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lancetuckershairgel · 4 years

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Serial Killers

Summary: Jefferson and Chase Collins are two serial killers. You’re their next victim.

Warnings: Violence, abuse, noncon, gore, death (you don’t live sorry. RIP tho.)

AN: This is definitely the darkest thing I’ve ever written yet I’m thriving. Don’t like don’t read. Tagged most of my usual's except those I know for a fact don’t want to read it. If you’re tagged and don’t think this is for you just move along to happier things.

Fear coursed through your veins as you ran through the dark woods. The blood from the gash on your head fell in crimson drips and dried on your cheek but there wasn’t time to wipe it away. You felt dizzy, your vision was blurred, but you couldn’t stop. Not if you wanted to live. Finally you collapsed against a large tree and fell to your knees, your lungs burned and your heart pounded hard. Your body was sore and you were certain you had broken ribs. As you caught your breath you tried to remember the events that lead up to you running for your life from two psychopaths.

You were cautious. Always aware of your surroundings and had self defense skills but none of that mattered when it came to Jefferson and Chase. They had grabbed you and knocked you unconscious with a chloroform soaked rag before you could even blink. You woke up in an abandoned warehouse on a closed road outside of town. No one for miles. No one to hear your screams as they beat you. They laughed as they did so, like two deranged mental patients. They thought it was a game to chain you to the rafters and have you dangle in the air while they took a crowbar to your legs, ass, back and chest. They thought it was entertaining to rip away your hoodie and set it on fire, followed by your shoes and your purse. The look of dark, sadistic desiring their eyes as they told you their plan for you made you sick. A dumb move really because now you knew that they were the serial killers that had been all over the news the last three months.

You thanked God that the younger of the two wasn’t that bright and had thought you’d be fine left unconscious and unchained while they went to get supplies out of the car. The stun gun to the back of your neck had knocked you out but not for as long as they’d hoped for. You came to and ran as soon as you realized you had the opportunity. You didn’t care that it was cold and you were only in short denim shorts and a torn t-shirt. You didn’t care that you were barefoot and the sticks and pebbles on the ground hurt as you ran. You didn’t care that your body was already on fire from the abuse you suffered at their hands.

The crack of a stick snapping under a heavy boot made you jump. Your eyes darted around but it was too dark to see anything. Footsteps grew closer and you stood to run again but you fell back to the ground, weak and unsteady.

“Please” You whispered as they stood over you, teeth shining as the grinned sadistically

“Stupid bitch."

Chase’s boot connecting to the side of your head was the final push needed for you to lose the fight. Your body fell to the ground with a thud as the darkness consumed you.

–

"Is she alive?"

Jefferson sounded annoyed, even bored, as he spoke. He didn’t bother to look up from sharpening his knife when Chase checked you for a pulse.

"Yeah she’s alive."

"Good. It’d be a shame to waste all this time for her to die from a kick in the skull. Takes all the fun out of it.”

“How are we gonna do it?”

Chase asked as he played with your hair. He was more than likely thinking about cutting it off and sending it in an envelope to your parents.

“I was thinking gut her. Hang her on the welcome sign by her intestines.”

Jefferson dropped the stone block he was sharpening his knife with and stared blankly at his partner. Chase was definitely the more insane of the two.

“What?” Chase shrugged innocently

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Jefferson sighed “We do her just like the others.”

“Repetition is boring."

"Repetition is what doesnt get us caught and your ass fisted by some guy named Tank.”

Chase pouted as Jefferson gave his cheek a pat.

“Too pretty for prison, Angel."

Chase nodded agreement and took out his knife, cutting a piece of your hair off with one quick motion. He stuffed it in an envelope then quickly forgot about it.

You stirred and they looked at each other with grins.

"Time for some more fun” Jefferson said as he lifted your chin

Your head rolled to the other side, heavy with pain. Your eyelids fluttered and you tried to speak.

“Save your breath. You’ll need it for all the screaming you’re going to do.”

Chase’s voice resonated with you and your eyes snapped open. You began to plead with them but they ignored you.

“Let’s get her on the mattress. Get this over with. Cunt’s already wasted enough of our time with that escape attempt.” Jefferson sliced through the zip ties that bound your wrist to the metal chair “You’re going to pay for that by the way."

A shiver ran down your spin as he growled the words in your ear. You didn’t have the strength to fight them as they pulled you up by your arms and dragged you over to the old mattress. You were dropped onto it, face first, as if you were a rag doll, carelessly and without a second thought to your injuries.

They were on you in seconds, their pants dropped to their ankles. You clawed at the corner in a feeble attempt to pull away as they cut and ripped away the remainder of your dirty and torn clothes.

"Look at that pussy.” Chase whistled as he pulled your legs apart “Tight little ass too."

For hours they used your body for their entertainment. They defiled your holes with the handles of the crowbar and a knife, used only spit for lube (for their own comfort) as they took your ass, and abused your breasts with their teeth and hot metal they’d heated with a blow torch. After the first round you were sobbing. By the fifth you prayed for it to be the last. Finally they were done and both of your holes burned with their cum.

