(no subject)
sometimes, he wanted it.
(392 words) / (characters: beast boy)
the beast within is unwelcome. or is it?
I'm pretty new at writing Teen Titans stuff (I'm always scared it'll never live up!) so be nice, ha. but feel free to tell me if it's no good. I've always been interested in beast boy's changes and stuff, so instead of writing something with a pairing and lots of plot I thought I'd do a test run first and this came out.
The beast wasn't always pushing, but it was always there.
He hated himself the most then. It wasn't because he knew he could become something completely unlike himself (so malicious and terrifying, an animal) and have no recollection of the events. It wasn't because the thoughts he had, if any, were always so raw and primal and so very ...unlike him. It was because sometimes, just sometimes, he wanted it.
The endorphins in his blood seemed to rush. They hurried as they swarmed into him with a new exciting energy that stunk of rage and terror, the bittersweet sickly smell that hung in the air and clung onto his skin for days even after. It could never be washed off in the shower, despite his urgent rubbing that reddened and bruised his green skin. The best part was that the others couldn't smell it and so it was something he kept to himself. It was a smell he (mostly) hated, but sometimes it would waft lightly to him and he would savor it with ecstasy, the smell of a monster. The changeling could swear that he almost saw red at these weak moments, the ones where he fell to his knees, at the complete mercy of the thing inside him. His fists were squeezed tightly together as the skin stretched over his knuckles and his fingernails dug sharply into hardened skin of his palm. The pain didn't bother him, no, right now all he could focus on was the inside of his eyelids shut tightly together in concentration and the screams threatening his throat. He couldn't let it win. The fast tear of a muscle weakened him as he lay in his room, willing himself not to change.
But he was angry, so angry.
And he wanted it.
He stood, but quickly fell in defeat as he gave himself up, only to hear the thud of a body, his small body, on the floor moments later. The changeling's breaths were fast and uneven, an easy match to the thud of his heart, and he unclenched his fists to finally feel the vicious stinging. His legs twitched beneath him as his muscles screamed in pain and everything in his body wants to collapse, to fail him. And every single time, it almost does.
He panted lightly and clutched his chest. The beast ached.
(392 words) / (characters: beast boy)
the beast within is unwelcome. or is it?
I'm pretty new at writing Teen Titans stuff (I'm always scared it'll never live up!) so be nice, ha. but feel free to tell me if it's no good. I've always been interested in beast boy's changes and stuff, so instead of writing something with a pairing and lots of plot I thought I'd do a test run first and this came out.
The beast wasn't always pushing, but it was always there.
He hated himself the most then. It wasn't because he knew he could become something completely unlike himself (so malicious and terrifying, an animal) and have no recollection of the events. It wasn't because the thoughts he had, if any, were always so raw and primal and so very ...unlike him. It was because sometimes, just sometimes, he wanted it.
The endorphins in his blood seemed to rush. They hurried as they swarmed into him with a new exciting energy that stunk of rage and terror, the bittersweet sickly smell that hung in the air and clung onto his skin for days even after. It could never be washed off in the shower, despite his urgent rubbing that reddened and bruised his green skin. The best part was that the others couldn't smell it and so it was something he kept to himself. It was a smell he (mostly) hated, but sometimes it would waft lightly to him and he would savor it with ecstasy, the smell of a monster. The changeling could swear that he almost saw red at these weak moments, the ones where he fell to his knees, at the complete mercy of the thing inside him. His fists were squeezed tightly together as the skin stretched over his knuckles and his fingernails dug sharply into hardened skin of his palm. The pain didn't bother him, no, right now all he could focus on was the inside of his eyelids shut tightly together in concentration and the screams threatening his throat. He couldn't let it win. The fast tear of a muscle weakened him as he lay in his room, willing himself not to change.
But he was angry, so angry.
And he wanted it.
He stood, but quickly fell in defeat as he gave himself up, only to hear the thud of a body, his small body, on the floor moments later. The changeling's breaths were fast and uneven, an easy match to the thud of his heart, and he unclenched his fists to finally feel the vicious stinging. His legs twitched beneath him as his muscles screamed in pain and everything in his body wants to collapse, to fail him. And every single time, it almost does.
He panted lightly and clutched his chest. The beast ached.