Goshofmoss

A couple of my Homestuck OCs - Kalaon Gefest (the one with 1 pair of glasses and 2 pairs of arms) and Artios Koller (the one with 2 pairs of glasses and 1 pair of arms). They are rival inventors with a budding black romance.

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP Therapy | Making Amends | “I’m alive, I’m just not well.” (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

Alva is a young biology teacher sent to work in a small town who ends up stranded on a strange island with his older fatherly colleague Sean after a fishing trip gone wrong.

This is a story that takes place the morning after Day 29.

--------------

Falling

Alva turns in his deep dreamless sleep and his body finds out that the bed it is in is much narrower than what it is used to by falling off it.

As he feels the solid surface underneath him shift to air, he cries out instinctively in a panic, thinking he is about to drown. Instead, his body just hits the floor and he opens his eyes. His heart is racing, threatening to break through the rib cage.

He whimpers as he sits up leaning back against the bed with his legs spread out on the floor and tries taking deep breaths.

His mind clears quicker than his body can calm down. He does not like where this might be going.

"This better not become a regular thing... I would hate to wake up like this every day," he thinks.

Alva hears rapidly approaching footsteps from the outside. Fingers squeeze into the window crack he left before bed and slide it completely open. His colleague (and good friend) Sean leans inside with a look of worry written all over his face.

"What happened?! Are you alive, kid?"

His words are accompanied by mildly labored breathing and his face is a little red.

"I'm alive, I'm just not well," Alva confesses. "I fell and I thought I was going to drown... Like, I was still on that fucking boat."

"I'm sorry…"

Alva tries to get up but his legs are still shaking.

"Could you… help me get up, please?"

When he looks up Sean is not there. His heart sinks for a moment before he puts two and two together, that coming in through the window is neither easy, nor conventional. He waits, focusing on steadying his breathing, his body still reeling from the shock of the perceived near-death.

Sean opens the door and approaches him after a while putting his hand on Alva's shoulder. He is frowning and does not look him in the eyes.

"I am sorry I took you on that boat trip, kid," he sighs.

Sean has never brought it up during the 8 days out at sea. Neither did Alva, since he could not blame the man for a sudden storm, so why rub salt into the wounds? Sean has been so jolly most of this time, he thought it also did not bother him.

"No, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known." Alva reassures him as he is helped up onto the bed. "Don't worry about it. I do not blame you in the slightest, Sean."

"I understand. But it still sucks to be the accidental cause of all our troubles... even if I am not exactly to blame."

Sean sighs again combing through his white beard with his fingers. He looks so tired, suddenly. Nothing like his usual self.

"L-let's go have breakfast." Alva suggests, unsure how else to help him. "Maybe we can find something tasty to cheer ourselves up in the kitchen?"

No. 30: RECOVERY Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | “What have I done?”

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Barnaby is a fungal mage who loves mixing drinks. A mycologist mixologist, if you will.

This is a moment from his teenagehood.

--------------

Apple puree

Barnaby's bandages up right hand is shaking a little when he takes the spoon. There is a small bowl in his healthy hand. It is full of apple puree. He has not had "solid" food in months. Ever since he managed to fight off the Fungal Plague, he has been stuck to exclusively drinking things due to what the mycelium and the surgeries to remove it did to his stomach.

The first week or two he could only drink the same healing herbal soup made by Polina following his doctor's instructions. Then he was allowed to try compote. He vomited the first time but after another couple of days, he was able to keep it down. Then he was allowed to drink tea, milk and many other things. He enjoyed coming up with new combinations things he could drink and making them with Polina. His brain had something to work on and his tongue was finally pleased with him, although not all combinations were successful.

Now the moment of truth is here. He feels like he is more than ready to handle a puree but his doctor urged him to be careful still.

He dips the spoon in and collects as much of it as he can, hearing a sigh from the doctor. He would normally grin at that but he is too focused now.

He almost drops a bit of it before his wobbly hand reaches his face. He inhales sharply at that danger. Not a single piece will be wasted. Unless he throws up after this but that is a problem for a future Barnaby.

The spoon goes into his mouth and he wraps his tongue over it to lick off all the puree. It is not the best tasting thing he has had in the past weeks but the texture is heaven. He can feel the skin under his remaining left eye begin to itch and burn as the tears threaten to well up in it as his teeth close on a harder piece and crush it.

What have I done?

The sudden thought appears in his mind.

I could have just stayed at home. I could have avoided all the hurting and almost dying, being unable to eat or walk. And I could have still had both of my eyes.

He curses himself as the spoon pops out of his mouth. After chewing a couple more times, just because he can, he finally swallows the puree.

He waits with bated breath.

Nothing hurts. He does not want to vomit.

He waits some more.

It is still okay.

And a little more for good measure.

Nothing.

It could have always been like that.

He did not suffer for some great cause or heroic deed.

He suffered because he chose to take a stupid useless risk. He snuck out as the Plague was raging on and ended up bitten.

Barnaby sniffles and scoops another spoonful. A few tears roll down the left side of face as he continues eating.

No. 29: FATIGUE Labyrinth | Burnout | “Who said you could rest?”

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

Alva is a young biology teacher sent to work in a small town who ends up stranded on a strange island with his older fatherly colleague Sean after a fishing trip gone wrong.

This is a story about how they found that island. It takes place right after Day 17.

--------------

Nap

As soon as the bottom of the boat grinds into the pebbled shore Alva stumbles out of it and after a few of wobbly steps to get away from the water falls face first with a weak relieved groan, then rolls on his back.

"Who said you could rest?" Sean teases and chuckles, getting out soon after him slowly and carefully. "We've just arrived and you're already tired?"

His legs are also barely functional after sitting in the small boat for 8 days straight, so he decides to take his time walking.

