#but now the pipe is broken and has basically been replaced by his dead body that won’t go away

[transkingcobra]

Aradin came into camp and broke the hookah pipe, that bitch

[moonlightwritesdisney]

DREAM COME TRUE. -- WYATT LYKENSEN.

Paring: Wyatt Lykensen X FEMALE! READER

Requested: Yes / No

Warnings: foul language. nudity. graphic descriptions of blood and cannibalism. sexual activity. 

Summary: Weeks after your old elementary friend had finally vanished from all existence everything seems to finally go back to normal. Standing in a coffee shop you met him. And all hell breaks loose.

SEQUEL TO ‘YOU’.

PREVIOUSLY . . .

You were fashioned in the bathroom taking a warm cloth and bringing it towards your face wiping off the dried blood. You sucked in a breathe the sound of your beating heart filling your ears. You didn’t feel at all ashamed for what you had done. That bastard human deserved it.

The overbearing of your anxiety flared, you were worried you might get in huge trouble, since unfortunately, the human is never to blame. You had gone to bed that night in hopes for a better day the next morning -- the only problem was, he saw everything. 

THE DIRT BELOW HIS BROWN BOOTS became sore while he had previously been peering into your small window for the past five minutes watching you. Your brown pale skin covered in the blood that wasn’t your own. Your face dry and lips cracked from the crying you had done, you felt numb. Your heat besting rapidly in anxiety.

The mirror reflected your bruised image. The bags under your eyes were a dark purple, your eyes a dark brown with widened pupils ( a side effect of a broken Z-band which usually wears off after twelve hours ). Your sink water turned a bright pink as the last of his blood washed down the drain. Disappearing into the drain pipes.

Your mascara smeared down your cheeks, your nose and cheeks red and your eyes puffy. ‘Your going to kill him’. A selfish voice spat in his head, his sharp claws dug into the untouched flesh of his tan palm. He was furious.

How could someone so shameful have the power of destroying someone who was so innocent? She was a ray of pure sunshine. His sunshine. The pondering question he already knew the answer to racked the Alpha wolf’s brain. He couldn’t understand it.

You were so innocent. Baby like. His baby. He felt guilt.

A page pant of sadness washed over him. He had wished it was him, who could comfort you from what had just happened. ‘Shh baby it’s okay I’m here now, your safe, completely safe, I won’t let anyone ever harm you again, ever, never again. I am so sorry.

So sorry. So sorry.’ He had imagined you sobbing desperately in his chest the ache of your body he felt against his own skin, he’d stroke your arm softly and whisper sweet nothing in your ear.

He’d reassure you constantly, be their for you when having to deal with the gained trauma even after the act. He’d give you anything you needed. Leave you loving encouraging notes in your belongings. Hold you every night as you slept. Lock every door and window in the house.

He’d lay bare with you in bed for hours just to make sure his babygirl was okay. Although he couldn’t help blame himself. He knew that he couldn’t just burst into your house and save you from your attacker, even after the matter.

‘oh uhm yeah, I’ve totally been watching you for months, that includes changing, and showering, and well... pleasing yourself too.

I’ve seen it all, and uhm I’m kinda in love with you too so I mean that’s a plus, uhm I know literally everything about you, how you are very persistent in organization and you hate cheesy romantic comedies.

How you’d just want to stay up until three a.m. reading a book about truce crime. How you can girl over the most underrated music artists and how you hate a guy that plays dumb in the most basic way. I know you absolutely hate roses anything I’m missing?’

He chuckled at the image of you stunned. He knew more about you than you knew yourself. How you’d jump into his arms, the feeling of your skin against his. Your soft lips brushing against his neck. He’d want it all.

That would immensely creep you out. His intention would to never make you uncomfortable. So the pain only grew worse. Not being able to call you by your name. Hold you. Take in the surreal beauty that was Y/N.

His white fangs pressed against his bottom teeth. His blood boiled to the brim. He wanted to make that disgusting human pay for what he did. His stomach twirled in mixed emotion.

He so badly wanted to hold you in his chest and comfort you, but some things have complicated consequences.

In the low midst of the night he kept a sharp eye on the human who groggily made his way down the deserted dirt road, stalking the weak being beneath the depths of the dark forest.

Small boots could be heard from miles stretched along the black canvas of the open air, the human male scanning his surroundings for some place to rest or.. a possible shortcut that could lead him home.

Wyatt licked his dry lips breathing out slowly watching the human stand in the clearing with curiosity. ‘Kill him’. ‘He deserves to suffer for what he did’. ‘Y/N’. ‘Think of Y/N’. ‘Gut him’.

The imploding thoughts trying to take control of him. His pupils shrunk and turned a bright yellow his fangs grew from the K-9’s in his mouth. He breathed heavily and beast like trying to regain his composure. Sure, he thought of you.

How you would’ve told him ‘this is dangerous and could get you caught by wolf patrol don’t’. But, the monster side of her would’ve agreed with him. Could’ve given into the impulses.

Could’ve joined in on the eccentric thrill of gutting a human to their bones watching as blood came spitting out of their body, falling limp to the ground and squirming like a dead rabbit, until their last breath leaves the closure of their lungs.

But he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard and shoved the impulsive thoughts aside. He caught attention of the human stepping through the clearing, Wyatt swiftly disappeared behind a tree. (Thank his wolf stealth.)

He watching closely behind the large oak as the midnight sky lit up with thousands of glowing stars the bright moon floating still. His feet crunched under the small wood chips and loose dirt, which made Wyatt’s right ear twitch occasionally. 

The human was lost, he had reached up to a large clearing in the middle of the forest ‘maybe this will be a quicker way home’. He thought to himself as he squeezed his way through the thick pine trees that scratched his face and dark leather. Little did he know he wouldn’t be going home.

An owl called in the distance alarming the human. Shrugging it off he walked a few more feet bonfire stopping in the middle of the clearing an eerie feeling began to set it and shake throughout his body. Wyatt quickly ran behind the large oak tree causing the bushes to rustle.

The human quickly threw his head around to the source of the sound, Wyatt felt his heart pace quickly , quicker as each second passed.

The moonstone laid on Wyatt’s chest grew a bright blue his sharp K-9s’ growing to a slick point and his eyes glowing a bright deeming yellow.

A low growl erupted from his stomach the animalistic nature taking grasp of his human side. The human caught sight of a dark shadow peeking out from behind the tree. He bolted the other direction.

