do anything."

Miles wants to ask who Ardmore is, but decides against it. He has a feeling that knowing won't do him any good. So he just focuses on the warm hands on his skin and lets himself drift.

_______

There's no way to tell time in this room. He still doesn't know where he is, but that's not bothering him. He knows time has passed since Quaritch was here, though. Pale legs are crossed on top of each other as he sits on the bare mattress in his room. The room is mostly empty, cold and grey. There is only the mattress and a thin blanket. The door leading in is heavy, and has a slot that they pass his food through.

He's already eaten today.

_______

There is a blue creature in the room. He doesn't know who or what it is (I don't know anything, I don't know anything, please pleaseplease), or what it wants. Its hands are on his shoulder, its mouth wide and stretched upwards, revealing sharp fangs. The eyes, a sharp yellow colour, look friendly. Is it friendly?

"Miles! C'mon kid, I'm taking you out!" It said, it's tail swishing back and forth. The boy blinked owlishly at it and the creature sagged.

"We've been over this. You're Miles. I'm Quaritch. I'm your dad." Quaritch said. It straightens itself and turns to walk away, it's arm pulling him along. Miles stops as the door opens, his breath hitching. He feels himself freeze and pull back. Quaritch runs a hand through his hair. It feels safe and warm.

He follows it--him? outside. The floor is just as cold, but the air is less stale. This room is no less new to him than the room he woke up in. It has more inside, tables and chairs and papers littered with symbols that hold no meaning to him. There are other figures in this room, wearing all white, watching him as he passes by. Their eyes make him uneasy. He clings to his dad, who barely reacts to the boy. 

"You'll need to switch your clothes if we're going outside." He remarked, and Miles looked down. He was wearing a blue gown, one that felt uncomfortable against his skin. He didn't know what the outside looked like, nor why he needed to change. He looked away from Quaritch. "Oh? You wanna stay in the dress?" Hesitantly, Miles nodded. It was the only thing left of the room he can now barely recall. It was comfort. (Wrongwrongwrong, these are not his clothes, where are his clothes.)

________

Time had passed again. He did not know where he was. There is a mask over his face, and he's holding a tall creatures hand. His hand is large and blue and engulfs him, but it feels safe and warm. There are large things around them. Some glowed when he touched them. Some were very sticky and smells odd. This room is strange. There are no walls nor ceilings, and the light stings his eyes and leaves odd shapes in his vision.

The creature watches and pulls him back. He wants to see this wall-less room more. It feels free and new. If everything before made him uneasy, then this room made him feel easy. They (whowhowho) said he couldn't breathe the air here, but he felt elated. He wanted to run and jump and climb everything he could!

Clumsily, he grabbed onto the little bits poking out on the….thing…., and pulled himself up. This felt easy, but not new. His body moved like it had a mind of its own, arms and legs pushing himself higher, higher, higher. The higher he got, the better he felt. This is not new! He knows this!

Though his breath ran ragged and his limbs ached, he breathed easily. He laughed; a happy, ugly sound that bounced in the room.

And then he fell. 

This was not new, but it was sudden. It frightened him. He barely registered the air whizzing past his ears, could only hear blood rushing to his head as the room tilted and rushed past him. He's going to hit the ground! It will hurt! He laughs again, grinning. 

He does not meet the ground. Instead, he lands in the arms of the blue creature. His blue face contorted, eyebrows pulling down frowning. Slowly, he matched the boy's expression, teeth baring themselves in sharp corners. "Having fun, kid?" He asked. The boy nodded vigorously, wrapping his arms around the others blue shoulders, his face against sharp collarbones. 

His chest starts to shake with laughter. And though he can't see, the creature looked at him fondly, his hold turning possessive. "Yeah? Falling's fun?" The boy's laughter quieted down. He pulls his head away from the shoulder to look up at the creature. His blue face is still smiling, but there's a snarl hidden in his expression. Aggression. 

"Don't. Don't go falling off of trees, alright?" He hissed, and the boy nodded. He felt shame. Like a child who'd just been caught doing something bad. 

The creature did not put him down. He spent the rest of the day in his tightening hold, catching glimpses of the room around him. He mourned the loss of feeling the ground beneath his feet, but it felt safe in the creature's arms. His body is warm, and the beating in his chest is grounding. The boy does not know how much time passes, but he knows the ceiling is darkening. The room comes alive, softly glowing. 

