#bone breaking

It shouldn’t have stood out.

He was surrounded by suffering, the terror of the people of this AU sweet and cloying in the air; he could almost say this was his best hunt yet. But, almost in an effort to prove him wrong, there was something sweeter, so much so that if he wasn’t so utterly captivated he’d surely be nauseous.

By his side he could feel the look Cross was giving him. He’d been barking orders a moment beforehand but that all seemed so useless. Why chase after these pathetic whelps when he could taste a far sweeter prize somewhere over the horizon.

Someone coughed, trying to get his attention. He didn’t spare them a glance, eye tracking some unseen prey. He parted his mouth, trying to taste it. 

It was all unimportant compared to his newest target. He didn’t spare them another glance, knowing they would continue whatever havoc with or without him; he had far more important things to pursue.

Teleporting was as easy as breathing, the well –no, fountain– of negativity nearly a sinkhole dragging him forward. It was all he could do to teleport into some cover instead of directly on it.  

‘Bright’, the first thought to enter his mind. It was blindingly, horrendously neon in colour, so much so he was almost put off. A poisonous animal, blaring out how inedible it was. He banished the thought, for whatever he was hunting resembled a man. Tall, lanky but still holding bulk; a papyrus? No, the skull was all wrong. He shook his head. None of that mattered.

A rustle in the bushes –his tentacles shifting and waving too much-- alerted the skeleton, whose head flicked around at an unnatural speed. 

All Nightmare cared about was that he needed to strike, now. It was going to get away, going to flee, he needed to chase it. The movement was the only invitation he needed.

Between one blink and the next he had it pinned.

It struggled immediately, before going limp. A feint, animalistic in a way; seeing if playing dead would get a predator to lose interest.

Nightmare did not lose interest.

His tentacles spread out, mantling over caught prey. He leaned down, trying to get a better look at it. He needed to know what was pouring out so much negativity. 

It, similarly, looked up at him. Eyes obscured by sunglasses [an eyesore like the rest of it, tacky letters spelling out ‘WHAT??’] all he could discern of its expression came from its grinning mouth, stretched over its skull in a way that seemed almost unnatural. Skeletons were always smiling, but there was something wrong about this one.

“What’s up bro?” It spoke, grating. Forced casualness, it felt dissonant from the sheer helpless black hole of emotions welling from it. Like someone actively being tortured. It squirmed, testing his restraints. “Do I know ya, broski? Cus’ this is a bit of a personal space violation of a stranger, stranger!”

“No.” He answered simply.

It didn’t seem to know what to do with that. It laughed, eerie and fake, “pretty uncool move then!”

He could feel a well of magic starting to permeate it, and he pressed closer, tentacles pinning its limbs the instant he did. He would not be allowing it to teleport away.

Panic was beginning to set into the creature; at least, more than earlier in the encounter. Sweat beaded on its skull, and hyper-focused on it as he was, he could feel something off about its emotions.

“What do you want? I’m sure we can discuss this-“ its voice had gained a tight quality, almost squeaky. Questions became more frantic- it wanted him to give it something to work with, to say anything.

The panic was separate, somehow, from the rest of its suffering. A closer look revealed it was a whole different entity entirely. Both intertwined… and if he pinpointed where it was coming from…

“Wait! Hey you don’ need t-“

Lifting the glasses away with a casual flick of his tentacle, he hummed. A parasite had nestled its way into the skeletons head and wrapped itself around its SOUL. How… fascinating. The suffering he’d been drawn to must have been the host, and the quickly mounting panic and fear the parasite he’d caught.

He let up the slightest bit, curiosity satisfied and sated by the miasma of emotion wafting off of it.

It was hard to see it clearly in the shadow of the skull, but it seemed to change colour: a dark purple to almost bleached white. It became even harder to see because in that moment it bolted. The air became saturated with magic, orange and lemony, acidic. 

He was so startled it even managed to get out of his grip, he nearly didn’t chase it. Unfortunately for it, years of battle had honed his instincts to a fine point. It got barely a single step away before a tentacle had wrapped around its ankle. He couldn’t stop its escape entirely, the parasite had already teleported them into snowy woods [snowdin?], but he did make it bring him with it as a tagalong.

That didn’t matter, his senses telling him there weren't any emotional signatures anywhere near them. They were still moving, and with a sharp tug he tripped it, slamming its head into the snowy ground with a sickening crack.