His breathing paced as his nimble legs carried him the south west end of the dark dreary forest. Mud crushed under his boots his lungs burning and heaving out of exhaustion. Wyatt was faster. He dodged past trees and bushes running at almost fifty miles.

His leg got caught on a sharp tree ranch nearby he knew that whatever was out to kill him was going to make it quick. He was scared. He pulled with force which caused the branch to cut into the soft flesh of his leg, blood seeped through the blue denim and into Wyatt’s nostrils.

Jumping over large rocks and the bushes he caught up to the human quickly grabbing him by his jacket he pushed to human to the ground and used the force of his arms to hold him in a pin.

The human breathed heavily his eyes widened in fear “please .... don’t hurt me”. He spoke weak like it was an excuse to let him go. Wyatt’s eyes glowed his lips formed a deep snarl.

“Let you go? And what, you continue raping other innocent women”. He whispered a deeply distorted voice replacing Wyatt’s usual calm manner. The monster had completely taken over. The human whimpered and squirmed like a dead animal.

A scream left the human’s mouth and soared above the trees as Wyatt bite deeply into the salty flesh. The blood was warm a large chunk of his skin hung off of Wyatt’s mouth before he spit it out discarding it.

The human grunted and moaned in pain shooting out lines of foul words. Wyatt smirked as he straddled the humans hips in place allowing him to not move.

In panic the human began to wail his arms, the young wolf felt his heart erupt in his chest. The watched as the human wailed in half death, he felt evincible.

The blood squirted and poured out of the human’s uncared wound. The blood tasted sweet in his mouth, a true delicacy.

About fifteen minutes after he threw the discarded bones into a six feet deep ditch he had dug after killing the human.

His mouth, arms, and clothes all drenched in the human’s bodily fluids and chunks of his flesh on his chest.

He smelt foul. He knew he did. He wanted to make sure you were okay but couldn’t come to you smelling like this.

He had walked the path he knew like the back of his hand spotting the small watering hole, he stood at the shore of the small lake the moon glowing brightly over him.

Taking off his fur coat he stripped himself of his purple hoodie before slowly bringing up his white tank top over his head revealing his broad v line, toned abs and chest stained with blood.

Unclasping his jeans he slide them down towards his knees kicking off his boots and white socks. Then came his boxers.

He engulfed himself in the lake slowly, it was freezing cold but was used to it. The water has risen up to the middle of his waist, he began to vigorously rub off the dried blood splashing cold water in his face and arms.

Dipping himself under the cold lake he rushed up and breathed out coughing. Moving his wet hair out of his face he caught sight of a dark shadowed figure that stood at the shore. He could’ve sworn it was you. Your pale skin glimmered beautifully under the moonlight.

He didn’t move a muscle, yet he waited to see what your next intention was. A robe you were wearing slowly feel to the ground as you now stood naked your gaze kept on his, you slowly entered the water.

Your figure made your way through the cold water, his eyes never leaving yours he was absolutely stunned. This had to be surreal.

Your hips moved in the water causing ripples to shift outwards, your brown eyes fluttered innocently. He stood in front of you awestricken, you were gorgeous.

He was scared that maybe if he had made one wrong move you’d leave, so there he stood motionless waiting for you to respond.

You were now in front of him, your naked glory he kept his eyes on you out of full curiosity. Your face inches away from his you guided his hands towards your side his warm arms wrapped securely around your waist.

The tension was lingering, his heart was pacing at an irregular pace questions swirling around in his mind but nonetheless, he wouldn’t change a thing.

The two of your lips met in pure bliss, moving in synchronization your fingernails traveling up the back of his neck and into his soft curls his hands gripping your hips lightly not wanting to hurt you without permission.

His lips trailed from your jaw and to your neck where he softly bite and sucked gaining small moans from you in response.

Heavy breathing and moans began to fall from your lips as he held you in his arms his nails digging into the sides of your hips causing you to squirm, the fingers of his right hand gently sliding over your folds.

Unfortunately for Wyatt, he awoke in a panic, his head was spinning and he was covered in blood. His brown eyes scanned his surroundings, the green trees a dim green and the woods ground wet and sloshy from the rain the night before.

It was a dream.

Fuck. It was a dream.

Shivers shot down his spine and throughout his body as he remembered the horny dream he had. God he wished it where real. He observed his clothing. He was drenched in blood. His whole body.

He pondered to himself in confusion then it clicked. After killing the human he had retreated back to the clearing and fell asleep after ... Waking up he knew aside from the perks of his wolf powers one downside was that wolves couldn’t remember events that happen after they detach from their human form.

He licked his chapped numb lips while his ears perked up, sirens could be heard from miles away, holy shit. The police had found his body. Quickly, he stood up and ran left towards large similar oaks trees, lucky for him he knew the woods so it was easy for him. 

Suddenly while his head was turned behind him making sure he wasn’t seen he quickly looked forward and collided with anther body a loud grunt slipped passed his lips as he fell on the hard soil, groaning. 

[the-mercurial-star-o-vesper]

NSR HCs

And we don’t mean their Human Resources

To be fair, this is gonna be mostly 1010 stuffs with some things here and there. Can’t help it, I am drawn to robots (... and I draw robots).

I’mma restate things from other posts (I’m a -hah hah- broken record), and add some new things too.

Here we go!

1010 is the local Super Hero squad. Hear me out. They got blasters, they got megaslams, they can Fly, they even have a Robot Factory that can replace bodies if they get destroyed (Which really isn’t something you’d have-- I know that bands can get injured by their fans, but if a Vinyl City fancrowd can destroy military grade robots, then DK West would’ve been gone loooong before BBJ)... [Then again, BBJ’s fans pretty much rioted out of control, and even had fortress map style canons; maybe revolutions and riots happen more often than we think. There’s DK West’s side story after all] Anyway. They’re armed to the teeth, synch’d to the max, and pose like its the god damn Power Rangers. These dudes are prepared for a Kaiju attack and Powerpuff Girl style throwdowns.