You laid there, unrestrained and broken, as they dressed themselves. You barely made a sound when Chase used his boot to roll you onto your back and your limbs dangled limp over the edge of the mattress.

"Pathetic slut."

He spit and the glob splat against your left eye before it ran down your face. You didn’t have the energy to wipe it away. You couldn’t even find it in you to cry anymore.

"No” was all you could whisper when they began to relieve their beer filled bladders across your abused body

“Alright let’s do this.” Jefferson nodded as he zipped up his dark jeans.

Chase sighed. He was bored with strangling the victims to death and he knew this one wouldn’t struggle. You were already gone mentally and that took all the fun out of it for him. He preferred the begging, crying, and fight they’d put up. He lived for the slashing of fingernails across his face as they tried to push him away. You weren’t going to do that and he knew the second Jefferson wrapped the thin line of cord around your neck that he’d be better off just having a cigarette until it was over.

You were laid limp against Jefferson, your head against his shoulder. You wanted to fight. Your mind was screaming at you to reach for the crowbar and bash his head in but you couldn’t. Jefferson pulled the cord tight and your lungs burned with the fiery need to breathe. Pressure filled your head and your eyes bugged wide. Your face slowly began to turn shades of blue and you barely felt your killer’s breath hot on your flesh as Jefferson grunted with strain.

“Fucking die already, Cunt. Come on.”

The last thing you saw through the blurred vision was the flash of a flame as Chase lit his cigarette.

Jefferson huffed as he released the cord. Your lifeless body laid against him and he lazily stroked down your breathless chest as he panted.

“That wasn’t as fun as it should have been” Chase complained as he helped Jefferson roll the blue barrel filled with your dismembered body and cement into the bay as the sun began to slowly peak over the horizon.

“We’ll find a new town. New victims and a new way to have our fun.”

“Can the next one be a guy? Maybe a jock?"

"Sure, Angel. I’ll get you whatever toy you want. Let’s finish cleaning up and get back to town, Grace will be awake soon and wonder where we are.”

Tag List: @southernbell91 @mycupoffanfictionreplies @marvelgirl7 @buckysforeverprincess @anxiousamandapanda @louisianaspell @i-have-arrived-bitch @brat-in-a-teacup @msruchita @buckysteveloki-me @jobean12-blog

#jefferson ouat #chase collins #dark!jefferson #jefferson x reader #chase collins x reader #sebastian stan #fan fic #fan fiction #forgive me Steve Rogers for I have sinned

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ahgaseda · 6 years

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made of stone || chapter 03

⇥ synopsis : when you return after years apart to pursue a divorce from your husband, Mark, you fall back into a contentious relationship because your partner still refuses to give up his dangerous fighting career...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, descriptions of blood and violence, alcohol or drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

The crowd roared as Jinyoung called for the start of the duel and you clenched your hands into fists to keep from crying. Here you were, back at square one. Staring at Mark, you wanted to fall to your knees and beg your husband not to continue. He may have known of your fear, but he sure as hell didn’t understand.

From where he stood, Mark wanted to throw it all away and take you in his arms. He wanted to kiss you for days and chant his apologies into your skin. Even now, the tears filling your eyes threatened to send him to the floor. He never meant to hurt you, never wanted to be the cause of your pain. And yet, he realized he was the one to have wounded you most of all.

Jinyoung called his name and Mark snapped to attention, distracted by the growing conflict inside his own head. Turning his gaze to the opponent moving toward him, Mark held up his fists at the ready.

For the first minute or two, the fight was uneventful. The two men exchanged tentative hits and spent most of their time dodging loaded swings. Given the slow start, Mark gradually dropped his guard and lost concentration. There were too many fights happening in his mind.

Chansung gave your husband a solid hook to the cheek, but Mark had enough sharpened reflexes from years of brawling to throw himself backwards at the last second, sustaining a scrape and not broken teeth. You sucked in a hard breath and shifted your weight. His eyes were unfocused; you could see that clearly. A harsh realization sank in. You had thrown him off balance.

The crowd grew louder as the fight finally began to devolve into the bloody mess they had hoped for, and bet money on. Seeing an advantage, Chansung followed Mark step for step aggressively, swinging and kicking. And when Mark went in for a quick hit, he was punished by a sharp jab to the stomach.

Mark had accepted a long time ago that he could endure punishment. In fact, he believed in his heart of hearts that he deserved it.

Panicked, you paced from the pillar and turned away, hearing the exchanges of blows and Mark groaning at the wind knocked out of him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let yourself drown in the shouts of the onlookers and forbade yourself from letting the tears escape your lashes.

How were you ever strong enough to handle this?

Angling back, you let your eyes focus on Mark in the circle. He stumbled back, enduring yet another blow to the ribs. You shook with rage, desiring nothing more than to rush in and claw out his opponent’s eyes with your fingernails.

As much as you wanted this to be different, you were here now and you had to do what you had to do.

Shoving through the crowd, you came to stand closer and called calmly, “Put him down, Mark.”

