#heard is a poison in the movement to end abuse

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; blood; murder

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: The end. 4047 words.

1987 The new year

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

Mel nodded. “She will.”

He looked at their creation; it had to be perfect. Eddie wasn’t sure a thing like him was capable of perfection, but for you, he’d try. “Thank you,”

“No problem,” Mel replied, nonchalance in tone but Eddie knew her better than that.

“I mean it, Melissa. You’re a good friend to her. To me.”

Mel squirmed under Eddie’s serious gaze. She blushed, shrugging, and turning to leave.

“Just before you go!” Eddie rushed to say. “I, ah… I heard that you had discovered how Steve Harrington came to haunt you?”

Her head tilted in reply, just a curious small movement that meant to ask how he’d heard about it.

“Hailey mentioned it… Said you’d been working with Ev on…” Eddie paused, unsure what to call it. “Death… craft?”

Mel almost laughed. “Some of us know our magic early. We figure out our abilities. Others… like me… Haven’t entirely grasped the scope of what we can do… I, apparently, channel ghosts… Or something like that,”

“Something like that,” he repeated. “And, the door is open now?”

Steve Harrington’s ghost did a lot of things. One of them was leaving a door between the living and the dead open. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on who you asked, that particular door existed somewhere within Mel.

Mel considered Eddie’s questions. The painfully earnest and hopeful expression on his face. He looked almost human.

“I don’t know how it works. I can’t control it properly. If that’s what you’re asking for,” she told him.

Eddie nodded and looked down at the wet grass. He kicked at it a little, droplets flicking around. It would dry soon, under their creation. The January cold rendered unaffecting.

“I… I thought you never really had…”

“A family? Anyone who cared about me?” Eddie finished for Mel. She winced at his bitterness. “Sorry… I did not mean for that to come out like that… My mother died having me. She’s who… I thought maybe…”

If any of the other witches had been standing in Mel’s place, they would have been offering already. They would have been consoling or planning or promising. But it wasn’t them. It was Mel. And Mel did what she did best. She listened.

“If she is there… Wherever there is. On the other side. If she’s there and has always been there, I want to make sure she sees this. I need to know she didn’t see what I had become and turn away in shame. I need her to know that…” Eddie’s jaw clenched. He felt raw and exposed. “I want her to know…”

Mel approached Eddie like he was an injured animal. She was intuitive; she knew that was exactly what he was. Slowly, she put her hand on his arm. “We can try. I’ll try.”

…

You frowned at the tiny white petals. How they formed dozens of flowers. And how the flowers grouped together and grew wildly. Yarrow. Yarrow was growing from your bed. Following the stem down to the wooden frame, you found no glue or magic trick. Yarrow was, very literally and quite suddenly, growing from your bed.

“Do you know anything about this?” you asked Eddie when he wandered into the room.

“I thought it was you,”

“Why would it be me?”

He snorted. “Because you are constantly gardening in unorthodox places,”

“I am?”

“You are.”

Eddie loved the surprised and confused expression on your face. Sometimes you knew yourself well. Other times, not at all. He detoured from what he was doing to pull you into a hug.

“Perhaps it is an omen,”

“Not one that I know of,”

“And, of course, you do know all,” he teased.

He loved the faux-annoyed squeaking sound you made. He loved how you melted into him, still eyeing the yarrow suspiciously. God, he loved you.

“Speaking of mysterious,” you said, pushing off him with your palms flat to his chest. “What were you and Mel doing this morning?”

“I accompanied her on her morning walk. You know what happens to her back if she doesn’t go on her muscle tension walks.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and hummed. “Once is happenstance. Two is a coincidence. But three… If one more out of the ordinary thing comes to pass…”

“You’ll what?” Eddie poked, shaking his head at you. It was difficult to hide anything from you, but he could not wait to tell Kelsey about the yarrow. She had been right.

You said nothing, just trust-fell back into his arms. 

“I asked her about what she’s been doing with Ev,” Eddie confessed. He kicked himself for not thinking of the cover sooner. Nothing worked better than the truth.

“The ghost stuff?”

“Yes. I’ve been thinking about my mother.”

That got your attention. You stepped out of the hug again.

“Don’t look at me like that,”

“Like what?” you asked.

“Like I’m a poor broken bat once more,”

“That’s not what I think of you. You know that,”

“And yet you look wounded on my behalf,” he stated bluntly.

You nodded. “Sorry. I’m sorry… Um… Can she do it? Mel?”

Eddie shrugged. “She doesn’t know. She’ll try.”

You nodded again. “Can I ask… why? Or… maybe… What do you want to ask your mother?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing I can ask of her. I just want her to know that this is it.” Eddie gestured to himself as he spoke.

“You mean you? That this is your… final form, so to speak?”

“Yeah… And it would be… nice… to meet her. And for her to meet you.”

The room was quiet for only a second. Then, “If it doesn’t work with Mel, I can try. We can-”

Eddie silenced you with a kiss. The conversation didn’t need to happen. He knew you’d go to the ends of your magic for him. And nothing about that was taken for granted.

…

The sun was only just rising on the final day of January. It had been a cold winter. Snow had fallen on Hawkins in blankets, not thawing even when the weatherman promised it would. You would not let Hawkins burn anymore, so you cleansed it with water instead.

Eddie had spent the night asleep, curled up in his bat form with you. As the bedroom slowly lit up, you mumbled out the spell and he was back in his body.

“My love,” he whispered, lips cool on your neck. “I sensed your sleep was alive with story,”

“That-” a yawn, “-is a very dramatic way of asking if I dreamt. Almost Shakespearian,”

“You dreamt a dream tonight?”

“Yes, but dreamers often lie,” you recited back.

“In bed asleep, while they do dream things true,”

“Alright. End scene. Besides… I don’t think you want my dream to come true. You were in it and you were not happy,” you told him, wriggling yourself backward to be as spooned into him as possible.

“Do tell.”

It took a moment to catch the sleeping story before it faded into nothingness. Likely, it was inspired by your spell making project; it had begun as a joke, but you were sure you could resize yourself small enough to quite literally ride bat Eddie into the sunset.

“I was a bat too,” you started.

You had been a bat, swooping through pretty pink skies and fluffy white clouds. You’d chased shooting stars and nuzzled together with Eddie high up in Hawkins’ tallest trees. The other bats had kept their distance from you, as they had with Eddie. Then, the largest of the Eptesicus fuscus decided to gift you crunchy beetles and other tasty snacks.

“Wait!” Eddie interjected.

Before he could say anything, you cackled. “That is exactly what you did in the dream! You were very jealous that another bat wanted my attention,”

“What did the other bat want your attention for?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It was a real bat. Not like us. So probably to make bat babies. Don’t worry. I was not into it in the dream. Nor am I in real life.”

Eddie squeezed you tight in his arms, making a small huffing sound.

“Jealous of a make-believe animal,” you snickered.

Eddie’s smile was pressed into the nape of your neck. You felt him drag his teeth along your skin. The rolling want rippled down your body. The scent of jasmine was still strong from their night bloom. You glanced at them on the bedroom windowsill.

“Quiz me?” Eddie asked then, sucking all the sensuality from the moment.

You audibly wined, much to his pleasure. “It’s so early,” you complained, though it wasn’t your greatest grievance.

“It’s never too early to learn the craft,”

“Ugh. Fine. But only because you’re cute.”

Eddie screeched celebratorily, letting you roll out of his arms and turn to face him. He sat up and clapped his hands together.

“Heliotrope oil?” you began.

“To induce premonitions,”

“Correct. Polypody?”

“Nightmares,”

“Buckthorn?”

“Protection,”

“Um… Celandine?”

“That,” Eddie pointed at you, “is a cantrip!” he accused. You raised an eyebrow. “Are you referring to greater celandine or lesser celandine?”

You laughed. “Eddie. I don’t know. It wasn’t a trick question. Which is the one with the superstition?”

“Greater,” he told you like it wasn’t funny. “And, so what if it is superstition? Isn’t that what we are?”

A spacey feeling overtook you for a moment. “Woah… déjà vu…” You shook it from your head and looked back at Eddie. “Oh god… You still want to answer the question, don’t you?”

“It can predict death, greater celandine. For someone with a terminal illness,”

“Can it? How does a flower do that?” you teased.

“Place a stem of it on their head. If they cry, they will live. If they begin to sing, they are doomed to death,”

“I wonder what they sing,”

“Another One Bites the Dust presumably,” Eddie answered without skipping a beat.

It was impossible not to laugh; whether it was because the joke was genuinely funny or because of the smug and expecting grin on Eddie’s face, it was hard to tell.

“So dumb!”

“Hey!” Eddie yelped, diving back under the covers and reaching out for you.

Some things needed to be studied to be mastered. You were learning how magic worked around the existence of Eddie. For his part, he was a student of the basics. Beginning with the very foundations of the craft. Other things needed not a guiding grimoire or senior supervision, for those things came easily -

Kisses trailing over the softness of your belly and down. Hands wrapped around Eddie, thumb circling the tip. Bloody bites licked clean and healed without scarring.

Your favourite part of sex was the moments just before Eddie climaxed. Somehow, in his monstrousness, a rumbling sound came from deep within him while he simultaneously made a pathetic whining noise. It was always eerie and beautiful and sexy.

Eddie’s favourite part was the moments just after, the way you came down from the high. A ragdoll body, fucked out and momentarily broken. He’d position you to be comfortable, leave you for a vampire second to get water and something sugary. You’d giggle, dumb, letting him tip the drink into your mouth. Often then, before sanity returned to either of you, you’d look at him with that expression. Do something weird, it would say, that pretty face of yours.

Eddie had forgotten what it felt like to have an alive, human body. He also loved to play the role of the freak. Loved to see how far he could go before you’d feel disgust. Loved you so fully and so intensely, that every part of your existence was a work of art all on its own.

Naturally then, he’d push his tongue up your nose. Use his fanged teeth to clean unidentifiable gunk from under your nails. Bite the tender flesh above your belly button, watch the blood pool, then body-shot it out. Spit in your mouth.

He’d lick you clean of sweat, reporting on the different flavours as he did so (the sweat that rolled down the small of your back was the best). Take strands of hair from your head and thread them through his teeth, pulling at them like dental floss.  Lay his head on your body and listen to the sounds inside; he could tell you when you’d need to use the bathroom before you could even feel it.

Eddie catalogued your body in an effort to see if anything that it made was consumable to a vampire like blood was. Sweat and tears had made the list. Tears tasted salty sweet and none went to waste. He was like a truffle pig, sniffing his way across the plains of your body, searching ferally for that edible high.

You had yet to feel disgust. You doubted you ever would. It all made you feel so very loved so very desired.

Do something weird.

Eddie gripped your face and licked at it like a long-lost St. Bernard reunited with its owner.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered when he finished cleaning your face. You tasted like the chamomile balm you wore to bed.

“A surprise?” you whispered back.

Eddie nodded. “It’s in the woods,”

“But it’s so cold,” you complained, wriggling down into the heat of the bed.

“You’ll be warm soon. I promise. Let’s go.”

…

“It’s the right day,” Ash said to nobody in particular from her place at the window. She was keeping watch, tasked with sounding the alarm when you returned from the woods with Eddie. “The thirty-first. Three represents creativity and growth and self-expression. One for new beginnings. So, thirty-one is about pursuing your passions and starting a new chapter in your life. And, thirty-one is a manifestation number,”

“You do remember we were all raised by Jo ‘777’ Avery, right?” Hailey quipped. “We know what thirty-one means,”

“So does Eddie. He picked it on purpose,” Mel told them as she finished working on the apotropaic besom that would be placed on your front doorstep.

“Of course he did,” Meg said dreamily.

“Wait!” Kelsey’s eyes were wide. “Jo! Her soul cursed to take the shape of something she wasn’t… Like Eddie. What if-”

“It’s not the same. She did it to herself, remember? You can’t uncurse what went willingly into the hex,” Mel soberly offered.

The witches fell silent. Jo had been older than Sally and Gillian. Maybe even Penelope. She spent half her life in the mortal world, watching painters and sculptors and all the artists come and go. She was less muse and more quiet critic. In February of 1897, she grew ill. Jo called it heartsick. The angel numbers she had always relied on meant nothing anymore. Her life, instead, became guided by an American creative by the name of Ivan Le Lorraine Albright.

Jo watched him grow. Watched him paint. Watch his style linger on the wrong side of the cusp of brilliance. The coven often found her scribbling out spells and practicing rituals none of them recognised. Something was terribly wrong.

Then, one day in 1929, Jo conjured a monster named Ida. She poured herself into Ida. Magic and soul and all. Ivan painted frantically, a new style born, a master of the macabre crowned. As Ida was painted onto the canvas, Jo’s body faded into the abyss. Ida dragged her mother into the ink and they were no more.

The finished piece – Into the World There Came a Soul Called Ida – would be gifted to the Art Institute of Chicago. The coven sometimes visited Jo. Felt her there. Felt the energy behind the sick brushstrokes.

“Jo would have loved this. A witch and a vampire? The unholiness of it all?” Ev noted. She was sitting next to Meg, pulling petals from camellias, pansies, and cyclamens to scatter through your home.  Meg held the bowl.

“We’ve always been like this. Haven’t we?” Ash asked.

“Driven into the shadows by love or madness?”

“No, I mean… Well, yes… But I think that part might just be womanhood. Hiding the unsanitary bits. I mean we as in witches. We have always broken our own rules,” Ash replied.

The coven hushed again. Throughout history, witches had fallen in love with humans and fae and other unblessed creatures. They had broken law and lore. They had crossed lines and made new ones. But somehow, you and Eddie had been punished the hardest. It didn’t make sense to them.

“I miss Jo,” Meg said.

“I miss them all,” Hailey agreed, her paintbrush going still, only ‘congrats’ coloured.

“So do I. But I’m still angry,” Kelsey admitted. “And I want to be better than them,”

“We are. Being here. Bearing witness to this…” Ev assured her.

“Can you imagine how not normal Jo would have been about Eddie’s teeth?” Meg laughed.

The coven giggled, then continued their snappy back-and-forth conversation while they waited. They speculated about guest lists. The humans? Probably. Cyprian the fae and Randy the wolf? Maybe. What remained of the Catskills coven? Unlikely. And what of tradition? Would the rings be passed from guest to guest, filling with love and best wishes? Handfasting?

When they ran out of things to place bets on, they tried to wring details from Mel about her sessions with Eddie and his mother. Though she was not sworn to secrecy, she already felt she was imposing on their privacy by being in the room. It was better when you were there. Eddie was happier and his mother was brighter. Both metaphorically and physically. The other witches were dying to know what happened during those tender and tragic moments, not realising that each of them had formed a personal and unique relationship with Eddie too.

Kels and Eddie felt like old friends, which of course, they were. They were as comfortable as siblings, which meant Eddie often gravitated toward her house when he was bored. When bickering, they’d refer to each other as Edward and Fern. You watched them playfight like puppies left alone.

Ev’s affinity for darkness lent itself to Eddie’s more nefarious side. She was his armorer and revelled in his stories of justice served. Hailey and Eddie had a two-person book club. Meg was teaching him how to cook and bake all of your favourites. And Ash, once she found out Eddie already knew how to sew, roped him into other textile crafts.

Kelsey looked down at the journal in her hands. The story of you and Eddie. She would write it all down. The lonely vampire. The little witch. The grief and betrayal. The bed of yarrow. The love, the love, oh, the love. Maybe, one day, you’d be gifted the book. Maybe not. Kelsey wasn’t sure how it all ended just yet. As she sat with her sisters, preparing for a party, she was only sure that you were all exactly where you were meant to be.

…

The January sunrise filtered through the flatlands. Rainbows refracted off snowflakes. The tips of your boots were already soaking through and it almost hurt to breathe. About halfway to the woods, Eddie had become a makeshift blindfold, hands covering your eyes, swearing that braving the cold would be worth it.

“Is this what you and Mel have been up to? Did you make a new gate or something?”

“You’ll see,” was all he’d say.

Are we going to breakfast with the foxes? That’d be nice.

Is there another bat that needs saving out here?

If you want to build a tree house, Kels is really who you should be waking up.

Did you find another mushroom circle and need me to identify if it’s fae or not?

You’ll see. You’ll see. You’ll see.

Then, you did.

“Okay… Open!”

Eddie’s hands left your face.

There, a structure. Not really a building. Something else. A dome. As tall as a house with a matching circumference.

“What…”

A dome that appeared to be solid. It had an opaque, matte coating. The harder you looked at it, the less you could tell if the trees were growing through it or if they’d been cut to shape. The dome shimmered, like a reflection on water. Like it wasn’t made to be looked at. Like it was offended at the mere thought of being looked at.

You took tentative steps towards it. Slowly, carefully, you reached out to touch the dome. It was hard. Real. And… warm?

Turning back to Eddie, he was watching you carefully.

“You win. I have no idea what this is,” you admitted.

With his best strut, Eddie walked by and knocked on the dome three times. A slit in the surface appeared. A door, ajar.

“After you,” Eddie invited.

You let the heat emanating from the dome pull you inside.

It was bright; you had no trouble seeing, but your brain was still struggling to process the information your senses were providing.

The shape of the dome had completely disappeared. You would have not known you were inside at all, if it weren’t for the snow and leaves falling, hitting something invisible above and around you, then sliding around it. Touching the wall, it still felt solid and hard, even if you couldn’t see it.

“It’s like… like a reverse snow globe…” you marvelled.

The air inside was warm and still, cut off from whatever was happening in the world. The dome muffled the sounds outside too. It wasn’t silent, but the whistling wind was muted into comforting white noise.

Eddie had followed you inside, clicking the door that could only be opened and closed by him into place. The magic in the spell was linked to Eddie. That meant it wouldn’t last forever, Mel had warned him. It would serve a purpose, then fade away.

Eddie didn’t need the dome forever, only a moment. You were his forever. If all went well.

You’d started to rub your hands over the warm grass and dry bark of the trees. They hadn’t been touched by the snow in days, you figured. They’d shaken winter off in the greenhouse environment.

Eddie had to say your name three times to pull your attention to him. He folded himself down onto the ground next to you.

“This is beautiful… This is what you and Mel were doing out here?” you asked, too in awe of the dome to see the beautiful determination on Eddie’s face.

He nodded, reaching out to catch your chin in his hand, gently redirecting your gaze to him. “My little witch…”

Your joy gave way to curiosity. Whatever he was doing, he’d not done it before.

“My love… I am the last of my kind at what feels like the beginning of my life; an endling, with no right to start something. But I defy that. Like I have defied… everything my life and death dared offer. Until you.”

There was something in his tone that had an immediate effect on you. Your nose tingled and your eyes stung. Eddie’s choice of words dipped back into the sixteenth century when he was most serious. He lost the carefree cadence of the 1980s.

“I have loved you from the moment I saw you. I love you more every single time I see you. Blood of my blood. Body of my body. Soul of my soul.”

The gravity of the moment got caught in your throat. It was with dizzying clarity you reached out for Eddie, for stability. He took your hands and tangled his fingers between yours.

“I was born for nothing but this, but I would live it all again if it brought me to you. The agony of life and the loneliness of death. The void of a hex. I would do it all again and again if it kept me on a pathway to you.”

You were cemented still in the darkness of his eyes. Jaw clenched, breath still, mouth dry. Something smelt of yarrow and apple, though you were not of the mindset to find the source. More than likely, there wasn’t one at all.

“My little witch, all that I have is yours. All that I am, I give freely. Would you seal my fate and bless me with your hand in marriage?”

End note: 92,965 words and we have come to the end of our story. I have been writing this for over a year and have poured so, so much time, love, energy, and commitment into it. So much of my soul is in these pages.

Whatever you came for - entertainment, escapism, Eddie, witchcraft, company, love - I hope you found in Burning Yarrow.

I would deeply appreciate to hear from you. Even if you can't quantify or consolidate your feelings into words, just a little note to let me know that this project has meant something to someone other than me.

Finally, thank you to the real life Kelsey/Kelso @toomanyacorns and real life Mel @kookygranger for the historical knowledge and witchy inspiration. And to all the other women who snuck their way into this world. I love you all!

Until next story... xo Rhi

P.S. The Grimoire and timeline Tumblr posts are complete.