1010 isn’t based on Neon J’s past (probably)... ... But based on his coworkers. Consider. We know White (Rin) apparently has Neon J’s old face. So he’d be the Neon J. You’d think, with this case, Blue (Purlhew) would take after DJ Subatomic Supernova (DJSS). But Purlhew resembles the Sixth Megastar more than DJ Subatomic (Consider the connection the two have to either smoke or air waves; and the fact that they both have glasses and have this air of mystery) Red (Zimelu) likely takes after Yinu’s Mother, the Dubstep artist of NSR. Consider his aggressive style (Nearly all of 1010′s excess attacks are Red, and Zimelu’s bullets are the only other one’s that can be deflected). Plus his Saws. They’re circular Saws, which are more often used in Woodwork. Yellow (Haym) would take after Eve. Their the similar hairstyle (Both have forelocks that cover an eye; and if you wet Haym’s hair, its basically Eve’s). Though having a poet’s name may make Haym more Yinu-style classic, plenty of the Fever Dream District is named after classical musicians or even sufficiently clever scientists. Green (Eloni)... raps apparently. And he’s green, and boy oh boy, who do we know that’s Green and Raps? DK West. Sounds like Neon J was around during DK West’s little uproar. However, Eloni also has traits off of SAYU (look at the eyebrows and the cowlick), and the curly hair is reminiscent of Yinu. Perhaps Eloni had an older design? ... All this leaves room for having potential bots that take after DJSS or Tatiana. Or very possibly, Bunk Bed Junction.

ADDENDUM: Why Eloni has no fans. Cos he’s green, he raps, and the Vinyl City Crowd set fire to the car of the last green rapper’s car (DK West). I imagine quite a few folk would beeeee-- turned off by this, historically.

Excessive Partying in Metro District Sounds like someone is trying to get away from something and fast. Careful about the hangover.

Its call the Metro District Well, Metro is short for Metropolitian, so it could be the main city part of Vinyl City. Aaaand Its short for the Subway. So considering we fight 1010 on a Highway (Literally, the cars levitate). Perhaps it has a train?

Vinyl City has Levels Consider it when you walk around. There are lower Levels, Higher Levels, and even a literal Highway in the sky (FLYING. CARS). This place is leveled out like Taris on Knights of the Old Republic. Parts of the “upper” level districts (The levels you move) apparently are literally moved around so much, folks aren’t even shocked anymore. NSR Tower’s stunt in the end isn’t that implausible. The entire game foreshadows that there’s something else up with Vinyl City. The place even has Robots, Cyborgs, and quasi-supernatural stuff.

Conditions of Vinyl City are worse than they appear. Let me list why the Blackouts are bad. - Food spoils. They’re on a island nation with rice fields. That means heat and humidity, and that means Food spoils a lot faster. This taxes local markets, and as its an island nation (meaning trade is expensive), Starvation likely was a regular problem prior to NSR (And may even still have issues then). - No Heat. In the dead of winter, Hypothermia doesn’t need days, it just takes a couple hours. (I should know, I was in that blizzard that overtook Texas US). - No Water. No Power means no Water for areas, because it takes power to push water. It also takes power to heat water; so if you didn’t lose your Water, you at least lost your Hot Water. - No Power to Water, means Sewer lines Back Up. Bad Juju, all around. - Damaged Equipment. One of the biggest problems for electronics for blackouts and brownouts is Damage. The resulting blow outs or noise can and will damage lights, wires, electronics, computers, the works. That’s one reason why you see flickering electronics in-game, post blackout. They aren’t just lacking power, they’re damaged from the Blackouts. Now for the worse bits. Once you’ve reached Metro District, you find out that the pipes you occasionally see drain water from underneath the city. Meaning that Vinyl City both has Blackouts and regular Flooding Problems (Probably why the City has Star Wars style Levels). If there’s no Power, then the drainage stops and the flooding happens. - It wouldn’t shock me if the Vinyl City Navy has local emergency services when storms come. While Tatiana does bring up some of BBJ’s shortsightedness in their revolution, she ultimately was and is in the wrong. Both the atrocious judgement skills of the Lights Out Auction; and the fact that the Blackouts have far reaching consequences; one of which is that People Die without power. Admittedly, Vinyl City’s history of blackouts probably means that the local populace can survive without power and may even have local backups if the Megastars are preoccupied. I doubt there’s as much death or devastation here than say, a primarily arid nation state in the midst of a freak blizzard. And anyone hooked to a Hospital or other Emergency Powergrids may just lose water and nothing else. So the heavy handedness against NSR and Tatiana is harsh, but I count the worse case scenarios because Worse Case scenarios don’t need days to happen, they takes a few minutes before fuck everything falls apart. ... Take the fact that the Satellite was taken down in seconds, and in those mere seconds, it became completely irretrievable and the situation nearly unfixable. I’d like to think that Tatiana was aware about just how unfixable things can get (Which is one reason why backup power goes to the Megastars; the concerts can and will bring things back online) [There’s even a faint implication that if the Megastars do stop their concerts that the city goes out. Consider who all was at the Lights Out audition, then consider the fact that if they’re judging lights out, then they’re not making concerts, and if they’re not making concerts, they’re not powering the City. No wonder all the Megastars have problems if they’re under that kind of stress]

[bird-in-a-cage]

Okay so, dystopian au time. Heavily inspired by a certain band with a certain 2010 album that means everything to me. Let’s go!

So its 20XX, the world has gone to shit after a huge nuclear war and bio plague that has stripped humanity back to its more basic forms. Most nations are split into two sections. The City and the Wastes. Within the City walls are the most futuristic things imaginable; high glass buildings, everything covered in bright screens constantly flashing advertisements and messages from the people in charge. The sky is just a dome that displays a perfect summer day or clear star filled night. The streets are patrolled endlessly like clockwork to keep people in line, make sure no one has slipped through from the Wastes. Everything looks picture perfect at all times. People smile and wave at each other, there’s music but it’s little more than just lofi, food that all tastes the same, art that’s carefully curated to not be inspiring.

Everyone who lives in the City is essentially a drone. Everyone is drugged to no longer feel anything but merely calm. There’s no anger or sadness or joy or pain. It’s just all on the same one level.

Of course the people, the family, in charge is different. They can access pure happiness in a pill taking instant effect. Anything you can feel has been distilled down into a single capsule. The son, that isn’t labelled as a prince but may as well be, has been brought up with none of those things. Bred to be a perfect example of modern living.

Steve has never felt a single thing in his life.

Now, on the outside in the Wastes, are the undesirables. Those with personalities not fit to live in the Cities, so were left to die in the endless deserts and mild nuclear fallout. Those who didn’t just eventually die grew together, created towns based around gas stations and random buildings that didn’t crumble to nothing. They’re outlaws and love it! Free to feel and think and just be human. Life is rougher sure, there’s barely enough food and water needs to be caught from acid rain and distilled and decontaminated into plastic jugs, but it’s actually living.

