#i would have loved a 'false. you are not nauseous you are nauseated. i feel fine' somewhere in the series too

[barrymccaulkinem]

sorry for officeposting in 2023 but when Kevin says "you tried to choke me with your shoelace" it bothers me every time that Dwight's response is not "false. I tried to suffocate you with my shoelace"

[sith-shenanigans]

An Exchange of Burdens (Pt. 1)

A Fallen London ficlet, in which Amias makes an arrangement. Heart’s Desire spoilers below the cut.

Divider may be found here.

It’s evening in false-summer, the gaslights burning low outside, on the day you first die.

It’s difficult not to be nervous. You considered having a drink, but the thought made you nauseous. The settee in your apartment feels too soft, too springy, to the point that it’s awkward to sit on the edge. Your fingers tap out a rhythm on one of the armrests—a half-remembered beat from an opera that seared through your mind even as you conducted it. It comes to you in moments of tension, now, when you’re about to fling yourself into the unknown. Even the echo has a sort of power, rattling around in your brain.

You’ve gotten on, since you got here, with the more inhuman of London’s denizens. Devils are fascinating, charming; even the one across from you, in her utterly un-charming way. They wear humanity like clothing—as impeccable as their suits and gowns, but still just a cover, and you don’t carry on conversations with somebody’s fashionable non-Polythremic hat. They delight in things humans wouldn’t, often in ways that humans would hate to have turned on them. Animosity is sometimes a game, as much as affection.

Rubbery Men are difficult to understand, even now, but you’ve tried valiantly to cross the gulfs of language and mindset to make connections. Clay Men are at once very simple and very complex; they sometimes strike you as the overlap between person and action, infused with purpose from the moment of birth. Or, if not, left Unfinished in the dark.

The less said about the Masters—whatever they are, under those robes—and whatever you think about them, the better. You know they’re trapped here. You know that they can get drunk on music, and that they’re captivatingly ungainly when they dance. You suspect they have more than a human number of limbs.

That aria, its soaring immolation, is the closest you have been to being something else. You find yourself remembering it in moments where you’re small or afraid.

Virginia’s animosity is no game at all, except in the ways that it is; poison-sweet, or just poisonous. She’s been knocked out for now, but the Marvellous doesn’t stop. If she kills you for good, she makes two more enemies: Pages and the Manager, incensed that they’ll be unable to go on with the next rounds. She knows she can’t afford that. You know some part of her is tempted, just to prove that you aren’t so clever after all.

But you—you’re not really worth what a Master will do when it’s denied. You know that, too. It’s exhilarating. The song thrums in your skull. This unnecessary risk; this total certainty.

You smile. “Pleasure to see you again,” you say. Soft, calm, in control. You are not on the verge of vibrating out of your skin. “I’d offer you a snifter of brandy”—muscaria, of course—“but I’d hate for you to think I was putting off the moment.” You would love to put off the moment. You could hang in nauseating freefall forever. You’re also a bit concerned she would force you to drink it, which would be a perfectly decent way to die if it didn’t smell precisely and entirely vile. Go to the place you’ve been avoiding, yes, but you’d rather not go there humiliated and reeking like a field of fermented, poisonous mushrooms.

On the table between you is an array of implements, set out on black cloth. They glint or gleam as appropriate; the vial of poison has been guaranteed non-permanently-fatal. It’s laced with something that should make pain easy to forget. All the blades have been sharpened to fine edges—no rusty, blunted gutter-blades for you, after all the time you’ve spent trying to get away from them. You probably take a few too many shortcuts through back alleys in Spite, but that’s no reason to disrespect your own efforts.

Perhaps Virginia would have preferred something more painful. She smiles too, half-lidding her vicious hot-brass eyes, and folds the cloth back over the tableau. “Thank you, my dear,” she says, “but I shan’t be needing those.” She stands, stepping around the table in nearly the same dangerous motion, and you have half a breath to contemplate what she’s about to do before she’s on you.

At your feet, a tigress drowses. A criminal, caught consorting with Fingerkings. With every favor you scraped together during the Coilheart Games, you managed to convince the Court of the Wakeful Eye to let you carry out her sentence—which you already have, when you forced in the poison that slows her breath. Now you fist your fingers into her fur as Virginia’s press into your throat. Your pulse is a glass drum. In a moment, you fancy, it will turn to light.

