#tw wings

Inktober 2022 Day 9: Nest

I really like this one. Wanted to work on background perspective anyways.

Grian, Hermitcraft, 10-9-22

They all looked in horror, mouths agape and eyes filled with only fear and shock.

Screams rang out in the air around them as Danny clutched his head, nails slowly turning to claws his back bulging in a palpating fashion. Two wings dripping with ectoplasm burst forth, white feathers and twitching as he keeled over, the sudden weight knocking him off balance.

His friends, one of them at least, rushed over as Danny tried to calm down, the pain surging through his body enough to knock a human out, he wasn't human anymore though. He backed away and lashed out at Sam who tried her hardest to comfort him, to ease the pain, to do anything for her friend.

"Danny, can you hear me?" She asked, voice desperate, Danny could only distantly hear her question through the pain, he released a sound in response, one he never thought possible.

He pulled down his hands from his head and saw everything, more than he could before, and his plane of view was getting larger by the second as more eyes blinked open across his form. Danny felt beyond overwhelmed at everything happening so fast, tears started to well up in his original eyes that retained the green hue that spread across the entire orb, the rest of his eyes glowing reds and blues.

He was warned by everyone the risks of wielding more than two ghost artifacts at once, he ignored them and managed to find most of them.

Soul Shredder.

Ring of Power

The Infinimap.

Clockworks staff.

Crown of Flames.

It only took him an hour to figure out how to use all of them at once, map scrolled out on an alter with Soul Shredder in one hand and the staff in the other, Crown on his head and Ring tied around his neck as a necklace. He only saw power and greatness in his future if he managed to wield them all at once, instead he was being turned to an eldritch horror, great power at an extreme cost.

He found himself returning to reality, he looked down finding he was in a pool of ectoplasm, his friends and family scared into a corner at his new looks, chipped antlers sprouted from his head and his entire body had turned to one that mimicked an upright canine still carrying human traits.

He stared in disappointment of himself and almost sadness when his friends inched away as he took a step closer, an audible 'thud' sounding off with each step he took, he cringed at the noise, but didn't cease his movements.

Sam stood still, stuck in place by fear at what Danny had become while the rest fled the scene, not even bothering to wait for her. Danny waited till he was within five feet before dropping to the ground to be closer to eye level with her.

She stayed still, Dannys breath hot on her face until she simply reached out a hand to Dannys face, brushing against his snout, almost scaly, but ice cold under her touch, he purred. She gently rubbed a hand against one of his antlers, before reaching his hair, still white, but darkening slightly at the base of his antlers.

A smile crept onto Sam's face, sure her friend was an eldritch horror now, but he was still the most adorable creature she's ever seen. Eventually she found herself running her hands along his wings, each twice his size and definitely weighing to much for him to do anything with now.

(Not a ship)

(tw: angels and demons, whole lotta blood, creepy whumper, limb removal, body horror)

“STOP IT! STOP! MERCY, PLEASE!”

Whumpee shrieked and clawed at the ground as Whumper held them down with their knee on their back between their wings. Whumper was ripping their wing off from the joint, their strength enough to remove it without anything except for their hands.

“Cute little thing. You’re gonna be such a mess when I’m done with you.” Whumper wrapped their tail around Whumpee’s ankle possessively. Blood splattered on Whumpee’s wing, the red dripping down and forever staining the flawless white.

Whumpee wailed as Whumper gave a final tug, their voice giving out as their wing finally ripped out of its socket. Whumper grinned as the blood splattered on their face. Their tongue snaked out to lick away a drop of it, humming at the taste.

I really like this picrew so... picrew chain!

Tommy doubles over in pain on the second day and almost collapses.

Dream is on his feet in an instant, flattening against the wall in wary confusion, but Tommy doesn’t even see him: every bone in his body screams, his back burns hellfire, and it’s taking all his efforts not to start screaming in pain.

“Tommy?” Dream asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Not going to fucking tell you, prick—” Legs buckling, Tommy fights back a wave of nausea, hands curling around to his back with a whimper. “My— No, fuck you! I’m not going to tell you!”

Dream steps closer, pauses, steps closer again. “Is it your wings?”

“Fuck you!” It’s better to curse at Dream than it is to focus on the blinding pain in his back, the bones shifting, the bones growing. Tommy buries his head on the ground, light headed, hands curling into weak fists. “Don’t get any fucking closer, I’ll just start screaming, I hate you, fuck off.”

Dream scoffs. “Scream all you want,” he mutters, “nobody’s going to come.”

That’s a fair point. It does nothing to stop Tommy from feeling his heart sink or his eyes fill with tears he hides by closing them.

“Is it supposed to hurt this much?” Dream asks after a pause, something indistinguishable in his voice.

“Yeah.” Tommy fights through an ocean of pain, lets out a slow, unsteady hiss of breath through his teeth. “Fuck. Fuck. If— If Philza fuckin’ Minecraft was here, things would be better. He’d know how to deal. Had to deal with— with his own, and with Wilbur’s, and he should be here to help—”

A dry sob almost escapes him violently. He should be here to help me with mine. He refuses to say it. But fuck, when had Phil helped him or Wilbur with anything here? He’s far more concerned with Techno as usual, right?

And then Dream is crouching at his level, eye glinting through his shattered mask, looking wary. “I was there when Phil grew his wings,” he ventured, “I can help.”

Tommy jerks back. The sudden move sends lightning rods of excruciating pain shooting down his back and shoulders, and he can’t help but cry out. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Dream shifts back instantly, lifting his hands in surrender. “You need to turn diagonally,” he says, “so your wings don’t end up pressed against the sides of the walls. You need as much space as you can. You won’t be able to retract them for a few days.”

He contemplates telling Dream to fuck off again. But it’s effort, more than he currently has, so instead, he shifts a minimal amount, groaning wordlessly even then. Every little movement burns, even in these early stages. How is he supposed to cope when they actually appear?

“Better,” Dream says, “if you want, I remember exercises Phil did for himself and for Wilbur. I could tell you them.”

Tommy spits on the ground at Dream’s feet in agreement. “Go fuck yourself,” he says, which is a please tell me, and Dream scoffs, “doesn’t mean I have to fucking listen.”

But he does, struggling to follow Dream’s clipped instructions, and when the burning in his shoulders eases to a bearable amount after a few minutes, he doesn’t thank Dream. He instead shoots him a look, tired and wary, but earnest, and doesn’t snap at him once that night.