He had it in his grasp again. Settling on its back, he pressed with a tentacle on the back of its head, keeping its face ground into the dirt. His tentacles wrapped around it more tightly this time; he was not letting it get away.

It squirmed a bit before falling limp again, like when he’d first caught it. An instinctual act or testing for more weaknesses in this new grip. It was breathing much harder this time.

“This is so- urgh- who are you?” Most of its previous mask seemed to have been stripped away by its frustrations. Narrowed eye sockets–what fine control it must have had of its hosts that implied–and a growl, “are you some type of goody-goody trying to ruin my fun?”

He couldn’t help but double over in laughter, claws digging further into the body beneath him. The parasite had frozen at the sudden action, and he couldn’t help but laugh even more.

“You think, my dear parasite,” and that felt good to say, “that I am on the side of good…?”

It stuck its tongue out at his mocking, still trying to act blase. The motion contrasted harshly with the faint tremors travelling along its body. “I think it’s un-radical to judge a book by its cover, bruh. So…?”

A cheshire grin spread across his entire face, “I am very much something else.” He laughed again, unable to contain his amusement, ”from one predator to another, I wouldn’t say I have any moral qualms with what you’re doing.”

It jerked, suddenly, fresh fear flowing through it. Reanalysing the encounter. He breathed in deeply, savouring the taste. He put more weight on it, a clear message; it wasn’t getting away. “Now, what’s wrong…?”

It kept squirming, “nothing! Did- is this your territory? I promise I didn’t do much hunting.”

As much as he enjoyed the taste of its dread, he didn’t know how much stress whatever species this parasite could undergo without whatever its equivalent of a SOUL-attack. It would be a shame if it dusted itself so soon after he discovered it.

He let one of his tentacles cup its cheek, cooing mock sweetly at it, “oh, don’t worry about that.” It flinched back and growled as he continued, “I merely want to propose a deal, something that’ll benefit us both…”

“A deal…?” It sounded faint.

“Yes, my dear parasite,” he smiled, “I’ll get you something to eat, and you’ll…” he tapped his chin, tentacles replacing his hand, wondering what exactly he could task it with– he just wanted it close, near him. “You’ll let me study you for a day.”

“I’m, ah- that’s a totes swag deal dude, but I’m not really looking for new digs right now. This host is pretty nice, ya-“

He broke its leg.

Even its keening burned different colours in the air. Pinks and blues and yellows dripped off its lettering. The sound stopped shortly, quieting nearly as quickly as it’d started. More a distressed squeak than any true whine. Good pain tolerance, or maybe it wasn’t that connected to its host.

“Wh-what’ve you got planned for the-“ it let out a choked little sound, “the uhm- these study seshes.”

He leaned back more, sitting down on it rather than mantling over it. He made sure to have all his other appendages carefully wrapped around it as he clasped his hands together, “So you’re considering? Wonderful!”

It stared up at him, a little dazedly, and he patted its cheek again. “You see, I’ll just be watching you go about your day-to-day. Nothing special at all. Very unobtrusive.”

It nodded. Disbelief colored it, but he ignored that. What mattered was that he had acquired something very, very interesting. 

“Now… what do you eat?” He asked, carefully tucking tentacles under it so he could pick it up without jostling the injury too bad. It was a bit wet with the melted snow, but he didn't care too much. He reveled in the fact it was unable to object to being princess carried.  

It whined, “why’d you offer if you don’t even know-“ he tightened his grip, “… alive, skeleton monster’s preferably, and one’s with lots of magic in their reserves.” It stuck its tongue out.

He smiled, “of course, that can be arranged.”

It huffed, clearly displeased with this arrangement, but didn’t comment further. Sweet and clever? How lucky of him.

Even though his subordinates were still in the other AU, he decided to teleport straight back to his lair. He could always go out and drag them back if they didn’t return themselves. As it was, they were replaceable, and much less interesting at the moment.

It shivered a bit at the teleportation, before wincing. It didn’t do anything else though, much less animated now. The previous bravado could have been an act, but it was just as likely this silent treatment was as well.

Studying it had been an excuse, yet he could feel himself wanting to know more about it anyway. 

“So, what exactly are you?” He hummed, walking towards one of the many, many uninhabited rooms of his castle. 

