#bel's writing

[much-ado-about-whumping]

Meet Mercy

It's been a while since I posted something original of mine here, but I think I might be due! Many, many thanks to the magnificent @newbornwhumperfly for transcribing this for me from a stream-of-consciousness Discord sketch. (I meant to post this in Mermay, but didn't quite make it - here it is a little late.)

Enter my genderfucky merfolk, Mercy.

Background: The creature who will come to be known as Mercy is captured by some sailors, roughly analogous to Age of Sail British imperialists but, like, in a fantasy way.

Content notes: Non-con, captivity, language barrier, dehumanization (of someone who isn't exactly human, but is human-like in sentience), experimentation, hurt/no comfort (for this installment), bondage, fantasy creature biology, sorta dysphoria, and some VERY FUCKY gender stuff, including essentially non-consensual hormone therapy. Trans readers, approach with caution; this was cathartic for me but might be painful for you, depending on your particular deal. You can DM me if you'd like more specific warnings for this piece.

Readers must be age 18+ for this one, friends.

---

The sailors think, at first, that their net has caught a very large fish. But they heave and haul and the furious thing they bring aboard has a torso, has arms, has a face, has a voice.

They don't know what he needs at first. They try to give him fresh water with his food, but it makes him sick. He thrashes in his ropes and screams words they don't understand, and it's only when someone dumps a bucket of icy brine over him as a punishment that they realize he's drying out. He needs salt water, not fresh.

And they touch him. All over. Inspect him. It's under a day before someone tries to fuck his mouth. He yowls and bites and his teeth are sharp and they curse him, hit him, bash his head against the deck.

They pry his mouth open with some piece of ship hardware and try again. They grow bored. Go exploring on his body while he squirms. Find his ass and fuck it while he screams and thrashes.

He cries his eyes raw. Feels like he can't breathe. Gets doused in salt water again, and he recovers, but he's damaged—

And he learns bits of their language.

Learns suck.

Learns still.

Learns down.

Water. Eat. Bitch.

He learns, in one bizarre encounter, hurts, when one of them tends to a cut on his brow. He hisses, pulls away. The sailor looks at him with a little sympathy.

"Hurts?" the sailor asks. He dabs gently, tentatively at the cut. Mercy hisses again. But the sailor only grips his jaw, not unkindly. Tries again.

Over his shoulder, someone teases him. Asks how his girlfriend is doing. The sailor waves him off. Says, "Even a beast deserves a little mercy."

He says it as he rubs a balm over the cut. Something that soothes the pain. The merman gazes at him, hopeless.

"Mercy?" he repeats quietly.

The sailor studies him for a moment. 

"You know, I think there is something going on behind his eyes," he says to his comrades.

Drops Mercy's chin. Leaves him to shiver, curled up, trembling in the corner by the barrels while the others drink.

Later that night, the merman screams mercy, mercy, mercy as they use him - and again the next day, and the next. That's how he gets his name.

And maybe, one day, they're exploring other ways to hurt him. To touch him. They have him stretched out, bound. The journey will take a month, at least, so there's no rush in examining him before they have to sell the poor thing off.

They find a sensitive spot beneath each of his arms, in the hollow where underarm meets breast. A little soft place, springy. When they press on it, he screams. It hurts. Like it's something deep inside him, something that isn't supposed to be touched. And he recoils, as if they've touched a very private place.

They keep pushing. Prodding. Massaging.

And something seems to shift. His flesh grows a little softer. His body slightly changes shape. It takes an hour of massaging him, but by the end he has soft little tits, a touch of padding where his hips would be if he were human. 

They maneuver him while he sobs, hurt and exhausted, and find...a cunt. Small. Tight. Like it needs more time to develop. But they can get a finger in right from the start. And they do.

Mercy wails.

Thrashes and fights and screams and screams and screams.

But the fingers come back, massaging the glands beneath his arms. Stretching his cunt open bit by bit. When they can fit two fingers inside, the sailors get impatient. One of them rams into him.

He screams like he's dying.

But they keep going, going, going, and when it's all over, Mercy is left torn and leaking. Crying softly. Half-hoping he'll drain out and die before they notice. No such luck - he's doused again and again, and eventually set him in a barrel of seawater to keep him hydrated.

Her. To keep her hydrated.

She's been female before. It isn't the femaleness she minds. But it takes weeks, usually. Her body is still reeling from being forced through the change in hours. She's aching. And they keep using her like this. They do it again, again - take pleasure in switching back and forth.

She's always tired. 

He always hurts.

His old name feels like a distant memory. Her body doesn't feel like hers.

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

despite my tears i will be reading.

It is posted… i also created a ref sheet for Meowcah (my interpretation), misc doodles made while writing, and art of the 4 kids. Some of the bonus doodles are by @og-doeiika

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 29- The Higher Realm

Next part. A little shorter, but I think part 30 or 31 may be the end of the official story, not counting any side parts. Wish me luck!

Masterpost linked here

_____________________

“Adonis is here.”

As I processed his words, I watched the glowing words: “Soul transfer 59% complete.“ fade away. Once they disappeared, I felt a surge in the strange dark power with me. I looked down at my hands, seeing a barely visible power coiling around them.

Finally, I broke past 49%! And I can sense this power better than before. It’s definitely growing, whatever it is... even if I can't use it still. Hopefully this become something useful!

“Bel? Are you okay?” Liam’s questions broke me from my thoughts, and I looked back at him, the brief flash of dark power fading back into nothingness.

“I’m okay. So Adonis is here? Already?” At the grim news, I rubbed my hands together in excitement. “FINALLY! It’s time to unleash my super secret trap!”

“Your trap?” Liam rubbed his shoulder, likely still feeling the pain from his gunshot wound from the lower realm. “Is this what you’ve been sneaking off lately to set up?”

“Yep!” I grabbed Liam’s hand and pulled him over to a carefully marked cleared area just far enough away from the cave to protect it. It may not be much, but it’s Liam’s home… my home. I’d rather Adonis stay far, far away from it.   

Liam was staring down at our clasped hands with an absentminded smile, and didn’t seem to pay attention to our direction. Looking around once we stopped, he was clearly confused. “Why are we stopping here?”

“This is where we want him to find us.” I said with a confident grin.

At my words, Liam gripped my hand tightly, as if afraid that I would be taken away. His anxiety was almost palpable.

I tried to reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Nothing good can ever stay here, Bel.” His eyes were filled with a sadness close to despair. “No matter how much I’ve tried to prevent it, everything here eventually withers and dies.”

“So do you want me to go back with Fart Sniffer McGee?”

He let out an involuntary snort at the silly, insulting name. “No I didn’t say that! I just…”

“Well, perhaps you should…”

A new voice spoke out as Adonis walked out from between the trees, standing in the small clearing in front of us. Seeing me, he smiled, a cocky expression. “Hello, Bel! Looks like your tamed monster recognizes reality better than you. Isn’t it time you admit it too?”

“There’s only one monster here," I said with a polite, distant smile. " And it’s not Liam.”

Adonis frowned. “Don’t deflect, Bel. The truth remains.”

“Truth?”

“What this villain said is correct: Nothing good can survive here. You don’t… you can’t belong here… you belong in the Higher Real. Even this beast knows it. You belong with me!”

“So you knew we were talking about you?” I turned to Liam, chuckling, “Look at him, so readily accepting of the new name Fart Sniffer McGee.”

“Very self-aware.” Liam nodded solemnly.

“Personal growth.” We both applauded politely.

He didn't seem amused at our antics. “SHUT UP!”

“Ooh, I don’t think he likes it.”

Liam shrugged. “We can think of others.”

“Ooh! A new one every day!” We threw out a few, each one more childish and ridiculous than the last. Once we reached “Captain Bum Nugget” however, Adonis finally snapped.

“I SAID SHUT UP!” He took a step forward with a threatening gesture, and I let out a shout of victory.

“FINALLY, YOU HIT THE MARK!” I quickly pulled a rope on the ground, and a net holding a load of large smelly... material... fell. Adonis was quickly covered head to toe, and was knocked to the ground by the weight of the net and its contents.

“…”

“…”

There was stunned silence, but it was quickly broken by my laughter. “That’s what you get! Did you really think you could waltz right into OUR realm without consequences?! Enjoy being smelly!”

I looked over at Liam, expecting him to agree with me… but instead he was staring at the… material… coating Adonis with a horrified expression. He then sat down on a nearby stump and slowly put his head in his hands.

“Bel…” He sighed as he spoke. “Do you know what that is?”

“It’s feces!” I answered cheerfully. “I assume from some sort of large beast, although I’ve never seen anything in this realm big enough to make poop like this! It took forever to collect it and set up this trap.” I thought for a moment. “It’s strange though, this has weird flecks in it, almost like tiny jewels… such an odd thing. Do you know which animal…?” I trailed off as I saw Liam’s shoulders shaking. Is he crying?

Liam finally lifted his head, laughing uncontrollably, his face bright red. After a long moment, he finally said “Bel, it’s very creative revenge, but… next time, why don’t we work together to plan it, okay?”  His tone seemed resigned.

“…Sure.” I hadn’t expected such a big reaction from him, but quickly agreed.

