#this thought occurred to me when listening to their cold voice lines so i believe it's canon that alhaitham runs warm and kaveh steals

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

Chapter One of a heated experiment is out now!

Synopsis:

“I told you. I’m not upset. There’s no need to conceal it now. The fact that our current relationship is based upon you using me for my body heat in the Winter is something I can come to terms with.” “What?” Instant incredulity. It had worked. The results would begin to manifest. Kaveh crossed his arms, perhaps as a sign of defence or just to warm his hands. “You’re not serious. How could you come to such an inane conclusion?” “You’re saying it’s unfounded? From what I can recall, you initiated a romantic relationship at the beginning of winter.” Kaveh was colouring. A promising sign of heightened blood circulation. “Not that it matters. It’s hardly even cold then. Not to such an extent, at least.” “That’s true.” He considered, and then came upon it. “But our physical relationship began a month later.” The red mottling Kaveh’s neck was expedient, mounting his face. “So?” “That month was reported to be the coldest winter in five years.” “You-!” Kaveh said nothing else. (Alhaitham hypothesises an alternative method to Kaveh's ineffectively stealing his body heat during Winter - bickering. It proves successful, before it backfires.)

[jellymellydraws]

Gortash's coat magically keeps his composure and emotions in check. So walk with me for a moment...

Grief Concealment

Rose is furious. He tells her she was his nearest and dearest. They would have been gods together. They meant to rule as the Absolute, together. But she hears how hollow those words come out. Like rehearsed lines by a poor actor. She calls him out on it.

"You're lying!" The accusation. "If this is true, you're a shitty lover. Where were you when the filthy Myrklites were carving me open? When I disappeared, did you even bother looking or was it too inconvenient?!"

The tears threaten to fall, recounting the horrible pieces of her demise that she's picked up along the way. This entire time, there was someone who could have stopped it. Someone who supposedly cared.

And he did nothing.

"Did it ever occur to you how convenient it was that my disappearance was followed by the discovery of the tadpoles' modification? The very piece needed for our plan to work. Did you ever wonder, for a second, who patient zero was?!"

She keeps the tears from spilling, but not her voice from shaking. All he did was stand there. Hands folded in front. Staring at her with dry eyes. No expression. Cold. Calm.

Uncaring.

"You're full of shit. You don't give a damn about me." A stray tear betrays her. Trails down her cheek. "Maybe you never did."

Gortash exhales a slow, controlled breath. No response. No admission. No denial. He turns to his desk and approaches it with tormentuously slow steps. The clinking of metal accompanied him as the fastenings of his coat were undone.

The heavy ornamental garb was tossed aside, unceremoniously. His hands press against the wooden surface as he hunches over. Another heavy breath.

Shaky.

A sudden pang in her chest as she watched him. Closely. The man that faces her is nothing like the one moments ago.

Grief creases his features. Despair lingers in his eyes.

Her lip quivered. This was him. This was real.

"Enver..." The words slipped as a soft cry. The urge to step forward, to reach for him-- it wanted to overcome her, but she was untrusting of it. Scared for what may come if she listened.

So he reached for her instead. Closing the distance and pulling her closer. Holding her as his lips met her's. Caressing her head as he brings her to his chest. His heart beat was frantic.

He couldn't fake that.

"I thought I'd never see you again," his shaky voice reached her ear. He breathed in her scent, trying to convince himself that she was, really, there. "When Orin returned and took your place, I didn't want to believe it. You? Undone by your impulsive and rash brat of a sister? Impossible."

She listened, doing her best to keep her breathing from getting out of hand. But she was shaking. She knew she was. He tightened his hold around her. A free hand stroked her back.

"But you never returned from Moonrise...Ketheric claimed he didn't know what happened. Orin's claims became more believable as time went. If she turned you into one of her art projects, I didn't want to see it."