Mark sidestepped, making no moves, but you knew he had heard your orders. He was listening for your voice all along. Once upon a time, you would yell through his matches until you screamed yourself hoarse.

Chansung swung a long arc of a blow, but Mark blocked with his forearm.

“Put him down, Mark,” you growled, tone sinking. You knew what he was capable of and you would not stand and watch him take another hit.

Mark smirked ever so slightly, holding up his fists to protect his face. He was testing you and to his relief, you hadn’t held out for very long. Mark moved on nimble feet to stay a safe enough distance away from his foe, waiting for a vulnerable position to open up.

“Mark, put him down,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, attracting the attention of those around you.

Your husband ducked and lunged, exposing himself in a bold move, but the uppercut he delivered to his opponent’s jaw was more than worth it. The sound of bones cracking rang through the room and the observers bellowed their surprise in unison.

Mark stood victorious as Chansung fell to a heap on the concrete floor. The crowd was drawn down the middle; half were cheering at the win while the other half bemoaned their losses.

Jinyoung galloped over and smacked Mark’s bare chest a few times, grinning with joy at the cash he would be keeping. Mark ignored him, turning to meet your eyes with the darkest, penchant gaze he could muster.

Satisfied with the result, you folded your arms once more and returned to lean back against the pillar, resuming your earlier stance as if nothing had happened.

Counting his money, Mark approached you, stuffing the wad of cash into his back pocket. You were quick to seize his face between your hands, surveying the scrape on his cheek.

“Are you okay?” you asked, predictably worried.

“I’m fine,” he replied, taking his shirt and jacket from your hand and pulling them on.

“Take me home,” you mumbled, impatient. “We need to talk.”

Mark nodded his agreement, but lowered his head to hide a smirk.

As you hopped on to the motorcycle behind Mark and settled your hands on his hips to get your balance, someone moved in the bike’s path and waved his fingers at your husband.

“Wow, Mark,” he sneered, his voice like a devilish hiss. “Who is this?”

“She’s my life coach,” Mark retorted, irritable.

“Will we be seeing more of her?”

Taking the helmet from Mark’s outstretched hand, you answered before your husband could, “No, you won’t.”

“Be quiet,” he growled, cutting you a glare. “The men are talking.”

You flinched at being silenced so rudely and considered giving the stranger a piece of your mind. Meanwhile, Mark revved the engine and threatened, “Don’t talk to my wife like that or I will run your ass over.”

“Wife, huh?” the man sang. “I will keep that in mind.”

Mark slid on his helmet, snapped the visor down, and maneuvered the bike away, speeding off without another word.

“Who was that?” you called as best you could over the deafening blur of the city around you.

Mark replied, “Don’t worry about him.”

You grumbled at his answer and tightened your arms around his waist as he sped up. The lights of Busan were a sweet distraction. You focused on the heat of Mark against your chest and the kaleidoscope of colors reflected across your eyes.

Eventually, the motorcycle groaned to a stop inside the dimly lit garage, puffing out smoke as the engine powered down. You leaned back and pulled away the helmet, tousling your hair out of your eyes.

Glancing around the old work space, you imagined a sweaty, grease-covered Mark. He worked as a mechanic when there were jobs to be had and loved to tinker on things he ought not mess with in his free time.

Helmet off, Mark glanced over his shoulder and whispered, “Should I turn on a light?”

“I can see enough,” you replied tenderly. “I can see you.”

Mark licked his lips and confessed, “Two years later and you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Blushing at his tone, you lowered your head to hide the crimson on your cheeks. Heat gathered in your chest and crept up your neck.

Mark didn’t hesitate to slide his fingers beneath your chin, lifting you to look into his eyes. “You wanted to talk?” he asked, mischievous.

“Yeah,” you sighed weakly, nodding a delayed second later.

Mark let his hand fall from your face and made his way out of the garage and toward the porch. You were in tow a few steps behind him.

Stepping inside the house, your heart ached in your chest. “You didn’t change a thing,” you whispered, more so to yourself.

Mark glanced at you, discarding his leather jacket and kicking off his shoes. “Huh? Why would I?”

“I just thought… I don’t know. Never mind.”

Mark trudged into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and calling, “Want something to drink? I got beer.”

You chortled at the prospect of alcohol making this ordeal easier and responded, “Do you have anything stronger?”

Mark scoffed and answered, “I have whiskey. If you’re still the lightweight I remember, it should do the trick.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Mark returned from the kitchen and handed you a glass of the alcohol, clinking his beer can against it and deadpanning, “To irreconcilable differences.”

“Mark,” you murmured in scathing reproach. Nothing grated on you more than when he didn’t take something seriously.

Your husband plopped down on the couch and extended his hand toward the empty space at the opposite end of the sofa. You took a seat and crossed your legs, breathing in the familiar scents of the home you had once shared with him.

“That is the box you marked, right?” Mark persisted, losing his tolerance. “I had no idea divorcing someone came down to a multiple choice question.”

Propping your elbow on the couch, you slid your fingers into your hair and said, “Mark, I’m not taking this lightly.”

Mark scoffed. “Neither am I.”

