#badtrip;

[hallucineugenics-a]

@the-dimitrescu-seamstress​ sent:  ❀  Your muse has an unpleasant trip from Donna’s garden.

Hallucineugenics ; Permanent Meme Call // Always Accepting!

It had been, as it ever was, a task bidden by her Lord. Dimitrescu desired a specific tacking thread. A thread that so happened to be in the possession of her recluse sister. Magdalena‘s safety had been assured. Lord Donna Beneviento was quite mad by all accounts but she was not stupid. To attack her sister’s servant would not go down honeylike. And so, Magda’s trek had been a relatively uneventful one. Her eyes having little to settle upon beyond hangmen dolls and drooping branches heavy with snow.

She had passed through the forest and had made her way to the mountainous incline when a shadow, tall and warbled, draped over her form. Magda spun on her heel, jaw falling agape at the sight she saw.

 It was Alcina and yet, somehow, against all logic, she was here. Hemmed skirt spattered with dirt and grass stains. In fact, her pearlescent dress seemed entirely putrid. Pearl beading hanged loose like fishing sinkers. Little specks of mold spores and the rippled, yellowed edges of sweat peppered the bodice and ran downwards like water damaged wallpaper. The smell was horrendous. A choking, floral, sticky sensation that clung to the back of the throat like phlegm. 

“C-Countess, what are you doing here?”

Alcina sneered terribly, cherry lips pulled back to reveal yellowing teeth. She reached for Magda, clawed, unkind if not downright murderous.

“HOW DARE YOU!” The Lord bellowed, a great gloved fist snatching the woman about the throat and hoisting her into the air. 

“You made me a fool in this HIDEOUS garment.”

As if on cue, the seams in her sleeve burst open, slick sweaty flesh beneath bulging.

“If you so much as THINK for a moment that you will not pay with your worthless life, you are STUPIDLY incorrect.”

Magda was hurtled into the dirt with punishing force, air squeezed out her lips in a wordless scream. She had little chance to squirm away as a fist grasped about her ankle and dragged her howling back toward Dimitrescu castle, clawed hands catching at nothing but twigs and rocks.

“Feel every little piece of gravel you disgusting swine. It will be the last joys you have before I FLAY your skin clean from your body. I will make a fine PURSE from your hide, Magdalena.”

[hallucineugenics-a]

@warphotoss​ sent: ❀

Put A  ❀ In My Inbox And I’ll Give Your Muse An Unpleasant Trip From Donna’s Garden // Accepting!

Pristine loafers trudged through slushy undergrowth, tracing a peculiar art piece that had caught the photographer’s eye. Dolls, exquisite in the craft, hanged from twine from the overarching branches above the winter path. Though they were speckled with a dusting of snow, they lacked the crusting of dirt to show that they were neglected on this lonely path. Someone, or perhaps, something, had been tending to their flock.

Stefano snapped a picture with practiced ease and could not help but slink his way deeper into Beneviento territory. Trees yawned with the groans of their ancient wood and stooped over like old men, leaves long shrivelled by autumn chills. Their twigs fingerlike in their reaching for the earth. Stefano could appreciate the stark beauty of their hibernation and crouched to snap more pictures of the twisted foliage. A sickly floral fragrance brushed against his nose as he swivelled to take another picture, a sudden flash of light to his right making the photographer stumble to one knee. He cursed under his breath, lamenting the darkening grass stain that marred his suit.

Cautiously, Stefano rose and brought his camera slowly to the right, wielding it like a weapon, and click. FLASH. The mirrored ping of light near blinded his good eye. He grunted and brought his arm up, expecting a stab of pain that never came. Something was in these decrepit woods. It was hunting him. Involuntary panic tightened at his throat and he rose to his feet and braced against a fallen log. Great explosions in the distance boomed with artillery force. BANG. BANG. BANG. Birds whose song never touched his ears fled from toppling trees. The smell was spent shells. The taste was blood drenched mud. The sight was flash, flash, flash of muzzles exploding with deadly efficiency. This was impossible. He was in peaceful rural Romania. Not. Not a warzone. 

Stefano was screaming now though the high pitched whine in his ears dimmed all sound to ringing. Biting. Scratching. Clawing. Anything to stop it. Anything to get away. An explosion mere yards away buried him beneath an avalanche of mud and snow. 