"We still have that whole hill to climb. Let's get to that building on top and see if there is anyone there. I'm sure there is a bed or a couch there that is much more comfortable than this."

"I can't move a muscle." Alva answers quietly word by word.

He is both the happiest and most relieved he has been in his life and completely and utterly exhausted. 8 days of utter torture. Eating raw fish, sleeping in cramped conditions, praying he would die quickly and painlessly and the salt. The fucking salt. He really wants to wash himself and brush his teeth. Eat something sweet. Or at least not salty. But he truly cannot make his body move. It does not want to leave this heavenly piece of dry stable ground.

He closes his eyes for a second and immediately drifts off to sleep.

"Let's go, my young friend! There is no need to torture ourselves anymore…"

Sean crouches down next to Alva to give him a good shake and only then notices that the young man is actually asleep.

"Oh."

No. 28: DENIAL CCTV | Exposure | “They caught me red handed.”

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Elias is a young magistrate cursed to turn into a blue half-reptile half-man doing his best to hide and temporarily reverse it.

--------------

Your Honour

Elias lifts his head from the paperwork to look at the dwarven guard standing by his desk. He does not usually employ guards but the recent trial has ended with the accuser threatening him for his decision, so he was recommended to take certain precautions but the city watch.

There has been a changing of the guard in his office almost an hour ago and the newly arrived woman has been fidgeting with the beads on her braided beard and stealing glances at him this entire time. Something has clearly been on her mind. Perhaps, she needs an early break?

"What is it?" He asks after observing her for about a minute. "Is something bothering you?"

"Is it true, Your Honour?" The guard asks tentatively, turning her head to look at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

Elias tilts his head, considering what she could mean. She is asking as if it is obvious…

Has the blackmail been released after all?

No-no. That is impossible. He would have been informed if a news article or something of the kind came out about him. Surely it cannot be that.

Perhaps, she is enquiring about his marital status. He has yet to find a partner and he is almost thirty. Maybe, there are rumors about him being a confirmed bachelor?

"What is… ugh… true?" He finally asks trying not to sound nervous and failing miserably. "Is there a new rumor about me?"

"Oh! I'm sorry! Have you not heard?" She gasps and spins around towards him. "Would you like me to tell you?"

She looks eager to be the one to let him know. Or perhaps to gossip. He is unsure.

"I… Yes. I would like to know if there is an issue that I need to deal with…"

"Well…" The guard rubs her chin, contemplating something. "I will be frank, Your Honour... I've heard you are secretly a monster! Like a werewolf of some kind but scarier! Somehow... Anyway. This one guy from my platoon says he heard from another officer who saw you transform once during a trial and try to kill somebody. He does not know the details but the officer who told him says a reporter he knows offered to hire him a mage to test him with one of those Honesty spells to prove he is not lying… I personally don't think it is all that true but I am still curious… Forgive me, Your Honour! I've said too much!"

She suddenly straightens her back and adjusts her uniform. Elias realized that he has been glaring at her this entire time. He did not intend to intimidate her. He was just very concentrated on her words.

This might be the end he was so afraid of. The end of his career and his reputation.

So that is how they decided to release it. Not through a reporter directly but through starting a rumour amoung the city watch and letting it spread from there. Perhaps, they are hoping that one of the hot heads there decides to take matter into their own hands and go monster hunting.

But he swore to himself that he will not lie in this matter. He will face the problem head on.

He takes a shaky breath, steeling himself for the confession. He needs to be honest with her.

Come one, Elias. You can do it.

"I… don't worry. I needed to know, I suppose."

He rubs his hands together and readjusts his gloves. Perhaps…

"Come here. I will show you something."

He hopes he did not sound intimidating again.

The guard approaches with a few quick steps. There is a look of curiosity and slight worry on her face.

"Yes?"

Elias takes a deep breath and tugs his left glove off, exposing his scaled and clawed hand. He needs to take his potion soon, it seems.

The guard gasps as if she has seen a ghost but approaches closer to take a better look.

"What… what happened to you, Your Honour?" She stops to think for a second. "Are you about to transform?"

"No. No. Don't worry. I pose no danger to you or to anyone, really," he begins to explain. "This is a slow curse that transforms me into a… half-reptilian half-human creature. It does not affect my mind, however. Unlike being a werewolf. And I can reverse it temporarily using alchemy…"

The guard nods staring at his hand like it is the most interesting thing she has ever seen.

"I did not intend for this to be revealed to the public but I suppose a certain someone has acted on a threat they made me before the previous trial…"

He sighs.

"Is it true that you attacked somebody?" She asks carefully.

"What is your name?"

"Ah?!" She startles not ready for any questions to herself. "What? Ah! My name! Thorind! Thorind Cinnabar at your service!"

"I see. Well. I hope you can help me Ms. Cinnabar. I do not want the public to think I am some blood thirsty monster. Because I am not. I hope you believe me when I say that."

"Yes! Of course, Your Honour!" Thorind nods vigorously.

"Alright, then… I did attack someone the first time I transformed. But my mind was confused by the sudden change of my body. And it has never happened since. I did not seriously hurt anyone that time… Now, if you agree to help me find and talk to that reporter you mentioned as soon as possible, I would be willing to share the entire story with you."

"Deal!" Thorind grins and stretches her hand out for a handshake excitedly but then clears her throat and steps back. "Ah. Sorry. I agree, Your Honour."

No. 27: VOICELESS Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Dr. Victor Moreau is my mostly human fleshsmith inventor (KibblesTasty Homebrew class).

--------------

Hamster

Victor watches his new creation on the floor of his laboratory with his ears stuffed with cotton. He made it in a drunken haze yesterday so he does not remember the details of putting it together. For some reason it keeps screaming. He sees nothing that resembles a mouth but it sure is loud.

He tried picking it up but shot a spike at his hand out of nowhere, piercing it right through.

