Own World - Blog Posts
Space: Nightmares
Fandom: Original Work
AU?: N/A
Extra: Original characters again, whoop whoop!!
Warnings: Abuse, Blood mentioned, death, lifeless bodies referred to as dolls
Tag: @badthingshappenbingo
A Nightmare For Death
Trembling with both sections of his tail in his mouth, chewing on scales and leathery flesh, the boy remained as silent as possible. The tiny safe room his mother had installed into his room was a secret to that monster of a man. Why was he doing this? Young, little Mortalitas had done nothing wrong!
"C'mon brat, I know you're in this house somewhere!"
Still, he remained silent, daring to peer into the little view slot that he had so he could see if he was safe. He had to cover his mouth to stifle a scream. That was his mother... Dead. Lifeless. Being dragged like a pathetic doll by her clothes. Of course, the stifled scream didn't go unnoticed, and Mortalitas panicked as his hidey hole was approached.
The man, his father, or at least he's supposed to call this wretched man, had an expression that was more gnarled than an old iron gate. A vile, violent, vicious man who didn't understand the concept of love unless it required forceful and mercilessly hands. Not that it was love, and young, little Mortalitas knew that.
But when the little hidey hole was revealed, everything changed. The body was no longer his mother's, but rather instead his husband's. No... That wasn't possible... His husband wouldn't have been killed. Right? RIGHT? But alas, the clothing was now the Prince's official attire, ripped and shredded. The tri-coloured hair - blonde, baby blue and pastel pink - was matted with blood, the usually lively body language rendered down to the same movements of a ragdoll.
Similarly, his father was no longer his father. For one, his father did not have brown hair like the mud of a floodplain, shaggy and unkempt. His father didn't have grey, steel eyes that held not even one sane moral behind them. His father wasn't a mindless, cruel human, who's only concern was experimentation and torture. But yes, the man had changed too. Clad in a white lab coat stained red, with larger gloves of that sickening doctors' blue, a sneer plastered like a smile on his face - the CEO and lead scientist of the country's biggest threat.
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Waking with a startled gasp, the king stared at the ceiling with his chest heaving. His usually playful and unserious partner sat up beside him, a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Mortal...?"
The king could only sit up himself, and hold onto Jester with a vice hug, refusing to let him go. Jester held Mortalitas in return, securely in his arms where no one could dare to hurt him. Jester wasn't too clued up on Mortalitas' childhood, but he had a few ideas of what had occurred for his kingly lover. He never pried for the information but this was clearly more than his past.
"Mortal, dear...?"
"... You were dead... He killed you..."
The usually manic prince could only hold his beloved tighter. He knew that Mortalitas had lost almost everyone in his life, and he knew that he feared losing Jester. He made the attempt to soothe him, gentle hands raking through surprisingly untangled hair of a white, purple and black combination. It was painful, watching him struggle with no way for Jester to help. If only he could take away all that horror, pain, trauma, terror... Everything that his beloved ever suffered. But of course, that isn't possible. Jester can only hold him while he sobs, gut-wrenching heaves of his chest as his hands cling tightly to Jester. Sounds that no one ever wants to hear from anyone. Sounds that no matter what happens, you want to protect them with your whole being.
And, despite his lesser power, Jester would throw himself in harms way for the man in his arms.
⛧˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛦Vipera's Case⛦˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛧
An OC Short/One Shot story
Warnings: Murder, mentions of gouged out eyes, prison mentioned, decapitation
READ WITH CAUTION
Sometimes, the coldest killers are the happiest children...
That's what he'd heard and he knew it was true. He knew who he was and who he'd become. He was a happy, oblivious child who had no worries... At least, before everything happened.
⛦˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛧⋆༺𓆩⋆♱✮♱⋆𓆪༻⋆⛧˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛦
The last semester of the year ended, and Vipera was prepared to go home for a few weeks - home to his family who had adopted the young fae when he was only a baby. Everything seemed normal - the walk to the train, the train ride to his hometown, the trek to his house, greeting his neighbours. Everything was normal.
Until it wasn't.
Vipera entered his family's home with a bright smile on his face, and a call to say he was home. He was met with a thick and bloody silence. He stared at the doorway of the living room, locking eyes with someone he didn't know and catching eye of someone fleeing out the window. Stupidly, the fae looked down. A thud of Vipera's belongings falling to the floor sounded out. This man was holding the vibrant red hair of his adoptive father. His father's expression was lifeless, his eyes gouged out and his body... Well, not attached. Daring to look behind the man, Vipera saw red. His brothers and his sister, his mother, his aunt, one of his cousins, his father - all of them decapitated and eyeless.
Without even a second thought, Vipera lashed out, charging at this man with a violent snarl. His fist collided with this murderer's temple, sending the man backwards. In a rage, the fae flung blow after blow at the man, completely ignoring his eye getting ripped out of its socket. Vipera didn't stop, not even when the man was dead, obliterating his face until he was unrecognisable. When he did finally realise, he froze, his body numb as the dread and anguish washed over him. He stumbled backwards as he stood up, and made a call to the cops, before he ran for it, fleeing the scene.
⛦˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛧⋆༺𓆩⋆♱✮♱⋆𓆪༻⋆⛧˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛦
Several years down the line, the case of the Occidendum family had gone cold, Vipera pronounced dead after no trace of him was found. In the midst of his disappearance, he was taken under the wing of some alcoholic psychopath. Vipera would kill for him, his lack of care or emotion making him ideal for such dirty work. He worked for him in agreement that he would find whoever fled his house that day.
