as op as my tzimisce Sabrina is this shit happens when ever she has a panic attack tho its worse when she frenzies
look you can find so much symbolism and meaning in this one in this one especially when i admit it was inspired by my own anxiety....
You never imagined how you would die. As a child you believed you were invincible, when you presented you truly thought you were immortal and as an adult with the training you had and the status, you knew it as a fact. You were unkillable.
But when you came face to face with the red gas, your life flashed before your eyes. No longer invincible, no longer immortal or unkillable. You were simply a scared little girl, grasping at the frayed ends of the rope of time, all alone.
Well not completely alone…
“Jesus lass, ya scared the shite out of me!” Johnny rushes over to you, knees hitting the ground without care of pain. “I thought ye were dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” You mutter, a tired smirk weaving its way onto your face. Though it feels different, it doesn't feel normal to banter with Johnny the way you usually would. Your tone feels almost disrespectful somehow.
“Come now, gotta get ye back to the jet. Cap’s having an aneurysm.” He helps you to your feet, letting go of you as he did, he knows you’re strong enough to stand on your feet and don’t like coddling but your knees buckle and then you're gripping onto Johnny for dear life.
He hooks your arm around his shoulder without a second thought, you’re grateful he’s not commented on you falling into him. He seems more focused on getting you out of the building, through the forest and back safely on the jet. Your pack is there waiting, eyes filled with questions even if they remain silent the whole flight back to base.
John can’t take his eyes off you as Johnny fusses with the cut on your shoulder, using tweezers to pull the glass shards out. You wince, your face pinched in pain but that just makes John more worried. It’s strange this feeling; he of course worries over his teammates, his pack. But this is something else, something more powerful and deeply ingrained. Like an ancient feeling rushing through his veins that he has no control over. That’s got him gripped by the throat, claws slowly curling around his neck the more you wince.
Simon has the same itch. But he can’t scratch it, can’t even look at you with how focused he needs to be on flying the jet. But it’s so insignificant when you whimper as Johnny pulls out the last shard of glass. His knuckles sting and pull tight around the steering wheel.
Kyle’s nose isn’t in his book as usual after a mission, his whole body is aimed in your direction even though he’s far back in the jet. He can’t tear his gaze away no matter how hard he tries, a feral flavour of protectiveness rising in his throat that tastes somewhat like bile. He can’t even take in your scent to soothe himself that you’re okay, it’s all twisted with rotten ginger and injected with sourness. It sets his teeth on edge.
Once you’re off the jet, once the debriefing that you couldn’t focus at all during even to answer John when he asked you what happened, is finished; that’s when the questions start.
“You all good?” Simon asks, an eyebrow raised, hand clasping onto your uninjured shoulder. You wince at the slap, something that has never happened before, flinching at the sound too.
“Don’t know.” You mumble but they all hear you.
“Lass?” Johnny’s eyes squint, your partner in crime looking at you worried, glancing at Simon who had taken a step back staring at his hand like he had burned you with his touch.
“I think I’m fine.” You reply, voice sounding wobbly.
“You think.” John frowns, not a question. He realises, after flicking through the files of memories stored away up top, he’s never heard you sound unsure like this before. When questioned on how you feel, you have never said you don’t know. Ever.
“Let’s get you to the med bay.” Kyle offers softly, the guys looking at him in surprise at his tone. But all you do is nod, letting Kyle place his warm hand on the lower half of your back guiding you.
The check up takes a little longer than usual and it’s mostly just a blur other than Kyle talking to the nurse about what happened on the mission since you’ve suddenly become non verbal. Suddenly curled in on yourself, shuffled somewhere in the corner of your mind to hide, and become mute while doing so.
You don’t even flinch when the needle goes into your vein, nor grimace when the vial fills up with your blood. Nor wince when the blood pressure machine becomes too tight around your arm. Nothing, just a numbness spreading through you at an exceedingly fast rate.
You’re not sure what the nurse says but Kyle reacts badly, shouts angrily but you’ve got cotton in your ears and your tongue is heavy in your mouth. It’s not until Johnny places a warm hand under your chin guiding you to look up with a mumbled, “C’mon show me those eyes lass.” That you notice Simon and John are also in the room holding back a feral looking Kyle from a terrified beta nurse.
You want to ask what happened, why Kyle is angry, what is going on but your wolf has your tongue as she whimpers and whines locked away behind bars. “Cap.” Johnny motions to switch places with his captain, thinking it probably best that the unofficial head alpha take over.
“Sweet’art I need you to tell me what happened.” He asks soft and gentle like approaching a wild animal, coaxing you to answer but you shake your head feeling like a petulant child when he gives you a stern eyebrow raise. “Veil.” His tone is deeper, a dark vibration rattling in his chest. It settles over you in such a way that you feel the command boom in your head. It’s loud and powerful, nothing like how he actually spoke to you.