It is a ball-shaped skin-covered piece of living flesh roughly the size of a human head. He does remember using a human skull as the basis for its formation but what came after is a mystery. It can produce an extremely prolonged human-like screaming, shoot boney spikes and roll around on its own following some stimuli. Perhaps, if he can keep it alive and train it, it would make a fine mix of a guard dog and an alarm. But if it keeps screaming, it might alert somebody outside his clinic eventually if it ends up in a less isolated room.

Having stitched and wrapped his hand, Victor decided to simply wait and observe the bizarre ball of flesh. He has not been this successful in making creatures this lively when he is sober in ages. Maybe, he should go out like that more often.

He grabs a piece of ham off the table and throws it on the floor next to the ball.

"Come on, little buddy! ... I hope I gave you something to eat with."

The balls stays in place for another ten minutes before rolling over, still screaming, and stopping at the piece. After another minute of loud contemplation, it shoots out another spike and retracts it, dragging the ham into itself with it.

To Victor's surprise the screaming begins to subside soon after.

"So is this the sound you make when you are hungry?" He asks the thing but does not get a response.

"Fuck me, I could get in big trouble if I don't feed you in time and someone hears you, you know? Is that your plan, you little shit?"

He laughs, hopping off his chair and approaching the thing with another piece of ham. He drops it straight on top of it which leads to the flesh spiking and dragging it in right away instead of waiting.

No. 26: NIGHTMARES Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I’m haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Dr. Victor Moreau is my mostly human fleshsmith inventor (KibblesTasty Homebrew class).

Ludwig Richter is a tiefling and a former gravedigger turned archeologist who wields a rifle and a battle shovel named Charon.

--------------

Baking bread

Ludwig does not remember the last time Victor sat down with him to have breakfast.

Their kitchen is filled with the smell of fresh bread and fried eggs. He does not remember cooking but Victor must have done this to take care of him after all the writing he had to do the previous night.

Right.

That must be it.

He is so thoughtful today.

Victor smiles and nudges a basket of fresh sliced bread towards his partner, encouraging him to take a piece.

"Where did you get this?" Ludwig wonders out loud.

"I baked it," he grins.

"Huh? When did you learn that? You barely ever cook."

"Oh, it is not hard to learn at all. It is basically the same as alchemy. You put specific ingredients together in a specific manner using specific temperature and it is done."

That makes sense to Ludwig. What does not – is the way Victor does not move his lips when he says that. His grins stays perfectly in place but the sound keeps coming, making Ludwig feel extremely uneasy.

"How did you say that? Don't tell me ventriloquism is also the same as alchemy."

"Is that the only thing that you find weird in this situation?" Victor asks, lips still unmoving. "Really?"

A shiver runs down Ludwig's spine. He frantically looks around, trying to figure out what else he might mean. The bread? Cooking?

"Ludwig. My love." Victor calls out to draw his eyes to himself again. "You don't live in this house."

How did he not notice?

"You don't even own a house. You live in a giant magical tower, Director Ludwig. How did you even come up with this?"

The chair under Ludwig breaks and crumbles into dust as he falls to his knees. He tries to get up or move away but his limbs feel frozen. The table between them rots and disintegrates in seconds followed by his partner's chair, leaving Victor sitting on air.

"What is happening here?!"

Ludwig helplessly tries to move again and fails again.

"Nothing. Nothing at all, my dear."

Victor's skin turns gray rapidly as it begins to rot, only his smiling head remaining untouched.

"Victor! Wait!"

Ludwig watches his skins, muscles and organs all vanish one by one, until only a skeleton is left. Seconds later it shatters into sharp bone shrapnel, showering Ludwig who is unable to turn away from the shards that pierce his skin.

The heaf falls to the floor.

"I am waiting," Victor's head says as it rolls up to him and stares him straight in the eyes. "I am waiting for you to say it."

"Say what?"

Ludwig remembers right as these words leave his mouth. He remembers Victor dying. He remembers killing his undead body afterwards. He remembers severing his head from his body.

He picks up the head as the entire building around them begins to disappear, able to move again but feeling no desire to run or do anything else. Victor's head turns gray as his eyes turn entirely black. His teeth grow and sharpen.

“Victor…” Ludwig lifts the head up to give it a long soft kiss on the lips and teeth sticking out here and there. “I love you. I’m so sorry I never actually said that. But I love you.”

Just like he did all those years ago.

"Goooood. Good. I love you too, Ludwig, but that kiss was lackluster," the head laughs before unhinging its jaw and lunging at his face.

No. 25: SURGERY Stitches | Being Monitored | “It’s for your own good.”

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Barnaby is a fungal mage who loves mixing drinks. A mycologist mixologist, if you will.

This is a moment from his teenagehood.

Takes place soon after Day 22.

--------------

Bed

"But… Father… I swear, I am not going to go out again! I do not need someone watching me all the time."

"I would like to believe you, Barnabas, but after what happened yesterday it is rather difficult… Besides, you can always ask Polina to bring you a book or whatever else you might need. And she will keep you company."

Polina nods at these words. She has been a maid for the Underwood family for a decade now and knows quite well that the young lord Barnabas has been always prone to sneaking out, despite being repeatedly told not to.

"But… I don't-"

"Do you think my company would be that boring?" She sighs, dramatically and shakes her head with her hand on her chest and her eyes closed. "Do you not like my presence?"

"I- That's not what I said…" Barnaby tries to argue but he is already well aware there is no way out of this situation.

He tried to take a walk in his sorry state and ended up falling when his cane caught on a crack, reopening his leg wounds. The family doctor had to stitch them back all over again. And now his leg hurts even more. And there are already new mushrooms growing on it, so the whole experimental treatment seems to have failed entirely.

"But you implied it, Young Lord," she sniffles. "Do you realize how hurtful your words have been?"

"No. I'm sorry… Alright… I get it."

