canisaries
sometimes i get a deadache, yeah
Hi! Haven't posted a oneshot from this universe in a while - last one was Vivarium, I believe. Yep, it's TPP again - but this time we're not in Red's head. The protagonist this time is someone more iconic to TPP, that being the flareon known by some as the False Prophet. Mostly the people who left after the first run, as later on people began to see her in a different light, calling her Martyr. The lore, however, isn't crucial for these oneshots, so outsiders welcome, which is like 99% of you anyway.
Oneshots, plural? Yes, in this thread I'll have not one, but two oneshots, because the latter was written as a sequel to the original and frankly, I wouldn't consider either of these worthy of their own thread by themselves. In this post, I'll have the first, named Washed Up (third time I'm renaming it) or as I and my readers call it casually, SINK. You'll find out why when you read on.
I'll say this oneshot is rated mature - not as mature as some of my other work here has been, but I feel like there's a factor of violent abuse in this that raises this up a level from teen. Speaking of, content warnings for physical abuse of a (sentient) Pokémon and violent imagery (including drowning and blunt force trauma). And eeveelutions being considered as feline. The horror, I know.
As for the sequel's content, I'll get back to it once I post it (it's ready and all, but I'm not sure if you're supposed to wait some time until another bump), but generally I think it's tamer than this first oneshot.
Alright, with that all said, here is Washed Up. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy!
- - -
Washed Up
Synopsis: A flareon lost in a snowstorm finds shelter in the house of an old "friend".
- - -
I must have traveled miles by now. But it doesn’t really matter how long I walk, does it, when every turn I take seems to be the wrong one.
In this maze, walls would be a blessing. Anything tangible would be luxurious. But no, I have nothing to tell me where I am. Aside from the small circular patch of black beneath me, everything is a flashing gray. I have to squint to prevent the snow from hitting my eyes, further obscuring my sight.
I do know I’m still walking, but it doesn’t feel like it. There’s no texture under my paws. No smooth, no rough, only sensations of pressure somewhere down there, amidst the pools of numbness.
I’d like to give my ears a break from this infernal cold for even a minute by folding them back, but my survival instinct says no. And she’s right. Even if all I can really hear is the howling of the wind, I have to stay alert. If I can still trust my tired eyes, the ground beneath me is asphalt. Which means that, if I’m not using my senses to their full extent, I could at any moment be ripped from this life by some truck’s bumper slamming onto my body. My skull, my ribcage, my hips, all cracked like a murkrow’s egg fallen from its nest in a streetside oran tree.
The wind picks up. I brace myself. I didn’t think blizzards could get this bad... in this part of Kanto, at least. Had I known, I would have stayed the night. I wouldn’t have ended up here - here, lashed by thousands of frigid whips. Icy maggots burrowing in between my hairs, frozen teeth biting into my skin. I wouldn’t be dying.
But of course I had to be cocky, put too much faith in my powers. It’s just a flurry! A little snow! That’s what I said. It’s not even that low a temperature out. Fire beats ice, no problem. Especially for me.
Oh, the fire, the flame, the lifegiver of all mon my type. I do still have a little flame in me, miraculously. I’d love to let it out, let it warm me, embrace me, but I’d be dead mere seconds afterwards. I just hope another miracle happens before I give up and set myself ablaze just to feel alive one last...
…
...What’s that?
A shadow. A silhouette of something, over there, just a few steps away.
Closer, I drag myself closer. There’s something in front of my legs. A step. Above it, another. Another. I ascend and find myself before a door. The wind dies down. Only a little, but in terms of visibility, it changes everything. I can see, finally.
But what I see, it’s… familiar.
I know where I am.
The Gods are cruel.
Well, then. Here I stand, between a rock and a graveler. A welcome mat underneath my tired feet. Ironic, as this house makes freezing to death sound alluring compared to entering.
Oh, I suppose I might as well try to get the key. If I’m unable, fate will have decided for me.
Bending my joints is like ripping apart welded steel by now, but regardless, I make my way to the wooden frame of the overlooming shelter and place my forepaws on it. I look up to better pin down the height the flower pot is hanging at, and extend claws on all my feet.
