ghost running his fingers along your teeth as you sit open mouthed in the kitchen, the rough pads of his fingers catching on the edges of the teeth before he pulls them out and lifts the forcep from the dining table. clamping down on a molar and pulling until it starts to loosen in your jaw, giving one final harsh tug, ripping it free from your mouth. bloody and glistening as he holds it in his palm, gently gripping your jaw as he praises you for how well you did and how good you were for him as blood pours from the wound
This is a continuation of Jules’s story, which I started as part of the 19-day whump challenge I did back in February.
After overdosing as a result of a “prank” by the employees at the blood bank and collapsing, Jules finds himself in the clutches of a mysterious man who paid money for him, but insisted on a discount because he was already injured. He thought the black-market trade in captive vampires, and all that comes with it, was just a rumor, an urban legend. He was wrong.
At some point there will be a masterpost for just Jules, but right now, I just have the one for the whole challenge, with all of the ones about him labelled with his name.
Tag list: @inky-whump , I think someone else maybe but can’t find it?
*****
By the time the car came to a stop, Jules had calmed down, his tears drying and his shaking easing. He laid on the floor, curled in a ball and with his head down, and tried not to think about how long he’d been moving or how far he must be from home by now.
He’d been missing for 4 days, 3 nights. Surely, someone from work would have noticed. Surely, someone was looking. Right? It had to be good that he had been moved. Didn’t it? They hadn’t found him where he was, so going somewhere else was - was - he curled in tighter on himself, and the leash attached to the hook over the door pulled at his collar. He took deep breaths, and tried not to cry again.
The man got out of the car, closing the door behind him, and then a few moments later, the door near Jules’s head opened.
When the blanket was pulled away from his head, he found himself staring up at a man half again the size of the man who’d brought him here, an enormous, muscular man with dark hair and a mustache that struck Jules, absurdly, as a fake, too 70s to be on someone’s face now.
The man grabbed Jules’s leash and gestured with his head for Jules to get out.
Jules crawled forward on his hands and knees until he could clamber awkwardly out of the car, the man watching impassively and making no move to help.
When Jules made it to his feet, he could see just how far the man towered over him. If he’d ever seen a man this large, it was only from a distance, at the nighttime football game he’d won tickets to at work. The man’s white t-shirt wasn’t tight in a way that was meant to show off his muscles, but it also did little to hide them. Jules averted his eyes.
The man who had brought him here - had bought him, which he couldn’t remember without a spike of nausea in his empty, pained stomach - was watching with a little more interest, but Jules didn’t meet his eyes, either.
“Bring him,” the man ordered. His lackey grunted, agreeing, and pulled sharply on Jules’s leash, tugging him halfway off his feet so that he stumbled forward. The man who had bought him turned calmly and led the way out of what looked like a large, covered parking lot, albeit with only the one car, and into the building they’d arrived at.
They stepped through a set of double doors into what looked like a disused lobby, the counter at the end unoccupied and the lights only half turned on.
Walking on the leash with the large man was nothing like walking on the leash had been before. Where before, he’d only had to keep up and things were fine, the man in the white t-shirt seemed to delight in tugging Jules along whenever he could, and Jules’s only comfort was that as long as he stayed behind the man , the tugs put pressure on the back of his neck instead of the front where it would have choked him.
Hauled along quickly and unbalanced by the man’s vicious periodic tugs sideways on the leash, Jules found himself disoriented almost as soon as they’d crossed into the series of glaring white-tiled hallways that split off from the lobby. He was mostly certain he could find his way out again, but only mostly, which, in combination with the way the fluorescent lights glinting off tile reminded him of the back rooms of the blood bank, made him feel even sicker.
It was a relief to come to a halt until he raised his eyes from the floor and realized the room they’d brought him to held what looked like a hospital bed, tricked out with more straps than he’d ever seen on a bed at an actual hospital. He stopped dead in his tracks, only to be pulled forward by the most vicious tug on the leash yet.
He stumbled forward several feet, and the man who had bought him caught him, his hands as gentle as they’d been before.