Barnaby sighs having declared his defeat. It is obvious Polina is faking it but he does not want to argue with her anyway.

"Thank you," his father chuckled humorlessly. "Now rest. You need to prepare for tomorrow if you would still like to try that experimental surgery."

"You mean the new experimental surgery," Barnaby responds, rubbing his hand over the fresh itching stitches and bandages on his leg. "The last one did not do shit. But who knows at this point…"

"Don't touch that area, Young Lord. And, please, watch your language."

Polina puts her hand on his and guides it away from his leg onto the bed.

He nods, absent-mindedly, wondering if there is any merit in even trying. He has a feeling it will not work either. But at least they can rule the method out.

His father nods to the two of them and heads for the door.

"You know, it's for your own good, Barnaby… Your mother and I love you so much… We don't want you to suffer any more than you already are."

"I will. Unless some miracle heals me," Barnaby answers quietly. "I love you too, dad."

His father quickly nods and leaves the room in a sudden hurry. Polina takes her seat at the chair next to him, taking out a book.

"Would you like me to read you a book, Young Lord?"

"I am not a child."

"Would you like me to read you a book, Old Lord?"

Barnaby chortles turning to look at the book. It does not look too boring, he supposes.

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Dr. Victor Moreau is my mostly human fleshsmith inventor (KibblesTasty Homebrew class).

Ludwig Richter is a tiefling and a former gravedigger turned archeologist who wields a rifle and a battle shovel named Charon.

--------------

Collapse

Victor is sitting on top of the pile of debris that used to be his laboratory just a few hours ago, occasionally picking up a small piece of metal, rock or wood and tossing it down half-heartedly. Ten years of hard work. Destroyed because of some stupid glowing rock.

No.

The rock was not stupid.

It was him, who did not exercise enough caution. But he had no way of knowing an explosion of this power would occur. He just placed the glowing rock in a vat of chemicals overnight, wanting to check if the odd poisonous effects of the rock would transfer to the liquid. He has no idea what went wrong. Perhaps, there was something wrong with his equipment? He does not remember if he checked its integrity beforehand. He usually does but there have been times he forgot before.

There were many explosions in his laboratory over the years but none had ever been this severe.

Victor's ever-present smile is almost gone and his eyes look dead, especially with how pale his skin has become these days. He was lucky he was on the second floor when the explosion took place. It did not take Ludwig long to find and dig him out. He only spent a handful of hours under the rubble.

Some of his ribs feel broken or cracked and he has been coughing out blood for a while now but he could fix that. The glowing rock made him do that a lot lately, so he has developed a good elixir to counteract its effects. As for the ribs… he will get to them later. Most of his surgery equipment has been obliterated in the explosion. He hopes they can recover at least some things.

Perhaps, Ludwig and his crew can find his Bag of Holding in the rubble. He has quite a lot of medicine in it.

"Hey… Victor?" Ludwig asks softly, appearing seemingly out of nowhere next to him on the pile. His tiefling hooves are surprisingly good for climbing.

"Yes?" Victor asks without looking at him.

"I have sent for a healer after all. You are clearly not doing well."

"I am fine!" Victor responds grinning up at Ludwig sharply with all his teeth, blood seeping out of his gums and a hole where one of his teeth used to be before the explosion and spreading all over his mouth.

"Victor. I have barely seen you over the past couple years." Ludwig sighs looking quite concerned. " You've been holed up here experimenting with your, frankly fascinating, rock. And now that I do see you, your lab is in ruins and you are obviously in poor health... You clearly need a doctor."

"I AM A DOCTOR!" Victor snaps in sudden rage feeling insulted to his core and more distressed than he has been in many years, smiling from ear to ear, though his lips are twitching. "I get it now! That's what this is about!"

"What? No, Victor, I-"

Ludwig is clearly taken aback, almost stepping away but realizing his precarious position on a piece of a broken wall. He has almost never seen his partner express an emotion this strongly negative.

"No. No. I must be such a failure in your eyes now that I can't even fix myself." He gazes around at the ruined building pointedly. "I get it. Victor has lost his touch. Victor destroyed his lab. Victor is not a real scientist. Victor is not a real doctor. Just some fraud who does not even have a laboratory because he messed up an experiment! Victor gets it!"

He gets up suddenly to come face to face with Ludwig. The rubble shifts and crumbles under his feet, sending him tumbling down with it. Ludwig jumps into action, quite literally, his hooves landing on a flat piece of metal far below with a loud bang. He grabs Victor by one of the leather straps of his dusty apron just as his tumbling sends him into the air head down again and yanks him up into his arms, wrapping them around his waist. Victor is taller than him, so he bends his legs at the knees, so that they don't catch on anything as Ludwig carefully hops down to the bottom of the pile.

Once he is put down, he looks even more hurt than he did before, having taken a few hits while tumbling. Half his face is covered in blood and there are new bruises on the open parts of his arms. He spits out another tooth on the ground between the two of them.

"It seems Victor has dislocated his shoulder. Ah. Serves him right for-" He begins rambling but is cut off by Ludwig grabbing his head and pulling him down into a soft kiss that quickly turn much more intense.

Ludwig leans away a bit after he feels Victor relax and fully focus on the kiss. He spits out Victor's blood before looking up at the man with his brows furrowed.

"I called for a doctor because I love you and I don't want you to be in pain. You are a respectable, if unlicensed, doctor but it does not mean you don't need help... Don't you dare put words into my mouth."

His glare makes Victor finally drop his tense grin that turns into his usual light smile while his eyes glisten with tears just a little from how in love he is at that moment. He should not be unfair to his partner, that he is right about.

"I am sorry, my love…" He says sheepishly. "I just… everything is gone. My lab. My rock. My research. All my other equipment and experiments…"

Ludwig takes his dusty gloved right hand in both of his, petting it gently.

