Name: Sebastian
Title: caught by the midway
Story: Unnamed sentient carnival verse of doom. Which will gt a name at some point
Colors: Halloween Orange: 7. In mercy's shadow, nothing grows
Supplies: None
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Being kept against one's own will.
Word count; 544
Notes: bookblather asked for girls cuddling for a trick-or-treat meme. I'm almost dead sure she did not have this in mind but it's what came out.


Fingers curl around your throat, an unspoken threat from a girl who has no voice. She presses her sewn lips into your hair, holding you there, her other hand running up and down your arm as if to tel you it's all going to be okay.

She's a contradiction but you aren't surprised.

"You're safe here," her eyes seem to say. "You're safe with us."

And as you sink into her cold embrace, you understand what it's like to be trapped.

~

The carnival is bright and shiny, blaring music and the smell of sugar in the air. It's dizzying in the best possible way and you grin like an idiot.

You're so excited to be there.

You grab her hand, the most recent in a long string of girls who've failed to entertain you for too long, and pull her along the midway towards the ticket booth. You are eager as hell to get going and while she is less enthused, she moves with you all the same, seemingly pleased to see you so delighted.

~

It's just before twilight and people are filtering in and out. She's by your side, your new keeper. She' has a hand on the collar around your neck and you bite down a small whimper as she brushes fingers against your bruised skin.

Tonight is your first night, the night you get to be on display and earn the right to be claimed by the carnival.

You sallow hard, pushing your hands deep in your pocket and try not tot think about it.

~

You pull her into a fun house because they always scared you. They were strange and twisted and you loved them with all your heart for reasons you could never articulate. They made you feel at odds with the world in a very real way, rather than the distant, not-quite-able-to-explain way that you always feel at odds with everything.

"I don't wanna go," she says, pulling away.

You don't listen to her, barreling forward through the tangles of thick punching bags hanging. Fuck her if she doesn't want to join. She was getting boring already anyway.

You get through and fall into the darkness of the next room, feeling your way around for a wall r something to play with your senses.

A hand grabs your wrist, pulling you forward and you laugh, a wide grin on your face.

Another hand grabs you by the back of the neck, pushing you until you stumble.

A third is at the small of your back, nails digging into your skin.

A fourth is around your mouth.

~

You are one of those hands in the dark and you are one of those freaks in the cage. You are the ticket keeper and the entertainer. The person at the controls of the rides and the barker calling out to anyone who passes.

You are all of them and you are none of them. You are bound tot he show, a slave to the midway. You are claimed and caught and as you close your eyes again and again and again, you try to ignore the hand on your throat, the kiss on your temple and the feeling of hands, so many hands, all over your bdy.