Her grip tightens. Instinctively, you try to draw in a breath. You can’t. Something—some survival instinct—is screaming. Virginia is still smiling.

You can’t help but struggle. But she holds you down and sends you off.

[Previous / Next]

[nebula-starlight]

Virus (Part 11 - Full Circle)

Geer woke with a pounding headache, seeing first the imprint of his head into the wall before realizing his claws were covered in blood. Panic beginning to churn in his gut, he started to move when he heard a soft snore come from somewhere around him and he froze, eyes going wide as it felt like his heart would beat right out of his chest. Had Nether actually...? No, surely he wasn’t that cruel! He knew the trauma Narssia had endured and would never take advantage of her in such a weakened state... would he?

Rising as he dry swallowed to keep the nausea at bay, he glanced at the bed, shaking slightly in dread at what he’d find but was surprised by the sight of Narssia asleep, the sheets slightly bloodstained in spots. Judging from the lack of sunlight he guessed it was still early in the morning, deciding he had to do something that would hurt them both. As much as he hated it, what had happened during the night could not occur again. Truthfully it was surprising that the authorities hadn’t tracked both of them down at this point. Sure Naris was part of the local clinic staff but to have no one check up on her was odd.

Stepping out of her bedroom, he winced, stumbling against a wall as his breath hissed out from between his jaws. His chest... it felt like a sledgehammer was being pounded against his ribcage. Nether was awake, silent towards him, but desiring control once more. He couldn’t give the soul that satisfaction yet. There was something he desperately needed to do first... after he made one other stop.

Luckily there was a bathroom just on the other side of the kitchen and he quickly darted inside, vision doubling upon itself as his earlier attempts to quell the nauseous feeling failed him. Perhaps it was that the smell of blood had penetrated so deeply into his nostrils that it almost made him gag once, twice even before he even crawled over to the smaller washbasin in acceptance of what was to come. Why he hadn’t gotten sick last night or even the night before he wasn’t sure, not exactly relishing the thought of spilling his guts out. It truly was no secret that blood made him squeamish, despite his prior profession.

Still, the minute he rested his chin on the edge of the carved, colored porcelain he knew his fight was over. Any energy he had left seemed to flee as his jaw opened and the nausea turned into retching, his head dropping into the bowl to spare the rest of the space from being tainted.

What seemed like hours later, Geer slowly left the bathroom and made his way finally into the kitchen, each step shaky as he fought back against the monster stirring inside. Not again! He was spent, exhausted from his earlier retching, but wasn’t about to have a repeat of the night before. Shoulders slumped, he crossed onto the tiled floor with a heavy sigh, eyes lifting wearily as he searched for a scrape of paper and ink. It was for the best. He couldn’t afford to stay any longer, no matter how his heart might long to remain by her side.

Finding what he needed, he leaned against the counter, dipping a single clawtip into the inkwell before beginning to write.

My dearest Naris,

As much as it pains me to have to write this, unfortunately I feel I must. After the events of last night I cannot, in good conscious, stay here any longer. Seeing what that monster did, being unable to prevent any of it... I feel like I failed you so terribly. I had thought maybe that seeing you would help somehow control him - it did not and, instead, only made things worse. Now I see that the two souls can never be allowed to interact. If they are... only death and destruction will follow, that I guarantee. So now I must run. I must find a place away from here, away from... you. I suggest you do the same. Flee what you’ve known as your home. No doubt someone has seen or at least heard of what has happened over the course of these last few days. I fear that the authorities will be coming and I do not wish to have to endure whatever torture they may have planned. Even now I can feel him stirring... He’s angry, furious at me. All because I somehow managed to claw my way back out for just a brief second. Time enough to spare you from whatever dark fantasies roamed through his head. That is not the soul I first met - that, as time passes, I see now why he was considered- called rather, the illusionist. He tricks everyone around him, deceives them with manipulation and false words. All while it benefits him. I truly wish I could stay. If I was able- Had the circumstances been different I- I would have likely asked to court you. I see something in you that reminds me of myself. A determination even in the face of unimaginable tragedy. Never lose that, my dear. Now I must leave-

He flinched, hearing mocking laughter echo around him, his claw frozen over the page for a second before resuming.