Adonis finally recovered from his shock.  “Bel, it’s time to go home.” His voice was low and intense, but the intimidation factor was incredibly dialed down by his feces-covered appearance.

“I AM home, Adonis.” I grabbed Liam’s hand again. “I’m staying here with Liam. In fact… we’ve just agreed to get married!”

Adonis lunged forward, but we took a huge step back, avoiding him.

“Cut the crap, Bel!”

“Ooh… poor choice of words!” I tried to high five Liam, who hesitated for a long moment, and then finally gave me one with another sigh.

Adonis was undisturbed. “Joke all you like. You can’t change reality with quips and funny words.” His face was distorted by a snarl. “I don’t know how you’re still alive, but even if you’ve found a temporary measure, it won’t last forever. You are a heroine. THE heroine. Your very nature rejects and is rejected by this realm. The longer you stay, the weaker you become. Even if you force yourself to remain here, then the realm itself will begin to destabilize and fade.”

His words struck like a blow. “You’re lying.” I whispered, wishing I believed my own words.

Adonis chuckled grimly. “I don’t lie, Bel. You and I don’t agree at all on a lot of things, but you know me well enough to know I don’t lie.”

“That doesn’t mean you tell all of the truth.” Liam finally spoke up, glaring.

Adonis didn’t back down. “Shut up, Monster.”

“Stop calling him that!”

“Silly, innocent, Bel.” Adonis laughed at my outburst. “What do you think Liam is?”

“Shut up.” I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

“I already told you: I don’t lie. I call Liam a monster because that’s exactly what he is.” He grinned. “ A literal monster. Don’t believe me? Just ask him.”

I felt Liam shaking beside me and gripped his hand tighter. I knew Liam wasn’t human, but I don’t want to learn the truth from Adonis. Which means I have one option left:

“Yeah, I know.” I rolled my eyes, and stated nonchalantly. “Liam told me a while ago.”

Bluffing.

Adonis was taken aback by my confidence, but soon his eyes narrowed, studying me. “You don’t know. He wouldn’t tell you!”

“Think what you want.” I shrugged. “But I’ve been here a while… since you kidnapped me and dumped me here, by the way… and it would be impossible for Liam to hide his true self for this long.”

“You…”

“I know everything.” I lied, knowing almost nothing. “And I don’t care. I’m staying with him anyways.”

Adonis was silent for a long moment, looking at us both, his gaze dropped, focusing on our clasped hands.

“FINE.” He turned around, and I tried not to chuckle as he trailed poop on the ground.

But his next words stilled any desire to laugh.

“This place will either kill you or destroy itself. The end will come sooner than you expect. If you don’t care about all the countless lower realms and all their innocent inhabits out there that you are condemning to destruction by staying here, then at least care about your own well being, or your friend’s, as he needs this place to stay alive.  If it fades... well, you know. I’ll come back to collect you once you’ve come to your senses.” He shook his head, and I felt a growing sense of dread. “Give up, Bel. You must accept your fate.”

He was gone, and Liam and I were left alone.

I let go of Liam’s hand, stepping away, and he reached out as if to catch me, his hand pausing mid-motion, his face pale.

His terrified eyes met mine. “Bel… I can explain.” Liam’s voice was hoarse, his eyes red, his hand still in the air, shaking. “Please… I’ll tell you everything. Just… just don’t hate me, please…not you too.”

My heart broke at his pain. I reached out, grabbed his outstretched hand and pulled him closer, hugging him tightly. “I don’t hate you.” I could feel his entire body trembling. “Not even a little.”

He stepped backwards, a small nervous smile on his face. “You say that now but… You don’t know my secret yet.”

“No matter WHAT you are, Liam. You are you. And that’s all that matters.” I held a finger against his lips as he started to speak again. “That being said. Why don’t you tell me in the morning? You and I are both tired, and I don’t really feel like hearing your biggest secret after Adonis the Poop King threatened us. Tell me in the morning, IF you really want me to know."

Liam’s smile grew, his whole expression lighter. “The morning then, I’ll tell you for sure.”

We separated to get some sleep.

_____________________

Fragments of worlds flashed through my dreams, one after the next, so quickly I couldn’t grasp what was happening. The few scenes it lingered on made me wish it hadn’t.

…

He was on the ground, bleeding from a gunshot wound. The growls of zombies could be heard in the distance. My eyes were blurred with tears.

All I could see was blood, too much blood.

“Liam.” His name escaped my lips.

“Sorry, I have to go first.”

More blood.

“Next time, let’s get married? “

…

Before I could respond I was in a new world, facing him once more. He was larger, more muscular, but too pale. Laying on a bed. Two small puncture wounds were visible on his neck.

“Liam… wake up.”

My hand, shaking, tried to check a pulse, hoping, praying to find it.

There was only the stillness of death.

…

World after world, flipping through too fast to remember. Finally, it stilled once more.

“Why do you always die, Liam?” I was crying once more.

He laughed a sad sound, but I couldn’t see him. His voice was above me. “That’s the fate of a villain, Bel. That’s the fate of a monster. I was never meant to be happy. I was only ever meant to be sacrificed for others’ happiness.” He faded away to nothing, and I was alone in the dark.

“Liam.”

*** YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE***

The blue words hung there, threateningly, and I backed away. The words followed, leaving me unable to run away even if I wanted to.

_____________________

“LIAM!”

I woke up in a cold sweat, struggling to sense what was real and what wasn’t. Breathing deeply, I pushed myself up, getting out of the bed, moving towards the center of our cave.

I wanted to find Liam.

I searched all the rooms, however, and he wasn’t there.

Panicking a bit, I walked out of the cave.

Thud.

Something small and white fell from the sky and landed at my feet. I looked closer. It appeared to be a white dove. Its neck broken. Blood pooled underneath it, almost staining my feet.

“What…?” Where did the dove come from, how had it survived in this realm? Why did it die?

As I watched on in horror, the blood moved and formed into words:

YOU MUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE,

I ran away. I was no longer sure if I was still trapped within the dream or if reality itself had gone insane. Nothing else mattered but my goal:

I needed to see Liam.

“Liam!” I called out again, seeing some traces along the ground and following the trail. I could hear movement up ahead, and Liam’s voice, talking seemingly to himself. The voice was familiar and not at the same time, spoken with a deep harsh tone.

“Okay, I just have to be calm, Bel said she doesn’t care what I am…. NO!… this is stupid, I should run away… but I can’t run away, that would mean leaving Bel behind… Maybe, I could take her with me? … YEAH! ... But wait... that defeats the purpose of running away to keep her from finding out what I am!”

I heard a loud growl and a thud. The sounds didn’t seem human. I slowed down, getting a glimpse of an enormous dark something beyond the trees in a large clearing ahead as his voice continued.

“Okay, just tell her the truth, and explain all the benefits… free heating source... free rides flying in the sky… umm… something else…  Come on, Liam! Think, think!”  

More crashes sounded out, and I hesitated to move into the clearing. What will I find?

I thought of my dream, of Liam in many forms dying in front of me. I thought of the bloody message scrawled out in front of the cave. I can’t back away now.

“Liam!” I called out, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “I’m here! Can I come into the clearing?”

I didn’t want to force him, especially hearing his anxious rants.

Liam let out a shriek, the sound mixed with a strange inhuman growl. “BEL?! Umm… so...you want to come into the clearing… I’m a little indisposed at the moment…”

“Liam.” My voice was soft now, but in the dead silence of the forest, I knew he could hear me. “I want to see you. I won’t run away.”

“…” The silence dragged on and on. Just as I was about to give up and walk away…

“You can come.” He sounded scared, resigned, but at the same time, determined.

“Are you sure…?”

“I’m sure.”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

Immediately I looked up, tilting my head back all the way upwards just to see his face. He was large, not quite as large as the ancient beast from previous the lower realm. If then he had been the size of a mountain, now he was the size of a three story house.

He was darker than the night sky above him, with shining scales interlocking in a tight armor.

Spikes rose up in a long row, bristling, protecting his back.

Large wings, with stretched leathery skin flapped nervously behind him.

A long winding  neck, leading upward.

Teeth, enormous and deadly, protruded from an elongated scaly jaw.

And looking straight at me, unblinking, were his eyes, the vertical slit pupil set within a wonderful, familiar dark blue. The face seemed unsuited for showing emotion, yet I could see everything he felt within the depths of his eyes.

Nervousness.

Excitement.

Caring.

It WAS Liam.

Liam was a dragon.

I hesitated for a moment, and in that silence, I saw the fear bloom brightly within his eyes. His head tucked in, hiding underneath his wings.

“Liam… you’re a dragon?” I phrased it as a question, but he could be nothing else. “Wow, that’s really cool!”

"Really?" Slowly, his eyes peeked out from his wings.  “You’re not just saying that?” It felt strange to hear Liam’s voice coming from this form, but it was the familiar sound that reassured me as well.

“Nope! I think you look very strong and awesome!” I reached out a hand and moved forward, Liam stuck out his head close, allowing me to touch the side of his face. The black shiny scales seemed softer to the touch than I had expected, the surface cool against my palm.

“You really don’t care? Even though I’m a monster?”

“I’d rather be in the company of a dragon like you than the kind of monster that Adonis is.” I shrugged. “I guess that says a lot about me.”

