Seizure - Tumblr Posts

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIESUnconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | “It’s us or them.”

OC Whump

Hi, here is my contribution no.7 for Whumptober !

This one doesn’t need that much lore to be understood, but if you have any questions, I'd obviously be more than happy to answer! Also, English isn't my first language, so i apologize for any mistake. Check the tags for TW and enjoy !

Brian was normally very good at saving his strength. For any lightning magician, this was absolutely vital, and a large part of the training of the members of his guild, mostly made up of lightning mages, consisted of learning to carefully control the flow of energy and determine the minimum level necessary.

There was a blur of movement to his right and he let his magic enhance his reflexes, the shortened nerve impulses enabling him to move in time to dodge the hammer that smashed the ground where he stood just in time. A splinter of rock cut into his cheek without him even feeling it, completely focused on his opponent's next moves. There was an opening !

Brian threw himself forward in a burst of white light, aiming for the vital points.

The man he was up against straightened up, too quickly for it to be natural, and ploughed through the air with his weapon.

Brian leapt back with a cry of rage, forced to retreat again, skidding on the wet ground. He barely recovered and put a few more steps between himself and the enemy.

The latter, instead of continuing his attacks, watched him with a hallucinatory gaze, a euphoric sparkle in his eyes.

For God's sake, a guy of his build wasn't even supposed to be wielding a war hammer ! He was skinny, weak and obviously barely trained to fight ! Not even a challenge for a certified guild leader !

Brian gritted his teeth as the faint metallic taste in his mouth became more noticeable. In theory, the guy should have been on the ground by now, yes. If he wasn't the worst kind of opponent for a lightning mage.

A Berserker. Or at least, a pale imitation of one. Completely drugged with black henbane, insensitive to pain, endowed with enhanced strength and, worst of all, delirious stamina.

Brian's grip on his sword had been trembling for a good two minutes. He tightened it as best he could and tried to think above the panic that was beginning to mount. They were in the sewers, narrow and shifting spaces, in which using his increased speed was difficult and dangerous, especially when relying only on his imperfect night vision. Running away was not an option, and the very thought of it stirred a deep revolt within him.

But so was continuing to fight against such a resilient man.

Mages with an affinity for lightning essentially fought in two ways : by using their ultra-speed in a refined way to beat the enemy in a matter of seconds, or by unleashing huge discharges of power in just a few bursts. Brian couldn't count on the latter after putting his powers to work all the day, especially given the state he'd been in the week before, right after another seizure. As for the first...part of the problem stemmed from the Berserker's own reflexes.

The other came from Brian's deep-seated fear of what would happen if he missed. Or if the Berserker got up as if nothing had happened.

If the guild leader went all out, he could certainly give him one hell of a beating. But the price to be paid for this success...

The madman rushed at him with a scream, and Brian felt his power roar through his veins, tingling in his fingertips, in his legs, vibrating in every muscle. He barely dodged, swollen with adrenalin mixed with indecision. He pivoted and in a second of quick thinking lacerated the assailant's flank. He was rewarded with a satisfying spurt of blood. The man didn't scream or even slow down : he stretched out his leg to trip Brian. The lightning magician moved to dodge it too...

...And a sudden muscle contraction in his calf caused him to stumble anyway. He barely recovered, compensating with his good leg to transform his fall into a roll that allowed him to get up hastily and unleash a bolt of lightning from his fingertips that kept his opponent at bay. His outstretched fingers twitched spasmodically, as did his right leg. He'd dropped his sword in his fall, his strained muscles unable to keep a firm grip on the movement.

Oh shit, he was absolutely losing this duel, wasn't he ?

The gunman stared at his fingers for a second, then a delighted smile stretched across his face. He raised his eyes, staring at Brian.

-You're dead, you bastard.

The voice was hoarse and the words garbled, painfully extracted from the depths of a brain clearly not at its best when it comes to word.

The guild leader didn't reply, his heart in his throat, unable to think of an answer at the same time as his survival.

