Hey. I was wondering if you like doing magic whump? EPIC has been my brain rot recently and Scylla is hands down one of my favorite Greek myths. Go nuts.
Hello, friend! I am 100% getting into magic whump and fantasy whump these days. And I can absolutely write this for you. Fun fact: I had to translate the Aeneid, Illiad, and Oddyssey when I was in high school, so I am very familiar with the Scylla and friends. (for some reason I know she is female, but i seem to recall when we were translating it was very important to call her the scylla, but i cannot for the life of me recall why)
This is my interpretation of one of the many origin stories of the Scylla. Please enjoy!
Warnings: jealousy, magic, transformation, body modification, heart break
Whumper hated Whumpee. Hated Whumpee because Whumpee was so beautiful. Hated Whumpee because they were so fair. Hated Whumpee because they were so beloved. And hated Whumpee because they were the object of Lover's affections.
Lover should have been with Whumper. Whumper was beautiful. Whumper was powerful. Whumper could make Lover so happy. But Lover scorned Whumper and chose Whumpee.
And so now Whumpee had to pay for their crimes. Whumpee would suffer. Whumpee would no longer be beautiful. Would no longer be fair. Would no longer be beloved. Would no longer be the object of anyone's affections, especially Lover's.
Whumpee would be ugly. Whumpee would be terrible. Whumpee would be cursed. And Whumpee would be hated.
Whumper called upon their power, drawing up all the magic they possessed to place Whumpee under a curse. They summoned their magic to turn Whumpee ugly, to make Whumpee monstrous. To turn their fair beauty into twisted evil.
They heard Whumpee slip into the sea to bathe as they did every day. Now was their time. Whumper loosed the spell forever binding Whumpee to live in the rock they sat on. To become a monstrous being, forever hungry and unsatisfied. Whumpee's beauty turned monstrous as dogs grew from their legs. Their fair, noble heart turned cold as the evil took route inside them. And their love for Lover fade as they became all consumed with their insatiable hunger.
Whumper would have Lover now. Whumper would be the object of Lover's affections. All would be right in the world. And all the adventurers throughout the land would seek to slay Whumpee. Whumpee would tortured and hunted for centuries all the while doing terrible, terrible things. Whumper had their victory.
This one is rather light. Tw for captivity, kidnapping, and curses/questionable use of magic.
He deals in mystery. You seem to have fallen into it. He doesn’t mean it to be so strange, though.
It must be a fae thing. That’s the only plausible explanation you could come up with as you stared at the cieling of the lavish room Silver deposited you in upon your hazy arrival. You couldn’t figure out how and why you’d been brought here, and every time you tried to remember, you’d suffer a horrible headache.
For most of your visit, you’ve been gifted clothing that fits perfectly, but your clothes, the ones you arrived in, seem to be cursed, always squirming away from your skin like worms or bugs or something. The door to your room has been locked from the outside, and your food and drink simply appears, like magic.
Yes, a lot of things are like magic, like the way Malleus appears sometimes at the foot of your bed on the nights you can’t quite sleep. He’s the only one who visits, really, and his eyes glow in the night. Nights in Briar Valley are so dark and silent, aside from the occasional noise that he assures you is an animal.
He watches you do plenty of things, like when you get up and move around, dancing with no choreography or music because you have to move or else you’ll turn to dust or something. He watches you as you blabber on about something, and then that thing will be gifted to you on his next visit. He watches as you stare out the narrow castle window, sticking your head as far out as you can just to get a whiff of fresh air.
Sometimes, you make eye contact, and he smiles. His eyes draw you in and you find yourself drowing in those verdant pools of mystery. What has he seen? What will he look at? They’re one of his most striking features, and yet they fit him so well.
Most recently, he brought a giant victrola with him. He set it up and offered you a hand to dance, so you don’t turn to dust. You accepted, of course, boredom taking over any sense, and yet, as he spun you around the room, you couldn’t help but wonder how and why you were here.
How am I supposed to react to a friend of mine writing a story about schizophrenia? She’s using the “character doesn’t actually have schizophrenia, they can just see magic/the voices are just a ghost or demon” trope and I tried to explain to her that it’s really damaging and she got really mad.
Ive been too busy to answer this, but my wonderful pal Nick said i could use it's answer: "as a psychotic person, we are often told by others that our experiences are spiritual, magical, or mystical in some fashion. this may feed into our delusions and stop us from getting the help we need. additionally, it drives people away from accepting psychosis as it really is -- a mental illness. some of it may be spiritual in nature, but to paint someone's experiences that way, especially if you have not experienced them yourself, ties back into negative perceptions about psychosis. it's easy to want to reduce psychosis to mysticism. it's easier to think about that way. but it is scary, and weird, and most importantly, painful for the people who experience it. writing a character like this does not liberate those affected by these mental disorders. in fact, it actively regresses it into making psychosis digestible and, again, driving psychotic people away from the help they need. rather than writing a character who's spirituality was misinterpreted as and mirrors psychosis, it'd be much more effective to write a character who is purely a spiritual person. in fact, doing so that way may result in more psychotic people feeling seen by your writing, which may be unhealthy but is also a highly relatable experience for many of us. including that your character is perceived as psychotic is a really tricky scenario to write when you haven't been in those shoes, and my suggestion is that if they choose to proceed in that fashion, to at least reach out to psychotic people about our experiences to get that right. im okay with tropes where it's like "person is experiencing things and others don't believe them", but to specifically name it as schizophrenia and then deviate from that for shock value is painful and shouldn't be done by anyone who is not psychotic"
Could I request a crossover between your fictional universe and the Anita Blake series, with Grace and Toby being taught by Anita and Edward? Much appreciated :3
Well I don't know about being taught, but they can have a nice bonding experience over fire, flames, and body parts 😌 (This is a paid commission, but one I enjoyed very much)
Word Count: 6, 837
TW: firefight, zombies, magic, corpses, body horror, pyromania, gore
💖
I woke slowly, enveloped in warmth. As I moved, I felt a warm body curl in around me and pull me closer with an arm around my waist. Toby. He'd come in from a lengthy surveillance mission and I'd met him at our rooms in Slender Mansion. We always spent the first weekend after a mission at the mansion, just in case Slendy had any last minute missions he needed Toby to address. I cuddled into Toby, unsure what had woken me up, but content to fall back to sleep to Toby's quiet snores.