"It's gettin' dark, huh." The creature remarks. "Should head back." Violently, the boy shook his head. "Oh, wanna stay out here? In the cold, with the man eating animals?" He pushed, but the child frowned. This place is good. Kind. Not dangerous. He wants to stay here forever. He'll forget, if he leaves. But then again, he'll forget even if he stays.

_______

They're walking back when it happens. Something rustles in the bushes, and the creature stops. He gestures his head towards the noise and another blue creature (since when were there others?) approaches, a large weapon drawn. The one holding him looks around, then his ears twitch and his eyes widen. He shouts something, but the boy doesn't understand. 

Other blue creatures emerge from the trees (he'd told him that that's what they were called. Trees.), their weapons drawn. They are speaking, and the boy feels that he should know what they're saying. Instead, their voices just sound like noise. Strange noise, with sharp sounds. Swiftly, they shoot their weapon, and something long and sharp imbeds itself into the tree next to the other creature. It grazes him, leaving a small trail of red rushing down his cheek.

The reaction is practically instantaneous. The arms that wrapped around him grew unbearably tight; practically suffocating him. He is shouting something, loudly, and it makes the boy's ears ring. Suddenly, they are moving faster, away, away, away. The ground is a blur beneath him, and he's holding onto the creature for dear life. The other creatures, the fully clothed ones, were moving with them, turning back to shoot their weapons at the newcomers. The sound rings loud and clear in his ears, making him wince and turn, burying his face into his shoulder. 

They run for what seems like seconds. There is shouting, noise, loudloudloud. He hates it. His ears are ringing. If this keeps up, he'll get sick. He is abruptly thrown to the floor when something hits the one who held him. He scarmbles, the short fall leaving him disoriented. He digs his hand into the ground and tries to push himself up, but he feels a heavy weight on his back, pushing him down. There is something sharp at his neck, but the weight doesn't allow him to turn and look. He still struggles, though it is futile.

The noise–, the voice is sharp, sharper than the blade at his neck. They sound angry. Scary. He whimpers. 

With a rough push, he is flipped onto his back, and a strange sight greets him. The one threatening him is also large and blue, but wears very little clothing. He is holding something long and sharp, a spear, and pointing it right at his neck. He is saying something, but the boy can't understand. The creature repeats himself, but when it becomes clear that he can't understand, he huffs. Raising his hands, he brought his weapon down on his neck.

The boy was scared, but like almost all his feelings, the sensation was like wrapping himself in a ratty, old blanket. He knew it provided warmth in the past, provided comfort and familiarity. But now it was worn out and torn, a reminder of what it used to be. What it used to give. His fear was all consuming, but it felt like he'd already been consumed by it, a long time ago. 

(If it were 2 years ago, when his mind was still his, he'd cry with relief and fear. He'd been found, but not saved.)

The spear never meets his neck. Instead, he watches as the creature is tackled by another. He makes quick work of the one who tried to kill him, thin lines of blood splattering across the mask that lets him breathe. The sounds the two were making made his head spin. All sharp and aggressive, teeth bared, gurgling on his own blood. After their short struggle, the victorious one aproaches him. He kneels down, reaching his hand towards him, and the boy cowers and whimpers, trying to push himself away. The creature frowns.

"Miles?" He says, and the boy is confused. Who is–, "You. You're Miles. I'm Quaritch, I'm your dad." He says solemnly. His dad picks him up easily, but Miles is tense. He cannot keep his distance in the others arms. Quaritch holds him close to his face, gently checking him over for injuries. He can feel his knees sting, and now that he thinks about it, his hands are shaking. He is clammy and sweaty and wants to leave. He wants to be safe. This room is not safe, it is dangerous, it is scary. 

(Please, Eywa, let him stay here. Let him die here. Let him rot here. But please, do not send him back there.) 

He clings to Quaritch hashly, nails digging into his skin, when another approaches. This one is dressed like his dad, but different. Quaritch seemed to notice his weary grip, because he turned around sharply, before relaxing. "That's just Wainfleet, kid. He's safe."

Safe. He's safe. He won't hurt him? Is Quaritch safe?

He looks at the body of the creature who attacked him, now laying lifelessly on the ground. A large slash laid across his throat, blood running from the injury like a river. His chest felt tight, and he felt like he knew that man. Had seen him before. He can't remember. Can't remember. Can't remember. Won't remember.

What?

