eizzhah - Tumblr blog

eizzhah · 29 days ago

Text

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter seven

synopsis: you get into some shenanigans while on the run, reminders of your past coming back to haunt you in the process. and phosphorus comes to a life changing conclusion about you.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, this one's a doozy, reader deserves the world, mahalat is just... mahalat.

The sound of soft panting forced you to slowly come to, a faint groan leaving your lips as your eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sight of an irradiated back and the visible spine underneath.

'Phos...'

You attempted to move, but winced, your entire body aching from head to toe, and your strength not yet returned to break free from his hold.

Not to mention your mind was exhausted from the mental battle you fought to regain control over your body.

Healing be damned, you felt like you'd been hit by an eighteen-wheeler...

"Morning, sleepyhead," Phosphorus sang, looking both ways before quickly running across a back-alley street, just barely avoiding a Pokolistani jeep. "Sweet dreams?"

"Where the hell are we?" you grumbled, weakly lifting your head and turning to face him.

"A town, I think," he answered, making a sharp right turn. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's the last one before we reach the castle."

"Where are the others?"

"Couldn't tell ya. After we got split up, and you decided to drop by, I high-tailed it. The police were on my ass."

"Still are," you scoffed with a chuckle, nodding to the faint sirens in the background. "This your first time dodging the cops, princess?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to complain, snoozy. I'm still waiting for when it's time for us to switch."

"Like hell I'm carrying you. By the time I get back to prison, I'll be on chemo for the rest of my life."

"Demons don't get cancer."

"Skeletons don't have dicks."

"You gonna keep bringing that up?"

"I—" "Shush."

Sliding between two houses, he effortlessly hopped a brick wall, dropping the both of you into a bush just as two more jeeps drove past.

Using his hands, he put you down and pulled apart a few branches, peeking to see if the coast was clear.

You, on the other hand, were starting to really wake up, realizing that you seemed to have a fresher injury on your backside.

"Fuck, why does my ass hurt, too?" you groaned, rubbing it in an attempt to soothe the pain.

"Well... I may have smacked it once," Phosphorus admitted, suspiciously. "Or twice... possibly three times... a little over four? Honestly, I lost count after tenth or twelfth time."

SMACK!

"You keep doing that. It turns me on more than you think," he chuckled, adjusting his jaw.

"Pervert!" you whisper-yelled, pissed. "We talked about this! Hooker rules!"

"No kissing on the mouth?"

"Stripper rules."

"What was I supposed to do? You've seen your ass, you should be proud I held out as long as I did," he defended, the two of you standing up and pressing against the side of the house, using the roof as cover from the helicopters.

"Oh, yeah? And how long was that?"

"Five minutes."

"You're impossible."

Managing to reach the front door, Phosphorus melted the handle, unlocking it and allowing you both to slip inside before the search-light could catch you.

Panting, the two of you finally took a moment to breathe, looking around to familiarize yourselves with your surroundings.

"Here," you sighed, pulling off his lab coat and tossing it to him as you headed toward the living room. "I'm changing."

'Fuckin' Christ...'

He could practically feel his pants tightening at the sight of you, naked as the day you were born—save for your boots.

You looked so sexy in the moonlight, and your unabashed confidence only added to the appeal.

"Y'know..." he cleared his throat, shoving his arms through the sleeves before rolling them up. "I think now's a good a time as any to take a nice break. Relax... kick up your feet... let off a little steam..."

"Save it," you scoffed, opening the hallway closet and rummaging around until you found a black trash bag. "We've got enough to worry about."

In the bag was a secret stash of clothes, ranging on a scale of scandalous to downright slutty.

'Perfect.'

Fishing around, you managed to pull out a pair of black, open-stitch, boot-cut jeans, a matching jean jacket, and a black, leather bikini top.

"And just my size," you grinned, quickly tugging them on.

"How'd you know that stuff was there?" Phosphorus asked, confused.

"She's a pretty woman in a European country. Nine times out of ten, she was a party girl at some point," you explained, nodding to the photos on the wall as you tied up the pants. "But she grew up. Got a husband... bought a house... had a kid. They can't see this filth, but she doesn't have the heart to throw away the memories along with it. So she shoves it in a garbage bag and stuffs it in the back of the closet."

The man turned, examining the pictures, quite surprised to see that your educated guess was correct.

She was pretty, and she had a husband and daughter.

A daughter... whose face reminded him so much of his son.

"M'catchin a few more Zs before we move on," you announced, adjusting the jacket as you plopped yourself down on the couch, closing your eyes.

"Uh huh," he answered, mindlessly, as he continued to stare at the photo.

A daughter... whose face reminded him so much of his son.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"Please! Have mercy!" your mother wailed, frantically struggling against her binds as she looked around the room, searching for a kindred face past the velvet hoods. "I'll do anything!... Oh, God! I'll give you anything you want!"