“Thank you, Bel.” His voice was filled with relief, and I couldn’t help but smile.  

I settled in, asking, “Have you always been a dragon? Or did you start out human?”

"Always." Liam crouched down, keeping his head low towards the ground so I didn’t have to bend my neck to see him. “This is what I am. I’ve been like this since I was old enough to remember anything.”

“Were you always here, in this realm?”

Liam let out an angry growl. “No. I came from a different realm. One where dragons and humans existed together. I was young… very young, when I was taken away. Dragons tend to be solitary creatures, but typically they protect their young until they reach adulthood.” He sighed. “My parents, however, died right after my birth, killed in a large battle with humans. After that, I was being raised by my grandfather. He was amazing! He taught me what it meant to be a dragon.”

“Your grandfather raised you?” Is he…” I trailed off, unable to finish the question.

“Dead.” Liam’s voice was flat. "The System came to collect me. My grandfather tried to stop it… he was destroyed, along with my entire realm.” Two golden tears dropped from the dragon’s eyes. “I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t save anyone.”

“The System?”

“I don’t know what it is. It appeared as bright blue words written across the sky when I saw it. It’s what makes the portals… what creates the missions we see in the lower realms. It controls seemingly everything but at the same time seems to be interested in nothing. I don’t know if it’s a god or the devil or something else entirely… but I watched its power as it destroyed my realm.”

Bright blue words? Shuddering, I thought of the counter that only I could see. Is that the system too? I reached out, trying to hug the enormous dragon head. “I’m sorry Liam.”

“It told me I was born to be the ultimate villain, and that all others would derive their fate from me.” He sighed. “It said that the classic story was that of a hero, a princess, and the monster that kidnaps the princess. My fate was to separate them, and then be destroyed to allow for a happy ending.” He looked down at me. “Then I woke up here, alone except the occasional creature that tries to survive… they never do, not for long. This world slowly destroys them. Of course, most nights, portals would open up and drag me in.”

“Liam…”

“You saw my mission last time. They’re all like that. Lose everything, get severely injured… die. Every single one of them. The story of the lower realms can’t be complete unless there is a satisfyingly bad end to the villain.”

“Did you always follow the mission?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Not at first. Especially when I was still very young, I struggled against it, tried to avoid it. I would run and hide and stay away. But then the lower realm would be destroyed, I would wake up here and the next world would open up shortly. Finally, I started to complete the mission as quickly as possible, so I could just go back home, and no one else would get hurt.”

I wished I couldn’t imagine it, but I could. I had been to countless lower realms with Adonis. How many of them had Liam been there, dying, getting hurt, just so that he could stop suffering and come back here? How many times has he chosen to die painfully, rather than let a lower realm be destroyed? I remembered him drinking the poison when we first met, his nonchalant expression at his upcoming demise.

“Bel, don’t cry.”

“I’m not…” My voice paused, as I reached up and felt tears running down my face. “I…”

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

“It’s NOT okay!”

“It’s my fate.”

“SCREW FATE!”

*** Soul transfer 73% complete. ***

I ignored the words, feeling slightly sick sight of the glowing blue letters. If this is the system, this… thing… kidnapped Liam and forced him into this never-ending hell. I can’t trust anything it says.

Liam laughed, his eyes happy. “Yeah, screw fate.”

I touched his face again. “I will protect you. I won’t let fate, or the System, or even Adonis win. We’ll find a way for me to stay here, and then find a way to avoid our fates AND save the lower realms.”

“…”

“What you don’t believe me?”

He blinked. “You still want to stay here?”

“Yeah… aren’t we getting married? Typically married people stay in the same realm of existence.”

“YOU STILL WANT TO MARRY ME?”

“Of course! Didn't I already ask you in the last lower realm? Out of the two people I’ve met in the higher realms, you are definitely the best husband material.”

“I’m a dragon.”

“And the other choice is Adonis.”

“… Fair.” He chuckled. “I believe you, but promise me:  if we do anything to go against fate… let’s do it together.”

“Deal. Now let’s head back.”

“First, you’ll need blood.” He raised a claw, and bit it, dripping golden drops into a small bowl. He then was covered in a black smoke, and a much smaller, much more human Liam emerged and picked up the bowl, walking towards me with a smile. “Here you go.”

“….”

“Bel?”

“…”

“Umm….”

I finally forced out. “LIAM, YOU ARE NAKED!”

“Shoot!” He shoved the bowl into my hands and grabbed pants that had been neatly folded nearby, his face bright red. “Sorry, I forgot.” He paused and looked down at himself. “Everything I have should be normal for a human, right?”

“Liam… It’s fine… yes, you’re normal.” I coughed as he grinned with relief. “There’s nothing wrong, I just… was surprised.” I turned away and drank my bowl of blood, waiting until the sounds of changing had stopped to turn back towards him. He took the bowl and wiped it clean, and then held out his hand for mine.

As we held hands, he laughed again. “Sorry, I forgot you get shocked when I get naked suddenly.”

“This is the first time this has happened, though?”

He paused at my words, his eyes confused. “No… it’s happened before. You were an elf…” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “I can’t remember clearly.”

“Maybe you were flashing some other person?” I raised an eyebrow.

“No, I’m certain it was you.” Was his firm answer.

“Okay, sure… so, Liam?”

“Yes?”

“I have a very important question.”

“What’s that?”

“Was it YOUR poop that I dropped on top of Adonis?”

“…”

“…”

“Liam?”

“OH LOOK AT THE TIME! Let’s go home!” And with that, Liam dragged me out of the clearing and back to our cave, with me laughing the entire way.

_____________________

When we arrived, we came across the dead dove once more. Liam stopped in his tracks, staring down at it silently.

“Actually, this was part of why I was looking for you in the first place. It just flew down out of nowhere, and killed itself here.” I stared at the words written in coagulated blood. “Who would do this?”

“The System.” He spit the words out like a curse.

“Why doves… I thought it spoke in blue glowing letters?”

Liam was still staring down at the dove, and for a moment, I could see the dragon he was behind his human appearing eyes. “Doves have meaning.”

“Meaning?”

“Often a messenger of the divine, or for all-powerful beings… they are also seen as a symbol of peace. So to have one come from the heavens and kill itself, for the message to be written in blood….

“It’s a declaration of war.” I shuddered. “It wants to force us to accept our fate. Me to go back to the Higher Realm and play heroine with Adonis… you…”

“To suffer and die in an endless sacrifice for the happy ending.”

I squeezed his hand. “Neither is going to happen.”

He didn’t look away from the bloody message. “I hope you’re right.”

____________________

Days passed.

Adonis, unfortunately, had not lied. Over time, Liam’s blood became less and less effective. I stayed in bed for most of the day, only able to do brief outings into the forest before having to rest once more. Liam grew increasingly frantic, increasing the dose and would have tried to drain himself dry if I hadn’t stopped him.

But I wasn’t the only one affected.

The edges of the realm were starting to fade into darkness. It took a while for us to realize, but when we came up to the nothingness, the emptiness where forest had once been, I was forced to confront the truth: I was dying. The realm was dying. I couldn’t stay.

But Liam couldn’t leave, except for the lower realms.  

The portals became much less frequent, but I went with him each time. We tried to find ways to fix the worlds that completed both our missions, I tried my best to protect Liam from getting hurt.

We did not see Adonis again. He seemed to be biding his time.

Or he was so mad at Operation: Poop Trap that he is spending some time away from us. Either way, not too sad about it.

Finally, one day came. I couldn’t get out of bed at all. Liam stayed by my side, feeding me meat and mixed vegetables he had cooked. His cooking skills were fantastic now, but my failing body could barely appreciate it. I tried my best to eat, anyways, hoping not to worry him.

“Tell me what to do, Bel.” He whispered, feeding me another bite with a roughly carved spoon. “I don’t want to send you back there… but I can’t watch you die.”

“What if I would rather die than go back?” I asked. “Would you knock me out and send me anyways?”

Liam hung his head. “No. I won’t force you. I know better than most what its like to live with no choices. I can't send you into the same existence. If you choose to die...” His eyes filled with tears. “I’ll choose to go with you.”

“No…”

“That’s MY choice, Bel.”

I sighed. “Well, let’s try to avoid that ending then.” I started coughing, unable to take another bite. Liam out away the food with a solemn expression.

“Do you have a plan?”

“I’ve fixed countless broken stories. I always have a plan.” I tried to grin, but was too tired to maintain it for long. “I just need to make it to the next lower realm.”

I thought of the glowing blue counter I could see, and the dark power that even now hovered around my fingertips.

Hopefully this works. Everything depends on finding the right type of lower realm. I don’t have much time left, so I really hope the next one will have what I need. For both of our sakes.

After the discussion we fell silent, but stayed side by side, enjoying being together. A deeply uncertain future faced us, but at least one thing was true:

We were facing it together.

_____________________

That night, a new portal opened up. Liam, carrying me, stepped up to the red-rimmed glowing opening.

"Are you sure you want to come?" He asked in a worried tone.

"I'm sure. Once we're inside, I'll try to find you as soon as I can."

"Focus on being safe, first."