“It’s alright,” he said, squeezing Jules’s shoulder. “I know this place can be frightening, but almost none of this stuff is original. And even what we kept, we’ve updated.”
Updated from what? The man seemed to think he knew what this place was, but his head had been spinning too hard to make sense of it on the way through the halls. All he knew was that it was white and gleaming and it made him feel sick. He tilted his head to the side, making a muffled noise of confusion through the muzzle.
The man laughed. “Those guys really did do a number on you, didn’t they? Don’t worry, sweet. As soon as we know you’re safe, we’ll get you all patched up.”
He slapped Jules’s cheek lightly again, the half-healed skin stinging dully behind what couldn’t even really be called a blow. Jules flinched away.
The man in the t-shirt tugged hard on the leash again, pulling Jules away and toward the bed. “Get up there,” he ordered gruffly, “And hold still.”
Jules looked toward the first man, but he just gestured toward the bed, pulling the control for Jules’s shock collar from his pocket. Jules swallowed hard and scrambled to follow the order, half bowing at both men so they’d know he was listening.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, but before he could twist to lie down on his own, he was being manhandled, the man with the leash shoving and dragging at Jules’s body until he was lying exactly where the man wanted him.
He felt himself begin to tremble, lying there on his back.
The man who’d brought him here stepped forward, beside his head, and waved the controller in front of his face. “Now, I know you can hold still without this, but it’s only fair that you know it’s ready in case you misbehave.”
Jules’s breath was ragged, puffing in and out of his nose fast and sharp as the muzzle made breathing through his mouth hard. He nodded, meeting the man’s eyes and hoping it would be obvious he meant it.
The other man had removed his leash and was strapping him down to the bed, binding his legs at the ankles, shins, and thighs, crossing his hips and his stomach, pinning his bound arms sharply against his sides, and, at last, securing his shoulders so tightly to the bed that he couldn’t dream of pulling away.
“Good,” the man with the remote said, sounding pleased. “Now let’s get that muzzle off, huh?”
Jules didn’t even have time to feel relief before the large man’s hands were locked onto the sides of his skull, squeezing threateningly and holding his head still. The man with the remote pocketed it and reached up to unclasp the muzzle around Jules’s face. Then the large man was shoving his head down onto the bed and binding it in place with another tight leather strap.
When the large man removed the muzzle, he did it in one hard, sharp motion, ripping it away from the places his skin had begun to heal around the leather and leaving jagged lines where the straps had been, blood beading up from the wounds too slowly to drip away while he was held motionless.
Jules cried out, his body instinctively trying to curl around the pain, but his head couldn’t move.
The man who had bought him sounded almost sympathetic. “Open your mouth,” he said, his voice soft even as he gave the order.
Jules hadn’t needed to be told . He gasped for breath, his mouth gaping wide open as he dragged in as much air as he could. His face hurt. It hurt.
The big man moved fast, shoving another strap of leather into Jules’s mouth and wrenching downward, yanking his mouth open and then binding his jaw in place, as far down as he could get it. Jules’s eyes watered as the stretch made the wounds around his mouth pull, the pain less than that initial tear, but still radiating through his face.
The smaller man squeezed Jules’s shoulder. “Almost done,” he said, “We can start healing you in just a minute. Just a minute.”
The big man was still moving, retrieving some kind of implement from a drawer.
When Jules got a good glimpse at what looked like pliers, albeit shining, sterile ones, he keened in the back of his throat, a high-pitched sound of terror, and tried to pull away, only to find that the straps holding him were well beyond his meager strength.
The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently again. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s just while you’re in training. We don’t want any accidents. We’ll let you grow them back, eventually.”
Jules whined, his mouth held open so that he couldn’t form words.
The only answer came from the big man. He closed the tool around one of Jules’s fangs and yanked, twisting sharply and wrenching the fang out of his mouth in one quick, practiced motion.
Jules screamed, the taste of his own blood wrong on his tongue, nauseating and half-dead.
He dragged in a ragged breath, but the man had already clamped down on his other fang and Jules choked on his own blood in the moment of shock that followed the sudden, wrenching loss of his second fang. He gagged and coughed, fighting for breath as sluggish streams of his own noxious blood dripped down against the back of his throat.
