10-02-2022, 12:03 AM
Content Warning
This post contains content that may be unsettling to some readers, including:- Mild Gore
- Self Harm
Possible joining thread for LAB, set just inside their pack borders.
@Madmortigan <3
Anyone else from LAB is also welcome :)
@Madmortigan <3
Anyone else from LAB is also welcome :)
Fire, fire, fire! It burns his body — his soul — singes the hair from his shoulders, back, legs, face. It blinds him, melts his eyes. The demon doesn’t try and run — no, no, no, he deserves this suffering. But this pain isn’t like any he’s ever felt! It’s hot yet cold, it makes him want to scream and howl until his throat bleeds and his lungs and stomach fill up with blood. It makes the beast writhe and crawl on an unsteady rocky ground — his paw pads searing off, turning red then brown like cooking a steak. Maw wide and dropped open, panting, panting, panting — hot, hot, hot — it’s painful, but such actions only display his stress more than they help him. He’s burning alive — screams, he hears scream and howls and jeers.
He’s in hell — burning for all of his sins.
The hellhound doesn’t know how long he’s been here burning and screaming and writhing. Has no idea how long he’s been tortured or how long it will continue, but somewhere along the way he accepted it. And only when he accepts it, he feels like he’s being suffocated. His lungs shiver and quake at the lack of oxygen, his vertigo fails.
And then he smells dirt — a new smell among the constant cloud of burning flesh he’d become accustomed to. He’s still burning, but he hears rain and then -
Crash! Boom!
The sound of lighting striking the ground gets him moving. A sliver of the sky is revealed in the wake of the lightning strike.
He’s underground — burned and buried, sealed away like some monster. Like they were frightened that he’d spontaneously come back from the dead.
Dig! Dig! Dig! His mind supplies — not him, but someone else. And he does just that — all while feeling the fire-ice feeling of the world around him. The hole he’s in — like a a coffin, but there’s flames licking his skin even here, their daunting, flickering light singeing his fur and skin. But the sliver of sky reveals a heavy rain that falls, pittering again his nose and paws as he digs it open deeper. There’s fire above him too — from the lightning — but the demon just assumes it’s another test from the devil himself.
And so he digs and when his large paws breech the surface, his head quickly follows — desperately sucking down fresh but smokey air.
Here, the fire licks his skin too. Despite the rain, it burns his paws as he claws at the ground to pull himself up straight out of hell. Bloody eyes are wide, a crazed snarl marking his face as he strains to deal with the fact that he is still on fucking fire. It hurts— it hurts! Hurts worse than usual. It feels as if his skin is melting off.
And that’s because it is. It bites his arms where they’re scrabbling for purchase despite the dampness of his skin. The heat warms his face and the fire beneath him nips at his hocks. So he kicks and scratches his hind legs, arms flexing as he pulls himself from the hole in the ground with a strained growl snarling from his lips. And as his body becomes visible to the world, flames would follow, stuck to his hips, tail, and shoulder blades. He stands in it as rain pours down on him, eyes striking, wide, horrified, traumatized as his chest heaves quickly.
And for a second he stands there, head hunched over the smaller flames on the ground as he’s literally on fire. Until the pain becomes too much and the rain doesn’t immediately distinguish the embers on his back. Suddenly he’s snarling, rain and saliva dripping from his maw as he fervently stumbles from the flames — away from the hell hole he’s crawled out of. Curling his body into a tight ‘c’ he’s snapping and biting at the flames on his back — the ones that have already singed off his fur and left raw, welted skin in its place. And his teeth — they cut into his own skin as he bites the flames like a rabid dog, falling onto his side from unstable paws and the sheer panicked biting, he finds solace on the damp ground. The cool wetness of the grass burns, but eventually fire dissipates and smoke billows from his seared flesh while he writhes on the ground.
There, coat soaked through by the rain and patches of fur missing, skin raw and melted, he lies flat on his back. Forearms curled and shaking beside the arch of his chest and hind limbs limp but quaking. But his eyes…traumatized and wide — so wide they appear round and glowing — unblinking. He stares into nothingness while not a single thought moves through his animalistic brain. He basks in the pain and lets the rain drench him, soaking wet in the middle of nowhere.
There, he realizes that he is alive again…and so the torture continues…
the staff team luvs u