Downing your drink and wincing at the taste, you placed your glass on the table loudly and moved on the sofa, drifting closer to him and whispering, “Divorce me.”

To your surprise, Mark grinned - one of the fakest gestures you had ever seen him make. Tilting his head, he retorted, “Fuck off.”

“Mark,” you groaned.

“It’s late. I’m ready for bed,” your husband told you calmly after chugging his beer. “Where do you want me to sleep?”

As he stood to leave, you grabbed his wrist, gazing up at him expectantly. “I still wanna talk,” you murmured, feeling small and dismissed.

Mark seemed to have no trouble ignoring you. “Take the bed. I’ll stay on the couch,” he said, pulling his hand from your grip.

You stood abruptly and shouted, “Mark!”

Your husband turned slowly, sighing loudly. “Baby, I don’t wanna fight.”

“Mark, I can file under no fault proceedings and a judge can grant me the divorce without your consent,” you rambled, hoping to get his attention.

Mark narrowed his eyes with annoyance and faced you more directly. Then, he growled, “First of all, you wouldn’t fucking dare. And second, I can contest the grounds of the divorce in a no fault filing.”

Your eyes widened and you exclaimed, “Have you talked to a lawyer?”

“It’s called Google, sweetheart,” he quipped. “I’ll take the bed. Sleep tight.”

Chasing after him, your words were shaky with emotion when you asked, “Why won’t you just be done with me?”

Mark approached with force, backing you into the wall without laying a hand on you. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared into his eyes, seeing the determination on his face.

“Because you’re still in love with me and I know why you’re doing this.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Mark was already walking away.

Halfway down the hall, he called, “Try not to run off again before morning. I plan on making breakfast.”

As the bedroom door slammed shut, your shoulders slumped with defeat and you made your way back to the couch to retrieve your glass for a refill of whiskey.

chapter 02 ⇤ chapter 03 ⇥ chapter 04

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

#got7 fanfiction #got7 reactions #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 drabbles #mark tuan fanfiction #mark tuan reactions #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan scenarios #mark tuan drabbles

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techno-sorcerer · 7 years

Text

Adjusting to the Dark: Chapter 1 The Attack

Story Summary: After recovering from an attack, Kaiba attempts to return to work. The problem: it was a vampire attack, and he didn’t recover so much as turn. Meanwhile, demons lurk ready to strike and take Kaiba Corp at the first sign of weakness

Chapter Summary: Seto Kaiba survives an unnerving attack and makes a painful recovery.

Words: 3,224

Chapter content warnings: death (major characters undead, side character death), supernatural torture, implied violence, mention of hallucinations, mentions of child abuse. [Hopefully this will be the darkest chapter]

Available on AO3, chapter 2

Seto Kaiba was walking up to Kaiba Corp Tower’s large glass doors when something knocked the wind out of his lungs, pushing him backwards. Suddenly, he found himself in an alleyway, one next to the Tower if the towering glass wall to his right meant anything. Or for that matter, if the laws of physics meant anything. However, it was night, and his eyes were slow to adjust. He staggered and leaned against the wall, his heartbeat racing.

Something must have brought him here. Kaiba’s eyes darted from shadow to shadow. His voice caught for a moment before he yelled, “Show yourself.”

One of the shadows moved, and a figure came into view. As Kaiba’s eyes focused, he noticed it was a man, or rather a boy his own age. The boy was short with hair sculpted into spikes like the Mutou kid, but unlike the Mutou kid, his skin was a warm brown and his bangs seemed to defy gravity, flying out towards the center of each spike. The boy’s nostrils flared, and then he shook his head. “I’m sorry for what I have to do, but you are clearly tainted. You reek of demon.”

“What?” Kaiba croaked, still somehow managing to include some disdain in his voice. “If you are talking about the White Dragon Necklace, I won that fair and square.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace in question. Rows of pearls spun over his fingertips upon which dangled a sapphire the size of a peach pit. Between the sapphire and the pearls sat a miniature silver dragon curled around the gem as if it were its hoard. He knew his obsession with dragons was childish, but he couldn’t resist.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Anything that requires kidnapping an old man and sending him to the hospital is not won fair, especially considering you already had a dragon to sic on him.”

Kaiba narrowed his eyes. He did have the rest of the collection, three other identical necklaces that had cost a fortune to acquire, but the dragons were made of silver. He certainly couldn’t and didn’t sic them on anyone. Perhaps the boy was referring to his head of security Kisara and her team who had aided in the acquisition. She was fierce and had probably toyed with both the old man and the necklace, but she could hardly be called a dragon. In either case, Kaiba hated when people spoke in riddles. “So, what are you here for? To get it back? I can call Kisara to take care of you as well.”

“That was a part of the plan,” the boy smirked, quickly grabbing the other end of the necklace and pulling it just short of taught.

It was a challenge, and Kaiba could not turn down a challenge. He moved his own hand gently from side to side, carefully watching the boy mirror his actions. He then pushed his hand forward to loosen the string, and moved is left hand to unfurl the boy’s finger’s and release the necklace. Yet, before his hand could reach the boy’s, it stopped. Without Kaiba seeing him move, the boy had grabbed his left hand, and he felt the boy’s fingers press down with a cold iron grip. Kaiba’s eyes widened, and for a moment he forgot to breathe. How… ?