P.P.S. Thank you to the following freaks for helping me think of weird shit for Eddie to do in chapter 31: @jo-harrington @myosotisa @bettyfrommars @mopeymopeymouse @munson-blurbs

Fic Taglist:  @paranoidmunson  @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03 

@pastel-pillows @moviefreak1205 @awkward00noodle

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner

[ke0mara]

BLOOD LIKE POISON (III)- LEGACIES

Summary: Faith Mikaelson has always felt different from her sister. She felt as if there was ominous inside of her that she was sure Hope didn't feel. After losing their parents the two siblings became a lot closer. Whether it was the fact that they didn't want to risk losing each other as well or because they realized that they only had each other left, they did everything they could to protect each other. But things get a lot more difficult when a creature named Malivore starts sending monsters to the Salvator boarding school which forces the students to fight the monsters in order to protect themselves. During this inevitable battle, Faith finds someone who she ends up making an unexpected connection with and she finds out that she may not be as alone as she originally thinks.

wc: 4.4k

"ALRIGHT GATHER TOGETHER," Dorian said during one of their classes. Everyone then joined hands. Faith was to Josie's left, while Lizzie was to her right. Hope was two seats down from her sister's left. "Chain spells are about the fluid movement of energy from one witch to witch. Where's Penelope Park?" Dorian asked stopping in between Lizzie and Josie.

"Um, lady cramps, Mr. Williams," Lizzie told him making Faith smirk in amusement.

"Sorry, I asked." He said before continuing his teaching. "A disharmonious group makes for an uneven flow." Some people tried to stifle their laughter at the unintended joke, but failed; including Faith, Lizzie, and Josie. Hope just rolled her eyes at their childish behavior. "Okay..." Then a letter flew in and Dorian grabbed it.

"Uh-oh, who's in trouble with the headmaster?" Josie asked.

"Probably the people who started a rumble with the local high school," Hope said giving Lizzie a look.

"Well, we did do something bad too, Hope," Faith whispered leaning closer to her sister to not be heard by Lizzie and Josie. Hope rolled her eyes muttering something under her breath.

"Lizzie Saltzman, Josie Saltzman. And babies make four." Dorian told them reading the letter. "Off you go." The girls give each other a confused look.

—

"THIS MAKES NO SENSE DAD. Why are we being punished?" Lizzie asked irritated as they followed Alaric through the library.

"Because you started a brawl at a charity football game that risked exposing what we really do here," Alaric explained.

"Well, you weren't mad last night," Lizzie argued.

"I was mad last night. My undying love for my daughters just happened to trump my rage. I volunteered everyone in the game, so stop complaining." Alaric said as they stopped walking. "You're lucky that it's just community service and not actual jail time."

"Can I at least offer my rebuttal in my defense, if it pleases the court?" Lizzie asked dramatically. Alaric crosses his arms but listens. "First of all, I was provoked. My response was totally proportional considering the levels of abuse I was forced to endure." Hope chuckled in amusement at what she was saying. "And secondly... if anyone should take the blame, it's Josie." She finished making Josie give her an incredulous look as did Faith.

"What?" Josie questioned, betrayal written on her face.

"I'm sorry. I totally cracked under the cross, but if you had just let Kaleb catch the ball—"

"You'd still be in trouble," Alaric said breaking up their bickering.

"But nice job throwing your sister under the bus," Hope said.

"Yeah, Lizzie not cool." Faith agreed.

"Thank you, Hope and Faith," Josie said thanking the girls for defending her. Though that thanks was mostly directed at Hope considering she never defends Josie. But Faith would always defend Josie no matter what and she knew this. Faith would always defend Lizzie too, but in this case, she was the one in the wrong. Lizzie gave a shocked look to Josie at her thanking Hope.

"Speaking of, the bus leaves in ten minutes, and I expect all four of you to be on it working together today, harmoniously and without drama," Alaric told them sternly. "End of debate."

"We weren't even at the game. Why are we being punished?" Hope asked. Faith already knew what they were in trouble for.

"You two know what you did," Alaric said giving the girls a look. "Alright, now, go, all of you. Come on. Faith you wait here I have something to give you." Alaric said pointing to Faith. Josie and Lizzie left but not before giving Faith a questioning gaze. She just shrugged in response not knowing what Alaric needed from her either.

"Seriously?" Hope questioned Alaric.

"What part of what I said needs translating?"

"I want to help you with research."

"Dorian has a master's degree in library science," Alaric said, while Faith just waited patiently. "I think the adults have it covered."

"That's not fair," Hope said walking closer to Alaric. "You only play by the grown-up rules when you don't need something from me."

"Hope, seriously, it's the least we can do after what we did with Landon," Faith said looking at her sister.

"I am spinning right now, Hope. And I can't drag you or anyone else any further into this until I figure out what's going on, okay?" Alaric said. "So right now, I need you to be a kid keeping a dragon-sized secret today until I get some answers." Hope gave him an incredulous look. "Understood?"

"Yeah. Fine." Hope said reluctantly. Alaric then turned to Faith and walked over to her. He placed something in her hands. Faith looked down and saw a small bag with something inside it. She opened it to see the calming herbs she used to take to help keep her anger and sadness in control.

"I don't... need these anymore," Faith said looking up at him.

"Faith, just in case, take them. Okay?" Alaric asked. Faith thought about it and nodded muttering an 'okay' before taking off to leave with her sister. She put the bag with the herbs in her pocket, making a mental note to store them in her room later for safekeeping.

"Make sure you take those," Hope told her sister continuing to look straight ahead while they were walking to the bus.

"I know, I will," Faith said reassuring her sister.

—

"SO WHAT DID YOU GUYS DO?" Lizzie asked as they were getting out of the bus. "My dad never gets mad at you guys. You're the prodigal daughters." Lizzie said bitterly making Faith slightly roll her eyes. "Must have been juicy." The girls got off the bus.

"Sorry, no time for girl talk. Public service awaits." Hope replied bluntly.

"Alright, listen up." Dorian starts. "It's a beautiful day. You have options: litter, weeds, graffiti. Your choice." He finished, handing Kaleb a trash grabber. He snatched it from Dorian reluctantly.

"It's bad enough we get punished while the humans get a pass, but there ain't no way in hell I'm picking up their garbage," Kaleb said trying to hand Lizzie the trash grabber she put her hands up.

"Uh, I don't do trash either," Lizzie said.

"I love trash, as of this moment," Hope said grabbing the trash grabber she then turned to her sister. "Faith, join me?" Faith nodded grabbing the same device Hope had from Dorian, and they both started to walk away.

"Perf. It suits you, Hope." Lizzie said making Faith and Hope turn around and glare at her. "Looks like we're scrubbing paint today," Lizzie told her sister.

"Dad told us to work together, okay, harmoniously," Josie argued.

"Yeah, and he also said without drama, and I am feeling a rage attack coming on, so I will be remaining drama-free over by that wall of graffiti," Lizzie said. "Are you coming or not?"

"I don't know, Lizzie, is there another bus you want to throw me under?" Josie asked rhetorically walking away and to the opposite side of Lizzie, while Hope and Faith watched their interaction.

"Fine, Daddy's girls," Lizzie said bitterly making Hope smirk a little. "Anyone else?" They then started to walk in the opposite direction towards the graffiti wall. "Get the lead out MG." MG walked off turning and giving Josie, Faith, and Hope an apologetic look before leaving again with everyone else but the three girls. Josie and Faith sighed.

—

AFTER A WHILE OF PICKING UP TRASH Hope spoke up,

"You have a future in waste management." She said with a small smile.

"Cleaning up messes is kind of my thing," Josie replied. Faith understood what she meant. Lizzie makes big messes when she's feeling very strong emotions and needs a release. Faith and Josie occasionally help her get through it and clean up the mess together.

"Well, your sister is kind of a dumpster fire," Hope said.

"Seriously, Hope?" Faith questioned. "At least make an attempt to be polite."

"Why do you always pick fights?" Josie asked her. "We've known each other a decade and any time you have the chance, you poke. Faith doesn't, so why do you?"

"You guys do your fair share of poking," Hope said annoyed.

"Yeah, in retaliation to your pokes," Josie explained. "And with you spending so much time with my dad and keeping secrets..."

"We're not keeping secrets." Hope and Faith said at the same time.

"Oh, yeah? What happened when you went to go find Landon Kirby? And Faith what did my dad give you when we left? It must've been important if he didn't want to give it to you in front of the rest of us." Hope and Faith started walking faster in a different direction hoping to evade the girl's questions.

"Nothing happened," Hope replied.

"Nothing important." Faith retorted at the same time as her sister.

"Something clearly did happen. Rafael never showed up at school, Faith, you haven't talked to us since you've been back, and my dad was rattled, so why won't you just tell me?"

"Because there's nothing to tell. Aah!" Faith looked at her sister to see she stabbed herself in the foot with the trash grabber she then grimaced and walked over to her.

"Oh, my god," Josie exclaimed seeing what happened.

"Aah! Ow," Hope said with a look of pain.

"Are you okay? I mean, what should I do?" Josie asked crouching down beside Hope's foot.

"Let's just help her pull it out," Faith told Josie.

"What?" Josie questioned in disbelief.

"I can heal myself. Pull it out." Hope ordered. Josie then started to pull it out with both hands grunting in struggle; Hope wincing in pain, but she still couldn't seem to pull it all the way.

"Move over," Faith ordered Josie. She moved out of the way and Faith stood in front of her sister pulling the object out easily with one hand.

"Ow!"

"You poked yourself," Josie told Hope with a large smile. Then all three girls burst into laughter.

"Shut up," Hope said still chuckling.

—

AFTER A WHILE WHEN THE GIRLS FILLED THEIR garbage bags they started stacking them on top of each other. All of a sudden Josie clutched her stomach and doubled over in pain groaning.

"You ok, Jo?" Faith asked worriedly.

"Yeah, everything ok?" Hope asked sounding concerned as well.

"Yeah, I just think that that's making me a little nauseous," Josie answered looking behind Faith and Hope making them turn their heads to see M.G. making out with Dana.

"Huh," Hope muttered. "Didn't see that coming."

"Gross." Faith mumbled scrunching up her nose.

"It's simple math. M.G. has the hormones of a teenager and the impulse control of a preschooler." Josie explained making Hope chuckle. "He also always goes for the wrong kinds of girls."

"Given my last crush, I can't judge," Hope said as they began walking.

"Well, my last crush was actually Satan incarnate," Josie said and Faith vigorously nodded making Hope chuckle. "That is, I guess unless you count..." Josie trailed off.

"Who?" Hope inquired. Faith knew she meant Rafael. Josie looked to Faith who just shrugged as if to say 'you decide if you want to tell her'.

"Never mind. It really doesn't matter anymore." Josie dismissed. "Lizzie has dibs."

"Dibs?" Hope questioned. "On Rafael? She always calls dibs. When's it gonna be your turn?"

"It just is what it is," Josie muttered. Faith stayed quiet agreeing with what Hope was saying. Lizzie did always call dibs on boys and that wasn't really fair on Josie considering she never got a chance to see if she liked anyone.

"Right, well, that doesn't really make it right." Hope stated causing Josie to stop walking and give her a look. Hope and Faith stopped walking too. "Your dad knows we used black magic. That's why we're in trouble." Hope half-lied purposefully leaving out the part about Landon and the death spell. "Don't worry we didn't tell him that you helped us with the spell." Hope quickly added.

"Thank you," Josie said looking at both Hope and Faith.

"No need for thanks, Josie." Faith said with a small smile.

"And Landon and Rafael took off together," Hope said. " Landon told me he didn't know why he stole the knife. But then he lied about having it, so I don't know what to believe. Then he wrote me and Faith these letters and mine was... I don't know, sweet."

"Lizzie's... sensitive." Josie started wanting to open up to Hope as she did with her. "Our mom is going on these really long recruitment missions recently. That's why she's extra testy. She just really misses her."

"We know the feeling," Hope spoke softly with a small smile glancing at Faith.

"Yeah." Faith spoke just as softly giving her sister a sad smile. Hope started walking again and Faith and Josie followed.

"I remember how your mom used to come by the school. We all used to say how beautiful she was." Josie said.

"She was," Faith said.

"Yeah." Hope agreed.

"We really should have sent you flowers or something, Hope," Josie said guiltily.

"Huh?" Faith questioned in confusion. "But I thought that you gave her a gift too," Faith said remembering how kind and comforting Lizzie and Josie were to her, and the flowers they gave her which were her favorite; Cherry Blossoms, and a gift basket. Then she remembered her sister getting flowers from them too. Josie looked at her with the same guilty expression as before shifting her gaze to the ground.

"They did," Hope told her sister referring to Josie and Lizzie. "Your dad signed your names. It was obvious." Faith understood that they gave her something but not Hope and she couldn't help but wonder if that was Lizzie's idea.

"Okay. We definitely deserve a little bit of poking." Josie said making Hope laugh. "I wonder where the boys are right now."

"There's this spell that our Aunt Freya taught us," Hope said looking at Faith. "It's kind of like a full-immersion video chat."

"Oh. That spell." Faith said in realization.

"Okay, but don't we need something of Landon's to..." Josie trailed off as Hope pulled out Landon's letter. "Is that the letter?" Josie asked.

"You can't tell your dad," Hope said.

"Yeah..." Faith told her. "They don't teach this in school."

Josie nodded and smiled. "This is the kind of secret that I can get behind." Hope smiled while Faith smirked. The three started performing the spell joining hands. Josie siphoned from Hope and Faith. Hope and Faith were able to see Landon and Rafael in the woods and Landon spotted them with a look of confusion on his face.

"Hope? Faith?" He questioned. They gave him a small smile before the scene in front of them disappeared and they were back with Josie who bent over and held her stomach in pain again. Faith looked at her worried and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Jo," Faith began. "What's wrong?" 

"This is twin pain. Somethings wrong. I think Lizzie's in trouble." Josie grunted out. Faith looked at Hope with a worried expression.

"Let's go tell Dorian." Faith suggested earning nods from the girls. They went to find Dorian who was sitting at a table. "We need to leave."

"I'm sorry, I can't let you leave," Dorian said.

"No, I need to go home to see my sister," Josie said firmly.

"Your dad's with your sister. And I'm under strict orders to keep you here." Dorian told them.

"What? Why?" Josie asked.

"Yeah, what are you keeping us here for?" Faith added.

"And why are you researching that?" Hope questioned looking at Dorian's book that was open to a page about gargoyles. Dorian quickly closed his book with a sigh and told us what happened with Lizzie.

—

THEY LEFT AND WENT BACK to the Salvatore Boarding school when they entered Josie called, "Lizzie?"

"I'll check the library," Hope said.

"Yeah, I'll go too," Faith offered. Hope nodded at her and they left to check the library. They were in complete silence until a voice spoke from behind scaring them.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Ah!"

"Oh, my god." The two girls yelped in fear.

"You scared us." Faith said breathing out a breath of relief when she saw Alaric there.

"Dorian was supposed to keep you away," Alaric said.

"He tried. He lost," Faith told him. "But here. Killing gargoyles 101. He thought you could translate it." She said giving the book to Alaric.

"Gaulish. Son of a..." Alaric trailed off. Hope and Faith gave him questioning looks before he looked back down to the book.

"So are we on our own, or did the Gauls provide clear instructions?" Hope asked impatiently.

"In a nutshell, it says hit hard, repeat as needed," Alaric replied before they heard the Gargoyle let out a roar.

"Is that...?" Faith inquired referring to the Gargoyle.

"Yeah," Alaric said. "Listen, it poisoned Lizzie. I'm guessing to get my attention. Then it attacked me and took the knife."

"The knife? The dragon knife?" Hope asked incredulously.

"And you're still breathing?" Faith added.

"Oh, I have a theory about that," Alaric mumbled.

"Well, save it," Hope started. "Because we had to take down that containment spell to get inside the school, meaning our monster can get out."

"A containment spell?" Alaric asked. Faith nodded. "Lizzie wanted to make sure whatever attacked her didn't escape into the world. Good girl." Alaric walked over to a table and put the book down. "Alright, well, guess we better find it," He said picking up an axe. "Before it makes the evening news. So how'd you guys take the containment spell down?" 

Before Hope or Faith had the chance to speak a voice did, "They didn't," Josie spoke up walking towards them. "I did. And I have questions." She grabbed the axe from Alaric.

—

ALARIC, HOPE, FAITH, AND JOSIE walked into a room in search of Emma

"Emma?" Alaric called. "Emma." Emma opened the door in front of them and put a finger to her lips in a 'be quiet' motion. They all heard heavy footsteps and growling so they turned their heads to see the Gargoyle at the top of the steps. It opened its wings and let out a growl before flying down the steps and lunging at Hope making her fall down. It was going to stab her with the knife. Faith quickly leaps forward about to help her sister but Alaric is closer and quicker and jumps in front of Hope.

"Dad!" Josie shouted.

"No!" The Gargoyle stopped its movements; the knife being inches away from Alaric's chest.

Faith held her hand out to Hope who quickly took it pulling herself up while they all stared in shock at what was happening before their eyes. Josie moves as quietly as possible behind the Gargoyle before striking it with the sword making it let out a shriek. It angrily turns toward Josie about to attack her but Alaric hits it with his axe.

"Fluctus inpulsa." Hope chants causing the Gargoyle to drop the knife. "Faith, Josie, help me." She orders. Faith and Josie quickly walk over to her and they join hands; Josie in between Faith and Hope.

"How?" Josie asked.

"Just repeat after me," Hope said.

"Got it," Faith replied.

"Fluctus impulsa." Hope started. Faith and Josie quickly repeated after. "Fluctus inpulss. Flucus inpulsa. Flucus inpulsa. Flucus inpulsa. Flucus inpulsa. Flucus inpulsa." They finished which made the Gargoyle burst into small rocks. They let go of their hands.

"Nice job." Hope threw over her shoulder to all of them.

"How could you jump in front of her like that?" Josie demanded with tears in her eyes. "You could have died, Dad."

"Honey, I knew it wouldn't kill me, because my research said so," Alaric said. Josie stormed away.

—

"HOW'S LIZZIE?" FAITH ASKED WORRIEDLY.

"Recovering quickly, thanks to her sister."

"So, how did you know the Gargoyle wouldn't kill you?" Hope asked.

"Gargoyles are protectors," Alaric answered. "And folklore tells a tale of a Gargoyle who once protected a small settlement in France whose villagers revered a powerful relic. A knife."

"Our knife?" Faith questioned.

"As the story goes, the Gargoyle loved the humans he protected so much, he vowed never to harm humanity." He explained. "Instead, he chose to fight evil on their behalf."

"Us being the evil ones in this scenario," Hope asked referring to her and her sister. "Josie, Lizzie." She continued.

"In its mind, yes," Alaric said. "I realized when it didn't hurt me before... it saw me as the one who needed protection."

"I'm not sure that knowing that will make them feel any better." Faith spoke up.

"I should get back to the girls," Alaric muttered walking towards the door.

"Wait." Hope stopped him. "One more thing. You're always telling us that we need to work together. To put our own feelings aside for the school, and for the community. I know I haven't always listened to you with that kind of stuff, but I'm starting to think that it's actually pretty good advice, so... maybe you should take it. Because if you want me and the twins to get along, for them to be happy, for the school to be safe... These secrets are gonna tear us all apart."

"She's right." Faith agreed. "Everyone deserves to know what's happening so they can protect themselves. Be prepared for whatever's coming through those doors next." Alaric looked to be deep in thought about what they were telling him.

—

"IF YOU'D ASKED ME A WEEK AGO..." Alaric started at the assembly they were having. "I would have told you I knew the difference between myth and fact. I would have said that supernaturals were limited to the species under this roof. I would have said that folklore and fairytales were just stories. But I can no longer say that any of that's true. 'Cause just a few days ago, we were confronted by the existence of a dragon." Murmurs spread throughout the room. "And then, today, our campus was terrorized by a Gargoyle come to life. Some of us... were forced to fight. We won. This time. They were drawn here by a knife that went missing earlier this week. And for whatever reason, these creatures consider us to be the enemy. In their minds were the villains because we wouldn't give them what they wanted. We don't even know why they want it. But we're gonna find out. I can't say for sure what their true intentions are. I can't say there won't be more attacks. That's why I'm telling you this. To warn you. To ask you to look out for each other. To do what's best for one another. Because we're more than just a school. We're family. And we will stand together, we will fight together, and we will win or lose this battle together, no matter what comes next."

—

FAITH KNOCKED ON THE DOOR TO JOSIE and Lizzie's room. Lizzie opened it and smiled when she Faith.

"I need to talk to you guys about something." Faith stated walking into the dorm.

