Title: cabbage patch
Rating: T-M
Summary: Where plot bunnies abound. (AKA: Random OC snippets for various fandoms, most likely won't ever be developed into full fics.)
Warnings: Language, descriptions of violence, etc.
AN at bottom.
.
cabbage patch
"beneath a blood moon"
.
Ine blinks, a simple movement that has no right to be as hard as it currently is. Except it is, in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the difficulty of the movement itself, and everything to do with the gradual loss of sensation in her body as blood steadily pools, pools, pools beneath her.
... It's cold. Humans are meant to be warm, not cold, but it's rather telling that even the blood spilling out from her torso now only feels... cold. Wet. Sticky, maybe, as it coagulates in the frigid midnight air. Nothing else.
(Cold, cold, cold.)
She's dying. There is no denying this.
Death is something Ine had known to expect, but she had hoped that it would be of old age this time around, rather than... whatever this is. She's not even really sure why she's in this state.
Well, no, that's not really accurate: Ine is well aware that she's dying of blood loss from a traumatic injury of the rather fatal sort, is clinically cognizant of the fact that half her torso has been torn open by something, because she's pretty sure that some of her organs are spilling onto the ground, too. It hurts, hurts, hurts, excruciatingly so, and yet at the same time she feels so very detached from it all.
She's hesitant to call the thing that had attacked them a wild animal, for all the mindless viciousness they had been violently assaulted with, becuase it hadn't been shaped like one, not exactly. In fact, if Ine had to make any comment about the monstrous figure, she'd say it almost looked human. And wasn't that a cheerful thought?
... So. Dying.
She's dying, dying in the middle of the road in some grimy mixture of mud and her own blood, hand hovering uselessly over her stomach as if that will somehow stop the bleeding. The young woman knows it won't; it's just an instinctive reaction of her body. It's too late at this point to do anything. She's not sure if anything could've been done in the first place at all. Injuries of this sort, it's a miracle in itself that she's even still alive at this moment. Even though, she's fully aware that she won't last for much longer.
"I... Ine..."
She blinks. Long, slow. A simple movement that has never been so hard as it is at this time, in this moment.
But still. Still. There is blood in her eyes, and it's so very hard to make out even the silhouette of her betrothed, lying right next to her in the mud. His voice is ragged with pain, and she can hear an audibly wet, fleshy sound when he coughs. Sharp, jarring.
"Ine," he tries again. "I... I'm so... so... rry..."
Ah, right. It was his idea in the first place, this midnight outing. I have a surprise for you, Ine-san, he'd said. Or something along those lines, when he'd proposed a quiet stroll in the snow beneath the moonlight. Something romantic.
... It probably says a lot about her that, even on the cusp of death like this, Ine still doesn't feel anything towards the man next to her, the man who she is due to marry in the next month.
(Was.)
Emotions are difficult. Like looking through a pitch-dark glass; nothing seen, and nothing reflected back, save for hazy echoes. Were she a better person, Ine might've tried to summon up some reassuring words in this moment, to say something kind to this man who proclaims to love her so dearly. As it is, love is an emotion that seems to be out of her capacity in this lifetime; all she feels as he stretches out bloody fingertips towards her cheek is a sort of bone-weary tiredness.
So, the young woman closes her eyes.
It's cold and it hurts, everything hurts so badly, and Ine just wants everything to be over already. You'd think that blood loss would accompany a loss of sensation, numbness, before everything slipping into the inevitable, eventual darkness, but... it's nothing like that. If anything, the pain continues to amplify, amplify, amplify with each passing moment.
Ine would scream, if she'd still had the strength to do so. Probably.
It's like... like thousands of needles stabbing into her skin, turning everything inside-out. Like acid running through her veins, burning and melting through flesh and bone alike. It's almost as if there are a thousand little hooks, paper-thin knives, digging themselves deep into her and ripping her apart, reducing her into nothing but the basest mass of flesh and nerves that humans are made of, except...
Except Ine is still there, still breathing, and the pain only continues to build and build and build; endlessly, endlessly, endlessly. A crescendo of pain that is ever so cold, leaving Ine so cold and freezing and... and she'd thought that the cold would numb her pain, that everything would end as death approached. Not this.
But there is nothing Ine can do, save for suffer silently through it all. Lying in a pool of her own blood with nothing to keep her company but this excruciating pain ravaging her body no less gently than the monster who'd torn it apart... and, distantly, the trembling voice of her husband to-be in her ears, apologizing to her again and again until at last the world falls silent.
Ah.
He's dead, isn't he.
... She should be crying. Crying and raging against the world, fearful and despairing by turns.
But in this moment, the only thought that comes to her mind is: Dying had really been a lot better the first time around, when it hadn't involved slowly bleeding out in the middle of a muddy road in the dead of the night.
Ine's only consolation is that it shouldn't take too long. She's already been bleeding for quite awhile; there's only so much blood the human body can lose, before death comes calling.
...
...
... why isn't she dead yet.
How long has it been? Ine can't say for certain, but it's been... quite awhile, lying here in the darkness of night, waiting for death to claim her. Except, as absurd as it is-
She's not dying?
How?
The pain, it's... it's actually fading, somewhat. Strange. But even so, that still doesn't exactly make her current situation any less confusing. Because she's dying right now, isn't she? Bleeding out into the muddy ground and all? And beside her, her husband-to-be is already cold and still, and has already been like that for quite some time. He's not breathing anymore. He's dead.
And for some unfathomably reason, she is not.
Ine is hurt and tired and confused, but somehow very much not dead, even with half of her intestines spilled out and decorating the dirt road grotesquely. She should be dead. She should be dead. Deader than dead. Maybe it'll finally stick this time, even.
The pale-faced young woman closes her eyes. She continues lying there numbly in the dirt, waiting to die, and it's not until the sun is on the verge of rising and something in her instincts suddenly rears up and screams at her to move move MOVE that Ine finally does. Ine rises to her feet in a single fluid motion, awkwardly stuffing her intestines back into her stomach at the same time, because that's not something to be leaving out and about in the mud and snow, right?
… Ha.
It hurts. Everything hurts and Ine just knows that she's going about this the wrong way, but it's not like she has any medical training to even attempt treating herself –and honestly speaking, she's not sure something like this is treatable, anyways. She's still a little mystified by the whole 'not being dead yet' thing, and–
Aaaand holy shit.
Ine slowly removes her hand from her stomach, and stares as her flesh roils in a bloody mess and the wound closes, mending in on itself until nothing but smooth, unblemished skin is left behind.
"… What the hell?"
There are no forthcoming answers to her incredulous whisper; in the dead of the winter night, there is nothing but the resounding silence and heavy scent of blood hanging thick and heavy in the frigid air.
(That, and a sudden dryness burning in the back of her throat.)
.
.
.
AKA: That one Demon Slayer fic with a strange demon!OC that doesn't eat humans, shockingly enough. Something something surprise, the doctor who originally turned Muzan into a demon isn't actually dead!
.
.
…
.
Author's Notes:
Hello! So it's been quite awhile since I've updated any of my stories, mostly it just boils down to being busy in RL, really. While I figure out what I'll be doing with my pre-existing fics (and chase after shiny new plot bunnies, I guess), for now I've decided to just post some small scraps/snippets of various OC plot bunnies I've dabbled with but most likely won't be going forward with as full-length fics.
Hopefully this brings you all a bit of amusement in these trying times! I sincerely hope that everyone is doing well, taking care of themselves and staying safe and healthy.
-XxZuiliu