#i hate the bhaaltwins

[bloodtwin]

everybody gangsta until puck starts laughing during a tense moment then you know it's about to get UGLY

[bloodtwin]

puck fun fact of the day: he made an earring w/ his twin's tooth after he knocked it out during a durges moment, and it is his favorite accessory that he owns because he is #weird. he does not remember knocking the tooth out btw, even before he lost all his memories. i do not think iago told him either. they just gave it to him later because they were like "omggg i know a guy who would love to have this." and like, they were right. he wears it all the time.

[bloodtwin]

STEELCLAW ? !

nonononononononono . . .

‘ wuzzat ? what did you just say ? ? don't you get that fucking cat, i swear to- IA. IA, GET BACK HERE ! ’

shitshitshitshit OOPS ! 'Oh no. It seems a little rat is scuttling around. I suppose I'll have to go find Steelclaw to do something about this pest problem...' OOPS.

[bloodtwin]

An Apple a Day Keeps The Dark Urges Away. . . Or Not another bhaaltwins flashback. this is based on something @accultant wrote first, but it's from puck's perspective rather than iago's. it's set when they're preteens & living on the streets after puck killed their parents died. cw: average durge moment, violence, sui mention

He bought more apples. Iago seemed to like the one he cut up the day before, so he figured they were a safe bet to purchase again. He’d set the bag down on an unopened box by the door of their new, undoubtedly temporary shelter. Iago didn’t notice him come in, and he’d meant to say hello or clear his throat or anything that would have made his presence known. He didn’t know how or why, but he’d always been more on the sneaky side—even with his tall stature and long legs. Recently, he’d started to hate it more than anything. 

He must have forgotten to speak, or maybe they just didn’t hear him. His voice had always been too soft when he didn’t yell. Iago was absorbed in their task of rifling through the stacks and stacks of boxes, discovering other people’s forgotten trinkets and memories. They liked that sort of thing. 

They must be hungry, Puck had thought, so he grabbed his knife from the bag, intending to cut up another apple for them. Since he’d bought a few, he thought they could even share this one. The knife barely sliced the skin before he dropped the apple in disgust. It sounded like rending flesh from bone. A tremor ran down his spine. The knife twitched in his grasp and seemed to move on its own, pointing toward his sibling. Terror flooded his senses as something stirred underneath his own skeleton, and a thousand red dreams flickered in his mind’s eye. Insatiable hunger swallowed him whole. It was happening again.

He tensed up, gripped the knife tighter, and rooted himself to the spot before consciousness began to fade in and out. He didn’t know how long he stood there, fighting the all-too-familiar urge to plunge the blade into his twin’s heart. It always varied, how long he had to wait it out. Sometimes it was only a few seconds. Sometimes it felt like days. This time, he could see the sun setting in the corner of his eye. The room darkened, doubling his fear of himself. Everything was always so much worse in the dark. 

He strained so terribly that the knife threatened to slip out of his sweaty palms. If he let up even slightly, Iago would die. Their death would be gruesome, slow and exhilarating. It would be his worst nightmare; it would be everything he ever wanted. It was his purpose, his destiny. He could never let it happen. Oh, but he would feel so much better if he just let himself split them open and—

They met his eyes, their own piercing stare snapping him back to himself. Their voice was level, yet the sound grated against Puck’s ears as it cut through the silence. He wanted to press his hands to his ears and scream until his lungs gave in, but he couldn’t move. 

“I can’t reach,” Iago said distantly. “Will you put this one back up for me?” They held out the box in their arms. When did they put everything away? 

The knife dropped from his hand. As he came back to himself, the first thing he registered was the fresh scent in the air. It was what propelled him forward, and it grew stronger the closer he got. It was unlike any scent he’d ever known, and he could not put words to describe it. One day he would realize it was the scent of fear. For now, he only knew that it made him hungry. Deftly, his hands took the box from his sibling and hoisted it above them with ease. Iago was directly underneath as it slid into place. Not that it mattered- he was tall enough to work around them without even the slightest nudge. He was afraid to touch them, anyway. They might bolt, or scream. If they bolted, he would most certainly lunge for them. They might not even get the chance to scream that way. Not that anyone would hear them. 

Stepping back, Puck felt ill, and the feeling only got worse at the sight of Iago’s face. His stomach dropped. They looked at him like he was a monster. So, so afraid like a deer frozen before a predator. He knew they didn’t mean it. They didn’t think he was a monster, not really. But they should have. He was. Only a monster would want to tear his own flesh and blood to shreds like he did. He wished he didn’t drop the knife. His hands itched to stab, and he had just the perfect thing to satisfy them. It was buried inside his rib cage, beating fast and recklessly. 

His ears rang, and Iago sounded like they were underwater when they finally spoke, “Thank you.”

He tried not to cry. Looking past them, he nodded stiffly. Of course, he didn’t say. Of course. I will always help you. I’m sorry I scared you. I’d do anything for you. I’d die for you. Would you kill me if you needed to? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. 

He did not say any of these; he did not say anything at all. He ran.