#but sasha and eno died long before they did

[bungone]

apparently people like it when i rant about things, so

Mephisto and Faust didn't deserve their fate. They didn't deserve to die. Narratively, it makes sense. It's well written. Awful. I love it. The story would not have been the same if they hadn't. I'm not saying they shouldn't have died. I'm just saying, they didn't deserve to.

I see so many memes and jokes and whatnot about how much they suck, how they're pure evil (Mephisto more than Faust), but you have to remember they're children. Literal children.

In canon they're what. 13? 14? They could (should) be in middle school- and the fact they're not in itself is fucked up, because it's not just a normal situation for the world they live in, there's circumstances that were out of their control that prevented them from ever growing up to be normal kids.

Mephisto? he was in school. Then he got assaulted— that's a canon point. And by no fault of his own he now has a terminal illness that makes everyone around him simultaneously terrified of him and hate him on a fundamental level. Guess who was the only one who didn't? Faust.

And that's cool and all but two kids who's ages are in the single digits shouldn't have to rely solely on each other to survive. No buts, no exceptions, they're supposed to have adults care for them.

And guess who that adult was? Talulah. And that was fine, sure, at first, before the whole changing thing. She was the adult figure that they needed and it's no surprise at all that Mephisto refused to leave even after she changed. She was the only one who showed them an ounce of kindness and that was something Mephisto, unlike Faust, had experienced before. So it makes sense that Faust would be less trusting of her and ready to leave.

But they didn't. They stayed, and these 13 year olds, with like, severe developmental trauma, who have been conditioned to be okay with violence and death so long as they achieve their goal in the end, aren't to blame for their circumstances?

I mean sure, Mephisto is sadistic and doesn't care for the lives of all his soldiers. Tell me the fact that they all look exactly the same and wear masks doesn't have something to do with it.

Look me in the eye and tell me soldiers that don't have human faces and all wear uniforms and could easily be perceived as carbon copies to an outsider wouldn't be easy to overlook.

The fact they've been stripped of their individuality makes me think that he—Mephisto, I mean—can't actually handle killing people all that well.

anyway thats that pls get homeboy a res stone and cough drops and a karaoke machine and his silly little snake boy he's in a severely unhealthy codependent relationship with back pls thanks

[mefausto19]

i found a fluff thing i wrote ;-;

“We’ve completed the procedure,” Kalt-sit tells him, expression inscrutable.

Faust snaps to attention, turning to look at her pleadingly. “Where is he?”

Her mouth thins. “Follow me,” she commands. Without a glance back, she sweeps away. Faust keeps pace with her, heart racing in nervous anticipation, fingers picking at the hem of his jacket.

They stop at a nondescript door, past an elevator marked authorized personnel only. Kalt-sit turns to Faust, expression shuttered.

“He might not be how you remember him,” she warns. “He’s been unresponsive since he’s woken up.”

Faust nods, staring at her expectantly. His fingers continue to pry apart the hem of his jacket, worming a loose string free,

Kalt-sit looks him over and sighs. She takes a key out of her pocket and opens the door, gesturing Faust inside, before slipping in and closing the door behind her.

Faust doesn’t pay her any mind. He’s already rushing in, eyes scanning the room—a fairly standard hospital room—before they land on the only other person in the room.

“Eno,” he croaks.

Eno’s eyes snap towards him. His face crumples and brightens all at once.

“Sasha,” he breathes, then again, louder, “Sasha!”

Before he knows it, Faust’s legs are moving on their own to cross the room. Eno is leaping out of the hospital bed to tackle Faust in a hug. Faust catches him, holds him, cries because they were really here, both of them, still alive, despite everything. Eno is warm and solid and breathing.

Eno hiccups, tucking his chin and leaning his head on Faust’s chest, fingers clutching his at jacket desperately. Faust buries his face in Eno’s hair, blinking away tears. They fit together seamlessly, like they always have, like they could fill the gaps between them and never have to be apart anymore.

Eno is sobbing, now, and Sasha tightens his grip, murmurs, “I’m here,” over and over, and part of him thinks that’s my fault, I did that.

“Don’t—“ Eno gasps, clutching his jacket tighter, “Don’t leave me again. Not like that.”

Faust screws his eyes shut, biting his tongue to keep from wavering. “Never,” he swears, “Never.”

“I thought—” Eno continues unsteadily, “I thought you died—”

I thought you died, too, Faust thinks, biting back a sob. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“How could you—” Eno hiccups, “—ask me to live? While you—”

“I’m sorry,” Faust repeats, stroking his hair.

Eno sobs, again, buries his face into the crook of his neck again, slotting it above his collarbone. Both of them stay there, words spent. Faust holds Eno, and Eno curls up against him. Faust sways, letting himself savor the moment, letting himself believe, in these stolen moments, that everything would be okay.

Eno is alive. He’s alive and he’s safe as long as he’s in Faust’s arms.

At some point, Kalt-sit slips away, locking the door behind her. Faust barely notices.