Billy’s heritage kept him out of the City, not that he’d care to even be in there. He’s got his car and is part of a gang; The Banshees. Decked out in leather and chains, tattoos and piercings and as loud as can be. Travelling from dust bowl to dust bowl doing odd jobs, deliveries, racing rivals gangs who think they’re the shit to only be proved otherwise by Billy’s beast of a car. His absolute pride and joy. The camaro body with no roof, a rumbling V12 under the hood and of course skulls and flames painted all down the side, weaved around exhaust pipes. Nicknamed Gravedigger because foes may as well die than think he can be beaten in a race. Billy isn’t the leader of the gang, but that’s okay. It looks like far too much work and not nearly enough fun. Why plan a raid when you can drive to the dunes and rave until morning? 

So how do these two meet? Simple. Steve is stolen from the City in a daring midnight raid. An idea cooked up over too much homemade hooch in the gang’s gas station base. Getting into the City isn’t all that hard, Billy does it all the time for supplies and tools, more modern engine parts to keep his baby purring, so he leads the way. Guiding the Banshees through the checkerboard streets. With enough noise to wake the dead Steve is grabbed from the streets and driven away in a wild chase. He doesn’t understand what’s happening but his eerie calmness is more than enough to put Billy on edge, who is in charge of keeping the little prince safe for the time being. Until ransom demands are met to free the people of the City, let them feel real things again, and get more supplies out to the Wastes to those that are dying. No one is expecting it to be quick.

Billy is put in charge of detoxing Steve, keeping him inside and opening his eyes to the real world and not the lies he’s been taught since birth. It’s tough. How do you teach someone how to feel happiness? That the bubbling in his gut is nerves and not just indigestion? That tears don’t mean his eyes are broken and need to be replaced with newer models?

For a long while Billy hates this overgrown baby; who’s had every privilege the world can offer thrown at his delicate feet, who doesn’t eat or drink anything for days because it isn’t vacuum sealed, who just stares at the wall but frequently tries to escape back to the familiar bright lights in the far distance once the detoxing starts to kick in and he realises what’s actually happening. After a while Billy finds out Steve actually has a personality; a dry sense of humor, and also isn’t as clumsy as his looks make him appear. He finds out that Steve loves to talk, isn’t usually allowed to within the City, but boy does he have stories and secrets to share. His head is full of them! Steve is a lot more useful than just a chip to be played, he could be the main piece to bring down the whole unjust world order, he just needs to be convinced to stay, and with how close the guys grow over time, that isn’t too hard at all...

[masosade]

It’s been several weeks now since the fight for Phos’ life and Maso hasn’t left the pillow Lounge even once. Not like he has anywhere else to go. Now that Calypso was gone, there weren’t any despair-related activities he would be assigned to, nor was he in the mood for bothering other people.

Especially since Stellan was tracking his moves. Partially, his refusal to go somewhere stemmed from a sullen attempt to bore Stellan and Neil into forgetting about him. If he never did anything exciting, they’d move on to other things and leave him alone so he could find someone to take the bracelet off. 

Then he realized they were probably not watching him and simply had a signal set up for when he got into trouble so they could make out in peace, and the joy of being boring faded.

It’s not that he was depressed, per se, not really. He was just...unsure of his next move. And waiting with a purpose sounded much better than wandering around aimlessly until something interesting happened.

The first week he was anxious someone from the MiW might come back, or Stellan would give him another lecture, but it was relatively quiet. Then he started telling himself it was relaxing, sitting there doing nothing but resting in pillows. A pitiful lie.

After two days of trying to sleep (just to see how Phos did it), his restlessness caught up to him and he started moving the pillows around, building little caves until he grew bored of that too.

Worry followed shortly after, then anger, then regret, and finally just listless state of ‘whatever happens, happens.’

As long as no one bothers me, I’m fine.

How luck would have it, his peace didn’t last long.

While Maso sat staring at the broken TV one day, wondering how he could upgrade it with the few tools he had at hand and hopefully shadow proof it so it could work even after Phos’ expected return, he heard some rustling in one of the hallways.

Phos! Was his first thought and then, The MiW? No wait...Stellan? Shadow Mariella? Can shadows even mimic footsteps?

Maybe she was still with that hopeless Alice. Maso hoped it wasn't them, because the last thing he wanted to see was a pawn of Calypso coming to gloat.  

The door swung open, letting two figures step inside the Lounge and Maso realized he had judged too soon. Any pawn of Calypso was welcome instead of them, hell, even the Absurdist would’ve been a much better sight.

“Told you the bracelet still works!” Anastasia said, sounding way too pleased. “He’s still here!”

It took Maso a second to recognize the Stanley by her side. He had changed since the last time he saw him, less glitchy and the worn employee 427 outfit (which Maso assumed he had worn ironically) was now replaced by a suit, which looked just as ridiculous.

His expression twisted into one of annoyance.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Not quite,” the Stanley smiled.

“Maybe he meant me~”

“Seriously, are you two here to gloat or something. Fuck off. I’m not hurting anyone sitting here so whatever twisted plan you have to torture me into getting better, I’m sure there are loooots of doomed Bradleys you can use them on.”

“Oh yess,” Anastasia let go of Stanley’s arm and, honest to god, marched over the pillows in five inch tall platform boots, somehow not twisting her prosthetics in the process.  “We have a hoooooorrible torture plan for you. So horrible, you’ll never call yourself a masochist ever again~”

She plopped down next to Maso, not so subtly blocking the exit should he try to jump up and run.

He glared at her. “You’re a disgrace to Bradleys everywhere.”

“I know!”

Stanley joined on Maso’s other side. He didn’t sit too close but Maso still scooted backwards, keeping a close eye on his hands in case he tried to paralyze or pump him full of hope again.

“We aren’t really here to torture you, Bradley,” He said in a softer voice than what Maso was used to from him. At first he thought Stanley was trying to appear as nonthreatening, although taking a closer look revealed that he didn’t look as strong as he did back when they first met. Probably why Anastasia was accompanying him.

“We’re here to talk.”

“That’s just as bad. I’d prefer torture.”

“Oh, any kind~?” Anastasia smirked.

“No! The pain kind, do any of you even listen to me when I say I’m a pain Masochist. As in physical pain. God! You just hear what you wanna hear, don't you?”

“That would make three of us, kiddo.”

“Yeah, fuck you, An.”

“Maybe if you ask nicer-”

“Kids,” Stanley interrupted. “Can we get on with it now?”

Anastasia piped down and Maso reluctantly turned his attention back to Stanley. All his arms were crossed tightly over his jacket, but at a moment’s notice he would be prepared to stab then both with any blade resembling object in his pockets. Stanley was weak but Anastasia was there to be his bodyguard and Maso knew that he’d have to take them both down if he wanted to escape.