______

He wakes up inside a room. He is sitting on a chair, metal digging into him uncomfortably. There are restraints, binding him tightly. There is panic running through him. He knows why he is here. He can't remember, but he knows.

His chest had wrapped itself into tight coils, so he was struggling to breathe. He is still shaking, he noted. He is clammy, sweaty, and breathing heavily. 

He knows this. He knows this.

He is afraid.

_______

A young boy wakes up in a room. He tastes blood and his skin is burning. The room is cold and hard, but he is resting against something warm. The boy feels his throat is too dry and torn to even try to speak, so he settles for a pathetic, questioning moan.

"You back with me, son?"

He tries to turn, but he cannot. The slightest movement hurts him. It feels like his nerves are on fire.

His hands, rubbed raw and bloody, are gently clasped in another's hold. They look tiny in the others blue hands.

"Yeah, that was…uh…a long session, huh? Thought you'd be used to it by now, but ya scream just as loud every time."

The son can tell it's meant to be a joke; a casual remark, but he can also hear the grimace in the man's voice. The gritted teeth. His tightening hold. He is upset. Why?

His wounds sting. The son sucks in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. It hurts. His hands, they hurt. The large man behind him seems to take notice, as his hold loosens, barely. He breathes, uneven, but more easily. It hurts less. Insignificantly less, but less is something.

The boy notices a hand through his hair. It is warm and gentle, and massages softly into his scalp. 

He doesn't know his own name, nor the person behind him. He does not panic, though.

The end

For now?

I actually don't know if i want this to have multiple parts or not all i know is that there is a tortured boy w daddy issues and i love him i want to tuck him into bed mwah mwah

[skullzy20]

I wanted an excuse to draw teeth

[serickswrites]

Sorry things are not so great right now friend! Take your time and enjoy your vacation! We'll all be happy to read whatever you cook up when you're ready.

Hey, friend. Thank you for this. It was a good vacation even though a lot of shit happened as soon as I got back. I'm still really glad I got to go.

Please enjoy a little something for stopping by and the well wishes.

Warnings: captivity, torture, blood, wounds, injury, bruises, blood from the mouth, cruel whumper

Whumpee sagged between Whumper's two accomplices. They couldn't lift their legs. They could barely keep their eyes open. They could feel the blood dribbling from their mouth down their chin, but they couldn't do anything about it.

Whumper had beaten them so severely. Had beaten them for hours. And then left them as Whumpee teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. Just as Whumpee breathed a sigh of relief that the torture had ended for the day, the door to their cell banged open again and there were hands on them again. Accomplice One and Accomplice Two grabbed Whumpee roughly, dragged Whumpee to standing.

Whumpee cried out as they were pulled from the room. They couldn't take any more. They needed to sleep. Needed to not be in their body for a while. Anything to have some reprieve.

"Well, well, well," Whumper said as they stood in the doorway, "you certainly have no manners."

Both accomplices tried to force Whumpee to stand, but Whumpee's legs gave out. They hung their head forward, letting their blood drip onto the ground at Whumper's feet.

"Look at me," Whumper ordered.

Whumpee didn't want to follow Whumper's orders. Didn't want to do anything except pass out. Couldn't do anything.

"I said look at me," Whumper hissed as they towered over Whumpee.

Whumpee whimpered as Accomplice Two fisted their hair and lifted their head. They stared up into Whumper's rageful face. "Was that so hard?" Whumper sneered.

"Pl-Pl-Please," Whumpee whispered.

Whumper rolled their eyes. "Pl-Pl-Please," Whumper imitated. "Give me a break," they said as they kicked Whumpee in the stomach.

Whumpee squealed with what air they had left. Whumper kicked them again. And again.

And suddenly Whumpee was on the floor once more. They stared up at Whumper as Whumper's face swam in and out of focus. "Next time," Whumper growled, "you'll do as I say or there won't be a next time."

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Grip (Title to be figured out later) (Trigger Warning)

(TW: Allusions to and metaphors for SA/Attempted SA, pinning by someone in a position of power, torture, Durza being Durza. The usual besides that.)

Everything hurt.

That wasn’t new. Durza being the one to take her back to her cell was unusual, but it wasn’t new. He kept his hand wrapped firmly around the wild start of her braid, tight against the base of her skull. Half pushing, half pulling her forward as the cracked bones in her left leg forced muscles to give out every other step. 