A quiet knock sounded from the closet door and my eyes snapped open. The autumn colored room was barely illuminated by the light let in by the cracked bedroom door, necessary for me after many stubbed toes. When Toby slept here alone, he could navigate the entire suite in perfect darkness, a leftover from when his eyes were riddled with cataracts.
"Grace?" A voice asked quietly. It was Myra, one of Slendy's proxies who tended to the mansion, rather than work in the field. She knocked again, and I struggled against Toby's arms to sit up. He fought me for a moment, trying to pull me closer, but once I sat up, he just snuggled his head into my stomach with his arms wrapped around my waist. I turned on the bedside lamp and said, "Come in, Myra."
The door to the closet opened and Myra stepped through. She was a small, sullen woman, maybe twenty one years old. Her face was almost pixie like and framed by straight dark brown hair. She walked up to the bed and produced an envelope from her hoodie pocket. "Tommy was supposed to bring you this, but he's dealing with something in the greenhouses. So I told him I'd bring it to you."
Myra, never one for small talk, retreated back to the closet door. She opened it, but looked back for a moment, pausing. "Be careful. Tommy seemed really worried about it."
Toby rolled over, letting out a particularly loud snore, and I nodded to Myra. "Tell him I said we'll be safe."
Myra smiled, quick, gone in an instant. But in that instant, the sullen lines of her face gave way to a radiant beauty. I saw in that instant why Tommy, my surrogate little brother, was crazy for her, and I was happy they could be together. After that brief, bright expression, Myra turned and passed through a doorway that meant nothing, her destination in mind.
I turned my attention to Toby. He was laying on his side, facing away from me, still out like a light. His chestnut hair was covering his face, having grown out to his shoulders. He had only let me cut his bangs to keep it out of his eyes, but mostly kept it pulled back in a ponytail unless he was showering or sleeping. When I moved it out of his face, I was greeted by his thin, angular face, relaxed in sleep with a little drool around the gash in his cheek from an old tic that involved chewing on the inside of his cheek. For a normal person, the tic would have only caused scarring to the inside of the cheek. But Toby wasn't normal. He has CIP, congenital insisitivity to pain. Add Tourette's syndrome, bipolar disorder, and schizophrenia with cPTSD, and you get the perfect vessel to be Slenderman's head proxy. With that title, came a collection of battle scars, which were revealed slowly as I pulled the blankets away from him.
"Toby" I said softly, molding myself to the back of his body, "Toby wake up."
Toby's face screwed up in displeasure of being woken up and he hummed in his sleep as he felt me holding him. He sighed and relaxed again, not even near awake.
"Toby!" I said, louder this time, and he jerked awake, eyes suddenly open and alert.
"What's wrong?" he asked, rolling onto his back so he could see me. His face was worried, brows raised so his eyes studied me, trying to figure out why I'd woken him up so abruptly.
I smiled at him and looked into his honey brown eyes. We'd finally gotten the time to find a doctor and his Toby's cataracts fixed. He was an excellent fighter before, relying on his other senses. Now with his vision restored, Toby was a force to be reckoned with.
"Nothing's wrong" I laughed, "Myra just dropped this off." I handed him the envelope and he sat up to see it in the light.
Toby took it and popped the seal loose from the paper, "I'll bet Tommy was worried, right?"
"Always" I said as Toby pulled the contents of the envelope out. There was a photograph, it looked like a yearbook picture. Depicted was a surly looking boy, maybe fifteen years old. His black hair was cropped close to his head, in a rough brush cut, and he seemed too small for his clothes, which were worn, obviously handmedowns. Sharp, grey eyes looked out, squinting at the camera from a pinched, triangular face. Toby flipped the picture over.
'Paul Gray, 16, Denver, CO' followed by a yellow X. Caution.
"Hmm. I wonder what this kid can do that calls for more caution that usual" I mused as Toby flipped the picture back over to study Paul Gray, 16.
Toby yawned, stretching with the picture still in one hand as he lifted his arms above his head. "Dunno, but we'll find out, I'm sure." He got out of bed and crossed the room to the bathroom and I got out of bed too, heading to the dressers. As I picked out today's clothes, I heard Toby start the shower, so I took my time packing a bag of our weapons and supplies I thought we might need. Water bottles, extra ammo, an extra gun and clips, med kit, spare clothes, gloves... Slenderman had said to be cautious, and that's what we would be.
"Shower's still running" Toby said from behind me and I turned to find him half dressed, brushing his hair, "Water's still hot, too. We can grab something to eat on the way out." He was in work mode, ready to get everything over with so he could have some much deserved down time. He pulled a black turtleneck from the dresser and shrugged it on.