"What is it," Josie asked sitting up on her bed and patting the space beside her inviting Faith to sit down. Lizzie sat on the other side of Josie,

"Well, it's about why I've kinda been avoiding you," Faith started when she saw their full attention on her she continued. "Well... It happened again. I—I lost control and it happened." Josie and Lizzie gave each other a look knowing what she was talking about.

"Oh, Faith," Lizzie muttered softly.

"Why do you think it happened? After all this time?" Josie asked.

Faith shrugged, "I don't know. But your dad gave me those herbs that might help it again."

"Why didn't you tell us?' Lizzie asked.

"Well, I guess I was just sort of embarrassed about it," Faith said sheepishly. "I mean I thought it was getting better and for it to just come out of nowhere like this. No one else has this problem, so I felt weak in a way. Like I was too weak to be able to handle my emotions properly that they just ended up spiraling out of control and consuming me." Faith sighed.

"Listen, Faith, you don't have to be embarrassed about it, and you're not weak. You're the strongest person I know. Even after everything you've been through you still keep that same bright smile on your face and I envy you for that. Being able to overcome the pain just to make others and yourself smile." Josie told her. "Believe it or not but you're pretty awesome to be able to do that."

"She's right, Faith, and you're like a sister to us— you are a sister to us. So you should never feel the need to hide these types of things from us. Because we will always be by your side there to listen." Lizzie added with a smile. Faith smiled softly as well very appreciative of Josie and Lizzie. Her heart warming in her chest. They truly were great, and she didn't know what she would do without them.

"Now how about we talk about—" Lizzie spoke suddenly.

Faith groaned and quickly stood up walking towards the door. "No!"

"Oh, Faith come back!" Lizzie pleaded. "You don't even know what I was gonna say!"

"Yes, I do. I know you well enough to know that you were gonna say 'let's talk about boys'. You know what Lizzie? I'm actually really tired." Faith said stopping by the door. She looked to Josie who had a slight smile on her face. She knew that if she left the conversation like this Lizzie would want to talk about boys with Josie which would be awkward since she has a crush on Rafael. "Aren't you tired, Josie?" Josie looked confused for a moment but eventually caught on.

"Yeah—yeah, I am," She mumbled quickly.

"But—" Lizzie started.

"Big spell today," Faith cut Lizzie off. "Takes a lot outta ya'."

"Yeah, it really does." Josie faked a yawn.

"Oh, come on I'm the one who almost died!" Lizzie exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Then you must be super fatigued too. Goodnight, Liz," Faith said ignoring Lizzie's protest. "Night, Jo. Don't keep Josie up Lizzie! Remember she did help save your life so she needs all the sleep she can get to replenish herself." She then walked out of the door and to her and Hope's dorm for some shut-eye.

Link for story on Wattpad:

[popitdontdropitwrites]

"Mercy" Engineer/Medic

Summary: Medic has an unhealthy fascination with Engineer's prosthesis and calls him into the infirmary to perform a thorough examination of it. Ludwig goads him into giving him a taste of exactly what the gunslinger is capable of, despite Dell's initial reservations.

Words: ~2900

CW: Blood, graphic gore, injury, madness, eye trauma, dead dove do not eat, dark romance, sadism, masochism, graphic description, dark.

Titled after KiNG MALA's 'Mercy', which you can listen to here

Madness ran amok in these walls.

The paint, once white, pristine, and smooth to the touch, had cracked and peeled under the unrelenting, obsessive cleanliness of the doctor, unable to bear his abuse any longer. Though the blood and entrails had long been scrubbed from the surface, old, pungent blood had soaked all the way through the splintering, rotten wood and into the very heart of this place like an unseen poison, leaving delirium and mania behind in the fallout. The sordid, stifling air laden with chemical scents did well to mask the decay beneath the skin, casting images of hospitals and wards, though it felt uncanny here, made worse by the infirmary’s sinister smile of sharpened medical equipment, matching that of their owner.

The strange face of this place was often more than enough to put off most of its potential visitors, mostly due to the madman who resided behind its doors. Regardless of what one needed, be it something as little as an aspirin, or as major as getting a leg sown back on, this place was the very last option on the list. But the Engineer had been lured right into the doctor’s maw by a single set of beautiful words spoken from freshly licked lips.

“Your prosthesis,” The Medic had said, his azure eyes fixated upon the metal, his irises nearly glowing with fascination, as if he had just been presented with a new toy. “May I have a look at it?”

And well… if those weren’t just the sweetest words he’d ever heard.

The doctor eased the glove off from his prosthetic hand without even a hint of the fearful hesitation Dell had grown used to. Instead of paling in the face and averting his eyes, he nursed it in his hand, feeling along every segment of his sleek, elegant digits, flexing each backwards and forwards, exploring their full, masterful range of movement. He explored every revolutionary feature with the respect his work deserved, muttering and murmuring praise after praise under his breath. There was a giddiness to his expression, the kind that bordered on being a threat and if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up strapped down to the fella’s operating table.

"Don't give me that look..." Medic tsked. "I am not going to subject you to any impromptu experiments, that is, unless you would like to be." He gestured to the vast array of medical equipment. "I am very content with examining this hand of yours... for now." He gave him a cheeky wink, which again, came off as a little menacing.

“With you, ‘for now’ ain’t that long. You’ll be bored of this pretty little thing in a couple minutes or less.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This will entertain me for days. I will lie awake tonight, thinking of how to improve it.” He replied. “And before that, I need to understand it completely.” He curled the fingers inwards, so that they touched his palm. "How about we begin with a simple exercise? Show me what your gunslinger is capable of, bitte."

Dell rotated his prosthesis completely with staggering fluidity, shamelessly flaunting his machine to the Medic. No words had to be said, for the polished, thoroughly loved device spoke for itself as it was pushed far beyond human limits. Ludwig grinned with only the slightest hint of malice in his smile, the rest, however, was adoration, pure and simple, like milk and honey. There was an innocence to it, genuineness, sweetness, even. He almost looked like a different man while wearing it – perhaps the man he used to be before all of this.

“Gott... it's brilliant.” Ludwig said, in awe of the complex level of movement this machine was capable of. “Can it still function to its full capacity while upside down? Would it support additional digits? Are the fingers retractable?” He asked, sending out a flurry of questions, all of which made Dell smile with pride.

“It does a heck of a lot more than just that, doc.” Dell said, unable to contain himself around a man who shared his passion. “Y’see, I originally intended for it to act like a regular hand, but I figured it’d be a waste not to have it double as some power tools for when I’m puttin’ machines together.”

With the push of a button, the metal seamlessly morphed into an intricate tool and though the lifeless flesh couldn’t detect the warmth of Ludwig’s hands, it sensed the fluttery pressure of every reverent touch. The beautiful stranger before him smiled without the touch of madness that revealed his gums and every inch of his straightened teeth, making him wonder who this echo of the past was and more tragically, where he had gone.

A storm of lovestruck butterflies twirled and danced with one another in the depths of his guts, seduced by the dangerous allure of this old, undying longing for someone who no longer existed. Despite knowing better, he still ached to reach out to Ludwig, to clasp his hands and save him from the crazed monster living in his skin. Save. That word, so innocent in principle and yet, more often than not, horrific in execution. It was the beginning of all catastrophes, of all terror, of all destruction – a contract of blood and misery, written by the most well-intentioned hands.

But not even that dire warning could stop him from thinking that dangerous thought.

Could he be saved?

Dell didn’t have an answer. Humans, unfortunately for him, were not as clear cut as his machines. If he’d been presented with a broken down, malfunctioning automaton, he’d be already elbow deep in its innards, fixing the problem. But he didn’t do that sort of thing with living, breathing things, especially not with men like the Medic. It was… too much for him nowadays.

By the time he’d snapped back into reality, Ludwig had switched his gunslinger between about a dozen different power tools, his pokes and prods hastening out of a hunger to know more. “I can only imagine what powerful weapons you have attached to this incredible device… the possibilities!”

And just like that, that beautiful stranger was gone again, lost in the spiralling, all-consuming void of megalomania, far beyond his reach. Maybe he’d surface again soon, but for now, he’d been thrown beneath the cloying, murky waters to drown – which he never truly did. Dell understood, he’d nearly succumbed to the pull of the waves once, seduced into the muck by the glowing spark of ambition and power beneath its terrible current.

“…Naw, sorry son, no weapons are in this clever little thing.”

“Oh,” His face fell. “Why not? I think a decent knife or two would be a welcome addition to your collection of tools.”

“Ludwig, buddy, I understand all the blood and guts is your cup of tea an’ all, but it ain’t mine, y’know? I’d rather sit back and have a sentry do it on my behalf. It’s a lot… cleaner that way.”

The Medic held his eye, forcing him to gaze into the vistas of cerulean evil and deeper yet, into the darkness of his pupils, the windows to his old, forsaken friend; madness itself. “You are not normally one to care for cleanliness.” He remarked, a scepticism in his gaze. He leant in close, his thumb wiping a smear of engine grease from his cheek. “I would go as far as to say you don’t have any regard for it at all.” He showed him the consequent black smudge on his skin, catching him in his lie. “After all, blood, and oil… they’re one and the same to you… well… not quite. One is simply a cheap facsimile of the other.”

“The hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

He chuckled darkly, a smirk toying with the corners of his lips. “Playing dumb does not suit you at all, my friend. You know exactly what I am getting at.” He clasped his hands together, squeezing just a little, as if to crush this topic before it bored him. “Now, there is something else I would like to test.”

“What do you want me to do, doc?” He asked, his tone making him just a little nervous. He wasn’t exactly used to this kind of attention either. The doctor seemed to be utterly obsessed with his prosthesis, even after toying with it for god knows how long. Most could hardly bear to look at it.

“Oh, it’s rather simple, actually.” Ludwig said casually, gesturing towards his face. “I want you to hit me.”

He stared at him for a moment, mortified. He frantically shook his head, outright refusing his request. “I couldn’t do that to ya in good conscience, doc. You didn’t do anythin’ to deserve it.” He bit his lip, looking at the shining tiles below, to avoid the crushing disappointment on the man’s face. “Plus… if I really went through with it and give ya a good punch, I’m afraid you’d be sufferin’ from a lot more than a black eye if ya know what I mean.”

“The medigun is right there…” Ludwig tempted, a hand cupping his chin and forcing him to meet his eyes. “I can take it. Every day, I am the enemy team’s number one target and needless to say, I have endured far worse than a robotic fist to the face.” He cracked his neck, looking at him straight on, offering his face to be demolished. It was a shame too, with his handsome mug. “Don’t be shy,” He whispered in his ear, attempting to coax him. “Hit me.”

“I… I can’t do that. Y’know I can’t.” He insisted, the falter in his voice giving away the rising conflict within him.

Ludwig put a finger to his lips. “Hush, there’s no need for that… no one is watching. No one will know. These lips are sealed, my friend. Or they will be when you tear my jaw off!” He laughed in a way he likely thought would relieve his stress, but it only did the opposite. He wanted to run from this lunatic, before he too, lost grasp of reality.

But just as he was thinking that Ludwig drew closer, backing him against the wall, preventing escape. “C’mon, doc, don’t do this to me.” The Engineer quietened, but maintained his steely gaze, attempting to appear formidable, despite how his strength crumbled under the Medic’s sinister smile.

“I’m only doing what’s best for you.” He crooned, his breaths insufferably loud from this distance, as if he were about to be bitten. “It pains me so much to watch you shun what you are.” He said caringly, in the same manner as a doting nurse. “I adored you, once. Now… it almost feels like an insult with how dull you’ve become.”

The sudden shift of tone sent an indescribable, confused mess of feelings through him, mostly because he knew it to be true. “The things I did back then, it was all a mistake, alright?” I’m lucky I stopped at my goddamned arm. Chasin’ immortality and power and godhood—” He needed to take a breath, feeling as though he were suffocating. “—It’s crazy, that’s what it is. I don’t care what it makes me now, because I did myself a favour by bein’ dull.” He spat his insult back at him, pretending as if it didn’t hurt him.

“Fear should not bind a man like you and you know it. Yet… you kneel to it anyway, terrified of your own potential.” He said, disdain seeping into his tone, making the words bitter. “Don’t you miss the sweet whispers in your ears, Dell?”

Dell tried in vain to turn away from him, to proclaim to him and the world that this wasn’t what he wanted, that he’d been cured, that he’d been saved. But he was lying to himself again, wasn’t he? There was no remedy for their disease, it was forever locked inside of them, narrowly hidden within cages of pleasantries and thin skins of normalcy, a hand’s breadth from unwinding into full, unbridled depravity. The doctor picked at his seams with masterful effortlessness until he inevitably fell apart, exposing the horrors lurking within him and waking the voices in the dark recesses of his mind.

Ludwig’s voice lowered to a low, impassioned rumble. “Would you be so kind as to disfigure me?”

Now in the colourful, obscene world he’d forced himself to forget, those words tasted sweet, like fruit of forbidden, delicious hedonism. He took in a deep breath and gave a final glance to the Medic’s features, taking a snapshot of his entire face before he rendered it an unrecognisable chunk of flesh, blood, and bones. He waited with a patient, but encouraging smile, one that was easy on the eyes, but soon wouldn’t be.

He squeezed the gunslinger into a tight fist and with a climactic hiss of steam, he swung his prosthesis, the collision of metal on flesh making an unspeakably satisfying crunch upon impact. Skin and muscle caved under his might, crumpling, and surrendering to the sheer force of the blow, the sight bringing a deep, rippling pleasure unlike any other. Bones shattered, cartilage snapped, blood vessels exploded, and teeth cracked in perfect, songlike harmony. Ludwig didn’t even get the chance to properly scream, for his vocal cords were damaged in an instant, only allowing an undignified wet gurgle out.

The Medic stumbled back, his jaw hanging lopsided on his face, as if it could fall off any moment, with threads of weblike flesh stubbornly holding it together, albeit with significant holes and tears providing a crude window into his misshapen mouth. Blood, saliva, and chunks of flesh dribbled from his broken, permanent smile, turning his porcelainlike teeth a rich, hypnotic red. His glasses hung crooked on what was left of his nose, the frame irreparably twisted, and the lenses shattered, with a burst eye hanging from one as if it were a noose, deflated as its fluids seeped into the mass of gore below. He rasped, sputtered, and wheezed, struggling to breathe through the pain and his new features, or more accurately, the lack thereof.

His eyes, both intact and mangled, met Dell’s own, like a river of liquid mercury flowing into a warm beryl sea, slowly poisoning all that lived within. An expression of dear, sincere love lied behind the pained, watery exterior. There was a layer of understanding to it, a celebration of who he had become in a single strike, only corroborated by Ludwig’s smothered, wettened laughter, the force of which sent splatters of poorly mixed blood, saliva, and gore from the hollows in his skin. But despite it all, it was a joyous sound, one of revelry and excitement, almost like an enthusiastic round of applause for the damage he’d done.

The Engineer had been foolish to think that this man had been sick and in need of saving from the merciless clutches of a disease. He had no need for the carcass of the man before this glorious, unbreakable creature. No, this disturbed, brilliant mind was already perfect, and together, they would bring about the end, one of their own design.  

The doctor’s partially blind eyes stared into the bloodied surface of the gunslinger, wordlessly asking if he’d be receiving mercy. Instead of raising his fist for another devastating blow, he wrapped his arm around the taller man, guiding him towards the Medigun. Ludwig walked on shaking legs, pumped full of adrenaline and almost falling before being caught by the strength of the same machine that had obliterated his flesh.

He was about to pull the lever when the Medic’s hands pulled him in with astonishing force, leaving him breathless as his lips met what had once been the other man’s mouth. He was kissed roughly, with wild, almost sickening intensity and he returned that passion, the blood and carnage only elevating the high. He embraced madness itself, losing himself in this heated, animalistic moment of decadence as the twisted fangs of their shared sickness sunk into them both, never to retreat again.

[themerchliing]

Okay, my thoughts on Shadow and Bone Season 2 are under the cut. This will focus mainly on Wylan and who he interacts with, so spoilers will absolutely be present.

S&B suffers from trying to cram too many characters and storylines into a measly 8 episodes. The show cuts corners and speedruns plots, relationships, and emotional impactful scenes that shouldn’t be rushed. I get why they’ve done this — they wanted to at least finish the trilogy this season because it’s unlikely they’re getting a third season.

Alina and her storyline aside — I hope you trilogy fans found something in there that gave you some amount of happiness / satisfaction — I’m here to talk about Wylan. I’ll start off by saying that Jack Wolfe? Killed it. He has the Wylan mannerisms down and the way he carries himself. He’s subtle in his performance while also having such wonderful expressions and movements. He has that nervous energy but is also quite eccentric. His body language gives off the impression that he's a traumatized young man who has suffered from abuse. It's not in your face or over-the-top, but you see it if you're paying attention. And I love that he played Wylan this way. Also, him playing the flute and piano? Fantastic. I love that they have a musically talented actor playing the role. Plus, a queer actor playing a queer character is amazing representation!

Let’s talk about Wesper. When I caught on to the hints they were dropping about how Wylan and Jesper might have hooked up before and Jesper somehow doesn’t remember, let me tell you, I was mad. Because that isn’t Wesper as we know it. I was about to just throw the whole show away, I’m not going to lie. @lannamused will tell you that I was like cancel the show now in our discord chat.

But I calmed down and, even when it was revealed that they had hooked up before, I heard it out. When Wylan said that he left first because he was afraid that was what Jesper was going to do (he uno-reversed it and that’s kind of iconic behavior) and then showed how hurt Jesper was by that, it gave the impression that this one night they had was actually more meaningful and both weren’t being entirely honest about how into each other they were. I think we can also applaud Jack and Kit’s acting choices for making that seem more believable.

Before we talk about Wesper, I want to talk about the random attempt at bringing up that Wylan couldn’t read. It was as if the writers were trying to cram it in last minute. It didn’t even make sense? The way Jesper messed up and then tried to correct himself made it seem like he already knew that Wylan couldn’t read and forgot, but then later he says he doesn’t know? But the way the writers wrote that scene was to have Wylan react as if he was pissed that Jesper forgot? If Jesper didn’t know, Wylan wouldn’t have asked what his forged name said on the passport. Wylan is very good at hiding his condition. He wouldn’t just draw attention to it like that. He’d do everything he could to avoid bringing it up and even change the subject or remove himself from the situation. Even if you think of it as being Wylan’s way of quietly bringing it up to Jesper so that they could start a discussion about his condition, it isn’t clear. There’s only so many gaps we as the audience can attempt to fill because of lazy writing and Wylan’s condition was made to seem like an afterthought.

So, yeah, that wasn’t cool.

Anyway, on to the Wesper scenes — Would I be lying if the kissing and cuddling scenes didn’t make my little Wesper heart freak out? Yeah! I was here for them! And like I said before, I think we can put that down to Jack and Kit being such good actors and having that amazing chemistry. Because that’s the thing, right? The chemistry is there. It’s there in spades. The writers and showrunners just didn’t want to show it because of time limitations. And by the time I’d seen all the episodes, I did end up buying their relationship (like a lot) especially after the whole poison scenario where they made up. That did really seal it for me and I came to realize that I can support Wesper existing this way.

Now to Wylan interacting with other characters who weren’t Jesper. It was fair for the amount of time there was. He got a few scenes with Kaz and the group as a whole. I kinda wanted more of Wylan and Kaz being the interesting duo they are, but I understand that there’s just too many characters and there’s no way to let all of them shine. He had some amazing moments when he did get the chance to be on screen. This is still Wylan early on in his development (even if they’ve completely remixed the Crows duology) and he isn’t yet confident to truly be himself (e.g. the talking back, the sassing Kaz, the petty side of him etc) but I imagine that they’re saving all that for the Crows spin-off the writers are so desperately hopeful for. I saw one of the writers tweet that she’d already written an episode that primarily focuses on Wylan: seen here.

Do I want a Crows spin-off to happen now? At first, I wasn't sure how it would work, but the ending is setting it up for the Ice Court heist. There’s a lot that happened this season that people might say should have been saved for the spin-off, but I get that they weren’t sure if they’d ever get that greenlit (and we still don’t know) so I understand that they wanted to give the fans some of those parts in case we never get them. So, when they bring in Jan Van Eck with the spin-off, that would lead to Wylan’s backstory! But no more rushing!!