I smiled, resting a pale hand against his face. "I'll find a way for us to escape fate, Liam. I promise. The key to it is in this realm." It has to be.

His arms tightened around me. "As long as we're together."

"Together." I agreed.

He stepped into the portal quickly. As always, we were separated immediately after crossing the portal and fell into darkness.

I woke up, confused, looking all around me.

I was in water. Fish swam all around me, sunlight filtering through the waves and bouncing around them. Coral littered the ground, seaweed waving nearby, an intricate underwater garden. It was beautiful. A paradise.

And that’s when I realized I was breathing underwater.

Hmm… that’s not normal. I looked down at my arms. They seemed human enough, my hair coiling around my body. At least I’m not a fish or a sea monster. I thought, looking at the rest of me.

Then I saw my tail.

Ah crap.

I was a mermaid.

[ringmybel]

summer smooth

swim & sing

languid & lazy

goddess girl whispers a symphony

no moonlight

her drunk diamond skin

i'd cry if i could

i love you like honey raw

[klayfruit]

i cant believe team reptile put candyman in. thr game

[me-is-confused]

Little something for the Ghosts:

Babysitting

Elias who, very desperate, asked the ghosts if anyone had time to look after the little boys, because his babysitter got sick or something, but he has to go somewhere, where the boys definitely can't come with, he'd pay them and he also would owe the person big. A little reluctantly Keegan agrees with Ajax to do it.

Now he's sitting in Elias's home, Ajax managed to get David tuckered out and got him to nap on the couch, but Logan ain't. And little 6year old Logan already taking a liking to Keegan (childish curiosity) just sitting infront of him nearly on his feet and staring. Keegan a bit unsettled turning to Ajax for help, he's the one being good with kids after all.

"What?" Ajax asks and Keegan just gesturing to Logan "what am i supposed to do with that, he's been doing that for the entiere time". "Aw, he seems to like you, Kee" Ajax chuckles "just entertain him, tell him a story or something, the LT talks enough about those twos interests you can come up with something" "right..." Keegan turns back to Logan, who is still just fully focused on his face "uh..." it takes him embarrassingly long to think of anything "well, i heard you like the ocean and that's in it, right? I might know a thing or two about that" which is not wrong, joing the marines had him look up what the ocean holds and ever since then he tried to keep up to date about new findings about it. Logan perks up at that and reaching up to him "erm...." "he wants to be picked up Kee" "oh, yeah, alright.." Keegan carefully picks the little boy up and sits him in his lap "this okay?" Logan nods, smiling, before going back to stare at him "oh right the ocean" with that Keegan starts to ramble on, just a couple of time being interrupted by little giggles from the kiddo, kinda losing himself in his talking, til the weight on his lap seems to grow heavier and another drops on his shoulder. There he realises that Logan had decided to nap, right there on his lap. That makes him stop dead in his tracks and turn to Ajax again, who tries to contain a reawakened David and mouths desperate "help" to him. Ajax tho can barely contain how adorable he finds that picture and whispers that Keegan should just leave him like this and wait it out till he done with David, before asking if he wants a book or something to kill the time, before taking the bundle of energy that is David out in the yard to run around and tire him out again, because it's getting late and the two need to go to bed soon. Keegan graciously takes a random book Alex pulls out of the Walker's shelfs and starts reading.

When David is finally back to being tired and ready for bed, Logan is still knocked out in Keegan's lap. Tho a different problem opens up, when Keegan tries to stand up with him, which gets him to stirr and go into a very disgruntled half asleep state, that for the second it happened, before Keegan sat back down also very much alarmed David. So, the both soldiers silently agreed to leave Logan and Keegan as is, before they have trouble getting the little ones into bed, as long as they are sleeping it's fine right? Doesn't matter where. So Keegan goes back to the book, thinking at somepoint the kid will wake up or be able to be carried to his bed, but apparently Logan thought differently, cause he doesn't wake up and always makes very unhappy noises Keegan only so much as attempts to stand up, so he is bound to the couch with a 6 year old.

Hours later when Elias comes back home, Keegan is still on the couch, with Logan, but also having fallen asleep, Alex is still up tho "keeping watch" as he said, but in all honesty he just couldn't keep his eyes away from the sweet sight of Keegan asleep with the kiddo in his arms. Elias is also infatuated with the sight, but more so he's impressed, because usually Logan is so uncertain of new people and woul never let someone new touch him, let alone be comfortable enough to sit in his lap or sleep near them. There's still a picture of this in Elias's possession.

Logan was the saddest little bean when Keegan had to leave the next day

[the-golden-comet]

My brand 😌☕️✨

[blood-mocha-latte]

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @ep6bastogne!!! i was your secret santa :)))

i got a little bit (read: very very very much) carried away with your insanely good prompts, and have written a three part fic for your gift, one part of which will be published today! you asked for modern baberoe angst, and i did my best to meet those standards ;)

read part two HERE :))

read it FULL FIC on ao3 here <3

i.  turn on the laugh track everyone knows you're a wreck you're never this quiet, your smile is cracking you just haven't found what you're looking for yet

4 December

He wakes up, heart trying to break through his ribs, and kicks out in a panic. It’s hot, and sweat seems to boil on his forehead as he finds the sheets under him, kicking out a second time, lungs rattling against his spine.

He manages to throw off the heavy comforter, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. He blinks blearily at the wall, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the icy hand that lands on his lower back.

“Where’d you go?” Eugene murmurs, voice sleep-thick and accent heavy, and Babe turns to look over his shoulder, breath still shaky. 

“Dream.” He says, by way of explanation. Gene’s hand, as freezing as it ever is, leaves his back and he almost misses it. “Just… the comforter.” He stares at the wall of Eugene's bedroom for half a heartbeat, blinks, and stands up. “‘M gonna walk around for a moment. D’you need anything?” Gene rolls onto his stomach, settling into the warm spot that Babe left behind. 

“I can get rid of the blankets, ‘f you want.” He says into Babe's pillow, already dropping off again, and Babe’s chest floods with equal parts warmth and near-embarrassment. “‘M plenty warm.” 

Contrary to his words, he burrows further into the bed. Babe can’t help but huff a laugh. It makes his chest hurt.

“Nah.” He says, and has to clear his throat at the roughness that settled there. “Nah, it’ll be good for me to move around. You need the sleep, anyways.”

Gene’s response is a small huff into the mattress. Babe hurts at the sight of him, and tugs the comforter down over his bare ankle before he leaves the bedroom.

He hasn’t been over at Gene’s a lot, since… everything, but he still remembers which floorboards to step on to avoid making noise. He still remembers where the coffee pot is, where to find the mugs and the cereal and the butter knives. 

He just needs the mug and the coffee pot, but he checks the cutlery drawer just to make sure he’s right about the knives.

(He is.)

Either Gene or one of his roommates had gotten the coffee ready the night before, so all Babe has to do is push the button on the machine and lean back against the kitchen island. He watches the glass pot and avoids thinking.

It’s been weeks, and the one thing Babe’s certain of is that the dreams are usually better, with Gene. Not as vivid. The main problem, it seems, is that Eugene is capable of freezing to death in the Sahara Desert and Babe doesn’t sleep with blankets. Not anymore.

To be fair, he doesn’t do a lot of things anymore.

The coffee machine beeps, and it blinks him back to the present. He grabs a mug from the cabinet — clearly Gene’s, from the words that proclaim it as a part of Beck’s Cajun Cafe, which Luz had gotten him last Christmas — and fills it so that it almost spills over the lip. 

He leans back against the island, afterwards, not wanting to sit down. He taps his fingertips against the ceramic of the mug. 

Last Christmas. Huh. He wonders what he’ll get Gene this Christmas, if he’ll get him anything at all.

He remembers enough to know which floorboards creak in an apartment he slept at one night out of twenty, but he’d forgotten how light of a sleeper that Ralph Spina tends to be.

“Hey,” Spina says, in question, and Babe just about has a heart attack, coffee splashing over the lip of his mug.

“Fuck.” Babe greets back, looking around for the paper towels. He finds them next to the stove, which. Seems unsafe. But hey, he ain’t a doctor. Spina shuffles over to the counter, dropping into one of the barstools. 

His hair is sticking up in all directions, beard scruffy. The bruises under his eyes are smudged purple, and his hoodie has a stain at the stretched out collar. He looks, Babe thinks, more like Crazy Joe McClosky than a paediatrician.

“You look like shit.” Spina offers, and Babe shrugs a shoulder, turning on his heel to grab another coffee mug. He glances at the clock on the microwave. Almost four in the morning.

“Yeah, well.” He says, pours a second mug for Spina. “Guess it’s the time of the year.” Spina grunts.

“Tell me about it.” He mutters, reaching out a hand as Babe shuffles back around the kitchen island, giving him the coffee. “Goddamn, I don’t even work ER.” Babe hums. It’s absent.

“I’ve never seen Gene so knocked out.” He says dryly, plopping down into the stool next to him. “I mean, I could still twitch and he’d wake up, but he’ll fall asleep afterwards. Which, progress.” Spina huffs, blows on his mug.

“You’re datin’ someone with more restless energy than a goddamn hamster.” He tells his coffee. Babe shrugs, takes a sip of his own.