"I understand… my love."

He blushes deeply, unused to saying such nicknames out loud.

"You still have your clinic in the city. And my Tower has your old laboratory. I did not move anything there… Besides, I am sure we will be able to recovered some of your stuff. Don't worry. Most things are recoverable with enough effort and magic… I am happy to help you with everything. And you can always come back with me to the Tower…"

"Because you want to keep an eye on my well-being?" Victor chuckles sarcastically, though he is grinning again, this time with genuine happiness.

"Because I miss you."

Victor giggles, forgetting everything bad that happened to him that day as his heart melts at his love's honesty.

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE Public Display | Broken Pedestal | “I’m doing this for you.”

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Elias is a young magistrate cursed to turn into a blue half-reptile half-man doing his best to hide and temporarily reverse it.

--------------

Exhibit

"Behold! The Horrifying Lizardman! Look at his fangs! Look at his claws! Look at these scars! You might be wondering how such a scary beast ended up with such horrific injuries? Well, I'll tell you... He got them while fighting a wild owlbear! I saw it with my own eyes!"

The circus master calls out, attracting more and more people to where Elias is chained to the outside of his cage unable to go beyond the "safety line" painted on the ground.

His clothes have been stripped off him, leaving him completely naked and unimaginably ashamed, even if his sexual organs are all hidden inside his body. The hair-like feathers on his head have been made a complete mess, as far from his usual tidy brushed-back style as one could imagine. Some of his scales have been pained over to make them appear scarred. And the chains he wears have been enchanted to prevent him from speaking or expressing his real feelings by his own choice, forcing him to experience almost constant blinding rage which makes him try to pull on the chains with all his might to escape and tear out someone's throat.

They made him look like a completely mindless wild beast.

At least on the outside. Inside, he is mostly aware of what is really going on. He wants nothing more than to put something on and take off into the woods around the travelling show.

"It's true! I swear on my father's mustache, and it was, and you will not believe this, even more impressive than mine!"

The circus master lets out a full-belly laugh, lowering his chin and lips to further emphasize his long and bushy facial hair. A couple of kids in the crowd giggle. Most people are much more interested in the weird human-like reptile that roars, belows and hisses at them, than the man himself though. They gawk and point and gossip about how scary the monster is.

"Yes! Yes! Where was I… Ah! Of course! The battle raged on for what must have been an hour by the time I found them! The owlbear was barely standing but refusing to give this beast any ground. Luckily, I was able to intervein just in time to save both of these ferocious but fascinating creatures! You can find that very owlbear at tonight's show! Starting in less than an hour! Do not forget to come see it! You have never seen acrobats like ours! And our freaks come in all shapes and sizes! You will not believe the variety!"

Elias manages to calm down a little. Enough to relax in his chains for a little bit and stop pulling on them. His neck, wrists and ankles hurt like crazy from the metal digging into them. He needs a break.

Only a few seconds of the circus master's story later, something sharp strikes his temple. His scales protect him but it still hurts quite a bit. He looks up to see a younger kid pick up a rock from the ground and throw it at him. As it strikes him in the face, the rage ignites anew. Elias lunges in his chains, letting out a bellowing roar as he struggles against them. He wants to tear the little shit's face off but it is too far away. He wants to tear the circus master's spine out but he is just out of reach.

Most of the crowd recoils at his outburst, taking a step back but the little shit begins laughing and clapping, telling his father that he made the lizard be scary again. The father looks annoyed and mostly apathetic, clearly having had something to drink already.

"It's too loud," he man mumbles to himself.

"Ah! The monster is horrifying, I know. But do not be afraid, our chains can hold a dragon!"

Elias wants to cry as the circus master painfully pokes him in the forehead with his elaborate cane but is unable to. He watches his kidnapper finish his fake story about him fighting an owlbear. He would never do something like that. That thing is way too scary.

The man finally leaves him alone, beckoning the crowd to join him at the next exhibit – The Amazing Lionwoman. Jess.

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | “Oh that’s not good.”

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Barnaby is a fungal mage who loves mixing drinks. A mycologist mixologist, if you will.

This is a moment from his teenagehood.

--------------

Restless

Barnaby shambles out of his room leaning heavily on his new cane to walk around a just little. He has had it for a week now but he just cannot get used to it. He has been explained how to use it properly a couple times but that method is clearly not working now that he has grown even weaker and his leg is in even rougher condition due to the experimental treatment they have been trying on him which involved cutting some mushrooms off him which did not help much but left him with fresh stitched up wounds and a lot of pain.

He has gotten tired of sitting or lying in bed all day. The muscles on the healthy side of his body ache from inaction. This little walk might hurt like hell but he feels so relieved and free that it is worth it. He wonders if he will ever get to climb a tree again or if he will just die in a few more weeks. Nothing the doctors have done to him has helped in the slightest, though he was told he is a rarely resilient patient The Plague is taking its time with him. Which does not necessarily mean he will get better. Just that it will take much longer for the infection to kill him.

He has been told his natural magic is to thank. He had no idea it was awaken until his illness has begun. Everyone in his family can cast spells, so him and his parents have just thought he was a bit of a late bloomer when it came to those powers.

Apparently, no. His magic was just very hard to detect. They classified it as "Adaptive Shapeshifting". They said, it would change his body subtly in response to his physical needs or danger but since he was young and, therefore, just developing his magic, it was too weak and minor to notice in most cases.

This revelation was supposed to be one of the most important moments of his life. He would start getting lessons with a private teacher and getting ready to attend an Academy to hone his magical skills further.

He tried feeling excited but it was futile in the face of his upcoming demise. He has neither strength, nor time to learn even the basics. What is the point of trying then?

His cane catches on a crack in the ancient castle's floor, sending him forward and down and the cane clattering to the ground. He barely manages to catch himself with his hands, so he does not smack his face into the floor.