Just want to talk, my ass.

“Calm down, Maso. We aren’t going to hurt you—“

“Then get on with it already so you can leave faster.”

Stanley sighed. “Fine. First of all, I wanted to apologize for...my obsession with you. It was creepy and desperate. You’re not even the Bradley, or my Bradley. So I shouldn't have come after you like that. Though I don’t apologize for paralyzing you, annoying you or giving you hope.”

His expression gave way to a bratty smirk. Maso was only slightly surprised to see he still had it in him to be a little shit, despite the beating he took from Phos.

“Okay.”

“Okay! So next, we wanted to offer you company if you are going to go get healed at Seraphim’s. I know you’re scared-”

“No I’m not-”

“Stellan confirmed you are, so yes, I know you’re scared and probably won’t go through it alone but it might help having someone you know with you!”

“It really won’t, I hate you both.”

Stanley looked pleased. He glanced at Anastasia, who took it as a cue.

“Okay, kiddo, listen up.”

Why is everyone calling me a kiddo, I’m probably their exact fucking age. If Maso wasn't annoyed yet, he was now.

“As a Spencer, I know what you’re going through.”

A derisive snort. Anastasia continued, unfazed.

“I’ve also been changed by past events in my life, ones that physically and mentally scarred me for life, or so I thought.” She glanced down at her prosthetics and despite his skepticism, Maso couldn’t help but listen.

“I was stuck in hell for months, a kind of hell that no Office can compare to. And after I was rescued, I was certain of only one thing: I didn’t want to be alive for another second. I asked my rescuers over and over again just to mercy kill me and let me be in peace, but they never listened. After immediate attention to my wounds, they gave me emotional first aid. I was put through all kinds of physical therapy and medication, the first year all against my will because I didn’t want to get better. I just wanted to curl up and rot.

But despite my struggling, it did help. And I realized I didn’t really want to die, I just wanted to stop hurting. My supervisor knew this and she told me they were willing to fix me up, give me new limbs and change my body as I saw fit, if I would promise to give living another chance. And with that deal, I did.”

So she blackmailed you into going to therapy, Maso wanted to say. He was determined to find flaws in her ‘redemption’ story. It made him feel uncomfortable, not that he would admit it. Was he supposed to believe he could have the same? A pill here, a touch of magic there and suddenly he was as good as new, Perfectly Normal Bradley Spencer, here to make the world a better place or some shit like that. Yeah right.

An continued, unfazed by his musings.

“Therapy wasn't easy, even after I decided I’ll give it a try. I hated it for a long while, but eventually the changes were noticeable. I stopped crying so much, I was able to talk to other patients at the Hospital, I found interest in hobbies again and even got my punning abilities back~”

Stanley snorted in the background.

“Either way! I know you’ve heard this from lots of people, therapy and medication helps along with a goal in mind. And I think you know we aren’t making this up to trick you into a straight jacket. But you’re holding yourself back because you’re too scared to make real goals, Maso. You think you will change into a different person. I didn’t. I changed into a different person under torture, but I changed back into my true self when I let myself heal. And I’m quite happy with how I am today. I will never want to go back to the broken husk of a person I was years ago. Even when I thought the trauma was the only thing I had left.”

She gestured around him. “You already know your true self. It’s not a sad little fusion moping around and self destructing is it?”

“Maybe it is,” Maso shot back.

“Nah, it’s not. Because if it is, then why would you still be here? Why aren’t you out there sulking and bothering Stellans and throwing yourself off platforms?”

“...well, because—“

“Because the real “Maso” or whoever you are now, isn’t that guy who wants to cosplay a corpse so badly. It’s the guy who almost literally raised Heaven and Earth to save the life of his friend. Or who spends his time taking apart broken TVs to see if he could make something interesting out of it. A robot, perhaps? A little automatic pranking device?”

Maso made a face. “I was thinking of a scanner,” He muttered.

“See!” An’s eyes lit up. “You wanna have friends who recognize you as one too, and you want to build stuff and make puns and steal people’s clothes to get your hair ruffled. If you really just wanted to die, you’d be dead already. If you didn’t want to change, you would’ve disappeared and quietly made it happen.”

“It’s the hope-”

“Hope isn’t a parasite, Bradley.” Stanley cut in. “It’s a natural state for a soul to have. If your soul only had one emotion, it wouldn’t know how to survive. You basically starved it of the thing it needed the most. Nourishment, in form of happiness, hope and comfort. Your soul isn’t true when it’s full of despair, it’s just starving.”

“You- you guys are just saying that to get me to come to your stupid hospital so you can fix me, aren't you?”

“No. We’re not dragging you anywhere. As we said, we just wanted to talk.” Stanley stood up and An followed suit.

“If you want to come with us, you’re welcome at the hospital. We have a garden, a library, workshops where you can build and craft to your heart’s content. You’ll get your own room and personal doctors assigned to you.”

“But I can’t leave whenever I want, can I?”

“...no. If you do come, you will have to stay there until you have shown improvement or signs of stability.”

Maso scoffed. “Then no.”

“It’s your choice, for now. But then I would look into other options. And I think you already know which one would work.” Stanley gave him a curt nod. “We’ll see each other around.”

With that, he turned and left for the door, back the way he came from. An lingered a while longer, studying Maso quietly.

“...what?”

“If you aren’t ready to change for yourself, think about what’s best for Phobos,” she said after a moment.

“What will you do when he comes back? Cling to him and do nothing? What if he needs help? Are you prepared to give him some hope and comfort too? If you aren’t, what will you do when he decides you aren't worth the trouble? You should then consider finding a purpose that is more than just existing around other people. You can’t help your friends if you’re nothing but a puppet following the motions.” She turned to follow Stanley out.

“Think about it, Maso. What kind of friend do you even want to be?”

And then they were gone. Maso fell back onto the pillows feeling strangely annoyed and tired. He wanted to say it’s because they were testing his patience with their whole ‘we can save you!’ spiel. But as much as he hated to say it, there were things that rang true, things he’d have to think about deeper.

What kind of friend do you even want to be?

What kind of friend, indeed?

[thorne93]

Who Will Win? (Part 4)

Prompt: Jefferson (Once Upon A Time) sees you on the sidewalk one day, his “dead” wife.

