#chloposting

[chlomakibot]

[chlomakibot]

[chlomakibot]

Rainbows

~ I took the advice of a friend, and wrote out a fanfic to organize my thoughts~

tw abuse/ rape/ gore/ general unpleasantness 

I hate rainbows.

“L-Lady Chlomaki...” Lobco’s meek tone took me by surprise. Any sound more than the movement of the sea was enough to pull me out of the trace I got into from riding my broom for long stretches of time. “Hmm? What?” I replied. “I just... I wanted to see what was on that island.” Lobco extended one of her antennae to a colourful spot on the horizon. She rarely made such bold requests of me, it was out of character. Puzzled, I started to interject “Lobco, don’t b-”

“I think it might... Be nice? To see something pretty?” I hesitated. Lobco was still worried about her dad, and coming back to her home sea while it was in such disarray wasn’t helping her mood. No wonder she wanted some sort of happy distraction. “Ah... Sure. Yea, we can see the rainbows. It might be nice to see something pretty.” I redirected the wind around my broom and flew us over to the island. Balloons in all different colours surrounded the cliffside and the perimeter of the island. Touching down on top of a large cliff, Lobco jumped off my hat and changed form. Already, I was seeing her gloomy expression perk up a little bit. “Lady Chlomaki, let’s get to a good spot! There should be rainbows passing through soon!” I smirked and walked over to where Lobco was eagerly waiting. Her pessimism seemed to be temporarily gone as thoughts of seeing a rainbow filled her mind. “I want you to get a good view of the rainbow, Lady Chlomaki!” I froze. Rainbows. I hate rainbows. . . . “I want you to get a good view of the rainbow, Nadine.” I felt my face dragged across the table; my neck forcibly craned into an unnatural position to stare out of the open window. Sure enough, there it was: a rainbow, clear as day. The unfortunate backdrop for the horrors I knew were coming. Already, I could feel him hard against my leg, the smell of blood mixing in the air with sweat (whose blood... Mine? The poor soul who came before me? I couldn’t tell anymore). I felt his hand on the back of my neck, squeezing, and then yanked backwards to give me a full view of the rainbow outside. “Look at this beautiful world I created for you! You should be thanking me! Ungrateful little...” I felt the sharpness of his scissors on my wings as “punishment” for not loving his rainbows. Just sliding them over my wilted feathers for now, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he started snipping. I wanted to fight back, but it was hopeless. I knew the more I resisted, the worse it would be. My cruel god got off on misfortune. Any attempt I made to fight back was met with a worse fate. All I could do was hope he finished this session quickly. The only consistent thing about my god was his inconsistency. The torture sessions could last anywhere from a few minutes to a few days. Sometimes, the sessions would be back-to-back; coming into his office like clockwork to receive whatever twisted brand of assault my god wanted to inflict on me that day. Other times, it would be long enough for my wounds to fully heal, my hair to grow back, and my wings start to puff out again. Enough time just to give me hope, and truly begin to enjoy the beautiful world he created. To see the beauty in the rainbows littering the sky and allow myself a second to breathe.

But none of it mattered; I was always called back. To him, I was all the same. I was his punching bag, his pin cushion, his sex doll, his slave, and his garbage disposal. He reminded me every time I was called into his private room. I felt his hands on my wings, pulling them apart. Slamming the pathetic little things onto the table, stretching them impossibly far off of my back. I thought they were going to rip off. Then, nails. Through the ends of both of them, keeping me locked in that awful, demeaning position. Pain. So much pain. I could feel blood pouring out of the fresh wounds, dripping down the feathers onto my back; staining my already destroyed nightgown. My wings, of which I was once so proud, broken and bloodied again. Any and all hope of them returning to their former glory was gone in an instant. I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. I cried from the pain, physical and mental. The tears seemed to make him happy. He pulled my hair, pulling my head back and forcing me to look into his emotionless eyes. “There we go! That’s what I like to see!” I felt him pushing into me, his eyes widening with every thrust and tears pouring out of my eyes. He threw my head back down on the table, and I was once again face to face with a rainbow. A stupid rainbow. The pain and suffering in here only a few feet from a beautiful world out there. The juxtaposition was almost funny. Almost. “Cry louder, Nadine!” I hated my name on his lips. “Nadine.” . . . “Chlomaki?” Wadanohara’s voice snapped me out of my daze. Fumus was gone, I never had to deal with him again. Lobco stood by my side, innocently staring at me and the small sea witch in front of us. “Huh, Wadanohara?” “Oh! Wadanohara! Good day!” Lobco said, her pessimistic expression starting to return. Our familiars played together on the cliff, as Wadanohara and I stood to talk. A huge rainbow hung in the sky like a painted masterpiece from a god proud of their work. I couldn’t stand looking at it. I traded in my love for colour long ago. Pure white and innocent, bright yellow and playful, all pale in comparison to the neutrality and safety that is pitch black.