She began to bury her face in his chest. With nothing to hold, her fingers curled into tight fists. His every word sounding more genuine as he went on. This was the truth. The unbearable heart wrenching truth. He pressed a kiss to her temple, burying his face into her hair.

"I couldn't let that be the last thing I'd have to remember you by."

[dcvinefcmme]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her. || SELF PARA.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth.

TRIGGER WARNING: blood, guns, murder, death, hospitals, blood, grief, graphic descriptions of violent acts.

ft. @missseraphina / @cfdante / @saccharinexvenom ( lucky ) / @xogiada / @zakariaxwolfe

TIMELINE NOTE: this takes place the same night as the gala event, and slightly onward.

just in case that was our last. i love you so much.

ludovica hadn't even had to speak the words aloud when her eyes darted to dante -- help me. help her, the woman i love. it's known that a feeling like this doesn't come easily to her, hell, she's trained herself enough to make sure that it doesn't come at all. but somehow, she had completely lost herself in seraphina montgomery -- and at this rate, there was no getting her heart back. she knew she had to finish the show. for giada, who she trusted and adored so much. any other time she would have run for her life -- but lucky and dante would have this handled. they'd keep things from breaking out too much. they'd get her out of there.

while she stands by the stage, clinging to the slowly taring edges of her composure -- the very moment she finishes her final line, hears her final cue in her earpiece, she runs from the stage, boots sounding against the floor in a series of dramatic thumps. the way she was running, those around her should be shocked that the earth didn't come with it. she needs to see her face. she needs to see her breathing.

ludovica searches the place high and low. every room receives the same treatment, every square inch examined. she could be anywhere. despite it being a hotel, this place was far too goddamn big. it's then she finally makes it outside, the december chill caressing her cheeks, as if preparing her for what she's about to find. the mother's touch she never knew.

it's then, she turns the corner, and her heart drops. she can hear it shatter in her ears. sera. with gunshot wounds even she couldn't ignore.

" no..... oh nonono... " her voice becomes far more gentle than she ever thought possible, caring little about the stains to her suit. how could she think of anything else, but how the love of her life was bleeding out in her arms? a hand comes to rest on sera's cheek, caressing it gently as the tears begin to fall. she has never cried like this. not ever since she was a child. how could she, with her experience? with her family? but, none of that matters now. the woman she loved, who left everything behind to be with her -- had been caught in the crossfire. " la mia bellissima ragazza... stay with me... "

nothing or no one has ever made ludovica this desperate. calling out to a god she had never believed in, a silent prayer whispered over her lips. please. take me instead. i'll leave everything behind as long as you don't touch her. it has been so long since she'd last known what it felt like to be human again, and she could feel that part of her soul slipping through her fingers.

and then, sera starts to speak. ludovica initially moves to hush her, mouth opening to insist that she rest. she needs to save her energy, while they get the ambulance here. but as she listens to her words, ludovica finds herself incapable of speaking. only sobbing with the fire of a thousand suns.

“ lu… baby listen. i wasn’t truly alive until i met you. my world was black and white, but you made me see colour. every moment with you… it was all I ever wanted. please don’t forget… i love you more than anything. always… ”

and then, her eyes flutter shut -- body going limp in her arms. while ludovica is wide-awake, she begins mentally searching for a way out. this has to be a nightmare, one that she has to fight to wake up from. but, in the seconds that pass by, she comes to realize that this is exactly what she feared. real life. the other half of her heart is dying.

eyes soon dart upwards -- the entire ordeal occurring within a matter of seconds, but feeling like fifteen years. a hellscape she knew she could never get out of. " HELP! " her voice calls out, her scream desperate -- but also like that of a banshee. tolling death, the curse she was bound with. she couldn't even say the words to dante and lucky before but now, it falls out of her just as easily as her tears. " somebody fucking help her! " she can't die. not when they're finally on the same side -- not when she finally has her. all she's ever needed. no money, power, glory would ever be enough.