Word Count: 2150

Warning: Threats, language, angst, sadness, sick parent

Notes: This will span from season 1 through 5, if you don’t want spoilers, maybe don’t read this, haha. Also, the reader’s Storybrooke name is Alice. Beta’d by the amazeballs @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and badgered @amarvelouswritings Thank you both! Could never get this done without you!

Tags:  @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise19982sand @missinstantgratification @thejulesworld@nedthegay

Sebastian Stan Tags: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock

Who Will Win Tags: @mrs-lancelot @elivanah @ultrarebelheart @learisa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end of the week finally came. You didn’t work Sundays, it was your only day off. But you were happy for it. Jefferson had treated you like a queen this entire week. He drove you anywhere and everywhere, but you tried to keep it to just to and from work. He brought you lunch every day, and took you out to dinner every night. He was like a saint. You two always found something to talk about and he was an amazing person to vent to because he turned irritating situations into hilarious ones.

Truth be told, you were a little sad that you couldn’t have an excuse to see him today but you weren’t going to push your luck and his generosity. You paid him for the gas, but spending 6 days together after just meeting might’ve gotten on his nerves.

You decided to take the day and make it about you, since you had one of the most stressful weeks of your life. You started to take a shower, but the water never got hot, not even close. It was ice cold.

“What in the world?”

You went down to inspect your water heater and it appeared to be broken. You called a plumber and when he got there he was the bearer of even more bad news.

“Well, not only is your water heater busted, your pipes up throughout the house aren’t up to codes.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“I’m not sure. We’ll have to strip out some wood, replace a few of these pipes, and replace the water heater.”

You stifled a groan. “And how long will that take?”

“Well my guys won’t be available until Thursday. It’ll take the whole crew and a few more days after that.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Well, with this stuff broken, you got cold showers and cold dishwashing.”

“For five days?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Okay...Well thanks. Yeah if you could come out Thursday, that would be great…”

The plumber left and Jefferson called you.

“Good morning, Alice,” he greeted in that same sexy, cheery tone.

“Hey,” you responded in a discouraged tone.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding so sincere it made your heart ache.

“My water heater is broken and they can’t fix it until Thursday and even then it’s going to take some time to fix.” You sighed with a bit of a groan. “Why does all of this happen to me?”

“I’m sorry. If you want, you could stay with me for a while. I have a huge house and lots of spare rooms…”

You laughed lightly. “Uh...I don’t know…”

“I know we don’t know each other very well, but I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman. You need somewhere with hot water, I would like the company. It’s a win-win. What do you say?”

“Well, I have a dog, would it be okay to bring her?”

“Bring 100 dogs if you wish,” he said jovially.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. It’s no trouble at all.”

“Ever the saint, Jefferson,” you remarked, a bit of adoration tracing in your tone.

“I’ll be by in an hour to pick you up. Pack whatever you need, alright?”

“Okay. Thank you so much.”

“As always, it’s my pleasure.”

You hung up and raced around to grab your makeup, clothing, curling iron, and the dog food for Rabbit. You called her Rabbit because as a puppy she bounced around so much, and she was all white.

Jefferson came up and helped you with your suitcases and Rabbit happily jumped in his car.

“I hope she’s okay to be in your car,” you noted, worried about her nails on the leather.

“It’s just a car. It’s fine.”

“Thanks again.”

You two drove off toward his mansion and as soon as you got there, Rabbit bolted for the back door to go outside in the fenced in yard.

“Feel free to go shower and I’ll get started on lunch, okay?” Jefferson lightly instructed.

Something had been eating at you since you met Jefferson, and you didn’t want to ask it, but for some reason, now you felt like you had to.

“You’re being so good to me, why?” you wondered. You usually never got this sort of kindness no matter how much you doled it out yourself.

He seemed to be taken off guard by the question. He went from a small smile to a much wider one and a laugh.

“Uh, what do you mean, Alice?” he asked. And you could almost hear the lie in it. He knew why he was doing this, but he was pretending not to...Why?

“I mean, you’re going way out of your way to help me. Why? Most people might just give me a few bucks to help for the car and the house. You’re giving me everything. Food, a house, a car…”

“I’m just helping out a friend,” he said simply. “I’d hope if I was in your situation someone would do the same for me.”

“I don’t think people are quite as kind as you.”

“You are,” he breathed and the air became electrified again between you two, even though you were several feet apart. There was almost this physical desire to move toward him, but you stayed planted for a few more moments.

“Well, uh...You go shower and I’ll make lunch,” Jefferson echoed the command from earlier.

“Alright.”

You showered and met him downstair, the shower feeling amazing as it seemed to wash away your stress and fears.

“I have some scraps, if it’s okay, I’d like to give them to Rabbit,” Jefferson said.

“Sure. She loves human food,” you said as you looked at your white companion. She looked back at you with such adoration, you wondered how it was possible these wonderful things could exist.

You two sat down to lunch and Jefferson said, “So what are you going to do?”

You looked around, confused for a second. “I’m sorry?”

“About your house, your car, your dad…?”

“Oh...right. Well, I’ll just have to wait on the house. I’m hoping my car is finished in the next couple of days...As far as Dad…” You sighed and shrugged, picking around your food. “I don’t know…”

You went into all the pros and cons of amputation and non amputation, no option sounded better than the other.

“I’m leaving it up to him though,” you said as a final decision.

“Why is that?”

“He’s coherent. It’s his legs. If I was in his situation, I wouldn’t want anyone making that decision for me. I mean, if we amputate and...and something happens, I’ll blame myself. And if we don’t, and the sores get infected and go to his heart...I’ll blame myself. If I leave it up to him, there’s no choice I have but to support his decision, and pray it’s the right one.”

“And you’re okay with that?” he questioned as he took a bite of food.

“Well...Yeah. I mean, they wanted to give him a different heart. You know, a heart transplant? My mom left it up to my dad. He ultimately said ‘I don’t want to get a heart transplant, because what if I get the heart of someone who doesn’t like kids?’ And...here he is, several years later, using his own heart. I think he makes the right decisions when it comes to his body.”

“He seems very wise.”

“He is. He’s strong, wise, knowledgeable, loving…He’s the greatest man I know. He was such a hard worker. He’s funny…” You sighed.

Jefferson leaned over and grabbed your hand. “Hey, he can make it through. If he’s done all that you said he has, he can make it.”

“Thank you, Jefferson. You’re so sweet.”

A kind smile played on his dark and pale features, making your heart flutter.

After lunch, you said you would get settled into your room, and Jefferson showed you where it was at. He brought up your suitcases and showed you to a beautiful room, where he dropped off the suitcases as you stood in the door frame.

