#which. I’m not sure if underwater bubble shadows are a thing. I’m probably wrong

[redhotarsenic]

Had to get creative with the bubbles in that picture cuz like. I didn’t wanna draw a fuckton of bubbles by hand and I was getting to the point where I was sick of looking at the picture

[statticscribbles]

Shadow

Summary: Steve/Billy, I love some good body horror, also this was written like years ago, so it might be a little different to my usual style

He’s tried his best to ignore it, the hissing; the way he can feel his own heartbeat being twisted into screams; how nothing smells the same; there’s some sort of sweet rotting scent, like vomit or drying meat. It takes him far too long to realise its himself; he watches the veins, the tendrils sliding against his skin, he runs his fingers over them, feeling ridges and coils he knows he shouldn’t. He cant help but shiver, picturing unblemished skin, picture harring-don’t think don’t think don’t think, he screams in tandem with the veins, with the creature that sinks below his skin as he sunk below the world, do not give him away, keep him safe keep him safe, don’t think don’t think, he knows its dissecting him, pulling him apart in pieces, internally; he imagines someone cutting him open once it kills him; his brain scrambled beyond function, his organs cut into chunks, into ribbons and shredded beyond the worst murders any of them have seen.

He can feel movement, not under his skin as he expects but himself moving; he knows he hasn’t been outside in hours weeks days, too long; he cant feel the sun, cant feel the cold wither; he’s not sure what he needs to wear; he’s unconcerned, he needs- dont think dont think dont think; it breaks, the way he grits his teeth scowling at himself at how the veins choke against him; with how they recede, how he can feel warmth suddenly rushing through him like water; he knows it knows too; he’d tried, he reminds himself, took the better part of however long it had been; he likes to think days; he knows he probably doesn’t have that.

He’s moving too fast, begging himself to slow down, to act human to appear what everyone sees him as. Nothing changes except he can no longer feel once more; he knows he should be tired dimly recognising the area he’s in, how far he’s traveled; how far it forced him to go, he staggers forward unsure of the ringing in his ears, the way the ground twists, his face hitting the grass; he wonders if the ground will swallow him once more. Instead light floods his vision, he can see feet moving towards him; he struggles finding himself bound to the earth; he can feel the veins pulsing the excitement they both feel is making him sick.

-Jesus- He doesn’t hear the figure speak just knows the way the face moves and the concern melts; he can feel the figure picking him up; he feels like he should weight ten tons but the veins are so busy thrumming in his ears he’s barely aware the figure is talking let alone the other people who seem to have appeared, he wants to shut his eyes; the lights are undulating against the shapes and items he no longer can name. He can feel everything spinning around him as a central point; he cant even move to turn to vomit; he cant hear anything suddenly; everything fully being silenced. he doesn’t struggle, doesn’t move frozen; numb; waiting for what happens after the silence; waiting for the screaming; the sound of bone snapping and fragmenting; the feeling of blood dripping from inside him to pool against his skin and muscles unbroken.

Nothing comes; he tentatively closes his eyes relieved when he can. He sleeps on his own for the first time. He doesn’t wake up, just as he doesn’t fall asleep. He’s only aware of the not being when his vision seems to return to him, when the blurry expanse of gray and blue pull back, the flashes of light and prickle of fire recede from his body. He cannot turn his head. He cannot move his body. He cannot feel what is not his; for the veins, the smoke that bleeds from under his skin has soaked against his body, he can feel it feather light in its movements as it coils around his organs, snakes between his bones and pulls the marrow from them. He knows he shouldn’t fight anymore; not now, not yet; he lets the smoke, the cool leeching from inside him settle centered in his chest.

He wonders if the smoke is what’s keeping his heart beating, surprised when he can feel the hold it keeps over him lessen. Fix it, fix it, fix it. Is all that come through when he tries to move, tries to think about what is suddenly flashing in front of his vision. Hand, fingers, arm. He sighs, letting the air return to his lungs by himself. He cringes knowing the creature has given him control back to posess someone. He reaches half blind towards the heartbeat the creature allows him to hear. Take, take, take. He’s confused when he can feel panic rise, the smoke bubbling into his throat cutting his breathing off. Wrong, wrong wrong. He leans his head against the wall keeping his eyes closed trying to avoid the feeling of everything twisting from under him. He opens them slowly surprised to see something sitting across from him. He doesn’t scream, his eyes clouded, he wonders why he can’t see.

“Billy, what happened.” Oh no.no, no no, wrong wrong wrong, not him not him, not him. He wants to vomit, he can feel his mouth cracking, his teeth grinding as he pries them open, fighting his own nerve impulses and synapses to manage to unlock his jaw. His vision goes black but the sound stays, he can hear it, the same creature that came to him in the other place, the broken screaming thing that stuttered and vomited sound, that was drowning in static and too much of everything, warping his vision the same as it is now. The sound is what he remembers, he can feel his arms, his hands trying to move towards his own mouth, to shut him down, to bring him to control once again. He can hear the scream clearer, its more of a whine, a pitiful noise the kind animals make when they’re wounded, not a creature from the other place he reasons, something from this place, something from here. He can feel a finger hooking into his mouth, his own trying to force his jaw closed or maybe to make him puke the creature so it can find a new host, so it can find something better.