Toby pullled me to him as I passed and I turned my face up for a kiss. He ducked his head down and brushed my lips with his as he trailed scarred fingertips along my cheek. We lingered that way for a few moments, just enjoying the closeness, and then Toby pulled away, kissing my forehead as he straightened, "Water's gonna get cold if you don't hurry." He gave me a playful push on the shoulder as I turned towards the bathroom door, clothes in my arms. I heard Toby heft our bag up on his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen and I entered the steamy warmth of the bathroom. I took a quick shower and got ready for the day, but couldn't find the hairbrush. Then I remembered that Toby had taken it with him to the dresser. I found it there and left our rooms for the kitchen, where Toby would no doubt be, if only for the coffee.
I found him exactly there, sitting at the table, waiting on coffee. The picture of Paul Gray laid in front of him on the table and Toby was staring at it, making it seem as if Toby and Paul were having a staring competition.
When I walked into the kitchen, Toby pulled out of his reverie. The coffee pot finished making and I pulled a mug down and filled it, handing it to Toby. He took it and together we made a quick breakfast, just eggs and toast. Toby retrieved his hatchets from the bag and strapped them to his back, then put on his signature brown and blue hoodie. His jeans were, like mine, black, and I pulled a black hoodie over my head to cover the holster and gun that I wore across my torso. I hoped I wouldn't need it or any of the other things in the bag that Toby carried on his shoulder.
When we went through the kitchen door again, we didn't come out anywhere in the mansion. Toby had grabbed my hand and pulled my with him through the void and we came out of the doorway of an abandoned building.
The sounds of the city were all around us, and I assumed were were somewhere in Denver, since Toby had used Paul Gray's photograph as a focus for this trip. Sure enough, Paul Gray walked past us as we came down the steps of the building behind us. We hung back a little and then followed him.
Toby kept a tight grip on my left and as we walked. This was perfect, as I was right hand dominant and Toby was left handed. It meant that both o our weapon hands were free if we needed them, but we could still hold hands like a normal couple. I had my gun set of a cross draw and if you looked close enough, you could just barely see the ends of Toby's hatchets peeking over his shoulders, close to his neck.
We followed Paul Gray all over the area, stopping at stores and random houses and apartment buildings. He really just seemed like your bormal misfit kid. Dressed in handmedown clothes that didn't fit him well, and didn't seem warm enough, only a hoodie and jeans with sneakers.
About halfway through the day, I started getting a headache, which made Toby concerned. The last time he'd seen me anywhere near sick was when Toby and I had first met at the asylum, but that had only been due to Slenderman's influence.
"Grace, do you need to go home?" Toby asked with worried eyes. We were waiting outside of a house on the outskirts of town.
I shook my head, closing my eyes or a moment. It didn't help, so I opened them again. "No... it's just weird that my head is hurting at all. It feels like when Slenderman was coming for you at the asylum, building."
Toby's head cocked and his gaze went far away. Someone was speaking to him. I waited until Toby came back to himself with a full body twitch.
"I think I know what's happening" Toby said, reaching over for my hand. I gave it to him. "Slenderman decided to let me know this kid is powerful, that much he knows." Toby caught a tendril of hair that had come loose from his ponytail and tucked it behind his ear. "Problem is, that's all He knows. The kid's a question mark Slendy doesn't know what kind of power he has, and that's why we're supposed to be cautious. I think you're picking up on his power just like you did Slendy's that night."
I nodded, "That makes sense." I put my elbows on my knees and bowed my head so I could reach my temples and started rubbing. I felt Toby's hand on my back, rubbing slow comforting circles. I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, Toby was gently shaking me.
"We need to move, sweetness" Toby said, gently shaking my arm, "Paul just left."
Thirty minutes later, Toby and I were posted up behind a tall monument, and Paul Gray was hosting a get together in a cemetery on the edge of town.
He sat on a medium height tombstone, watching as his friends smoked and drank while music pumped from a car with open doors. The pressure in the air had not relented, and in fact was still squeezing the air around me, increasing its grip as the sun started its decline in the sky. Neither Toby nor I knew what was going on, but it was getting stronger as night grew closer. I wasn't sure if I wanted to see why, but was sure I would anyway.
As the evening progressed, people came and went from Paul Gray's gathering. The kid himself seemed to start feeling agitated within the last hour and had started clearing people out until only a bare few remained. He was talking to them, his already pinched face even moreso now. I wiped tears from my eyes and as I leaned against the monument that concealed Toby and I.
"You okay, Gracie?" Toby asked and I looked at him to see worried eyes. He took my hand and rubbed his thumb against the top of it.
I nodded, blinking against the pressure in my head. I felt like Paul, agitated from pain, and just wanted to go home, "I'll be okay, but no. My head is killing me. Are you hot?"
Toby blinked at me as steam came from his nose as he exhaled. Of course not, it was January in Denver. No one was hot.
Car doors slammed and Toby leaned see what was going on. I took a deep breath as Toby said, "They're leaving. But Paul's still here. Looks like his head hurts too."
I leaned out and saw Paul pacing while pinching the bridge of his nose. He straightened long enough to unzip his hoodie and sling it off his arms onto the ground before starting his route again, fingers returning to his nose, squeezing. He turned to watch his friends leave the cemetery, their taillights disappearing in the distance, and then he froze, listening.
After a few tense moments, Paul nearly ran to the nearest grave. He went to his knees on it and bent so his hands touched the ground, his back turned towards us. The pressure in my head grew and the hairs on my arms stood up as a feeling like ants marching went and down them, leaving a prickling feeling in their wake. A cry came from my mouth and I smothered it with a hand, pushing it back down my throat. My vision wavered as the pressure broke at an impossible height. I forced my eyes to stay open as the heat I was feeling flooded away to be replaced with cold, dead cold.