The boy continued to smirk.

Kaiba tried to move his hand, but he couldn’t budge the boy’s grip. Instead it felt like he was pushing against a statue. When he tried to pull back, the boy’s fingers pressed down harder, locking his hand in place. Red welts appeared on Kaiba’s skin beneath the boy’s fingertips. The boy’s smirk intensified. Kaiba grit his teeth and tried not to flinch at the pain.

The boy was toying with him, and it burned. A memory of Gozaburo towering above him flashed through Kaiba’s mind, and he panicked. Pulling the necklace back, he felt the string go taught before breaking. Pearls cascaded to the ground, before bouncing and rolling away. Staring at the now exposed old cotton strings, Kaiba rolled then under his fingers one last time before letting them too fall to the ground.

The boy blinked and then frowned. “I suppose we go to the other part of the plan.”

“Or you go home before I call security. The necklace is gone. Neither of us can have it now.” Kaiba’s free hand slid into his pocket fumbling for his phone.

However, as he pulled it out of his pocket, the boy released his left hand only to swat the phone down and pin him against the concrete wall across from Kaiba Corp. “Unfortunately, you are tainted to the point where I doubt a priest or hunter could cleanse you, and even if you weren’t, your actions reveal you. You are filth.” The boy dragged Kaiba down the wall so that their eyes were level. The concrete’s bumps and crannies dug into his back and burned. The boy’s eyes almost seemed to glow with a pale light.“If it is any consolation, my partner would not approve. I hope the darkness eats your taint and frees you before you die.”

Kaiba’s eyes widened, and despite knowing its futility he pushed at the hands that locked his shoulders in place. He clawed at the boy’s exposed arms and kicked at the boy’s legs to no avail. He even, for a moment, screamed until he felt two sharp pricks in his neck and then numbness.

He tried to dig his fingernails into the boy’s skin, but his fingers felt weak and lethargic. They barely moved and slid across the boy’s skin before they stopped and fell. His feet skid across the ground a few times before they went limp. A few gasps of air wheezed out of his lungs, his tongue unable to form words. Finally rainbow patterns tinged with darkness wove across his vision, while his ears went hot with dizziness. All sensations became vague and blurred like he was miles away from his own body.

Then, the last light left his vision, and he fell to darkness.

An eternity seemed to pass and then Kaiba saw white in all directions. He blinked, twitched his toes, and shook his head, but everything felt off, like he was existing slightly to the left of reality. He moved his feet again and noticed that he wasn’t encountering any resistance. He bobbed in place. A squeak escaped his lips, and he started to flail. It took a moment to steady himself, and by the time he did, he was panting. What the fuck was going on? He stared downward into nothing, eyes struggling to focus without anything to focus on. Slowly his breathing returned to normal. Perhaps none of this was real anyways.

Looking back up, Kaiba began to notice a few details. First, a thin grey line started to form a horizon with wisps flying outward in both directions. Kaiba wasn’t sure whether it had been there before, but regardless he was grateful for its steadying influence. Second, a soft red glow emanated from behind him.

At first, the glow as disconcerting but curiosity got the better of Kaiba, and he began to twist his body to get a better view. Unfortunately, without anything to push against, he didn’t turn so much as slightly swivel in place. Glaring at the horizon, Kaiba pouted. Wherever he was, it was annoying. He concentrated on the horizon and willed himself to move, but before he had a chance to twist, he began to move, spinning on his axis. He startled and suddenly stopped, before concentrating and turning again.

He immediately regretted it.

In front of him stood a gigantic garnet bust of Gozaburo. It stood nearly eight feet tall with deeply carved eyes staring down at Seto. In addition to the glow the stone’s marbled pattern seemed to shift as if it was the shadows cast by a fire, and Seto thought he smelled a whiff of smoke. However, there was no fire to be seen, and the only light here was the omnipresent fluorescent glow. But, the most troubling aspect of the bust was how it wasn’t quite human. It certainly had Gozaburo’s face and his condescending sneer, but there were also a pair of rams horns that curled from the edges of Gozaburo’s forehead and wrapped around his ears. The parting of his lips revealed rows of sharpened teeth.

Seto felt his heart pound against his chest. He tried to remind himself that he was Kaiba now, but in front of Gozaburo it never felt true. After seeing that face, even with the man driven out and dead, it seemed like he was one transgression away from being sent to the orphanage and one misstep away from a long night of studying with no breaks and no dinner.

Seto willed himself away from the statue, cursing how slow his body drifted. The horizon was now a thick black stripe. It roiled and churned with a physical presence like a sandstorm made of charcoal and smoke. But, anywhere was better than here.