He feels a sharp tearing pain in his right hip as he tries to get up as well as warmth spreading around there and soaking through his pants. Soon enough he is sitting in a small puddle of his own blood.

"Oh that's not good…" He mumbles to himself, grabbing the cane and leaning on it heavily, as he forces himself to get up.

He finds he can no longer lean on that leg without searing pain, so he turns around and begins to walk back to his room at an even slower pace.

His doctor will chew him out for this for sure, he thinks.

No. 21: BODY HORROR Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Dr. Victor Moreau is my mostly human fleshsmith inventor (KibblesTasty Homebrew class).

Ludwig Richter is a tiefling and a former gravedigger turned archeologist who wields a rifle and a battle shovel named Charon.

--------------

The Rug

When Victor returns to his medical tent, the fresh body they have recovered from the bog is no longer on the surgery table. He hums to himself in intrigued confusion. He did not order anyone to get rid of it or move it. There is plenty more he can uncover about its cause of death and origins. And he himself certainly did not move it. He might be considered a mad scientist, but he is not an amnesiac.

Then where the fuck could it be?

He is fascinated by this small mystery. Small in the grand scheme of their archeological expedition, of course. Disappearing bodies are quite significantly mysterious on their own.

He looks around to see nothing out of the ordinary, so he gets on his hands and knees to check under the beds.

Nothing.

Nothing but a sound of water dripping on the table.

He looks up to finally find it, spread out along the entire ceiling of the large medical tent like a giant flesh rug. Skin, bones and muscles appear to be melted, flattened and stretched out to achieve such thinness. Watered down greenish blood is dripping out of its mouth right above the table. As its half-melted eyes meet Victor's they begin to glow white and the flesh rug begins to emit a gurgling hissing noise. The flesh around where its throat used to be starts to engorge like a balloon with something liquid.

Victor giggles in excitement and waves at the thing. He has not seen a creature this fun in ages. Many emaciated ghouls or bloated zombies, many awakened skeletons and specters but this is… very refreshing. It appears to be some kind of body possession, judging by the glowing eyes, but he wonders if he can make something like that with his alchemical and surgical skills.

He makes a dash for his chemicals cabinet just at the thing vomits a stream the more intensely green liquid in his rough direction. Its aim is piss poor though and it only gets the corner of the table, slowly melting it as it drips down.

The cabinet is full many different pouches, jars and bottles, labeled in barely coherent shorthand but he know exactly what he needs here. Tranquilizer. He could fight acid with acid, he has plenty of that but he cannot let this thing be destroyed before he can study it.

He grabs the bottle he needs as well as his tranquilizer crossbow from the bottom of the cabinet. And quickly slams the door shut as another stream is sent at him. His cabinet can withstand stronger acid than what this thing can muster up but not everything inside it can.

Some of the acid catches him in the shoulder, making him yelp out in pained excitement as it corrodes his skin. Where is the fun in catching a monster like that without some challenge?

He slides under the table and begins loading up his crossbow, preparing to fire several high concentration shots one after another. This thing's bloodstream is spread out all over the place and it will, probably, not die that easily at this point. It might be also immune to being tranquilized but that is a problem for the future Victor.

More acid slams down onto the table, right from the top this time. He will need to acquire a new one quite urgently. Somehow. This expedition has just begun after all. He will have plenty of patients.

He sticks his hand out from under the melting table and begins firing semi-blind shots all over the ceiling. He does not need to worry about hitting it after all.

The gurgling from the above intensifies, sounding a touch distressed at being attacked so many times. The next blast fully melts through the table, making Victor scuttle away on all fours under the nearby sick bed, leaving his crossbow behind. If the tranquilizer works, he will not need to fire any more shots. And if it does not... well, he might have to kill it.

He waits, peeking out a little to see what it is doing.

To his luck, as the flesh rug prepares for another attack, its gurgling starts slowing down and the edges peel off from the ceiling. In a few more seconds it detaches so much that it can no longer hold itself up there, slowly falling down, covering most of the tent like a blanket.

"What the fuck did you do to the body, Victor?!"

He can hear Ludwig's voice muffled by the flesh blanket but he is unsure what it is saying. But he sounds disgusted and very confused.

Victor quickly pushes at the blanket to get it off the bed he is hiding under and climbs out.

"This is not my doing, love!" He reassures the head of the expedition. "This time!"

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | “It’s not your fault.”

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Elias is a young magistrate cursed to turn into a blue half-reptile half-man doing his best to hide and temporarily reverse it.

Takes place right after Day 10.

--------------

It's all over but the crying

Elias has remained fairly stoic since awaking at Rain's house. He had no desire to trouble the alchemist with his emotional turmoil in addition to his physical trauma that needed healing and the curse Rain promised to at least try to undo.

Seeing the fresh blood on Rain's clothes and bed sheets snaps something inside him. He lets out a gasping sob. It comes out of nowhere, startling even himself. Tears begin streaming down his cheeks as he gasps for air and only lets out more sobbing. Hee tries to move back on the bed, away from Rain, so he cannot hurt him anymore.

"It's alright, Elias! Do not worry! It's not your fault! It's not hard to fix. L-look, I'll do it right now."

Rain grabs at his bleeding leg, whispering a simple spell to stop the blood.

"S-see?! It's okay. Don't cry. Please, don't cry!"

The claws on this lizardman's feet are sure sharp. It is not his fault indeed. He merely bucked his leg at the sudden stinging of the medicine on his wound. It was just a natural response of his body.

Rain quickly scrambles further up the bed to pull Elias into a tight hug.

"I am so sorry! I'm sorry! I'm a monster, Rain! I am a bloody monster! They all knew it! They tried to kill me! Maybe, they were right!" Elias rambles, unsure why he is saying those things but every word that comes out of his mouth just makes him cry harder.