His pounding heart slowed as he could only assume the cold embrace of death was taking him. The singular eye rolled into half lidded unconsciousness. Stefano could never have noticed the twin shuffling of feet as a figure leaned over his prone form. Hm. Curious. The intruder would be dragged back to the Beneviento estate for examination. If only to turn his clothing into future reference for sewing patterns. 

[hallucineugenics-a]

@noonegetsleftbehind​ sent: ❀

Put A  ❀ In My Inbox And I’ll Give Your Muse An Unpleasant Trip From Donna’s Garden // Accepting!

The acrid taste of gunpowder mingled with addictive nicotine as Chris took a deep drag from his cigarette. He told himself they were not a crutch but they sure as hell took the edge off his sleep deprived senses. His bleary eyes had started to droop and he rubbed at them with the pad of his gloved thumb. There was no time to rest when Miranda, and, more alarmingly, Ethan, were still on the loose. He sighed deeply and took a final puff of the cigarette before stamping it out under his heavy heel, the fresh scatter of snow crunching. 

The air had grown thick as molasses as he passed the border of the suspension bridge and ventured deeper into Beneviento territory. It was intelligence that Chris sought. Any weakness he could siphon about the megamycete or Miranda’s intentions beyond the Village would be just as powerful as any weapon. He had his doubts that this Lord would, or even, COULD, provide this knowledge. Anything was worth a try. 

The scattering of hangmen dolls confirmed he was on the correct path as Chris moved silently through the knotted undergrowth. He had to pause twice to paw at his rheumy eyes and a third to shake his head clear of this exhaustion that seemed to squeeze his head like a vice. It was stupidity to continue and he found himself seated on a thick, crooked tree root. What a strange shape it was. The deep curve a perfect support for his lower back and aching shoulders as he leaned against it in gentle recline. Snowflakes dotted his skin and hair lazily and the suffocating atmosphere felt as though it were pulling the very air from his lungs. He should have been alarmed and yet... he was not. Apathy had swallowed him whole. 

Chris tried to reach for the wicked karambit blade at his hip but his fingers moved at slow motion pace. He could barely groan as, little by little, snow thickened over his prone form. Any attempt at rising was like fighting the pressure of the mariana trench itself. He was being buried alive and could do naught but watch behind his slitted eyelids. The bead in his ear was squealing. Desperate pleas of those under his command. His protection. They were greeted with mute silence. His vision was gone now, sunken beneath a prison of ice. Blind to all and invisible to others. It was peaceful in a way. The peace of deep ocean. Perhaps now Chris could find his rest. 

[hallucineugenics-a]

❀ from the Duke fuck him UP miss donna

Put a  ❀ in my inbox and I’ll give your muse an unpleasant trip from Donna’s garden // accepting !!

Heaviness beyond that of the Duke’s physical size seeped upwards from the tips of his toes. A leaden, sagging, concrete sensation that would drag sailors to their doom. Not even his faithful old companion, the antique caravan, could reassure the Duke of its stability. The spoked wheels yawned and buckled as if their make was of soft rubber.  

Voices, everywhere and nowhere, called his name. Tongues spoken in ages of ancients wrestled to be heard over those who had yet to be conceived. Duke had arrive too late. Or, perhaps, too early? Time had stretched into the thinnest elastic and SNAPPED. There was no Lord’s estate. No Village. The ancestors of these despoiled creations had yet to migrate across the tundra and squabble over deeds and plots. Their children crowded him still as the Duke sank onto the hardened crust of topsoil, his caravan crumbling to pieces about him. They clutched to his great stone form. Begging. Crying. Dark haired, high cheek boned, mournful Benevientos. He could fix things. Change the cruel knife plunge of fate. Save their family from the ruination that all would succumb to. 

Sensation was slipping away. No warm earth, no pungent florals, no gritty bitterness on the tongue. It was all solidifying into a singular, fixed gaze. All was stone and dust and the Duke could do naught but watch, his form glorious in carved pristine marble. How long would he remain before practiced hands could wipe the spittle from his chin and rouse him into the cold wintery reality? 

[hallucineugenics-a]

❀!!

//bring on the bad trip, I wanna see him suffer lmao

Put a  ❀ in my inbox and I’ll give your muse an unpleasant trip from Donna’s garden // accepting !!