But not a single one of them stopped, the entire room of cultists pressing on like she wasn't even there, continuing to bow in sync around the altar she rested upon.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"M-Money! I have money! Say whatever number, I'll give it to you!" she begged, gasping and choking for air as she attempted to get her words out, tears rolling down her cheeks in rivulets. "My house! Take my house! It's all yours! Please!"

Out from the darkness, the Grand Master emerged—along with his two attendants—a silver tray in hand.

On it were only two things:

A wooden bowl... and a ceremonial dagger.

"Oh, God!" your mother sobbed, pulling violently against the ropes that strapped her pregnant self to the table. "Please! Have mercy!... I haven't done anything wrong!"

But he drew nearer still, one of the attendants taking the tray as they reached the table, the Grand Master taking the dagger.

The handle was made entirely out of human bone, its carvings depicting the souls of the damned and their infinite torture in Hell.

Reverently, he grasped it with both hands, carrying it over until the dagger's pointed tip was aimed directly for your mother's heart.

"Please..." she pleaded for the final time, unable to stop the second wave of tears from flowing down her cheeks. "Not my baby."

But her pleas fell on deaf ears, the Master's face stone cold as he plunged the knife into her heart, her screams of pain muffled by the raging thunder and lightning outside.

Quickly taking the bowl, the Master used it to catch her blood as it spilled from her chest, waiting until the woman lost consciousness before pulling away.

"Tekchau ma'at tu na ekk bay pavak!" he bellowed, dipping his two fingers in the blood before drawing an intricate symbol over your mother's pregnant belly.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

Suddenly, the satanic markings on the wall began to glow dark red, illuminating the room with a presence that would make any sane person turn tail and run.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"TEKCHAU MA'AT TU NA EKK BAY PAVAK!"

"SUNUK ZETAM MA'AK KULA BAA NAT SU DA MAHALAT!"

Roaring with passion, the Master stabbed your mother in the stomach, violently tearing it open as the followers mimicked the sound.

And with a deafening, other-worldly shriek, a malevolent shadow burst from the wound, instantly slashing the Master's throat before moving on to the others.

Blood-curdling creams of panic and terror echoed throughout the room as the followers were murdered left and right, unable to escape as the being had locked all the doors and windows.

Amidst the chaos, one of the attendants rushed to your mother's side, dodging flying limbs and splattering blood.

Sadly, your mother was long dead, but the attendant was quick to reach her hands inside her stomach, quickly fishing around before grasping onto the reason for this whole ritual.

You.

Carefully, she pulled your tiny body out, a smile breaking out onto her face at the sight of your reddened skin, pointed ears, and tail.

You were beautiful...

But her happiness was short lived, the shadow-being finishing off the last follower before zooming over to you, entering your body through your nostrils and successfully possessing your infant self.

Instantly, your tail whipped up and stabbed the attendant in the neck, forcing her eyes wide.

With a sickening slice, you slashed her throat, dropping her to the ground.

She died almost immediately... but not without uttering two final words.

"Praise Mahalat."

"Ladies and Gentlemen! It is my pleasure tonight to show you an act that had never been performed in the history of the world!" the ringmaster announced, his proud statement met with the starry eyes of hundreds of children and parents.

"Tonight... I debut the newest headliner of my show! A marvel by which the likes of you have never seen!"

Nervously, a six year-old you shifted on your feet, waiting patiently on the riser for your cue.

This was going to be your first time performing in front of an audience...

"We've pulled out all the stops tonight! Of course, for the audience, but also for a very special guest we have this evening! Everyone! Please give a big, warm welcome to Mr. Vice President [REDACTED]! And his lovely wife!"

The crowd roared with applause as the spotlight moved to him, the Vice President giving a proud smile and a strong wave before the ringmaster returned to his introduction.

"Now without further ado, I present to you the Hellish Wonder! The Monstrous Spectacle! The Flying Demon of Gotham! (y/n)!"

Quickly, you grabbed your bar, pushing off and swinging directly into the spotlight, earning loud gasps of surprise and wild roars of applause.

Using your momentum, you dismounted, performing three forward flips before Greta—a fellow trapeze artist—caught you by your ankles, swinging in the other direction.

The crowd ooed and ahhed at your display, watching intently as you performed moves that had never been done before—with about as much effort as wiggling your pinky toe.

"You are doing wonderful, (y/n)!" Greta encouraged as she swung over, catching you by your ankles before gravity took her back the way she came.

"Really?!" you asked, eagerly, relieved to hear that you were doing well, and that the crowd was loving the show.

"Ja!" she laughed, warmed by your excitement. "A few more moves and you'll be done! Make me proud!"