The pain in my head dissapated, all of it, as Paul started pulling something from the ground. I was still reeling from the release of pressure in my head that I thought I might be hallucinating what I saw. Paul stood and pulled a person from the ground, a corpse.
The corpse stumbled to his feet, clad in a tattered brown suit. He wasn't pretty, his skin hanging from the bones of his face in sickly gray swaths. Reddish orange hair, dry and wiry, frizzed out in a halo around the crown of his head, leaving him balding and looking somewhat like a ginger Friar Tuck. He blinked one shrunken eye around Paul's shoulder and as he stood, I realized that the other side of face had been blown away. Dried tissue looked like leather stretched thin over the left half of his face. His jawbone was visible in splinters. A gunshot victim, self inflicted from the looks of it. The corpse turned to see his headstone, and that confirmed it. An almost neat hole, the size of a grapefruit was in the back of his head.
I leaned back in behind the monument and tapped Toby on the side so he would, too. He sat back against the monument with surprised eyes.
"A necromancer?!" I asked in an excited whisper, "What the fuck, Slendy, this is so much more deserving of 'caution'."
Toby chuckled, "You know how he is sometimes."
I peeked around the monument as ants started marching on my skin again, "Paul is raising another zombie."
I went cold, my skin running in goose's flesh, and Paul was standing on another grave, his hands meeting hands that broke up out of the ground to clutch his. Then he and the first zombie combined efforts to pull the new zombie from the earth. This one was a woman in a pink dress, in not much better shape than the first. Blonde hair hung like dry hay from her scalp to her shoulders. Red lipstick was smeared like blood across her lips as she shambled to her feet.
And then on to the next grave. The expression of Paul's face was beatific, like he was drunk and I understood. That pressure in my head all day had been caused by Paul. It was his power, and it had been about to spill over. But he was using it now, all of it, and he was absolutely drunk with it.
I moved back to find Toby waiting for me. "We need to stop him." But it was risky. The kids that Slenderman chose weren't exactly known for being "normal". Abuse and trauma ran rampant in the pasts of proxies in most cases, along with psychological problems. They didn't trust easily. I understood Slendy's caution warning in this sense at least. My mind scrambled as I considered our options. There weren't any good ones.
Toby must have come to the same conclusion because he stood and offered a hand to pull me up. I took it and let him pull me to my feet and then we came out from behind the monument together. Paul was too engrossed in the process of pulling naother zombie up, this on a wizened old man. We were two rows away when he saw us, having turned to survey the cemetery.
"Get them" Paul told the zombies in a voice that warped with power, "Bring them to me!"
"Run" Toby breathed and he took off, still holding my hand tightly. I ran with him, letting him pull me along, stepping only where he stepped, trying to match his much longer stride. When I reached my stride, I chanced a look back. The zombies were following us, arms reaching as they gained on us. Luckily, they were also clumsy, operating bodies they hadn't operated in decades. They shambled and tottered like giant babies, but were slowly recalling how to operate their musculoskeletal systems and getting faster.
I pulled my gun out and shot ones hand just as it lunged and grabbed for my sleeve. It exploded into gore and bone spliters and I felt some of it spatter my face as Toby put on a burst of speed. It was all I could do to keep up. The zombie Id shot had slowed down momentarily, but was pursuing us along with the other two.
"Over this way" Toby yelled to me and we turned left. I saw a utility shed made of rough wooden boards, but the door looked sturdy enough. We could reassess our plan there.
Toby made it to the door first and threw it open. I ducked inside and Toby closed us in. A couple of seconds passed quietly and then the zombies arrived, beating their bodies and fists against the door. The planks that made up the shack were wide enough apart that I could see them in the moonlight.
"Shit" I breathed and slung our bag onto the dirt floor in front of us, "I am not letting one those touch us."
I pulled out my second gun and shoved a clip into it and took the safety off to put a bullet in the chamber. I looked to Toby, who was pulling a hatchet from his back. "I knew he was gonna take seeing us badly. You called it, he saw us back in the city."
The zombies were still beating at the shed but one had started trying to pry the boards loose. Its fingers gripped the wood next to Toby's head and started pulling, hand enough to make the wood bow and creak. Toby turned and swung his hatchet at them. leaving the fingers to fall to the floor, still wriggling to the floor as the zombie let out a shriek of frustration.
"We didn't have any other options" I said as I moved the fingers off the side with my boot, "But what do we do now?"
Toby thought for a moment, "How much ammo do we have?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but heard footsteps rapidly approaching, running towards the shed. The zombies' attention turned towards them and started to shamble that way, and then gunshots. I moved closer to the door and tried to see out. The zombies were headless, laying on the ground, no longer moving.
"Hello?" A femal voice said, "Anyone in there? Federal Marshals Anita Blake and Ted Forrester, open up."
'Federal Marshal?' I moved away from the door. The police were the last people we needed here. A figure blotted out the meager light coming through the boards. The door shook, but Toby held it firmly closed. From between the boards of the shed, I saw a dark brown, almost black eye with the bare minimum of makeup. "We're not here in an, uh, official capacity. If that helps" she said, then backed off.
'Do we go?' I asked Toby, speaking in our minds, 'I mean, they know we're in here.'
'What do they look like?' Toby stayed posted agaist the door, the immovable object.
I crawled so I could look at the newcomers. The man, Ted Forrester the woman had called him, was standing slightly behind the woman, surveying the cemetery with sharp, pale eyes. He was of European decent with pale blonde hair and of average height. Actually, average summed him up well, physically. But Ted Forrester was dangerous, the feeling exuded from him, an I could see, even in the moonlight, that he was dripping with concealed weapons. Fat or muscle just doesn't grow in odd lumps shaped like guns and knives.