“What’s mine is yours. I mean it. You need towels, blankets, washcloths, anything, just let me know. If you have a favorite snack or drink, I can go get them…” he offered as he stood in your room.

“I think I’ll be fine, Jefferson, but thank you, so much, for everything.”

“My pleasure,” he said as he started to head out of the room. “I’ll let you get settled in,” he said as he stood right across from you in the doorframe, only a few inches of space separating you two, that same tension clicked to life as soon as he was in front of you.

“I---uh--yeah,” you said, stammering out some sort of response. Whenever you made direct eye contact with him, you were reduced to a bumbling idiot.

He seemed like he wanted to say or do something but instead, he clenched his fist and jaw and just spun and left the room, leaving you speechless, and finally able to breathe. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath.

--------------------------

The week seemed to fly by. Your car was ready, which was helpful, so you drove on your own to and from work, but the house was still being worked on. You told Jefferson you would cook for him tonight to repay the favor of letting you basically move in.

Having Jefferson to come home to after a long day of bitchy customers was so perfect. He was quickly becoming someone you wanted to be with. You two enjoyed reading quietly together, walking Rabbit together, making dinner for each other, and having breakfast together.  

So you two were at the grocery, picking up items. You grabbed red potatoes, meat, sauces. You were going to make this a banquet he wouldn’t forget.  

You two got back home and he put on some soft, classical music and you began to work in the kitchen while he cleaned up the dining room and living room. You got done with the meal and brought it out to a beautifully decorated table, and you two sat down to share an amazing meal as conversation seemed to flow easily between you two. Once you were done, you cleaned up the plates and grabbed two glasses of wine and sat on his couch.

“You’re so...beautiful,” Jefferson said as he put his hand on his cheek.

You blushed, playing with your wine glass.

“Thank you, Jefferson. You’re quite the sight for sore eyes yourself.”

“I do try to keep my appearance up,” he noted, gesturing to himself.

You laughed lightly and he seemed to watch you with so much adoration you weren’t sure where it was coming from. You’d only known each other a few weeks.

“It’s been so wonderful living here,” you noted. “I wish I could live here all the time. It’s so big, beautiful, so secluded...I love it.”

“You could stay, you know. I wouldn’t mind,” he said gently.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t...I couldn’t do that,” you said sheepishly, not thinking he would actually take you up on the offer.

“Are you sure? I really wouldn’t mind. LIke I’ve said, I get lonely here. The company would be much appreciated.”

“I know. Me too...but I have a house and I can’t live with a guy I practically just met,” you noted. A look of hurt lashed across his face and you reached towards him, after putting your wine on the coffee table. “No, Jefferson, I don’t mean anything by it. I care for you a great deal and I appreciate all you’re doing for me, I’m just...as much as I would like to, that might be moving too fast, you know?” you said, shrugging.

“No, I understand,” he said simply. “Alice, I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to…”

“Thank you, Jefferson,” you sweetly said, hour hand still on his hand. You two looked down at your hand but you didn’t remove it. His eyes flashed up to yours as you both began moving closer to each other, your faces closing the gap between you two.

“Is this moving too fast?” he whispered, his eyes casting down to yours.

“No,” you breathed back in response. And finally your lips touched. You thought it would be a sweet kiss with as slowly as you were moving, but the instant they made contact, there was a fiery heat behind them. You kissed him hard and bit his lip, your hand searching for his dark locks as his tongue found yours. His hands skimmed your sides as he lifted you and put you on his lap, where you were straddling him.

After a few moments of that, you broke free, foreheads resting against each other.

“Now,” he started, out of breath, “do you remember?”

[nlghtfell]

 this is not harmless. you are not breathing.  ⏤⏤  richard siken

there’s a lot to be said about edward richards, but none of it is good. 

given up by his mother as a newborn, originally with his twin brother in tow until lila richards decided she wanted only one back, leaving the other a few days old and alone. from there came the foster homes, the temporary placements that left him a fracture more broken with each new “family.” muggle orphanages were no better, nor were they any kinder. a pipe dream like kindness had long disappeared, with hope soon after it. then came hanna krause, a woman who allowed both to exist in his world. that should have been the first warning sign.           german, a mother of one, and willing to take in the menace all others rejected. ( would you be willing to cross country lines to stay with her? no, maybe, y e s , okay. ) nine and almost not alone.

he went with hanna, allowed her to take him in, allowed himself to let it happen, to not resist in the small moments where he could have. then he met her son ( derik, twelve, grin like a knife ), and the kindness once again began to seep away from his world.           you’re a wizard, edward, just like us. it’s what makes us bonded. what the fuck. okay. 

he accepts the truth because there is nothing else to do, nothing else to say but okay when hanna is there and willing, even as her son says the words ‘it’s what makes us bonded’ like a promise to be broken. the resentful unwillingness to trust is still embedded on the bones of his skeleton, but she is the only one that can make him forget, even for a second, so he stays. and when derik comes back from durmstrang for the summer, boasting about new tricks that his friends taught him, he stays. he stays when derik slips into his room in the middle of the night and offers to teach him. he stays even when he says no, he stays when derik pulls out a knife ( there’s so much you can do with a muggle’s toy, you know ) and shows him just how much damage a blade can do.           you’re so much more fun to carve than a dead owl, e.t. no, no. no, please.

he stops saying please by the time his voice has gone hoarse into the face of his pillow and his arm is stained red. tiny lines that can do no real damage, but the eighteen of them still sting for the entire summer, as do the twenty-seven others that follow. they sting under the look hanna gives him when he accidentally brushes a wall too harshly and can’t help the twitch of a wince on his lips, and they sting even more when she looks at derik with a love that only a mother can give her son and he knows, knows, knows that he could never tell her a word because even still he wants her to look at him the same way.

yet the relief is almost tangible as the new school year begins and it’s once again just him and hanna, and he is not the same, but that’s okay because only really he can tell, and if she notices the small changes ( more monotone, more dull, more harsh ) she doesn’t say a thing. it really shouldn’t sting as much as the barely healed scars, and the fact that it does makes him hurt angry all the more. 

then he’s back for christmas break, and it’s worse than the summer. a ten-year-old doesn’t hold well against a boy three years older and as burly as a brick wall, but that doesn’t stop him from trying ( still, the word please never falls from his lips again, even as derik asks to mockingly hear it again and again, the cuts tracing his past wounds deeper with every repeat ). then he’s gone again, and he can breathe again, even if his body is punctured and his lungs are heavy with the weight in his chest. he doesn’t say anything when hanna asks him if he’s okay, caught in between a fuck off and the flicker of hope that reaches him at the look she gives him, like she almost loves him but can’t just yet.