"There-there… I suppose, you should let it out then. It should be easier if you keep talking, my friend." Rain whispers, gently patting his scaly back. The texture under his fingers is unlike anything he has ever felt before this moment but this is not a good time to contemplate that.

"I am tired of this, Rain! I am so tired! I just want to go back! I just want to be a normal human again! I don't want to get hurt or hunted or shot! And I don't want to hurt you! Or anyone else! Please! Please, you have to help me, Rain!"

He wants to shut himself up. He is being rude and demanding and selfish but he cannot help it anymore.

"I'll help you, I promise. I'll figure something out…"

Rain glances at Elias' trembling bandaged up tail.

"I wish our first meeting was under different circumstances…"

"Yes!" Elias suddenly cries out. "This bloody village is full of idiots! I tried to tell them who I was! Tried to explain what happened! But they just shot at me! Could you imagine?! They thought I killed… well, my human self and ate him! I did not do anything to them! There was no blood, no body, no evidence I did something wrong. Nor did I pose obvious danger yet they still attacked me! You are living among savages, Rain! Bloody savages! I'm sorry… I'm sorry! But I can't help… I can't help but hate them all…"

This is a tough confession to make. He has always done his best to be understanding and fair even to those who wronged him. But not today. He cannot stand staying silent about this today. They tried to kill him without even a trial. Without even a second of trying to understand him. How could people do that? Do they not have brains? Yes, he might look scary but he did not actually do anything threatening. He is obviously a sentient creature. Not some wild wolf. He did not growl. He did not bare his fangs or even step towards them. He opened his mouth to try to explain who he was but before he knew it, they were aim their crossbows at him.

"It is alright to hate them. I'm sorry for my neighbors. They acted out of fear and they hurt you. They tried to kill you… It is fair to hate them… There-there, my friend! It's all over."

Elias keeps weeping, no longer caring what Rain is going to think about him. He seems to be a good man. He appreciates the hug, the closeness, the warmth.

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | “Is there anybody alive out there?” (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Dr. Victor Moreau is my mostly human fleshsmith inventor (KibblesTasty Homebrew class).

This is a story where he is not human at all.

--------------

Stalking Killing

The footprints in the snow accompanied by a trail of blood are impossible to hide in such clear weather. It will take some pretty heavy snowing to cover up all this mess.

Perfect.

Victor jumps from one tall tree to another, though his thin limbs are long enough to reach between some of the trees if he tried. Such are the perks of being an undead abomination.

He has been tracking this traitorous fucker for two days now. He lost him during a snow storm but to his luck the bastard managed to slash his arm open on a sharp branch. He must think he is safe though, since the tracks do not show too much signs on a hurry or cover up. He must be thinking nobody is coming to get him in these conditions. He has no idea who… or what is about to get him for what he did to the group. For daring to betray Ludwig. If Ludwig was here, the man would be lucky. Ludwig is a kind man under all his tough and strict demeanor. Victor does not have his kindness. He has sharp teeth, long claws and a hunger for flesh. He is not vengeful but knows this man will betray them again if given the chance and is too dangerous to let loose. He has done too much harm. He knows too much. He needs to die.

The trail leads Victor to a small long-abandoned cabin. The door is closed and the window are to small to get through. He climbs higher to not be seen from the windows and circles around the cabin to make sure there is no other way out. He wants to charge in. But he knows his target is armed and his long limbs are easier to hit in close quarters. He will win this fight but getting injured in the process is not in his plans.

He climbs down a little and sneaks a look inside through the back window. It is dark. That is not an issue for his eyes. He can see the traitor, his arm wrapped clumsily with bandages, gnawing on some jerky on a pile of rugs in the corner, not paying attention, clearly half-asleep.

Victor jump on the roof, landing silently into the snow on top. Some of it slides off the roof but no sounds from the inside indicate that his target noticed. He crawls over to the door, carefully clears off a spot for himself to perch comfortably and hangs down head first in front of the door. The windows are too far to be able to see who is behind it.

Perfect.

"HELLO?! Is there anybody alive in there?!" He lowers his voice doing his best impression of what he imagines an average human hunter would sounds like. "Do you need help?"

There is some startled creaking from inside. Something falls to the ground and the traitor curses.

"Yes! Hello! Who is there?!"

He comes up to the door but does not open right away.

"I was hunting nearby. And saw all the blood… Are you alright in there? That looked like a lot!"

"Yes… I… Actually… I might use some help. Do you know how to bandage right? And maybe… Maybe you know how to get somewhere? Anywhere where there are people? I got lost in the storm and ended up here, you see."

"Of course, bud! I can get you to the village… As for the bandages… I can certainly take a look!"

Victor is genuinely curious how deep that wound is. That was quite a lot of blood the man lost.

A bar slides out with a loud creak and drops on the floor. Victor take this as his cue to pull himself back up and prepare to strike, readying his right arm for the motion. The door slowly creaks open and the traitor's silhouette can be seen in the frame. He looks very confused and takes a step out to look around. As his head appears in the open, Victor's long arm strikes down, grabbing his head, clawed fingers piercing his eyes, and yanking him up onto the roof.

The traitor squeals almost like a pig and reaches for his axe blindly but the noise is cut short as by the loud crack of his neck as it is snapped with ease by Victor's powerful limbs.

He looks around to make sure nobody saw him and drops down into the shack dragging the body with him. It is quite cold outside. Even if his undead body will not freeze to death, it is still unpleasant. He closes the door and locks it again. He does not want any disturbances.

No. 18: REVENGE Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what’s mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor’s New Clothes)

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

Cyrus is a tiefling warlock whose rich parents made him hide his tiefling features since he was born, going as far as to removing most of his horns, magically transforming his hooves into feet and forcing him to wear a magical disguise ring in order to hide their family's old deal with a demon.

