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shybatboy.bsky.social
night time
@shybatboy.bsky.social
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hexmunculus.bsky.social
Hellraiser AU with the Arcane Herald as the leader of the cenobites and Jayce as the final girl trope
"Come on," he croaked to the empty room. "I know you're here. Might as well finish it." And the world obliged him. Reality folded like wet paper. Heat drained from the air. Behind him, impossibly near, a voice said: "Such bravery to summon your executioner." Jayce didn't flinch. He was past flinching. He turned. The Arcane Herald stood over him like a sermon written in flesh and geometry. Runes carved into his skin glowed with a calm, cruel light. Chains hovered behind him in a halo of fractal motion, each link whispering promises of what they could do to a body already softened by despair. The Herald tilted his head with a clinician's appreciation. "You endure." Not admiration, not pity - an observation, the way one notes the heart still beating on a dissection table. "Yeah, well," Jayce rasped, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, "you're not the first monster who's tried to break me." "Yeah, well," Jayce rasped, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, "you're not the first monster who's tried to break me. "No," Viktor said, stepping closer. "But I will be the last." Jayce stiffened, spine straightening despite the bruises screaming in protest. He hated how small he felt before the Herald - hated that he still met that obsidian gaze without looking away. "You think you can just... take me?" Jayce spat. "Torch my world, carve me open, and l'll - what - crawl to you?" A chain darted forward with a hiss like a struck match, stopping a whisper from his throat. Jayce held absolutely still. The Herald regarded him with something too intent to be indifference. "You misunderstand," he said. "You have been crawling long before I arrived." Jayce's jaw clenched. Something sick and electric twisted in his chest - anger, yes, but also the horrific relief of finally being perceived. Of someone looking directly at the rot inside him instead of pretending it wasn't there. Viktor reached out, touching Jayce's cheek with a fingertip that glowed faintly — gentle, impossibly gentle, considering what he was. Jayce sucked in a breath. "You have survived so much ruin, " Viktor murmured, almost reverent. "You wear grief like armor. You bleed and do not fall. You open doors that should stay shut, not out of hunger, but out of refusal to lie down and die." His hand slid to Jayce's jaw, tilting it upward. "You are a marvel of resistance." The words shouldn't have sounded like praise. Shouldn't have made Jayce's knees tremble.
December 8, 2025 at 1:43 AM