Hmh. This will take a lot of my strength. Part of me reconsiders the swanna song option, but I’d hate to die a quitter. The abuse, the fear I’ve had to overcome, it can’t let it have been for nothing.
I leap up the pillar and hook myself to the wood. With great strain, I drag myself upwards and climb until the flower pot is right behind me. Okay. Next is the hardest part. While my breathing is shaky and irregular, I do my best to inhale deeply. The cold air scratches my throat, but if I manage this, that won’t be bothering me for too much longer. Though not that it would even if I didn’t. My time is running out.
I detach my forepaws from the pillar, twist my body to face the pot and throw my arms forward. Amazingly enough, my digits really do touch the rim of the pot. I dig my claws into the frozen mulch and stabilize the pot’s swinging. Blindly, I scrape around the dirt until something metallic hits my claws. I try to pull it, but it’s stuck. Hm…
I tense my hind legs further and flip the pot upside down. Nothing happens at first, but after a few shakes and taps the frozen mass inside begins to slide out. One last smack, and the chunk of mold falls out and fractures upon impact with the ground. I can’t hold on any longer, either, and so drop down, landing on my feet, as we felines are so known to do. Hurts. My stiff muscles don’t take the shock of the collision without protest.
I locate the key and pick it up with my mouth - the cold metal isn’t pleasant against my lips, but it’s barely painful after everything else. I unlock the door, slip in and kick it shut.
I collapse on the floor. Slowly, very slowly, the cold begins to dissipate. Warm blood flows into my legs. It throbs and stings, but second by second, I feel more alive. Safe.
But I can't stay here in open view like this. He might see me.
I force my groggy body onto my legs again and look for a hiding spot. The living room has a couch and an armchair, but I’m not sure if I can fit beneath them.
I crawl to the couch and try to stuff myself under it, but the crevice is too narrow and the couch too heavy to lift. Trying the same with the armchair, however, I discover the chair is actually hollow and succeed. And there's a soft rug underneath me too…
Finally, I can rest. I don't need to die today. Whispering, I thank my past self for not giving up.
I allow the warmth of the house’s air to fully envelop me. My muscles relax as I soak up the surrounding heat. The borders between my body and the environment melt away, my fire is coming back to me, but now I need to sleep…
...
“...”
...Did… did somebody say something?
“Sam, are you listening to me?”
I open my eyes. Light is shining in through the crevices. Oh, no...
“You know...”
This light, that voice drenched in eerily calm hatred… I've been spotted. By him.
“...it’s very rude to ignore people when they’re speaking to you, Sam.”
Sam? Who’s Sam? Oh, right, Abe’s friend. A flareon too. He must be mistaking me for Sam.
Should I make a run for it? I’m still so weak… oh, Dome, please let him just go away… I’m in no shape for a confrontation.
Knock, knock, knock. “Wake up, Sam!”
He’s not leaving. I bet he’s gonna lift the chair soon. I’ll have to run then, run like hell.
I stretch my limbs as stealthily as possible and get up to a crouch. The fear flooding in has awoken me in record time.
“Sam, sweetheart,” he purrs, “you do remember what I’ve told you, right? That I’m not really a fan of your kind?”
Not yet, I can’t run just yet. I’ll have a better chance if he has his hands full with the chair.
“Abe may have told you I wouldn’t actually harm you in any way, but I’m not sure if I agree… I have some pretty bad history with you flareon. I may act without thinking and do something after all. So, for the good of both of us, why don’t you get out from under there...”
He grabs onto the chair. Okay, any moment now.
“...and skitter right back upstair-”
It’s lifted! I dash out --
No, I’m stopped by something! My tail is stuck in something!
“The hell’s up with you, Sa-”
I turn around. It's his foot. He's stepped on my tail hairs. They must have been peeking out. I look up and I see his face. He sees mine.
“...You,” he whispers, his face utterly blank.
But that doesn’t last. A ferocious gleam ignites in his eyes, and he plunges his hand towards me. I dodge his attempted grab with a jump to the right, but my tail hairs are still stuck. I charge up any heat I have and direct it to the tip of my tail. It flashes orange. He recoils with a hiss. Freed, I run for the door.
“No. You're not leaving,” he growls and follows.