The world in front of him was wobbly, the tears in his eyes blurring it to nothing, and his mind was completely overwhelmed with pain, blanking out everything else until the whole world was pain and white-blue fluorescent light. He wasn’t sure who released the straps binding his head, but he came back to himself as they loosened and forced his head up. He gagged again, fighting through it to spit out his blood before it could turn his aching stomach, coughing hard and pulling desperately and futilely at the strap around his shoulders as he tried to sit up farther.
The hand on his shoulder moved, and then someone was stroking his filthy hair back from his forehead. “Shhh. Shhh. There you go. There you go. It’s over now.”
Jules managed to drag in a gasping breath free of blood and burst suddenly into hard, wracking sobs that barely felt different than choking had.
“Let him have everything above the waist,” the man who had brought him here ordered. The straps loosened, and the man’s hands helped Jules sit, still gentle. Jules hunched forward, still crying. His bound hands drifted up toward his face, but stopped halfway, in the middle of the air, hovering below all the places too painful to touch.
The hand in his hair was back. “Shhh. Shhh, you’re alright. You’re alright.”
He wasn’t.
The hand in his hair was gentle. Part of him wanted to lean into it, to press himself sideways toward the stranger, even as much as he hated him.
“You’re alright,” the man repeated.
He wasn’t.
He bent forward farther, curling in toward his own knees as far as he could manage, and the hand slipped away.
“Come get me when he’s healing,” the man said, voice hardening as he stopped talking to Jules and addressed the other man instead, “Here - take the remote. But I’ll give him the speech, so don’t rough him up too much before I do. I don’t want him getting confused.”
The smaller man’s footsteps were quiet, lost under the noise of Jules’s ragged weeping. The door opened and closed. Jules’s back heaved with every sob, until the larger man forced him back onto the bed again and strapped him down by the shoulders, and every deep, wet gasp shook the whole bed, instead.
thinking about simon having pain in one of his teeth. it's been throbbing for a couple days and he just goes fuck it, sets up a floor lamp in the bathroom and grabs a pair of pliers. reaches in and just pulls until his tooth comes out. checks the hole and spits the blood pooling in his mouth into the sink before rinsing off his tooth and putting it away with his other trinkets.
gonna schedule post my entire first completed fic (arc) so i can increase my reach
(and will be copy-pasting this intro across all the posts)
firstly, the thanks
thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 on Reddit for making his story The Nature of Predators on both Reddit and Royal Road
thanks to Daniel Mullins for creating the game Inscryption
huge thanks to u/Gearing-Up (their Ao3) for their initial crossover fic A Card Game With Leshy, read on Reddit and Ao3
massive thanks to my ideas man and co-writer: RaphaelFrog (Reddit Twitter Instagram)
without him i wouldn't have even gotten a single chapter done 💀
and lastly, big thanks to sisterlucifergraphics for making the divider used for these chapters!
as always, notes, summary, and body text are copied right from Ao3
which you can also read: Here
without further ado, Chapter 4
CW: ripping a tooth out
The Messenger
Summary:
After traversing the forest and gathering some beasts to her caravan, Ginsha finally encounters a wicked figure with creepy smile. His bent teeth, unkept beard and overall demeanor fill her with unease.
Memory Transcription Subject: Ginsha, Unwilling Challenger
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 20, 2136
As Leshy rolls out the map once again, his last words echo in my mind. What does he mean by that? If I make another mistake, then I’ll be sacrificed?
Shaking myself from my thoughts, I look back down at the map and see the end, which has another depiction of a human skull, although this time it has some kind of headwear with two tools crossed under it. The path directly ahead splits into two card choices, but after the first is another item sack, with the other having a sacrificial altar. Looking to my right, I don’t really see a need to get more items, since I still have two, so I move to the right to see what cards to pick from.
“The unkillable Cockroach. It returns to your hand after dying.”
“The regal moose buck. Creatures of the wild make way for it.”