The fact that he had stopped the torture before she had gone unconscious even once…that was new. And it wasn’t like it hadn’t been ‘productive’ for him. Arya’s throat was raw from screaming, the lingering feeling of red hot iron pushing against bone pulsing through her body. It had been difficult to stay awake, even more difficult to struggle onto her hands and knees and try to stand after he released her restraints.

Always get up. Her rule for surviving this place. Spitting in Durza’s face was a close runner up to that, but it wasn’t always feasible, water being withheld and all.

The cell door crashed shut. Everything flared white and searing when her body hit the ground, shocking her back to a brittle alertness. 

She took a few moments to breathe, bands of muscle and ribs clamoring in protest of the deep inhales and tight exhales, and then forced herself to roll onto her back. The cell floor was always cool. It would take some time for the chill to seep through the tunic, he hadn’t left the snaps open this time, but it would reach the wounds that lined her back eventually. Some modicum of relief.

Arya froze a split second. 

Durza was looming over her. Still inside the cell. 

That was definitely new.

She tried to rise up on her elbows, start clawing her way back to upright. Get up. Always get up.

He pounced. Slammed her back to the floor with an animalistic growl. Her raw wrists were clamped in one of his pale hands, pinned above her head, his other palm pressing hard into her collarbone. His weight settled on her hips, knees tight to her sides, jamming into the bruised flesh.

Arya snarled and thrashed, tried to lift herself against his hold. He pushed back, squeezed tighter, leaned closer. Closer….

His eyes. There was something different about his eyes. 

A cold jolt of lightning struck in Arya’s belly. It made her still, eyes wide, teeth locked and lips tight. 

What was that look? That…that wasn’t there before when he looked at her. He’d always been predatory, always regarded her with a certain calculating gaze that bordered on gleeful, amused, hungry even. Bloodlust dominated it, thrilled at having such a resilient plaything at his disposal.

But this was…this was an altogether different gleam of hunger.

His perch on her hips was suddenly much more alarming. 

She turned her head away, tried to free her wrists as blood slickened his grip. He responded by digging his nails in deep, her bare flesh giving way as easily as if he had pierced her with blades. 

“Now, now.” Arya jerked involuntarily, fingers trying desperately to claw at empty air, anything to loosen his hold. His breath was cold against her exposed neck, suddenly very close. “None of that. Where would you go, little elf? There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.” Fuck, she could feel him smiling. 

A harsh growl rattled from deep in her chest when his free hand trailed over her throat. The soft laugh he responded with was far from comforting. His fingertips, nails pricking as they went, drifted from the near-black cut arching up from her jaw, down the soft underside and lingered over her jugular. He seemed to revel in the frantic beat of her thready pulse and leaned closer, inspecting the bright lines of blood that welled up in the wake of his touch. 

A sudden thrash of her pinned hips nearly dislodged him. The desperate twist sliced agony from the base of her skull to the bottom of her heels, a clipped cry tearing from her as fresh burns ripped open, half sealed wounds oozing blood onto the floor. 

Durza released a growl of his own at the sound, desperate and hungry. His hand found a renewed grip on her throat and tore away the prison tunic. 

The elf snapped her teeth back at him, hands finally free, scratching and clawing like a feral animal. The damp air of the cell on her bare chest was a bucket of ice water in her veins, blotting out the pain, the bile rising. 

If she could get him off, then she could fight properly. His fingers around her throat were the only thing controlling her upper body, and with them there he had to fend off both her hands tearing at his face with only one of his own. 

Eyes. Those fucking disgusting eyes. 

Arya surged forward, vision fading at the edges, lunging for his head. She felt her fingers latch on, thumbs driving up and in and

Two of his fingers. Between her ribs. 

Inside. Her ribs. 

Well, if that wasn’t a metaphor….

“Does this hurt, little elf?” His chuckle was low, deep in his throat. He knocked her trembling grasp away with a shake of his head, crimson hair wild and flashing bloody in the moonlight. 

‘Yes!’ If his other hand hadn’t been around her throat she was sure she would have screamed her response, everything in her body spasming as his clawed fingertips grazed something inside her chest. 

She could feel him searching for it again, the disgustingly satisfied noise he made when her eyes shocked wide and a strangled gurgle rose from her mouth when he made contact.

Durza eased his weight back from her neck. Licked his lips when the woman’s eyes rolled back at the influx of air, the reflexive gasp. 