I have no idea where I will go but I must find someplace that is isolated, someplace where he cannot reek havoc. As I said before, I suggest that you to do the same. Take nothing- Take one thing with you. The music box. Hopefully it should at least keep her at bay... although I do not know how effective it should be long-term. I love you Narssia. Never forget that.

I treasure you with all my heart,

Geer

He was suddenly jerked back, a panicked scream dying in his throat as the world around him went black...

Nether rolled his shoulders with a painful crack, picking himself up off the floor from where his sudden possession of Geer had caused the drake to fall onto his back. Why the nerve of him to write that whole thing... knowing exactly all the while who hid in waiting. He should have just taken him over sooner and spared himself the headache of having to read that nauseating love-fest. Then again...

He snarled, eyes glowing a deep red as he started for her bedroom, pausing only briefly outside of it to grab the music box in his aura before he returned to the den and hurled the musical trinket at the wall. The wooden case cracked but he wasn’t finished, flicking it at the fireplace before igniting the wood inside with a slight nudge of his magic. Let her see if she could keep that menace controlled without the lull of music! They both deserved to get captured and experimented on while he lived out in the wild away from anyone and everyone.

He hated it! Hated feeling the emotions of each member of the pathetic scaled race who got close to him. Why wouldn’t they leave him alone? All he wanted to do was scream until his lungs gave out but that would no do good, that he knew from experience. Leaving seemed ideal but if the act woke Geer... No, there was no way his host would rouse so soon after being violently pulled under.

Still, he needed something to take the edge off. Something to dull his senses so he wasn’t feeling like he was bouncing all around the room. An excess of emotionally-charged energy never did him any good. Often it always brought out the guilt and he... couldn’t have that. She made her choice. He had done the right thing. No matter what he would stand by that thought. It was the only thing to get him through, besides a strong drink every now and then.

Actually that seemed like the perfect idea...

The tavern was mostly empty when he pushed open the swinging doors, noticing a few patrons lingering about with their drinks as they chatted to others. He could care less, crossing the stained wooden floor as quickly as possible and stepping up to the counter. The low hanging lights pulsed, his concentration flickering for a moment before he came back to alertness and snapped at the dragoness behind the warped wooden bar for a pint of mead. How long had it been since he last drank?

Taking the beverage she hesitantly offered with an already shaking forepaw, he snarled to be left alone as he spotted an empty booth and sat down in it. Staring down into the amber liquid as he swirled it around lazily, Nether tried to tune out the vibes that crawled along his back. Damn his empathy! Even the few around him could sway him... rile up his already heightened senses. Better to just drown himself in alcohol then. Maybe it would also take away the faint whisper in the back of his head that he’d screwed up yet again. Just another failure to add to his long list.

He really wasn’t sure how many he ended up having. The table was littered with overturned mugs and he could barely keep his head up. His vision swam, colors bleeding together as he felt the formerly jovial energy of the place turn dark. Not again... All he wanted was to be forgotten about. Surely no one would deprive him of such a simple request. Just let him drink away the grief in silence...

Apparently his wish wasn’t to be upheld, seeing what he thought was movement from the corner of his eye. Nether sloppily turned towards it, his foreclaws dragging against the worn wood as he brought his remaining beverage with him. Maybe it was just that pretty ‘ness coming with a refill?

Or not.

His head slammed down against the tabletop amidst the sound of breaking glass and something sharp and jagged pressed up on his throat as a raspy, heavily accented voice pulled him from his drunken stupor slightly.

“We don’t tolerate weird strangers here. Either get lost or ya leave with yer tail tucked between yer legs. Hear that punk!”

He wheezed from lack of oxygen, only to then stumble back coughing as a hard punch to his chest landed. They meant business then. That was fine... He could show them how he responded to such violence. Only he had a feeling as his eyes begun to glow softly that they wouldn’t be quite as lively afterwards.

The formerly pristine establishment looked as though a war had erupted inside, blood smeared along the walls and floor alike as Nether sat in the dead center, cleaning bits of organs off his claws. He was always ready for a bloodbath but this one in particular had been rather fine. A true testament to the magic flowing through him. Still, he was a lost soul and what better way to replenish his energy than to cause a little chaos, spill a little blood. Of course he could have been more discreet given there was a pile of bodies against the once welcoming entrance but he did plan on torching it soon enough. He just wanted to have a little fun first...