The psychopath kept his word.
Daylor. That was the bastard's name. The one who ran that day. Tracked down, he would pay. Pay for what the fuck he did. Issue? Well, this little Daylor happened to be the brother of Fëanor, the warden of the country's most inescapable prison.
And yet... Vipera didn't care at all.
⛦˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛧⋆༺𓆩⋆♱✮♱⋆𓆪༻⋆⛧˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛦
75 years of killing couldn't have been more of a help. 75 years of slaughter, 100s of lives taken without being caught.
"Daylor."
He had found the man. His stare was cold and Daylor's was scared. Terrified. He knew who Vipera was. He knew what the little fae had done 80 years ago to his beloved friend. Without missing a beat, Vipera swung and hence commenced the fight that would change Vipera's life for the worst.
A crack and a thud made Vipera pause, staring at the majority of his horn now on the floor. He snarled and used it to his advantage, snatching it up and holding it point-down towards Daylor's throat.
The stab was never made.
Struggling frantically, Vipera did everything in his power to try and free himself from the hands that held him tight. He screamed, begging whoever had a hold of him to let him finish the job, to let him complete his revenge.
"Vipera Occidendum, you have every right to remain silent. You will be seen in court for several accounts of murder and attempted murder. Whatever you do and say can and will be used against you."
Fëanor.
Vipera fell limp in the hold of the warden. He had no chance. The warden was at least 8 times his age, and hence made him far more capable than Vipera.
"Like how I'm the one serving a pissing sentence. HE HELPED KILL MY FUCKING FAMILY!" Vipera snarled, snapping at Fëanor all while staring down at Daylor with a murderous glare.
⛦˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛧⋆༺𓆩⋆♱✮♱⋆𓆪༻⋆⛧˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛦
Life.
A life sentence.
He'd die being known as the Remorseless Killer of Jejivan. Never as a man hunting and preparing for revenge. He'd die here. In this prison. At least... He assumed so... Who knew? Perhaps one day, he'd be let free.
Sometimes, the coldest killers are the happiest children... And Vipera was one of them.
⛦˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛧⋆༺𓆩⋆♱✮♱⋆𓆪༻⋆⛧˙♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱⋆☠︎︎⋆♱˙⛦
His Majesty's Horror
Space: Go Through Me
Fandom: Original Work
AU?: N/A
Extra: This, like the other entries, is my own world and characters.
Warnings: Abuse, battle, gore
Tag: @badthingshappenbingo
The door creaked open, the young boy's mother poking her head into the room. A look of guilt and sorrow came over her face as she saw her son awake, curled up with his hands over his ears and tail wrapped around himself. She quietly made her way over, sitting on the boy's bed. The instant she did, he crawled into her arms and clung to her side.
"Did Daddy hurt you again?" The boy asked, toying with the cotton of his mother's pajama top.
"He only shouted, don't worry," she rested her head atop his, giving him a reassuring squeeze.
Avalyn Noxalus, a strong and independent woman, tough to break and destroy. She cherished her son like he was her hoard. Not a single soul would hurt him, not while she lived. Despite the fear set in her home, she remained warm and loving for her son's sake.
Pulling the boy onto her lap, Avalyn started to plait her son's hair, an attempt to put him at ease. She sang a lullaby to him, quiet enough so only he could hear her. A silent promise that no one would hurt him.
============================================
Blood covered his face, hands, arms... Everywhere. The scythe dripped with that ruby substance, the stringy remains of some poor beggar's intestines caught on one of the many curled sections. Guts and blood splattered the walls and ceilings, more on the floor - smeared along pearly white tiles. Metal scraped along pot tiles, the sound just short of nails on a chalkboard. Heavy breaths and low growls led the scratching blade, heading towards the main laboratory.
They had her. They had her, somewhere in this disgusting building. And he would be damned if he failed to get her out. She had spent years protecting him from the violence of his father, now it was his turn to protect her from the violence of the world.
He glared back down the hallway, hand on the doorway. An endless run of bodies, disfigured and in more pieces than what it would seem. For the ones that still had life, they dragged themselves like zombies across the floors in an attempt to stand, or to die with a wheeze on top of another. A mad grin spread over his face at the sight of their pathetic and useless bodies as he pushed the door open.
Met with guns to his face, or rather to his stomach, he stared down at the human scientists with a snarl. He towered over them, adjusting his grip on the scythe. Time seemed to slow as he swung, the blade pushing on skin before breaking through, tearing into flesh. Bloodcurdling screams wretched from their mouths, the blade of the scythe ripping their bodies clean in half at the abdomen. He swung it back the other way, taking heads from the shoulders as he did. Blood spilled from various points, mixing into one large puddle under the bodies.
Scientists further into the room stare in horror, fight or flight starting to kick in - and naturally, they all made to flee. The swirling whoosh of something flying through the air was the last thing they'd all hear, the blade hugging their bodies and slicing them through the middle as it went. Blood splattered across the floor, over equipment, up the walls - everywhere. Guts were cut to pieces, scattered wherever they landed.
He found her, Avalyn Noxalus, shattering the glass of the cylinder that held her. Before he could put her on his back, the sound of machinery caught his attention.
"She is ours now, you have no further connection to her".
He laughed, turning to face the machine. He grinned like a maniac, resting the scythe on his shoulder.
"You want to keep her? Get through me first..."