Before me is an insect that seemingly can’t die, or an… incredibly intimidating prey creature, with stats to back up its supposed stature. As I look at the cards, a thought strikes me; if I’m going to get out of here, I’m going to need Yaina’s help, and while I can figure out later a way to hold onto her card without Leshy knowing, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a way to get her back into me hand should I feel the need to play her. If that scream I heard was any indicator, they would actually feel pain, and as defective as it would be to say, I don’t want that for them.
Moving forward to the next space, Leshy places the sacrificial altar onto the table, and I can see Yaina trembling slightly as I choose the Cockroach to be sacrificed. As I reach over to Yaina to receive the sacrifice, I see them speak and tightly shut their eyes.
“Not this…”
Feeling an unfamiliar ache in my chest, I place their card to receive the sigil from the Cockroach, and just like that, the map comes back out and I reach the end. The tiles change to a dark green and the already dimly lit cabin suddenly becomes incredibly dark.
“The trees seemed to close in around you as a chill mist descended.”
“In the distance you could hear the clinking of metal on stone.”
While Leshy was right about the sound of metal and stone, there was metallic grinding and a droning percussion as well.
“A hobbled figure stands in your path”
“HEEEEEE-HAWW! ‘TIS THE PROSPECTOR.”
He had grabbed a mask from the darkness and held it over his face, wielding a pickaxe in the free hand. The mask had the appearance of a human, but with teeth bent terribly out of place and its facial fur looking as if it hadn’t been groomed in ages. Along with his cosmetic change, there was a skull on his side with two candles coming from the eye sockets. Do those have a similar meaning to mine?
Looking down at the board, there were two cards on Leshy’s side, a Pack Mule and a Coyote, with the mule looking incredibly thick for a card. I play my Squirrel and place the Bullfrog to block Leshy’s Coyote, and with a ring of the bell it goes down, leaving the Mule to move aside the frog, with an Adder coming down in front of it and taking it out. Drawing a new card I get Yaina, and a plan forms in my mind. I play the Cat to sacrifice for Yaina, who takes out the Adder and adds two points of damage to Leshy’s scale, but the Mule moves in their way, and a Bullfrog deals one damage right back to me. Looking at my hand I come up with a plan; I play a Sparrow in front of the Bullfrog, which should be able to take it out by next round, and also secure myself a win, as Yaina will clear the Mule, and the Cat will block the River Snapper coming in. hitting the bell, everything plays out exactly as planned, save for the four new cards I find in my hand.
“DAG NAB IT! MY MULE!”
Leshy- the Prospector- their sudden outburst nearly causes me to drop my cards in surprise. Looking at the new cards, I find myself looking at a River Otter, a Pronghorn, and another Cockroach. As Leshy’s turn plays out, I look over the board; my Sparrow will be free to attack next turn, but if I play my Stoat now I can get rid of the River Snapper to secure this even more. With a ring of the bell, the frog and snapper go down, and with Leshy seemingly out of cards, everything plays out and I see the scale tip entirely towards Leshy’s side.
“How brutal of you…”
“You dealt more damage than you needed to win.”
“However, in my game, such feats are rewarded…”
And with that, a few of the weights–no, not just weights, looking at them closer I can see that those are human teeth. With Leshy’s words, a few excess teeth are collected in a small bowl.
“I hope you didn’t think it would be that easy…”
With these words, Yaina seems to tremble, and a realization hits me as Leshy blows out one of his candles.
“Thar’s gold in them cards!”
With his pickaxe, he strikes down every single one of the cards on my side of the board, each one turning into gold nuggets.
“G-g-gold! I’ve struck gold!”
After this, he removes the cards from his side and prepares to place a single Bloodhound. Looking down into my hand, I see Yaina has returned, just as the Sigil allowed, and they seemed to be in quite some pain. Not seeing much to do, I simply draw another Squirrel and end my turn.
“Git ‘em.”
Leshy’s Bloodhound destroys the gold in front of it and another Adder is being readied. Looking down at my cards, I don’t see a way I can finish this fight quickly, until I see the items next to me. Reaching back for the rulebook, I look to see if the items are in there, and to my luck, they are; the fan will allow all cards to attack directly, while the pliers are more vague, something about the pain being temporary.