The bust glowed brighter for a moment and then a strand of garish red lashed out at Seto’s ankle. He pulled his leg towards his body and watched the strand pass beneath him, but soon other strands emerged from the statue and whipped towards him. He dodged one then two, yet eventually one wrapped around his torso and started pulling him forward. The outside of the swath was featureless, but it felt sinewy and writhed against his skin like a giant dry tongue. Grabbing and tugging on it jostled it and Seto around, but the efforts did little to detach himself or stop it from pulling him closer to the statue.

Seto barely saw the black clouds approaching or the light dim as he fought with the red swath. He pulled and tugged. He dug his fingernails into it and attempted to pry it off. He pounded against it and wedged his fingers between himself and it. None of it prevailed, and the statue held him 4 feet away from its taunting eyes.

But the clouds eventually came and fortunately they hit the bust first since at that moment embers flew up into the cloud quickly disappearing within it. The bust’s glow flickered for a few seconds and then extinguished. The swath writhed tossing Seto about before finally letting go. He didn’t have much time to react before the cloud completely overtook the statue leaving nothing more than a few bursts of light.

The black cloud continued rolling forward.

Kaiba glanced around, looking for a way out, but the only light was coming from above and below. The edges of the clouds formed a long thin tunnel in both directions With the cloud closing in, Kaiba decided to fuck it- he was floating anyway- and willed himself up. But, he moved painfully slow till and the dark cloud quickly consumed him.

The black cloud tossed him around like a rag doll and pelted him, though Kaiba could not see with what. It was confusing, and everything hurt.

Fortunately, not being able see anything and, in particular, being free of Gozaburo’s statue helped him clear his mind. This was nonsense. Everything that had happened since he got here was utter bullshit. There was even a chance that this was another hallucination, though most of his had only had auditory and visual symptoms. Seeing himself melting had been incredibly off putting, but he didn’t remember the experience being this physically painful. Still, Kaiba considered, a strange boy had just beat him up in an alleyway; some physical pain was probably par for course.

Moreover, if he was hallucinating, there was still reality out there waiting for him. There was still Mokuba waiting for him to get home from work. Mokuba who was going to enter the fifth grade and insisted on going to public school rather than just having a private tutor because he wanted to be with the other kids. Mokuba who helped manage the company despite not having undergone his first growth spurt. Mokuba who still smiled and wanted his big brother to smile.

And, if it wasn’t an hallucination, well, there wasn’t anything more he could do than try to make it through this.

The pounding increased as time went on until the smoke did something it shouldn’t be able to do: it tightened around his throat. His already labored breathing became wheezes, and his fingers immediately went to his throat trying to find whatever was choking him. The smoke was thicker there but there was nothing to hold onto. He reminded himself that there was nothing there. This was not happening. He could still breathe.

He hated these exercises, but what choice did he have. He focused. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Deep breath in. One Two. Three. Four. Five. Deep breath out. One. Two…

Eventually the smoke gave up trying to strangle him, and then everything felt like it was on fire. The smoke burned against his skin and lungs, even though there was still not a speck of light to be seen. Still, Kaiba couldn’t hold back the scream that erupted from his throat. His mind was consumed by the pain, but a small part of him was glad to have some proof that he hadn’t actually been choking. That hardened his resolve to push forward. He thought of Mokuba.

When Kaiba managed to make it through that, the smoke felt like liquid sloshing all around him. Instead of pushing against his throat, it slid down into his lungs. Instead of fighting to breathe, his body became convinced that each breath was killing him. But, it wasn’t happening, he reminded himself. It couldn’t be happening. Somehow he kept breathing.

After a while, everything stopped. He floated in peaceful darkness, waiting for the hallucination to part. While he waited a whisper came, or rather words came without a voice, “Your soul is strong.”

Kaiba tried to laugh, but it exited his lips as a deflated sigh.

“We tried but cannot consume you. Still, we took your life; it is ours. You shall consume for us.”

Suddenly, the world shifted and changed. It was still dark, but his other senses were tumbled upside down.

First, Kaiba noticed the smell. The previous place, which Kaiba was already discounting as a particularly vivid dream, was odorless except for the brief period of burning that smelled of ashes and cinders. Now, he smelled rotting food, piss, sour milk and molds. Even the most pleasant overtones of coffee and tea did little to help the unholy bouquet unfurling in his mouth and nose and sitting at the bottom of his lungs. The intensity was overwhelming, assaulting his senses like nothing he’d ever experienced. He breathed out, pushing the air out his lungs and hoping that, by the time he had to breathe in, the stench would be gone. It didn’t stop the smell entirely but it would have to do for now.

In addition to the smell, a shallow pool of liquid soaked the side of hair and the front of his shirt, and some had even leaked in through his previously parted lips. He sputtered, attempting unsuccessfully to spit out every trace of the liquid and then sealing his mouth against anymore entering.

Having provided himself that relief, Kaiba noticed he was no longer floating but rather was laying belly down on a cool metal surface with his head twisted to the side uncomfortably. Weight pushed down on him unevenly. In some places, the pressure was focused and sharp such as the line weight that went down his back before stopping at a point that dug into his spine. Other places were simultaneously heavy and soft. Whatever was covering his face stuck to his cheek and molded to his head’s crevices, yet pushed him down almost pinning him against the wet ground.