It huffed, “just a parasite man. Nothing special.”

He could feel a blend of resentment and annoyance behind the words. Hurt pride. Apparently it didn’t see itself as ‘nothing special.’ Smart enough to want to lose his interest but still holding a rather large ego. Cute.

He hiked it up further in his arms, setting his head on its shoulder. “And are you telling the truth, pest? Because I find you rather interesting.”

It raised its shoulders and ducked its head, either hiding its neck or flustered. Probably both. “You're not going to flatter me that easily man. You literally snapped my leg.”

He laughed, leaning his head back and giving it as much space as he could while still carrying it. “I suppose you are right. Then, may I ask your name?”

“Fresh.”

“How… quaint.” 

It made an amused click at his reaction. Non-skeleton, unique. He mentally noted it down as a positive reaction.

“You?” 

“Nightmare.”

It actually laughed outright at that, “I’ll say you are.”

He humphed at its words, but didn’t comment further as they got to the room he’d planned to drop it off at. He made it to the bed and dumped his haul onto it without much fanfare. It snarled, a new noise he noted pleasantly, but didn’t otherwise protest. A trip and back from the dungeon would just be a short journey, but before he went…

He grabbed its face, hands smushing its cheeks and forcing it to look up at him. “You are not to back out of this deal, understand, parasite? I know the scent of your negativity now, and there is nowhere you can go that I wouldn’t be able to follow. Understand?”

It growled, low.

He tightened his grip to painful levels, “I said-“

“Yeah yeah. I understand.” 

“Good.” 

With that, he let himself melt into the ground and into the dungeon. Not many monsters resided down in its depths, but the ones that did hadn’t been for long. They wouldn’t be alive if they had.

He strolled towards the newest prisoner, the one who’d probably have the most magic in their stores. He wanted to be a good host, after all.

They noticed him a moment too late, unable to say even a single retort. A quick jab between the bars, slamming their skull against the wall, and they were out. Not even bothering to go into the cell, he let one of his tentacles wrap around their ankle before teleporting back to his newest curiosity.

It, Fresh, was sitting up, legs dangling off the bed. It was testing its broken leg, no pain in its face. Either its earlier reaction had been faked or it had a very dynamic relationship to its hosts and what it could and couldn’t feel from them.

Either way, his entrance stopped its actions. He hummed, breezy as wind through a tree’s branches, “you wouldn’t be leaving before I could serve you dinner, would you?”

It smiled back, equally fake. “Not at all broseph. Just stretchin’. You know how it is.”

“Of course.” Paired with a close-eyed smile. And the last killer said he couldn’t socialise.

“Whatcha got there?” It motioned with its foot at the near-corpse he’d dragged along with him.

“Well, dinner of course. Didn’t I promise you a fine meal?”

It regarded him with suspicion, not seeming to have believed he was really going to do that. That made sense, of course. Very few monsters would genuinely offer you a live person to eat.

“Sick man.” It grinned, false enthusiasm, “so can I just dig in or what?”

“Of course. Just let me watch.”

“Nasty, but I guess I won’t be telling you to leave or nothing.”

Nightmare just smiled pleasantly, dragging the body closer and tossing it into the bed with Fresh.

It grimaced, scooting over to the body. Crawling over them, it struggled with more stiff movements in its leg. It glanced over at him a couple more times as it got ready, frown growing more severe with each look.

He didn’t bother to stifle his grin. It seemed it was a shy eater.

“Go on…” he cooed, and was rewarded with an uncomfortable shiver.

“You’re a real creep, you know that bro?”

“And you are the one going to eat a man alive.”

It rolled its eyes, but didn’t comment further. Finally, just when he was beginning to grow annoyed, it started. 

The soft body he’d seen earlier, now creeping out of Fresh’s skull and into its new hosts, looked remarkably like an octopus. It moved like a liquid, each tendril viscous in a way eerily similar to himself, and it flowed from one eye-socket to another. 

It shivered in on itself and flashed splotchy white’s in the open air, flushing red the second it was safe in the cavity of its new host's body. Tasting the air, he could tell shifting colors correlated with its emotions.

When the last lagging tendril finally snapped out of the old body, he heard the snap of a Soul cracking. As if that was the signal, the old body fell limp, and he watched as its new one convulsed for a moment, unsettling twitches and pops emanating from it.