Heisenberg absently twisted shards of metal in the air as he hummed a jaunty tune, flexing his power as a mortal might a muscle. Snow crunched under his industrial boots as he followed the winding path to visit a less than beloved sister. He did not hate Donna. No, he just pitied the wretched thing. In a dog eat dog world, it was little wonder that the Beneviento house had wilted under the pressure. They were prone to bouts of depression and hysteria and Donna was no exception. The Caduo had not only cracked her skull but her fragile mind too, splitting some small piece off into that horrible little shit doll of hers. Angie was its name. The thought made him scoff. Playing house with a doll all day while his genius reforged the miracle of life. Some were just luckier than others he supposed. 

Ducking under a loosely hanging doll, a gentle clicking gave Heisenberg pause. He straightened, fingers curling around the haft of his mountainous hammer in anticipation. Another click. And another. He exhaled a smokey breath through grit teeth. The sound was growing in frequency like the pitter patter of rain. Click. Click. Click. 

Someone, or maybe something, was gently tugging at him. Not in the physical sense as Heisenberg was alone on the wintery path. No, it was the electric pull of a stronger magnet. His metallic flakes were dropping to the sodden earth like flies. Impossible. 

“Obey me fucker!” Heisenberg roared and crashed his great hammer into the ground. It had felt somehow heavier in his grip. As if his command over the steel had waned before dimming like a snuffed flame. His right knee buckled into the dirt as the rivets popped free of his boots and crinkled like styrofoam. Next was his belt buckle, then his jacket’s buttons, his dog tags before finally the frame of his dark spectacles yanked free from his face. He made to snatch them but the metal turned to liquid at his touch. 

Reality bubbled suddenly to Heisenberg’s left, a looming dark shape staring down at the Lord of Metal piteously. It was Donna Beneviento. Iron ran as if molten in a sluggish ring above her skull. A halo of mercury. Angie danced at her Master’s feet, screaming endless laughter at Heisenberg’s expense and clapping at the gentle rain of steel.   

Donna shifted her veil to glare down at her faux brother with her singular good eye. It wept with mirth as she drawled her cutting words through a grin. 

“What a worthless Lord you are. Mother Miranda wasted her gifts on you. What ever shall we do with you now that your Caduo rots away in your body?”

[hallucineugenics-a]

❀

Put a  ❀ in my inbox and I’ll give your muse an unpleasant trip from Donna’s garden // accepting !!

Ever since leaving the lycan infested village, the radio pinned to Chris' broad chest had been sputtering static and intermingled clicks. He had paused beneath a looming oak tree to fiddle with the dials and input but to no avail. 

"Alpha team, do you copy? I repeat, Alpha team, do you copy?”

Nothing. 

“Piece of shit” Chris seethed between grit teeth. Military training had taught him that isolation was the quickest way to get yourself killed. Chris could handle the Lycan but he knew larger and more fearsome hunters stalked these doll lined forested canopies. 

Ducking beneath a low hanging branch, the bead in his ear clicked to life and warbled with stretched voices. Layered over one another it was difficult to determine who was on the other end of the line. Chris jammed a his index finger against the bead and fixed his gaze on the carpet of snow at his boots, tracing a shape that jutted rocklike in the earth. 

“Reeeeed-” His radio yapped, tone desperate despite its warped channel. “Redfield... US- HELP... overrun... DEAD- KENNEDY... too late.”

Chris swallowed thickly as a shiver that was not from the cold ran down his spine. Beneath a scattering of leaves by his right boot, a barely distinct logo caught his eye.

S. T. A. R. S.

The flack vest was a frozen stone as Chris fell to his knees and scratched frantically at its outline, finding an arm and head. The body was so cold against his gloved hands that it had to have been here for days, weeks even. 

Chris rose to his feet in panic and turn this way and that, desperately searching for help in this desolate waste. A doll that had waved solemnly in the breeze three feet away was not a doll at all. The severed arm clawlike in rigor mortis and adorned with a familiar watch that was awarded to all recruits upon graduation. 

Still the radio screeched as the forest of bodies became clear through the misted trees. Their faces frozen in terror as they stared at Chris accusingly. 

“LET... US... DIE- WHERE? HELP. ALPHA TEAM? DO YOU COPY? CHRIS. HELP!”

[hallucineugenics-a]

❀

Put a  ❀ in my inbox and I’ll give your muse an unpleasant trip from Donna’s garden // accepting !!