This wasn't the first time he'd found himself in this situation, and each time it felt like the last. And maybe it was the last, Brian mused, his leg and arms twitching spasmodically and unceasingly. A dull terror gripped his throat, soaking his palms with a sweat that had nothing to do with the effort. How many times had this same terror pressed against him in recent years?

Saving his strength, planning every necessary move, retreating as soon as possible at the slightest doubt. The daily routine of a lightning mage, the precepts that all those who employed these particular spells had to follow. He knew this. He knew exactly what consequences he was exposing himself to by neglecting these basic precautions.

And yet, he continued to end up in this position, always.

Brian exhaled slowly, the breath trapped in his lungs.

This wasn't the first time.

The Berserker launched a final charge to finish off his enemy.

Barely had he completed his first step when a flash of white blinded him. Then, a detonation, so powerful that he screamed in pain as his eardrums exploded, the destruction of delicate organs enough to briefly overcome even the insensitivity of the Berserker trance. In the confusion of the moment, he felt something going through his neck.

The afterimage on his retina finally dissipated. He wobbled, blinking wide-eyed to take stock, warm liquid dripping onto his shoulders from the two points of pain on either side of his head and on his chest.

The magician had disappeared.

For a second, he just stared at the last place he had stood. Gone...gone...a flash...

He turned around.

Crouched in the dust and leaning his shoulder against the wall to keep from collapsing, the man was staring at him with something that could only be terror on his blood-spattered face. And a kind of disbelief. Clearly, he hadn't expected to lose to a guy with almost no experience. His little escape attempt had failed.

The Berserker stepped forward to finish him off. Then the world turned, his legs gave up and he collapsed. He grunted in bewilderment, tried to lean on his arms to get up, but they gave way too, and he found himself flat on his back. His extremities were strangely numb, and for some reason his top was soaked through. He couldn't move enough to see, though. All he could do was growl at the mage, because the bastard had done something... !

He growled, struggling as he rapidly weakened, and as he flailed his gaze landed on an object on the ground beside the guildmaster. A small, blood-stained dagger.

His mind was no longer clear enough to make the connection, and he bled to death in a matter of seconds.

Brian could have fainted with relief. He had sincerely believed that this madman would manage to get up and kill him. But apparently, even Berserkers needed blood to live.

He'd managed to use what little stamina he had left in a final, full-speed thrust, pulling out his dagger to slit the man's throat. He'd finally won.

But he wasn't out of the woods yet.

Another violent muscle spasm painfully contracted his leg for a few seconds. Teeth clenched, Brian managed to tear his cape from around his neck quickly. Fortunately, the pin had been specially designed to detach easily. Better to lose a cape than a man. He threw the pin on the side, then maneuvered his body shaking with tiny uncontrollable tremors to the side as fast as he could, clumsily putting the cape under his head. He only had a few seconds left before the worst of the crisis struck. He lay on his side as comfortably as he could, his vision devoured by dazzling white flashes.

Reinforcements were on their way. A location enchantment was bound to the cape pin and he'd gone deep into the tunnels hours before. They were probably looking for him now. This wasn't the first crisis he'd suffered after overusing his powers.

He was still repeating these thoughts over and over to himself when a sudden wave of muscular contractions seized him.

Since my editor has epilepsy, this is especially in support for him and even better for medical help. Please keep these in mind, especially if you know anyone with it.

Seizure First Aid. 

Learn it. Share it. Know it. Use it. 

😭 Arlong-! Where has the fandom been all my life???~ I loved this immensely, and it is certainly a treat to read something about one if my favourite Fishmen. I cry an encore. Double servings of Arlong, please~!!! 😍🩵🥰♥️💕✨✨

Shark Bait - Arlong x Reader

Arlong x Fish/Human Hybrid AFAB Reader

Content Warning – This is a darker story than my other Arlong Pirates related work (and has no connection to said works, consider this my dark Arlong AU) and was inspired from a prompt/headcanons from @sheisabitchbicth here on Tumblr and contains elements of yandere, dubcon, and noncon. (and yes, this work is 18+/NSFW!)

If no likey, there’s the Back button. I have other OP stories or other works that may be more your taste.