So, I can accept the S&B show for what it is and the more time I spend thinking about it, the more I understand. I will take things from the show as canon such as Wylan’s habit of getting excited about different topics (like historical facts etc), him busking in the street with his flute, and only making the bomb for Kaz the first time because he was strapped for cash and barely had enough money to eat. Him being a miniature encyclopaedia and excitedly sharing random pieces of info with other characters was amazing, and I loved him nerding out over the butterfly and flowers. That scene was also good at showing that Wylan can admire something beautiful and rare but isn’t against killing the butterflies without a second thought if it means saving his friends. Also, it’s a small thing but they gave him goggles. That gets bonus points.

Please see this post on how Wylan's characterization and his relationship with Jesper will be handled on this blog. It will be a mix of book and show canon.

[thatstormygeek]

That's all I think it wise to say beyond that, as the story is still very much in flight, and there will be plenty of time to get the facts and figure out the shooter's political motivations and get down to the very important task of casting blame, while neglecting to recognize the clear context that there is an active political movement calling itself conservative, or Republican, or MAGA if you like, which is fully dedicated to forcing us to all live in a world of easy massacres and accelerating normalized political violence. It's our political violence party, and I'm told it is leading in the polls right now. I say "violence," because it involves abusing and harming and menacing and killing all of the rest of us. I say "political," because it involves seizing the apparatus of government to do it. Assassination attempts are indeed political violence, if a rare type. Violence committed by government against citizens is far more common, and far more popular, too, is something one could have observed at Trump's Pennsylvania violence-instigation rally, until it was interrupted by a less common form of political violence. In 2015 it was "lock her up." In 2016 it was "2nd amendment solutions." In 2017 it was telling cops "please don't be too nice." In 2018 it was "when the looting starts, the shooting starts." In 2019 it was "can't you just shoot them in the legs or something?" In 2020 it was "stand back and stand by." In 2021 it was an actual attempted overthrow of the government, along with the attempted assassination of the Vice President and Congress. In 2022 it was leading the crowd in laughing about the attempted assassination of Nancy Pelosi and the brutal attack on her husband by a deranged hammer-wielding maniac. In 2023 it was calling enemies "vermin" who were "poisoning the blood of the country," and promising "I am your retribution." In 2024 ... well. There's been no end to it, but earlier this year there was a predicted bloodbath, and a never ending litany of more vermin and blood-poisoning talk, and just last week we heard about another American Revolution to be waged by MAGA America against all the rest of us, which we were assured would stay bloodless as long as we didn't resist, and the Republican nominee for governor in North Carolina literally told his crowd that some people need killing. It's a list truncated by choosing only one item per year. It was a shockingly easy list to compile. You could double it, triple, it, and not drain the pool of readily available examples. We haven't even touched on the constant open praise of dictators and longing admiration for their ability to enact shocking acts of brutality against their own population. And of course in every year there has been gun massacre after gun massacre after gun massacre, each of them followed by the exact same empty pageantry that demands that we mourn the death of today's victims without ever remembering yesterday's or trying to prevent tomorrow's, because the cause of all massacres—the massacre weapons themselves—are forever treated as the only thing thing to defend, and any attempt to protect actual humans is treated as shameful politicization of tragedy that is never permitted to be understood as preventable.

And I'm given to understand that Republicans are shocked—shocked!—that there is suddenly political violence in this world they've forced us all to occupy with them, and they'd like us to know exactly who they think is to blame.. And there have been ceaseless enthusiastic calls from the Republican voting base for civil war, an open desire to get to some real mass killing, and people openly yearning to "use the guns," and early this year a bunch of Republican governors got into the act and started openly fantasizing about secession when it appeared the president wasn't going to let them kill brown people at the border. And we've all seen the little threats and little hopes for retributive violence, peeking out at us around any turned corner, "thin blue line flags" and Punisher logos and violence-celebrating car wraps and bumper stickers and "Rope. Journalist. Tree. Some Assembly Required." t-shirts, marring a bright sunshiny day with the sudden knowledge that we share this beautiful world with people who are comforted by the idea of a coming day when they may be able to see a lot of us die, and would like us to understand that the threat of them is real and ever-present. I don't want to be naive. This has always been a nation mediated through violence against marginalized people. However, I don't think I'm entirely being a coddled little comfortable middle class middle aged white dude when I say that in the age of MAGA there has been a new drumbeat added to the traditional mix, a manufactured rhythm of dread at the exact cadence of a semi-automatic weapon firing into a crowd, and just last month the tempo of the drumbeat was massively increased when the MAGA supreme court attached a bump stock—a modification MAGA America demands as a crucial element of what they call freedom, which expresses itself as their right to kill whoever they want whenever they see fit. There's a real trauma for all the rest of us, to have to live in this world of deliberately normalized violence, a world where menace is a daily event, where violence is a campaign promise, where retribution is promised to be delivered to all of the rest of us on behalf of those who demand domination over us, and excuse any action they take in response when we commit the unforgivable crime of not submitting to that domination. I think it's wearing us all down, to be honest, to be forced to live in this bully's paradise, where violence is encouraged and celebrated and eagerly anticipated, and cheered at rallies by red-capped throngs of people all celebrating their perceived right to live in a world that is a danger to us all, which is the only kind of world that seems to make them feel safe. It's hard to live in a world like this. It's draining and difficult and terrifying and wearing. We do what we can. We commit hopeful acts of opposition and defiance, things that bullies consider violent acts against them, things like treating people as if they matter and belong in society, and helping people in need, and being aware of things that are broken and paying the cost to repair them; things like thinking about what a more kind and just and sustainable world might look like, and demanding it; things like standing up to bullies on behalf of those who can't do it for themselves. But I think it's all going to be a bit too much to take if we're also to be blamed by the bullies who made this world for us, when they suddenly take some shrapnel and have to confront a reality that will not be denied, which is that they don't get to live in a different world from the rest of us no matter how much they might demand it. I think it's going to be too much if these fascists, realizing that they too have to live in this world they've created, decide that the people to blame for this is everybody except for themselves, and that this now justifies even more violence against the rest of us.

[casspurrjoybell-19]

Does it Matter? - Chapter 59 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

The spirit of exploration had taken Dara after they were done with breakfast and Maric had discovered that there were few greater joys in life than simply following him around.

Everything in Maric's life was so bound up in duty, purpose and presentation that Maric rarely got the opportunity to just aimlessly wander around and enjoy the world.

Dara balanced along a fallen log and then hopped from it onto a rock before turning to Maric.

"So. How do you feel about what happened last night?"

"I feel like jealousy is a trap I've fallen for before."

"You're allowed to feel it. That's your right. Not as a prince but as a person."

"Should I be jealous?"

"There is no 'should' but if you're asking whether I have feelings for Bug, the answer is still no. I just... I wanted to watch."

"You certainly did that and you seemed to like what you saw."

"There is something very appealing to me about that type of sex but I know I would panic if I tried to receive it and my interest isn't particularly in being on the other end of things. It was vicarious enjoyment, not a fantasy about switching places with either one of them."

"Ah and I take it your hints that if I wanted to bed Brayan again, you would allow it so long as it wasn't a secret, had a little to do with that as well."

Dara twisted his lips together and tipped his head from side to side.

"A little, maybe. I mean it sincerely as well but... yes. Though I'm not sure how Bug would feel about that idea."

"Or Brayan, for that matter, now that he's a man of love."

"I have no intention to push for anyone to do anything they don't want to do. I'm happy with things how they are. I'm happy with you. I just... have an appreciation for certain other things, if they happen to occur where I can see them."

"Then we shall have to see what happens."

********

That afternoon, Bug lay on his back in the tent, shut his eyes and started skipping through moments in time to check the weather.

Peering into the future had become a grim task he did only when necessary but this time he found himself catching and lingering on some of the things he saw.

None of it was bad.

Sometimes, Brayan was there and he was soft, attentive and though sometimes a little aloof, always caring.

Bug heard a sound and opened his eyes to see that, back in reality, Brayan had entered the tent.

"It's going to start raining tonight," Bug told him.

"I'm not sure how long it will last. I got distracted."

Brayan sat down next to Bug.

"Are there any exciting things in store for us in the near future?"

"No, just... you being nice to me."

"Ah. Yes, I had planned to be. Would you like me to help you wash off in the river?"

Bug nodded.

"If you have time. I keep finding bits of dried mud on me."

"I have more time than I know what to do with at the moment."

Just getting up was an effort but it felt good to be moving.

In some ways, at least.

Bug's body felt like a mess of competing needs.

Movement made him feel more alive but halfway to the river he was already mentally calculating how much energy it would take to get the rest of the way there and then back and that wasn't even considering whatever they did while they were there.

It felt like he would be this way forever but of course that was ridiculous.

He'd only had a couple of days of rest and good food after very nearly dying and before that he'd had only a short period of stability after being starved, abused and nearly poisoned to death.

He was stronger today than he had been yesterday and there was no reason to think he wouldn't be a little stronger still tomorrow.

It was easy to feel hopeless when a short stroll felt like it took everything he had.

[dumb-fuck27]

I don’t everyone knows exactly what happened in the past 4 years so here’s a list.

2020:

The continent of Australia was on fire for 3 months starting in December of 2019

The prince of England and his family left royalty in the start of January

Covid-19 became a world wide pandemic in February which caused a toilet paper shortage, at least 750,000 deaths, every non essential store to close (some for good), racism against anyone and everyone who looked somewhat Asian, and so much more.

Kobe Bryant died in a helicopter crash with his daughter.

The FIRST impeachment of trump

Harvey Weinstein was FINALLY convicted on February 24th of raping and sexually abusing a young actress and film crew since he was first accused during the metoo movement

The stock market crashed so bad it was the modern equivalent of the 20-30s stock market crash (march 9th 2020)

The black lives matter protest started.

Kim Jon Un was rumored to be dead for an entire month.

Biden wins the election

Twitter gets fucking hacked

Ghislaine Maxwell was arrested for sec trafficking

3 inch murder hornets suddenly appear in the US

Beirut fucking exploded… like the entire capital city

Kalama Harris is chosen as vice president

Chadwick basemen aka the black panther died of cancer

The entire west coast was on fire

Ruth bader Ginsburg died

The denier of covid-19 Donald trump caught Covid-19

Eddie Van Halen died of cancer

Biden wins the election

Alex Trebek died of cancer

Covid-19 finally got a vaccine made. This caused death in the people who tried to substitute the vaccine with horse dewormer, fish aquarium chemicals, and just adamant denial of vaccines.

Covid-19 financial relief finally comes out

2021:

Covid-19 death toll went from at least 750,00 to over 1 million starting in January

In January 6 trump told his devout followers to go to the capital and protest the election results which ended in the protester braking in, destroying property, the death of multiple police and security guards, defecation and urination on files and in room, pipe bombs were found on site, the political officials were ushered out all the while trump sent the national guard away from the capital

Trump claim voter fraud which was proven against trumps case where voter fraud was found on trump.

The US rejoins Paris’ climate accord with WHO

The US military withdrawals from the Middle East living equipment and some men behind

Notable foreign leaders step down from power just as Raul Castro, Benjamin Netanyahu, and Angela Merkel

Alexey Navalny pitons political rivial returns to Russia after recovering from Putin poisoning him from being out spoken against Putin

A huge earthquake in Haiti followed by flash floods leaving 2,200 people dead

The 2020 Tokyo Olympics happen in 2021

2 mass shootings happen with in a week for each other in march

A 12 story condominium collapsed killing 98 people

Winter storms in Texas shit down power to the entire state

Followed by historical record braking heat waves in the west

Hurricane ida hits

The officer who millled George Floyd was convicted of second degree murder

R. Kelly was convicted of sex trafficking

Brittny Spears is free from her controlling life as a pop star

Another rover lands on mars

Jeff Bezos safely lands his space ship (sadly)

Facebook struggles containing hate speech

2022:

Apple stocks hit 3 trillion dollars

Baby formula shortages happens

Brittney Griner detain in Russia for having illegal drugs on her person

Roddy’s invaded Ukraine

The fish from Shark Tales slaps the zebra from Madagascar 

Microplastic found in human blood

Johnny Depp wins amber heard false sexual assault allegations

Monkeypox outbreak spreads like wild fire

Buffalo supermarket shooter targets black people in mass shooting

Uvalde school shooting

Abortion is outlawed

Ketanji brown Jackson is sworn in as the first black j woman to be a supreme judge

Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe is assassinated

The Choco Taco is laid to rest

The queen of England dies. The reports from the after life says that princess Diana had a couple things to say to her when she arrived.

Iran erupts in protest over the hijab laws

NASA defends the earth from an asteroid by smashing a rocket into it

The try guys are outed for cheating

Alex jones goes against sandy hooks parents in trial and looses

Elon musk buys twitter and twitter flops

The democrats win midterm election

The world population reaches 8 billion

Club Q nightclub shooting results in 5 deaths and 25 injuries

The worlds largest active volcano erupts in Hawaii

Once again, no student loan forgiveness

Worlds oldest DNA sample found in Greenland

Scientists discover nuclear fusion

US marks 10 years since sandy hook

Argentina wins World Cup

2023:

67,000 people die in massive earthquake in Syria

India takes the #1 spot for highest population count

The lost submarine next to the titanic

The Ukrainian war is still happening

Ongoing hamas and Israeli war killing millions of innocents from both sides

Bangladesh election protests

Canada and India relations get a little worse

2023 Nashville school shooting

150 people were killing is massive Nepal earthquake

And the best for last… gumball waterson kicks a Minecraft YouTuber ass after the YouTuber mocks back while not want to talk about pedophile allegations. Law suit underway while pedophile allegations are being looked into.

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy, Romance, LBGT

Rating: 3.75 out of 5

Trigger Warning: Death, Grief, Death of parent, Violence, Injury/injury detail, Murder, Vomit, Child abuse, Emotional abuse      

Summary:

How much would you risk to save the ones you love? Would you tempt even the most dangerous fate? Briseis has one chance to save her mother, but she'll need to do the impossible: find the last fragment of the deadly Absyrtus Heart. If she is to locate the missing piece, she must turn to the blood relatives she's never known, learn about their secret powers, and take her place in their ancient lineage. Briseis is not the only one who wants the Heart, and her enemies will stop at nothing to fulfill their own ruthless plans. The fates tell of a truly dangerous journey, one that could end in more heartache, more death. Bolstered by the sisterhood of ancient magic, can Briseis harness her power to save the people she loves most?

*Opinions*

After a bit of chaos while buying this book (long story, but apparently sometimes special additions are not the same size as normal hardcover novels) I was finally able to sit down and finish the This Poison Heart duology. I was excited to see where Briseis’s journey would go after the shocking end of the first novel. Now that Greek Myth had come knocking on Briseis’s door in a way that had nothing to do with the naming of individuals in her birth family, she had to get a crash course in the legends as well as continue to learn about her magical powers to save those she loves the most. I loved This Poison Heart, but I feel like this book stumbled in a few places where that one excelled. There was a constant sense of movement and forward motion in the first novel that didn’t carry into the second part of the story. After the aftermath of the events that ended the first novel, there was a bunch of just sitting around all not really getting anywhere. Briseis was purposefully left in the dark or she wasn’t picking up on things that the reader did, so there was a lot of her internal monologue about trying to figure out what was happening. The pacing made it so that it took me a while to get through the first half of the novel and then fly through the second half. The way that Byron reimagined Greek Myth and Legends in this story. There are so many tales of the gods having children and the chaos that causes, why couldn’t there be lines that still exist to this day? While I missed the focus on Briseis’s powers, which I thought were extremely interesting and unique, the dive into the mystery and the connection between the past and present were well done. Byron said in the acknowledgments that this is a story about generational trauma and that is evident in the way that the characters deal with the burden of the Absyrtus Heart. I think it can also be seen in the way that Karter’s family deals with the truth about their family and ancestors. I really enjoy Briseis as a character, as well as Mo, but the rest of the characters didn’t seem to have as much depth as they were given in the first novel. The betrayal that Briseis suffered in the first novel hurt, and her loss hurt, yet in this novel, I really didn’t feel as if there were any serious stakes because it was telegraphed to the reader before it happens. I wanted to like the characters that were introduced to, and some of them I did become fond of, but it wasn’t the same closeness to the characters as in the first novel. I also didn’t really sink into the relationship as I usually do, but that might just be because I am no longer the intended audience for the book. Teenage me would probably have loved this romance. Overall, I enjoyed the end of this story but liked the first book better than this one. Still, a fun duology that I think had an interesting magical ability, a lot of information about poisonous plants that I had never heard of before, and twisted Greek myth in a fun way. 3.75 stars.

[thenobleclearlightbulb]

Can I just say that I hope to god the actual abusers and people like Kyle Rittenhouse try to sue for defamation after the Depp v Heard case. You have to prove that what was said was wrong and that it was said with malicious intent. Do they really think no one’s going to find out more about who they really are when lawyers start looking into their past? Do they think their victims are going to be lying about their ptsd and ones like Megan Thee Stallion are going to have doctors say it was self inflicted? It takes a special type of selfcenteredness/narcissism (one that imo Amber Heard suffers from) to ignore those whose lives have be destroyed by their lust for power. I feel bad for the victims who will have to readdress their trauma to satisfy these people’s stupid wish, but they should know that they’re not Amber Heard and many of the people cheering ‘justice for johnny’ want to believe victims when they come forward and only switched after her story made no sense with all the evidence. Having one picture of a split lip or one doctor finding scarring is worth more than 100 videos of a possibly puffy face or a red face that has been altered or your abuser with drugs. And that is true to all the alleged victims who the media has said dropped cases against their alleged abusers. You are not Amber Heard. You are not going in to tell an unbelievable story of how you covered up and broken nose and split lip with make up. You did not buy the person you thought would kill you a deadly weapon (or at least you didn’t after realizing they might try to kill you). You did not send a video to the paparazzi and then claim you didn’t. But if you are in the 0.00001% like her and are trying to play the victim as a form of revenge or to get money its a good thing you dropped your case. She’s already fueled enough people who think victims are all liars and we don’t need to give them anything more.

And to anyone who hasn’t watched the trial I invite you to clear your head and take a couple of weeks to listen before making a decision on the matter. If you think Depp is perfect or Heard wasn’t at least majorly exaggerating then you haven’t watched it. The courthouse website should have all of the evidence in an unbiased format as well

[xkotaro16w]

How about a scenario where Night Raven college is hosting an event and an assassin or something comes and tries to poison Leona. Well Leona drinks the poison but thankfully he didn’t drink a lot so he’s just unconscious. Well people spread rumors and start to blame the reader. So Crowley forces them to leave NRC. But on the day they are to leave, Leona wakes up and defends the reader and proves there innocence. Im sorry if this is a lot! Thank you so much!

—𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚊 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝙶𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝙿𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝙱𝚢 𝚊𝚗 𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝙶𝙽!𝚂/𝙾—

Summary: Scenario/short scenario where Leona gets poisoned by an assassin in NRC’s event and falls unconscious. Most people in NRC blames his GN!S/O and starts to spread a false rumor. Crowley forces GN!S/O to leave NRC. On the day GN!S/O is about to leave, Leona wakes up and proves GN!S/O’s innocence.

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x GN!S/O.

TW: Fluff/angst, murder (attempted), poisoning, verbal abuse (S/O receiving), cursing, grammatical error, OOC.

A/N: NO SRSLY THIS IS SAD SKJEHBKJGBSKJEGB ༼ ༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ༽ THANK GOODNESS U WANTED A HAPPY ENDING LIKE ME ANON AQJWEFBAJFBWJHBAF (҂ ꒦ິヮ꒦ິ) I HOPE U LIKE THIS- ALSO I HAVE A SERIOUS WRITING BLOCK EJKGBASKJEGBAJWGBA I TRIED 2 MAKE THIS AS SHORT AS I CAN CZ THIS COULD GET A PT 2 IF I DIDN’T MAKE IT SHORT (╥ᆺ╥；)

Today is the day where everyone in NRC has been waiting for, the big and fun festival in NRC starts from today until tomorrow! You couldn’t help but to overjoy about this, it’s the first time you have such an exhilarating event at school, not only that, your boyfriend promised to spend his evening at the event with you.

Many outsiders are visiting the school for this special event, several of your friends even invited their beloved family to come visit the school. Grim asks you a favor to walk around the bazaar with him and your friends while waiting for the evening.

Everything is delightful! The food, the atmosphere, even the party that will be held this evening. When Leona joins you with the others later on, things will get more fun for you. It was a pleasant event, not until a terrible incident comes.

The flickering disco ball shines brightly, emitting an energy to keep everyone dancing under it until daybreak. The sound of the music echoes through the hall loudly, which made the voices of people talking obscured by the sound of music.