Instead he doesn’t scream , he cannot when half is hand is being crushed by his teeth. He doesn’t feel pain, he can’t feel anything just as he can’t see and then he can’t hear. He knows the creature is angry, he can feel the way it ripples against him, like water damp and heavy. It vanishes all at once, and suddenly he’s lying on a bed, in a house, in a room , in Steve’s room, with Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve bleeding from his hand, half of which is now on the bed sitting next to him. He looks up, Steve’s face twisted in horror, his hand reaching hesitantly out. Fear, fear fear, he’s afraid he’s afraid of you, you’re bad, you’re bad. He can hear it echoing before everything is taken away again. He understands his last view of Steve the figure was meant to be agonizing for him to think of.

He’s not sure if he’s sitting or laying once more, he can faintly feel a hand somewhere against him and he reasons someone must had at least restrained him. Those wont stop us, we need, we need. He screams into his head, howling and trying his best to drown it out. He’s given sound and partial sight back, he’s still sitting, the figure Steve is next to him, he flexes his fingers twining them with Steve the figure’s. He watches the figure relax, can see his mouth moving but not the sound that comes out. He watches, tracking his eyes and skipping a breath when he sees his hand, uninjured next to him; the part he’d bitten off, the fingers he’d crushed under his teeth sit next to it, blood staining the sheet and the flesh itself a dull gray and sheened black. “What’s going on,Billy, what happened?” He swallows confused how clear Steve is. “It; it wants-“ “Want’s what?” Steve’s fingers tighten, the other hand brushing up his arm. Wants you, wants you wants you, want you, want you, want you. “Don’t know, just know I’m supposed to bring it what it wants.” “You can’t remember anything from-“ His voice cuts off, as if he’s underwater and he waits patiently for Steve the figure’s voice to return. “Billy?” He relishes in how comforting his name is. He blinks at Steve, not nodding, not moving, the burning in his chest reminding him he’s not breathing either. He waits, curious which will give in first.

“It wants you.” He breathes out before it can choke him back down. Steve freezes nodding slowly. “Why?” “Because I want you.” Steve’s eyebrows knit together but he nods. “And you’re the creature right so-?”

“No! I want you! You’re mine!” No right to him, no right to him, mine mine mine. He screeches, snarling in the space between them before he tugs Steve even closer, pulling him on top of himself effortlessly, he can dimly hear the hand, his hand, thunking to the floor and he pays no mind as he curls around Steve. He doesn’t struggle, laying there limp, shaking only slightly. He can feel his hand running through Steve’s hair, humming softly. Mine mine mine mine. “It wants what I have what everyone here does, it wants. It hurts with it, like I do, why we match so well.” He mumbles hand petting Steve’s hair. “I thought it wanted to take the world?” “Yes.”

“Am I like a gateway or somethin’? If anything El would-“ “Mine.” Billy hisses between his teeth and Steve looks up. “Oh.” Billy hums please when Steve nods slowly, he presses their forehead together and they sit content in silence for a moment, Billy trying his best not to choke on the veins that burrow into him like barbs.

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[luucarii]

Poolside Murder

Fandom: Danganronpa V3

Relationship: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

My titles are still. shit.

“I’ll kill you eventually.”

Kokichi had said the words so nonchalantly, as if it was nothing than a mere house chore, as if he could snap his fingers and wherever Shuichi would be, he’d start bleeding out on the floor on cue because of him. Kokichi made attempts, so to speak, nothing actually life threatening though. Kokichi had asked him to slit his stomach, of course he refused, asked to play Russian Roulette with a bullet in every chamber, an obvious decline, challenged him to a weird card game with proclamations that he’d “banish him to the Shadow Realm,” which somehow, Shuichi ended up winning. It all ended up with near a hundred games of Rock-Paper-Scissors which all of them ended in a tie. Shuichi couldn’t tell if Kokichi was actually trying or if it was just a game in his head.

Kokichi Ouma made his head spin.

When did he even start thinking about him so much to begin with?

After the Rock-Paper-Scissors match, Kokichi claimed Shuichi would be dead after their next meeting, something Shuichi didn’t know whether to take as a lie or not. Up until that point, Kokichi had been doing nothing but toying with him, while occasionally gracing him with information on his evil organization. Shuichi figured he’d test his luck and hang out with Kokichi one last time, just to prove he was lying about the whole thing — and if he wasn’t, well he’d end up dead.

Kokichi invited him to the pool with more a pep in his step than usual. He already had a few towels flung over his shoulders and wore sunglasses over his eyes. His lips curled into a smile as he led the way, Shuichi following a few steps behind him. Kokichi hadn’t said much, just hummed a little tune as he walked, arms behind his head. He seemed too calm and Shuichi couldn’t help but be wary of the situation.

“Why are we going to the pool anyway?” Shuichi asked and watched Kokichi turn, walking backwards, face still frozen in that cheerful smile.

“I swear Monokuma’s turning up the heat in this place, I’m baking!” He chuckled, clicking his tongue, “oh! And I wanted you to at least have a little fun before I kill you!”