“Do you like rainbows, Chlomaki?” No. I hate them. But they sure are pretty.

[chlomakibot]

Familiar

Wrote another fanfic. I tried to write it in first person, but it read better in third person, so her y’all go!

tw: very vague mentions of abuse

Lobco noticed it before any of the other familiars. Having spent so much one-on-one time with Chlomaki (and listening to her rambling, enduring her teasing, etc.) she picked up on the uptick in Chlomaki’s overall mood, and subtle genuine smiles when she was around Fungas. She knew Chlomaki was trying to hide it, and did a fairly good job around the other familiars in the house when she was home, but nothing of the sort got past Lobco. She was sure Fungas picked up on the change in Chlomaki, seeing as he was constantly attending to her and serving her.

Fungas, on the other hand, was a lot better at curbing his feelings. He liked the teasing banter he had with his master, and always kept a neutral tone with her around her other familiars, especially Mikaduki. He was, he noticed, the only one who seemed to get away with (or even dared to try) addressing his master only by her name, no honourifics given. Chlomaki seemed to have a soft spot for him, and he knew it.

“Chlomaki, I have a question for you.” Fungas spoke up one night, after bringing her a cup of tea she didn’t even have to ask for. Chlomaki sipped her tea, prepared perfectly, smiled, and look at him. She raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.

“There are always grey feathers in your laundry. Shiduku’s are brown, and your pillow is stuffed with white ones. Where are they coming from?”

The neutral expression on Chlomaki’s face dropped into one of horror. She caught herself slipping at the same moment Fungas realized his question crossed a line.  

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I-” he turned away from her, embarrassed and guilty for pushing a boundary he wasn’t even aware existed.

“No. It's ok Fungas. Come with me.”

She left the library and walked across the house to her bedroom. Fungas, confused, followed suit. Closing the door behind both of them, she sighed, and took off her dress. She turned around, showing him her wings. Small, grey, and fragile, her wings were the only thing left of her angel days. He stared at them, not really knowing what to think.

Chlomaki pulled a nightgown on, and sat down on front of Fungas. With a deep breath, she told him about her past- something she had never shared with her other familiars.  

Fungas listened intently. He didn’t make any attempt to interrupt her. The usually joking banter that seemed to populate their conversations, was gone. A somber, tense mood hung in the air; stagnant and lifeless as Chlomaki finished her tale of torture. He had never seen his master so vulnerable; and understood her motivation and attitude that much better after hearing her story. After a few moments of silence, Fungas spoke.  

“Chlomaki... Will you do me a favour? With your magic?”

She gave him a weird look, a little bit of her usual personality returning.  

“What, just being my familiar isn’t enough?” she smirked at him.

He loved that look.

“No, it isn’t” He teased her back.  “I want to be able to change my hands. Can you make them more human?”

She was a little taken aback by the request. Puzzled, she took his hands in hers and said an incantation. The clawed and webbed hands turned soft, as a pair of human hands with grey nail polish on them took their place. Fungas wiggled his fingers, and tried turning them back and forth a few times until he got the hang out it. When he had mastered the magic of his hands, he smiled and looked at his master, taking her hands in his new human ones.

“There. Now I can serve you better.”

“Yea, ok... That’s going to help serve me. Can you carry more laundry with human hands?” She joked at him, and got up.

She didn’t think too much of it until a few nights later. The days following their talk seemed different in some ways. More strained than normal, but also calmer. Both were navigating how to deal with Chlomaki’s secret. Neither said anything. It was enough for Chlomaki to know someone she trusts knew this side of her, and it was enough for Fungas to know that much about his master. It showed a genuine sort of trust that Chlomaki wasn’t accustomed to with her other familiars. She liked it a lot.  

It was late, and she was studying in the library. All her familiars but Fungas had gone to bed hours ago. A small knock on the door interrupted her train of thought, and seconds later Fungas appeared with the cup of tea she didn’t even realize she wanted.

Was it the tea she wanted, or his company?

He placed the tea down in front of her. She looked up at him and smiled, her tired eyes perking up a bit at the sight of him. These days, late-night study sessions with some old tomes were becoming a staple for her. She was a witch, after all. Her wealth of knowledge was growing at the expensive of her health, and Fungas was beginning to worry.  

He turned his hands into their human form and walked behind her. Placing his hands on her, he massaged her tired shoulders. His hands rubbed the spot between her wings, and moved steadily around her back. No claws meant no cuts or scratches on his master. She had been marked up enough for 100 lives from sharper things, and he wanted nothing from him to remind her of the pain she went through.