Fun... When was the last time he could properly say he had fun? Flying with Versi alone had been fun but those days were long passed. Taking another look at the carnage around him, he sighed and staggered to his feet, still gripping one final beverage as he took a sip before walking out.

Memories hurt too much. He never thought he’d admit it but that was the truth. It had been so long ago and yet he kept running, kept trying to put distance between him and those vicious scars. He didn’t even know where he was walking... too distracted by the echos of his bloody past. Why was it always his fault? He killed her... killed so many under the guise of protecting their land. What use was protection if everyone kept dying?!

Screaming out his rage, he broke out into a run, the dirt path under his feet changing gradually into grass and dead leaves. Everything was his fault! If he had never woke in the first place then... Nether blinked, skidding to a stop as his foreclaws dipped into water. A lake? How far out had he gone? Nothing looked familiar around him. Trees devoid of leaves... moist earth under his paws... Where even was he?

Backing up, he glanced around, pulling Geer’s cloak tighter around his body to shield himself from the cold wind that rattled through the empty branches. He’d gotten lost, hadn’t he? Oh well, no one around to see his pitiful state then. Lifting the mug he’d stolen from the tavern, he drank heavily from it, each drop of alcohol burning away his guilt and making his senses even further scrambled. Smashing the now empty mug into the ground beside him, he stared out into the small lake he’d discovered and started to laugh, wobbling unsteadily. He was free! No more was he drowning in that vile poison which leaked from his soul. Even the nuances of the common tongue had returned to him fully as though he’d never lost it in the first place.

His amusement faded, replaced by coughing before he retched into the water. Either he wasn’t used to getting drunk after such a long time or the body he inhabited was a weakling who couldn’t hold down alcohol well. Head spinning, he fell to his haunches, content for once to stay where he was until he could actually focus on what was in front of him.

His fault. His error. His mistake.

Forgotten... Betrayed... Replaced...

“Geer?”

Nether’s head snapped up, irises glowing faintly as he glanced back out of the corner of his eye to see the crouched form of the one being he honestly never expected he’d see again after the letter the cripple had written. He kept still, feeling the cold wind gust against his chest and flutter the edges of his cloak. What could he say? Would words even matter now after how he treated her? It hadn’t been right, he knew that, but the stress had been building up too much and...

“I know I’m not who you expected.” She admitted as she crept closer, her voice strangely husky as though she’d been under a great deal of emotional stress. “Believe me, I wish this wasn’t what I was doing either. I-“ Narssia cut her own words off with a sharp cough, the sound jarring to hear as he continued to remain still as stone. “I wanted to stay away but after this morning... It’s better if you see what I’m talking about.”

“There’s no need,” he whispered, voice cracking on the bitter wind despite her advancing muffled clawclicks. “You’ve made your decision as I did mine. Leaking black ooze is not why you sought me out.”

He heard her stop, expecting she’d leave, but was surprised when she spoke again, the sharp rasp of anger bringing to the surface the faintest sense of his deep guilt. “You forced yourself on me, sir. I remember last night, despite the panic, and want to pass along a message of my own...”

She darted forward, smoke rolling over her body before she rammed into him, the blow sending him spinning. Before he could recover, she had caught up from above and slammed him into the ground with a kick from her hind legs. Grunting as the air was knocked from his lungs, Narssia landed overtop of him and snapped at his exposed throat, spittle flying from her maw as her wings rose protectively from her back.

“I gave you a chance because of him! You ruined everything, illusionist.” She slammed her paw into his throat repeatedly before digging her foreclaws into his breastbone near the mark that had been branded into Geer’s skin. “While I’m not as violent as the glitch... My magic is still a force to be reckoned with. A shadow-breather is one of the more unpredictable elemental-wielders. Of course you wouldn’t be aware of such. A high and mighty fallen Shadowling would care little about how magic has evolved.”

Narssia studied him as Nether coughed, keeping him firmly pinned down on his back. “Test my patience again, I dare you. Better yet...” Her eye color shifted, green shining through briefly before her golden-specked yellow returned. “Why don’t we get away from all this?”