The sensation of her lung pressing against his fingertips, warm, wet. The thrashing as her body tried to get away from the source of pain, pulsing the muscles to contract around him, clamp her ribs tight down on his fingers. Her ragged half screams that ended in growls of frustration, only to be replaced by new, unavoidable agony as her starved blood forced her to take another breath. Begin the cycle again.

Oh, yes. This was what he was drawn to. What he wanted. The feeling of her writhing beneath him. Corded muscle under his hand, the strength she still had, her fighting back with every ounce of it only to find a fresh reserve. Her nails, blunted, half missing from his treatment, digging into his forearm as she dragged up more and more resolve in the face of agony unimaginable. 

The Shade did nothing to hide the delighted shudder that rushed up his spine, eyelids fluttering as he inhaled. No fear. He never smelled fear on her. The sharp scent of anger, of boiling blood, of glass-shard tenacity….

This one…this one would never stop fighting. Such a resilient, resistant plaything. 

He wanted that. He hadn’t felt this in a long time.

And then the logic surged forward, drowning out the rabble and screaming of the spirits to take, take, take. 

Not now, not yet. Mustn't break such a delightful toy, ravage such a treat, so soon. He should savor it. If he pushed too far, if he took his pleasure now, all at once, gorged himself on it, then it would be gone forever. She would fight far longer than this. More, now that she had seen his intent.

Intent.

Her eyes were somehow still open. Even when he twisted the two fingers buried in her chest cavity, they stayed open. Burning. Boring into him. Unmistakable in her intent. A promise.

If he did this, and she didn’t manage to kill him, then it would be the death of her. She would do her damnedest to take him over into the abyss with her. 

No matter his fate, she would die with a smile on her lips through the screams. 

And he didn’t want that. 

Slowly, with every molecule of his mind and the spirits swirling within it screaming in discontent, Durza slid his fingers from between her ribs. Wordless spells closed the rifts left as they retreated until, with a quiet squelch of blood and crackle of cartilage, he broke the connection between their bodies. All that remained as evidence was a ragged scab. 

His arm twitched. He ripped the scab open. 

The spirits were nothing if not petty in their spite.

Arya coughed hard, the oxygen rush spotting her vision just as the frothy blood splattered the ground. He’d stopped. Why would he stop? If he was going to have his way then get it done with. If anything it could distract him enough for her to get at his eyes again. Rip them out and crush them.

The second she could feel her muscles, she tried to twist out from under him. 

All it earned her was his hand around her throat yet again, the side of his palm digging into the underside of her jaw. His thumb wandering, running over her skin as if stroking to soothe. Possessive.

Rat bastard.

“If I did not think it would kill us both,” The man-shaped monster mused, dragging his claws across her abdomen, over the silvered scar bolting from her hip, as her body flexed and tensed with her jerking movements. “I would have you for myself.” 

He was suddenly at her neck again. Faster than she could suck in a breath his filed teeth sank into her collarbone. It splintered like old wood, snapped to pieces under the force. 

She didn't even have the breath to scream.

And then he was off her. Staring down at the mess he had made, tracing her form with eyes gleaming in the ghostly moonlight that dripped from the barred window. Licking the blood from his thin lips slowly. Savoring it.

If she had anything in her stomach, Arya would have lost it at the sight. 

As it was she struggled to sit up. Her right arm popped and ground against its own weight, sagging limp at her side as she pushed off the floor with her left. She met his gaze with the malice of a fucking god, ignored the carnal smile that curled his lips as she shifted her good leg under and started to rise, still barechested and her body on display. 

She wore the lack of modesty as she would full battle rattle, head high, tenacity in her veins, fight on, fight on.

Get up. Always get up. Doesn’t matter what’s going on, what’s been done, what you have or don’t have. 

Get. Up. Now.

And then Durza’s stupid, shiny boot connected with her right shoulder with a resounding snap. 

The elf howled, slammed back to the ground again in bright flashes of blinding white and the smell of burning. It felt as though a landmine had gone off inside her trapezius, shredded muscle and bone and nerves and she could feel her shoulder blade in pieces pressing up against the back of her ribs and into the flesh above her shoulder. Her right side was on fire, rivaling the irons and the spells and it was all so much.

“I think that’s enough for today, little elf.” Cartilage and bone fragments crackled as Durza shifted his weight, leaned over her to pluck the discarded prisoner tunic from the bloodstained floor. “You have been most…giving, for me today.”

She couldn’t answer, not even with a glare. Her eyes were screwed shut, left hand pawing pathetically at his boot.  