The door lock was not meant for paws. I’m fumbling, losing precious time, oh Dome...
I’m covered by something. A blanket. I try to muster up some more fire to burn the fabric, and I feel heat exiting my body, but… it's not igniting… Dome, it’s a fire blanket, isn't it?
Something clasps around my neck - a human hand, by the shape and strength of it.
I wriggle, but to no avail. Even with the fabric to cushion it, his grip is strangling...
Another hand grabs me by the base of my tail and I’m lifted into the air, taken somewhere. Flailing only makes him tighten his hold.
“Oh, I’m so glad I finally get to do this…” he groans through his teeth.
Do what, my naive side wants to ask, but I’m afraid I know exactly what he means.
Okay. I stop squirming for now. I’ll have to prepared for anything. I can’t let him win. I begin gathering heat again. There’s barely any left anymore, but if I use what little I have at just the right time in the right place, I can --
A gushing noise. I’m pressed down onto something metallic. From the little I can see from underneath the blanket, it looks like a... sink.
He grabs my blanket-covered head and shoves me forward. Cold, heavy, wet surrounds me! I try to pull back, but he won’t allow it! It’s hard to breathe - I wheeze, water gets in my throat, I cough, repeat!
Heavy gone. He’s taken off the blanket and yanked me away by my ear. I’m soaking wet.
“Wish you were a vaporeon now, huh?”
Bastard. I try to singe him, but I can’t. The dampness of my fur suffocates any flame I try to kindle.
He snickers. The world shakes with me, but amongst that all, I catch a single glimpse of his face. His white teeth twisted into a sick grin. A second later he plunges me underneath the tap again. He shakes my head violently, further disorientating me, and then tugs me back.
“You have no idea… how much pleasure this gives me.”
Before I even get to finish a third cough, another dive. Holding my breath and releasing it is getting harder to time. Now I’m back in the dry again. My lungs can’t take much more.
I’d be desperate enough to call for help, but my ability for any kind of vocalization is gone, sans hacking as if I’d have a dozen furballs to get out.
“I’d love to keep doing this over and over,” he coos, “but I need to put an end to this. To you. It’s time for you to die for good, and this time no god will save you. Good. Bye.”
He grabs onto my muzzle and parts my lips with his fingers. He twists my head face up and pushes me under the stream one last time. Water fills my mouth and crashes against my nostrils. I didn’t have time to inhale before. All I can do now is hold my breath. Even with closed eyes, I can feel myself beginning to black out. Every second is more unbearable than the last...
This…
This is really it, huh.
Right here, in the sink. By his hand.
At least in the blizzard, maybe I could have…
...maybe I could have slept away…
...
“...!”
Through the water swirling around me, I hear something.
“... ... a… ou… ing?!”
Pressure gone. Swirling changes tone. Instinct forces me to gasp - air.
As for my assailant, he's loosened his grip, but hasn't yet fully let go.
“Abe,” he states.
“What… what are you doing?” Abe whispers.
“I…”
My vision is blurry, but I can make out a human being rushing towards me. Shaggy dark hair, brown skin, short… it really is Abe.
He grabs me from his brother’s hold, ignoring how wet I am. The front of his pyjamas is drenched in a second. He rushes to find the nearest towel and wraps me in it.
“Red, why… why would you do that?” He stares at his brother with a disturbed expression.
I can see the maniac’s hand curl up into a fist. I thank my luck I’m in Abe’s arms instead of his.
“She’s caused me a lot of pain,” he slowly says. “And she broke in. You’re overreacting.”
He’s overreacting?
“I’m overreacting?” Abe says. “Why didn’t you just throw her out?”
The freak stays silent. Only glares.
Abe looks down at me. “Are you okay?”
I stare back, my vision has clearer. Abe doesn’t have his glasses. The noise must have woken him up.
I want to say yes, but I don’t know if I can speak. I nod instead.
“You’re gonna side with her?”
Abe glances back at his brother, but can’t hold a look.
“I’m taking her upstairs,” Abe says quietly.
“Well...” Without breaking eye contact, without even blinking, the freak grabs a towel of his own. “I guess I’ll just… clean up, then.”