She pressed on his throat again, earning a low, pained growl from the suffering spirit. If she kept it up... His pupils shrank, fear crawling up along his spine. Surely she wasn’t trying to force his magic out. But if what she said was true and shadow-wielders were unpredictable then was he sinking lower into a trap where there was only one answer he could give. Already breathing was becoming difficult, each exhale seeming to set his throat on fire. More than just mere surface wounds apparently.

“Let’s go wherever we want. Any place we can be free of judgement.” The sheer change from anger to excitement in her was startling, despite how relieved Nether was that she stepped back and he was able to tend somewhat to his aching throat.

“Where?” He croaked out, unwilling to move but noticing how her eyes glowed green briefly. She couldn’t be...

“Anywhere! So long as it’s away from those who would try to experiment of us.”

The low rasp he heard shifting through her voice confirmed his suspicions, recognizing she was either tapping into Void’s magic or the broken spirit was manipulating her. No matter which was true, he had to act on her delusions.

“Of course,” he muttered, struggling to roll over onto his belly as she stood practically twitching in place. “Freedom...”

Narssia’s eyes were too wide, too dissociated to indicate she was acting on her own mindset. Suggestive control then. A powerful tool he had also used in the past. Now, how would he make it seem like an accident... He struggled to his feet, wings flickering into existence beside him to make him appear larger.

“All magic comes at a cost, Naris. Now surely you-“ He yelped, stumbling back as she raised her tail threateningly to his neck, eyes glowing green.

There was no friendliness in her gaze, stone cold and deadly as he forced himself to swallow. “Take us, now.”

“As you wish.”

Combining magic had never been majorly successful as a spirit but Nether found Narssia’s inherent shadow magic worked well with his own, pulling them both into a space between worlds. Truthfully it wasn’t far from what he imagined Versi had endured as Void had come into being. Still, even after only mere seconds, the process of seeking her magic back out was difficult with so much nothingness pressing down on him.

It took some time but he eventually found it - a spark of green just barely enough to catch his notice. She’d gone farther out than he expected. No matter, now that he knew where she was catching up wouldn’t be hard. Pushing his own soul out towards it, he felt reality warp, unsure at first why it seemed as though he was passing into another world. That shouldn’t be right... unless he misjudged and another being had a similar energy signature to hers.

“And I will see all you dudes- What the fuck?!”

The mini explosion crossing universes had caused left his ears ringing but, then again, it could also have come from the loud screaming that bombarded his senses. Everything was too bright, too noisy, too green... Wait!

The bipedal creature approaching him was doing so cautiously, thrusting out a baggy scrape of cloth he snatched up and held tight over his exposed lower body despite his crouched position. Where the hell was he? What freaky universe had he been drawn into? And why did he feel like his appearance was the catalyst something far darker needed?

“One, two, Anti’s coming for you...”

The second Nether had thrown them into the space between worlds, her head felt as though it was on fire. All that blissful static turned to angry, seething noise that made it hard to think or do anything. Even the ordinarily simple act of moving was difficult but she managed, scanning the unstable expanse as she went for something she could latch onto to ground herself. Finding a magic signature not unlike Nether, however, wasn’t what she wanted but, rather, what Void responded to as positively as expected.

By the time she crossed the barrier between realms, the corrupted spirit had calmed some, content once more to watch in relative silence...

“And I will see you in the next-“

She groaned, head spinning and feeling warmth under her as she kicked out instinctively, earning a whimper from what only could be considered a lesser animal before her eyes started to adjust. The lights where still too bright but having a bipedal humanoid being standing over her wasn’t what she expected.

Oh Sol, she was definitely not in a world comparable to what she’d known. What horror would the monster inside be able to unleash on this unaware race? Furthermore, why was she drawn here? There was nothing special about the male... If one ignored the odd creaking sound coming from under the floor.

[kpopcorn-requests]

Dead Geeks and Heart Beats Chapter Two

Relationships: Shin Hoseok x Original Character, Seo Johnny x Original Character, Choi Hansol x Original Character

Genre: angst/fluff/romance (horror later probably)

Written by: Admin Lil

Beta’d by: @heartofafae (Thank you so much Miche for being a great friend and willingly beta'ing this for me<3)

Chapter One

The three girls sat in the parking lot of the club where the murders had been occurring. The establishment was surprisingly still running. The air in the all black vehicle was thick, none of the girls wanting to go into the building as use themselves as bait to attract the very person they were hunting. This specific vampire only drained women. He would seduce and then lure them into an alleyway behind the building, and while the victim assumed the next step to further their relationship was sex, he would drink her dry; leaving her empty carcass in the public eye. He was doing it as a threat, a tease to the hunters that they were steps behind and they weren't going to stop him. 

