Bathic
!!Z9LmIhi3uII
(ID: lfZF6n4Y)
9/23/2025, 3:47:19 AM
No.6309773
"I will NEVER die to you!" Maybe you can sort of swing yourself onto her head? Or drop your tail like a lizard? Don't lizards do that? "EVILDOER!"
"You're stupid and you're repetitive. Boy, I hate that. Hey, should I squeeze you to death? That's kind of fun. Ribs going pop, stuff like that. Hey, whoa, cut that out!"
You were swinging. Ramsey's cloak rustles and opens and an arm emerges: not a shadow-arm, an actual one, but it's black-scaled and sharp-clawed and thick as a tree and generally a embarrassing ripoff of your monstrous Lizard Arm. Can #301 not do anything by himself? Shameful! You're still gripped in it, though, arms pinned to your side, and you have no doubt it could squeeze you to death if appropriate measures weren't taken.
"Thank you. See, I like that option. But maybe instead I... hey! I see you concentrating!"
«I failed to improve the obviousness of your facial expressions. I apologize.»
Ugh! Yes, you were concentrating, though you hadn't settled on what yet. Maybe turning yourself so slippery she couldn't hold you, or something. But Ramsey is pointing, and her Crown is shedding light, and an arrow drives through your skull, or something, and your vision constricts and you ball instinctively.
>[-2 ID: 7/16]
"Yeah! Knew it! I have to watch you, don't I? You always think you can get away with something. Geez, I hate arrogant people. Wish I could watch you squirm when I get that crystal back. Maybe I can turn you into a mouse or something? A bug? Slug? Hell, why not? I'm not getting any good fight out of you. Here we go."
Now Ramsey is the one concentrating, and the arrow in your head is sending splitting tendrils out, and you are shrieking— can't help it— as something very, very bad is happening to you, as your saliva is turning burnt-tasting and goop is sliding from your nose and as your body is crackling and trembling and your skin softens and your toes retract and your eyeballs poke, one after another, curiously from out of your—
And it is worse than Richard, who has disassembled and reassembled you, but at his worst, at his snakiest, only did it with you asleep. (It was against his material interest to traumatize you.) You are attempting to marshal everything against this, and Richard is saying things you can't understand, but he's probably marshaling everything too, but it hurts, it hurts, and the whole Crown is nuclear white and bent against you. The power of God. 15/16ths the power of God.
>[-3 ID: 4/16]
And then it subsides and your eyeballs zoop back in and your toes (and fingers and) zoop back out and your skin is tacky with sweat but basically firm and you cough really hard. Ramsey frowns. "Fuck. I can't get it right. Snickers, how do I do this again?"
Her snake is still. She nudges it. "Snickers?"
=—do you MEAN, 'taken off the'— by the order of the— by the order of WHO?!=
(3/4?)
"You're stupid and you're repetitive. Boy, I hate that. Hey, should I squeeze you to death? That's kind of fun. Ribs going pop, stuff like that. Hey, whoa, cut that out!"
You were swinging. Ramsey's cloak rustles and opens and an arm emerges: not a shadow-arm, an actual one, but it's black-scaled and sharp-clawed and thick as a tree and generally a embarrassing ripoff of your monstrous Lizard Arm. Can #301 not do anything by himself? Shameful! You're still gripped in it, though, arms pinned to your side, and you have no doubt it could squeeze you to death if appropriate measures weren't taken.
"Thank you. See, I like that option. But maybe instead I... hey! I see you concentrating!"
«I failed to improve the obviousness of your facial expressions. I apologize.»
Ugh! Yes, you were concentrating, though you hadn't settled on what yet. Maybe turning yourself so slippery she couldn't hold you, or something. But Ramsey is pointing, and her Crown is shedding light, and an arrow drives through your skull, or something, and your vision constricts and you ball instinctively.
>[-2 ID: 7/16]
"Yeah! Knew it! I have to watch you, don't I? You always think you can get away with something. Geez, I hate arrogant people. Wish I could watch you squirm when I get that crystal back. Maybe I can turn you into a mouse or something? A bug? Slug? Hell, why not? I'm not getting any good fight out of you. Here we go."
Now Ramsey is the one concentrating, and the arrow in your head is sending splitting tendrils out, and you are shrieking— can't help it— as something very, very bad is happening to you, as your saliva is turning burnt-tasting and goop is sliding from your nose and as your body is crackling and trembling and your skin softens and your toes retract and your eyeballs poke, one after another, curiously from out of your—
And it is worse than Richard, who has disassembled and reassembled you, but at his worst, at his snakiest, only did it with you asleep. (It was against his material interest to traumatize you.) You are attempting to marshal everything against this, and Richard is saying things you can't understand, but he's probably marshaling everything too, but it hurts, it hurts, and the whole Crown is nuclear white and bent against you. The power of God. 15/16ths the power of God.
>[-3 ID: 4/16]
And then it subsides and your eyeballs zoop back in and your toes (and fingers and) zoop back out and your skin is tacky with sweat but basically firm and you cough really hard. Ramsey frowns. "Fuck. I can't get it right. Snickers, how do I do this again?"
Her snake is still. She nudges it. "Snickers?"
=—do you MEAN, 'taken off the'— by the order of the— by the order of WHO?!=
(3/4?)