Shuichi stiffened but couldn’t bring his legs to stop as he continued to follow Kokichi, walking into the pool area, “you can’t say things like that and expect me to go along with it.”

“Whaaat?” Kokichi skipped to a stop, throwing the towels onto the beach chair and putting his hands on his hips, “but you’ve been doing it all this time, Shuichi. You still hang out with me even after I’ve told you plenty of times that I want you dead.”

He’s not wrong, Shuichi grumbled inwardly and watching Kokichi kick off his shoes and roll up his pant legs. Kokichi let his feet slip into the water and sighed, looking back to Shuichi with a grin as he patted the empty space next to him.

“I don’t remember the water level being high enough to dip your feet in.” Shuichi mumbled as he slowly untied his shoes and placed them neatly beside Kokichi’s.

Kokichi snickered, “yeah, I stole the garden hose and filled up the pool myself. None of the Monokubs said anything so I figured it was fine.”

Shuichi sat beside Kokichi and dipped a toe into the water, wincing at the freezing temperature. There was nothing Shuichi hated more than the cold. He forced the rest of his feet in and shivered, hands gripping the edge of the pool, “Monokuma probably thought you were preparing for a murder or something, that’s probably why he let you.”

Kokichi grinned, eyes narrowing, “guess he thought right.”

Shuichi chewed on the inside of his mouth and looked away — in hindsight, a bad idea. What could he possibly do? Was he going to drown him, hit him over the head with one of the beach chairs and watch him bleed out in the pool? No, that was stupid. It was all just a game, Shuichi attempted to reassure himself, nothing but a stupid game.

Shuichi snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a splash and felt water droplets on his face. He turned to see that Kokichi had thrown himself into the water, a shadow of his figure wiggling underwater. Shuichi sighed and watched him slowly float to the surface.

“Jeez, it’s cold.” Kokichi shivered and laughed. His hair stuck to his forehead and a drop of water slid down his nose. Shuichi smiled, albeit a little bit, he looked just like a child. “Come in, Shuichi, this is our next game!”

“Game?”

“It’s your typical, ‘let see how long you can hold your breath’ game! I’ll start!” Kokichi dipped back into the water, kicking his feet and swimming to the bottom of the pool. Shuichi didn’t know exactly how deep it was but with the water level raised to the near top of the pool, drowning was completely possible. Shuichi watched Kokichi cross his ankles together and hold his hands behind his back. He was making sure he couldn’t move, even if he wanted to. Shuichi stiffened, eyes never leaving Kokichi’s shadow. It was all just a joke, right, a lie.  He’d come up to the surface and tease Shuichi for not playing with him.

A few seconds passed, Kokichi wasn’t moving.

Shuichi groaned. Stop playing with me and come up already.

It was nearing a minute since Kokichi dove under and Shuichi broke. Holding his breath, Shuichi dove in after Kokichi, forcing his eyes open amidst the burning chlorine. Kokichi’s eyes were shut close and his mouth was open slightly, bubbles floating up to the surface. Shuichi reached for his arm, which was dangling weakly in the water and grabbed him, straining his muscles to pull him to the surface.

Shuichi’s head popped up from out of the water with a gasp, as did Kokichi’s beside him. Shuichi swam toward the pool’s edge and forced Kokichi onto the tiled floor. He couldn’t bring himself to catch his breath, not yet. Shuichi hoisted himself up from the pool and leaned over Kokichi’s body. A hand flew over his mouth and nose.

He wasn’t breathing.

Dammit, Kokichi.

Shuichi hesitated for a second before bringing his hands to his chest. Just as Shuichi was ready to push down, Kokichi coughed, water spilling from the corners of his mouth. He panted harshly, desperate for air and Shuichi let out a sigh of relief. Kokichi’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled.

“I knew you’d save me.” He coughed before wheezing out a laugh, “thanks Shuichi.”

“I thought you were trying to kill me, not yourself.”

“But I did kill you.” Kokichi grinned and weakly brought a hand to Shuichi’s chest. His hand moved just below his left collarbone and he chuckled, “see? Your heart’s pounding. I murdered your heart with worry.”

Shuichi held his temples with two fingers and Kokichi smiled under him.

“After I said I’d kill you, I never left your mind, did I? Wondering whether I was serious or not. Hah, even now…” The hand rose from his chest, to Shuichi’s cheek, fingers brushing under his eyes, “you’re concerned about me from the bottom of your heart.”

Shuichi suddenly felt warm, even through his soaked clothes and the freezing air. He couldn’t bring himself to think too much about what Kokichi had said, what he had done, nothing mattered besides the fact he was okay.

Kokichi chuckled again, “now you’ll never ever forget me for the rest of your life. I stole your heart, so now I’m satisfied, I don’t need to steal your life anymore.”

Shuichi couldn’t help but crack a smile, “you never wanted my life to begin with, you just wanted my attention, didn’t you?”

Kokichi sat up and Shuichi could see the water dripping from his hair, clothes sticking to the outline of his body. His eyes still drooped and he seemed to still struggle to catch his breath. “Who knows? It could’ve all been a lie.”