 Iris had been the one to suggest the trio take over the mission. They were the youngest, but they were also three of the most talented hunters, as well as three of the most attractive females in the group. She had suggested that the three girls use themselves as bait to take down the vampire causing all of this terror in the city. Skylar had been the only one to vocalize her objection, saying that using themselves as bait would cause more harm than good; but Iris didn't listen. The other girls made sounds of agreement, but Iris was quick to shut them down. The older woman promised that the three teenagers would be safe, assuring that she would never let anything happen to them; as she cared about them endlessly. The three girls were still apprehensive, but found themselves silently agreeing that their discomfort was easy to pass up if it stopped another useless murder. 

 The plan was simple: The three girls would go into the club and flirt, each hiding the weapon they were more comfortable with somewhere on their body, and find the vampire that was murdering the innocent women. The girls would stay close to one another for fear of anything going wrong; and if anything did happen, they would have each other, like always. Even if the plan was simple and there were immense amounts of backup, the tension in the blacked out vehicle was nauseating. 

 “We’re going to be okay, right?” Skylar piped up from the backseat, and Rosie didn't hesitate to reassure her.

 “Of course we are. We have each other. We've never let each other down before, have we?” The oldest of the three smiled brightly at the younger, ignoring the way Katrina stared at her.

 “Let’s go get this over with, shall we?” Katrina spoke, opening her door in sequence with the other two girls as they walked to the trunk to place their weapons on their body. Katrina hid a small pistol in between her breasts, Rosie strapped a serrated hunting knife to her outer thigh and Skylar slipped on leather, fingerless gloves. The three girls made their way to the club, smiling falsely to allude happiness. Katrina held Rosie to slow her pace, making the two of them fall behind Skylar. 

 “You lied to her.” Katrina spoke bluntly, sparing an irritated glance at the older girl, her anger faltering slightly when she heard the older teen sigh shakily. 

 “I know. I have no idea if we are going to be okay and I'm scared shitless, but I would never tell her that.” Rosie replied, making Katrina sigh and place a comforting hand on her arm; smiling slightly when they made eye contact. 

“We’ve never let each other down before, have we?” The two girls shared a quick laugh at the repeated phrase, before they noticed Skylar being pulled into the alley by an older man. The once comforting moment turned sour, all attention once spared on each other focused towards the blonde as they hurried towards the alley to save their friend. 

 “Iris?” Rosie questioned, moving fully into the dark slip of emptiness, standing next to her blonde friend who looked almost traumatized. She drew the shorter girl close to her, offering her comfort and protection which the younger graciously accepted. 

 “You're off this mission. Permanently.” Iris spoke strongly, her words full of force and determination, making goosebumps rise on the teenage girls arms. 

 “But Iris, we haven't even properly started yet.” Skylar’s words portrayed her confusion, and Iris sighed.

 “We have a bigger case we need you to be on. This case has more precedence than a club-dwelling murderer. One of our own has been killed. I think you can stop it from continuing.” Iris made sure her words were slow and precise, allowing the girls to obtain the information clearer. 

 “One of our people died?” Katrina asked, her voice soft and quiet, hurt sinking into her words. She knew it would happen again, just like her parents. Yet, the idea of having death so close to her, closer than ever, made her panic.

 “James. James Brewer. He and his family were slaughtered. It was an attack specifically, they only drank from one person.” Their second in command, Jonah, spoke up; the calm of his voice making the young girls nauseous. 

 “You want us to go after vampire terrorists? Are you serious?” Rosie spat out her words toward the older woman, feeling betrayed and abandoned at the actions of her leader. 

 “You're the best we have. Look, I don't- I don't want to do this, but I have no other options. I love you girls like you were my siblings, you know that.” Iris sped through her words like she was panicking. She ran a hand over her face quickly, sighing loudly.

 “You're not doing it alone, I'm coming with you. And we will have help.”