Kaiba curled his fingers around the pressure on his right hand hoping to move it out of the way. Immediately noticed it was a plastic bag by the way the film stuck to his skin and tugged when he pulled on it. When he tried to lift the bag, it buckled against the things above and around it. He was able to push it up half a foot before the bag ripped, releasing another wave of noxious fumes.

Kaiba dropped the bag and gagged, expecting himself to barf but finding himself unable. He continued to hope that he wouldn’t have to breathe in.

There was no choice but to lie there and wait. He let his mind drift to the city sounds around him. They were understandably muffled but also louder than usual. He heard the thrum of car engines and the occasional screech of tires. Somewhere far down the street construction was underway. The breeze funneling through the streets gave a low whistle he’d never stopped long enough to hear before. There were footsteps and distant overlapping conversations, though the muffling meant that he couldn’t pick distinguish any words. And, underneath it all were quiet but hypnotizing iterations of tu-tup.

A hunger began to crawl at the back of his mind. No. Not hunger. He didn’t want to eat. Whether it was the stench around him or something else, the thought of eating anything from a common burger to his favorite beef fillet sounded... disgusting.

Yet, the occasional tu-tup immediately lured him and intensified his hunger. He salivated, and something twitched in his upper jaw. He wanted to run towards whatever was making that noise and bite into it, rip into it. He wanted to hear it, but he also wanted to it to stop- to be the one who stopped it. The compulsion was so strong that he tried to stand up, but, again, shifting the bags released more foul odors that pinned him in place.

Kaiba was trapped and terrified. The pitch black sensory hell was bad enough, but now he had the hunger raking across his thoughts, giving him violent desires he didn’t understand. Why would he react so strongly to such a small simple sound? A need rang through his body to get up, go, grab the noise. I can’t, he tried reminded himself, but the need persisted. The only thought that placated it was the idea that he waiting, biding his time. And, with that, his consciousness drifted away, leaving his body limp.

He still hadn’t breathed in.

The next time he came to, he had an amazing taste in his mouth. Sweet and rich but slightly metallic, he swallowed and savored it. His tongue instinctual licked his lips, trying to find more. Moreover, he felt relaxed, and he finally think straight. The hunger was gone or at least sated.

That’s when Kaiba started processing the situation around him. He was no longer pinned against the ground, but was in fact standing. The smell was strong but not nearly as overwhelming. The sounds were crisper, including a blaring incessant beep. A pulsing light illuminated the scene, and Kaiba’s eyes drifted towards a pale corpse in a bright green vest slouched against the wall in front of him.

Kaiba tried to scream, but without any air in his lungs, the noise caught in his throat.

Author’s Note: I hope you all enjoy this! It's my first multichapter\longer fic in a while (though not my first one), so we’ll see how it goes. Daydreams regarding this have been assaulting me for the past several days, so I really wanted to get it out. I will be starting graduate school soon, so while I plan to write regularly, I don’t know how quickly chapters will be coming out.

I tried to follow Kaiba’s perspective partly to emphasize how weird and confusing this was for him. Hopefully you were able to pick up on some things he didn’t, and if not hopefully things will become more apparent as the story moves forward. I did realize towards the end that I could have used a soul room for the white space sequence, but I loved the visuals of this and it was already written.

Also, at this point, Atem is very much like season 0 Yami, passing often disproportionate judgments based on the bad behavior of other people without knowing fully what’s going on.

#yugioh #ygo #seto kaiba #atem #fanfic #gozaburo kaiba #kisara #death #violence #torture #mentions of halucinations #mentions of child abuse #fic: adjusting to the dark #orgnpst #mokuba kaiba #attd content

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scarletscreamo · 7 years

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GENERAL

Real Name: Lexis Lockwood

Alias: The Crying Demon

Nickname(s): Cry, The Forest Demon.

Age: Perpetually 20

D.O.B: June 12th 1995

D.O.D: June 20th 2015

Birthplace: Silverton, Colorado

Language: English, little bits of French.

Voice: Her voice is light and melodic. The kind of voice that makes you want to fall asleep listening to them.

Current Residence: In a small abandoned house in Slender Woods.

Gender: Female

Species/Race: Demon/Ghost

Status: Dead/Living as a demon, Active.

Cause of Death: Killed by her ex boyfriend.

Alliance: Slenderman

Occupation: She sometimes goes to one of the nearby towns and plays guitar on the sidewalk for money. She doesn’t need to eat real food but she does need drinks which are considerably cheaper.

Weapon(s): Her fingernails are able to grow out and sharpen into claws that are capable of ripping through flesh.

Method of Killing: She usually lures in people by pretending to cry near wherever they are and leading them further into the woods. She then waits for them to touch her back before she turns and pounces on them and cuts them. She lets them push her off and run where she begins to chase them. She usually pounces on them where they can see the town but far enough away not to attract attention. Then she leans in close, whispers her phrase, kisses them, and sucks out their soul.

Phrase: I guess curiosity does kill the cat. (Credit to my cousin Rusty who came up with the phrase!)