The woman, Anita Blake, she had said, stood slightly closer, with a gun pointed at the ground. She was shorter, around 5'4", dark and petite next to the blonde Forrester. Her hair fell to her waist in a soft, curly, black foam. Her vaguely Hispanic features were offest by translucent white skin that almost glowed in the moonlight. Red lipstick painted her lips like blood.
They were dressed similarly to us, black on black, with gun holsters like mine. The woman, Anita, was looking in the direction of the shed door, but her gaze was far away. Then I felt Paul Gray's power swell again.
'The kid is raising another one' I thought to Toby. 'The people outside are armed. But they don't seem like anything we can't handle.'
Toby considered and then nodded once, 'Okay, but I go first.'
I checked my gun 'I've got your back.'
Toby stood and tightened his grip on his hatchet, drawing the other from his back. One was older than the other, but it didn't matter, both were deadly sharp. I stood and gave Toby a little room as he opened the door slowly.
Toby walked out of the shed confidently and I followed close behind.
Anita Blake was still staring into nothing, but Ted Forrester spoke up, all good ole boy, "I'm Ted. Ted Forrester and Anita already introduced herself. What's going on? Anita felt something happening here."
'Can you still do that memory scrub thing?' I asked Toby and he squeezed my hand in affirmation. His eyes weren't on Ted, but on Anita as she swayed slightly where she stood.
"I'm Grace" I said, coming out from behind Toby, gun still in hand, "This is Toby. We're here to recruit this kid who can raise zombies to work for our boss." There, I had put it all out on the table, knowing Toby could scrub their minds if he needed to. I'd seen him do it before and was confident he knew what he was doing.
Ted chuckled quietly, "Is the kids name Paul Gray?"
I blinked. That, out of all responses, was the last one I expected, "Yeah, um, how did you know?"
Ted smiled and he looked out towards where Paul was, where Anita was looking now. Toby was still watching Anita as she stood there with her head cocked. I gave him a mental nudge. "I was hired a few months ago to capture a recruit for an agency that relies on anonomity. I was to track his movements, and bring him in. But when I found out he was just a kid, I dropped the job."
"So why are you here?" Toby asked, "If you dropped the job?"
Ted shrugged, "Curiosity. I wanted to know what was so special about him. When I found out, I called Anita. She's an expert on the undead. And luck was on my side that she was in town."
"Whoever is raising zombies here has lost control" Anita said, and we all looked at her as she came back to herself. "There's no way of knowing how many they'll raise before they pass out. We need to stop them."
Toby nodded, "The sooner we can get to him, the better. Grace, do you have everything?"
I raised the bag from where Toby had dropped it in the shed and hoisted it onto my shoulder, "Lead the way."
Slowly, we all crept closer to where Toby and I had been watching Paul. From there, I could see that Paul had been hard at work. At least ten zombies trailed behind him as he methodically pulled new undead from the earth down the rows.
"I was afraid of this" Anita sighed and we both leaned back behind the monument from earlier. "He's at least an animator, if not a baby necromancer. He probably has been bottling up his power for so long that he's lost in it now."
I nodded, "Toby and I scared him. He sent some after us, and that's when you found us. We were putting together a plan."
"Let me try something" Anita said, and she took a deep breath. She relaxed with her back against the stone and I felt that hot prickle up and down my arms again. I was just about to rub my arm to help allieviate the feeling when Anita touched the ground. A grave. Her fingers dug in to the dirt and then a calm, coolness spread out from her. The pressure that had been waxing and waning in my head all day, almost forgotten due to its consistency, broke one last time and then was no more.
"There" Anita whispered, "He shouldn't be able to raise any more."
"Anita, we've got company" Ted said quietly from the other side of the monument. I looked just in time to see the expression on his face. Anticipation. Make no mistake, the expression matched Toby's sometimes. They were cut from the same cloth. Killers.
"What flavor?"
"Ghouls it looks like" Ted said, "How are you two on ammo?"
"Ghouls?" I asked, shocked that they even existed, but I recovered, "Two guns, two extra clips in my pockets. Another few boxes in the bag."
Ted arched his eyebrow at me.
"The boss said we needed to be cautious. This is cautious."
"Take them out!" Paul yelled and I looked to see that a group of shambling corpses was approaching Paul and his zombies. While Paul's group was quiet and seemed to be following orders relatively well, the ghouls were snarling, agitated, and snapping at the air and each other. There were at least twelve of them, and they didn't seem to be holding up as well as Paul's. They lurched in a loose group toward Paul.
"Shit!" Anita swore and she broke cover. "The ghouls are attracted to his power!" she yelled back to us, "We have to take them out!" She fired some shots into the group of ghouls and some of their attention turned to us as we followed Anita. "Just shoot at them until they don't move anymore. We'll clean up later. I'm going to calm the kid down." She fired off a few more rounds, exploding the head of a ghoul, looking like talking to Paul Gray was the last thing she wanted to do.
At first, I thought it was enough to simply take out the ghouls via headshot. Some of Paul'ls zombies were caught up in the fray, simply trying to grab the ghouls like they'd been told to do. I felt bad every time one got in the way and would look around in confusion before returning singlemindedly to their task. I shot quite a few ghouls in the head, exploding some,. However, the ones with intact heads simply got up and continued attacking, using their arms to batter anything that moved. The bodies of the other pulled themselves along the ground, still seeking things to grab.