I initially played him in BG3 and now I'm hoping to get to play him in a real DnD campaign some day.

--------------

Mildly NSFW

Tiefling

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | “We had a good run.”

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

Alva is a totally different character now compared to the first couple of stories about him in this challenge. I changed him almost entirely from the "radio host found of the supernatural, horror and mystery". He is now a young IT teacher sent to work in a small town who ends up stranded on a strange island with his older fatherly colleague Sean after a fishing trip gone wrong.

This is a story about how they found that island.

--------------

Land

"You know… We had a good run, didn't we?"

Alva nods slowly, looking up at the older man in utter exhaustion. His eyes are dead. He has no desire to open his mouth. Too fucking sick of salty water ending up in it. There is no salvation from this boat. Alva knows he is going to die. He has accepted it and just wants it all to end as soon as possible.

His companion Sean shakes his head at him but does not want to argue. His younger colleague is clearly exhausted and not in the mood. It is understandable. They might die here. Eventually. But they may get rescued. Who knows? He is just bored at this point.

"Alva. You should not be so... negative. We will get rescued eventually! Don't worry… Would you like more of that... uhm... sashimi? Look, I sliced it much thinner this time, just like you told me! ... I think! I am curious if it is actually going to taste any better."

"It might…"

Alva wills himself to sit up. He does not want any more fish but he is curious if there is a difference. Dying can wait.

The fish truly looks thinner. Not what he used eat at Japanese restaurants back when he used to live in the city but still comparatively thin.

Him and Sean both take a piece. They stare at each other for a bit. Neither is sure why. They are bored. And cold. And tired. Looking at each other intensely without explanation is the closest thing they have to entertainment.

That and telling stories but they have been running out of inspiration and ideas.

"Alright. Three… Two… One! Go!"

Alva puts the piece into his mouth, trying his best to enjoy it. It is not horrible. But still the exact same fish they had in the morning. Now even more salty. It might go bad soon, based on the taste.

"Same."

"Same."

They chuckle, though Alva's laugh is more of a subconscious mimicry than genuine amusement. Sean is having fun. He smirks.

"You lied to me again, young man."

"I did not. The fish must be wrong. Or you did not cut it thin enough…"

"I mean... the fish does taste somewhat wrong. We should probably try getting another one…"

"We should."

Alva sighs, looking at their fishing rods. Who knew such a relaxing activity could end up in this disaster? They will probably end up dying on this boat eventually. They will never see land again.

"Alva! I see land!"

Sean grabs him by the shoulders, yanking him around to look behind.

Alva cannot see that far. He thinks he sees a small something on the horizon. He takes his glasses out of the chest pocket of his shirt and puts them on to get a better look.

"Huh…" He says. "It truly is land… IT'S LAND, SEAN! WE'RE SAVED!"

He jumps up to his feet, making the boat sway dangerously at the sudden movement. Fear overtakes him for a second. What if they die because he capsizes the fucking boat? That would be the most stupid way to go. He sits back down carefully.

"Told you we'll make!"

Sean laughs quickly putting away the fish and taking out their emergency paddle, which is just a regular paddle but broken in half, making the handle quite short. Alva flips around rolling up his sleeves and dipping his hands into the water, so he can try paddling a little as well.

No. 16: NECROSIS Swamp | Wound Cleaning | “No, I can’t feel anything.”

AO3 got banned in my country and VPNs have not been working well on my PC lately, so I am not going to post these there for now. But hopefully I can do that at some point.

This is taking place in my own DnD/fantasy world.

Barnaby is a fungal mage who loves mixing drinks. A mycologist mixologist, if you will.

This is a moment from his teenagehood.

--------------

Healing

"How about this spot? I'm touching it now."

Barnaby's remaining eye is closed to make sure he cannot "cheat" with his vision.

"No… I still can't feel anything."

His words are slow and slurred, there are fresh stitches and bandages on the inside and the outside of his mouth and all over the right side of his face where the mushrooms have been removed. Thankfully, his mouth and throat did not have too much damage to them compared to his torso and leg. The doctor said he should be able to start chewing in a couple weeks, though he will still have to eat only the herbal "soup" he is fed for every meal now for a while longer, due to the condition of his stomach.

"That is good… Well, at least for our purposes," the doctor sounds like he is tired but not necessarily in a bad mood. "You can open your eyes now... Excuse me, eye."

Barnaby chuckles and complies. He has to turn his head a lot to let his left eye look at what the surgeon is doing to his left leg which does not make his neck all too well but he was told it was okay to do it, just not too quickly. There is a long and thick needle sticking out of the dark mass of intertwined flesh and fungus on his hip. As it is pulled out, something reddish brown begins slowly oozing from the wound. It look very concerning but not too bad compared to what his body looked like when the mushrooms where actively growing all over its right side, tearing through the flesh while they drained his life away.

"Alright. I will need to perform the same procedure as with your face and your side."

As the doctor speaks, he is handed a syringe without a needle full of some clear liquid that he sticks into the newly created hole to flush it "clean". Barnaby still cannot feel anything but watches the steam with grim fascination. He thinks being a doctor could be very interesting. Maybe, he should give studying medicine a go, once he is recovered. He never really thought about what he wanted to do with his life, aside from taking over the family's mushroom farms management. But that is a necessity that would come along with the title of the Marquess of Myconia, not something he is all that eager to do. Not that he hates the idea. It just sounds pretty boring.

"This should not take as long as with your side, since I will not need to work on your internal organs this time but it'll still be a while. A lot of the dead muscle tissue needs to be taken out and regrown. I have all the elixirs and potions I need right here on this table. I will need you to drink some of them when I say so, got it? Same as last time when I was working on your arm."

"Yes. I remember."

He tries to nod a little too fast and feels some of the stitches in him tighten, so he stops to avoid any more pain.