Fresh, and it was now Fresh, not whoever else had been inhabiting that body beforehand, shoved its previous host off of it just before it dusted. It settled on its knees, shaking itself out like a dog. Little pops and cracks rang out, and the creature looked more itself.

“Bravo.” He said, almost regretting not bringing it the body awake. That fear would have been… absolutely stunning.

It gave him another weird look, “You’re a freak, you know that dude?”

“Yes.”

“So you just want me acting my normal radical self?”

“That would be the idea.” He smiled once more. 

It grinned back. 

A blink; another, and it was gone. He coughed, flinching back and covering his mouth. The room had filled with colorful fog, dense with magic. It felt eye watering, almost citrusy. 

He stepped back until he was out of the room, but the colorful mist was already fading. Looking for the emotional beacon the parasite surely was, he didn’t feel it in the AU. 

He shook for a moment, clutching the doorframe, laughing. And what did he expect but for it to run off at the first opportunity? He didn’t tell it it needed to stay in his castle.

Knight was running when pain struck their body. Their team was winning, but Knight was specifically targeted by the others’ mage. It seemed their tactician had planned this. Suddenly, they regretted wearing metal armor. It only seemed to amplify the agony that ripped them to shreds. At least, it felt that way.

Knight would have almost preferred it.

They fell, losing their footing and tumbling down a rocky hill. This time, they were grateful for their armor. As singed as it was from the attack, it held as Knight rolled, scraping at the ground for something to stop their fall. The rocks and gravel slipped through their fingers and their helmet cracked against a large rock.

The clang reverberated around the helmet, Knight’s hands coming up to their ears, but it did no use as they couldn’t get their hands under the helmet in time. Their ears rung. Their body burned. Any exposed skin was rubbed raw and cut from sharp stones. They didn’t know if the enemy mage was following them, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was stopping their fall.

They couldn’t even do that.

Finally, after they came to a stop at the bottom, they let out a shaky exhale. They hurt in more places than they did before they fell. They couldn’t move their right leg. They could feel their skin melted to their armor, which was still hot from the attack. The only thing they could smell was their burning flesh, singed hair, and they gagged.

They struggled to pull their helmet off, managing to throw it to the side and roll over onto their hands just in time to empty their stomach into the gravel. The motion of that alone caused a wave of pain that forced them down to their elbows.

“Fuck,” they whispered, looking away through tears. The mess was speckled with blood. They didn’t even want to imagine the internal damage the lightning caused. Besides the external burns, which the medic could handle (at least they thought he could) there was still a matter of their insides. They were almost roasted alive, their armor becoming a sort of Brazen Bull, for fuck’s sake.

“Knight! Knigh-“ Swordsman screamed when Knight looked up. “Holy- fuck, I’m coming!” Swordsman knelt beside them and helped roll them over again. “Knight, what happened?” Knight groaned, wincing as Swordsman took them from under the arms.

“The mage got-“ they gasped their leg was shifted. “Got to me. Lightni-“ they screamed as their armor was jostled. “Lighting. The fucker,” they spat through the agony, shaking their head. They were seeing spots. They begged the spots to take over their vision, to pull them under so they didn’t have to deal with the pain any longer.

But they didn’t.

The pain kept Knight awake and sobbing, chest burning in embarrassment. They forced themself to stay quiet as Swordsman lifted them to their good leg, pulling an arm around his shoulder. Their broken leg screamed as it brushed the ground, eliciting a heaving sob from them.

They were crying in front of Swordsman. What a baby.

If Swordsman shared the sentiment, he didn’t make it noticeable. He mumbled comfort and reassurance into their ear whenever they whimpered or cried particularly loud. Knight was grateful for that.

“You’re going to be okay, Knight,” he squeezed their hand. “We’re going to help you. Just a little further now. Nice and slow.” Knight shook their head, letting it fall forward. The sky was a crisp blue, not a cloud in the sky. It would be nice if they weren’t dying. They looked at the gravel instead, the stones blurring as they limped along.