“Yeah,” He says, “‘cept we’re not dating.” Spina blinks at him, but otherwise seems unbothered. He slouches in his stool.

“Shit, really?” He asks, and then seems to backtrack. “I mean, I knew you weren’t, like, going out last month, but I thought that since…” He trails off, shrugs with his coffee. It sloshes in its mug. Babe just shrugs.

He stares at the kitchen counter. November hadn’t counted, for… whatever him and Gene are. Have become. November isn’t a part of them. 

“Nah.” He says. “We’re just… stress relief, I guess.” Spina shoots him an unbelieving look over his coffee, but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Jesus,” He mutters, shifting in the barstool. “And here I was thinkin’ my life is complicated. You’re playing 4D chess in a twelve dimension world, my friend.” Babe snorts, braces his elbows against the counter. 

“It ain’t that bad, in all honesty.” He says, and his skin seems to burn. He shivers to throw off the sensation, tries to forget the comforter that’s now wrapped around Gene. “Just… hectic. But, hell. ‘Tis the motherfucking season.”

Spina grins at him, and it’s wry. “Yeah.” He agrees. “‘Least you don’t gotta worry too much about Gene, then. If you two are just friends. No Christmas obligations.” Babe huffs. When he brings his mug back to his lips, the coffee tastes like ash.

“Think he’s goin’ back down to Louisiana, anyways.” He says. “The week of. He’s been tryin’ to get time off.” Spina shrugs.

“Hope he does.” He says. 

“Yeah.” Babe says back. He doesn’t really, though. He doesn’t want to think about having to sleep in his own room again, where it’s cold and there’s no blankets and both of those things are his own fault, but there’s no Gene, either. Spina leans forward, trying to find the microwave clock around Babe, and huffs.

“Alright.” He says, smacking his palms flat against the counter and standing up. “Time for work.”

“Godspeed.” Babe says dryly. Spina snorts.

“‘Tis the season,” He repeats, downing the rest of his coffee and putting the mug in the sink. “Lots of little kid sniffles. Hell, maybe if I’m lucky, someone will come in with the flu.” 

Before Babe can reply, he turns on his heel, makes his way back to his bedroom. The floorboards creak under his feet, he either doesn’t know which ones not to step on or doesn’t care. Babe stares after him for a moment, thinking, before finishing off his own coffee and heading back to Gene’s room.

Eugene’s still asleep, when he gets there, wrapped in the sheets and comforter and whatever extra blankets he’d picked up along the way, face still buried in Babe’s pillow.

Well. It's Genes pillow. But Babe uses it.

He tugs the comforter back down over his ankle again when he passes Gene, as it’s ridden back up, and turns the corner of the mattress to find his jeans.

He’s just in boxers (which he thinks may be Eugene’s) and whatever white t-shirt that was on his floor yesterday morning, so he just does up the pants and finds his shoes. He thinks he’s being rather stealthy, but Gene still stirs in the bed, pushing up onto his elbows and squinting at Babe.

“Time?” He asks, voice croaky, and Babe just shrugs, waving his hand absently towards the door of the bedroom, out to where the kitchen is.

“‘Bout four.” He says, finding his shoes kicked haphazardly under the bed. “I’m gonna head off.”

Gene huffs, face dropping back down into his pillow. “‘Kay.” He tells it, voice muffled. “Good luck.”

Babe wrinkles his nose at him, confused, but the rumpled blankets that is Gene isn’t moving anymore, and Babe thinks he might have fallen back asleep. He shoves his feet back into the shoes, not bothering to untie the laces, makes sure his fly is closed, smoothes back his hair, and turns on his heel.

Before he leaves the room, he turns back one more time. For science. “See you later,” He says, and when Gene doesn’t move, tacks on, “fuckbuddy.”

Eugene groans. He hates it when Babe says that.

Babe laughs, opening and closing the door behind him. 

--

The thing about him and Gene is that he doesn’t really remember how it started. 

Not in the way one wakes up in the morning with whiskey stale on their breath and a nagging feeling of forgetting something. Not even in the way of doing something for so long that it becomes muscle memory.

If he had to guess, it would probably be because Babe doesn't want to look too hard at it. At them.

Maybe like how in a dream, one can't focus too much on a singular detail or they'll wake up. 

Maybe Babe doesn't want to think too hard about what they're doing because if he does, it might all fall apart. 

--

The Christmas season is marked in Philadelphia by a number of things, but one of Babe's favourites are the lights that wind around the metal staircase that lead down from Gene’s apartment, twinkling red and green and half of the bulbs burnt out. Snow dusts the street and the cars parked on it, another addition to the small reminders of dawning holidays. 

He runs his fingers across the wire of the lights as he skips down the icy steps, other hand in his pocket. When he exhales, his breath explodes across his face in white fractals, blown away by the wind. 

His own apartment is only four or five blocks down from Gene’s, and in the early hour his only adversary is the biting cold that stings across his cheeks and neck. He shoves both hands into his pockets when he makes it down the staircase, turning on his heel to the left.

He sleeps at Gene’s maybe once a week, now. Less frequently, in the past, but since…

Well, November doesn’t count.

He’d chosen the wrong type of shoes to walk in the greying, half frozen sludge that skims across the streets, and it soaks through the soles of his sneakers in no time at all. It makes him slip more against the pavement, little to no traction against the old brick.

Him and Eugene began to sleep together a little over a year ago; when Gene had started residency at the urgent care clinic in South Philly and Babe had been working at the auto repair shop since he’d graduated.

Gene still works at the urgent care clinic in South Philly, but Babe’s situation has become more… complicated.

As if on cue, a car horn honks — the first warning of someone trying to get to work, and Babe speeds up slightly in an attempt to avoid the majority of the incoming flood of traffic.

He likes sleeping over at Eugene’s, anyways. The sex is great — which is a given, looking at how long they’ve been doing this — but Babe just also… likes Gene’s place. Likes his creaky floorboards and coffee machine. Likes sleeping with Gene, who wakes up at the drop of a hat but falls back asleep just as easily.

And Gene must like him staying over, anyhow, because otherwise Babe would have woken up at his own apartment.

A Honda Civic speeds down the road, and Babe only barely manages to avoid the wave of slush from the gutter that it dredges up in an icy spray over the curb. He’d consider shouting at the car, but it’s already gone and his feet are fucking freezing. 

He makes it back to his own apartment in a little bit under half an hour, and trods up the undecorated staircase that leads up to his building with little excitement. His shoes squeak against the smoothed over cement that leads its way to their door.

It’s unlocked, and Babe thinks if one of them is gonna get murdered, that’ll probably be why.

“Hey.” He greets as he hits open their door, peeling off his soaking shoes and socks in the entryway. Bill is stretched out across the couch, foot dangling over the side of the armrest, and he raises a hand absently, eyes on the TV.

“Was startin’ to think you moved out while I was asleep.” He says, scratching absently at his chest. “You’ve been gone for so goddamn long.” Babe snorts.

It’s been less than a day since he left the apartment, and when he pads into the kitchen area, his empty cereal bowl is still in the sink. He huffs. “‘Love you too, Guarno.” He mutters, picking up the plastic tupperware and shoving it into the overflowing dishwasher. He pokes at it gingerly, trying to get it to start. It doesn’t, and he waves a hand at it, dismissive.

“How’s the Doc?” 

“Fine. Tired. Goddamn Christmas season, huh? Ice and cold and terrible people.” Bill sighs.

“You gotta stop spending time with Roe.” He says, shoving his palms under him and shoving up against the couch cushions. “He’s ruining your sense of whimsy.” Babe snorts.

“To be fair, we don’t do much talking.” He says, and Bill groans. “Where’s Toye?”

“Somewhere.” Bill says, vaguely, which is just Bill-talk for no fucking clue. “With Luz, probably. Why? I don’t think he’ll be easily regaled by your tales.” Babe wrinkles his nose.

“Regaled.” He repeats. “You gotta stop spending time on the documentary channel. It’s rotting your brain out of your head.”

“Awe, fuck you.” Bill says, good-natured. Babe just snorts another laugh and opens the fridge. It’s mostly just leftovers and a bottle of ketchup that Bill keeps watering down. “You… you have a good time?” 

Babe pulls out half a cheesesteak, wrapped in tinfoil and shoved in the fridge door. He peels back the foil just enough to smell it, suspicious. “Sure.” He says, not really listening. “How old is this?”

Bill grunts, reaching over the arm of the couch to grab his crutches. “Dunno.” He says. “When was the last time we saw Compton?”

Babe peels the foil back further. There’s mould growing on the edge of the bread, and he holds the sandwich up to eye level to squint at it. At least three months, then. He turns on his heel to find a plate and a knife.

He’s cutting the mould off of the cheesesteak with a butter knife when Bill says, words accompanied by the thud of his crutches against the cheap wood floors, “ya plannin’ on going back over there tomorrow?” Babe's hands still only slightly, and he goes back to sawing at the bread.

“Probably not.” He says. “Gene has a shift at three.” 

“So after that?”

“He don’t get off until three the next day.” Babe peels back the bread. The cheese looks fine, mostly. A little discoloured. Bill whistles.

“Damn.” He says, and Babe grunts. “You couldn’t date someone with a sensible schedule?”