Having a plan in mind, I draw and play a squirrel to block the hound until the Adder frees up a space, after that I play my Wolf and an Opossum in the free spaces. With the cards in place, I use the fan to allow them to attack directly, and as I reach for the pliers I hesitate slightly. The weights on the scales are teeth, does that mean… Before I can stop myself, I reach over and grab the pliers.
What am I doing?
You’re winning is what you’re doing.
I reach the tool up towards my jaw.
Is this really going to be worth it?
Just do it, pull it now!
{ERR: Minor Transcription Error – Severe Pain Detected}
My ears are ringing, vision is blurred, and I feel a small weight in my hand as I hear a dull thud to my right. As my senses clear, I’m suddenly aware of two things: first being the excruciating pain coming from my mouth, the second being that I’m breathing heavily. Looking down in my hand, I see an Arxur tooth–not just any tooth, my tooth–and on the floor to my right are the pliers I used to rip it out.
Is this why they smelled of Farsul blood? Why their imitation of a human’s “smile” was obviously missing a tooth?
Composing myself, I pick my deck back up to see Yaina with a shocked expression as I drop my tooth onto the scale.
“A well earned point of damage.”
“I didn’t think you would really do it.”
My tail lashes at Leshy’s remark, but I manage to suppress a growl. Before I hit the bell, I sneak Yaina’s card into the palm of my hand to maybe hold onto them between these battles. With the strikes from my Wolf and Opossum, Leshy blew out his candle and removed the skull, the atmosphere suddenly returning to normal.
“Allow me to light your candle once more. I won’t be killing you quite yet.”
The implications of his words aren’t lost on me as my second candle is relit, and all but one of my cards are whisked from my hand.
“As a reward for overcoming a boss, I grant you an opportunity to…”
There’s a moment of silence with Leshy seemingly looking around in his darkness for something.
“I appear to have misplaced my chest, please retrieve it from under the painting.”
After taking a moment to catch my breath, and attempt to ignore the lingering pain from my ripped out tooth, I get up from the table and notice said painting and a large box beneath it on a table. Going over, I crouch against the box, acting like I’m catching my breath again to check up on Yaina, but before I can speak, they do first.
“You… you really did it too.”
“I’m assuming you did the same… am I wrong?”
“…”
“No, you’re not…”
Before our conversation can continue, however, a strange green ooze seeps in from a crack under the painting, and before I know it a pair of eyes and some kind of mouth appear from it.
"Aaargh… The pain… It still haunts me after all thouse years. Oh! You're finally here. Come here later or Leshy might start getting suspicious. I have Arghhhh… Important informations for you Challenger!”
My confusion keeps me from reacting to this talking ooze, but Yaina appears very startled by its sudden speaking, and for once I’m grateful that they’re in a card, otherwise this cover would be blown. Picking up the chest, I bring it over to the table before sitting down.
“Thank you.”
“As a reward you are granted the opportunity to select a… rare card.”
Leshy then opens a box, revealing 3 cards with similar designs on them to Yaina’s card.
“Canine. Hooved. Reptilian. Feathered. Insectoid. The Amalgam is all.”
An abomination of a creature if I’ve ever seen it, and somewhat underwhelming if I’m being honest.
“The holy Mantis God. A perfect incarnation of Terror.”
A fragile card, although if its Sigil is anything to go by, it strikes three spaces instead of one, a tempting choice.
“The eternal serpent. Death strengthens it forever.”
A shockingly fragile card for its cost, but what does Leshy mean by that? Death strengthens it forever? It even has the same sigil the Cockroach does… Deciding to take a chance, I take this Ouroboros for my deck. Glancing down to my hand, I notice Yaina saying something.
“Red eyes…”
only after i had finished with this arc did i realize
you don't get overkill damage when out damaging a boss's first phase
oh well /shrug
also please lmk if this should also be tagged with 'self harm'
reblogs very much appreciated!
Tumblr thrives off rbs more than likes but likes are nice too! ^^