Toby, Ted, and I worked out a system in which Ted and I shot the ghouls, aiming for mouths, and Toby came to cut them into pieces after they fell. Soon, we had a battleground littered with zombie and ghoul parts alike, and the pieces would occasionally need to be shot again to keep them from inching slowly towards us. I shot an arm in the hand as it crept towards me, reminding me of Thing from The Addams Family. The shot shattered its fingerbones, halting its gradual progress. I looked over my shoulder to find Anita, who was standing about a meter away from Paul. They appeared to be in a battle of wits.
Paul was staring dispondantly at back at Anita, who seemed to exist in a plane of her own making. There was no wind on this frigid night, but her hair blew gently as if a breeze were blowing past her.
Toby came up behind me and clasped my elbow as we watched Paul collapse to the ground, holding his head in his hands. Anita caught him just before his knees hit, having moved preternaturally fast to do so. She dragged him easily to a gravestone and motioned Toby and I over.
When we got close, Anita looked at us with eyes that looked like night skies, black, deep drowning pools that were sprinkled with the reflection of the stars above. They glowed as if they emitted their own light. I shivered as I looked away from them to Paul.
Paul looked up and when he saw us, he began to flail tiredly, trying to get up. But all of his energy was spent during his standoff with Anita.
"Easy, kid" Anita said, trying to restrain him, "We're only trying to-" there was a thunk and Paul quit struggling, going limp in Anita's arms, "Shit... he knocked himself out on the headstone."
I came forward and went to my knees beside the unconcious teenager, pulling a pen light from my hoodie pocket. I gently shook Paul at the shoulder. Ted and Toby were moving body parts into a pile, and it looked like they were discussing something.
"Paul?" I asked as he moved his head, "Paul, everything's okay. You hit your head."
Paul's eyes opened and he jumped when he saw me, about to start fighting again. Then I could almost see the wave of tiredness wash over him as he sank back into the marble, resigned.
I offered him a calm smile, "I'm Grace, and I"m gonna check your eyes for a concussion." Paul nodded and I did my thing, shining the light into his pupils and watching for reactions or signs of unevenness. I stared into his watery grey eyes and found no signs. He was fine, just exhausted.
"You're good" I told him as I turned off the light and shoved it back into my pocket.
"Why have you been following me? You and the taller guy?" Paul asked. His voice was tough, but under it, I could hear that he was afraid. He knew that he was caught, there was nothing to do about that now. But he wanted answers.
"Toby?" I called and Toby came over, slinging blood from his hatchets. I cringed as Paul's eyes widened. Toby was covered in spatter of blood and thicker things. Not exactly a comforting first impression.
"Paul, this is Toby. He'd like to speak with you for a moment." I told Paul and got up to let the two of them talk.
Anita was talking with Ted in hushed tones a little ways away.
"I'm telling you, Edward, there's something weird about this! Don't you want to know who those two work for? You know the type of people who recruit animators..."
"It's Ted, Anita. You really need to work on that" Ted told Anita, "and sometimes, some things are none of your business. No one was hurt. Let sleeping dogs lie."
Anita must have felt me behind her because she relaxed, pushing a smile onto her face. It almost made it to her eyes. Almost. I looked to Ted. Or was it Edward? He was also smiling, but I saw a look in his eyes. They were blue, and reminded me of cold winter skies. Then he blinked and he was a good ole boy again.
"You two get your boy?" Ted asked and I nodded.
"Yeah" I said, "Is there anything I can do to help with" I gestured at the pile of still wiggling ghoul and zombie parts, "This?"
"I'm going to Ted's Hummer to get some things" Anita said, "Fire is the only thing that will destroy them now. You can come with if you want."
She offered me a smile like, 'let's have girl time'. I wanted no such thing, not liking that Anita was asking questions. But I played along, smiling back. I looked back at Toby, who was talking to a much more relaxed Paul. I followed Anita back through the cemetery, towards wherever Ted had parked.
"So" Anita said, "Who's your boss?"
I laughed dryly, "That didn't take long."
Anita smiled, this one more natural looking, "Can't blame a girl for trying."
I smiled back, truly amused with Anita's bluntness, "No, I can't."
We walked quietly together.
"But?"
"But" I laughed, "Even if you weren't the police, I wouldn't even know how much to tell you. it's all... pretty odd."
"I understand odd. I'm an expert on the undead. I can do what that boy did, and keep going. I can raise entire cemeteries, an army of the unfeeling, unthinking, unliving, to do my bidding."
She was trying to get information from me, even still. I looked at her with her oh so understanding face, and wanted to tell her, just to have someone to tell. But being believed... that was a different story.
"That's fine" I said "But I'll keep our secrets."
Anita sighed, "Fine, I'll let it go. But what about Paul? What happens to him?"
I shrugged as we came up on a black Hummer, the only car in the lot. "He'll have a job. A home. A family of sorts. It's probably more than he has right now. We'll take care of him."
"You're sure?" Anita asked suspiciously as she opened the back of the SUV and pulled out a couple of duffle bags.
"You've got my word" I said and Anita studied me; her eyes still pools of night sky. She must have found something that made her believe me because she nodded and handed me a bag. We started back and the silence wasn't as tense.
When we could see Toby and Ted, they were standing by Paul and the pile of body parts. We took them the bags and Ted opened one, pulling out something that looked like a grenade.
"Phospherous grenades burn hotter than normal grenades. Water can't even put them out. Actually, that just makes it burn brighter." Ted handed Toby the grenade. "Wanna do the honors?" He asked and his smile was devilish as Toby took the grenade and pulled the pin. Toby shoved the grenade into the center of the body pile and we all cleared out, backing away until Ted said we could stop. Toby pulled me with him and I caught Paul by the wrist just as it exploded.