“We’re not dating.” 

The meat looks mostly fine, too. Babe drops the knife in the sink with the clatter and pads back out of the kitchen, passing Bill on the way. He sits in the sofa chair next to the couch, a spring digs into his back. He sends a half-hearted prayer to Saint Nicholas that the cheesesteak won’t kill him and digs in. 

He can feel Bill’s eyes on him. “Yeah.” Bill says, from behind him. His crutches thunk against the floors. “I know, Babe.”

Babe grunts around the sandwich. He thinks that Bill might go back into his room, but he can’t tell. He can’t bring himself to care, anyways.

10 November

He can hear Lip shouting for him, and screams back as loud as he can. Then, when there’s no answer, he screams again. 

The metal is hot against his leg, fucking searing, and the rocker panel of the car keeps his arm and chest pinned under it. He swears, frantic, looking around. Everywhere around him is black, the same darkness, smelling of oil and grease and everything else. His breaths are coming in more and more shallow, every one punched out of his burning chest.

“Lip!” He screams again. His voice is hoarse, it hurts to yell. He hopes that Lip will find him before he can’t breathe at all. “Lip! I’m in here, I’m in here, I can’t fucking move—”

Lip shouts his name again, louder this time, and Babe reaches out frantically with the one arm he can move, grasping around, futile. His open palm comes into contact with the deflated tire of the Mustang, and he hits against it, frantic. 

The Mustang had crumpled suddenly, the back left lift stand giving out while Babe was trying to figure out what was wrong with the transfer case. The right one had buckled shortly after, and, in a panic, Babe had tried to kick off on the creeper, only effectively kicking it out from under him. 

The Mustang let out a great, trembling, shaking groan, and dropped down all at once, all around him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, his ribs hurt, he can feel his heart in his throat and in his toes at the same time. There’s something wet running down his face; he can’t tell if it’s oil or tears. 

He throws both hands out in front of him, like they can stop the four-thousand pounds of car that are about to collapse on top of him, like he can bring back the shitty LED lights that are supposed to be easily seen, like he can—

“Lipton—” He yells again. He can hear the metal across the bottom of the car creaking. “Lip! Bill? Someone fucking—”

He kicks out his legs at the same time the Mustang makes another loud, metallic, screeching, and a hand grabs onto his ankle and pulls, pulls—

He’s crying, and he’s well aware of it, and he still can’t fucking see anything, face streaked in grease and oils and tears and whatever else, and Lipton’s hands are on his shoulders, dragging him further away from the Mustang.

They drop, unceremoniously, a few yards away, and Babe blinks rapidly enough that he can start to see the lights again, eyes burning. He trembles, trying to push away from Lip, realises that there’s probably fuel and whatever else in his eyes, and Lip’s palm comes up and cuffs him carefully across the cheek, getting him to hold still. 

“S’alright.” Lip mutters, and his voice is hoarse. The hand not on Babe’s face is tight around his bicep, and Babe squeezes his eyes shut again, before they can begin to burn worse. “S’alright, boy. Everything’s alright.”

--

4 December

All of Babe’s blankets are in the corner of his room in a pile, and for a while, he even contemplated stripping off the fitted sheet and throwing that away, too. 

He wakes up facedown, in the middle of his mattress and slightly nauseous, and thinks about Gene wrapped up in the comforter, all black hair and bare feet. It comforts him, some.

He sits up on his elbows, slightly shaky, and scrubs a hand down his face. His face is clammy, his palm more so. He blames it on the cheesesteak.

The reason for his rousing becomes clear when he hears Toye, voice low and rough and unintelligible through his bedroom door, say something to Bill. He rolls over onto his back, grimacing when his knee twinges — it rarely does, anymore, but sometimes it acts up — and stares up at the ceiling.

He looks over to his side, turning his cheek into the fitted sheet of his bed, and reaches out to grip at his phone, dragging the screen closer to his face. Almost three in the afternoon.

He stares blearily at the home screen of his phone for half a second before dropping it again, pressing his hands flat against the mattress and pushing himself up off of the bed. 

Toye and Bill are arguing about something or the other in the front room, so Babe pulls his t-shirt over his head from the back collar and throws it absently over his dresser, searching for something cleaner.

He wonders if Gene is awake. Gene can sleep like the dead (and does, Babe would know), but he doubts that even something so beating and exhausting as ER’s in December would keep him down for that long. 

He wonders if he should text him, and decides against it.

They're only friends, after all. Not even best friends, at that, because Babe’s best friend is Bill and Gene’s is Renèe Lemaire. 

Friends. Casual friends. Casual friends don't text each other after napping all day in the middle of a mattress with only a fitted sheet and waking up both freezing and burning to death. 

Just friends.

He finds a Philly Eagles shirt crumpled up in the corner of his sock drawer and shrugs it on. It's stretched at the collar and faded to all hell, but it'll do and he pushes out of his room and back to the front room without much more preamble.

“Hey,” He greets Toye and Bill, when he does. They've ceased their shouting at each other for the moment, apparently putting aside their differences to face the common foe (the recliner, which tends to stick) and neither of them look up to greet him. 

Toye has his cast-ridden leg stretched out beside him, propped on the low-to-the-ground coffee table. Bill’s own knee brace is tossed on the couch; he's terrible about wearing it. Babe leaves them to it and wanders into the kitchen, absently scratching at the back of his leg.

The reason that it had taken so long for Lip to find him, Babe had learned afterwards, in the hospital with tear streaks cutting humiliating tracks through the oil on his face, is that a fire had started in the back room of the auto shop.

He opens the fridge. There’s nothing new, but Babe didn’t think there would be. It’s more out of habit than anything else, and he closes it just as quickly as he opened it.

“Could it be a screw?”

“Nah, nah, it ain’t no screw, Joe, ‘cause if it was a screw, it would be workin’, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, I don’t know, Bill, guess I left my fuckin’ brain with George—”

“Ah, Christ, and isn’t that a tragedy? Luz’ll drop it, for sure—”

Babe moves back out of the kitchen and moves to the front door, picking up his left shoe. It’s still wet and cold, but not soaking, so he cuts his losses and shoves it and the other on, leaving his socks on the floor.

He wonders, vaguely, if he should grab his coat before he leaves, and even spares a short glance at the heavy, quilted coat that hangs limply next to the door. But his skin still burns, and he forgoes it, opening the front door.

“Be back later!” He shouts over his shoulder, and the response is a nonsensical shout from Bill and a grunt from Toye. He snorts and closes the door behind him, shoving his hands back into his jeans pockets and skips back down the steps to the street.

The cold bites into his skin, and he regrets just wearing a t-shirt and jeans but doesn’t want to go back into the apartment, so he turns on his heel and begins walking left, exhaling hard through his nose.

He doesn't have a problem with their apartment, per se; having two roommates to Gene’s one can be frustrating, but Bill and Toye are two of his best friends. They're just… loud.

Besides, the one thing that he had realised after he'd gotten out of the hospital, with minimal scrapes and bruises to Skip Muck and Alex Penkala’s third degree burns; with occasional, stupid nightmares to Joe Toye’s leg, broken in eighteen places and Bill’s sprained knee, black and blue and swollen, is that their apartment is… crowded. Cluttered.

Like it's going to collapse on top of him.

He shivers and pretends it’s because of the cold, and after a block and a half, ends up in front of a corner shop that's signage proudly declares itself one of sole caterers of fresh catfish in Philly.

He stares at the sign for a moment, then at the glaring red OPEN marker, and pushes through the door.

--

6 December

“I just think you're sort of freaking out, is all.” Babe says, and picks up a glittery pink pen, curious. It has shiny, turquoise feathers at the end of it. From behind him, Joe Liebgott snorts and hits him lightly on the ass with the shopping cart. 

“I don't freak out.” He says, putting extra emphasis on the extra two words, which does nothing but further convince Babe that he is freaking out. “He’s just weird about this shit. I'd like to get him somethin’ nice.”

“Yeah, but Web doesn't give two shits about Christmas, Joe. I think it would just make him think you were dying, or something.” Liebgott waves Babe away absently, pushing the cart past him. 

The only reason that Babe had agreed (i.e. was forced by Bill) to go shopping with Liebgott was because he'd made the mortal mistake of getting up at a reasonable hour. Gene was at work, and Babe was hungry, and Bill’s leg hurt, and Liebgott hates shopping alone. 

So. Here he is.

“Just get him a book, or something.” Babe says, dodging the cart when Joe pushes it forward again. “Vonnegut?” Joe snorts.

“If you can find a book that Web doesn't have, I'll get it, but it would probably have to be in library of fucking Alexandria.” He says. “I'd be better off just writing something.”

Babe doesn't say anything, mostly because he's pretty sure that Web would love it if Joe wrote something. Instead, he crosses into another aisle and picks up a plastic snow globe, turning it over in his palm.

Over the crackling speakers, Mariah Carey is singing about something or the other. The artificial lighting in the store is making his head hurt. Babe feels… almost normal. 

“You could get him a watch,” He offers to Liebgott, nodding to the glass cases towards the back of the shop. Liebgott waves a hand dismissively, pushing the cart forwards again, leaning his elbows on the bar of it. 

