Jun 9
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“The shadows almost protect you from having to see it— him. Of having to see him. He looms over you, swaying like a wicker man, hair disheveled and face gaunt in the dim light afforded by the moon. He drops one hand down to the mattress beside your head and leans in close, the other coming up to wipe the wriggling creature off your cheek. You expect it to be cold. It’s worse than that — it’s warm.”
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Fennel has two things in spades: resolve, and nightmares.
body horror and maggots for dinner again ! ^v^