“I don’t know!” You screech feeling the bellowing echo bounce around your brain so painfully, it only dawns on you when it fizzles out that John just intoned you. Blinking up at him from where you’re sat on the edge of the examination table with wide, shocked eyes, “You jus-“
“Like I said,” the terrified nurse stood tall from where she had originally shrunk away from Kyle, “She’s an omega.” She says loud and clear. A proud look flashes across her face and Kyle snarls at the sight, upper lip curling with the viscous sound.
“Like hell I am.” You snap, standing, almost charging at her but she doesn’t cower away like she did with Kyle. She has pity in her eyes as she watches you approach her. “I’m an alpha. Always have been, that doesn’t just change bucko.” You scoff but it doesn’t hold the same attitude, doesn’t sound the same as it did yesterday.
“I’m sorry but you are an omega, blood work doesn’t lie.” She holds a piece of paper out to you that you snatch away like it’s the last piece of food on earth. Your eyes scan the sheet and your stomach drops, you feel sick, a drive heave crawling its way up your throat.
Omegan. Written in big block letters of disappointment at the top of the sheet. It’s everywhere, Omegan’s Vitals, Omegan’s blood type, Omegan’s donor match, Omegan’s heat chart, Omegan’s ovulation chart and many more listed that have you running to the nearest bin and vomiting your guts out.
You choke and splutter when a sob tears itself from your chest, it echoes in the room, sinks itself into your pack’s skin. Johnny is at your side in seconds, rubbing your back, talking you through it, but you're quick to shout. Quick to get angry at what seems like his acceptance of this lie, “Don’t!” You push him away feeling your heart break when sadness shoots through your bond.
It’s too much, it’s all too much.
You do the only thing that you can think of, the only thing that makes any sense right now. You run. Fast and until your feet hurt, until you can taste blood, until your lungs hurt from the sharp cold air.
“It’s not possible.” Falling to your knees you fist the dirt below you, needing to feel something real. It’s cold and damp, getting stuck under your fingernails. “It’s not real.” You rock back and forth, shaking your head.
The woods around you is alive and watching you. But you feel a strange comfort being here in the dirt, “Can’t be real.” A bluetit flies down landing in front of you. He’s not scared of you. The little creature hops toward you until he’s on your thigh. His head tilts to the side, black eyes blinking up at you in a way that asks if you’re alright. It makes a laugh launch from your throat, a noise that the bird tweets back at.
You’re enamoured by the small thing, he flutters his feathers in satisfaction when you stroke a dirty finger over his back. The sweet, calming moment is interrupted by a twig snapping behind you. The bluetit flies away the same second a shadow covers you.
You don’t move, unconsciously hoping someone has come to grant you mercy but instead Simon sits down in the dirt next to you. Neither of you say anything, it’s silent other than the nature surrounding you. It’s peaceful. Serene enough to calm your wolf down, to quieten her.
“It seems real.” He grunts, finally saying something.
“It can’t be.” You counter, eyes stuck on the horizon. Simon’s head turns to face you, “I won’t allow it to be real.” Your deep breath in, is stuttered and doesn’t calm you in the slightest.
“If it is, you know we’ll help you through it.” He says heartfelt, genuine but it rages something within you. Causing your blood to boil and therefore you snap at him.
“No Si! There is no helping me through it because there isn’t anything to help me through. Nothing has happened to me, end of story, goodbye. No sequel.” Your words are rushed like you have to spit them out for him to believe you. Though his eyes show he definitely doesn’t.
“Veil. If it is-“
You breathe deep, a wrecked sob retched from your throat, “I can’t.” You feel as though your throat is constricting. No air coming no matter how much you try to force your lungs to expand, to take in more. “P-Please.” Your bottom lip quivers, hands grasping at your neck.
Simon pulls them away, holding them tight hissing at you, “Careful!” as your claws grow with your panic. You sob and howl but there’s little you can do to fight Simon’s grip. “Calm down omega!”
Intoned once more. Wings clipped, poor little omega caged and shackled.
consider really the scariest use of Vicissitude is to abruptly make someone bald no warning no notice
slap ya bush right off, slap ya hair right off, slap ya beard right off
gone!!!
smack smack smack!!! bitch slapped by a Tzim and ur armpits SMOOTH
Statues (originally: Szobrok)
2025
Acrylic on paper
This is a picture of multi-faceted meanings, but if all that I managed to express from it is "Medea thinks meatcrime stuff is cool", that's also an accurate meaning.
Vicissitude user (clan neutral) opening up a penis enlargement business online with the honest intention to follow through for clients who want it but everybody thinks it's a scam except for like, idk the local Toreador Primogen or something