Hobbie(s): She enjoys listening to music and singing. She also reads in her spare time, mostly books on old legends. When she’s in a good mood, she might even bake a bit, mostly cookies and smaller snacks.

Special Items: She has a simple metal loop bracelet with a small plaque that says ‘big sis’ on it. Her younger sister Evelyn has one with ‘little sis’ on it.

Likes: Music, Singing, Sugar Cookies, Cats.

Dislikes: Having her neck showing, Being reminded of her ex boyfriend, The smell of burning wood.

Fear(s): Being buried alive, running into her family and having them recognize her.

Personality: She puts on the persona of being cold and cut off but in reality she can get hurt quite easily. She’s always worn her heart on her sleeve but after being betrayed and killed she’s learned to put on a cold act to avoid being hurt worse. When you get past her act, she’s a genuinely nice person. She’s a good person to go to with problems if you want an unbiased opinion.

Backstory: Cry had a pretty average life up until her death. Working parents, average school life, a cute little sister who wanted to be just like her.

Childhood: Her childhood was pretty average. Both her parents worked so she was often left with a sitter, same with her sister when she came around 4 years after her. She discovered her love of music through her mother playing guitar for her.

Adolescence/Teens: During her teen years, she grew a little distant from her father because of her want to pursue a music based career but everything else was average. She had a few boyfriends here and there and tons of friends from music club. She decided to go to college for business so she could run her own music lounge.

Adulthood: When she was in college she focused mostly on classes. Then Stevie came into her life. He was your typical punk rocker dude with a garage band and a bad attitude. They began dating shortly after Cry turned 19. Their relationship was quite flighty and heated. They fought most of the time and only really showed they cared through their make up sex. In one of their more heated arguments, Cry admitted to cheating on him with his drummer to get back at him for cheating on her with his guitarist. Stevie snapped and began to hit her. Things escalated until he finally strangled her to death. Realizing what he’d done, he brought her out to the woods in the night and buried her in a very shallow grave. Slender felt her soul struggling to hang on to her body and he brought her back through a simple ritual. She dug her way back up and began her life as a demon.

RELATIONSHIPS

Orientation: Heterosexual, Heteroromantic.

Relationship/Partner: Eyeless Jack, Their relationship is a very playful one. Jack loves to tease her and argue with her about silly things to see her lose her cold persona for a bit and Cry loves to push Jack’s buttons and see just how far she can push him before he finally snaps back at her.

Family: Frederick Lockwood (Dad, alive), Lily Lockwood (Mom, alive), Evelyn Lockwood (Younger sister, alive).

Allies/Friends: Slender, Sally, Jeff, Ben, Toby, Masky, Hoodie, and Clockwork.

Rivals/Enemies: Very few that are still alive and/or that believe she is still alive.

APPEARANCE

Hair: Blonde, pin straight, looks a bit dusty/dirty no matter how many times she washes it, down to the middle of her neck.

Skin: Pale with a slight greyish complexion.

Eyes: Blue that looks dulled over and a bit foggy.

Height: 5 feet 4 inches or 162.56 centimeters.

Weight: 127 pounds or 57.6062 kilograms.

Body Type: Cry has a very slim and small frame. It’s not very curvy or voluptuous in any regard.

Outfit: She wears a pale blue turtleneck sweater and plain blue jeans. She always has her bracelet and her shoes are simple black tennis shoes.

Accessories: Her bracelet.

Distinguishing Features: Her fingernails are a dirty brownish black color from digging through dirt. She also has bruises shaped like handprints on her neck from Stevie, which is why she wears a turtleneck.

PHYSICAL

Disorder(s): Depression.

Abilities/Strengths: She can go without air for a long time before it bugs her. She doesn’t need actual food to survive.

Weaknesses/Faults: She needs souls to maintain her form, if she doesn’t have enough of them then she becomes more ghost like and she becomes a lot more unstable.

STATS

(Rate from 1-10, 10 being the highest/best. Maybe give a small explanation for it)

Intelligence: 6, She’s generally smart and knows when to put emotions aside.

Strength: 7, She’s a little stronger than average being that she’s a demon.

Speed: 5-6, She’s average on speed except for when she’s chasing a victim.

Agility: 5, Average reflexes.

Endurance: 8, She’s very well built to fire and most types of torture.

Stamina: 6, Pretty average.

Balance: 4, She’s on the clumsy side naturally.

Tolerance: 5, Average social skills.

FACTS/TRIVIA

Slender actually got her a little zombie cat as a companion on what would have been her 21st birthday.

She knows how to sew. She often repairs everyone clothes when they get torn on the job.

She often goes into her old town and spies on her family just to check in on them and make sure they’re safe.

When she was killed, she was actually 10 weeks pregnant with Stevie’s child. The baby was unfortunately sacrificed when she became a demon. She didn’t find this out until three months after she started working for Slender. While she was angry at the time, she understood his choice, seeing as for the baby to live, it would become a demon as well and not age. So she would be stuck permanently with a baby that can’t fend for itself.

#creepypasta #creepypastaoc #demon

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