Strawberry Panic {TomTord}

Violence is not a precursor to romance

"Don't lie to me."

It was growled through a thick, heavy sneer, a snarling mouth stretched thinly over a large fanged scowl. Voice deep and vibrating, almost as though it had an echoing effect- it was dark, calculating, being pushed up from his core. Black, gaping pits for eyes squinted in rage, faintly glowing a sickly ghoulish red, wisps of inky smoke twisting up from the edges.

This wasn't him.

A strength he had laid abandoned from his consciousness had awakened, leaking out of his subconscious and fuelling the fire of deep-rooted anger that welled up like tar.

Clawed hands sunk down into yielding flesh, sharp and unforgiving as the slowly growing talons tore restlessly. Several snapping and grotesque crunching sounds erupted from the damaged limb- it was like music to his ears.

He couldn't stop if he tried.

Tord had sunk down to his knees, twitching and thrashing as his screams of agony mixed in with the beautiful sounds of his torment, swelling together in rhythm to form a great symphony. Hot, salty streams trickled from his wide, open eyes, staring unblinkingly in horror, mouth gaped open and his pupil's tiny pinpricks.

Tom leaned forward slightly, enjoying the view- a powerful leader laying helpless on his knees, begging for mercy in front of his doting army.

He was a puppet.

A series of horrified gasps and terrified screams filled the air- the scientists pressing themselves back against the white, sterile walls, unwilling to help, but also unwilling to look away.

"You don't love me." He spoke at last, the words flowing with malice and dejection, "If you think that you can manipulate me, wave my past in front of my face, and knowingly use it in your fucking ridiculous plot to take over the world- then you clearly don't know what love is."

Tord only gasped, half listening as he struggled.

Tom continued, unfazed by the obvious discomfort, "No one truly believes that they're a bad person- they just have goals in life that they want to fulfil, and they don't care about the consequences, because think they're doing the right thing."

"You strut around like you're trying to make the world a better place- but it's all bullshit! All you want is chaos and power- you're a psychopath, Tord!" He was vaguely aware of the sticky, black goo leaking out of his eyes, clinging to his cheeks like a bastardised version of tears, "Psychopaths don't have the empathy to truly love someone."

Breaking off he hiccuped dryly, "You can't love me. And I was stupid to think otherwise."

"Classic, stupid Tom."

With an angry, exhausted snort, he ripped his grip away, watching with a mixture of sorrow and delight as the limb completely splinter into two. Blood gushed up from several of the wounds, collecting into a nightmarish puddle of sticky crimson beneath his knees- sharp fractions of bones sticking up out of the ruined flesh, ghost white and rendered completely useless.

Tord cradled it with his other arm, gasping weakly and shaking- shock had clearly set in.

"Relax." Tom muttered, "It's not like you've never lost a limb before."

"Gjør noe, du idioter!" Tord suddenly screamed, agony lacing slickly with the foreign words.

All at once, the scientists began moving behind him, grabbing stools and brandishing them like weapons. A blaring, screeching of an alarm sounded, sharp and cutting- someone had hit the panic button.

Two sloppily dressed soldiers ran into the room, hair messy and faces flushed from what was presumably the run over (although he did have his doubts). Slamming the door closed in a hurried rush, the one with the bandaged eye began speaking.

"Red Leader, sir- you requested our assi-"

His uncovered eye widened upon seeing the scene, his cigarette falling limply from his mouth the other shoulder next to him gasping in shock and grasping at his sleeve. 

"Herregud..."

Tom watched them both in interest- it wasn't every day he got to witness the reaction of two strangers seeing a half transformed monster maid and a deformed political figure. 

In a flash, they both whipped out their handguns, cocking them threateningly.

Ah. 

Yeah, he probably should have expected that. 

A bullet whizzed past his shoulder, and he squeaked, jumping in the air in fright. More joined in, firing from their guns, embedding into the wall behind him. 

Tucking up into a roll, he ducked behind a nearby fallen desk, flushing his form against it as he shook violently. Knees to his chest, he wracked his brain furiously- was there any way to get out of this situation alive?

Glass shards littered the floor, raining down with different colours of noxious liquid, beakers shattering into pieces as more bullets showered down. 

If you want to keep using my body, at least protect me, he screamed in his mind, placing his hands over his head in protection, rocking back and forth. Dully, he noted how the flesh of his arms had hardened and turned into a muted black, almost scally from the elbow down. It was the same for his legs- his delicate blue flats torn apart from the large, clawed feet that he suddenly possessed. 

As his breathing stilled, he watched, almost detached in a way, as the harsh, protective skin grew. Spreading across his body like a disease, greedily lapping up his form and leaving behind a murky, corrupted shell.

"Oh n-" His panicked whisper was cut off, as he was jerked forward, gritted his fanged teeth in pain as he felt his spine snap out of place. Familiar, twinging pain surged up his sides and he grunted loudly, barely heard over the bursts of shooting noises and exploding of glass.

Vaguely, he was aware of a hitch pitched, petrified scream coming from the right of him, and the pinching pressure of two massive horns springing up from his scalp. Everything else was lost as he fell unconscious, wrapped within the tight, protective embrace of the creature he had fought so long to repress.  

--

A/N: Fun fact; I collapsed today. In public. Do not recommend. 

It was basically due to a lack of food, sleep and too much exercise. I'll have to change something in my routine so I don't die- you can't write gay smut if you're six foot under. 

Today's fanart is from the user Otter! The first person to use the email (what an amazing surprise to wake up to, oh my god!) and honestly?? I l o v e this- and it matches with the chapter! What more could you possibly want?? Aaa, thanks again <333

Translation: 

  "Gjør noe, du idioter!" - "Do something, you idiots!"

  "Herregud..." -  "Oh my god..."