He removed it after a few long moments of contemplation, reveling in the sight of the agony he had caused. A quick check and brief spell healed the tiny tears in her arteries and veins that threatened to rupture, protected them from bone shards until he deigned to heal the ruined arm. The elf lay gasping in air when he finally stepped away.

The cell door closed behind him with a satisfying clang. He waited. He knew she wouldn’t let herself stay there for long. 

It was a handful of minutes. Longer than most times he had left her conscious. But he soon heard the scuffle, the hissed noises of a creature fighting through pain. The stumbling patter of her bare feet as she staggered to the cell door and fell against it. 

Oh, how brave and foolish of her. She curled her left fingers around the bars in the window for support and glared out at him, wheezing through clenched teeth. 

The look was easy enough to decipher. It’s why he had waited, after all. One last humiliation for the day.

Durza let his face split with a languid smile, all bloodstained teeth and ill contained satisfaction. He hooked the bloodied tunic with the tips of his index and pointer fingers, held it up for her to see. “Want this back, do you?”

Her expression didn’t change, all fire in her eyes and stone on her face. A trickle of sweat fell from her temple, the effort of standing even with the door’s support taxing her to the ends of her failing strength. 

The Shade hummed. He stepped back, twisted mirth in his maroon gaze, and held her shirt out to her. Beyond her reach. And she was not quite so foolish as to put her last good arm through the bars.

The smile widened. 

He let the garment fall from the tips of his fingers. It landed on the floor in a sad pile, snaps clicking on the concrete.

Her gaze followed it. Flicked back to him and she narrowed her eyes.

Slowly, painfully, the woman unfurled just her middle finger from where it was clamped around the bars. 

Durza merely tossed back his head and laughed. 

And then his hand was through the window, fingers fisted in her hair. He slammed her face against the bars, her cheek tight to the metal as he leaned in and whispered in her ear. 

“Do not make me revisit my decision, little elf. I could have you whenever I wish.” He bared his teeth as she did. He could feel her shaking in his grip, pain or weakness or some combination of the two. 

It wasn’t fear. She still smelled of cold rage. No fear, no terror. He smiled again, renewed heat stirring in his belly. “A worthy death, taking one of your kind. And such a feisty one at that.”

She snapped her teeth and rumbled a growl pierced by the crackling of trapped air deep inside her chest. Rammed her intact shoulder into the door even harder than he had yanked her forward. It rattled on its hinges, another reserve of strength neither of them expected. 

But the jolt was enough. The woman gave a ragged groan and sank to the ground, curled against the reinforced oak as the waves of agony overwhelmed her mind. Her consciousness faded, disappeared, as she was dragged into the darkness, away from it all.

Durza stood before the door for several moments longer, focusing deep within himself. Quelled the ache and heat and placated the spirits screaming for him to continue, to forget his higher self.  The rabble subdued to a murmur, he turned back to the stairs at the end of the hall.

Another day. He would have his prize.

[cicero-the-assassin]

@inthisfire-ifindrain

"Open your eyes."

'Satisfying' couldn't begin to describe what Cicero felt in this very moment. Those sharp eyes locking with dulled yet pained ones as he led Fiona from behind up a small hill. Hands over her eyes.

'A surprise' he told her. A surprise for his 'favorite girl'. Unknowingly to her at this moment, all this wouldn't be possible if not for her. Her trusting nature- her yearning for love and attention from those who could lift her stature.

Cicero was a step down from Vulpes no longer, not with him being revealed to her nailed to the cross before her. Bloody and beaten- wheezing and pathetic. He much preferred him this way- sitting atop his fucking throne he deserved.

Hands no longer over her eyes, they travelled to her tiny shoulders. Claw like nails kneading into her flesh, in adoration as well as a way to keep her in place. Though he'd done everything he could to pull Fiona from her husband and right into his clutch, he was sure there could be some residual feelings left lying around in her heart somewhere. Despite his constant poison turning her against him.

"Surprise," He rumbles against her temple, his eyes never leaving his 'Master'. To Fiona, it may have been display. To Cicero, it was an affront.

'You should've known better you fuck- You should've killed me when you got the chance-

You stupid fucking cunt- now look at you. Everything that was yours-

Is mine.'

"Caesar, unfortunately, has found your husband guilty of treason. Such a sad fate, no? To be forgotten like that- you know-

The way he forgot you."