If you like this kind of thing though, then read on. I’ve been wanting to do something dark for a bit, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so, so have fun with this guilty pleasure project of mine :) All feedback is very much appreciated.

Shark Bait - Part 1

You had never met another fishperson in your life until Arlong’s crew came across you. Your parents were slaves who had escaped together, using their combined skills to make their way out. From what your mother told you, they became friends while they were slaves, and after their escape they were lovers for a while. Eventually, they parted, though on amicable terms. Your mother never told your father that she was pregnant, though.

She did not want to return to her family or native land, though. So she found an island that seemed out of the way, and settled there. People felt bad for her for being a former slave, so when you were born, they looked in the other direction, so you for the most part led a quiet life. Your father’s heritage gave you the ability to breathe underwater, so you would go fishing, or search for various items that would augment your mother’s meager income. Sometimes you might help out neighbors in a similar manner, so even though you were half fishwoman, you found some acceptance in your community.

By the time you were in your late teens, you were used to most people not noticing your gills, or the color of your skin. You stayed out of trouble and often out of sight. If you dressed appropriately and wore a large hat or hood, you could escape the notice of Marines who touched upon your island during their trips. It was a quiet life. Were you happy? Sometimes you were not sure. As you’d gotten older, you wanted to know more about your father’s people, and there was only so much your mother could tell you.

So one day, you’re out swimming, and looking for treasures that you can bring home. Since you’ve pretty much picked clean the areas closest to the island, you’ve had to venture out further, which hey, it’s great swimming practice. You feel at peace in the sea, feeling it move through your lungs as you move through the water. You know there are fish- and merfolk and Sea Kings and beasts out there, but at the moment it’s easy to imagine that you are alone in this world. You drift past the coral, admiring it.

Suddenly, you see movement out of the corner of your eye and turn around to see what you are almost certain is another person darting off in the murky distance, if it’s not a large fish. A few of the people on the island dive, but you know that none can dive this far or deep. So maybe it’s a big fish that would probably be a welcome meal for your mother. You’re debating whether you should go after it before a shadow passes overhead, and you look up, wondering if it’s another fish, when in shock you realize it’s a ship. You were so absorbed in your work that you’d failed to notice the coming of a ship, nor did you expect one as the Marines did not come by often. You drift towards the hulking dark shape before something much, much closer swoops down in front of you, close enough that you feel the water displacement against your body as he fills the space.

You see clear blue eyes and the longest nose you’ve ever seen, and there is a grin full of the sharpest teeth you’ve ever seen or even imagined. A short shriek bursts from your throat before a wave of lightheadedness overcomes you.

The next moments are a haze as you try to fight passing out. You are pulled to a strong chest before you are dragged to the surface, a red sun filling much of your vision as you stare dumbly at the chest of the person who’s taken you. You gasp softly as the two of you break the surface of the water, and your limbs hang limp as you’re hauled onto a ship that is most decidedly not a Marine ship. Or even a merchant ship, from the looks of it.

As your head lolls back, you get another look at the face of your captor. No, you didn’t imagine that serrated nose, or the mouth full of sharp teeth, and you start to panic, finding your strength and starting to push against him.

“Oh, we have a feisty one here,” Sawnose chortles, letting you go for but a moment before he grabs your wrists in his large hand, hoisting your hands above your head, leaving you helpless under his scrutiny, and he is not the only one staring.

“Let me go!” you cry, trying to kick him as other men surround you, with a variety of skin colors, some of them having fins, or other fishlike features, in a wide assortment. One thing they all have in common – and you do with them – are their gills. If you were not so frightened and anxious, you might be reveling in the fact that you’re finally meeting other fishmen for the first time in your life.

You are lifted off your feet, and can not help but feel like a hooked fish that is being held up by a fisherman for inspection or display. You try a few more kicks, but Sawnose is incredibly tall and his arm is long enough to keep you at just enough distance to keep you from any effective kick. He laughs as your feet graze his upper legs and stomach.

Your next instinct is to curl up as you see the hungry gazes that are fixed on your damp and near-nude form. You’ve found that diving is more comfortable the less clothes you wear, so you’re in a tank top and briefs, which both cling to you, your net bag hanging empty at your side. The way you’re being handled makes you wonder if these fishmen might try to sell you into slavery. You know your mother will worry about that if you do not come home.