“Does Web seem like someone that has any idea what time it is, ever?” He asks, and Babe shrugs, hands going back to his pockets. 

“Web doesn't seem like someone who would date you.” He says absently, and Liebgott looks like he's somewhere in between telling Babe to go fuck himself and agreeing with him. In the end, he just jerks the cart to hit Babe again.

“Christ,” He says, and looks like he's halfway to just giving up, which Babe would encourage. “You're not doin’ any better. You have any idea what you're getting the Doc?” 

Babe shrugs. He still thinks that whatever Liebgott could possibly get for Web would just unsettle him. They don't seem like the type of people to be all… filled with the Christmas spirit, and all.

“We're not dating,” He says, in reference to Gene. Liebgott turns to squint at him over his shoulder.

“I know.” He says. “I'm not stupid, Doc can do much better than a Philadelphian frog.” Before Babe can even open his mouth to protest, Liebgott moves on. “But, you know, he's been good to you. Through all the… the shit that happened last month. And he has to be a good fuck, seeing as it's been, what, a year?”

Babe absently wonders how much of a mess he has to be for Liebgott to know almost everything about him. Then he decides that Liebgott probably only knows because he knows everything Webster knows, and Webster knows everything that Hoobler knows, and Hoobler knows everyone. He decides to blame Bill anyways.

“What the hell would I even get him?” He asks under his breath, almost to himself, and Liebgott snorts a wry laugh. 

“Do I look like I know what I'm doing?” He retorts.

-- 

10 November

Babe hasn't left the goddamn hospital yet, and everything's starting to crush in on him again. 

He's sitting in the gift shop, face in his hands, elbows on his knees, and knows the owner of the ice-cold hand that brushes his wrist immediately. 

“Is anyone out of surgery yet?” He asks, voice hoarse, and Gene kneels down in front of him, pulling his hands away from his face. He looks almost haggard; the corners of his mouth pulled down, eyes near-sunken and dark. 

“Muck is in recovery,” He says, and his accent is thick with exhaustion. Babe can't be faring much better. “Penkala is still under, but he shouldn't be as bad as Skip. Not as many skin grafts, at least.”

Babe almost faceplants into his hands again, but Gene tightens his grip on his wrists. His eyes are dark, near piercing.

“Toye’s femur was bad enough that amputation was considered, but it's set now and looking better. Guarnere’s knee is looking like it’s just a bad sprain, so long as he stays off of it.” He says, and Babe tugs a hand away from Genes to scrub at his face.

“Anyone else?” Gene leans back on his heels, starts counting on his fingertips.

“Lip’s got a concussion, but it ain't bad. You'd think he'd caught grenade fragmentation, from the look on Speirs’ face when we told him. Perconte’s got a few second degrees, but they don't look too bad. Wynn’s the same. Everyone else is mostly doin’ fine.” Gene pauses, like he wants to say something else. “They’re worried about you, though.”

Babe huffs. He rubs at his eyes until black spots burst against them, then drops his hand back to his lap. “I'm fine.” He says, voice rough.

He's got a cut across his left brow, but it didn't need stitches. He sprained his ankle, when the rocker panel had first dropped, and had been coated in oil and fuel and grease until he'd managed to scrub down in one of the hospital showers, but he's fine. He's not hurt like the others are. He was just… stuck. Not even for ten whole minutes.

Gene looks at him like he doesn't believe him. “Edward,” He says carefully, the blue of his eyes so dark they're nearly black. “Lipton told me that you couldn't see—”

“I had fuel in my eyes.” Babe tells him, looking somewhere over Gene’s shoulder. “It— Lip helped me wash them out with a water bottle and they're okay now.”

Gene watches him. Not like he doesn't believe Babe; more like he's trying to solve Babe, like he's a puzzle. 

“I got off an hour and a half ago,” He says, and Babe almost winces.

“Sorry.” He mutters. Gene started working his new schedule only a week or two ago, Babe can't imagine working over twenty-five hours in a single shift.

“No.” Gene says vaguely, jerking his head over his shoulder. “I mean that I'm off. I'm gonna take you home.” 

Babe blinks. “Oh,” He says. “To your place?” The corner of Gene's mouth quirks up. It's not a happy gesture.

“No.” He says. “To your apartment. Guarnere and Toye are staying overnight. I can walk you home?” 

It's not phrased like a question, but Gene asks it like it's one. Babe blinks down at Gene’s fingers, which are still carefully wrapped around Babe’s wrist, and nods before he can catch himself. “Okay.” He says. “Alright. Take — take me home, okay?”

--

9 December

He knocks on the door of Gene's apartment, and prays in the frantic seven seconds before the door opens that Gene’s actually home.

But he is, and he swings the door open, and when Eugene sees him he blinks and steps back half a pace. 

“Hey.” He says. He looks good, because of course he does; it's Gene. He's barefoot, wearing a faded blue t-shirt and black sweatpants, the tip of his nose and the shells of his ears a bright red. It makes Babe's chest hurt, but that doesn't count for anything. Everything makes Babe’s chest hurt.

“Hi,” Babe says back, and awkwardly holds up the plastic bag in his left hand. It swings in the air, and Gene’s eyes land on it. 

(So blue they're almost black.)

“I brought stuff.” Babe tells him, and wonders if this was a bad idea. Probably. “Uh, food stuff. Seafood stock, roux, tomatoes, peppers, catfish—”

Gene blinks at him. “For courtbouillon.” He says, and Babe nods, relieved.

“Yeah.” He says. “I, uh. I think you talked about it one time, after we…” He gestures vaguely, and feels the back of his neck start to burn. “Uh. Anyways, I figured…”

He trails off a second time, and holds the bag up a little higher. “I googled the ingredients.” He mutters, scuffing the carpet outside of Gene’s apartment with his heel. “I don't know if it's like how your Ma makes it or whatever, but if you ain't able to go home…”

He clears his throat, and prays to God that his flush can be passed off as from the cold, like Gene’s is. He holds the bag out to Gene. “There.” He says.

Gene takes it, face indecipherable. He looks down at the bag, cradled in the crook of one of his arms, and huffs.

“When’d you even think of this?” He asks, and steps further into the apartment at the same time. Babe takes it hesitantly as his invitation inside, and shuts the door behind him.

“Was on a walk.” He said vaguely. “Saw a shop that sold fresh catfish, and remembered you saying something about catfish and soup, so. Yeah.” He clicks his tongue, awkward. His chest hurts.

Gene sets the bag down on their kitchen island, and turns back to Babe, eyes going to cross over his sternum, almost a defensive gesture. Babe clears his throat.

“I know that we're only…” He gestures at Gene, then himself, “but I figured — I dunno. Happy early Christmas, maybe? If you want me to leave—”

“Edward,” Gene interrupts him, a little bit louder than Gene usually is, and Babe looks up as the other crosses the small space between the door and the kitchen. He stops a few inches away, mouth opening slightly like he's trying to gather his words. “It's… this is great.” He smiles, a careful quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks. It — this means a lot, to me.”

Babe blinks at him. His chest still hurts. “Okay.” He murmurs. “Okay.” He says again, clearing his throat a second time. “Should I, uh—”

“Yeah.” Gene says, then tilts his head slightly, as if reading his thoughts. Babe sometimes worries that Gene can read thoughts. He hopes not. Him and Gene are just… just friends. “Yeah, stay.” 

As if to convince him not to leave (Babe doesn't want to, anyways), Gene leans forward and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Babe’s mouth before stepping away and moving backwards towards the kitchen. 

Babe blinks. He tries to remember if they've ever done that before. He doesn’t think so. 

He follows Gene to the kitchen.

[purplemoonabove]

Beautiful, an Angel Dust x Husker/Husk One-Shot

One chapter only

Wrote it as a writing prompt – “Beautiful”

Inspired by that romantic scene in Fresh Prince. When Philip was describing how beautiful Vivian (the first one) was, the two standing in front of a body mirror. Such a beautiful scene if you haven’t seen it yet!

Light uses of swearing/cursing

Husk’s POV

.

.

.

Beautiful.

It was the first word that popped in his mind.

He would deny it out loud in avoid embarrassment, but in his mind, the truth was loud and clear.

He looked beautiful — He is beautiful.

A part of him then thought of a funny: how a common drug name, used currently for an adult film stage name, can also be how it was done.

Angel.

Dust.

A blessing from an unknown substance that’d be an irritation but actually owned an effect upon physical contact. No allergies, no congestion, no skin damages. He wasn’t sure if the latter would be possible. Decades in the current life and appearance made human skin a shedded layer for a new type to grow and life with. Angel was no different, even with multiple arms and eyes and owning a venom that was rarely exposed through a bite.

It was, as if, an amplification to the actor.

Keeping him as beautiful as he may have been when alive in his new demonic form.

Could he even call him demonic? Is ‘demon’ even a good term to describe? Before it’d be an annoyance – a mask that hid the true spider man’s nature – but now was a new direction: being a proud loser like himself.

Just more beautiful, at that.

“Kitty~”

Even his voice was beautiful, the thought expressed before blinking a return to reality. The spider sat upon his stool by his multi-lit vanity table. His breath-taking, neon-colored heterochromia eyes gazed with curiosity and humor towards him.

He smirked, the golden tooth sticking out.