it's then she sees a figure turning the corner, a vague silhouette nearly colliding with the nearby brick wall. dante. she soon realizes that lucky is not very far behind. all sound becomes a ringing screech -- the muffled sounds of dante's voice calling an ambulance breaking through. as it arrives, she can see dante's mouth moving, even more words that broke her open. she couldn't go with her. with the emts, and the fact that she wasn't immediate family, they weren't married -- she'd have to meet them at the hospital.

would it have changed things if she had told them she had preemptively asked for her grandmother's engagement ring? that it was waiting for her back at her penthouse apartment, hidden away in her office? that she knew, down the line, she would be?

for perhaps the first time in years, ludovica couldn't even speak. all she can feel is lucky's arms around her -- sinking into him as she watches the medical personnel wheel the love of her life away. it can't be for the last time. it just can't.

the drive feels like another ten years, when in reality -- it only takes minutes. she doesn't see anything out the window, only the fabric of lucky's suit jacket as she allows her tears to transition from desperate to numb. sera was her tether to whatever humanity she had left. if she died because of this, she didn't just want zak's head. she wanted them all. ghost riders, society, whoever she would get her hands on. simply put, she wouldn't feel a single shred of guilt doing so. if she dies, if she leaves this earth -- anyone who thought she was a monster before would think she was far more than that. a demon, walking the earth. with fire in her wake.

hours later, ludovica held her hand as the flatline rang out. and along with sera, several things in ludovica died that night too. hope. joy. faith in the universe. all she was left with was anger.

her grief initially begins with simply silence. staring at the wall -- trying to make sense of it all. while some often wondered what they had done to deserve this, ludovica was well aware that she was far from pure. a sinner since birth. and yet, after all that she had endured, she thought she had paid her dues. served her time in this earthy penitentiary for all the bodies she left in her wake.

then comes the need to do something about it. with a shaken breath, she rises from her chair before making her way down the hall to an awaiting dante -- who had left to get them both coffee from the nearby dining hall. as shitty as it was, she needed it.

" they need to pay for this. " she finally speaks for the first time in hours. the evidence is clear in her horse throat, her voice crackling with every word. the crying certainly had not helped either. " every single one of them. "

she wants zakaria wolfe to watch as his little family of mice as she had once told him, falls to the ground, dead. the ghost rider clubhouse in flames. they had known the risk of sera's deception, of course they had. but gang relations were not a factor in the emotions she was feeling. while she had once been on the side of lying in wait, looking for the perfect time to strike -- this was the anger of a broken woman.

" if you won't do it, i'll do it myself. "

[hellcab]

Movie Night - God of Teeth Prelude.

“Wendy, I’m home.”

Roth snacked on salted popcorn, while watching Jack Nicholson give his best performance. Nearby, several casualties of drained beer cans laid scattered. He was alone. The mess never bothered him. It just grew around him and he never thought about it. Just like so many things.

Grasping a handful, Roth greedily devoured the popcorn. Some spilled onto his Mammon Rock Tour shirt. It just occurred that this was his only meal today. Drinking some stale beer, Roth waited and watched for his favorite scene and line. Jack at the door with the axe. Wendy inside, having just sent Doc outside into the cold. Armed with a butcher knife, she waited for Jack.

It was Roth’s favorite scene next to the sea of blood exiting the elevator. He watched with glee while Jack taunted his family.

“Little pigs! Little pigs! Let me in!”

Roth remembered showing the film to several friends. One, being an Imp who found the film hilarious. Different cultures, Roth assumed. Besides, some down here found the concept of familicide hilarious. A staple of comedy that brought the house down. This day was spent on movies. Roth had so many, so many to choose and watch. The bounty from the store was beer, popcorn and candy bars. He remembered Lute saying his diet was worse than some teenagers’. Or was that some teenagers ate better than him? He couldn’t really remember.

All day long, Roth watched all his favorite movies. He escaped into every movie and into every shot. He wanted to escape and never go back. More importantly, he wanted to escape his memory. He was nearing the day of the ritual. The night when “Ultima Discordia” died with another chance for freedom.