“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” Sawnose asks with an amused tone. You try to be silent, but he snarls at you, and it’s obvious he could cause serious injury, so you have no choice but to answer his question, and any other that he wants to ask you. You confirm that you are indeed the child of a fishperson. When asked what that parent’s name was, you utter it, and his eyes widen.

You are dropped to the deck, wincing as you land on the bare wood. It is then that you learn that your father was once a crewmate of the man who’d just kidnapped you. For a moment you feel your heart leap up in your throat. Will you have the chance to meet him? But your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach when you learn he’s been dead for years. You start crying, and surprisingly, Sawnose kneels next to you, stroking your hair.

“I want to go home,” you plead.

“Silly girl. You are home,” he asserts as you give him a confused stare. He informs you that since you are the offspring of someone from his crew, it means you belong to the crew, and to its captain above all else. So… this means you’re not going to be sold into slavery? You’re just going to be conscripted into a pirate crew?

Fuck. Your mind races as you wonder how you can find your way out of this predicament. Because this can not fucking happen to you. Just because your father was a pirate… a father you’ve never met, who’d never even held you in his arms after you were born. What cruel fate has wrought this?

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” you manage to inquire as you rise to your feet, crossing your arms to maintain as much modesty as you can. It’s one thing to dive near-naked, when there is no one else around to impede on your enjoyment of the sea, and another to be ogled at by so many eyes. When’s the last time these men saw a woman?

Sawnose laughs, and introduces himself and his crew. He is the mighty captain Arlong the Saw, leader of the Arlong Pirates, and Lord of the East Blue. Your island is his next target in the expansion of his territory, and his men have been scouting around it for a couple of days, staying out of sight. You are an unexpected – but not unwelcome, Arlong assures you – find. Since you’re now part of the crew, you will be spared the tribute that Arlong and his crew are going to extract from the island.

Your thoughts fly to your mother. As a single mother, your mother never had much money. Usually there was food in your belly, and always a roof over your head. Your mother occasionally managed to scrape together enough money for a treat, for what was life without small enjoyments, she would say. You knew she had a bit of money squirreled away for medicine or doctors, and to your dismay, you remember how she has needed more of these in the last couple of years. How will she be able to afford all that on top of Arlong’s tribute, especially if you’re not there to help her?

As Arlong’s words sink in, and the reality of what your mother and the rest of the village faces, you feel light-headed again. Since you were a child, you would get an attack like this rarely, usually after being dealt with an emotional blow.

And this isn’t just an emotional blow. It’s a fucking emotional sucker-punch, and you actually pass out.

Someone is stroking your forehead and hair, and for a moment, you think it’s your mother tending to you. But you’re not in a bed, you’re… on someone’s lap, and your head and neck is on top of what you’re pretty sure is an arm. You hear conversation going on around you, footsteps bustling about, commands being given as the island comes into sight. A quiet whine escapes your throat as you struggle to gain consciousness.

“Looks like the little clownfish is coming awake,” you hear someone chuckle. You would come to hate being called that, for your captor uses it when he thinks you are being silly or stupid.

Who is calling you that, you wonder, and it all comes crashing upon you. Arlong. Arlong the Saw. Who just claimed you for himself and his crew. Who just told you the ultimate fate of your father. And who will terrorize your island and collect tribute from villagers who only want to live a quiet life. You try to bat away the hand that’s touching you, and suddenly find your wrist ensconced in the iron grip of the hand you just tried to defend yourself from.

“Now, now, there will be none of that,” you hear him chide, and you open your eyes, seeing these bright blue eyes and that impressive nose hovering over your face. Your first instinct is to scoot back but the arm that had been supporting you now holds you in his lap in an iron grip. It’s hard to not feel vulnerable pressed up against this impressive specimen of a fishman. And as your gaze darts around, you realize that the other fishmen are pretty tall too. Taller than even the tallest man in your village.

Now you really do feel like a little clownfish, surrounded by all sorts of predatory sea creatures.