“Like what you see~?”

Such a skill in teasing and enticing someone to be in his temperate possession was an act Husk would always avoid – in the past. With a soft chuckle, he rose from sitting at the side of the bed to go over.

“Can you blame me?” He returned, not even denying him. Not this time, ever since the new change of relation.

Angel giggled then waved a spared hand. “Nah, I know I’m gorgeous.”

The smirk stayed as he resumed on his powder work at the cheek. Only to waver in further curiosity, his hand slowing to a stop as clawed hands laid and held in a gentle touch on his shoulders.

Golden eyes stared at the pink through the mirror’s reflection, connected as the winged cat lowered his head.

“You’re much more than that,” Husk purred in his ear. Reaction was immediate: the back straightened, his eyes widened, a hint of red came under the furred cheeks, and the powder puff laid correctly in the container without notice.

Fucking cute.

“I see a young man right before my very eyes, who made it impossible to compare. Sweet fluff of fresh snow, with a gazing of melted pink diamonds to form such hearts. Eyes so breathlessly hypnotic through emotions and appearance. Hands to hold more than expected, feeling the love and care in every grasp. And a smile… Oh, that beautiful smile that brings just a little bit of color into this red, dark world.”

“Fuck.”

Angel broke away, turning to hide but Husk can easily see behind the covering hand the growth of said smile and redness that became a line over his nose.

“Look how beautiful you are.”

Angel didn’t turn, wanting to lower his head to hide under the table.

“Husk–”

One hand released the shoulder to grab the closest cheek, carefully turning until the red and bashful spider made contact to his reflection again.

Husk smiled, and whispered his repeat.

“Look how beautiful you are.”

The request was short-lived when Angel’s eyes shut tight.

“Argh!”

It was the only warning before Husk felt slightly winded, then adjusted with a chuckle as the spider pressed his make-up face into his bare, fluffy torso. The four arms wrapped about him as they would when cuddling, only with a grip due to the embarrassment.

“I like grumpy Husk better!” Angel complained into his chest, muffling. “I’m not used to this shit! When did you get all ‘romantified’ or some shit?!”

Husk release a long laugh that vibrated his being. One clawed hand gentle raked through the massive hair, already washed and combed before.

“I think I’ve always had it when alive and all,” he confessed, then shrugged. “Guess there was no reason for me to do it again when dead… until now.”

The arms tightened. Husk smiled.

“Do you want me to stop?” He then asked, the raking at a pause for the answer.

“… No…”

The hand moved towards the chin, lifting Angel’s pouting and red face.

Such a precious gem you are. I’m so lucky.

“So beautiful.”

Angel scrunched up his nose, the red practically burning. “Husky!”

Future complaining was forgotten once Husk sealed their lips for a well-deserved kiss. Relaxation being instant, Angel’s top arms went to wrap around his neck while the bottom two stayed put, but loosened during. With Angel soon getting up, Husk got his own arms to wrap at the small waist, their bodies held close with no desire of letting go.

At a moment of oblivious time, their lips eventually pulled away, but allowed a brushing at contact.

There, Angel whispered with a content smile.

“Thank you, Husk.”

…

I can’t get enough of these two. Weeks of them and I can’t stop! 😍

[much-ado-about-whumping]

stumbled upon your deomas masterpost. I started with the (somewhat)happy end with rhys to ease into it, and I just wanted to say very well done, and that I love the detailed warnings in the story👌 💛 very much appreciated!

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you liked it. 💖 There's theoretically more to come, but I'm not sure when that will be - Déma lives in my head rent-free but doesn't always show up when invited. :p

Glad you found the warnings helpful, too! If you're in the market for other stuff in a similar vein, here's where to find some of my other whumpees: https://much-ado-about-whumping.tumblr.com/reblogging-this-now-for-that-one-anon-whos-trying/bcz99ke15fdt

Edit: lol jk, it's https://much-ado-about-whumping.tumblr.com/post/686922189722812416/reblogging-this-now-for-that-one-anon-whos-trying

And thanks again for the kind words - nothing cheers me like head-pats. ☺️

[laundrybiscuits]

(wait for the season to come back to me tag)

Eddie doesn’t want to tell the kids yet. Steve kind of understands, but he also knows Dustin’s never going to forgive him for holding out like this. He cancels his biweekly lunch with Dustin twice before sitting Eddie down and saying, “We gotta tell him something.”

“Fuck off,” says Eddie.

“He’s twenty-five years old. He can handle it.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What the hell are you worried about, then?” Steve snaps. “I can’t keep lying to him, man! It’s not fucking fair! Just because you—”

“Steve,” says Robin. “Come on. Cool your jets, hotshot.”

Steve realizes he’s been kind of yelling, then. He also realizes that he’s standing over Eddie, who’s folded into a defensive crouch, and Eddie’s nails are in serious danger of ripping the couch cushions open. Eddie doesn’t look scared, exactly, but his face has gone inhumanly still and blank. It’d probably be worrying if there was any space in Steve for worry.

The anger’s still roaring full-tilt through Steve, though. He gets like this sometimes for no goddamn reason at all, and he knows it’ll pass in a minute, but right now the urge to break something is so, so strong.

“Fuck,” he snarls, and wheels around, storming into the kitchen.

He runs the tap just so there’s some noise as he tries to get his shit under control. Robin comes in after a little while.

“I’m—going to the gym,” Steve says, still gripping the sink hard.

“Okay,” says Robin. “Be safe.”

———

When he comes back, Eddie’s not in the living room.

“I told him he could hang out in my room for a while,” Robin says, before Steve can work himself up into a panic. “I think it would be good for him to have, like…his own private space. Not—I’m not talking about kicking him out, obviously. But maybe we could figure out a partition or something in the living room?”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea,” says Steve. “God. I’m so sorry. He knows I’m sorry, right?”

Robin flicks him on the forehead. “Yeah, he gets it, dingus. I think he called you an ambulatory fountain of penitence once. Like, a perpetual apology machine.”

“Sure,” says Steve. “Got a lot to apologize for.”

“Nope, we’re not doing that,” says Robin, patting him gingerly on the shoulder. “I’d hug you but you’re all gross and sweaty. Go shower, you’ll feel like a person again.”

He does feel like a person again after a shower, but the Dustin question still hasn’t been figured out. He tries to bring it up again after a few days.

“I wouldn’t even have told you guys I was back if you hadn’t kidnapped me,” says Eddie, picking at his dinner. Vegan stuff is usually okay, weirdly enough, so Steve’s been learning to cook with tofu. He’s not sure if Eddie actually gets anything out of it on a nutritional level; he hasn’t asked.

“Yeah, I know,” says Steve. He’s trying pretty hard not to get mad again. It keeps him up sometimes, thinking about how easily Eddie could’ve wandered into a different bar that night. He hopes that they would’ve crossed paths sometime anyway, being in the same city and all, but maybe not. He just doesn’t know.

“So you get it, right?” says Eddie. “Why I don’t want to put that on the kids. They’ve all, like…processed it and everything. They’ve moved on, just like you did before I came back and fucked up your life again. And you didn’t even really know me.”

It’s not like he’s saying it in a mean way, but it’s deliberate. He’s watching Steve carefully to see how it lands. Steve takes a deep breath; he can do this right, this time.

“Eddie,” he says. “You know I’m glad you’re back, right? You’re not fucking up my life, I’m happy you’re here.”

“You seem a little stressed for a guy who’s supposed to be happy.” Eddie leans back and smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. “Just seems sometimes like maybe it would’ve been better for you if I’d stayed, like, a story from your past.”

“No,” says Steve. “No. No. Never. It—might’ve been less complicated, maybe. But not better.”

Eddie looks down at his plate, silently fiddling with the golden-brown chunks of fried soy protein, and Steve realizes it might not just be about how the kids will react.

“Hey. You know it’s going to be fine, right? Dustin loves you. He wants you in his life, whatever that means, and you know he’s not gonna do anything to make you uncomfortable. Plus, he lives like one town away and has his own car, so if I keep putting him off like this he’s just gonna show up here one day and then we’ll really be screwed.”

It’s kind of a joke but it’s also really, really true. Eddie laughs, some of the tension finally dropping out of his shoulders, and says: “Okay. You’ve worn me down, Harrington. Alert the brat pack.”

[boabel]

TUABOSAS chapter one out nowww!!!

[rubensmuse]

DA2 comps used to encourage each other to kill themselves

[nicastamatis]

society if the companion romances in datv were neve/davrin & taash/bellara

[jomiddlemarch]

freddy lyon and bel rowley for the five lines of fic! or... if you are feeling like a rarepair, bel and lix...

“Well, it’s over,” Freddie said. 

Declared really, as he was wont to do, lifting his chin, almost tossing his head coquettishly. A great bloody diva Freddie was or could be and what did it say about her that she longed for him all the more because of it?

“It’s more complicated than that—and what does that get us, surrendering to the narrative that we didn’t write?” Bel replied, rather pleased with herself, truth be told, for the way she’d put it and the way Freddie’s dark eyes brightened as he listened.

“We’ll never surrender then and if there’s a ship in this metaphor, we’ll go down with her or find a way to sail somewhere no one expected we could ever find,” he said.