He remembered the room. The voice beckoning him to enter. He entered and witnessed it. He couldn’t describe it, but he could see it. Sweat builds on his brow and cheeks. The sensation of ants crawled around inside him.  Inside him, every atom screams in rebellion. Roth’s eyes become glassy, as if becoming entranced. He stares ahead, while Jack takes the axe towards the door. Wendy screams as she holds onto the kitchen knife. More and more, Roth could hear the teeth.

The phone rang and snapped Roth out. He dropped the popcorn onto the shag carpet. Cursing his luck, Roth looked at the phone, then at the mess. Back to the phone then the mess. Back and forth and back. Roth chooses the phone first. Picking up the receiver, Roth continued watching the film play out.

"Yeah, yeah who's this?"

“Heeeeeere’s Johnny!”

“Roth, it’s me Vincent. Vincent Andras.”

Frozen, Roth sat there, not believing the voice he had just heard. He wanted to escape that voice. To escape that man. He waited, just listening to the travelling static on the landline.  He mustered enough courage. Enough politeness, to answer. Though, warmth was missing. The cold of Roth’s voice shared his opinion. He wanted Vince to know how he feels. After so many years of silence.

“Hi, Vince. It’s been some time . . .”

“Yes, yes it has. I . . . I’m calling for something important. Necessary, even.”

Roth gripped the receiver. He clenched his mouth, while he sat on that couch. He stared ahead, watching the film. Yet, his mind remained curious on Vincent. Why was he calling? Why after so many years since the ritual.

“Roth . . . I know we have differences. Differences that-”

“Fuck. You.”

Roth interrupted, while he gripped the receiver even more. His blood was rushing and burning hot. He delved into his venom and wanted to drown Vincent there. Vince coughed on the other end and remained silent. He speaks again, trying his best.

“I wanted to call you . . . to hear you again. I needed to hear your voice. Roth . . . It’s about the ritual.”

Now, Roth flew up from his seat. He screamed into that phone and wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The night of the ritual, in 1998. The manor house and the dark room. The fear was behind Roth’s every agonizing word. Words of anger and pure fear.

“TALK! TALK about fucking what? We got out by the skin of our fucking teeth! What about Lazlo! Cyntha? Magret and Josh? What about them? THEY’RE FUCKING DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! You killed them with a false promise!”

In many ways, Roth was speaking about himself and Vincent. He blamed himself for what happened on that night. At least, he could blame himself. Vincent always downplayed his part regarding the tragedy. He coped through shrugging the pain off. Then again, that’s all that Roth could see with him. That his old friend couldn’t care anymore than he could afford. The pain was buried inside him as with Roth.

Vincent’s anger was now speaking through the phone. Pain carried over the phone line.

“We were close, Roth! Closer than anyone before us. The door was open, and we could’ve made it! But . . . you choked. You were always a coward running from yourself. You blinked and everyone failed. You. Failed everyone.”

That hurt him more than anything. Roth felt it was true but . . . Vincent always played these games. It was how he controlled people, how he controlled Roth once. He still could even after all these years. Roth just had the benefit of being out of range. Calming his voice, Roth growled and gritted his teeth. Trauma was more present than anger.

“You expected too much. You . . . you demanded too much. You and I . . . . we shouldn’t have survived. Hell . . . the price was too much. What more is there than that . . .”

Vincent sighed on the phone and relented. He speaks again, trying to sound mighty and noble. But his tone betrays his every word. The divide between him and Roth . . . was too much.

“Fine. Stay in Hell, you bastard.”

Before Roth could get his own insult in, Vincent hung up. Roth seemed shocked and insulted and slammed the phone down. The anger remained and burned into his every waking moment. He sat there, breathing and searching for peace. But he found nothing. He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget Vincent and the ritual. The doors and the darkness beyond his own understanding. The thousands and thousands of teeth.

He starts to cry.