The Living Stay Buried (A DBD AU).
Inspired by this post (that I made):
So, what if I told that that I was crafting an AU I may or may not have a pinterest board for where DBD is set in a Catholic boarding school
TRIGGER WARNING: Burying someone alive, implied abuse, implied reactive abuse, mentions of drinking, just a lot of stuff that is not for the faint of heart so if you don’t like that, I would suggest skipping now. Like, right now.
This drabble is based off an AU I had that is linked to the post above. If you have any questions about it, comment section and my DMS are open. This is kinda like a test drive before I write the full fic but here we go.
—
The last thing David remembered before the darkness he was surrounded by and the ringing in his ears is that he had turned his back on Crystal for just a moment. He didn’t even hit her that hard, she always had a habit of being so dramatic about everything.
He had turned for just a second, and she hit him in the back of his head. With what? He doesn’t know. It was something blunt. Of course she’d do this, she was always such a crazy bitch. And once upon a time, he actually found that attractive about her.
And as the ringing in his ears start to subside, he could hear the voices of…girls? His eyes start to dart around where he is — judging by the lights he could vaguely see over the fabric over his eyes, and the carpet of the cramped space of where he lied in a fetal position (tied up at that? what the hell?? His wrists and ankles were zip tied before the rest of his body was tied down in harsh rope and his mouth was duct taped—what the fuck was this?) he could guess it was the back of a trunk.
Did Crystal seriously throw him in the back of a trunk? Crystal of all people? Did she actually just kidnap him?
Before he could even began to ask more questions and even ponder a way to get out, the trunk door open and the blindfold that shrouded his vision was pulled up and he was met a girl. Not Crystal. A girl with white hair and dark roots in a ponytail, monolid wide eyes and heart shaped sunglasses and way too many bright colors for him to be subjected to. She looked just as surprised to see him as he was as freaked out to see her.
“Oh. You’re awake.” She says, before turning her head past the trunk, “Edith! He’s awake!” And like clockwork, he heard boots against gravel, and for a minute — he was so in shock of not only Crystal’s audacity but the lengths she would go that he didn’t even begin to struggle. Not at first. But as soon as the next girl came — all dark hair in a perfect braid, turtlenecks and sweater vests and trench coats and a detached curiosity in her eye — he started to pull at his wrists and struggle against the duct tape.
That’s when the white-haired girl had stopped him, stilling him with a rather tight hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s pointless, anyway.” Her voice was casual despite the circumstances they were in as she pulled her hand away, not very subtly wiping it down on her turtleneck. “That rope is very, very strong. My grandfather used to use it to tie down cows, for slaughter.”
The girl with the braid, (whom he could assume was Edith), crossed her arms. “Hello there.” Her voice was posh, a clipped British accent. “Judging by your unseemingly face, I can only assume you must very confused. But that is alright. Because in around 30 minutes, if Charlotte would stop dallying,” Her voice went louder, eyes going to someone behind her before turning back to David, “That is going to be the least of your problems.”
It was then David picked up on the sound far, far in front of him. The rhythmic sound of a shovel hitting the ground.
“Come along, Niko,” Edith said, holding out a hand, that the white-haired girl (Niko?) took with a smile. And David didn’t miss the very pointed looks of disgust they both gave him before walking away together, before he heard more footsteps and another girl walked into his line of sight before he could even begin to see what was going on.
“Hello, mate.” This girl had a bit more shades of brown to her skin, but was still light in the headlights of the car. Her hair was curly, but almost buzzed on both sides — a grown out mohawk. She wore a red polo shirt, golden chain gleaming in the light with a dark pleated skirt and fishnets and knee socks. Her hands and face were smudged with dirt, and her smile was anything but welcoming.
“You know, I told Crystal that this was a bad idea. I didn’t like the idea of her going near you. Since you like to roughhouse girls. I still don’t. But honestly? This went about way better than I expected. Here I was thinking I’d have to kill you” She said with a soft chuckle, leaning on the side of the trunk. “I never planned on spending my time doing this for my Saturday night but — hey, the things we do for friends, am I right?”
Then she laughed, almost like she forgot something. “Sorry. Why I am talking to you about this? Given what a proper cunt I’ve heard you to be, I would assume you don’t have any friends.” Then, her smile dropped. The air got colder. Would David be a pussy to say that the first time he actually experiences fear is with that look in that girl’s eyes? Or her tone as she says, “And you never will.”
She got closer, hands curling around where she was just leaning casually, “You made a big mistake fucking with Crystal. You made even bigger one by thinking that she or us wouldn’t do anything about it. But that’s alright. Because tonight? We’re making it right again.”
“Charlotte!” A voice called (he knows that voice? the fear melts to pure hatred as he hears that fucking voice) and the girl turned, “It’s ready now.” Charlotte gave one last look to him, scoffed and stepped aside. And then, one by one — they all lined up. Charlotte, Edith, Niko and then, Crystal in the middle of them with a smile. David remembers seeing that smile as she got a kick out of telling someone bad news or when she had done something particularly devious.
It’s never funny, when the shoes on the other foot.
She leaned down — in nothing but an off-shoulder purple lace shirt, dark jeans and a black overcoat with fur. Her hair done in almost a lazy updo bun, brown roots melting to ginger hair. “Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen,” Crystal began, “We are gonna to put you in a hole over there,” She pointed behind her, and David say the hole and the four shovels near it, “Over there. Freshly dug, just for you. And once we get done burying you, I’m gonna plant some flowers on top of your grave and me and my friends gonna go to bed before our curfew starts. Maybe even have a celebratory drinking session.”
Right. She was in boarding school, her parents sent her. Some shit about her needing to be “set right” so they sent her to a school for troubled girls. The same girls she somehow managed to befriend and convince to bury him in a goddamn hole — does nobody here see how insane that sounds?
“You know, if reincarnation is real, maybe you should be born as a mouse in your next life.” Niko said, almost like it was an after thought—like she was pondering the possibility, “Since you like to put your shit everywhere.”
That sparked smiles and even an outright laugh from Charlotte, as David watched with wide eyes. Full of disbelief, anger, and fear. Oh, so much fear. Crystal almost forgot why she used to get a kick out of this in the first place, especially in the instance this is.
“I told you, David,” She said sweetly, “I didn’t need to kill you when I could just bury you. And yeah, maybe this is excessive and takes a little more planning and effort but — it’s way more fun.” Crystal giggled as she leaned closer and said, “You of all people should know about that. Okay?” Her voice took on a rougher tone, “Say hi to my grandma for me. See you in the next life, asshole.” The blindfold was sharply pulled back on him. Then, darkness.
Even between burying an actively wiggling 6’2 man and still managing to make it in time for dorm room check-ins, the janitor that roamed outside did notice a more peculiar patch of flowers near the wooded area. Black roses and Black Eyed Susans, side by side, contrasting against the fallen leaves and wildflowers and weeds that typically grew along that area.
But in St. Lilith’s School for Troubled Girls, women like her have seen stranger things. And even more puzzling and weird girls. She just clicks her tongue, sigh and continue with picking up the trash along the ground.
—
Also, I was listening to Intro ||| by NF while I wrote this. I love girls getting revenge. I love women being batshit insane. I missed writing drabbles for niche AU’s so much. If you guys want more content like this, just lmk!
— andy.