A familiar tall beastman lion figure stands in the corner of the hall, crossing both his arms, a bored expression plastered on his face, its expression flies away until you come to greet him. You swear you could’ve seen a tiny smile on the corner of his lips.

After a brief chat with him, you offer him to have a drink (soda, it’s probably soda, since it's a school event), and he agrees to have one with you. However, you can see it going further away from the source of the music.

Perhaps the loud music disturbs him, especially when he has very sensitive lion ears. On the other hand, the suspiciously tall figure on the drink place helps you to prepare your drinks. Of all the people you have met up until now, this person has the strangest yet most dangerous aura.

Inevitably you have to keep an eye on them, all their movements and facial expressions, unfortunately they seem very professional at hiding things so you don't find anything suspicious.

You snap out of it and come back to reality as soon as they give you your drinks. Before you walk away, you thank the person and head straight back to Leona. He's leaning against the wall and huffs when you get back.

“Took you long enough, herbivore.”

His hand reaches one of the cups and drinks it immediately. If there's anything fishy in it, he won’t drink it right away and he’ll tell you to not drink it as well. So, you can say that maybe you were too quick to judge the weirdo, or maybe you didn't.

A loud thud could be heard after his huge body falls and hit the ground, it makes all around you and half of the people stare at you and him. His drink spills from his cup which fell beside his motionless body.

When you try to reach him, you try to seek help. Thank goodness your friends move faster and call for a teacher. You kneel down, your hands reaching for his motionless body.

A loud commotion broke out so suddenly and several teachers came to check on him and took him to the medical room as quickly as possible. However, the teachers restrict the students from entering for a while, because they need to check up on him and the drinks he drank earlier.

There’s no way the headmaster could let it slide easily like that, because Leona is a prince and it’ll cause a huge diplomatic problem with his country. Your friends and a teacher try to tell you that everything will be solved in a mean time, all you have to do right now is to tell the teachers about the chronology of events.

Will they believe your story? As your close friends, they do believe you won’t harm your own lover or boyfriend, up until now you haven’t shown any harm and dangerous treatments towards them and him.

Anxiety fills you completely. Even when the teachers tell you to wait for the results of the investigation, a gossip or a rumor is something that you couldn’t avoid. Many eyes are staring deeply at you, as if they don't trust you anymore and are suspicious of you.

You could understand what they’re saying from those around you, either by their voices or from the shapes of their mouths when they speak. Truth to be told, the day after tomorrow a lot of students blame on you for being reckless. Is that even reckless?

Day by day, it gets worse than before. They continue to blame you, although the investigation is still ongoing. Grim and the others know that you didn’t do it. Yet, the other students don’t give a crap about what you, Grim, and your close friends say.

“Oh, it’s the assassin.”

“How could they show up their face to school even after yesterday’s incident?”

“Who would’ve thought that the magicless perfect is an assassin?”

“Huh, they’re pretending to be innocent, disgusting.”

“Hey, perfect, stop being innocent and tell the teachers you did it!”

You swear you feel worse than before, you can’t help yourself but to step away from the crowd and burst into tears. How could they say something like that when they don’t know about the truth?

Worst of all, the false rumor reaches Crowley’s ears and makes him doubt you. The headmaster didn’t believe it the first day he achieved the false rumor, yet now he’s doubting about the whole investigations and you.

On a certain day while you’re sitting by Leona's bedside, the headmaster requests your presence in his office for an important talk about the investigation. All you could do is to hope that you receive news where the investigation is complete.

As you enter the office, you could see how serious his face is and he proceeds to stand up from his chair to approach you. You gulp before he opens his mouth to start the conversation.

“Perfect, it seems like you must leave NRC,” he crosses his arms.

Your eyes are wide open after he said those words. You must leave the school? Are your evidences not strong enough? It must be a joke, right? After all, this is Crowley, you know very well that he-

“I’m afraid the rumor of you as the real culprit is spreading throughout and Mr. Kinghscholar’s kingdom, it affecting our school’s reputation. Afterglow Savannah won't sit idly by when they hear a single magicless student tried to poison their second prince.”

You couldn’t even swallow, not even once. Every word, every sentence, you try to digest one by one. It feels like your nightmare has come true, yes, getting kicked out of the NRC. However, the reason why you get kicked out is stupid, dumb. How could a headmaster believe in such a nonsense rumor?

“It may look like I committed a grave crime, forcing my own student to leave the school. Prefect, I know I was very reckless doing this to a magicless student. But I want you to understand that this is for the safety of the other students, teachers, and our school. I hope you could understand what I mean, prefect.”

How can you even understand this conversation? The investigation is still going on, they haven’t found out who the real culprit is, but a stupid rumor about you being the real culprit all the time and trying to poison your own boyfriend, you even get kicked out by the headmaster himself just because of this stupid rumor is insane, confusing, and nonsensical.

Of course, you can’t let this happen! What kind of a headmaster believes in such a dumb rumor, expels out his own student because of the rumor, and doesn’t even finish the investigation first? You knew from the very beginning that Crowley isn’t responsible for literally everything in NRC.

A huge debate has started when you go against his decision, a teacher like Crewel actually disagrees with Crowley’s rash decision. Unfortunately, Crewel couldn’t oppose the current headmaster’s decision, and so, Crowley gets you out of his office and wants you to leave the school as soon as possible.

You can’t even understand your own feelings, there’s sorrow, there’s pure red rage, everything is messed up. Your feeling, your thoughts, everything. The pleasant peaceful life in NRC was never an option in the first place.

Grim tries to hold you back from packing your things, he’s crying, not wanting to let you go. You friends are trying the same thing as Grim, the headmaster tells them that you must leave as soon as possible.

On the other hand, Leona tries to open his eyes and blinks a few times, what on earth is going on? His ears could seriously hear a loud commotion from outside the room, his face turns to catch a sudden gasp of the doctor who’s walking past his bed and seeing him regained consciousness.

Strange, usually you greet him every time he wakes up from his slumber. The only way to find out what’s happening is ask the doctor. Leona couldn’t believe the story that the doctor told him, you? They’re blaming over YOU? And that stupid headmaster believes the dumb rumor? AND KICK YOU OUT? Oh, dear, he won't sit around.

“Where are they right now?” Leona jumps out from the bed to run to you.

“Mr. Kingscholar! You still need to rest! I’m sorry but I don’t know where are they right now, but you could ask the other stu- Mr. Kingscholar!! Where are you going?! Come back to bed!!” The doctor tries to get him back to bed, sadly he runs too fast.

Hall after aisle, many students stare at him and whisper about him and you. Before he could ask your friends, he hears Grim is crying and running towards you, so he follows Grim and sees you holding a huge bag near the school’s gate with your face to the ground.

“Herbi- S/O!!” He runs to you and hugs you tightly, as if this would be the last day, where he could hold you this close.

Your cheeks become wet from the tears that suddenly flow from your eyes. Is this a dream? It can’t be, but it’s possible. From behind him, Crowley coughs and interrupts the two of you. Oh, Leona loses his temper at that point and then and almost attack Crowley.

“What is the meaning of this, Crowley?! Why are you kicking out them?!” Leona growls at him and moves you behind him, he tries to protect you from the stupid crow.

“Mr. Kingscholar, you should be in bed to rest, your body needs time to recovery from the poison. It appears you do know about the rumor, it affected our-“

“School’s reputation? That’s bullshit!!” Leona stares at Crowley, it’s an intense gaze.

Leona is ready to attack the headmaster, several teachers are watching over them, even though it’s an empty conversation, all they do is just staring at each other intensely. Feeling impatient because of the silence, Leona starts to open his mouth and tells the truth.

It’s a detailed and honest chronology, of course he wouldn't lie about it. He tells them the truth behind the poisoning, even the one who gave the drink to you and him. Knowing that Crowley almost makes a huge mistake, which’s expelling you out from the school, his expression changes drastically.

The others start to whisper to each other, doubting about Leona’s story. After a few minutes of arguing with each other, Crowley decides not to kick you out and ask you to stay again in NRC. This surprises you as well as pleases you.

Incredibly, the principal changed his mind as soon as Leona told the whole story and provided him with other evidence to prove your innocence in this incident. Leona swears that if Crowley seriously does this again in the future, he won’t hold back from punching him in the face.

Once again, Leona hugs you tightly, not tight enough to crush you. Oh, how grateful you and him are for having each other, especially you. He saved you once more, it feels like you’re indebt with him, with your own boyfriend.

His thumb wipes your tears from your wet cheeks, his face inches from yours. Worry, anger, sorrow written over on his face and eyes, you can feel how worried and angry he is that you are being blamed by them, because of him.

“Hey…” His voice turns soft, comforting you from all that had happened.

Well, the headmaster apologizes to you, but do you forgive him? Leona doesn’t forgive him, no, he won’t. That crow doesn’t deserve it, especially after blaming you and nearly kicking you out of the NRC. Next time, Leona will make sure no one can do this to you again, not to his precious herbivore.

I DO NOT OWN TWISTED WONDERLAND & DO NOT REPOST MY WORKS.

[danger-noodle-uwu]

This is a pretty graphic idea I had but I understand if you don’t want to do it or find it too triggering.

I want to request hc’s of the Brothers + Datables (but if you do the Brothers and Datables separately than just the Brothers please) reacting to MC being summoned but MC’s covered in blood and holding a weapon like a bat or knife, because they massacred their abusive family and they don’t feel bad about it at all. Mc’s pretty emotionally hollow and they don’t show much reaction or fear to dangerous situations either since the Bros do start off threatening and rude but they relate to Mammon since he’s emotionally abused by his Bros and physically punished by Lucifer.

This is only if you feel comfy doing it and I apologize if I broke the rules and making you find it very triggering and disturbing

Trigger warning!

Mentions of blood/murder/abuse

Do not proceed if sensitive

Lucifer

At the summoning part, Lucifer would be merely worried about what type of student has diavolo choosen, pitying his taste. Though he was but a demon, weary and skittish around you.

The Avatar of pride scared of mere human?

(Though he kinda was)

Blood being spilled on the floor was common in devildom yet he was unfazed.

But now, things are different and he can't help to worry about how this weak creature will influence on his brothers.

the fallen-morningstar tried to keep you away from the entire of his brothers including himself.

He also made sure that never was anything that could be used as a potential weapon surround you.

Often the man would receive rather harsh words from you and get somewhat hurt. Yet , not a single cry reach your ears.

(Que enemies to lovers dynamic)

When the pair started dating, the raven-haired demon had already known the past and what it once held for mc...

Oh how much he wishes, he helped you instead of interrogating every movement, to regain the 'you' that your parents killed. So, he will find a solution. To find those rascals in the realm of spirits or demons and put them once again at your mercy.

Prepare yourself Mc. For a whole month of pampering and love as he will never dare repeat the mistake he made.

Mammon

As the story is, Mammon didn't encounter you first but only heard melody of your voice.

The first meet was unforgettable, he was petrified to see the blood dripping off your slender bruised figure.

One thought that he was scared however, No he was anything but scared. He had thought you were the one hurt like--you know h-how Lucifer hurts him.

He rushed towards you but was stopped by the eldest saying " They aren't hurt." And this was the first person tried who befriend you.

When your words were sweetly aimed at him and just HIM. He'd feel his heart beat racing like crazy which made him believe he thought you found him special.

He was never honest with anyone, until you showed up. His biggest fear was snapping because of the mean comments his brothers pass and you had probably done something similar.

He wanted to know. Though dense he may seem, he hoped you'd tell him.

Was it scary? Do you feared this before? Is it still scary? Do you feel emotions after this?

Yet he never asked...

When the greedy Boi and mc started dating, they told everything about their condition. Of how they snapped.

He was the most understanding of his brothers and promised to never let another one harm you. Not even you.

He loved even more since that day. Not to mention 1323433454455686 'I love you's per day.

Leviathan

Blabbering lord knows what, Leviathan had stepped out of his room even if that was to scold mammon and get his money back.

He obviously knew about the exchange program but what he didn't know was that bloody murderer would be part of it!!!

He wasn't moving when he saw the numb expression you wore and the bloody knife you had held.

Inside, he was scared shitless but he didn't know how to show it.

A mere-human had terrified The great admiral of hell's navy. What shame he was.

"Oi cut it out!" Yelled the scummy yet kind demon protectively moving between the two.

In the beginning, he felt unsafe only by your gaze and refusing to make eye contact.

And then, a good day to exit to his room. The true reason being the pearly raindrops that had littered the gardens of HOL.

He saw you... soaking wet smiling and hurting... shining brightly though it felt dim.

That day. That dammed day. He found out who truly were. A beautiful person who was just hurting and breaking.

Since then, he has been a mix of a nagging mother but also shy as if a touch-me-not.

Dating him was heavenly, he wasn't shy with touch yet words were a whole another thing to him.

He always left 'Love you's in the chats and reminders on your phone that were just a bunch of 'eat healthy' 'stay safe', etc.

And this was certain that his love will never end.

Satan

Snatching the bat from your hands, the blonde-man threatened to kill you with your own weapon if you dared to move.

And that's exactly what you wanted... to die... to end the suffering...

And he saw it.

Saw how horribly you were hurting, he knew what it felt however, he couldn't lose his composure not in front of his brothers.

Wrath is a storm which is followed by pain. He knew this. Same in your case except pain knocked the doors first.

He knew it was too early for asking. So, he kept his mouth shut. Not wishing to hurt you any further though he didn't know why he felt this way.

When you finally finished your 2nd month in your new home, things had changed as the Avatar of wrath often talked to you not about how bloody you arrived or you had killed but are you okay now?

His words were soft. So sweet.

Each time he would offer you his shoulder to cry on, you would feel your heart slowly warm up. Slightly more each-time.

Soon enough you started dating the green-eyed pact demon of yours, recalling the long lost feeling of warmth and love.

The knowledgeable one loved to show physical affection especially in front of his brothers.

Oh~ the smell of their burning envy, when he kissed the nape of your neck and complimented you.

Post-its were his favorite though.

He would often write 'Love you, kitten' 'take break,love' 'you look amazing today',etc.

Asmodues

He yelped when he saw a bloodied figure emerge from the purple haze. Are they okay?

He was concerned only till a knife was spotted next your seemingly heartless figure. Now, he was somewhat hiding behind satan in disgusted yet anxious way.

You gaze deeply disturbed him to an extent he even had nightmares of you ripping him open with same knife and had that soul-less expression.

He much like Leviathan refused to see you after the encounter but what was different, was the course of events...

He saw you arguing with Lucifer, for you refused let him hurt Mammon who curled behind you.

Asmo felt pity for you as he knew the outcome of an argument with the eldest.

"Lucifer don't hurt him, please. He already has enough bruises" Asmo says giving his sweet brother Luci the puppy eyes, hoping they would work. (Yeah they didn't)

But nonetheless Luci~ still backed out and left the hallway.

You rush for the poor injured demon, he is crying while thanking you for the save.

And there for one moment, The lustful blond saw emotion in those glassy eyes of yours. It was beautiful and aching at the same time.

Making him greedy for more...

Later the very same day, he approached you finally asking the questions his head was haunted by.

What was weird? He didn't blame you for breaking instead he complimented you for being a survivor of such harsh tortures.

Accepting his confession was the best thing you ever did.

He is open with affection especially when you both are in public to show he is yours. You are his. You belong together.

for his hunger to see those pretty eyes shine with joy is endless, he makes Mc smile with happiness and love

Beelzebub

Famished as always was the sixth born. Especially after smelling human blood.

Little did he know the blood of the now dead parents of mc, the exchange student.

He wasn't even fazed unlike his brothers. He couldn't care any less than he did nor about the blood neither about the weapon clutched in your hands.

Even if you passed insults, he wouldn't mind. Sometimes, he asks why you dislike him? And is fine even if the answer is illogical. (Don't fuckin hate him)

Numb eyes. Tears flowing freely. Cuts. Bruises. Hurting. Dying inside.

The glutton wipes the sweat off his forehead remembering the condition of yours in that horrendous nightmare.

You looked awfully similar to belphi when- when s-she died. He blamed himself and hurt himself for being so useless. Just like you do.

And then realization hits--

YOU ARE HURTING!!

He now knew why your rude words didn't hurt him because you were like belphegor trying to protect your fragile heart.

Why you look numb? because you're trying to hide the pain. Push people away so you don't get hurt when they go away.

The following day, you were gently woken by the huge teddy bear. He held a hand out for you before taking you to his room for the special breakfast.

You teared upon the sight instantly realizing that he recognized your suffering. He apologized for not noticing earlier and from now, he will be there for you.

Never in the three realms did he think he'd fall for you? Maybe he had all along just didn't notice....

Once you begin dating the orange-head, he was ecstasic and cheerful all the time. Encouraging words followed you everywhere.

He would often eat the entire fridge out. So as apology, a cupcake with sorry written on it was placed on the kitchen counter. Other days, when he won't go such extreme, carrot chips or a poison apple etc. Waited for you.

Beely is the opposite of possessive. Protective. He is Protective and supports you through the ups and downs in life. He was your true savior. A savior who never judged you for your past.

His Love is the sky, you learned to fly in.

Belphegor

He had heard the tale of how the human exchange student had shown up covered in blood with a bat in hand.

Never did he believe that it was true until seeing the monotone figure of them.

The way they spoke made them like Lucifer. Emotionless. Heartless. Ruthless. Monster.

He wanted to strangle them on spot but he was stuck within the confines of the attic.

The sloth couldn't help passing comment making mc slowly reveal the aching heart of their own-self.

Expression faultered and he saw it--No, no more like felt it. The way their tears were swallowed. The way their voice turned monotone once again to cover what had already been seen.

However, the seventh born didn't say a word, he just showed affection through body language as they couldn't touch each other yet.

After he was free from the prison of an attic, he ran to you. His star. The one that guided him out to freedom.

It felt weird dating the lazy demon. Afterall, he was doing nothing other than shoving compliments in your face and dozing off here and there.

Few months pass and things become smoother than how they were.

Now, he always compliments you but softly and sweetly. Always willing to listen to whatever you wanna rant about.

"You are my true love, Mc. The star that guides to where I belong when I'm lost."

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

Welp! That was long as hell. Anyway, thank you for the request. It kinda feels like you and my sister share the same brain cell cuz she said the same thing but like- mc ate their organs and more messy. God I hope you like it...

Good day!

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

May i request some yandere HC for 2p FACE fam reacting to their s/o getting sexually harassed at work?

This just happened to me and its been a few months. i ve tried to put up w it but eventually just quit since my boss is a disgusting asshole. And he’s a doctor (im the med assistant). I also talked to previous assistants there and they all wanted to report him anyways since he has anger issues and makes the enviorment v hostile to work in🙃

That sucks! I'm glad you got away from the slimeball, hopefully, justice comes for him soon.

France: François would have discovered this through the use of his cameras. He had the program opened to ensure you arrived home in a timely manner. What the French man didn’t expect was for you to be sobbing when you walked through the door.

The crystal tears caused his stone heart to crack. He leaned closer to the screen as you called your closet confidant. The tale you spun caused the man to break the wine bottle he held in his hand.

The frumpy French man would not waste time having his men gather information on your boss. Within twelve hours of giving the orders, François has everything.

Due to the severity of his crime, François will not kill the man. Instead, destroy everything around him. Leaving your boss destroyed in all senses of the word.

America: Allen preferred stalking method really helps him out here. Instead of having to discover the abuse, you tell him yourself. The moment you do, the world bleeds into a red. His breathing picks up as his mind races with images of the blood he is about to shed.

It is your voice that brings him back to the moment. The concern you express at his tight fists and clicking of his grinding teeth. His muscles relax and Allen shifts the focus back to you. Ensuring that your needs have been met before stalking off into the night.

With bat and gun in hand, Allen goes about torturing the man. Driving him made from subtle threats and horrifying mind games. It's not until the man is about to do something drastic that Allen steps in and finishes the job.

England: Oliver’s discovery comes in the form of overhearing your coworkers discuss the work environment. It strikes Oliver as odd since he’s never heard you make any complaints. So instead of asking, Oliver sends FSB and FCB to do some on-the-job snooping.

Their reports anger Oliver. His own mask begins to crack at the thought of his Poppet enduring that type of abuse. His flighted lagomorphs’ movements cause Oliver to reset his mask. The smile is wide as he tells his duo to gather a specific list of ingredients.