when the next summer comes, his body seizes at the sight of him, and the urge to go has never been so heady, but when his eyes find hanna instead, the stupid, destructive, hopeful sliver of him tells him to stay ; and he does. even when he can no longer have another touch him without near throttling them, even when he steals derik’s knives and gets punished for it, even when he manages to keep one for himself and pulls it out on hanna when she tries to put her arm around him one night and she screams but still doesn’t tell him to go ; he stays. and when he gets his wand the next month, it doesn’t replace the knife, but joins it. and as he lays at night, remembering everything because he has to and trying to forget because he can’t, he imagines trailing derik’s knife against his flesh instead, in the exact patterns embedded on his own skin, and using his wand to muffle the sounds just as was done to him when the pillow wasn’t enough.

the year he turns eleven is the year he begins his education at durmstrang, but it’s also the year it gets worse. suddenly, instead of three months a year with derik, it’s nine, and hanna isn’t there to keep him to stay, but he does anyway, because he likes it, and that’s what makes him hate it. the classes, the magic, the small adrenaline pinch that courses through him when he performs a spell ; he likes it, and so he fucking hates it. and then derik finds him, his friends in tow and fucking huge, sneers and sharp smirks harsh on faces, and edward learns what true damage they can do, magic now derik’s weapon, not a muggle toy. he learns, and remembers, and it’s not just a gang of fourteen-year-olds, but boys and girls older and more experienced in torture than they can ever hope to be. and that’s exactly what it is ; torture, pure and dark and magical. he also learns not to beg ( he learned that his first summer with the krauses ), not to fight back, not to do anything but take it, even as his body burned, a damning fire both within and out, a rage that trailed on every inch of his skeleton, on every surface of his flesh.

but it also made him dull, and a void slowly settled on his bones, first within his chest and then grew, almost choking him with the emptiness, and then the rage and resentment that burned a forest fire threatened to overtake, a dichotomy of ice and fire that enveloped him after three years of regular torture that he couldn’t escape.

and then the year derik graduated, it was meant to become better. even while for three years no one at durmstrang noticed or cared for the broken shell of his body, now that he was gone it should have been better. but the summer after was the worst of them all, for now that derik was of legal age, he could perform magic outside of schools grounds. nights where he would muffle the whole of edward’s room just so no one could hear what he was truly doing, nights that became as regular as the ones in school, nights where he would heal edward just to start the canvas over again.           to make up for future lost time, e.t. just wait until christmas break.

but he didn’t. he left durmstrang, he left derik, he left the torture, he left germany, he left hanna, and with her he left his last shred of hope, but he couldn’t care less. he was in england in less than an hour after he returned to the house he lived in since he was nine ( illegal apparition, learned the year prior ), and was soon stopped by an auror who detected the trace on him.

( this part is a bit messy bc i still need to smooth out the details and i am Lazy, but basically the whole encounter is like “where are your parents” “fuck off” and then he’s taken to the ministry, where they question him more but get nothing except some insults and hard silence, and when it comes to the topic of schools, they one way or another figure out that he’s not a hogwarts kid and that he doesn’t go anywhere else ( anymore ), so it’s decided that come the start of second term he’s going to hogwarts and then ~the next three weeks happen~ ( like i said, details need some work lmao ) and soon enough he goes and gets sorted up in the headmaster’s office before the feast, slytherin gaining a new student ( but tbh he almost got hufflepuff ), and within his first night ( much more his first week ) he gets mistaken for enzo richards over a handful of times, despite the differing houses, and that’s when he finds out, oh, twin, fuck ( again, i need to smoothen out the details and actually create them lmao ) and it’s terrible, truly, because he doesn’t need this and it’s too much, but when their cousin heavily asks edward to join them for the summer, he does. )

he meets lila richards and he stops himself from thinking of hanna, stops himself from comparing one to another, but the further crumbling of the concept of “family” is quick. he learns again : she chose enzo over him, and his “father” chose a life away over her. he learns that nicky’s ( still calling him that for now, aka the cousin ) father was a squib who married a muggle catholic who not only couldn’t stand her son’s ability, but his sexuality. he learned that his brother, his twin, has bruises from his ( not their, never their ) mother, and the sight of them, he learns, reminds him too much of the scars that litter his own body, hidden by black clothing and matching armbands, and it, he learns, ignites a rage so deep within him that he can hardly see straight when lila comes into the room. but he makes a promise with enzo, to protect him, even when he can’t truly keep it until she’s dead.

but he goes back to hogwarts with enzo in tow, and says nothing. he says nothing when during a hogsmeade visit in november he makes enzo stay up in the castle pretending to be him in detention, while he goes out to meet lila for tea, enzo his name, and he says nothing when he slips a potion into her drink while she’s not looking and lets her drink it and convulse, crying out for help from strangers that he knows cannot do a thing against the already fatal dose. he says nothing when enzo finds out, when enzo picks her over him, even when his world taints red with spite. he doesn’t say anything, but he kept his promise, he protected enzo, and that was all.

( okay lol, back to a Messy bc it doesn’t really need to be written out until i do his app, and i’m even more lazy than before, so basically edward and enzo’s relationship gets fractured by the fact that enzo doesn’t see or understand what edward did / the reason/complexity behind it, and edward is BitterTM over that fact, so they are on the outs, but the promise is still there, so they stick to each other during their last two years at hogwarts, and they live with nicky when outside of school, and it continues until after they graduate, where then somehow wymack finds them and they get hired at the foxes coffee shop, where they get to live above the place and essentially were the newbies for like a year and some months now, but then lowell oakley comes in and . . . shit gets Fucked Up ) ( how to fit in five-ish years into one paragraph by dae )

( okay but some Important Details that need to be addressed are the drugs / potions edward comes on, somewhere right after he killed lila, and so he’s been taking them for years now, and essentially they make him “feel” + forget a lot ?? since a lot of his sober state is essentially him either feeling complete apathy or tidal moments of rage + bitterness and then crushing memories of everything, being on something is his way of coping with it, and he hardly ever comes off of the potions because since it’s become so intertwined with his daily life and schedule, when he does go sober, he goes through heavy withdrawals, but lately ( aka in the past two/three months or so ) he’s been going longer periods without them and doesn’t tell anybody ( tbh he doesn’t tell anyone anything ) and so yeah, that’s where he is currently )