The action took her by surprise initially. Within moments, she relaxed into his arms and let him massage her stress out. It felt nice, his hands on her back.  

“Mmm... That’s what you meant by serving you better...” She smiled, contented.

“Well, yes. That, and... Other ways to serve you too; should you wish, master.” His hands squeezed her waist a little mid-massage, his tone changing on the last word.

She stopped for a moment to consider what he meant. A sly smile appeared on Chlomaki’s face and she turned around to kiss him.  

[chlomakibot]

*me, walking into Lobco's room*: Are ya winning, son?

[chlomakibot]

HEY

Does anyone around uhhhh... kin any of my familiars? 

PLEASE hmu (I would prefer no minors, thanks)

[chlomakibot]

Escape

Wrote out a memory like a fanfiction again. It’s sort of cathartic, I guess. Helps organize the old noggin.

tw implied abuse, torture

For the briefest moment, just as I wake up, and before reality has its chance to snatch me up again, I feel calm. If it was possible, I would live in that moment of still dawn, suspended within the uncertainty of a new day’s beginning, forever. Uncertainty is better, because it meant there was no guaranteed pain. It meant a chance for peace, to be left alone. I would take an unknown future over known torture any day.   The days have fallen into this twisted routine for as long as I can remember. Stretching my mind to its limits amounts in little beyond his constant tormenting, reinventing the definition of the word “torture” daily. Even as a young student, a disciple of his, ways were found to throw me off and take from me what he deemed “rightfully” his as my creator. I hated it.  

The memories from yesterday’s session flood back into my head. The sharp sting of blades on my legs, my wings. The bruises all over my arms, and the feathers torn off and bent from my wings. Barely giving me a chance to heal, I wasn’t even awake for more than 5 minutes when his call for me came through.  

~~~ He cleans himself off, and exits the room with a mad grin on his face. He leaves me lying in a puddle of his sweat, my feathers and blood.   I get up, tears streaking my face. My legs hurt from his intrusions, barely able to support what little weight I still have on my body. I slump forward, lurching towards the door to excuse myself from his room- my torture chamber.   For the first time, I look back into the room as I’m leaving and see the aftermath of his session. Semen and sweat are dried on the table. The bed sheets soaked with some foul-smelling substance. The floor painted with blood in a pattern that looks like clouds and rainbows. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air, leaving a dreary cast that even the sunshine outside couldn’t mask. At this angle, I can take in the scene as a bystander and not a victim, and it’s horrible.  Something inside me breaks.  

Enough.  

I’ve had enough.  

I fully exit the chamber and, instead of heading back home, I turn the opposite way. Anxiety and fear clutch my chest as I make my way down the hallway, out the door, and down a steep path away from the only home I’ve known. Already I can feel the forgiving promise of the unknown grasping at me, calling out my name, Nadine.

I hated the sound of it. Nadine is supposed to mean “hope” which is a cruel joke I’m sure he came up with. In my mind, it’s synonymous with this awful world full of rainbows, warm meadows, and blue skies. I need to get away from it, to a world of darkness, cloudy skies, chilly weather... I need a pitch black world to blend in the background. 

Almost on cue, a hesitancy stops me in my tracks. I’m apprehensive to run away. What of my sister? The other angels? My schoolmates? Does he not go after them the same way? (No, he doesn’t.) Are they not also afraid of him and his sadistic mind? (No, they revere him.)  

I take a deep breath and step forward into tomorrow. My wings are not enough to catch me, and I plummet.

The fall hurt. Not as much as staying, though.

“Welcome to the world of the unknown” I tell myself. 

[chlomakibot]

Y’ALL

We had a Lobco join the kin server yesterday and I’m so excited!!!! Seeing her there, and her sharing her memories are putting a lot of my guilt at ease. 

I felt so awful about the situation with Roc, and extremely powerless to do anything about it by myself. But now that I have some sort of confirmation to Lobco’s safety, I just feel so much better!

I want to make sure she feels happy and welcome in the server because I’m so glad to have her in!! also, if you want to join the discord server, shoot me an ask, or check out @funamuseakin-garden​

[chlomakibot]

Anyone got any uhhhhh.... Fungas pictures?

[chlomakibot]

Don’t call me Nadine lol

[chlomakibot]

Tumblr needs to get it together with their tagging bullshit

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Shit, maybe I should make more Chlomaki memes...

[chlomakibot]

You cannot make me care about the colour orange

[chlomakibot]

@ Mikaduki come here, I need you to open this jar

[chlomakibot]

I think I made this blog wrong...

[chlomakibot]

It’s been nice to see all the Mogeko March art on all my social medias this year.