Abe winces. So subtly that probably only I could notice.
In silence, he turns around and heads for the stairs with shaky steps. Peeking over his shoulder, I can see his brother beginning to wipe the water off the counter. For a fleeting moment, his eye focuses on me.
The wild gleam is gone, but the hatred is alive and well.
- - -
Oneshots, plural? Yes, in this thread I'll have not one, but two oneshots, because the latter was written as a sequel to the original and frankly, I wouldn't consider either of these worthy of their own thread by themselves. In this post, I'll have the first, named Washed Up (third time I'm renaming it) or as I and my readers call it casually, SINK. You'll find out why when you read on.
I'll say this oneshot is rated mature - not as mature as some of my other work here has been, but I feel like there's a factor of violent abuse in this that raises this up a level from teen. Speaking of, content warnings for physical abuse of a (sentient) Pokémon and violent imagery (including drowning and blunt force trauma). And eeveelutions being considered as feline. The horror, I know.
As for the sequel's content, I'll get back to it once I post it (it's ready and all, but I'm not sure if you're supposed to wait some time until another bump), but generally I think it's tamer than this first oneshot.
Alright, with that all said, here is Washed Up. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy!
- - -
Washed Up
Synopsis: A flareon lost in a snowstorm finds shelter in the house of an old "friend".
- - -
In this maze, walls would be a blessing. Anything tangible would be luxurious. But no, I have nothing to tell me where I am. Aside from the small circular patch of black beneath me, everything is a flashing gray. I have to squint to prevent the snow from hitting my eyes, further obscuring my sight.
I do know I’m still walking, but it doesn’t feel like it. There’s no texture under my paws. No smooth, no rough, only sensations of pressure somewhere down there, amidst the pools of numbness.
I’d like to give my ears a break from this infernal cold for even a minute by folding them back, but my survival instinct says no. And she’s right. Even if all I can really hear is the howling of the wind, I have to stay alert. If I can still trust my tired eyes, the ground beneath me is asphalt. Which means that, if I’m not using my senses to their full extent, I could at any moment be ripped from this life by some truck’s bumper slamming onto my body. My skull, my ribcage, my hips, all cracked like a murkrow’s egg fallen from its nest in a streetside oran tree.
The wind picks up. I brace myself. I didn’t think blizzards could get this bad... in this part of Kanto, at least. Had I known, I would have stayed the night. I wouldn’t have ended up here - here, lashed by thousands of frigid whips. Icy maggots burrowing in between my hairs, frozen teeth biting into my skin. I wouldn’t be dying.
But of course I had to be cocky, put too much faith in my powers. It’s just a flurry! A little snow! That’s what I said. It’s not even that low a temperature out. Fire beats ice, no problem. Especially for me.
Oh, the fire, the flame, the lifegiver of all mon my type. I do still have a little flame in me, miraculously. I’d love to let it out, let it warm me, embrace me, but I’d be dead mere seconds afterwards. I just hope another miracle happens before I give up and set myself ablaze just to feel alive one last...
…
...What’s that?
A shadow. A silhouette of something, over there, just a few steps away.
Closer, I drag myself closer. There’s something in front of my legs. A step. Above it, another. Another. I ascend and find myself before a door. The wind dies down. Only a little, but in terms of visibility, it changes everything. I can see, finally.
But what I see, it’s… familiar.
I know where I am.
The Gods are cruel.
Well, then. Here I stand, between a rock and a graveler. A welcome mat underneath my tired feet. Ironic, as this house makes freezing to death sound alluring compared to entering.
Oh, I suppose I might as well try to get the key. If I’m unable, fate will have decided for me.
Bending my joints is like ripping apart welded steel by now, but regardless, I make my way to the wooden frame of the overlooming shelter and place my forepaws on it. I look up to better pin down the height the flower pot is hanging at, and extend claws on all my feet.
Hmh. This will take a lot of my strength. Part of me reconsiders the swanna song option, but I’d hate to die a quitter. The abuse, the fear I’ve had to overcome, it can’t let it have been for nothing.