As she swung forward again, you let go, doing five backflips in a row before grabbing onto a rope, using it to swing yourself around to the audience.

There, you leaned over, giving high-fives to all the kids as you flew past.

"Cool!"

"Awesome tail!"

"Look at her horns!"

You were over the moon, baffled by all the overwhelming positivity you were greeted with.

In fact, you were so over the moon that you'd failed to pay attention to the last kid, your nail grazing his palm a little too harshly and drawing blood.

"Ouchie!"

The instant you got a whiff... it was all over.

"Time to feed!" Mahalat's voice cackled in your mind, forcing you to gasp and lose focus.

She took over in an instant, launching you at the boy and clamping your fangs down on his arm, tearing it from his socket.

The surrounding crowd let out screams of horror as you began to feast right then and there, tearing into the limb like a feral animal.

But the demon wasn't one to let food go to waste.

Opening your mouth, she flew into the air, spinning around as she blew blazing hellfire in all directions.

The crowds of hundreds trying to escape the big top were immediately set aflame, shrieks of agony and torture bounding through the air.

"(y/n)!" Greta shouted, swinging over and landing on your back, throwing an arm around your neck. "Stop this! You are hurting them!"

But it all went in one ear and out the other, Mahalat grabbing her by her face before effortlessly tearing her head off her shoulders, preventing her from saying anything else.

In a bout of irony, the demon bit her lips off, taking the head as she flew through the roof of the tent, leaving the countless families to burn to death as she soared through the night sky.

Enjoying her midnight snack.

"What the—? Where am—AAAAAAAAAH!" you shrieked, eyes shooting wide as they landed on the sight before you.

An absolute massacre...

Viscera flooded the closed off street, slowly sinking into the city sewers as the rain attempted to wash it away.

Half-eaten, dismembered limbs were strewn everywhere—in the punch bowl, on the buffet table, hell, you had someone's leg in your arms.

Your mouth and hands were covered with blood, the taste of human meat fresh on your tongue.

And all you had done was leave to go to the store...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!" you frantically threw away the leg, trembling violently as your hands moved to tightly grasp your hair.

Even the children weren't safe, a tiny hand with a Dora the Explorer watch sitting not too far away.

"These are the consequences of your rebellion, (y/n)..." Mahalat stated, coldly. "You forget your place."

Horrified, you turned around, utterly hysterical as you barfed up a bloody mess.

Eventually, though, you caved, racked with sobs as you crumpled into yourself, wanting nothing more than to be arrested and put to death.

But fate had other plans, the Dark Knight himself swooping in as your angel of mercy.

As he stood over you, surveying the scene, his expression dropped slightly in an uncharacteristic bout of pity.

Especially when you weakly grabbed onto his cape.

"Please..." you begged, voice barely above a whisper. "Kill me."

"Yana!" a voice shouted, snapping you out of your sleep.

Abruptly, you sat up, eyes frantically scanning over the room in search of Phosphorus.

But he was nowhere to be found.

'Shit.'

Jumping off the couch, you used your sense of smell, following his scent all the way to backyard.

The backyard... where he was playing with a little girl.

And the backyard... where her mother and father were less than pleased.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, carefully putting the girl down and letting her run back to her parents. "We were just... pretending to fly."

Sensing the sincerity in his voice, you saved the scolding, deciding not to ask questions.

'We gotta get moving.'

"C'mon," you sighed, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the fence as you turned to the parents. "Thank you for the clothes!"

You let him hop over first before following, waiting until you both got a good distance away from the house before you spoke up.

For the very first time since you'd known him, he was completely silent, not saying a word as you trudged over a grassy hill.

Not one pun.

Not one sex joke.

Not even a single pass at you.

Just... nothing.

It worried you, making an odd string to tug at your heart and force you to get to the bottom of it.

"Phos?" you started, softly, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

Lifting his head, he turned to you, eyes widening as—for a split second—your expression morphed into that of his late wife.

Right then and there, it felt as if his whole paradigm shifted, the jigsaw pieces of his life seeming to fall into place right before him.

Taking the shape of you.

Your laugh... your smile... your warmth—they were things he wanted to be in the presence of well-past the end of the mission.

He wanted you, past a friend or a fuck, but as someone to stay by his side, someone to hold.

Someone to care about again...

"Alex..." he blurted, unable to take his eyes away from your face. "Call me Alex."

Surprised, your eyes widened slightly, a familiar burn rising to your cheeks at his intense stare.

But the shock was quick to subside, replaced with understanding as you stopped in your tracks, smoothly taking his hand in yours.

Intently, he watched, your touch singeing his skin as you held his hand, flashing him a coy smile.

"Alright, Alex... let's go kill a princess.

432 notes · View notes