Once all are gathered, Oliver concocts a special trio of cupcakes. Each one holds a piece of the abuser’s demise.

The first one is a dark chocolate cupcake with a red cherry frosting. This delicious weapon contains the summoning spell for hell hounds. Once ingested, it causes a hell hound to hang around the man. Slowly driving him mad as the unseen beast creates a sense of doom and attempts to survive the attacks.

The second is a strawberry sponge cupcake with a whip cream frosting. This cupcake holds a spell called The Innocence Lost. This spell causes the affected to experience a series of hallucinations that put them in the place of those that they’ve wronged. Many days will leave him paralyzed as he sees the view of his victims.

The final cupcake is a classic red velvet cupcake. Though it carries a slight metallic taste which leaves your boss confused on the flavor. This cupcake is the final nail in the coffin with its slow-acting paralysis poison.

By the end of three days, the cupcakes will do their work. Allowing the man to have a time in hell before the hound finally finishes the deed.

Canada: Matt was ‘visiting’ you at work when he witnessed it firsthand. The lumberjack defended you and left an open threat in the air of more harm coming.

His eye twitched as your boss brushed him off. Matt was ready to drag him back when you called to him, thanking him for his aid. He just nods and tells you not to think much of it. To him after all, your smile was the best reward.

With that he leaves, at least you think he does. Matt actually hangs around, waiting to follow your boss home. At that point, it’s a simple kidnapping. Dragging the man into his truck and driving off to nowhere.

Now that there were no witnesses, Matt throws the man to the ground. Tells him to run.

He cackles as the man scrambles to run. Scared of the weapon-wielding Canadian.

Once he is out of sight, Matt begins the hunt. Debating whether to stuff the man or to skin him alive.

[danafeelingsick]

ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ, ᴅɪʟᴜᴄ 2/2

NON-KINK BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

PART 1

PART 1.5

In which Diluc eats more than he should've at his own birthday party organized by Kaeya, and ends up sick only to find out something has gone sour.

ᴀᴏ3

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ nausea, bloating, overeating, overindulgence, food poisoning, burping, fever, graphic descriptions of vomiting, vomiting in public, verbal abuse, stomach ache

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 5.2k~

❝𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚟𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙺𝚊𝚎𝚢𝚊'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝.

It took Diluc a while to admit it, but something was wrong. If he hadn't been so engrossed listening to the conversation, he would've realized sooner. Or maybe, he had just tricked himself into ignoring the symptoms by shoving more food on top of them.

Regret soon dawned on him as he kept rolling the last few bites back and forth on his plate, none of it looked appealing anymore, and his mouth tasted odd. If his stomach could talk, it would be cussing him off.

Diluc had to breathe carefully, trying to contour the growing discomfort it would cause every time his taut paunch pressed against his belts. It was almost as if his dinner was breathing along with him, the motion sending it climbing up his esophagus and sliding back down.

At some point, he had laid a hand over the curve on his abdomen, sometimes letting it rest on his thigh when it came to suspicion, but when he was sure no one was looking, he would try to get his bloated stomach to settle by carefully rubbing it. Sometimes opting for running a finger between his collar and his neck to try and leave a little room for his adam's apple.

It would do nothing more than provide a fleeting relief when he managed to get a few small silent burps out of it, but soon enough the taste of acid would return to his mouth.

It was just an uncomfortable pressure at first, he could feel his stomach every time he swallowed, but it quickly evolved into an uncomfortable slimy sensation looming over him, almost like his throat all the way to his gut was growing smaller. Before he could do anything about it, without a doubt, it had become a swirling queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Diluc raised his eyes from the plate, settling his fork aside and taking a cup. His movements were calculated, the result of countless careful meetings and dinners, where he didn't know if the people were trustworthy, much less the food. He would slightly tilt the half-empty glass, let the juice touch his lips, and put it back where he found it.

No one seemed to be watching him, at least not anymore. He had managed to stay silent and simply exist in the room, listening to the chatter going back and forth. And yet, he felt the discomfort of having an unseen eye glued to his back, staring at him just from the corner of his vision.

Kaeya was in the middle of a one-sided discussion with Amber, who had already drifted off to sleep with her head on Eula's shoulder. Something about work and reports, and expeditions. Diluc was trying to keep up, but he was quickly lost to boredom.

Why did they even invite him if they were just going to discuss the Knight's troubles?

He drifted his attention to Lisa, who had pulled out a book and was patiently reading through it, sipping a glass of wine at the same speed she would devote to her work. Maybe he could take her as an example and simply ignore this whole thing.

He wasn't paying attention, Diluc noticed, watching as Kaeya carried the conversation, his face was flushed ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably under his tan. Nothing changed. He should've known better.

He should've known this party wasn't meant for him. It was all to stroke his own ego. To annoy him in the process. He should've just left when he had the chance.

“Is something the matter?” he heard him lean over and ask, meeting his eye to find a slimy smirk just underneath it.

The question caused Diluc to relax the frown he had been unknowingly holding, briefly closing his eyes and clearing his throat. Had he been transparent the whole time? He simply waved his head, his lips pressed thin as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Oh, would you like some more?” he asked him, the distinct slosh of a half-empty bottle being raised to his attention.

Absolutely not, he thought immediately but opted for saying: “I think I've had enough, thank you…”

“Suit yourself”, he completed his tone carefully before returning to the usual playfulness as he turned back to the table.

As soon his sights were off him, Diluc resumed pouting at the scattered remains on his plate, he barely had the energy to mask his discomfort.

The feeling in his stomach had ripened from a queasy fullness to a constant, now certain nausea. He couldn't help but keep swallowing, almost involuntarily, every time it washed over him in waves, bringing an almost metallic taste to his mouth.

Diluc had eyes fixed on the half-glass of grape juice in front of him, its taste simmering in his mind, finding countless things that could be wrong with it. His lips hitched into a grimace as he realized how naive he had been, trusting something Kaeya gave him to drink. Kaeya, of all people.

The young master placed a gloved hand on his forehead, curving to rest his elbow on the table, his vision seemed to be slightly, almost unnoticeably blurry. His mouth felt far too wet, his eyes too dry, like the heat rising from his cheeks was boiling his eyeballs.

And his stomach– It felt like something was growing inside it, the restless churning like a writhing living being agonizing.

He gulped, the muscles of his throat audibly rubbing against one another, the motion seeming to send a large lump of air flushing down his throat.

“...guh”, the noise escaped him, along with a line of thick drool lazily trailing the side of his mouth.

He was sick, he had to admit it. He was sick to his stomach, and trapped in a room full of people. Something he ate must've been spoiled. He had been poisoned.

Maybe there was still time for a swift escape.

Diluc shakingly raised his eyes to find the entire room staring at him, his stomach plummeted to his feet. Out of some animalistic impulse, he backed out, dragging his chair on the wooden floor, the noise grating to his ears, his legs wobbly as he tried to stand up.

“Diluc, going so soon?” Kaeya's voice comes from his left, carrying confusion in his tone. “You hadn't cut the cake yet.”

He tensed as he heard it, latching onto the arm of his chair as his knees trembled. The thought of eating anything more made him lock his throat, his chest growing tighter as panic bloomed inside of it.

“I… I'll–”, even though he wasn't sure what he meant to say, his mind seemed to have come to a screeching halt as he felt his stomach jump under his belt. “...bur–”

“Master Diluc…? Is everything okay?” Jean's voice came from his right, soft and gentle, heavy with worry. He found her eyes glued to his face, wide with the same panic.

He briefly opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a gurgle deep within his stomach, announcing its contents rushing up his throat.

Diluc desperately clasped a hand over his mouth, his cheeks suddenly bulging out as searing watery vomit scorched his tongue. He realized with a shuddering exhale leaving his nostrils, how clearly it tasted like grilled meat, sickly sweet and half-burned mixed with awfully bitter, fermented grape juice.

The screeching of a chair being pulled sent him into further panic, causing his chest to heave, nearly inhaling the vomit filling his mouth. He was turned on his heels by a pair of quick hands, the motion sending his head in a full spin.

“What's wrong with—?” Kaeya began to ask, his words caught in his throat as he settled his eyes on Diluc. He had gone beyond pale, his otherwise intimidating scowl crumbled into pure misery as he covered his mouth, less than seconds away from bursting.

He didn't have much time to react before he saw his shoulders heave, his eyes going so wide they could jump out of his skull. Vomit violently sprayed from between the cracks of his fingers, speckles of it landing on Kaeya's clothes, dotting his fuzzy scarf, sliding down the exposed part of his chest.

Kaeya recoiled and jumped back as a heavy soup-like mixture fell between his feet, staining his shoes and the carpet with purple beyond repair. He looked from the ground at Diluc who could only choke behind his hand, trying to stifle his coughs.

“Oh, my!” Lisa exclaimed from the other side of the table, shutting her book. While Eula gasped, one hand covering her mouth in surprise, Amber barely twitched as she snoozed on her shoulder.

Diluc was mortified as he stared at his own vomit soaking into the red carpet, tears were gathering in his eyes from the effort of repressing the heaving of his chest.

"...e-excuse me–”, he managed to squeak out before turning and bolting for the door, his stomach already winding up for a second serving.

Jean was already up on her feet while Kaeya eyed the door, forcing himself to make a decision fast. The two exchanged knowing looks as he sprinted past her, making a run after his sickly brother.

***

Kaeya stepped into the hall, the heels of his now ruined shoes clacking against the tiles, a sound he was used to. However, the pained retching and greedy gasps for air filling in the silence were something he wasn't entirely used to.

He didn't have to look any further to find the source of the noise.

Diluc had crumpled to his knees in the middle of the hall, both hands holding the ground as his back heaved violently. With the sounds coming from him, one could easily mistake him for a drowning man.

Kaeya rushed up to him, just in time to watch as he burped up a steady stream of watery vomit, struggling to come up with the denser parts of it. It landed between his hands with a heavy, almost sharp splatter, forming a puddle that quickly spread, staining the beige tiles with a purplish boiling mixture.

“Oh… Diluc, couldn't make it?”, the cavalry captain cooed, kneeling beside him on the hard cold tiles.

The acidic smell of sick scorched his nostrils, a mixture of spoiled grapes and fermented yeast laced with meat, and he did his best to block it out, but the feeling of now cold vomit drying over his skin sent disgust shuddering all over his body.

Diluc barely seemed to register his presence, he was breathing much too heavily, gagging over the steaming pile of vomit soaking into his gloves, struggling to come up with more to add to it. It sounded like he was choking, retching empty over the ground, but he refused to move from there. It felt like if he tried to move, he would dismantle like a ragdoll.

“Sounds like you overdid it, hum. It happens, and it's not the first…”, the captain commented, trying to add a little humor to the situation, but he cowered as soon as Diluc shot him a mortifying look.

His face had been drained of its usual color, leaving only greyish circles under his glossy eyes and a rosy tint to his cheeks and nose. There was fresh vomit still dripping from his mouth and nostril, his lips had gone a few shades paler.

“I should've realized sooner you weren't feeling well”, he lamented, his eyebrows knitted together, an apologetic crease on his lips. Diluc responded with another struggling retch, managing to produce a small trickle of bile dripping out of his tongue. “But don't worry, okay? I'm not too mad about you getting your sick all over me.”

“Go… go away”, he whispered, his tongue sizzling between his teeth as he mustered all of his energy into sounding intimidating.

“I'm afraid I can't leave my little brother alone in his moment of weakness”, Kaeya snorted, letting out a mocking chuckle as he found Diluc frowning at his words, but unable to do anything except gag.

Brother. The word sent a cold sinking feeling to his stomach, only upsetting it further as nausea held his innard in a vice-grip. They weren't brothers. They were never brothers.

Diluc lowered himself further to the ground as he felt his stomach quiver from disgust, his abdomen sinking as it squeezed itself empty. A gush of watery lumpy vomit splattered onto his hands, covering them in chunks of undigested pastries and leaving stains up to his elbows. He felt pitiful, worst now that the bastard was looming over, no doubt with a smirk on his face.

“Look at you, poor thing”, he cooed, nothing but pity laced in his voice, now daring to lay on his quivering back only to feel the man wince under his touch. “Don't worry, I'll—”

“...leave me… huff, alone”, he hissed in between wet gasps. Even though he didn't turn to look at him, his tone gave him pause. Diluc's voice was completely shot, but still, he mustered a husky, almost like a sizzle, dripping with hatred.

“I'd rather not. You look like you're about to fall over”, Kaeya noted, reluctantly retrieving his hand, but still leaving it hovering over his back.

Diluc was left panting, seemingly struggling to come up with more to add to the puddle. It was a surprise, given how easily it was for him to vomit when they were still in the office. Then, again, Kaeya knew well how it felt to have his stomach filled with fluid on top of dense, dubious food. He wasn't even halfway done.

“Say, why don't we move to the restroom?” Kaeya suggested, going to gently rearrange the strands of fiery red hair glued to Diluc's face. “No use in dirtying the headquarters anymore, right? Think of poor Noe—”, his fingers barely grazing his skin when he jerked away.

“Don't– urp, fucking touch me!” he yelled, having to stop midway to swallow when a trickle of saliva fell out of his mouth. His voice was gone by the end of his sentence.

“Now, calm down Diluc”, Kaeya backed off with both hands raised as the man huffed, glaring at him, wishing looks could kill. “No need for this.”

“How many times… do I have to tell you? Fuck off”, he dotted every word with a pant, shaking his head as he felt warmth rising to his forehead. “I don't want your fucking help.”

“I couldn't care less about what you want now”, Kaeya retorted, having to hold back the sneer in his voice. "You need help, you are sick.”

“I'm– guh”, Diluc stopped mid-sentence, having to swallow something dense that suddenly threatened to overflow his mouth. “And who's fault is this!?”

“What part of you being an unsociable brat is my fault, huh?”, the captain pinned the bridge of his nose, struggling to reason with his feverish and delirious brother. “We all come together to organize something for you, and you get this mad? What an–”

“For fuck's sake, Kaeya”, his voice was lower now, garbled with apparent nausea as he struggled to swallow again. “It was that… that thing you gave me to drink.”

“What, the grape juice?” Kaeya went cold, thinking of the circumstances that led to this moment. Had he stored the bottle appropriately? Closed it well? Left it in the sun? “Oh, no… I– You might be right”, that last part was barely a whisper. He kept a close eye on Diluc, watching as he raised a soiled glove hovering close to his mouth. “Is it– Are you going to puke again?”

Diluc couldn’t respond, his throat was convulsing under the pressure of his stomach, and he had to devote all of his concentration to keep it locked. He clenched his eyes shut, his attention shifting to something else entirely, what was once a wish for this to be over quickly turned into begging for it to not happen again. Not there.

“Think you can make it to the restroom this time?” Kaeya asked, but didn’t get an answer other than a shake of his head. Diluc had his lips pressed into a thin line, his soiled gloved hand, now cold and slimy still hovering close to his mouth. “Come on, get up. No point in staying here, making a further mess”, he ordered, now frantic.

Not so carefully, the cavalry captain laced his arms under his sickly brother and scooped him off the floor, his form going limp under his touch like a fancily dressed sack of potatoes. Diluc let out a struggling whimper as the motion sent his innards into a painful knot, a newfound wave of nausea slamming into him as he suddenly became vertical.

He tried to say something, but as Kaeya threw his hand over his shoulder, letting his chin rest on him, he attempted to take a step. Diluc barely had the strength to turn his head before his cheeks bulged out, vomit spraying past his lips and coating the front of Kaeya’s chest.

“Ugh, shit…”, Kaeya could only lament as he felt solid pieces slide down his cleavage, the warm stomach acid soaking into the fabric of his clothes and quickly cooling. Was that his punishment for the poisoning?

He noticed Diluc’s ragged breaths were leaving a strange fleeting warmth on his neck while his skin was burning up, his chest hitching as he could tell he was trying to keep himself from throwing up once more. “It’s fine, you’re fine. Just try to breathe, okay? We’ve got a short walk ahead of us.”

Diluc gave a weak groan in response, his constant gulping so close to his ear it was unnerving, but he kept himself fairly awake, although with eyes closed to spare him of the blurred sights. He could tell Kaeya was struggling to carry him, given the small portions of alcohol still rushing along with his blood, but they made it up the stairs in less time than he could count, all the while reassuring him that everything would be alright.

It was fitting, almost, he thought, with how many times he had been vomited on by him during a drunk night, even more so in their youths. Diluc didn't have much time to ponder on it, his mind seemed to be working at a snail’s pace, and before he noticed, he was being lowered in front of a toilet bowl.

“There you go”, Kaeya huffed, kneeling along with him and only letting go when he saw Diluc wrap his arms around the cold porcelain, groaning pitifully. “May I? Rub your back now? You look like you need it.”

The sickly man wasn't up for conversation, he leaned further into the bowl, his face looming several inches away from the water and below.

“You… smell”, he grunted and spat a thick gob of foul-tasting saliva. “...disgusting.”

“The nerve”, Kaeya said, feigning the indignation in his voice, a hand hovering over his chest but not daring to touch the mess smeared over it. “That would be a no?”, no response except a small pitiful gag. “I'll just… leave you to it, then. Call me if you need it, I'll be just around the corner, changing out of these.”

He turned to leave, taking his sweet time to put his hand around the doorknob, in the middle of turning it, the door creeping open, he heard:

“...wait”, and he did, watching from over his shoulder as Diluc gripped the toilet bowl, gagging empty into it. “Can you… guh, fix my hair? It's getting in my eyes.”

The way he said it and the tone of his voice, almost like he was begging, had Kaeya's heart splitting into, kneeling back down beside his sickly brother.

“Of course”, he murmured a confirmation, taking the fiery red ponytail and carefully undoing it, holding the hair tie between his lips. Ever so gently touching his skin with the tip of his fingers as he brushed the strands and gathered them in his hand.

Diluc's hair was long and silky, his soft curls reaching to the middle of his back. He was almost distracted by the lack of cut when he noticed him tense up under his hands, a shuddering breath escaping his nose. He heard him swallowing, the pained gurgles of his insides, and he knew it.

“Go ahead, I've got you”, he instructed with the tie still between his lips, keeping Diluc's long hair behind his head with one hand, the other holding his feverish forehead and his uncut bangs out of the way. “Don't worry, I'm here.”

Diluc groaned in acknowledgment, not another second passing before a short belch cut through his throat. He pitched forward, a lengthy gush of puke coming up without much struggle, splattering into the water. Kaeya's hands followed his movements, applying a slight chilly touch to Diluc's scorching skin, gently guiding him through the motions as he kept heaving, the stream thinning out into a false stop.

“Easy… Just try to breathe”, he coaxed in a gentle whisper. “Breathe, Diluc… That's it.”

He tried, but his breathing sounded wet and desperate, setting into motion a fit of painful coughing as something got caught in his nose. It felt like his food pipe was rattling inside his chest, shaking until it came loose, sending vomit flushing out of him without any warning.

“That's it, get everything out”, he repeated, bothering with tucking the strands of his brother's hair behind his ear before he used the now free hand to rub his back.

Gurgling painful retches poured off Diluc at the same pace his stomach poured out of his mouth, in large bouts of sick guzzling out of him, continuously splashing inside the toilet loudly. It was no longer that concentrated purple color, now a less augmented more pinkish color, laced with reds of meats and browns of pastries, greens of leaves, and bright yellows of his stomach juices.

At that point, he didn't even want to think about the birthday cake, the guests who saw him, and their faces of disgust, but it kept lingering in the front of his mind. The guilt, the shame, the humiliation, leaving him stranded in an isle of pure cold panic.

“Shh, calm down. I'm right here”, Kaeya kept whispering, twirling the red hair around his hand to allow his fingers to caress his scalp. “You're okay…”

He wasn't, he was nearly drowning in his own sick, powerless to stop his body from purging its insides onto the toilet bowl. He could only alternate between wet coughs whenever he could breathe around the torrent leaving his mouth, and greedy gasps for air.

The water in the toilet had been thoroughly covered by layers upon layers of vomit, his stomach now tapping into what he had for breakfast that morning, the memory too buried under racing thoughts for him to even go look for it.

His eyes would flutter open as tears stung, but the sights of his own mess, the detailed chunks of barely digested food, clumps of wet bread and meat, cut-up vegetables, all bathed in glistening bile. It had him gagging further, forcing him to empty his stomach thoroughly, purging anything that came in contact with that horrid drink.

“Keep going now. Get it all out.”