I leap up the pillar and hook myself to the wood. With great strain, I drag myself upwards and climb until the flower pot is right behind me. Okay. Next is the hardest part. While my breathing is shaky and irregular, I do my best to inhale deeply. The cold air scratches my throat, but if I manage this, that won’t be bothering me for too much longer. Though not that it would even if I didn’t. My time is running out.
I detach my forepaws from the pillar, twist my body to face the pot and throw my arms forward. Amazingly enough, my digits really do touch the rim of the pot. I dig my claws into the frozen mulch and stabilize the pot’s swinging. Blindly, I scrape around the dirt until something metallic hits my claws. I try to pull it, but it’s stuck. Hm…
I tense my hind legs further and flip the pot upside down. Nothing happens at first, but after a few shakes and taps the frozen mass inside begins to slide out. One last smack, and the chunk of mold falls out and fractures upon impact with the ground. I can’t hold on any longer, either, and so drop down, landing on my feet, as we felines are so known to do. Hurts. My stiff muscles don’t take the shock of the collision without protest.
I locate the key and pick it up with my mouth - the cold metal isn’t pleasant against my lips, but it’s barely painful after everything else. I unlock the door, slip in and kick it shut.
I collapse on the floor. Slowly, very slowly, the cold begins to dissipate. Warm blood flows into my legs. It throbs and stings, but second by second, I feel more alive. Safe.
But I can't stay here in open view like this. He might see me.
I force my groggy body onto my legs again and look for a hiding spot. The living room has a couch and an armchair, but I’m not sure if I can fit beneath them.
I crawl to the couch and try to stuff myself under it, but the crevice is too narrow and the couch too heavy to lift. Trying the same with the armchair, however, I discover the chair is actually hollow and succeed. And there's a soft rug underneath me too…
Finally, I can rest. I don't need to die today. Whispering, I thank my past self for not giving up.
I allow the warmth of the house’s air to fully envelop me. My muscles relax as I soak up the surrounding heat. The borders between my body and the environment melt away, my fire is coming back to me, but now I need to sleep…
...
“...”
...Did… did somebody say something?
“Sam, are you listening to me?”
I open my eyes. Light is shining in through the crevices. Oh, no...
“You know...”
This light, that voice drenched in eerily calm hatred… I've been spotted. By him.
“...it’s very rude to ignore people when they’re speaking to you, Sam.”
Sam? Who’s Sam? Oh, right, Abe’s friend. A flareon too. He must be mistaking me for Sam.
Should I make a run for it? I’m still so weak… oh, Dome, please let him just go away… I’m in no shape for a confrontation.
Knock, knock, knock. “Wake up, Sam!”
He’s not leaving. I bet he’s gonna lift the chair soon. I’ll have to run then, run like hell.
I stretch my limbs as stealthily as possible and get up to a crouch. The fear flooding in has awoken me in record time.
“Sam, sweetheart,” he purrs, “you do remember what I’ve told you, right? That I’m not really a fan of your kind?”
Not yet, I can’t run just yet. I’ll have a better chance if he has his hands full with the chair.
“Abe may have told you I wouldn’t actually harm you in any way, but I’m not sure if I agree… I have some pretty bad history with you flareon. I may act without thinking and do something after all. So, for the good of both of us, why don’t you get out from under there...”
He grabs onto the chair. Okay, any moment now.
“...and skitter right back upstair-”
It’s lifted! I dash out --
No, I’m stopped by something! My tail is stuck in something!
“The hell’s up with you, Sa-”
I turn around. It's his foot. He's stepped on my tail hairs. They must have been peeking out. I look up and I see his face. He sees mine.
“...You,” he whispers, his face utterly blank.
But that doesn’t last. A ferocious gleam ignites in his eyes, and he plunges his hand towards me. I dodge his attempted grab with a jump to the right, but my tail hairs are still stuck. I charge up any heat I have and direct it to the tip of my tail. It flashes orange. He recoils with a hiss. Freed, I run for the door.
“No. You're not leaving,” he growls and follows.
The door lock was not meant for paws. I’m fumbling, losing precious time, oh Dome...
I’m covered by something. A blanket. I try to muster up some more fire to burn the fabric, and I feel heat exiting my body, but… it's not igniting… Dome, it’s a fire blanket, isn't it?