The trek to the Beneviento estate had been surprisingly smooth. Ethan hadn’t seen a single lycan nor any other foul mutant that crept around the village. Perhaps the creepy doll decorations warded them away? Duke’s caution still rang clear in his head. None of her playmates have ever come back from that dank, old estate. After the Dimitrescu ordeal it was hard to believe things could get any worse. 

Passing through the wide open gates, Ethan found the front doors unlocked and entered with caution, clearing his throat of the dust that so clung to every surface. The foyer was tidy. Inviting even. And just as barren of life as the outside was. No sign of the Lady Beneviento anywhere. He doubted that the Duke would lie to him so but the emptiness of this place made him sweat.

The doors closed behind him with a soft click and Ethan turned to test the handle. Shit. Locked. 

Almost instantly, a wave of nausea hit Ethan with such force that it bent him double. The stench. A scent so horrendously familiar that it made his eyes water. Damp, water damaged wallpaper. Filthy dishes left to stagnate in the sink. Unwashed bodies. Gore. The Baker family. 

Instinct sent Ethan lurching, pounding at the door with such ferocity he might have broken the bones in his good hand. A voice boomed from behind him, the thick commanding drawl unmistakable.  

“Well LOOKEE here. Decided you’d join us for supper, huh son? I thought you’d gone and flaked on us.” 

Hands thick from labour grasped both his ankles and dragged him deeper into the Beneviento... no... Baker home. Ethan tried to kick and claw at something, anything, for purchase but the man’s iron grip did not waiver. He might as well have been fighting against a hurricane. Ethan’s captor dropped him abruptly and he was roughly lifted by the scruff of his neck like an abused animal before being shoved into a chair. 

Seated to his right was Marguerite, then Lucas and finally Evie. They bared their yellow teeth in feral grins as Lucas chiselled into the dinner table with his butter knife, his eyes wide with some insane frenzy. Ethan wanted to scream. To flee. To fight. It was if the lights were on but nobody was home. His body a ragdoll so much like those hanging in the trees outside. He slumped in the chair lazily and groaned some plea for relief. 

“Oh sweetie, how I’ve missed you.” Crooned Marguerite as she tussled Ethan’s sweat plastered hair with the gentle fondness of a grandmother.  

“We’re a family, remember boy? This is your baptism. Don’t you DARE leave us again.” Jack’s bespectacled face slid into the corner of Ethan’s view, wild with glee and knife in hand just like he had three years ago. The knife drove between Ethan’s teeth to a chorus of hysterical laughter. A circus at Ethan’s behest. All he could do was loll his head and think of Rose.

[hallucineugenics-a]

❀ (For Leon)

Put a  ❀ in my inbox and I’ll give your muse an unpleasant trip from Donna’s garden // accepting !!

A strange sourness hit Leon’s nose as he stalked through the doll haunted woods, his breath frosting in the cold air. It was a familiar scent. A faithful companion. Liquor? That’s impossible. His combing search of the forest outlying the Village had turned up nothing. No homesteads. No dwellings. Not even a foxhole that a mutant could squeeze into. Only dolls hanged like criminals from gnarled tree branches, their empty socketed eyes seeming to watch his every move. 

A sudden snap of twigs drew his attention and Leon whipped around to his left, whirlwind fast and weapon drawn. The smiling face that greeted him made his stomach drop.

“Leon! I have missed you so much.” Ashley Graham gushed, face split wide and eyes crinkled with a pearly tooth grin. She grasped white knuckled onto a tree trunk, free arm waving in delighted greeting. The shock of her tangerine sweater and plaid green skirt against the vast blanket of black and white made Leon’s eyes sting. Not so much as the pungent alcohol scent of her breath. 

“You... You can’t be real.” Leon choked, viciously rubbing away the fatigue from his eyes with the back of his hand. As if Ashley’s grinning form were a smudge one could wipe away from dirty glasses. 

“What are you talking about, silly?” She scoffed and gestured for him to approach with a languid flick of her wrist. “I’m as real as that fucking mountain of bodies you’ve left behind.” 

Her smile didn’t falter as her body began to disintegrate. Skin peeled off in the thinnest of layers and blown away in the wind like leaves on an autumn night. Leon scrambled forward, his weapon discarded, and clawed at Ashley’s silhouette, hands grappling at nothing but air. 

The shape scoffed, disgusted, and fizzled and popped like alcoholic fumes. 

“How can you live with yourself Leon?”