Kaeya's words were being drowned out by his gurgling retches, losing their meaning every time he chose to say them. Yet, the hand on his back, tracing up and down the line of his spine, sent a welcoming cold to his feverish skin.

It seemed like it lasted forever, but eventually, he was left dry retching, his stomach nearly empty and sour like a popped balloon. There was a mixture of drool, snot, and warm puke hanging from his face in heavy threads, connecting him to the horrors below.

He spat viscously, trying to rid his mouth of that horrid taste, thick gobs of dense spit joining the top coating of congealed vomit in the toilet. He tried not to think of the possibility of it getting clogged.

“There you go, all done”, Kaeya said finally, hoping to be right this time. “That was… a lot, no wonder you were in so much pain. But it's okay now, you're done, right? You're okay?”

To his surprise, Diluc let out a shaking hum of confirmation, slightly nodding his head. There was nothing in his gray complexion and feverish skin that screamed okay, but still, he tried.

Kaeya went back to tending to his hair before he had the chance to interrupt it, arranging it in a low loose bun and tucking the strands that didn't make it in behind his ears.

“How are you feeling?”, he asked, running his palm over his back. “Better now that you managed to puke?”

“Ugh… I don't know”, Diluc groaned, not daring to raise his head from the bowl. “My stomach still… feels so sick.”

“Hum… this isn't good”, the captain sighed, guilt was creeping around in his chest. “I'm sorry, Diluc.”

“About…?”

“The juice was probably spoiled”, he finally admitted, genuine remorse boarding his voice. “I'm so sorry you had to go through this.”

Diluc gagged in his mouth, the realization sinking into his stomach like a rock in the middle of a lake. He knew it, he told him, but now, he barely had the energy to be angry. He slumped further into the toilet bowl, parting his lips to let a trickle of watery bile drip out and join the vomit below.

“Ugh… you're horrible, you know that?”, he panted, squeezing his eyes with newfound pain.

“Now that's going a bit too far. I already apologized”, Kaeya said simply, giving certainty that he wasn't all that sorry. Just guilty.

“You got me sick”, he muttered, sounding miserable. “Asshole.”

“Rude”, then silence, until a shy knock came at the door, giving both of them pause. “It might be Jean.”

Kaeya stood up and turned the door handle against Diluc's faint protests, he opened a creak to find the Acting Grandmaster herself, standing there wide-eyed, cradling supplies in her arms.

“Did he…?”, she asked, wrinkling her nose as she eyed the dried stains of caked vomit on his clothes and shoes, the trickle going down his bare chest, even in his hair over his shoulder.

“Yes, yes he did. And in the office, and the hall. And on himself. And now on the toilet, for a change”, Kaeya sighed deeply. “We'll have to quarantine the headquarters, most likely.”

“Don't even joke about it, please”, she returned the sigh, hers sounding more grieving. “So, how is he?”

“He's running a fever, complaining his stomach hurts. And it wouldn't surprise me if he managed to puke his childhood memories too”, Kaeya gave the rundown, trying to inject some unwanted humor into his summary. He barely earned a chuckle out of her. “Looks like food poisoning, but I think he was the only one that drank that grape juice.”

“My goodness”, she whispered, her eyes fixed on Kaeya's ruined shoes. “I'll go see if Barbara can help him in any way, but… I'm not too sure her vision allows her to cure these types of ailments. I mean, not even I–”

“Just… have medicine at the ready, in case”, he asked, watching as she shook her head and started rummaging through the stack of supplies in her arms.

“Here”, she extended a pile of folded clothes, he recognized it as a basic training uniform sewed together in all colors of thread. “I brought a change for him, but you look like you need it more.”

“Oh, thank you”, he took the clothes through the crack in the door, holding them away from his body. “Oh, actually, good thing you're here. Is the guest's room available, or is it still another storage room?”

“No, no, I just finished tidying it. You can take him there if you want”, Jean added, her expression indicating she had just forgotten it. “Do you need help taking him there?”

“It would be ideal, yes. But I'm sure he would never forgive himself if he got sick all over you too”, Kaeya added, eyeing over his shoulders the figure hunched over the toilet, barely moving.

“I really don't mind”, she said truthfully. “It wouldn't be the first, and besides, I've dealt with sickness before. It wouldn't be an issue.”

“If you insist. I'll go talk to him”, Kaeya decided, handing back the pile before he started closing the door.

“I'll put these away while you're at it.”

The door gently clicked shut behind Kaeya and he went back to kneeling where he was, laying a hand on Diluc's curved back to check how he was. His breathing was shallow, almost unnoticeable, but he slightly tilted his head to see the captain by his side, a look of pity on his face.

“Hey… How are you holding up?”, he asked, failing to recognize the irony in the phrase, he wasn't holding much of anything anymore. “Still… sick?”

He hummed weakly in response, struggling to keep himself awake, his eyes rolling to the back of his head only to return even glossier. The door creaked open.

“You're not planning on sleeping here, are you?” Kaeya joked but had a small suspicion the answer could be yes. “Well, there's a room at the end of the hallway waiting for you. Think you can make it there? Jean and I are here to help you.”

Diluc barely had the strength to respond, much less register the third person in the room with them, so he let out a short huff, indicating he had heard him. The nausea still hadn't cleared, but at that point, his stomach was so empty he could feel it sticking together like crumpled paper.

“Good”, Kaeya said, peeling his sickly brother off the floor and gently wrapping his arm around his neck. Diluc. “Up we go”, he said, slowly rising and supporting Diluc's whole weight over his shoulders. He felt a second pair of hands take his other arm, leaving him dangling between two tall figures. “Come on now.”

Jean didn't say a word until they reached the room, helping lower Diluc onto the bed. The man's weight off her barely made a difference. He sat there, looking half dead, supported by one of Kaeya's hands on his shoulder.

“We should try and get him to drink some water”, she commented, going to the old dusty nightstand and taking the bottle of water she had brought in earlier.

“Diluc? Would you like to drink some water?” Kaeya called, halfway through peeling his dirty gloves off. He simply shook his head, almost swaying in place. “Not now, then.”

Jean didn't insist, taking pity on seeing her former captain in such a miserable state, she stayed quiet, unsure of what to say as she watched Kaeya undo Diluc's attire, removing his shoes and helping him lay down.

“I'll stay with him 'till he sleeps if you don't mind. He's still running a fever”, he suggested, beginning to undo his own clothes with his back turned to her, a way to assure she would leave. “You should be heading home. It's quite late already.”

“Uh, alright…”, she said. “I'll be back in the morning with Barbara.”

The door opened, the door closed, and the two of them were left alone, in deafening silent swimming in his ears. Kaeya finished changing and sat down, laying a chilled hand onto Diluc's forehead, their skins melting against one another.

“I'm sorry…”, he whispered one more, meaning it, but Diluc had already drifted off to sleep.

[resbangmod]

Resbang 2021 Promo #5

We Share More Than Pointed Ears

presented by author: @justpocketchange​ with artist: @emmyyq​ [ Twitter ] and artist: @Madd

Pairings: Soul/Maka Rating: R/M Warnings: Violence, Mentioned child abuse, Phantom limb syndrome, mild sexual content, Wes Evans

Summary: When an assassination attempt on the elven monarchy goes wrong, former captain of the royal faerie guard, Maka Albarn, is sent on a solo mission to search for, and bring back, the crown elf prince’s runaway younger brother, Solomon Evans. Being natural enemies, traveling together surely won't end well. But perhaps they have more in common than they realize. There are bound to be similarities between a wingless faerie and an elf born without magika. Meanwhile back in the kingdom of Setemir, Mortimer Death, the faerie prince, must deal with the pressures of a war and becoming king, as well as worrying over his best friend. But will a letter exchange between him and one Wesley Evans reveal the truth about this centuries-long war between their peoples?

Please enjoy the story and art previews below the cut!

“You’re going to get out of that chair and come with me. Quietly.” The less attention the better. It would make it easy for her to slip out without wasting time.

The supposed prince could feel the tip of something sharp sticking at the center of his back. Whatever weapon it was, it was well concealed under that cloak. He didn’t exactly have any acquaintances around and the bartender was serving someone at the moment, so he couldn’t reach out for help. “Why should I?” he asked. “You can’t kill me, right? I don’t see why I should listen to you.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand.” The woman pushed the sharp object a bit further into his skin, probably taking satisfaction in the way he hissed out a curse under his breath. “You’re going to get your ass out of that seat and come with me. The Evans’s Court may want you back in one piece, but I don’t like them and I certainly don’t care for you. Returning you alive is enough for me, and it should be for those damned elves.”

The man turned to sneer at the stranger, but made no other movements aside from slowly standing up from his chair. He was being led towards the door, but they only got a few steps in before he whipped around in a flash. He gave her no time to think as he yanked the arm with the offending sharp object and shoved her away roughly.

Being unprepared for the immediate assault, the stranger was unable to keep her balance and fell to the ground. So much for not gathering attention.

The elf quickly bent down to pick up the dagger she dropped. He didn’t need to study it long to tell that the design was familiar somehow. “I’m not going back. I’m not Solomon Evans anymore,” he whispered to himself, before he looked at her, eyes widening. The hood that was obscuring the stranger's face had fallen down. His focus zeroed in on one thing in particular: short, pointed ears. He flitted his gaze back to the dagger and it clicked instantly. “You’re a faerie.”

She heard the way he said it, like it was a disease, and her green eyes met his red, somehow more fiery. “Yes,” she responded coldly, suppressing the urge to release her boiling rage.

The white-haired man scoffed loudly before standing back up. “My brother sent a fucking pixie to drag me back? I dunno what’s more crazy, the fact that they didn’t kill you or the fact that you’ve come all the way here and haven’t run away. Are all of your kind this stupid?”

If looks could kill, the elf would be a dead man. “I’m not a pixie, you pompous ass.” All eyes were on them by now as she lifted herself off of the floor with ease. The man, being an elf, stood in front of her like a giant, but she still stood tall. “I’m a faerie. And I’m dragging you back whether you like it or not, Evan-”

“Eater. Soul Eater, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t care what you go by, elf.” It was her turn to spit out his race like poison. The faerie placed her hand on a hilt, another weapon. “If you won’t come with me willingly, then I’ll make you come by force.”

“HOLD IT!” a voice thundered, and everyone’s attention followed the source. An orc man pushed through the crowd that had formed until he reached the center of the chaos. “I don’t want any blood in my establishment! No one's fighting in here.”

Soul appeared relieved. “Exactly as he said. You can’t touch me and I ain’t leaving.”

“You’ll take it outside, instead.”

Soul blanched. “I’m sorry?”

The orc placed both hands on each shoulder of the two. “I for one would love to see an elf and a faerie duke it out, without weapons or any of that magic crap for once. Just good ol’ fashion fisticuffs!”

“Joe-”

“How about you two make a deal,” the orc said suddenly getting serious. “If she knocks you out or restrains you long enough, you have to go with her. But-” he turned to the faerie woman. “If he does either of those to you, you have to get out of here for good. How’s that sound?”

“You’re playing ring master now? I’m not agreeing to this!” Soul shouted.

“Neither am I. I’m not here to play any games, I’m here to take him with me.”

“Well, see, that’s just not gonna fly.” Joe’s hand suddenly clenched harder on her shoulder. She willed herself not to wince at the orc’s iron grip. “Either you two fight it out or we’ll all make sure you stay out. And I don’t think either of us want that much bloodshed involved. So, what’ll it be?”

[the-sympathetic-villain]

L’Appel Du Vide - Chapter 5

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Logan has been captured by a government agency who researches human with  supernatural powers. Able to manipulate the world with his mind and tell what others  are thinking, Logan finds himself in one of the most high security  government prisons in the country that’s run by a sinister Dr. Emile  Picani.

Endgame pairings: Lociet, Intruality, Prinxiety

Word Count: 2837

Chapter Warnings: Torture, Restraints, Medical Experimentation, Abuse, Violence, Death Mention, Swearing, Crying, Abuse of Power, Blood, Gunshot, Guns, Injury, Wounds, Lack of Proper Medical Care, Mentions of Poison, Pain, Lack of Self-Worth, Mentions of Sedation, Mentions of Blackmail, Captivity, Implication of Malnutrition, Suicidal Ideation (Let me know if I missed anything! 

-

    Logan's stomach lurched at the sound of a drill whirred closer his temple. His muscles went rigid with tension as he bit down on his gag and pulled against his restraints, barely moving the think leather straps holding him to the table.

    "Time to find out what makes you so special.”

    Fighting held no reward for Logan as the darkness closed in on him. His limbs remained pinned to the cold metal, leaving him breathless as he listened to Picani's happy hum. He had to choke back a whimper as he felt the doctor push his hair aside, holding him in place as the shrill sound of the drill grew louder.

    Fuck.

    This is the end.

    Tears burned on his cheeks, trapped by the blindfold tied tightly around his eyes. His survival instincts jumped to life as the drill inched closer, flooding his body with adrenaline. The nervous energy jumped to his fingertips, tingling as another mind took control of his power.

    They needed to see.

    They needed to see now.

    Logan's muscles tensed as energy pulsed from his body with a rumble. He could hear the sounds of panic as the movement drew the attention of the room.

    “Stop him.”

    The doctor’s growl raised the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck as the sound of footsteps rushed towards him, but he knew damage was done. A shimmer of light peaked through the bottom of his blindfold as he caught sight of Picani. The doctor's lab coat lay haphazardly on his shoulder as he righted himself from where he’d been pushed over, baring his teeth furiously at the table where Logan lay.

    An unfamiliar smile spread across Logan's face, bringing a flash of panic to Picani’s eyes. The brief moment of weakness was swallowed by the doctor’s anger as he strode forward. Logan felt a calm wash over him as a foreign consciousness moved his muscles and energy started to crackle around his body.

    “Don't you dare—”

    An enormous pulse of energy jumped from Logan’s fingertips up to his eyes in an instant, sucking away his breath as his body started to shake. Screams echoed against the walls of the room as bright light flooded his senses, chaos swelling around him as his mind faded into oblivion.

-

    “L, wake up!”

    Logan shot upright. His instincts kicked in immediately as alarms blasted in his ear. Moving on pure unchecked though, he started to move off the bed. The movement jarred to a stop as Virgil landed a blow on the back of his knees, buckling them to the ground. Hid new ally’s hand caught the back of his head, pressing his forehead into the stiff mattress as he hissed in Logan’s.

    “Get you hands on your head!”

    “What—”

    “Just do it, L! Don’t—Shit.”

    Logan's hands had barely reached his head as the seal on the door released, slamming open with an earth-shattering bang.

    “Don't lift your head.” Virgil’s voice growled next to Logan’s ear as the pressure of his hands lifted off his back. “No matter what you hear. Just don't move.”

    “On the ground. Now.”

    “Don’t shoot. I’m doing what you—”

    The sudden sickening shot of a gun nearly shattered Logan’s eardrums as he pressed his forehead into the edge of the bed. A shriek was ripped from his throat as he heard a soft thud on the ground behind him. His stomach churned with dread, shaking violently as the sound echoed off the walls around them.

    “Virgil—”

    Don't. Move.

    Logan froze as Virgil’s voice resonated in his head. His muscles went rigid with indecision as he held his head to the mattress, guilt rising like bile in the back of his throat as the guard rushed Virgil’s body.   He stiffened as the guard's foot came down on Virgil’s shoulder, pulling pained groan from his now ally.

    “Stay down or you'll get worse.”

    “Fuck you.”

    Another shot cracked behind Logan's head, leaving him shaken as he forced himself to remain upright. The guard's gruff swears were muffled by the blaring sound of the alarm as he stepped over Virgil toward him.

    Logan held his breath, fingers still entangled in his hair as the guard’s hand closed around the back of his neck. He fell in line as he was yanked toward the bed post, keeping his head down as the rough treatment nearly toppled him over. His clumsiness drew an exasperated groan from his assailant as Logan’s arm was snapped into a cuff and attached to the bed frame.

    Logan choked out a whimper as the guard loomed over him. The man's stare lingered as if considering further punishment before thinking better of the decision and stepping back toward Virgil. The cuff around Logan’s wrist dug into his skin as he bowed his head, straining to get a look at Virgil in his periphery.

    “Get up.”

    The guard lowered his pistol to Virgil’s unmoving form on the ground with a rough nudge of his foot.

    “Now.”

    Logan let out a gasp, nearly collapsing with relief as Virgil reluctantly slid himself to his knees, holding his gut as he reluctantly dragged himself upright.

    “Get a move on. I've got other cretins to secure”

    “I'd be done already if you hadn't shot me.”

    “You'd also be done if you'd quit running your mouth, freak.”

    “Whatever.”

    Logan clung to the bed, shaking in shock as the man kicked Virgil into the bed frame. The action seemed to stun him. He didn’t fight back, limply acquiescing as the guard attached his wrist to the post of the bed frame. Out of the corner of his eye, Logan could see a glint of bitterness in Virgil’s glare when the guard finally walked away. He watched Virgil clutching his gut as the guard stood up, waiting restlessly until the man disappeared through their cell door before spinning to face the other cot.

    “Virgil—”

    “I'm fine, L. It just—hurts.”

    “You were shot.” Logan yanked on his cuff. He briefly considered dragging the bed across the room before remembering the cot was bolted to the floor. “You need immediate medical attention.”

    “S’not a real bullet, L.” Virgil choked on each word as his head dipped to his chest, dark hair covering his eyes. “Just a neurotoxin—be fine in a day or two.”

    “You’re bleeding.”

    “I'm always bleeding. It's not a big deal.”

    “Virgil.” Logan shoulders sank as Virgil rolled onto his side. His face twisted in pain as he clutched his stomach. “You can’t keep doing this for me. Patton is right to worry about you sacrificing yourself for others. You'll get yourself killed.”

    “Lecture me later, professor. I wasn’t trying to get the shit kicked out of me.” Virgil’s voice cracked as he went limp against the bed, hand bloody as he lifted it to examine his wound. “I should have had enough time to help you and get back to my own bed, but that fucking bastard must have been right outside the door. Just waiting. He—FUCK.”

    Virgil’s form was solid in the red light, his illusory powers doused by the cuff on his wrist. Logan fell silent as his eyes traced the Virgil’s bruises up to dark spot on his shoulder. The red stain dripped onto the tile floor, making Virgil’s attempt at gruff confidence seem hollow as he lifted his eyes to Logan.

    “Oh, shit. That was fucking loud.” Virgil chewed his lip, breathing heavily. “Patton, he hasn’t—?"

    “I'm sorry, Virgil.” Logan cut him off quietly. “Patton hasn't reached out to me in a few days.”

    “Can you check on him?”

    Logan’s heart dropped as desperation flashed across Virgil’s expression. “That's not really how our communication works. His ability to astral project is the reason we are able to communicate at long distances, so it is necessary for him to be the one to initiate contact.”

    “Something’s up. Why wouldn’t he show up after an blast like that?”

    “I wouldn’t worry, Virgil.” Logan reassured him. “Utilizing his power undoubtedly requires a fair amount of energy. Given the amount of sedatives he receives daily, it may take time for him to be lucid enough to reach out.”

    “He's your friend too, L.”

    “I know.” Logan let out a long breath, struggling to keep his voice steady as he pulled his knees to his chest. “but your bond with him predates anything I share with either of you.”

    “That's bullshit.”

    “Virgil, it's fine. I'm not asking for more.”

    “My history with Patton was a lifetime ago." Virgil pushed himself upright, gesturing around them. “You’ve been here with me. Dealing with that bastard, Picani, for months—Shit, you fucking matter to us, L. Stop acting like you don’t.”

    Logan felt his heart skip a beat as he watched Virgil’s head dip with exhaustion. A small smile spread on his lips as an unexpected warmth spread across his chest, watching as Virgil turned to yank irritably on his cuff, testing the restraint before slumping back against his cot.

    “Thank you, Virgil.”

    “Don’t thank me yet. Shit's about to get worse and there’s nothing I can do about it.” Virgil growled as his eyes shot to the door. “Picani’s always in a mood after something like this happens.”

    “What do you mean?"

    “Someone went nuclear, L.” Virgil's hair dipped over his eyes as he watched Logan curiously. “Before all the alarms starting blaring, I woke up because you were moving. It was quiet for a split second and then there was an explosion. Shook the whole goddamn room and you were ready to sleep right through it.”

    “I was moving in my sleep?”

    “Mumblin' under your breath and everything.” Virgil paused to take a breath, watching Logan as the memories from earlier suddenly came rushing back. “It's not a big deal, L. Nightmares are a given when you’re living here.”