Something clasps around my neck - a human hand, by the shape and strength of it.
I wriggle, but to no avail. Even with the fabric to cushion it, his grip is strangling...
Another hand grabs me by the base of my tail and I’m lifted into the air, taken somewhere. Flailing only makes him tighten his hold.
“Oh, I’m so glad I finally get to do this…” he groans through his teeth.
Do what, my naive side wants to ask, but I’m afraid I know exactly what he means.
Okay. I stop squirming for now. I’ll have to prepared for anything. I can’t let him win. I begin gathering heat again. There’s barely any left anymore, but if I use what little I have at just the right time in the right place, I can --
A gushing noise. I’m pressed down onto something metallic. From the little I can see from underneath the blanket, it looks like a... sink.
He grabs my blanket-covered head and shoves me forward. Cold, heavy, wet surrounds me! I try to pull back, but he won’t allow it! It’s hard to breathe - I wheeze, water gets in my throat, I cough, repeat!
Heavy gone. He’s taken off the blanket and yanked me away by my ear. I’m soaking wet.
“Wish you were a vaporeon now, huh?”
Bastard. I try to singe him, but I can’t. The dampness of my fur suffocates any flame I try to kindle.
He snickers. The world shakes with me, but amongst that all, I catch a single glimpse of his face. His white teeth twisted into a sick grin. A second later he plunges me underneath the tap again. He shakes my head violently, further disorientating me, and then tugs me back.
“You have no idea… how much pleasure this gives me.”
Before I even get to finish a third cough, another dive. Holding my breath and releasing it is getting harder to time. Now I’m back in the dry again. My lungs can’t take much more.
I’d be desperate enough to call for help, but my ability for any kind of vocalization is gone, sans hacking as if I’d have a dozen furballs to get out.
“I’d love to keep doing this over and over,” he coos, “but I need to put an end to this. To you. It’s time for you to die for good, and this time no god will save you. Good. Bye.”
He grabs onto my muzzle and parts my lips with his fingers. He twists my head face up and pushes me under the stream one last time. Water fills my mouth and crashes against my nostrils. I didn’t have time to inhale before. All I can do now is hold my breath. Even with closed eyes, I can feel myself beginning to black out. Every second is more unbearable than the last...
This…
This is really it, huh.
Right here, in the sink. By his hand.
At least in the blizzard, maybe I could have…
...maybe I could have slept away…
...
“...!”
Through the water swirling around me, I hear something.
“... ... a… ou… ing?!”
Pressure gone. Swirling changes tone. Instinct forces me to gasp - air.
As for my assailant, he's loosened his grip, but hasn't yet fully let go.
“Abe,” he states.
“What… what are you doing?” Abe whispers.
“I…”
My vision is blurry, but I can make out a human being rushing towards me. Shaggy dark hair, brown skin, short… it really is Abe.
He grabs me from his brother’s hold, ignoring how wet I am. The front of his pyjamas is drenched in a second. He rushes to find the nearest towel and wraps me in it.
“Red, why… why would you do that?” He stares at his brother with a disturbed expression.
I can see the maniac’s hand curl up into a fist. I thank my luck I’m in Abe’s arms instead of his.
“She’s caused me a lot of pain,” he slowly says. “And she broke in. You’re overreacting.”
He’s overreacting?
“I’m overreacting?” Abe says. “Why didn’t you just throw her out?”
The freak stays silent. Only glares.
Abe looks down at me. “Are you okay?”
I stare back, my vision has clearer. Abe doesn’t have his glasses. The noise must have woken him up.
I want to say yes, but I don’t know if I can speak. I nod instead.
“You’re gonna side with her?”
Abe glances back at his brother, but can’t hold a look.
“I’m taking her upstairs,” Abe says quietly.
“Well...” Without breaking eye contact, without even blinking, the freak grabs a towel of his own. “I guess I’ll just… clean up, then.”
Abe winces. So subtly that probably only I could notice.
In silence, he turns around and heads for the stairs with shaky steps. Peeking over his shoulder, I can see his brother beginning to wipe the water off the counter. For a fleeting moment, his eye focuses on me.
The wild gleam is gone, but the hatred is alive and well.
- - -
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