Toby watched as bright white flame engulfed the pile with a beatific expression. Blood was spattered across his cheeks, blending in with freckles that dusted his nose and cheekbones.
I stayed with Toby like that for a few minutes, him hugging me to his side as I held on to Paul Gray's wrist. We watched the fire together, Ted and Anita standing with us.
"I take it Toby likes fire" Ted asked, kneeling to dig in the other bag.
"Yeah" I replied "You could say that."
Ted stood, hauling what looked like a flamethrower up with him, "Good. Gotta burn the bodies to ash, or they'll just stay like that."
Handed Toby the flamethrower, who needed no instruction and set to blasting stray body parts into oblivion with flame. Ted walked past me, and grabbed my arm, pulling me close as he started talking, no longer good ole boy Ted, but back to Edward. "I don't know who you two are, or who you work for" Ted whispered, "But I know that Toby is like me. And he loves you. Keep him here. Keep him human. Take care of him." And then he released me and was gone, walking up to Toby with his persona in place as he smiled and greeted him.
Anita and I stood with Paul and watched as Ted and Toby set all the smaller piles of gore everywhere on fire, along with odd parts. A torso here, arms and legs there. Toby used the toe of his boot to roll a head into the flames he had just created.
"The phospherous grenade was American" Anita said, watching the flames, "We have higher standards, so there are safety precautions in place. Smaller blast radius, shorter burn time. There won't be much left. Just ashes and bone chips." She sighed and nodded towards Paul, "I'm assuming you don't want any officials around, and you've got somewhere to take this one."
I nodded, "We'd feel better if we got him to the boss sooner rather than later."
Anita nodded "I thought so. Any chance you've changed your mind about our talk?"
"A snowball's chance" I told her and Anita laughed.
"Fair enough, go on then."
I put a hand on Paul's back and we started towards Toby, who was watching the white flames die down with rapt attention. Ted was standing next to him, hands on his hips, with the flamethrower sitting on the ground next to them.
"I love my job" Toby said quietly, most likely to himself.
"Me too" Ted said in the same tone of voice.
I came up next to Toby, pulling my hand in his and he looked at me, eyes looking strange with the fire reflected in them.
"Toby we need to go" I said, nodding my head towards Paul, who was rubbing at his eyes and looking worn out.
"Okay" Toby said, giving the fire one last gaze. He peered around me to Paul, "Are you sure you want this?"
"Yeah" Paul said confidently, pulling himself up to stand a little taller with squared shoulders, "I'm ready."
"Do you need to pick anything up from home? Say goodbye to anyone? Once you go, you can't really come back" I warned, noticing that Ted was standing too still for my liking, listening with his back turned. I pulled Toby away from him and we walked through the tombstones to the shed.
"No" Paul said, and then quieter, "There's nothing for me there."
Toby nodded and pulled the shed door open.
"Why are we going in there?" Paul asked, voice protesting, "I thought we were going to meet your boss."
"We are" Toby said, "Just take my hand."
Paul did hesitantly and pulled him through the door, dematerializing just past the threshold.
"Grace?" Ted's mild, good natured accent was goine. This accent was unplacable. He could have been from anywhere.
I jumped and closed the door quickly, "Oh, uh, hey Ted. Did you need something?" I leaned against the door, trying to look nonchalant.
Ted chuckled, "Don't worry, I'm not here to ask questions. Just reminding you to keep Toby in the light. I'd hate to see him fall over to the dark side."
And with that, Ted, Edward, whoever the hell he was, walked away, back to Anita, kicking the edges of the burn pile as he approached it. I blinked in confusion at who the man was, and how he just happened to be at the right place at the right time. Everything about him screamed 'human!' but was he really? While he and Anita had been pleasant to meet, I wasn't in any hurry to run into them again. I opened the shed door, home and Toby on my mind and stepped through, allowing the void to take me.
— When a curse turns everyone into their costumes, it’s your job to revert it before midnight — but Kihyun’s affected state turns your task awry.
DETAILS — [ 18+ | drabble | 1k ]
PAIRING — kihyun x warlock/witch! gender-neutral! reader
GENRES — magical! au, horror, smut
WARNINGS — use of magic/curse, established relationship, seduction, masturbation, slight degradation, corruption kink, cum-eating, mentions of blood and blades, mentions of anxiety
monsta x m.list | navi.
The party had taken a turn for the worse, everyone running rampant through the home acting like their costumes. Animals going feral, ghosts moaning at people without costumes, monster's gripping at others to use them for their own demise. All hell had broken loose, your hand reaching out to feel the cold energy all around — a curse was plaguing the get-together.
Your form barely made it through the crowd, stumbling up the steps in search for your boyfriend. Kihyun disappeared up the stairs into the bathroom when the Latin words were chanted, the house party with a few close friends and excesses shifting before your eyes. Your best friend abandoned your side the moment everyone shifted to rummage around in the pantry for food, your panicked state alone in the busy space making your teeth chatter.
Worry filled your body, making it to the second floor as your eyes scanned down the hall. Door after door, the place was unfamiliar to you. A new friend inviting you over on Halloween was fun in theory, but horrid in reality considering the circumstances.
Reaching for the knob of the second to last door, your ears caught a familiar sound. Kihyun's moans were light like whipped cream, the man's plump lips stuttering out your name. From the sound of his whimpers, you could tell his palm was wrapped tightly around his length. Your fingers silently turned the knob of the bathroom, opening it with a wicked sight to see.