Each small step forward was more painful than the last. “I can’t- can’t do this, Swordsman,” Knight gasped, letting out a pained whine as Swordsman stumbled. Their armor was heavy. It was weighing both of them down. Swordsman was strong, but he couldn’t hold up the tank that was Knight in full armor. “Just leave me here,” Leave me here and save yourself, Swordsman. I’m-“ they burst into body wracking sobs, making Swordsman collapse and bringing Knight down with him. “I’m not worth it!” They wailed, digging their fingers into the gravel. “I’m- I’m sorry… please, forgive me.”

Swordsman laid there for a minute before he wrapped his arms around Knight. They seemed to freeze as he tightened his embrace. They obviously weren’t expecting Swordsman to feel this way after they dumped their insecurities onto him. Swordsman inhaled deeply, breathing in the stench of burnt skin. He gagged quietly and closed his eyes, trying to hold his breath. He couldn’t stand to see, or smell, his best friend in their current state. Knight lifted an arm with difficulty and let it fall against Medic’s back.

“Knight? Swordsman?” Swordsman sat up.

Medic. And Archer and Bard and Leader.

“Guys? The-“ footsteps pounded the gravel as the rest of the team ran to them. “The reinforcements are pushing the enemy back. Knight-“

“Knight’s injured. The other team’s mage hit them with a lightning spell. I don’t know how badly they’re hurt, but-“ Medic’s features twisted into worry. Swordsman could see the panic behind his eyes.

“I need to help them now.” It was easier to pick up Knight with the rest of the group assisting Swordsman in lifting their body. Knight’s moans and cries of pain made everyone uncomfortable, not just Swordsman. They felt guilty. Guilty that they couldn’t help their beloved teammate any more at the moment. They felt worried. Worried for their safety and survival. Knight’s survival depended solely on the team’s haste and their own will to live.

Please let them be alright, God, Swordsman prayed as the team helped them to the boat. He trailed behind, holding his own injured arm. The adrenaline had finally worn off and it began to sting. A minor injury that didn’t need treatment.

Not compared to Knight. They were the priority now.

Please, I need them to be okay. Please.

———

He likes thrills. You're aware that he's stalking you long before he makes a move because seeing you getting nervous excites him. Once he does reveal himself, it's just the beginning. He'll push you to the ground, then disappear. You'll get up and start running. He'll break your ribs and leave. You'll keep looking for help. He'll make you bleed but he won't take a bite until you're crying because he likes teasing himself. Finally he'll hold you down and start feeding. You have some fight left so you overpower him, maybe get some hits in and start running again, just to realise that it's all part of his game when he easily catches you again. How many times do you "escape" before you're too dizzy from blood loss to walk?

Nick's a messy eater and you're both covered in your blood by the time you die. He's bitten into every exposed spot he can reach, sometimes just licking at places once or twice before moving on. Hopefully they won't need to identify you by your torn up tattoos.

Jolly

The total opposite of Nick. He'll stalk you, but he'll close in and smash your head against a wall before you sense the danger. You'll probably be dead when he starts feeding. There's no finesse to his technique, if he's lucky you'll just lose consciousness and your beating heart will pour your blood into his mouth. You're a stranger, but he doesn't want you struggling and suffering.

If you're alive, he'll feed from your upper arm because he likes the soft flesh. If you're dead, he'll sit you against a wall and feed from your tummy, let gravity push the blood out.

Nicholas

He doesn't stalk you, you go to him. One way or another, you find yourself in his big, finely decorated house staring at paintings of his dead loved ones. You walk out in one piece so many times that you let yourself think that he's no threat to you, you have a good relationship with him, he likes you too much to kill you. He's got a lot to say about the grief of immortality and you foolishly listen. He never tries to convince anyone to die for him, but somehow he does. You're just another tragedy in his beautifully melancholic story, of course you'll let him consume you. You keep listening to him talk about predators, prey and inevitability while he restrains you. You could have left and never come back, the door isn't locked, but you didn't even try to go.

He likes inner thighs. It's intimate and he doesn't have to look at your face while he betrays you as he was always doomed to. You could kick him off, but you stare at the ceiling and let him feed instead.

Noah

He's similar to Nicholas in that you've known him for a while and you trust him before he makes a move. You're either his romantic type or a close friend. He breaks in one night when you're sleeping. He tries not to wake you up, but you do wake up and try to fight. He says he's sorry and he cares about you but he needs your blood. He keeps apologising the whole time he's killing you and he really is sorry. He breaks his own heart a lot, targeting people he likes.