    “It wasn’t a nightmare.”

    Logan’s eyes darted to the wall of mirrored windows, cautious as he lowered his voice. His mind raced as he started to put the pieces of the returning memories back together.

    “Course it was, L.” Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “What else would it be?"

    “I don’t dream, Virgil. I never have.” Logan’s eyes narrowed at the wall of windows as the alarm abruptly fell silent. He dropped his tone further as he bowed his head, hiding his lips from the cameras in the corners of the room. “The only occurrences I have that resemble dreams happen when someone hijacked my powers.”

    Virgil breathing stopped. His practiced movements remained subtle, despite the surprise in his voice when he finally managed a whisper. “That can happen?”

    “Under rare circumstances and only by a particularly talented individual.” Logan leaned his shoulder into his cot. “Very few people have the training and discipline to amplify their mental voice enough to make their thoughts known to me, let alone guide my telekinetic abilities to their benefit.”

    Virgil winced as he cautiously eyed Logan. “But you've heard me before. Haven’t you?”

    “A person with no telepathic training can be capable of drawing my attention but usually only under intense emotional pressure. In my experience, cases where the offending individual is manipulating my perception through training and practice are far more worrisome.” Logan sucked on his lip, feeling a shudder rush over his skin as Dr. Picani’s face flashed through his mind. He bit his lip, forcing his face to remain neutral. He didn’t want to worry Virgil anymore than necessary when he was already bleeding out on the floor. “But in this particular case, I do believe the man in my vision used his own telepathic abilities to reach out to me.”

    Red light glinted off the surface of the glass as Virgil turned back to him. “They used their mind to steal your powers?”

    “To be more accurate, I would say they used their own gift to sway me to use my own powers.” Logan shook his head, feeling a headache starting in the back of his head. “Their emotions came surging over the connection and I could tell they wanted to blindfold removed. It felt like they were asking help, but I lost the connection. I don’t even know if they’re okay.”

    “Wait.” Virgil’s voice had dropped. His voice burned with an unnerving intensity that immediately killed the words on Logan’s lips. “The person that took over your powers—They needed their blindfold removed?”

    Logan lifted his head. His ears still rang from the blaring of the alarm but Virgil’s sudden silence unnerved him even more. His new ally stared directly at him, no longer bothering to conceal their conversation. Intense emotion radiated off him like a heat, showing through the fire in his eyes as he leaned forward against his restraints.

    “Yes.” Logan swallowed the nervous lump in his stomach as Virgil winced, clutching his stomach. “I assume their power was limited by their ability to see. Once I eliminated the barrier, they were free to—”

    “What color was the flash?”

    Logan's words failed him as Virgil leaned forward, his cuff digging into his wrist as he tried to get closer to Logan. The pool of blood under him grew as he strained towards Logan with a wild look in his eyes as he waited for an answer.

    “Virgil, are you okay? You’re—”

    “Just answer the question, damnit. I need to know.”

    Virgil’s face twisted with anger as he snapped at Logan, sending a shiver down Logan’s spine. His neck bowed instinctively as he shrank away from the anger.

    “I don't know.”

    “Try to remember.”

    “I’m sorry. It happened so fast.”

    “Did you see what they looked like?”

    Logan chewed his lip, trying desperately fighting to restrain the nervous habit before he drew blood. “I was looking out of their eyes. I couldn’t see their body.”

    “What about their voice?”

    “I don’t know. I'm sorry, Virgil.” Logan felt his face burn as he looked at the ground. “They didn't speak.”

    “Shit, L. That’s not good.” Virgil’s dark eyes glinted, pitch-black against his paling skin in the red light. “If you connected with who I think you did, I'm in trouble.”

    Logan felt a numbness spread across his chest as a tremor entered Virgil’s voice. “What do you mean, Virgil?”

    Virgil raised his hands to his ears, hands bloody as he tried to steady himself through broken breaths. “Patton keeps this entire facility running. The only reason he hasn’t killed me is because it keep his grip on Patton iron-tight.”

    “What does that have to do with the explosion?”

    “Patton and I have people on the outside.” Virgil swallowed, his gaze distant. “I have a brother—and a husband—They’re looking for Patton and myself. If Remus made scene, Picani will move us before they’re able to track us.”

    Logan sucked on his lip, ignoring the pit that dropped in his stomach. “You have a husband?”

    “In every sense that matters.” Virgil muttered as his eyes dropped to the ground. “But that's not the part that matters right now.”

    “I'm going to be alone.”

    Virgil's hand shook as his voice dropped to a weak whimper. “Logan—I'm so sorry.”

    The realization hit Logan like a punch to the gut. Layers of different shades of bruises and incisions colored most of Logan’s body, showing the stages of Picani’s attempts to break him. He’d only barely managed to stay sane by holding onto the few connections he'd managed to build here.  Being alone wasn’t something he'd even considered.

    “I don’t want to leave you, L.”

    “It's not your fault.” Logan tucked his arms around his waist. His skin felt taut around his ribs, feeling a creeping awareness of the scars tracing his body as Virgil’s voice cracked with fear. He looked up. The circles under Virgil’s eyes had darkened in the crimson light as his fingertips tugged anxiously on the ends of his hair. “Whatever happens, it's not your fault.”

   “Virgil,” Logan’s voice was breathless, his hands shaking a he reached for Virgil’s wrist. “I—”

    “I can’t, L. I won't survive it.” Virgil threw down his hands. “I know Patton wants me to keep going but I've got nothing left to give.”

    Logan’s hand closed around Virgil’s wrist as his rambling devolved into muffled sobs.  His friend’s grief became indistinguishable from his own as Virgil held his forearm, straining against his restraints to keep the contact.

    “Just a little longer, Virgil.” Logan swallowed, his throat raw as he squeezed Logan’s arm. He felt the weight of Virgil’s despair on his shoulders, selfishly clinging to Virgil’s presence. “Please don’t leave me yet.”

    "I'm trying, but I'm so tired."

    "I know, Virgil.

    Tears flowed freely down his face, but Logan kept a steady grip on Virgil's wrist as his new friend slowly faded into an uneasy half-consciousness. His brittle body neared the point of collapse as he watched Virgil sleep, not daring to hope for a miracle in this dark hour. He remained steady, clasping Virgil's wrist until sleep pulled him into its icy grip.

-

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

L’Appel Du Vide Taglist:

@demon9980

[d3monslust]

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 - 𝐀.𝐃.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Only setting up traps for them , Andy didn't see any of this coming

𝐖𝐂 : 3,151

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage & abusive relationships , cheating , manipulation , violence

𝐀/𝐍 : tumblr deleted the original and I thought for couple of minutes I haven’t backed it up to the point I had a panic attack :) also I worked really hard for this , any kind of interaction is appreciated!!

////////////////June 7th 2020\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Every story has a happy ending , where the villain gets defeated and the heroes win , but in eden , no one could recognize the corruption and the decent. Everyone hid their darkest and filthiest desires deep down inside them , in their abyss of their souls . Andy knew that , from first hand . He was still getting to know the place , the idle juveniles laying in the sandy beaches , the laughs of the middle aged men echoing through the thickness of the trees’ leaves . A literal paradise ... with no God .

Dolan had promised his wife to keep her safe, and eventually after his decadence , he was more fazed than anything . Their inseparable form could be made out from kilometers ago, their vivid and full of life auras leaving hints of sunshine from time to time . Winning the couple of the year and being stunned was not in their plans but the did not dodge it . Until Dolan started venturing at inexcusable bars , reciprocal pink lipstick decorating one side of his neck while he reclined next to his bond , mumbling about his ambiguous accomplishments. He had her to the point , Mariah felt overwhelmed. The weight of his nifty assets , the gravitas of his clumsy , yet anticipated acts made her scream and wince .

But Mariah David Dolan , did not intend on giving up so easily , only because her husband was demonstrating his incompetent self . Haphazardly, or not , the female found herself at Sherlock’s , who fasty evaluated and corrupted all of her nasty problems . Taken the right measurements, Mariah decided to treat themselves to a dinner , the brunette averting his gaze back from his laptop to his wife. “Did something happen ?” Mariah never cooked , even at special , “crowded” occasions , she wouldn’t lay a finger at the metallic kitchenware . “No . I just though about all the work you’re recently hooked with. A nice dinner with your wife would help you blow off some steam” smirking at the fit of the last words, she left Dolan alone, drowning in his intellectually safe thoughts.

The capriciousness of the vexing atmosphere made the couple exchange some absurd looks. With Andy being the always tired one, sexual intercourse was lost long ago . “Something you would like to say ?” “No .” She went for a debate , any sort of the key for relationships , communication. If that clink unraveled , there would be no sweet salvation for the married couple . “Well , I want to say something.” Andy whispered a silent “go on” as one of their housekeepers wiped off him some of the pasta’s sauce . “I’m pregnant .” the brunette almost choked at the hear , she couldn’t be . “What ?” voice so small , the trait of vulnerability showing .

The fraction made his stomach toss and turn with anticipation, his dreams for the unknown slowly falling apart . “I’m pregnant on the 3rd month .” eyes infested with fury , the blue like sea color dissipated. “And when were you planning on telling me , hm ? When the waters would broke ? Or when the bump would start to show ? Or when you couldn’t fucking miscarriage?” his excessive, painful words ventured to withhold her insurmountable fury . Unceremoniously, his unbeatable character almost took back his sharp words , the marvel Mariah always waited for could intervene their scold and corrupt his grudge . Albeit she had cried and prayed for that baby to come , her husband didn’t yearn it .

“Did you talk to the gynecologist? Can you ?” he stated chastely , reclining his tensed back to the chair . Who could envision Andy Dolan with a child ? The reluctance became vexing , the tension had to be dwindled if she wanted to keep that inexcusable -for him- child . “Yes . We ... discussed and he said that I cannot ... get rid of it .” her unconvincingly words passed from the one ear to the other . He abruptly threw his crystal glass at the respective wall , agitating the woman to run to clean the mess . The hot , ambiguous tears wetting her cheeks . “Cant you just love me ?” she mumbled , her fasty movements elicited a cut from the sharp glass . She hissed at the pain , she wanted to resemble the perfect , sincere , housewife Andy pleased . To conquer the theme , so as to stand next to him with all her lucid pride while clutching his right hand .

And the things became even worse , chaos consuming the island , darkness drowning the residents . But the worst was Andy’s behavior shift . The unintelligible man faltered and his intriguing about his serene family faded , woefully leaving only his malice and possession . Fighting with his own demons , his rigid and virile facade came and ended up resented . The 24-hour absence of the paternal figure made the child cope with egregious insults and quarrels . Curling up in her little bed , her hands covering the ears as not to listen his beloved parents . Was her the reason they fought every night ? And as the family withered , Andy prepared to hit with sweet and sour vengeance .

“Please ...” the woman begged , the tears blocking her already blurry vision . Fatigue in her system degenerating, she tried to refrain this , but Dolan’s wrath could not be avoided . “Please what , hm ? You had a fucking debt ! Look after that damned child . And I swear to god Mariah ^ if something had happened to my daughter!” he scolded . “Oh come on ! Stop acting like you care ! You never did ... you never cared about your family .” His intimidating methods would usually work , and if not he would try for the vicious skin-to-skin contact . Slapping her and looking her terribly weak silhouette, squirming and crying under him . She remained frigid , not wanting to get that answer , Mariah ran to the basement , advancing around the marble halls like a lost puppy . Andy rubbed his stressed temple , waiting for his own kind of wonder to come and take him from this type of hell . The paradise where demons are hidden .

Andy never wanted to become one of them. That vicious, hungry, creatures . Demons . The olds said that if somebody approached the North river he would see a little red creature . A graceful , gorgeous demon . That was bullshit , demons didn't exist , his friend Michael had told him , that poor man - he had taken the subject of claiming to be the Antichrist of the end times too thick . He ended up at an asylum - good man , sick brain . “What are you thinking ?” . God , or whoever , heard him sent him his guardian angel . The nifty woman was everything he wished for . A real living angel . And that chaste, naive flirt shifted into this; whatever that was.

“Nothing to be honest . But let’s not talk about me , hmmm ?” the girl nodded heartily . Y/N had found her person , the one she could trust and never receive betrayal , the one she could cry at and talk about her insurmountable problems . Their meeting was casual - one , two drinks exchanged , some additional winks and the saccharine act of sex to help Y/N realize her feelings. When she was with him , the blithe and sybarite feeling would bloom inside her , becoming as beautiful as a sanguine rose . She chuckled at his works , could describe him as selfless ? No . But to her ... yes . Her despondent self hid his abusive and possessive persona . For her eyes and only , Andy Dolan was a god , innocent and perfect . “I wanted to ask about ... the divorce ? When are you two signing it ?” he had to be astute and answer handily . But they answer was always the same “Oh sweetheart, don’t worry . Mariah is a bit pertinacious but I’ll persuade her , okay ?” and she would fall at the trap , again .

“You’re always answering the same !” maybe today she would revolt and fortunately leave the poisonous love of Andy’s . His eyes shone dangerously, he didn’t want to do this . “Y/N’s not like Mariah” he would remind himself , but the poor girl was sticking her nose almost everywhere . “Aren’t you pleased , hm ? I took you from that fucking clinic , I helped you withdraw and this is your thank you ? I’m disappointed in you , Y/N .” his esoteric character on sight again . His cogent and invidious words caused the sentient girl spill the salty water . The male disdaining to help or comfort . “You deserve this anyway .” she stumbled back , her apprehension increasing whilst seeing him standing up from the bed . That absurdity had to stop , but he had saved her and it was her time now .

As Andy returned home , and the futile try to persuade his wife about the divorce exhausted him , he found himself at his daughter’s room . Observing her sincere and innocent moves . “Daddy ?” “Yes , Baby ?” his far-fetched sweet talk made the two smile in sync . The blonde’s smile making daddy crack . “Can I tell you something?” Andy nodded , hoping the child wouldn’t have read any of his recreational messages . “Mommy told me the reason she doesn’t want you two to break up !” his eyes lit up at her appendix . Perhaps it was the money or the child but anyway - Andy had to know . “What’s that ?” patting his lap for the girl to sit , Hera made herself comfortable at the warmth of his legs . “She said that she won’t let you fool around with every individual who has two holess.” “She said what ?!?!” “Yes , yes but what did she mean when she said “every individual with two holes .” ?” “Not now , Hera .” he quickly placed the kid down , as she sulked at her daddy’s extraordinary behavior.

By the time Andy stated the predicament , Mariah had ruminated on her terms . She should have said this , fuck she really shouldn’t . Her dull and attention-seeking words pushed her husband’s last buttons . “Are you fucking braindead ? What was that you said to my daughter ?!” she knew where that debate would end up . Condescendingly , she wrapped her arms around his neck . Her touch-starved grating amusing his carnal urges . Not wanting to dwell on the situation , Andy let it happen . Her amorous posture , the well-med hair , how didn’t he feel it coming ? Her hands traveling at his shirt’s buttons while Andy’s fingers went for her top . Discarded clothing were soon decorating the floor of their kitchen . His greed for more would eat him up one day . And he waited - patiently and calmly for that day . Her tenuous dominance caused waking up his boredom. But his prurient mind , thought otherwise.

She licked his upper lip , Andy letting her tongue slip into his mouth . The sloppy kiss turning into something more passionate, more loving . “I’ve missed this .” she mumbled in between breaths , making a smirk plaster on Dolan’s face . “I’ve missed you .” he hushed her by kissing her , the loving , lingering kiss making butterflies fly in her stomach . “Andy ?” he groaned at the call , not wanting to eye roll , he approved the question and motivated to go on . “Do you love me ?” “Yes. Only you . And no one else . I know things are hard right now but I’ll make it up to you.”

Bare bodies tangled . Two bodies in one . His hips snapped viciously at hers , hand grabbing a harmful fist of hair . Abruptly pulling it back , making Mariah hiss at the sudden contact of pain . The persona she would only see , not even Y/N , the sadistic one . Her head touching his sweaty torso , the tears in her eyes strengthening his stamina . The coil in her stomach tightened and as the loved noticed it - his hands traveled between her puffy lips , toying with her little bud . “I’m .... im-” her muffled cries interrupting her . “I know baby . Cum , cum with me .” and the coil in her belly broke synchronized with his . The addicting feeling of euphoria engulfing them both . “You did so well .” his sugary words causing her pride to rise , awaking her love for him . Just like the old times . “I love you , Mariah .” she perched at his tight embrace , inhaling his intoxicating scent . “Mhm me too .” she had to savor the moment . Mariah didn’t know what could possibly find her tomorrow .

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And as Andy distanced himself from Y/N, he kept his promise and made up the tangle. At least everything that could be fixed . The insuperable bond they created was ineffable. The somnolent love , almost dead , rose back from the dead . His pernicious and arcane self opened at his therapist . The Dolans couldn’t be happier . Apathy no longer lived between them . No invidious implication wafting around the tensed atmosphere. Just some more scarce , anticipated details and Dolan would finally fall into blithely.

Andy planted the usual good morning kiss on his wife . Excusing himself for his aimless absence on lunch and venturing to the car . The fraction of 2 to months without seeing Y/N, made him tacit. Where was the power Dolan’s hold ? He couldn’t falter, not now. He would withhold and keep things conservative. His conscience screamed no , but he shut it off , not wanting to trust his instincts . Choosing the obliviousness.

Approaching her modern like house , the cars of topical police confused his comprehension. Incompetent to walk inside , albeit he promised not to care - a part which was got circumvented - some of his worry remained to Y/N . “Officer , is she okay ?” the concern in his eyes made the blue - dressed man doubt his accusation . “Sir , are you Mr.Dolan ?” the man let his white scribbling block down , paying full attention to the brunette . “In the flesh .” two more patrols approaching, no feeling of timidity in their eyes . His envision had to be mendacious . A prosaic one , more realistic. “Andy Dolan you are arrested for the murder of Y/N Y/L/N” his conception blurred, everything changing into automatic. His eyes caught the figure of his wife talking to another police man - she wouldn’t? Would she ?

Everything happened so quickly, the metal handcuffs were clutched onto his hand, the ignominious state making him sentient. He would go to prison and there was no denial in that . At least he would leave Eden .

/////////////// Now \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

He had learnt the news . Mariah was in all this . She had been informed about Andy’s illegal affair , not only with women but with drugs , too . On the one side, she had managed to plan her husband’s perfect suicide but the contradiction she received made her tentative. Therefore she visited the professionals . Sherlock’s beneficial - for both Mariah and him- and handily trap got Dolan arrested . They had planned everything, even the littlest detail . The plan was easy , yet complicated.

He would wake up at 7:15 a.m. as always . Head to the kitchen to make his morning coffee , catch up with Mariah who would accidentally leave the house . His phone would remind him about his last meeting with Y/N , where she would end up thing with him . Or what Mariah had decided to do for her . Y/N had left the island months ago when Mrs.Dolan appeared in her house and threatened to kill her and her soon-to-be-born child. As Andy would drive his way , Sherlock would leave his fingerprint everywhere , placing them carefully at the edges of the gun . Next step would be Y/N’s doppelgänger, nice and murdered next to the white rug .

-

The unbearable route of the dull prison . The thousand of men behind the metal bars , hungry for every kind of fight and sexual intercourse nettled his every atom . Compelling himself not to communicate with anyone , Andy , who had received a life imprisonment lost and the last bit of faith . There was no salvation for him , it never existed . “You have a letter .” the word taking him out of his dwelling thoughts. His family never sent him letters , not that they were coming . Drugs were forbidden, or that was the law applied . “Sender ?” “Unknown .” Andy wasn’t in the mood for playing games . This almost one years in prison erased all of his lenient future. Additionally, alleviating his last mendacious fantasies about life .

Taking the rigid piece of paper , the handwriting of a woman caught his attention . Refraining himself from toring it apart and throwing it to the trash can , he want for abstinence. Cutting the edges with a small knife which used to hide right down his pillow , the form a photo fall on the floor . Inhaling a piece of pure reluctance , Andy took the shiny piece of paper between his hands . The silhouettes of two girls laughing at each other quirked his eye brow . But her ineffable and disheveled beauty stopped his breath . A baby adjoining her side , made him caught the implication . The transparent eligibility to join this family causing him to incandescent. That was his child and his Y/N .

Last thing , eyes traveling at the bottom of the photo

- SHOT WITH NIKON 456 | 6/4/2021 | 7:56 p.m.

And they were alive .

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