Kihyun's demon horns headband had submerged into his skull when the spell was casted, your eyes matching with his bright irises as he pumped his hardened cock. Bent over the sink, his eyes had been struck on his own reflection moments before you came, his floating state engrossing him into the role. Head turned to meet your gaze, you stepped into the small bathroom. The man's hips slowed their speed as he watched you move around him, peripheral vision watching your every motion. Delicate fingers brushing over his lower back, the muscles tightened in tandem with your touch — his moans guiding your finger through the divots as your nails pressed into his skin.
"So rough," He was seething, tip of his tongue between his teeth in anger. "Corrupting me like I'm some pawn."
"You fell for me," you grinned. Your lips grazed over the lobe of his ear as he reeled at the feeling of your mouth on his skin. "Remember, Kihyun?"
His name triggered his hips to move faster, hips grinding into the marble countertop as he fucked himself with his hand. The pads of your fingers ran along the back of his neck, index and thumb pressing into his pressure points. He jolted his head, tilting back into your touch as he hissed.
"I hate the power you have over me, baby." he gritted. "But I love cumming to your touch even more."
His release splashed onto the counter, the bulbs of the small room flickering. His jaw went slack, tongue panting through his lips as he watched his white liquids be lifted from the cold counter by your fingers — the same digits delving into your mouth to suck away his taste.
His eyes flooded with sparkles, the small beads spreading crimson into his irises. You watched his teeth become longer, the man before you no longer the boyfriend you came with — only a demon.
“K-Kihyun-”
Your words were weak due to the screams emitting from downstairs, the crowd becoming seemingly panicked as the floor vibrated. Kihyun’s jeans were pulled back up around his waist, his arm surging by your body as you backed up. Stuck between the creature and the door, his eyes only grew brighter, snake-like tongue passing through his lips. His words were like blades, “You did this, didn’t you? Use your spells on innocent people, and me — just to play with us?”
Your eyes squinted as you winced under his touch, chanting the Latin words under your breath. His fingers circled your skin before gripping at your windpipe, nails sinking into your neck as he choked you. “Don’t fix it now, baby. We’re all having fun. Don’t you want to-” His head moved beside yours, tongue grazing your jawline with a wet lick as you whimpered in the midst of the spell. “-have fun?”
Your ears were hot with the tightening grip he had around your neck, the faint sound of a grandfather clock downstairs echoing. His hand only tightened, the last two syllables of your own chant breaking the curse at the stroke of midnight with the bell of the clock ringing through the home.
Kihyun’s eyes glazed over with concern, your face filling with heat from the loss of oxygen. Your boyfriend panicked, yanking his hand away to hold you up by your hips. Falling into his chest, he held you, spitting out words you could hardly hear as the blood rushed into your ears.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. What happened?” His eyes were investigating your entire body, attempting to find what the curse had caused towards you. Without himself in the spotlight, you shook your head, gliding your head against his chest to press your ear to his beating heart — the sound mulling your anxiety away.
“A curse. Someone spoke a curse and turned everyone into their costumes.” you choked out.
Kihyun’s form lifted your feet from the ground, swiveling you around to open the door. The crowd below had fallen silent in a confused state, wondering why the house was a wreck as they helped each other stand and clean up.
“You saved us.” Kihyun glared over you, pushing you back into the bathroom. Wrapping his arms tightly around you, his eyes shut as he took in a deep breath. His head fell into the crook of your neck, the headband over his skull protruding against your skin before slipping off his silky strands to the floor. You watched the accessory that had overtaken him slam into the tiles of the room’s flooring, eyes closing shut as the house filled with the sound of the party reforming below.
This prompt is from the lovely @watermelons-whump-game I chose to do a Get What You Get and got 'Voodoo Doll' by 5 Seconds of Summer with the prompts: mind control, dark magic, and puppet
Warnings: yandere, magic, yandere whumper, non con implied, mind control, creepy/intimate whumper
Whumpee couldn't understand why they kept doing what they were doing. They hated Whumper. They had always hated Whumper.
And yet they found themself unable to leave Whumper's house. Unable to leave Whumper's bed. Unless Whumper dismissed them.
"You're my little love puppet, darling," Whumper purred as they licked along Whumpee's jaw.
"Fuck off. I hate you." It was all Whumpee could say. Any time they tried to fight Whumper off, they found they couldn't.
"I think you meant to say how much you love me," Whumper said as their eyes glowed green.
"I love you so much." The words tumbled reluctantly from Whumpee's mouth. Why did they keep saying that?
***
Whumper had stopped letting them leave after a few weeks. Whumpee could always feel Whumper's breath on their neck, Whumper's caresses on their skin when they left. And Whumper seemed to not want to let Whumpee go.
Whumpee was so weak. Their body was growing frail. "I'm," Whumpee coughed weakly, "sick. Please. I need food. I need more than just fluids. I need friends. I need help. Please."
"Nonsense. Nothing my love can't cure, right darling?" Whumper's eyes glowed again.
"Yes, your love," Whumpee said though they knew Whumper's love was killing them.
"Besides, you are so lovely when you are so pliant in my arms, darling." Whumper cooed as they kissed along Whumpee's collar bone. "Look how lovely you are," Whumper said as they shifted Whumpee's body and Whumpee rolled limply in their arms. "This is my absolutely favorite way to have you."
Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut tight against the tears. They couldn't see this. They didn't want to be in their body for this. Their only hope is that they would slip into unconsciousness soon. That their mind would leave their body as Whumper touched them. Kissed them. Caressed them. Whumpee could only hope that the spell would soon fade.
